#hasn’t felt like the Din Djarin I’ve known and loved

[flaccid-rats]

I. Ugh. Okay. I need to get some thoughts out about the new episode.

I get that Din didn’t want the Darksaber. I understand that it was the last thing he wanted, and honestly? Yeah, I would absolutely expect him to give it away in the long run because while Din Djarin might be an excellent leader and he’s absolutely someone who inspires loyalty, it’s not a position he wants to be in. And I love Mand’alor Din with all my heart but in canon? It probably wouldn’t have happened. Yes, I love him as this tragic figure of someone who’s destined to be a great king even thought they don’t want to be king, but that’s not what the show is about and that’s what fanfic is for.

What I’m mad about, is that at the end of season two they set up this wonderful storyline about a simple man just trying to make his way though the galaxy who has just been given an entire world, who’s been given this legacy, this ancient and noble title that people had killed and died for, whose been given everything that his people have fought years for, have fought for generations to get back after it was stolen from them, and yet he’s lost everything.

He’s been given everything and now he has nothing.

This season should have been about that. It should have been about Din Djarin coping with the loss of his son, it should have been about it taking more than an episode and a half for him to redeem himself, it should have been about Din Djarin learning the history of this relic he now has and the history of his people that he was never taught. It should have been about him learning the complicated history between his people and the Jedi, between his people and his son.

I don’t, and I cannot stress this enough, care that Bo-Katan has the Darksaber.

What I care about is that they fucked with Boba Fett’s show and story and plot to continue that storyline they set up at the end of season two, to have Din Djarin hurt and lost and say that the Darksaber was his because it’s all he has left, to have him fight Paz for the Darksaber even though he did not want it, to have Din fight to get it back because he was not willing to give it up, because he lost his son and the Darksaber is he all he has now, and then they just. Gave him Grogu back with zero repercussions and threw ALL THAT away for season three so they can make Bo-Katan the main character and start a fuck ton of side plots about the New Order so they can make the sequels make sense.

That’s what I’m mad about.

Having said that.

I loved Lizzo and Jack Black this episode they were great.

[chaotic-iguana]

hello, friend <3 I’m sorry if this is weird but recently I’ve been feeling like there is not a lot of gender neutral readers out there. I was wondering if you could write something where Din is trying to see why the reader is feeling down one day and they have this little heart to heart between them. I don’t like telling people what to do but I love reading your work! Thank youuuu <3

Bodyguard

Summary: Reader hasn’t been feeling too great lately, and they’re surprised when Mando asks about it.

Wordcount: 1.6k

Pairing: Din Djarin x gn! reader

Warnings: just a lot of fluff

hello! not weird at all; im non binary myself and go by she/they and i feel the same!! this is such a cute prompt i love it hehe (and don’t worry, im a sucker for requests pls keep sending). thank you anon , i hope you like it

masterlist.

Today just wasn’t going well. The baby seemed to be in a particularly devious mood, pushing things off shelves and flinging his toys all over the ship. You had scrambled to fix things; put others back in their places, but he’d just do it again. 

You loved him; he’d burrowed into your heart in the past six months you’d gained employment on the Crest with its peculiar passengers. A Mandalorian and a green ‘baby’ who was somehow thirty years older than you. You liked both of them, assuming a pseudo-maternal role with the child as its sitter, while you had a fairly amicable relationship with his dad. A little standoffish and took some getting used to, but overall he hadn’t been hostile or aggressive towards you so far, no matter how rough he was with his bounties. In fact, you had almost taken a liking to your quiet, straight-forward companion. He paid you generously, and even if he wasn’t the most friendly employer you’d had, he tried his best to go above and beyond to ensure you were comfortable on his ship. He’d seen you shivering in your cot one night on his way to the fresher, and at the next stop a pile of plush, fluffy blankets rested on your bed. When you tried to pay him back, he just feigned innocence. 

Biting back a curse and jumping back, you groaned as the bowl of broth in your hand slipped and got everywhere, from your clothes and hair to the floor all over the cockpit. Muttering, you’d taken a quick shower and changed your clothes - but when you checked the pantry it turned out that the broth was the last ration you had. 

Mando had been on his bounty hunt for over three weeks now, and while you were used to him being gone for long, you weren’t particularly inclined towards going on a supply run alone on a planet he’d warned you of saying it wasn’t known for its safety. And while you were more than capable of taking care of yourself, you just couldn’t put the child in that kind of danger. Reaching into your bag, you pulled out a fistful of dried berries you’d picked up at the last stop. Atleast the child was fed. 

But it seemed that he was missing his father, because midway through flipping a chair like a rag doll, he burst into blubbering, inconsolable tears. Even after cradling him for three hours, shushing and cooing to him softly, his sobs weren’t dying down; just getting worse. You had bought him a toy a while back, but it was forgotten underneath your cot, so you bought it out as a last hope to calm him - and thankfully he was so enamored by the mirrors stitched into the side that he forgot his desperation for Mando for a while - before the crying started again. 

You rocked him until he cried himself to sleep, tears of your own building in your eyes at the helplessness you felt. Just before you were about to curl up in your cot, you heard the ramp being lowered and the pleads of a bounty cut short by the hissing of the Crest’s carbonite chamber. A feeling of warmth passed through you at the fact that he was finally back before sleep took you. 

Hours later, you woke in a cold sweat, panting. Your palms were clammy, your tunic clung to your skin, and your cot felt too stuffy to lie back in. Running a hand through your hair in frustration, you stepped out and began fumbling in the dark to climb your way up to the cockpit, nearly tripping over a toy on your way to the pilot’s chair. 

“What are you doing?” A modulated voice gruffly interrupts your thoughts, making you gasp and turn in your seat. Pressing a hand to your chest and willing your heartbeat to just calm down you’re safe it’s just Mando, you squint your eyes against the shadows of the room to spot a single familiarly glinting flash of beskar. 

“Nothing, just couldn’t sleep very well. How was the hunt?” You speak softly, mindful of the baby who tended to be an extremely light sleeper. The thumping of footsteps sounded from in front of you, getting closer. 

“What’s wrong?” He’s close enough for you to be able to make out the ‘T’ of his visor now, and you look at it as you shook your head, mumbling a soft ‘nothing’ followed by an excuse that sounded hollow even to you. “Are you not happy here?” His tone seemed softer, more hesitant somehow, even despite the helmet he wore. 

You shook your head again, more vigorously this time. “I don’t actually know what’s wrong. Yesterday was…” you trailed off, sighing softly before continuing. “ I just keep thinking that the Guild is going to catch up with me - even though I know you helped clear my bounty. It feels like the weight on my chest is still there, like I’m living on borrowed time and any minute now, someone’s going to take their favor back and just end it. End me. And it keeps me awake on the worse days, even though I know how stupid it is. It’s not about being here. I love the child, and the Crest - it’s the first home I’ve had since that fucker put a bounty on my head - and I’m happy here, I am. I just-I don’t know. Sorry. This probably isn’t what you wanted to-“

“I asked. I wanted the truth. You were on the run for a very long time when I found you. Don’t be hard on yourself for struggling to settle in.” He came even closer, his right hand twitching as if he was fighting the itch to move it. After a beat of silence, he brought it up to your shoulder awkwardly with the stiffness of a man who clearly hasn’t done this before. You gaped at him, puzzled. Never before had this many words come out of his mouth in one go. A deep inhale crackles through the helmet, before he starts again, impossibly gentler this time. His words come out in a rush at first, as if he were having trouble with maintaining speech for this long. 

“You know I’d never let anything happen to you, right? You pulled a blaster on a guy in the middle of a market when I couldn’t see the knife in his hand as he charged at me from behind. The protection goes both ways. We’re a crew now, we take care of each other. No one’s taking you out without having to get through me first, okay?” Your eyes widened as they searched his helmet as if one would a face, waiting for any movement at all. Did he mean it? But the helmet remained impassive, as helmets generally do, staring back at you unmovingly. 

You gulped, dipping your chin while maintaining eye contact with the visor. “Thanks, Mando.” Another beat of silence, and then a grin made its way onto your face. “So you’re saying I have a big, scary Mandalorian bodyguard now?” You want to wince, crawl away from the words that just slipped out of your mouth. You just teased a Mando- one who also doubled up as one of the best hunters in the Guild. The Guild which tried to kill you countless times in six years. He was also double your size and could likely snap you in half if he tried. And you just… made fun of him after he was nice to you. Either I’m going to die in the next few minutes or he’s gonna throw me out in space or something. He’s been nice so far, but I’ve also been super professional. Fucking bodyguard? Really? He was trying to help you, idiot. 

To your neverending surprise, neither of those scenarios played out. He just went silent for a second before a laugh choked out from the modulator, shocking you with how warm it sounded. And the butterflies that fluttered low in your stomach at the sound of his amusement. Shaking his helmet, he lifted his hand off your shoulder - making you instantly miss its warmth, even with the glove - and chuckled again. 

“A big, scary Mandalorian?” He tuts, cocking his helmet. “Didn’t seem too scared of me last month when you told me to shower before holding the kid.” Laughter echoing in his voice, he watched you scoff in mock offense. 

“You were filthy, Mando. He could have gotten sick!” Okay, even I can hear the chiding in my tone now.“Sorry. For being bossy. ‘Course I can’t be, cause technically you’re my boss but-“ 

“You were right though. It’s good that you aren’t scared of me. Makes you better company.” You raised a brow at that, smirking even as your stomach began doing somersaults. 

“Y’ think I’m good company, Mandalorian?” Your eyes started drooping as you spoke, the last word coming out slightly slurred. He heard the sheer glee dripping from your tone, tired as you sounded, making him huff and walk back towards the hatch.

“Maybe. Go to sleep. I’ll get your blankets.” 

hello loves, as always - thank you for reading. comment your thoughts or find me on ao3. stay hydrated and have a great day! taglist: @imherefordeanandbones @theywhowriteandknowthings

[yoditorian]

reverb - vs the heat death of the universe

din djarin/gn, afab!reader

i’ve been listening to this song on repeat since it came out and this idea came to me and i had to get it out, so if you see lines i’ve shamelessly stolen i’m sorry but also no i’m not - though tbh it’s not exactly linear so you cOULD read this just as it is without context - i hope u like it 💛

series masterlist // main masterlist

word count: 2k // warnings: a n g s t, sex mentions, oral mentions, everything could be solved with literally one conversation, religious guilt, 18+ pls no babies

You’ll never see his face.

You know that. You’ve made peace with it. You’ve invited it to dinner and introduced it to your friends and family, it’s not like it’s new information.

But it’s been playing on your mind since you last crossed paths. Among other things.

Dirty hookups in his ship, or your ship, or darkened landing bays after hunts. Oh, and there was that time you’d desecrated that poor farmer’s spare room. A picture frame had more or less launched itself from its hook above the bed to escape the frantic pounding of the headboard against the wall below.

It hasn’t stopped your mind from wandering, the knowledge that seeing his face or knowing his name will never be a privilege you’re going to get. It’s safe, that much you can be sure of, because wondering what he looks like keeps you from wondering about far more dangerous things like futures and four letter words. 

It’s safe because it’s just for you. 

You don’t have to tell anyone how you’re so sure he’s got dark eyes, you don’t have to explain that you have no basis for your logic besides perhaps the strongest gut instinct you’ve ever felt. He does, you just know it. Maybe it’s the warmth he so unwittingly exudes any time you catch him off guard. A sarcastic comment, a lame one-liner joke, a split second shootout strategy, whatever it is. He’ll turn his head to you, face you with that blank visor that haunts your favourite dreams and worst nightmares, and you get the feeling he’s just looking at you. Maybe he’s smiling, maybe he’s raising an eyebrow, but whatever his face is doing under that helmet turns your blood to lava. It swirls in your stomach and everything slows, just for a moment. That’s how you know. And it’s how you know you never want to have to explain it out loud to someone else.

The hair is easier, you’ve caught a glimpse of the scruffy dark mop he hides underneath his bucket by accident on multiple occasions. And you weren’t surprised to find it so. The depth of it matches the way his voice rumbles through his chest when you rest your cheek on it in the moments after, when you’re both still coming down and he’s yet to move away. Though, he’s been doing that less and less the more time you spend locked in his arms. 

He’s just a man, if you take away all the armour, and that’s what makes it all so fucking heartbreaking.

Because you know him on a level you shouldn’t, he affects you on a level he shouldn’t, and now you’re in so deep you’re not sure how much longer you can keep swimming before your arms give out. 

You’ve not known much love in your life, never had much time for it while you were scraping by to make a living and now? Now, you’re not sure it’s such a good idea. Why would you want to even consider loving anything if the very notion of it squeezes your ribs so painfully, turns your stomach so violently. You know how love ends in this galaxy. Messy, suddenly, bloody. 

A selfish part of you wonders if that breath that catches in your throat any time you see him really is love, or if it’s a combination of sleep deprivation and loneliness and the first real connection you’ve had with another person in your life. Is it even a connection? Can you even call it that? But it has to be, he’s on your mind all the time. You look for him everywhere. And that’s what’s dangerous.

If you admit to yourself that you want him, that some part of your gnarled heart belongs to him now, you have to face the very real possibility that you’ll lose him. He’ll move on from Nevarro, or leave the Guild, or just never come back to you. He could get hurt, he could die, he could simply decide he didn’t want to play this game of cat and mouse with you anymore. 

That’d be the worst, you’re sure. If he decided to leave you.

Except there’s nothing to leave, is there?

Because while you may be starting to wonder if you’re his, even only in secret, you know he’ll never see you that way. He’ll certainly never claim to be the same of you, why would he? You know as well as he does that he belongs to the creed, to the vows he swore, and you’ll be the last person in the galaxy to take that from him. 

You resolve to love him quietly, silently, in the dark and pray it’s enough to keep him by your side for just a little longer. 

It’s worth it to hurt, though you never imagined you’d say that of anything. Coming up, you’d let nothing and no one get in the way of your self preservation - emotional or otherwise. But here you are, lying in the bunk of your ship and wondering if finally admitting the truth to yourself is worth the ache you know will settle in your chest. Ultimately, whether it is or it isn’t, it doesn’t matter. You’ll do it anyway. There’s nowhere to hide from it anymore, big and bright and blooming from the pit of your stomach to the back of your throat. You’ve no hope of ignoring it. 

You love him. Whether you like it or not. 

Din can’t sleep. 

It’s not that something’s wrong, per say, not really. But whatever it is, it’s off just enough to completely disintegrate his ability to fall asleep at the drop of a hat. A habit formed by years of training, running, fighting for his life and his next meal. But it feels like something’s tugging at his very nerves, pulling him apart at the seams. 

He knows what it is, he just doesn’t want to admit it. 

A heavy sigh forces its way out of his lungs and he slumps back in the pilot’s chair. There’s no escaping it, he might as well let his mind take him where it wants to go, he’s got hours to kill until he drops out of lightspeed anyway. So, Din slips the helmet from his head and places it carefully on the ground beside him, he leans back to let the light of hyperspace wash over his face as he closes his eyes. And he sees you, it’s always you.

You’re on his mind more often than not, these days. 

He’s used to thinking of you in the dark, late at night under the blankets, where the vows he swore can’t see. He’s used to remembering the feel of you when there aren’t any witnesses, when he can wallow in the memories.The feel of the marks on your skin as he traces them with his fingertips, the gentle give of the muscle underneath. Relaxed and pliant in the come down. Tailored to every inch of each other. Not that he ever lets himself enjoy it for very long. It strays too close to something he knows he can’t have.

The transition from memory to fantasy is fuzzy, faded from the number of times he’s replayed it late into the night. It happens somewhere around the end, when he pulls you closer into him instead of pulling away. When he lays you back and pulls the helmet off of his head to taste you, the spit on your tongue and the sweat on your skin and the mess of the both of you between your thighs. He imagines the sounds you’d make, choked off gasps and whines of his name, as he brings you so gently to the edge and back again until he decides to let you have it. You’d tug him up by his shoulders to rest his weight on you, and you wouldn’t mind. He knows you wouldn’t.

Din shifts in his seat to relieve the ache at the bottom of his spine and he’s flung back into reality. Dark eyes snap open to find the blue swirls of lightspeed and he wipes a hand up his face, fingers finding a home in his hair and tugging in frustration. They don’t feel like he’s sure yours would. 

Fantasy is all it is, all it’ll ever be. He knows that better than he knows all the ways to pull his favourite noises from you. Because it’s sex, that’s all. His knee-jerk reaction is to say it’s the way you seem to just fit together so seamlessly. And all of his experiences before you had been so impersonal, a practical need he used to think of as a chore, something he has to take care of in order to focus on more important matters. You’ve never been that. It’s not just the fact he’s slept with you, but the fact he’s slept beside you. A mutual trust developed so suddenly that he could curl around you as you drifted off and find his own peace, to wake from dreams of your face and reach out to trace the shape of your nose in the dark. It’s a privilege he never thought he’d have with anyone. But it can’t be. Neither of you have the luxury to pretend it’ll ever be anything more than what it is now. He fucks you because he can trust you and you fuck him because - well, he’d like to think the same of you. And because he lets himself enjoy the fantasy, he can imagine anything he wants. Even the things he shouldn’t.

Like taking the helmet off.

He’d never tell you out loud just how much he wants to, he’d never even admit it to an empty room. Shame blooms in his chest, fills his lungs, threatens to crawl up his throat and silence him forever for just thinking about it. He is the creed, the creed is him. There isn’t another path for him, there never has been. And he’d never ask that of you. He’s not sure he’d even know where to start. 

You’re so free, it’s the thing he likes most about you. It’s as though there’s something restless, yearning for the sky, that ticks inside of you every second your feet are on solid ground. You flit from planet to planet, whirling through towns and cities like a storm as you collect bounties, and he wouldn’t be surprised if you kept a lover waiting in each one of them. He wouldn’t think less of you for it either, it’s not as if he’s ever offered you more than a swift fuck and a set of eyes to watch your back when you need it. It’s not enough. It shouldn’t be, no matter how much he wishes it was. He can’t take your freedom from you like that.

But he can’t offer you any more. He can’t give you his name and hear it drip off your tongue in the early hours. He can’t show you his face and have you trace the edge of his brow bone the way he knows would leech the tension from his muscles. 

You’ll never know him the way he wants you to, because he’ll never ask. It’d be a far greater cruelty to the both of you to ask you to stay with him. And he’s selfish, ultimately. Maybe it’s contradictory to let you come and go the way you do, to deny you all your freedom by withholding the choice, but Din’s not sure he has the strength to face the universe without you. Even the little parts that you willingly give. 

So he won’t, he doesn’t. He’ll let you sweep through his life every now and again, he won’t tell you the destruction you leave in your wake. He needs it to know you were there, to remember, to wrap himself up in the dead of night until next time. 

But it’s not love. Love is dangerous, love in this galaxy is a death sentence to anyone less than royalty. It’s just another thing for someone to take, to end, to die. So, it’s not. It can’t be.

Din won’t let it.

TAGLIST (add yourself here):

@elderho-tan @keeper0fthestars @thevoiceinyourheadx @firstofficerwiggles @1800-fight-me @ew-erin @chatterbean @darnitdraco @greeneyedblondie44 @captain-jebi @sarahjkl82-blog @thatonedindjarinfan @thisshipwillsail316 @amneris21​

[morganas-pendragons]

Long Story Short (I Survived) | Din Djarin

Okay, I apparently write for Din now. This is set after It’s A Long Way Down and will feature the same Grey!Jedi reader, I am done with finals and am intending to write a fic between this one and the first one for Chapter 13! 

i forgot that din took his helmet off in the first fic i wrote for him, so we’re going to call this - another separate instance in which reader could have seen helmet less din  - and change one saber to two 

if you’d like to be added to tags for when I write for din, please let me know! until then... 

@earthtokace / @demigod-dragonrider-schoolidol​ / @kyber-queen / @kaikai1324 / @snippy-tano / @fractiouskat​ / @doctorsteeb​

SPOILERS FOR THE BELIEVER 

Din is staring down at the Imperial console when he feels it creep up upon him. It’s a niggling fear, one that sinks deep down into the pit of his stomach and very nearly disappears - which gives him hope that it’ll just dissipate and die - until realization smacks him right back into reality. 

  “You’ll have to take your helmet off.” 

He’d felt this same emotion when IG-11 had coerced him into taking his helmet off when he’d been injured. It had felt the same, affected him the same, paralyzed him the same. 

Panic. It’s panic. 

The last time he’d done this had been out of necessity, out of fear, and that had been the only reason he’d survived. He’d broken The Creed to save his own life and of those who had been with him when the Moff attacked. Now, staring at this console, the life of his son is at stake if he doesn’t take this helmet off. 

Din whispers into the corners of his frightened mind. I’m scared. 

You had accompanied Mayfeld and Din as the third party (since Boba and Fennec had Cara) and had displayed skill in aiding him with the bands of pirates who had attacked their transport of Rhydonium. His mind was still spinning with the sheer speed in which you had spun those lightsabers. He didn’t think a person could move that fast. 

Around the corner and turned away from Din, you allow yourself to feel the whispers of The Force encircling your mind - the newly acquired bond you’d somehow formed with Din since having seen Ahsoka - and whispered in reply I know. A beat of silence passes before you continue. Remember who you’re doing this for. 

In the moment that Din’s fear threatens to overtake him, you send waves of comfort and assurance through your Bond in the Force - which shouldn’t exist to begin with, it’s not that easy to create bonds with a non-force sensitive -�� to coax him into doing what needs to be done. Your eyes are turned. Your focus is on Mayfeld and the dozens of Imperial Officers who surround you. 

As he removes his helmet, Din remembers. He remembers your boundless laughter playing with The Child. He remembers the way his son beams at you, the way he falls asleep on specific words of lullabies because that’s always the precise moment your voice goes just soft enough that he feels as if he needs no more comfort. Din remembers the way you’d watched on in silence, quietly mourning a relationship that had yet to reach its peak, and how breathless you’d appeared - and overjoyed, he still hasn’t recovered from the sudden hug you gave him upon return to the Razor Crest - when he’d brought Grogu back inside after Ahsoka claimed he could not be trained. 

Remember who you’re doing this for.

Maker help anyone who dared to cross him when his child, his son - the one attachment he has not verbally acknowledged yet, but everyone else has, including you - is the one in danger. When you are the one in danger.

Maker help them.

You are not anticipating what comes next. 

This was supposed to be easy. Get in, get the coordinates for the cruiser, and get out. Mayfeld had mentioned to you after Din had entered the mess hall that he’d need to take his helmet off in order to access the terminal, and on instinct you had turned away from the mess to survey the crowd around you. 

Your lightsabers - now meshed together into the staff slung across your back - lay comfortably and within reach as dozens of Imperial troops brush past you and congratulate both you and Mayfeld on being the only transport to bring back the Rhydonium. 

  “Trooper? Hey, trooper!” 

Mayfeld’s hand shoots out before you can protest, and your head is whipping back just enough to ensure that Din hasn’t been found out. “No.” Mayfeld murmurs, shaking his head. “Not yet.” 

You’re not focused on him. You’re focused on the dark hair that frames the very visible head of the same man you’d resigned yourself to falling in love with. 

His helmet is off. 

Dread curls itself in your veins as you and the former Imperial turn to the mess hall. You’ve managed to respect Din’s wishes in refraining from both seeing his face - and using his name, you’re only allowed to do that in private - since you met, but circumstances have ruined the reverential act he would’ve saved for marriage. That was when he’d had removed his helmet to allow you to see him. 

The thing is though.. You’ve always seen him. You don’t need to see his face to know Din Djarin’s heart, and his heart lays with you and that baby. The one he’s fighting to get back. 

  “No, son. What’s your TK number?” 

Lucky for you, you’d been alive during The Clone Wars. You can worm yourself and him out of this situation fairly easily. 

  “This is our Commanding Officer TK-593, and First Officer TK-616, sir.” Mayfeld slaps your back as the two of you enter the mess hall and flank either side of Din. You cannot bring yourself to look at him head on. It would not be fair, not in the midst of the pure fear that’s coursing through his mind. 

I’m right here. You whisper into the heart of the fear that plagues him, fingers idly tracing the inside of his hand as you stare the Imperial Officer down. As expected, Din visibly relaxes at the gentle trace of your fingertips against his palm. We’re surviving. 

  “I am Imperial Combat Assault Transport TK-111, sir.” Mayfeld continues, folding his hands over each other as he stands at relaxed parade rest at Din’s side. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to speak up to him a little bit since his vessel lost pressure in Taanab.” 

This gives you the brilliant idea of conversing with Din in Tusken sign, something he’d been adamant to teach you after your excursion on Tatooine. 

  “She’s our interpreter. We call her Whip.’’

While Mayfeld guides the conversation with the officer, you and Din are easing into talking in Tusken about however many ways this can go wrong, but then he changes the topic to something you’re not quite ready to acknowledge. 

You can look at me, you know. He signs, hands frantic as he tries and fails to find your eyes. You value him - and his heart - far too much to be the first person he knows to have seen his face.

No. You shake your head. I can’t. 

And you don’t. You only look at his side profile for the remainder of that trip, refusing to allow yourself the satisfaction of being the one person he cared about that has seen his face. Seen him. 

Like I said. You don’t need to see Din Djarin’s face to see him. 

*** 

Din is almost positive he’s ready to accept how he feels about you. 

The minute Mayfeld shoots that officer in the chest, you spring into action and whip that staff off your back - disengaging the lock that holds the two lightsabers together - and the world explodes in a flurry of blue as you perform the sword and shield method he’s seen you do flawlessly at least five times now. 

You don’t look at him even after you’re back in Slave One. He and Cara have escorted Mayfeld back to the surface of the planet, and it’s just you and Fett in the cockpit. Despite the clone and bounty hunter being so much older then you, there’s something oddly comforting knowing you’re sitting next to has suffered as much as you have. If not more. 

Long story short, we both survived. 

  “You know, I’ve been with you a grand total of a day and I can already see it in your eyes, Whip.” The nickname Mayfeld had come up with in the facility has already made its rounds on the ship, and Boba feels it’s more then appropriate for the first Jedi he’s met since the kids who put him in the Sarlacc to begin with. Being inside of that thing had mellowed him out. He had accepted his life for what it was now. Oddly enough.. Boba Fett is at peace. “You’re lovesick for the Mandalorian.” 

  “Boba-” 

The older man, one who mirrored what you’d always envisioned the clones - may Maker rest their souls - to look like as they aged, removed his helmet to look at you. “Take it from someone who knows. He gets you. You get him.” Boba turned his gaze back towards the ramp of Slave One where Din was talking in low voices with Cara. “Wish I’d had a jeti like you who saw me despite the armor.” 

He stopped speaking after that.  

Taking a deep breath, you descend from the cockpit just as Slave One takes off again, the coordinates for Moff Gideon’s cruiser inputted into the navi-computer. Fennec and Cara move by you to join Boba in the cockpit which leaves you and Din alone in the cargo bay. 

It’s deadly silent. 

Ner jeti. He whispers. You can hear his thoughts as clear as you hear your own. Why will you not look at me? 

Your eyes slam shut as his fingers curl around your hips. You cannot do this to him, no matter how much you want to - no matter how much you desire to finally kiss those lips you’ve dreamt idly about so many times - because here’s the truth of it: You have suffered, parts of you have died, everything you have ever known has died, you have lost everything and didn’t even try to save those on the other end of those attachments you’d formed... but something, something good, put you right here. Right here in this moment with Din Djarin mere moments before plunging into the subject of your night terrors after months of being tormented by nightmares of your fellow Jedi being tortured by the Empire for simply existing. 

And quite frankly, there’s no one else you’d rather take that plunge with. 

That fact terrifies you. 

  “I can’t look at you, Din.” You whisper. “I can’t look at you because then that would be breaking your Creed for me... and I can’t let you do that when the baby hasn’t even seen your face yet-” 

  “Oh, believe me.” A clunk echoes in the cargo-bay as the beskar falls from his hands. Your heart stops and your breath catches in your throat as you tremble beneath his grasps, eyes still closed as he steps into the curve of your body - chest to your back - and lowers his entire head to your shoulder. “I intend for him to.” 

Din lays a kiss at the nape of your neck. Maker... he’s real. Your head starts spinning as his kiss ascends right to the shell of your ear, in which he then whispers, “Open your eyes, Sarad.” and it’s such an intimate act on the behalf of someone who has not known love until you and the baby showed up that you can’t not open your eyes. 

When you turn around, your world is enveloped in a mirage of onyx. Brown eyes. 

  “Din-” Din chuckles at your obvious reluctance because he is absolutely terrified to let you see him, the real him, vulnerable and waiting and desperate for the same acceptance. 

  “I told you my name way earlier then I ever anticipated I would.” He begins, taking your hands in his own to lay them against his cheeks. It has been so long since he allowed himself to accept touch, to accept that people in the galaxy were still gentle, that he trembles when your warmth seeps into his skin. “After what Bo-Katan told me and what Mayfeld kept saying in the transport... I’ve done alot of thinking recently, and I’m coming to the conclusion that maybe the way I was raised was wrong. There’s nothing wrong with taking the helmet off.” He exhales on a shaky breath and turns his face to kiss the inside of your hand. “But then again.. I’ve always wanted to around you.” 

Your voice is small as you ask, “Why?” 

  “Because you’ve always seen me.” Din replies. “Despite the armor and the helmet, you’ve always seen me for who I was. You saw me as a father for the-” He swallows the knot in his throat and leans inward until you are a hairs breath apart, forehead resting against yours as he pulls your body into his own. “As a father for our child. Not just as a bounty hunter, but as a man. A man I could never see myself as. When you came around, I stopped surviving. I started living.” He snorted sharply through his nose. “I almost forgot what that felt like.. I think you pulled me back right before I forgot entirely.” 

He’s so grateful. It’s hard to live feeling like you’re a ghost. 

Din tests the waters of this desire radiating from you both by applying just the barest amount of pressure of his mouth on yours. As to be expected, your entire body quakes at the contact and it takes all his physical control to not allow his spinning head to make his knees give out and send him falling on the floor. 

Oh.. he could get used to this. Used to this feeling.

He’s felt this before.

Joy. 

  “That’s the thing.” Inward, outward, forward and back again, you slowly allow yourself to succumb to Din’s kiss and grip his face in your hands just a little bit tighter. “I’ve always seen you.” You pull away just enough to force your eyes open, and then you are graced with the face of the man you love. You do. You love him, and you’ve accepted it. Kriffing Boba Fett. “And you know what? I thought I’d died before I met you. I never thought I’d make it here, much less be with you.. and I am so lucky.” There it is then, that breathless smile Din has pressed the sight of twice now into his memories, that presses itself into your aspect as the two of you look at each other. 

  “Why are you lucky?” 

You wink and shrug. ‘’Long story short?” You muse. “It’s a good thing I survived.”

Little to Din’s knowledge as he plunges into the mystery of his growing love for you - his flower, the one who made him bloom - that when he kisses you again, your eyes are wide open the entire time. 

There’s never been quite so beautiful a sight as somebody who’s survived. 

bonus: i am thinking about how beautiful pedro pascal was in this episode 

[manndo]

i see you [din djarin x reader]

gif credit

pairing[s]: din djarin (the mandalorian) x gn!reader (no descriptors, no y/n)

warning[s]: slight angst, fluff, kissing, mentions of arousal (barley there & nothing really descriptive) and ridiculously canon divergent (see notes).

word count: 4.0k

prompt[s]: from this list, based off the prompt ‘overhearing they have feelings for you’

summary: you just wanted to tell the child a bedtime story, and apparently, you had something you needed to get off your chest. but you weren’t aware you had an audience besides the child.

author’s notes: alright, for the last day of 2020 (i’m still in 2020 over here, unfortunately), i’ve decided to take a leap of faith and post my first mandalorian fic! i started writing this before episode 13 of season 2, before we learned the child’s name and way before the separation (i am still recovering from the emotional strain of this ending). and obviously, i didn’t finish it until now -- almost two weeks after the last episode. so, as i mentioned in my warnings, this is canon divergent -- basically anything from episode 13 to 16 did not happen in this fic. so, this means that grogu is referred to as the child/the little one/the kid in this fic. in the future, i am hoping to write more canon friendly fics, but who knows?? the season finale was bittersweet and honestly?? i just want my dad/son duo back together. 😢but anyway! any and all mistakes are my own. please feel free to comment/like/reblog, whatever you see fit. enjoy! ❤️and goodbye 2020, hello 2021! 🍻

You were tinkering with a malfunctioning blaster down in the hull when you heard him. At first, the cry was soft, barely there — perhaps Mando had said or done something to irritated him while they sat in the cockpit together. However, after another few moments, the cries grew louder and longer. Carefully, you set the blaster aside, and wiped your hands on the cloth next to you before pushing yourself off from your seated position on Mando’s bunk. Within seconds, you were climbing the ladder and entering the cockpit to find Mando standing from his seat, holding the child away from him as the child wailed. Immediately, Mando lifted his head toward you.

“Aren’t you supposed to be watching him?” he asked, a hint of irritation in his modulated voice. You couldn’t see his eyes, but you could imagine the glare he was giving you.

You sighed heavily, shaking your head, and took two steps forward to grab the child from Mando’s outstretched arms. Unfortunately, the child did not stop his crying. You tucked him against you. “Technically, yes. That’s what you hired me for, but you know this little one has his ways of sneaking around,” you muttered, reaching out to grab the little one’s tiny hand. Even through his wailing, the little one’s finger immediately wrapped around your thumb. You hummed soothingly and began to gently bounce him, keeping your eyes trained on him. “And, it wasn’t like you were complaining ten minutes ago when he was being a perfect little angel,” you mumbled, rubbing your thumb gently over the little one’s finger and looked up to Mando. Mando snorted, but said nothing as he sat himself back down in the pilot’s chair, and turned himself away from you. You knew he didn’t need to be there — the Crest was in hyperdrive and most likely on autopilot — but, you found he preferred it to other parts of the ship. Then again, when you’re always on guard like him, well, it made sense to be in the cockpit.

“He’s probably just tired, Mando,” you said, glancing away from him and back to the child, who was, thank the Maker, not wailing anymore. However, he was still crying, still taking in big breaths and looking at you with wide, glassy eyes. “Just needs a little nap. Ain’t that right, little one?” The child gave you a sniffle, and hung his head. “Come on,” you said quietly, giving the child’s finger a little squeeze, “let’s get you tucked in.”

You turned on your heel, and carefully made your way down to the hull once more, all the while whispering comforting words to the child in hopes to quell his cries. It seemed to work — for the most part. He still seemed upset, even if he wasn’t really crying anymore. More like, sniffles and whines. But, he was still restless against you. Even if he was overtired, it was clear he wasn’t too keen on actually being put down because the moment you had set him into the makeshift, hanging bed that Mando had crafted for him, he tried to pull himself out. “Ah, ah, little one, don’t you even think about it,” you reprimanded him softly, pushing him gently back down into the swinging bed. He let a small whine in disagreement, but didn’t try moving again.

“Maybe I should tell you a story,” you said, your voice low, calm. He blinked at you, his eyes still looking a little watery, and gave you another small whine. You began to rock the bed. “You know, I don’t think I’ve really told you any stories since I came on this ship,” you said, reaching up and running a finger over his ear, from base to tip. He made a small coo of happiness, and you smiled. “Granted, it hasn’t been that long since your dad hired me, has it?” You’d only been traveling with them for six months, give or take. You still sometimes had to, metaphorically, pinch yourself that this was your life now — galavanting around the galaxy with a Mandalorian and his charge.

You felt a small push against your finger, which had been resting on the tip of the child’s ear, followed by a small whine. You let out a short chuckle, and moved your finger, running it over his ear again. He leaned into the touch. “You know, the first time I saw you and your dad, I didn’t know what to think. I’d never met a Mandalorian before, but I knew of them, knew the stories of them. Who hadn’t?” You moved your hand from running to over his ear, to the top of his head. He cooed softy, eyes fluttering closed. “But, what surprised me the most was you, little one. Not because I had never seen creature like you. No, that wasn’t it. It was because you were with him. A Mandalorian and a child,” you whispered, noticing that the little one’s eyes were only half open now. You gave the top of his head a small scratch, and his eyes closed completely. “Even if you are older than both of us,” you added, a small chuckle escaping your lips as his eyes opened again, a bit slower than last time.

“It’s funny,” you mumbled, keeping your eyes trained on him. You watched as he snuggled himself a little deeper into his bed. “I never would have thought that one minute, I’d be fixing a blaster your dad needed repaired, then the next being on his ship, taking care of you.” A brief pause. “You know, he saved me, little one?” You felt a lump form in your throat, and you swallowed it. “Life hadn’t been easy when you two came around. Sure, I had a roof over my head and enough credits to keep me fed. But, it had been a lonely life.”

You took a deep breath. “My parents had been gone for a few years, and I had no siblings to seek comfort in. I worked for a nasty man, who liked to belittle me every chance he got, even if I was a better technician than he was. I had a few acquaintances, a few people I’d chat with every once in a while, maybe grab a drink with them at a cantina, but I didn’t have any real friends,” you paused. “Well, I did. At one point. But, things happen.” A heavy, dejected sigh escaped your lips. “People change. Life changes.” Absentmindedly, you ran your finger down the child’s cheek. His eyes were now half-open, the child hell bent on staying awake. Stubborn, like his father for sure. “But, now I’m here. And, I wouldn’t trade it for anything.” You pursed your lips in thought. “Well, it would be nice to have a larger, more comfortable bed. But, then I wouldn’t have you, and I wouldn’t have your dad.” The little one cooed quietly, and you chuckled pulling your finger from his cheek.

You became silent then, let yourself just watch the little one. He was settling nicely into his bed, looking more relaxed, his eyes staying closed. It should have only been a few more moments, and he’d be asleep. Just a few more moments and he’d be resting peacefully, and you could go back to working on that blaster. Just a few more minutes.

“I love him, you know,” you said, your voice barely a whisper. It was only when you heard the little one coo that you realized that you’d said that out loud. Your eyes widened as you took in the little one, his own eyes now open once more. He was looking at you, head titled slightly, big brown eyes focused on you. He blinked once, twice as if he was waiting for you to elaborate.

Fuck, you hadn’t planned to say that out loud. But you had — to the little one, no less. Sure, he couldn’t tell Mando what you’d said, so that was an advantage. But, Maker, what were you thinking?

You had only just admitted to yourself you were in love with the Mandalorian. You had spent weeks denying your feelings. After all, you hadn’t known each other long, there was no way you were actually in love with him. It had to be, you figured, because of your living situation — you two were in constant contact with each other, barely any room for privacy or time alone. He was the only person you could hold a full conversation with (not that you didn’t have conversations with the child, but it was very one-sided). So, maybe, it was just the situation. It had to be. But, as the days passed by, you realized that wasn’t the case. You had fallen for the Mandalorian. You were in love with him. You were in love with Mando.

A heavy sigh escaped your lips as you closed your eyes, and let your head fall into your hands. “You weren’t supposed to hear that, little one,” you said, the words slightly mumbled against your palms. “Nobody was supposed to hear that. And, especially not your dad — not that I don’t want him to know, I do. But, we haven’t been together long — in the sense of me being on the ship, you know — and I fear it will make him distant again. He was so distant when I first came aboard, but now.” You let out another heavy sigh, and move your hands away from your face to glance up at the little one. He has pulled himself up to look over the edge of his makeshift bed, his tired eyes looking down at you. There is a sad look up on his face, his large eyes searching yours. “I don’t know exactly how he feels, little one. But, I’ve seen his heart. You’ve seen his heart.” You paused and took a breath. “It’s in the little things. The way he sits with you when he flies. How he tries to teach you things — even if they backfire in his face,” you said, and a smile crossed your lips. The child gave a small tired little giggle. “Making this bed for you,” you said softly, reaching up and running your fingers over the material. “Making your little pouch. All those things, and more, show me his heart, show us his heart.” You leaned forward and pressed your forehead gently against the child’s. “He would do anything to keep you safe, little one. Anything. And that, makes him a good man.” The child let out a soft sound, and you pulled away from him, a soft smile on your lips.

There was a brief silence that settled between you. You let it hang in the air for a brief moment before speaking again. “Alright, come on, you need to go to sleep now. Apparently, trying to tell you a bedtime story is not the way I should go,” you said with a small chuckle. The child gave a small whine. “Don’t try and fight with me. We both know you’re tired. So come on, close those big, beautiful eyes,” you said, your voice dropping in volume. His eyes fluttered closed, and you reached out your fingers, letting it brush against his tiny hand. “There you go,” you muttered, continuing to brush his little hand with your finger in a soothing gesture. His eyes stayed closed, and his body seemed to relax into his bed. Another few moments, and his breathing had evened out, and you knew he was finally asleep. You let out a small sigh of relief. “Sleep well, little one,” you whispered, and with on final brush to his hand, you stood up from the bunk. You pressed the switch, shutting the bunks door with a small clink. You had barely turned away from the door when you heard a loud thunk, and found yourself coming face to face with Mando.

“Maker!” you yelped, practically jumping out of your skin, hand slapping against your chest. You could feel your heart pounding against your ribcage as you looked at Mando with wide eyes. “Mando,” you said, voice slightly out breath as you pressed your hand a little harder to your chest, physically and mentally willing your heart to slow down. “You can’t — fuck, you scared me. You’re lucky I closed the damn door before you did that. What if he’d woken up? I had a devil of a time getting him to sleep, you know,” you muttered, hand falling from your chest and back to your side.

“Did you now?” he asked, a hint of sarcasm in his tinny voice. You furrowed your brow, as he took another step closer to you, his beskar helmet only a few inches away from your face. He titled his helmet, and you could swear, if he didn’t have it on, there would be a smirk on his face. You felt a twinge of panic fill your face — had he, had he heard you? You mentally shook your head of that thought. You were being paranoid.

“I did,” you huffed as you turned away from him, taking a step toward where you had left the malfunctioning blaster.

“Maybe if you hadn’t talked so much,” he muttered, and you felt your entire body freeze, “he might have fallen asleep faster.”

It felt like you couldn’t breathe. Blood was rushing in your ears. Maker, he heard you. He heard you blabbing your feelings, you feelings for him, to the little one. The quick landing, the sarcasm you had heard— it all made sense. He had been there, above the two of you, listening, hearing every word you said. Your confession. You felt yourself begin to get warm with embarrassment, and you willed your body to move. You wanted to run, but where could you run? You were on a ship, in the middle of space — there was no where to go. Nowhere to hide.

You closed your eyes, and took a deep breathe before you slowly turned back to face Mando. You didn’t have to see his eyes to know he was staring at you, but Maker, did you wish you could see them. Wish you could see his face. Maybe then you could tell what he was thinking. Did he feel something too? Or, was he disgusted at the thought of you having feelings? Was he about to dismiss your feelings, maybe even drop you off at the next inhabited planet, leaving you there. Leaving you alone, again. No Mando, no kid. You swallowed that fear, those thoughts. “Listen, Mando, I—”

“Close your eyes.”

You blinked in confusion. “W—what?

“Do you trust me?”

You didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

“Then, close your eyes. And, promise me, you won’t open them.” You blinked, too stunned at his request to answer immediately. His gloved hand wrapped around your wrist, a barely there touched. “Promise me.” It should have been a demand, but it came out more as a desperate plea.

You looked down at the hand gently holding your wrist, then back at the beskar helmet in front of you. “Yea,” you breathed out, your voice barely above a whisper, “I promise. I promise,” you repeated. There was a moment of stillness where neither of you moved before you took a slow, deep breath and let your eyes fall closed.

You felt Mando let go of your wrist before you heard a clicking sound, followed by a soft hiss. It was followed by a loud clink of metal against the floor of the ship, near your feet, you thought. Then, there was a gloved hand on your cheek, the fabric rough against your skin. You felt the brush of his thumb over your cheek, and your breath hitched in your throat. “Mando, what are—”

The end of your question was gently swallowed by his lips.

Maker, you had not expected this. Immediately, you had wanted to open your eyes, because you weren’t sure this was real. Was he — was Mando really kissing you? But, he was kissing you. His soft lips were pressed against yours, not bruising, but not gentle either, and it didn’t take long before you felt his tongue swipe across the seam of your lips, seeking permission. You parted your lips with ease.  

At the first slide of his tongue against yours, a small whimper escaped your lips, your hand darting out as you blindly grabbed at his shoulder. You fisted as much of the material of his undershirt in your hand while the other part pressed against the cool beskar, and tugged, pulling him flush against you. You felt, more than heard, him groan when your bodies met, his hand tightening ever so slightly on your jaw while his other arm wrapped around your middle, holding you against him. You could feel warmth spreading in your limbs, and an excitement you hadn’t felt in a long time filling your veins and culminating between your legs.

You would have kept kissing him, would have let yourself suffocate in his kisses, but a few seconds later, you felt him begin to pull away. Before his lips could leave yours completely, you pulled his bottom lip between your teeth, giving it a quick nip. And, fuck, the sound that came out of his mouth. You felt another spike of arousal course through you, and you almost, almost opened your eyes. But, you promised you wouldn’t, and you knew what it meant if you did. So, you forced yourself to keep them closed as you tried to regain control of yourself, your hand still clutching his shoulder.

There’s a moment where the two of you stand there, your breath mingling with one another as you both tried to calm your racing hearts. But, it is brief, and before you know it, the hand that was resting on your cheek falls, and the arm around your waist loosens and you feel him step away. Immediately, you want to pull him back to you, bring his lips back to yours. But, you don’t. You’re frozen once more — in fear, in shock, in elation, you’re not quite sure.

You took a shuddering breath. “Mando—”

“Din,” you hear him say, and it sounds pure, smooth. It’s then you realize the helmet is still off. You can’t help the butterflies that form in your stomach at the sound of his unmodulated voice. His voice. It sounds like liquid gold to your ears. But then ,you hear the sounds you heard before he kissed you, the click and hiss, of the helmet falling back into place.

You wait a beat before you let your eyes flutter open, and you come face to face with the beskar helmet once more.

“Din Djarin,” he repeated, and reached out, brushing one of his gloved fingers down your cheek, over your jaw, and stopping at the nape of your neck. “My name is Din Djarin.”

His finger began to draw an absentminded pattern across your shoulder. You could tell by the tilt of his head that his eyes were focused on that finger. That finger that kept moving as the moments ticked by, never stopping, never making any sense against your skin. For the first time since you’d met him, you could tell he was nervous.

You knew he didn’t tell his name to anyone. You had asked when you’d met him what his name was. He had told you to call him Mando. You had thought it odd, but did not think it was your place to push him (you had only just met him, after all). So, you called him Mando, as did everyone else you had come in contact with. But, four months later, you decided to finally push the subject. He told you that he had not used his birth name since he was a child, since he was sworn into the Creed. There were only a few who knew name, and only due to an extenuating circumstance, he had said, making it clear he did not tell anyone. Nobody should have known his name — and from what you could tell, he had no plans of telling any one in the future.

But, here he was, standing in front of you, telling you his name. Willingly giving you this piece of information about himself. You knew he couldn’t show you his face — not yet, not now — but he could give you this. He could give you this part of himself. If the kiss wasn’t enough for you to know that he felt something for you, this sealed the deal. It wasn’t an outright “I love you”, but to you, it was something more, something deeper than that. This was him trusting you, him giving you a part of himself. It filled your heart with joy.

“Din,” you whispered, letting the name roll of your tongue, and filling the space around you. His finger had stopped its’ random movements, and his head tilted up, and you were face to face with the all too familiar beskar helmet. You smiled softly and wondered if he was smiling behind it too. You reached out, and let your fingertips dance over the cool metal. “Din Djarin,” you said, letting yourself try out his full name. 

It was beautiful. It was him.

“It suits you,” you said, resting your palm against the side of his helmet. “I love it.”

Din let out a small, breathy, modulated chuckle. “You do?”

You nodded. “I do, cause it’s you.” You leaned forward, pressing your forehead against the cool metal of his helmet, your eyes fall closed. “And, I love you, Din Djarin,” you whispered softly, a small smile tugging at your lips. You wished you could have seen his face, but instead, you heard an intake of breath before you felt a strong arm wrap around your waist, hand splayed over your hip. His gloved fingers pressed into your hip bone.

“You mean that?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You hummed and nodded, letting your free hand fall onto his chest, right over his heart. You couldn’t feel his heart under the beskar chest plate, but you imagined it was beating rapidly, just like yours. “I do.” Perhaps, it was too early to say such things, to declare that you loved him. Most people might think you were crazy, and maybe you were, but that didn’t matter. You loved him — you loved Din.

“Even without,” he paused, and you heard him take a breath. You let your eyes fuller open, and you pulled back a hair, just enough to be able to take him in. He didn’t have to finish his sentence for you to know what he was talking about — even without seeing his face.

“Hey,” you said softly, making sure his he was paying attention to you. “I don’t need to see your face.”

You heard a small, disbelieving chuckle. “Don’t need to see my face, eh?”

“Nope,” you said, popping the ‘p’. You tilted your head in thought. “Well, I mean, do I want to see your face? Absolutely.” You moved your fingers across the cheek of his helmet, to the visor, letting it trace the T-shape. “I want to see the color of your eyes, your nose, your mouth. The wrinkles and lines on your face. All of it.” You let your finger come to rest at the bottom of his helmet, just on the rim. You ran your finger over the smooth metal. “But, I know what that means for you, and I’m willing to wait for that. Your face is your face, and I’m sure it is a handsome face.” Another small chuckle escaped Din’s lips. “But, I don’t need to see it to know what I feel in my heart, Din.”

“You don’t?” He sounded surprised,

You shook your head. “I don’t. Because, I’ve seen you, Din Djarin,” you said, your voice filled with conviction as you looked at him straight on, right where his eyes would be behind that beskar helmet. “I’ve seen you.”

[thewriterowl]

God bless the hashtag owl inbox I found so many beautiful AUs and headcanons.

The idea of a The Last of Us AU .... my god, can't wait.

Priest Din is hot as hell ...

All the AU about Vader / Anakin.

Pianist!Luke....

This place is amazing, is like a DinLuke wonderland.

Victorian Era AU is one of my favorites so far.

Lord Djarin .... my god, dressed in elegant clothes watching his handsome gardener plant flowers in his garden.

And Luke who is shy and worried about their social difference but can't help but be in love with him.

God, can we have some headcanons about this Victorian Era please?

Oh man, ok, let me think of Victorian Era...so something I like in the theme or Victorian Era is this horror/fantasy element. I've written (though it hasn't been updated in a bit) a Tony/Steve fic of this time as a Dark!Cinderella type thing with a Fae element. That stuff is my jam. But this should be original...so instead this would have LOADS of pining.

Luke is a twice-orphaned poor soul who is very talented with gardening to the point he is hired for the Djarin Estate to tend to the massive gardens that the mysterious lord put in for his young son. He makes everything bloom and get filled with so many colors that the young lord, Grogu, is constantly happy and just wants to be outside whenever he can. He is constantly grinning and follows after Luke like a puppy. The child doesn't speak but Luke can seem to understand him and teaches him all he can about botany and gardening.

Not much is known about the master of the house, lord Din Djarin, only that he showed up one day, with enormous wealth, and a mysterious child, and claimed his right to the estate. He is very selective on who he hires and seems to trust no one.

Luke, however, does notice a man watching out from the windows from time to time, gazing at the work and how his son is doing. Though, recently, Luke has felt the stare on himself often too.

Because of Grogu, they eventually begin to talk. Luke is fascinated and enamored with the handsome and quiet lord. But he keeps that to himself. He's a poor commoner without much talent or looks or personality to ever earn the attention of someone like Lord Djarin.

Yeah, Din is pretty enamored right back. Luke is beautiful and soft and amazing with Grogu. He's made everything around the estate beautiful and seems to always have a pleasant smile on his face.

Din starts to woo the younger man. At first he buys him items for his work, to make things easier...but then he starts to buy him journals and botany books, claiming to help with his interests. Then Luke's garden house he lives in is getting updated and he has amazing sheets and pillows, rich food and sweet bread...then he is earning days off where he can sleep and just spend time with Grogu and Din...then he's getting clothes and jewels and Luke is becoming very confused.

Din confesses his feelings for Luke in the garden. They probably sleep together for the first time there too.

Luke is all flustered and overwhelmed because he isn't anyone--why would a Lord want him?? He tries to pull back, worried that he would damage the man's reputation but Din won't have it. He could care less what others think. He's not dependent on others. He wants to marry Luke, so he will. He does not need permission from some backwards society to do so.

Luke still has a tendency of calling Din Lord Djarin...often times in bed which is something they both like lol

[ezrasarm]

Loving You Too Late

[ day 3 | angstaggedon masterlist ]

Pairing: Frankie “Catfish” Morales x Reader

Word count: 4.6K

Summary: You and Frankie have loved each other for a long time. You’re just a little out of synch.

Warnings: Angst, a tad bit of cheating (more like brief romantic overlap), language, main characters being idiots, oh and theres a funeral too

Credits: A massive thank you to @chaotic-noceur​ and @din-damn-djarin​ for beta reading and listening to me complain about how much of an idiot I am for deciding to write this! I don’t know that I would have finished it without your encouragement and now it’s the longest oneshot in my repertoire!

A/N: “Let’s write oneshots!” we said. “It’ll be fun!” we said. “Just connect the bullet points!” we said… 4.6K words later. Yeah we really have no self control at all do we?

You and Frankie had known one another pretty much all your lives. Your parents both had cottages on the same small lake where you would spend most of your summers. His place was just two doors down from your own so you knew who he was through community events and simply for being the “Morales Kid”. You hadn’t really gotten to know him until one summer when you applied for a job at the general store just across the lake. He was working stocking shelves the same year. You don’t think you’ll ever forget that first shift you shared together. You hadn’t seen him in a couple of years and you could hardly believe the name tag clipped to his shirt labelled “Frankie” when you first set eyes on him. He’d grown up a lot in the meantime. He was taller, his shoulders had broadened and he was more solidly built than the lanky little kid you’d known him as for so long. But the mop of wild chestnut curls on top of his head that he hid under a beat-up and salt-stained truckers cap assured you it was him. 

It was the boredom of day-long shifts in the near-empty store that made the two of you overcome your timid demeanours. It started with you offering him a soda on one of your lunch breaks. That turned into long conversations with one another when your boss was nowhere to be seen, sending goofy looks to each other over the shoulders of unsuspecting customers, and stealing the occasional ice cream from the freezer. Soon just hanging out at work turned into hanging out whenever you got the chance. You peering over his shoulder as he tinkered with boat motors he’d salvaged from the brink of death. Him timing you when you would swim lengths between the neighbour’s dock and your own. Before you knew it you were taking any excuse you could to spend time with one another, until it came to the point where you didn’t even need an excuse at all. Suddenly you and this shy kid with his feet on the ground and his head in the clouds were inseparable.

Of course, Frankie being Frankie didn’t realize what that clenching feeling that rose in his chest every time he set eyes on you was until it wasn’t there anymore. Summer had to come to an end at some point, and with it you two were reluctantly dragged away to your respective ends of the state to finish off school. The almost seven-hour drive between you complicated your usual hangout rituals but you took to calling one another whenever you got the chance. Frankie’s friends would tease him for it but he practically sprinted across the room whenever the phone rang. He had thick skin. He brushed them off when they would hoot or holler and make kissing sounds at the mention of your name. “She’s not my girlfriend.” He would remind them through an irritated roll of his eyes whenever they would ask about you. What he hadn’t realized was that the annoyance he felt towards them wasn’t because of their mocking tone or their rowdy demeanours but because a part of him wished you were.

It was a Friday night after you had ended your call with a heavy yawn and an apology that you had to go to sleep because you were up early that morning. A goofy smile lingered on his face as he flopped back into his bed, that infectious laugh of yours was still ringing in his ears when that feeling washed over him again. The same one that made his stomach flip when you would shoot him a grin from the checkout of the shop. The one that made his blood boil when his friends would joke at him for making you up. The one that made his heart break when the line went dead after you hung up. The one that made his palms sweat and his heart hammer against his ribcage at the mere thought of you. Suddenly it hit him like a freight train all at once. It was too obvious to deny any more. He was completely, absolutely and utterly head over heels for you.

But as school work ramped up and your agenda got fuller and fuller, your calls became fewer and farther in between. A quick ‘hello’, ‘what’s new?’, ‘nothing much’ and a ‘sorry, I gotta go’. There were a few times where he almost let it slip. The conversation would come to a lull and his eyes would fall to his feet. His hand would instinctively come to scratch the back of his neck as he readjusted his grip on the phone. He would even start the sentence. “Listen, uh” Then he’d shake the thought away. As desperate as he had grown to tell you how he felt he couldn’t bring himself to do it over the phone. He needed to see your face. He wanted to lock his gaze onto those beautiful eyes of yours and see your reaction. His skin crawled at the idea of the words tumbling out of his mouth only for you to go silent and that dreaded tone to ring through the line telling him you had hung up. He would tell you this summer, he promised himself. Just a few months. He could hang on that long. 

Which he did. He had a speech planned by the time he watched your car pull up the driveway to the small wooden cabin you called your home every summer. A smile broke across his face as he stood up from the doorstep where he had been waiting to greet you. You came barrelling out of the car the moment it came to a full stop, just about knocking him over with the force you collided to envelop him in a tight hug. 

“Why are you crying, you big baby?” He teased when you pulled away only for him to see your eyes were watery with unshed tears. 

“Because I missed you, you idiot!” You force out a laugh, whacking the visor on his cap lightly so it fell down in over his line of sight before wiping away the damp from around your temples with the heel of your palm.

Frankie’s heart is hammering in his chest when he parts his lips to speak again. He’s got the words on the tip of his tongue when a voice he doesn’t recognize emerges from behind you. “So you’re the famous Frankie I’ve heard so much about!” He feels the smile on his face drop the moment his eyes fall on the stranger in question who has now tucked his arm around your waist. “I’m Mike.” He says, an amiable smile on his face as he extends a free hand to shake. Frankie hesitates a moment, his confession from before still lodged in the back of his throat. He has to choke it down with a curt smile before he accepts the gesture. He’s not sure how long he stands there, politely nodding along to the conversation, his mind elsewhere as you make introductions he’s not ready to hear. You looked so happy together he can’t help but feel out of place. He’s not even sure what words he used to excuse himself as he retreats down the beaten dirt path that leads back to his place. 

He’d never felt his emotions flip on their head so fast he felt he might have vertigo. Yet here he was, his head spinning and the taste of bile bitter on his tongue. He felt like a fool. Wracking his brain for any sign you could’ve given him, any warning that would have told him to stop. Stop loving you as though that were a thing that was within his power to do. He’s got every phone call you had shared since you left playing on repeat in his head but he keeps coming up empty. You gave him nothing. That or he was too selfishly consumed in his own ardency for you that it hadn’t even occurred to him that you might already have your own… for someone else.

“Hey, where were you?” You asked him from where you’d perched yourself on the stretch of dock just in front of the boathouse. His boathouse. Your toes just barely skimmed the surface of the calm water sending ripples across the lake. It had been three days that you hadn’t seen him, a long stretch by your standards. At first, you had simply put it down to him being busy. Maintaining his parent’s property was no small feat and there was no one there to help him yet this season. But the longer you went without a sign of him the more worried you started to get. 

“Had to pick up gas for the boat.” He said, jostling the jerrycan in his grasp and you formed your mouth into an ‘o’ as you nodded in understanding.

“Did it strand you in the middle of the lake again?” You ask a smug grin pulling at the corner of your lip as you recall the time you saw him fruitlessly rowing the old fishing boat against the wind with only one ore and had to go out there and rescue him yourself.

“No,” He scolds you genially as he comes to sit next to you with a heavy sigh. “...not this time.” He adds, causing an affable chuckle, one that made his heart skip a beat in his chest, to escape you. It’s only when he catches himself staring at your up-quirked lips that he has to clear his throat. A pang of guilt that hasn’t quite become custom yet is nagging at the back of his mind as his gaze falls in front of him. 

“Where’s Mike?” He asks hesitantly, not entirely sure he wants an answer to that question yet.

“He left this morning.” You say. He hates that the sombre note to your voice actually gives him an ounce of hope for a moment. “He has to be back in town for work on Monday.”

“Ah, a city boy.” Frankie teases in an attempt to muffle his own disappointment and you jostle him with your shoulder chidingly.

“Hey, lay off.” You laugh softly before your tone shifts and those upturned corners of your mouth drop wistfully. “I thought you’d like him.” You said, quieter now as though you weren’t convinced you wanted him to hear it. 

He hated the way you looked up at him, your eyes blown wide with such expectation. He hated that his opinion mattered and that it wasn’t the one you wanted to hear. Because that was just it. Frankie did like him. Or at least he couldn’t bring himself to hate him. He should like him and yet the mere mention of ‘Mike’ made him want to punch a wall. He’d been hiding away this entire weekend because he could hardly stand the thought of looking you in the eye when he couldn’t tell you the one thing that had been playing in his mind on a loop for months. Yet here you were, forcing his hand and he couldn’t even be mad about it. He was just so desperate to be near you.

“I- yeah.” He clears his throat as his gaze falls to the water, and a pregnant pause fills the air. You purse your lips as it hits you that he’s less enthused about this introduction than you had hoped he would be. “Why didn’t you tell me about him?” He huffs out softly through an obviously feigned attempt at a smile. But the truth was you didn’t know. Or at least you didn’t want to know. You couldn’t figure out why but something in the back of your mind had told you it would hurt him. And with the look on his face as you tried to come up with a decent answer, he was beginning to prove you right. 

“I don’t know.”

You hadn’t intended for it to work out this way. But that just so happened to be the last conversation you had with him. You left for university and the next thing you heard, he had shipped out and joined the army. Perhaps it would have stung a little less had he been the one to tell you, but you had to hear it through your parents when you went home for mid-term break. Everything about the way you left things with him made you sick to your stomach. You had drifted apart from your fair share of friends over the years. It was never easy. It always hurts. But it had never hurt like this. It took you years to find out why.

“Whatever happened to you two?” Margaret, the next-door neighbour who lived just between your cottage and Frankie’s, asked, looking fondly at the scrapbook in her lap. “You were always so cute together.” She added, her voice warbling with what she excused as ‘age’. She had come over briefly to borrow something when you invited her in for a drink and she caught sight of the picture book on the coffee table.

“Who?” You asked, leaning over to take a look at the photo. “Oh, we weren’t… together.” You interjected, feeling childish for the way you avoided the implication that you and Frankie had ever been a couple at all costs. 

“Really?” She asked, leaning back to quirk an eyebrow at you skeptically. “Try telling him that.” She scoffed, plucking another photo from the binder. It was the two of you at the end of your dock. You were flaunting the tiny ass fish you had caught for the camera as though you had just caught that night’s dinner. But what grabbed your attention wasn’t the goofy look on your face, the ridiculous stance you had adopted, or the fish you were holding cautiously at an arm’s length. It was Frankie, his gaze set unflinchingly on you.

“Really, we were just… friends.” You try to explain, but you’re too distracted by the admiring look in his eyes and lopsided grin at his lips to sound entirely convinced by yourself. 

“All I know is that the way he is looking at you,” she says, prodding a shaky finger at the photograph, “is not how friends look at one another.” She concluded before dropping the subject altogether. 

Sure, it had crossed your mind from time to time. The idea of you and Frankie being together wasn’t all too outlandish. You could see how she might have been confused after all. You got along well, you spent a lot of time together, you cared about him deeply and dare you say you even loved him but- 

You loved him. 

The thought had implanted itself in your mind before you could even process it and suddenly you couldn’t believe what you were admitting. Staring down the snapshot of your former self now, all you could do was wonder why the hell you couldn’t have caught on sooner. Why you couldn’t have turned around in that moment, seen him and had it all snap into place before you managed to fuck it up so royally. Why...Why did you have to fuck it up? Your mind snapped back to the night before you left that summer. You hugged him and you could still feel the lurch in your chest, not unlike the one you were experiencing now, from when his grip on you lingered a few moments longer than usual. 

You were scared.

Scared because you had never done this before. You had never been in love or fallen out of it, and you had convinced yourself the only outcome was heartbreak. Scared because if things went south, you would lose not only the person you had ever loved like that but your best friend too and that was too high a price for you to pay. Scared because you didn’t want to hurt him just because you knew you were too afraid to take the leap. 

Turns out you managed to do that anyway. 

So now, as much as you wanted to- as much as your heart bled for you to march down to his place and bang on his front door until he was forced to open up, you knew you were too late. He was stationed god knows where with a whole new life of his own. You probably couldn’t even get a hold of him now if you tried. So you didn’t. Instead you cleared your throat, took a sip of water and asked Margaret if she had any big plans for the summer. 

You thought you had moved on. Which was why you weren’t looking for him when you attended the very same Margaret’s funeral six years later. You weren’t searching for him when you caught sight of a familiar silhouette a couple meters ahead of you and you certainly weren’t trying to grab his attention when you snatched that trucker’s cap off his head on your way into the church for the service. 

“Really? At a funeral? You’re wearing a suit.” You chided as he whipped around, his hand instinctively going to smooth down his hair as his eyes fell on you. He hesitated a moment, his mouth agape as he took you in. Your immediate assumption was that he didn’t want to see you, that perhaps time alone doesn’t heal all wounds and as much as you had hoped this would be easy, as much as you wished you could fall back into old habits as though nothing had happened, you were different people now. It had been twelve years after all. A wave of panic rose in your chest as you tried to fill the silence. “I didn’t think you owned one of those.” You joked. ‘Sure, tease him more. That’ll help’ you cursed yourself but you were relieved when a soft chuckle escaped him.

“No, I uh, I had to borrow it.” He huffed out. He was sure his cheeks were on fire with the heat that had flooded them all of a sudden. He froze the moment he laid eyes on you. He hadn’t done that in years and suddenly he felt himself being reduced to some teenage crush that made his heart stutter and his palms sweat. “Y- You look good.” He remarked, still feeling out of his element in the ill-fitting suit as he watched you, beautiful as ever, toying with the brim of his hat.

“So do you.” You said, biting back the smile that threatened to break across your face. This clearly wasn’t the place. You wound up sitting together for the rest of the ceremony, dropping by the reception for a moment to pay your respects, then inviting him for a drink at the bar just down the street so you could catch up properly. There was a moment’s pause where you thought he might turn you down. He probably had things to get back to in his limited time back in town and who were you to get in the way of that? But instead he shot you a classic Frankie smile, one you hadn’t seen in a long time, and you wound up reliving memories of summers passed in the dingy leather clad booth for hours.

It was as you emptied out into the parking lot. It was late and you both had places to be in the morning. Perhaps you’d had a bit too much to drink or maybe it was just that magnetic pull you always seemed to feel when you were around him. His head was thrown back in laughter over something you had said and his features, aged slightly from the time that had elapsed but still carrying those undefinably ‘Frankie’ qualities you had fallen in love with in the first place, had been outlined in the dull glow of the orange street light a couple meters away. For one glimmering moment you felt as though you had been handed a second chance. The one you had told yourself it wasn’t possible and that even if it were you were too late. But you had lived through that loss. The one that had paralyzed you with fear and self doubt for so long. You had suffered the aftermath and you had missed him so deeply you felt you were missing a part of yourself. And now he was standing right here in front of you. You weren’t about to let him slip through your fingers again.

“Frankie, I loved you.” You blurted out suddenly only to watch the smile that had been plastered to his face drop in the blink of an eye. ‘Well you sure had a funny way of showing it’ was his immediate thought but he was too stunned to get that out.

“You what?” He asked, not because your words hadn’t reached his ears but because he couldn’t seem to make sense of them. He had spent so long thinking you simply weren’t interested in him. That he wasn’t good enough or that he would always be playing second fiddle to someone else. Someone better suited for you, that you actually felt something for.

“I said I-” 

“No, I heard you.” He clarified but the clip to his tone and that look in his eye told you that you had overstepped. That you had just undone all the progress you’d made over the past couple hours. That this time you wouldn’t be able to rebuild the bridges you had just demolished so carelessly. How was it that he was always the one to suffer for your mistakes?

“Frankie I’m sorry, I never meant-” You didn’t even get to finish your sentence before his lips were firmly planted on your own, a hand splayed against the small of your back, pulling you in towards him. You had to grip his upper arm just to keep yourself from toppling over from the sheer momentum of it all. Your heartbeat was pounding in your ears and you were sure the alcohol in your veins wasn’t helping the way your head was spinning but something clicked in your mind. It felt so right being in his arms, so comfortable, safe and familiar like this was the only place you were ever meant to be. You had just about gotten over the shock of it all, your muscles relaxing and your hand coming to cradle the nape of his neck when as quickly as they had arrived his lips were gone. He hovered there a moment, his breath, still heavy with fervor, was fanning over your top lip and his eyes were screwed shut tight as though if he opened them you would have disappeared. He just needed a moment longer before the stage set collapsed. Just a second... but it was already too late.

“Fuck,” He muttered more to himself but it made you shift awkwardly on your feet anyways as he pulled away, straightening back up to his full height. You felt much smaller now as you looked up at him. “Fuck, we shouldn’t have- I shouldn’t have done that.” He stammered out suddenly, eyes pleading when all you wanted was for him to do it again.

“Frankie it’s fine, really, I-“ You went to explain, your fingertips reaching out to lace in his own but he flinched away the moment you made contact, his hand retracting as he stepped back to place some distance between you with a clearing of his throat.

“I should- I should go.” He gulped back, an apologetic look flashing over his features once more before he turned to walk away. You had to choke down the sting at the back of your throat, and bite back your quivering lip as you watched him leave. You weren’t quite sure what you had done wrong but any words in protest seem to catch on their way out. You felt powerless to anything but watch it all unfurl. 

You didn’t sleep that night, thoughts still reeling from the events of that evening. You tossed and turned until sunlight poured through your curtains and you were forced to give up. You weren’t ready to admit to yourself that that was it. That you had already screwed up your second chance, your final chance. Before you were even sure of what you were doing you had the number he had given you last night dialed into your phone, the tone ringing out a few too many times before you heard him finally pick up. “Hey, uh, it’s me. Listen, I just wanted to say that I know last-”

“Hello?” But the voice that came out from the other end of the line was not one that you recognized. It was a woman. You stopped dead in your tracks, your words lodging somewhere in the back of your throat.

“Sorry, I must have the wrong number. Is this Frankie Morales’ phone?” You stammered out, your words struggling to catch up with the thoughts spinning through your mind.

“No, this is the right number. He just stepped into the shower.” The mystery woman explained. “Can I take a message for you?”

“No thats- Can I ask who’s speaking?” You asked. You could already feel tears stinging at your eyes as the pieces started to fall into place. Why he pulled away, why he ran off and left you stunned in the parking lot of a small town bar after the best damn kiss of your entire life. The best damn kiss because it was with him...

“Jeanine,” She said and quite suddenly you felt like an idiot. You hadn’t even considered this outcome. That maybe your second chance wasn’t a chance at all. That you were foolish enough to think someone wouldn’t have smartened up and realized how remarkable he was before you.

“Jeanine…” You weren’t even aware you had repeated the name until it had slipped off your tongue, your voice weak and disbelieving. 

“His fiance.” She confirmed. You had to bite your knuckle to hold back the silent sob threatening to pry its way past your lips, white hot tears now breeching your waterline and streaming freely down your cheeks. You couldn’t even find it in yourself to dislike her. She was perfectly polite- probably perfect for him.  

“Right, of course.” You shake your head, attempting to get your breathing back under control before uttering your next words. You wanted to be mad at him for making you the other woman- for letting you become the other woman. For not telling you. But you couldn’t even manage that. It was your own doing. All you had done was rub salt in old wounds and now you were left with the searing evidence. “I’m sorry to bother you. I’ll- I’ll call back later.” You lie before hanging up. The line goes dead and the silence that surrounds you now is deafening as you slump back down onto your bed. 

And that was it. The end of something that never even began. You missed your chance. You were too late and now you were the one who would suffer for it. For knowing what his lips tasted like on your own, knowing the completeness you felt in his arms, and knowing you would never be able to feel it again.

[ angstageddon masterlist | Ezra’s arm masterlist ]

-- angstageddon taglist

@chaoticspaceidiot​  @engineeredfiction​ @pedropascalito​ @dreamgirl-67  @hillarymurray4​ @din-damn-djarin​  @wille-zarr​ @chaotic-noceur​ @oloreaa​ @this-cat-is-dea​ @marydjarin​ @roxypeanut​ @cryptkeepersoul​ @mrschiltoncat​ @agirllovespasta​ @wickedfrsgrl​ @dindisneydjarin​  @opheliaelysia​  @aeryntheofficial​ @adikaofmandalore​ @goldafterglow​ @yespolkadotkitty​ @chibi-liz05​ @scarlettvonsass​ @rpcvliz​ @cinewhore @basura2319​ @theravenreads​ @mxndoscyarika​ @jaime1110​ @f0rever15elf​ @pancakepike​ @phoenixhalliwell​ @ahopelessromanticwritersworld​

[javisjeanjacket]

Stagnation - (poe dameron x reader)

A/N: everyone needs a lil hurt/comfort Poe Dameron daydream :). I tried to make this one as gender neutral as I could, but please let me know if i missed something! I want to work on being more gender neutral when I write. 

As always, if i use your gif let me know so that I can tag ya!

Warnings: um...none? I mean its a hurt/comfort so there’s some angst and some fluff.

Word Count: 1.6K

Your breath shook and kissed the metal of the door before you. You tapped the strap of the blaster holster fastened around your hip with the very tips of your fingers. Once, twice, three times for good luck. Armed with the luck of your blaster and a steaming bowl of soup in one your hands, you pressed an open palm to the handprint scanner stationed beside the door.

The mint green of the scanner zipped underneath your hand, casting an eerie glow through the tendons and muscles there. It beeped with satisfaction and then the door in front of you slid upwards, revealing an absolute mess of a room and an absolute mess of a man curled in the bed sitting against the far wall.

You stepped inside, blinking in the palpable must and stagnation of Poe Dameron's quarters. The Resistance's most valuable pilot had willed the fates so strongly that they had been forced to allow him to freeze time and remain here-frozen in his grief and guilt. His hands wrapped so tightly around the cord of time that he seemed to warp all the stars around him, strangling them as tightly as he did the blanket lying beside him. 

You cleared your throat and moved cautiously, walking heel to toe as to not spill the steaming bowl of soup; past forgotten flightsuits, tossed machinery manuals, tired boots, and crinkled wrappers of Poe's favorite candy, Koyobursts.

The pilot did not stir in the unmade bed, his body laying so that he faced the viewport on the opposite side of the room.

You sighed, the weight of the empathy pressing devilishly on your shoulders. Sitting delicately upon the side of the bed you had left just hours ago, you gently moved the bowl of now cooling soup to his nightstand. Your eyes scanned over his form, a nurse assessing their patient's wounds, and you reached out a tender hand to touch his shoulder.

The fabric of Poe's t-shirt was worn and longing to be washed, it's fibers straining against his oily skin. You squeezed his shoulder softly, tempting him back towards yourself.

"I brought you some soup." You whispered. The words seemed to resound in the room as the shouts of a mighty chorus. You could hear them ringing in your ears and shaking through your veins.

You worried about Poe every day, of course. Worried about his hot head and his quick trigger finger and his burning heart. You worried when he kissed you hurriedly, lips squished and harsh against yours, as he ran to his X-Wing. You worried when he didn't talk to his father for more than a week. Kes's voice and sage advice always seemed to comfort and guide him when he felt that he was less than what he should be. But this, this absolute emptiness, the broken shell of a man lying in bed next to you, this worried you more than any First Order attack or close call ever had.

Poe seemed to not hear your offering of soup, or maybe he did and didn't have the energy to say he wasn't hungry. His body remained as a statue, a heavy laden stone doomed to spend eternity crumpled like this in his Resistance issued mattress.

Sitting next to Poe, his face sullen and the stars in his eyes burnt out, sent a knife through your chest; chopping and catching on every tendon of your aching heart. You softly unbuckled the belt holding your blaster and kicked off your boots, trying to keep the noise to a minimum. With as much grace as you could muster, you wriggled into the smelly sheets behind him and wrapped your arm around his middle, pulling yourself close enough to kiss the back of his neck. His skin was oily and coated your lips with a salty taste as you worked your way up his neck and to the space behind his ear.

Poe realized you were there now, one of his hands reaching up to rest upon your arm tucked around him.

"Are you hungry?" You whispered, your lips pressing again to the stubble collecting on his jawline.

The dark-haired man sighed meekly and shook his head no.

"Baby, you have to be hungry. I haven't seen you eat anything but Koyobursts in two days." You tried to reason with him as you took a piece of his oily hair and ran your fingers through it, gently pulling your fingernails across his scalp.

"I'm not." His voice was soft and filmy, the cobwebs of melancholy resting over it.

You sighed and rested your head in the crook of his neck. You moved your hand now to run over his hair, over and over again, the greasy pieces flipping up with resilience as you moved over them.  "Poe, you couldn't have known what she would do. You did what you thought was right. We all did."

"Holdo died-" His voice caught as her name always did in his throat. "She died because of me. I couldn't just shut up and trust her and she died."

You tucked your lips into your mouth. "Sweetheart, you're not the one who made her stay behind. You weren't even conscious when she told Leia she would stay."

Poe's form grew rigid underneath you. You could feel his teeth gritting in his jaw. "But we would have had more time to get away," His voice was sharp and unyielding, searching for an undamaged part of his heart to scathe. "We would have been able to come up with a better plan, if I-"

Pressing your palm to the underside of his chin, you pushed against his pillow to gently move his face from the bed. "Hey." You interrupted, your voice now finding it’s legs. "Of course we would have been able to come up with a better plan if we had had more time. But we didn't. We didn't have more time and we didn't have more ships or more people. We had what we had and we did what we thought was best. So did Holdo. That's all we could have done."

Poe's eyes were swollen and red-ringed, the skin underneath them puffed up with emotion and over stimulation. His dark eyebrows, now scattered and wild from tickling a pillowcase for a few days, pushed themselves together as he looked over your face. His umber colored eyes danced across your features and his breathing picked up when he met your gaze once more. Wrenching himself out of the indention he had made in the bed, he turned to lay with his face to you.

"I've been thinking." He began.

You sighed and braced yourself.

"You should leave me." He said, his voice cracking. 

Knowing Poe and knowing how he allowed his failures to creep up from behind him and whisper to him that he was nothing without their sweet devotion, you perked an eyebrow and replied. "Alright. State your case."

Poe nodded and swallowed, his conviction settling over him. "I'm- I'm a liability. I'm too hot-headed and I can't keep you safe and you would be better off with someone who hasn't gotten someone else killed recently." Your boyfriend looked out of the side of his eyes and over your face, searching for any kind of clue as to what you were feeling, searching for you to reassure him, to hold his heart even closer now that he had asked you to leave it alone.

You paused a beat and felt waves of adoration wash over you. Looking over his yearning face, you could see every time he had flashed you a smile as he hopped in his X-Wing, every time he had touched the small of your back when you stood together, every sweet whisper in your ear in the midst of a crowd. You could see his love for you hiding under the ridge of his nose and in the shadows of his eyelashes on his cheek. "Nah, you're not getting rid of me that easy, Dameron."

A soft smile crept up on Poe's face and tugged at the edges of his mouth. He let out a sigh and looked down to the intermingling of your legs with his. “You sure?”

Playfully, you reached out a hand to push against his shoulder. “Of course I’m sure.” 

Poe’s dark eyes flicked back up to yours and you noticed the first embers of warmth returning to them.

"This thing is going to be over one day." You said, reaching out to tuck a particularly unruly curl behind his ear. "And it's not going to be over because Poe Dameron made one bad choice one time in one situation."

"You don't know that." He whispered, his eyes still avoiding yours.

"You can't carry the weight of the fight for every single planet all by yourself, sweetheart. Your shoulders will get too tired." Smiling gently, you moved your hand from his hair to his cheek and ran a thumb across his stubbly face.

The man before you sighed heavily and pressed a kiss to your palm. "I know that. I'm just....I’m so tired. I want it to stop." His heart rested so carefully on his tongue, teetered on the brink of collapse.

Echoing Poe’s bleeding one, the heart inside you jumped at his words, yearning to reach out and take the agony from him. To curl and squish it, until it was small enough to hide somewhere he would never find it. "It will stop one day. We just have to kick their asses first."

He chuckled. "Yeah, just that little thing first."

You smiled and scooted closer to him, tucking your head underneath his.

Poe ran a hand over the top of your head, pressed a kiss to your forehead, and rested his hands around your waist. A beat of silence passed between the two of you when he said, "Did you bring me soup?"

POE DAMERON TAGLIST: @softly-sad​ @itsamedeemoney 

ANY/EVERYTHING TAGLIST: @mcolbz14​

What did you think? I really hope you enjoyed reading my work. Just your liking / re-blogging it means a lot. If you have a moment, I would love to hear your thoughts! Tell me what you think via my ask box or a comment always warms my heart!! Thank you again for reading!

Need more reading material? You can visit my Masterlist for more Poe Dameron content, as well as my other works.

Want to be kept in the loop? Let me know so I can put your handle in my taglist form. Right now, I’m writing for Poe Dameron, Santi, Shara x Kes, and Din Djarin, but I have plans to expand my SW character list, and eventually add in my favorites from the MCU as well.

Thanks again for reading! Sending love! -hai

[iwriteforthetincanman]

I’ll take care of you

A/N: my first Din Djarin x gn!reader fic!

All you remembered was that you felt a bit queasy going to bed the night before, then when you woke up you quickly ran to the refresher just to empty out the contents of your stomach. Using the toilet seat as support you shakily got back on your feet only to stumble back into bed. It felt like everything was spinning and you were scared you were gonna be sick again.

Thankfully Mando had overheard what happened and came out of his quarters. “Hey, you ok?” you heard his voice crackle through the modulator. You would’ve melted at how caring he sounded if it were any other day, but all it really did was amplify your headache. Letting out a groan, you heard the mandalorian shuffle around your bunk. “Are you sick or something?” he asked, his voice closer this time.

“I think I’ve got food poisoning…or something” you knew you shouldn’t have trusted that dodgy cantina food, but then again you were starving and your eyes had always been bigger than your stomach. “I’ll get you something for your head.” You hadn’t even realized he had taken your temperature before he had gotten up and left again.

That was when you heard the little one. Turning on your side, your eyes met two endless orbs, also known as the child’s eyes. You guessed from the gesture he was making, reaching out to you, that he wanted to climb into bed with you. “No little one, you might get sick and we can’t have that now can we?” You grumbled into your pillow. Bile was rising up your throat, you didn’t want to scare the child with how sick you were.

Hearing Mando’s boots thud heavily along the floor, you felt his presence next to you before slowly opening your eyes. If light could be make noise it would’ve been so loud, your eyes were begging to close again. “Ugh.” You grunted, lifting the quilt over your head. “Hey, that’s not gonna help. C’mon let me put this on your forehead.” His voice dripped into your ear like honey. It was a small comfort as you pulled back the quilt, this time with your eyes screwed shut.

“You got a headache?” The mandalorian asked, his fingers skimming over your hairline as he placed a damp rag on your brow, you hadn’t even realized you had a fever. “Yeah, plus everything is too bright and I think I might throw up again.” You mumbled, scared that the slightest movement might make you projectile vomit. You were too ill to even be embarrassed at the state you were in in front of Mando.

You two had been getting closer over the last couple of months, but you didn’t think anything was going to happen, besides you were just a mechanic. You didn’t think of yourself as special enough to be the significant other of a mandalorian. Sure, you occasionally took care of the kid whilst Mando was on a hunt, but you did that to keep him safe and you loved the little one more than life itself. You wouldn’t admit it to the tin man but he had become like a son to you.

You’d like to think that the little one and Mando had become your family. You’d been alone for so many years before the bounty hunter had come across you in that dingy workshop, your boss wasn’t good to you, not paying you the amount you deserved and Din saw how talented you were, repairing gadgets and weaponry like it was nothing. So when he offered you a job aboard the razor crest? Next time your boss looked over to your spot, you were already long gone.

Fast forward to about a year later and you were now a clan of three, a mandalorian, a womp rat with mysterious powers and a mechanic with supposed food poisoning. At least your boys were keeping you company, but you were still scared of getting the kid sick. “Mando, maybe you should put the little one in his crib for the day, I don’t want to make things worse by getting him sick.” You grumbled, hoping he understood what you were trying to say. “I’ll try but I think he knows you’re not feeling so good, he hasn’t left your side since he locked eyes on you this morning.” You smiled at the tone in his voice, although every part of your body was screaming pain at you right now, it felt nice to be looked after by your little family.

“This might be a weird suggestion but do you think he might be able to heal me? I’d prefer to be helpful today rather than a burden. I want to be able to carry my own weight around here.” You tried to bargain with the metal man. “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea, firstly we don’t know what might happen with kid and secondly we don’t even know what you have.” He sighed, placing the child in his lap, comforting him by rubbing his ears softly. “True. Are you saying that I look that bad though?” You attempted to joke. “What? No-that’s not what I’m saying, you look great today-I mean you look great everyday-amazing, beautiful even, ah kriff.” He swore under his breath as you let out a rattily laugh. “Thanks for the compliments Mando…are you sure I’m not keeping you from more important stuff?” you asked with a more serious tone this time.

“You’re the most important thing right now, you’re my mechanic, we need you up and about at some point.” Mando saying this to you made you want to start crying, you were important to him and the kid. “I’ll do my best to get better for you guys.” You smiled weakly at the two, the kid reached out to you once again, Mando’s helmet tilting downwards to get a better look at him. “I think he just wants to keep you company y’know?” you could hear a slight chuckle through the modulator. “Oh, come on then you little green thing.” You giggled.

The child curled up on your chest, falling straight to sleep and making your heart melt. Din wouldn’t admit it but seeing his child so close to you made him jealous, but it also made his heart warm at the sight. He hoped maybe one day you would curl up into his arms like that. He wanted to be that close to you.

“ACHOO!”

Maybe just not right now.

[zeldasayer]

Loving Din XI - Afterlife

Pairing: Mandalorian/Din Djarin x Reader

Summary: Your relationship with Din is hanging on by a thread but you can’t let this exquisite love just go to waste.

Warnings: ANGST. Language, confessions of hopelessness, mom & dad please don’t fight.

gif by @djjarindin

“After this, can it last another night? After all the bad advice that had nothing at all to do with life, I’ve gotta know -

Can we work it out?”

“How long has it been?”

“Since?” You ask the hologram of your therapist, Nora, in the living room, as you sit cross legged on the couch in a red sundress. You know what she’s asking but you need to hear her to say it. In case it hasn’t been true.

“Since Din moved out.” She clarifies.

“Just over five months.” You nod slowly, looking down to focus on your fidgeting fingers.

“Do you miss him?” The hologram asks.

“Only when I’m awake.” You smile meekly, your eyes still down. “Or when I’m asleep. Or eating. Or playing with Baby in the ocean.”

“Have you told him this?” She asks slowly.

“No.” You answer flatly.

“Why not?”

“I guess,” You sigh, finally looking up. “It ended so badly. I guess I’m scared he won’t feel the same.”

“Do you believe that to be true?”

“No, but I also never believed we’d be a part at all.”

“Obviously I cannot get into any details of our sessions, but Din is making the same progress as you and Baby.” Nora was your father’s trusted therapist and he was so graciously arranging for you and Din to see her separately and teaching Din tools in how to help Baby trust him again.

You smile, meaning it whole heartedly, and you look back down from the truth of your words. “I’m so glad. Even if we don’t work out, I’m happy he’s finally opening up to someone. He deserves the weight of his past lifted from him”

It got worse before it got better.

Your emptiness melted into rage as you realized you were truly alone. The man who you stood by and filled with hope while he found his place in the galaxy was nowhere to be found now that you’ve lost your way in it. Gone was the man who so softly declared you as the most exquisite woman to ever walk the planet, the most beautiful moon he’s ever known, who found strength in your decision to be delicate despite everything that happened to you and you hadn’t the slightest clue where he went. Din went quiet again. He became calculated, like he thought through every word he said before he said it, every movement before it was made - not to protect you but because he was tired of fighting. Like you, he retreated inward and only came out to help with Baby despite his frustrations. You were two children of existing, not living and you somehow wound up back there again.

You hoped every day that Din would see himself in you, that he’d realize this is what you had to do with him at the beginning, but the moment never came. You would’ve died to help Din find his identity beyond the mask, and now he sleeps with his back to you.

Some nights you wanted to reach out and touch him, trace your fingers along his back, just for the reminder that he is real. Maybe he’d wake and pull you close to him so you could trace your fingers along his chest and match your breathing to his and everything would feel like it used to. But something always held you back.

Din Djarin wasn’t a man who could handle losing control. What made it twice as hard was that he brought it on himself, and in the process crushed the one precious flower he swore he’d never hurt. How could he? The one human being who knew everything about him and didn’t even blink at what he was ashamed of. Who ran her fingers through his hair and told him she would keep him safe when he thought he’d be haunted for the rest of his life.

“We can only haunt ourselves.” You cooed to him before kissing his nose and he carried that sentiment with him everywhere. He believed it until now, for he cannot get the look in your eyes when you told him you were ready to become the ocean out of his mind. It’s burned into his brain and he knows he’s being haunted because he can’t make himself speak.

Din Djarin was the most feared bounty hunter in the galaxy but he is too weak to tell the absolute love of his life that he is just as scared as her. That he is haunted every waking moment by how he destroyed their sanctuary, altering their lives forever. He wants to tell you that he sees you and that he’s sorry, that he wants to take the pain away and if he could, he’d feel it for you, but he doesn’t know how. Every familiar feeling of being touch starved, alone in the galaxy returns to him at once and he indulges in them in silence. Din never knew what he did to deserve you and just like he feared, it imploded. You were too good, too beautiful, delicate, loving, patient, ethereal and he ruined you with his dirty hands.

Most nights Din would sit up in the cockpit of the Razor Crest before returning to the bungalow so mad because you lied. We are haunted by more than just ourselves, we are haunted by the memories of the ones we love the most. Din smashed his fist into the dashboard. Once. Twice. Until something sparked because the memories won’t stop playing over in his head. You, smiling in his lap shortly after you met, pressing every button in the ship that would light up. Him snorting with laughter as he pulled you against him.

“You’re just like the kid!” He said into your neck and you giggled holding onto his arms.

“Teach me how to fly this thing, rocket man.” You beamed.

Your faces were younger then but you loved each other with such an unspeakable passion that you believed even then that it could never die. So how could he ever forgive himself for turning that dreamy look in your eye to stone? The same look that made him less afraid and so achingly happy to be alive. Especially when he has resorted to silence in a feeble effort to not make everything worse, for he sees himself in you. And all he wants to do is hold you by the shoulders and say “You are so much like me, I’m sorry.” But that wouldn’t help anyone.

One evening when Din hadn’t return from his classes on time, you left Baby with a bowl of soup on the couch and snuck into your bedroom. Your heart raced as you sat on the ground, connecting the comm to your father.

“Hi d-ad.” Your voice cracked when you saw him.

“What’s wrong, my star?” He noticed right away.

“I don’t feel so good.” You said through ragged breath, bringing your hand to your eyes.

“Are you sick?”

“A little.” You said with a sniff, removing your hand and looking down. “I have all this pain. It’s crushing me, dad.”

Stark sits up and his eyes search you in worry, “Are you safe, my star?”

“Yes, dad. I’m safe.”

“Are you dreaming of the ocean again?”

“Yeah.” You said as tears stream down your face, as it can be so hard to be seen. “I feel like I’m suffocating. Like I’m not going to make it.”

“Where is Din?” he asked.

“Um.” Your lip trembles and now it feels like you may really be dying, “I don’t know if we’re going to make it either.”

Stark sighs. “I’m sorry, Y/N.”

You shrug. “I don’t know who he is anymore. But I guess I don’t know who I am either. It’s like I miss him, but he’s always right there, like he’s part of what’s hurting me.”

Your father nods. “What can I do to help?”

“Do you still have Nora’s information?”

“Yes.”

“Well,” you sniff, wiping your hand down your face. “Nothing is ever going to change if I keep running in circles, right?”

You look down as your eyes immediately well with tears again.

“I’m proud of you, my star. I promise, this is the hardest part. You can only go up from here.”

You nodded, starting to cry again.

“Madden & I shall leave at once. We will help you with Baby and I’ll set up a meeting between you and Nora. You are the brightest star in the sky and you will shine again, my child.”

“Thanks dad.” You cried. “Just not yet, okay? I haven’t even told Din yet.”

“Told him what?” He asked.

“That I need to do this on my own.”

Din did not take it lightly.

“What the hell does that mean?” He demanded and your attention turned to Baby who’s ears rose at his fathers angered voice.

“He’s going to throw you across the room again.” You said through your teeth.

“Right. Of course.” Din said, rubbing his eyes. “Should we go outside?”

“Fine.” You sighed. Din always took you outside when he was ready to fight. Baby couldn’t hear you over the crashing waves.

You followed him out the back door and he turns around as soon as it closed with you both on the other side, “You know this is so typical you.”

“What?” Your eyes widened.

“You’re always so fucking lonely yet you push everyone away.”

You laughed, “Oh that’s so rich coming from you, Din.”

“Is it?!” He nodded.

“Mr. I Don’t Need Anyone Until I’m About To Lose Fucking! Everything!” You seethed as your voice already felt hoarse.

“OH!” Din exclaims, “I’m going to lose everything huh?”

“If you don’t let me take care of myself, yes. LOOK AT ME.” You cry. “I’M A FUCKING GHOST. AND SO ARE YOU.”

“AT LEAST I WONT FUCKING WALK OUT ON YOU.”

“I’m not walking out on you!” You screeched, in a tone of your own voice you didn’t recognize. “What are you not understanding? Din, my head feels like it’s going to explode and you won’t help me so I need to do this myself.”

“Sorry I can’t help, we do have a son to raise.”

“What the fuck? Who are you?” You asked in disgust as you crossed your arms and walked past him.

You walked only a few steps until you decided to say exactly how you felt.

“Do you know what you were like when I found you?” You spat.

“I found you.” Din said lowly.

“It doesn’t matter. Loving you was like loving a brick wall. It was so hard, Din. But I did it. I helped you raise your son and I held your hand while you figured out who the hell you were. And I did it all without you telling me what you needed, and I figured it out because I loved you. I would have done anything for you. Now I’m standing here screaming to you what I need and you won’t fucking help me.”

“What do you want from me?!” Din asked, his arms out in defeat.

“Have you been listening to me?! Get out of my face and get out of my fucking house!” You screamed.

“Your house?!”

“You are not doing this shit with me right now. You have a ship and I make more credits on one goddamn painting than you do in months.” You scoffed.

“You haven’t painted anything good enough to sell in half a year!”

“Because you’re killing me, Din!” You cried back immediately. Slapping your hand across your mouth from the truth of the words you let escape. Your other hand comes up to cradle the first and they’re both shaking.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered. “This isn’t us.”

Din shakes his head slowly.

“Please Din, If you love me, you’ll let me do this.”

It was hard at first. Din and you agreed to four days at a time with Baby, Din living in Razor Crest on the other side of town. The first night you spent alone, you slept on the floor of Baby’s room. It was as far as you could crawl to when you told Din to “Just leave, he’s not going to stop.” and closed the door on him and your son who was crying for you.

It hurt to wake up to the quiet, to eat alone, paint alone. Your first session with Nora was even more of a disaster and you started to wonder if you made the right decision. The only thing you took away from it was her saying, “It hurts to become.” And this is what you chose to believe in, that this pain and uncertainty would be worth it. That when the rain washed you and Din clean, you’d know.

It hurt when Din wouldnt even look at you, how he didn’t even say a word when he first dropped off Baby. How you slid down the door and cried with Baby in your arms as he tried to heal something that he couldn’t.

But time keeps passing wether you’re ready or not and one day you just stop hurting. You don’t know why, or when the exact moment hits until you look up and you realize you’re breathing. You’re breathing and you’re sleeping through the night and it’s something to celebrate like a new born baby. You’re breathing and sleeping and eating properly. You can taste everything, your tea and pomegranates. Dark chocolate and crusty sourdough bread. You open up to Nora, finally and she takes you all the way back to your childhood. You’ve made your first friends as an adult and you realize how important that is, other women who live close by on the island and they are so wonderful. You’re painting, you’re painting incredible work and you’ve rearranged the whole house so it’s yours. Baby sleeps on his own and he’s happy, you’re in a routine and when Din comes to pick him up it doesn’t destroy you. Suddenly, you have a new normal. You are truly alright and you are so proud of yourself but something is missing. You still want to share every moment of your new normal with Din. Though you can get lost in your mind and it can scream so loud, there is stillness inside of you, every sunset you’ve ever seen and you were born to be a lover, and there is still only one person for you.

Later in the afternoon, long after your session with Nora, when you open the door for Din who’s back again to drop Baby off, you notice instantly that he has a beard. It’s patchy and it makes you smile, it looks soft and it’s greying at the sides and it makes you want to blurt out that you miss him. But you ask Baby how his day was instead.

“Wanna show mom what you learned?” Din asks his little green boy as he puts him in your arms, “Okay.”

Din makes a few small movements with his hands, and Baby copies them, slower and loose before looking up at you with a smile.

“It means ‘I love you.’” He mumbles, looking down.

You blink up at him and it feels like you must have forgotten how to breathe. It’s been so long since you heard those words pass through Din’s lips and it feels like the very first time.

“Do you want to come in?” You ask, your voice almost a whisper.

He looks a little puzzled and you continue, “I made dinner.”

Din’s mouth presses into a line, like he’s trying to suppress a smile. “Yeah. I would.”

“I like this.” You say, brushing the back of your finger along his jaw, letting him pass through the doorway, “You’re greying.”

“You just noticed now?”

“Yeah.” You sigh, “I guess so.”

Din sits across from you at the table you dragged out on to the beach a few months earlier and it feels like just how you always wanted life on the island to be. Baby in your lap, cackling into his dinner as the ocean crashes softly into the shore. Din smiling between bites of food and the sun reflecting off his skin makes him look so beautiful. You feel the breeze against your face and you want to live in this moment forever. Passing Baby between the two of you to take turns feeding him, the comfort in realizing you are both still exactly the same yet lighter. It’s like the afterlife between the bad and the inevitable try for resolution when you can just be alright. When everything is finally still and there is sweetness in the familiar small talk and how Din wears his t-shirt and thick black framed eyeglasses, the soft curls of his hair, and the exquisite angle of his nose. It’s like he’s coming back into focus again for the first time in months and you look down from how it overwhelms you.

As always, Baby falls asleep in Din’s lap before you’re finished and when you return to the beach from putting him to bed, Din tells you he should probably get going. He stands and your heart stops.

“Are you going because you want to or because you think you have to?”

“I don’t want to.” He shakes his head.

“Then don’t go.” You say out of breath.

Din sits back down without breaking his eye contact with you and you follow suit. You search his face for a moment unable to hold back.

“Din, I’m sorry.”

“No.” Din shakes his head but you continue.

“We were obviously never destined to be ordinary people and though I truly feel that this time a part was necessary, it just made me realize I don’t want to have these extraordinary problems with anyone else.”

“Please don’t be sorry.” Din shakes his head, closing his eyes. “I said I would be the ground beneath your feet and I wasn’t there for you.”

You smile meekly, “I miss you, Din. It’s always going to be you.”

“I miss you too.” He pauses. “I feel like I’ve learnt so much lately, and I have something to say to you. Is that okay?”

“Of course.” You breathe.

“Okay.” He nods. “I spent my whole life thinking that I was doing all that I could, that I’d never love my own face let alone love someone else. Then I met you and you brought me to life. You brought me to life, Y/N. I had seen the whole galaxy but now I was finally living in it because I was seeing it through your eyes. It was like I had everything. But I got too selfish with you. I thought since you were my home I could take you anywhere and we’d be okay, forgetting that your home is consistency and trust.”

“It’s okay, Din.” You sigh.

“No it’s not.” He shakes his head. “All you ever did was love me exactly how I needed it, like you just knew. And I ruined our home because all I needed was you.”

You look down, at a loss for words.

“You shouldn’t be sorry because I should be begging for your forgiveness. You loved me despite everything and I was too ashamed to say I was so scared of what I had done. I can’t lose you, Y/N. The sun does not rise and set for you because you are the sun. You are the sun. You are the moon. You are every star in the sky. You are everything. Please forgive me for what I’ve done.”

You look up at him, through the blurry vision of tear-filled eyes. “I forgive you, Din.”

“Thank you.” He chokes into the top of your hand, as he’s taken it to press his lips against. “Thank you, my sweet girl.”

You smile through your tears and you come around to his side of the table and Din pulls you into his lap.

“I love you so much.” He says into your neck as he holds you against him tightly, adjusting his arms to get you closer.

“I love you, too.” You run your hand through his hair, like you’ve wanted to for so long and Din lifts his face with your touch.

You see him. The face that looked so familiar even when you first saw it. The skin so breathtaking it makes you cry. The mouth you could watch speak into eternity with a voice that can move mountains. The nose that looks like it was carved from marble by an angel’s delicate hands. And the eyes. The eyes so full of love and loss they could stop any war, so deep and dark you could swim in them forever.

You hold his face in your hands and you are so full of joy because you can finally see him.

“There you are.” You whisper before pressing your lips to his, melting in the familiarity of his moustache brushing your skin.

Tags: @otherthingsinhead @aeryntheofficial @maryan028 @readsalot73 @osric-the-l3m0n-l0v3-demon @capsironunderoos @antclottz @intense-sneezing @igotmadskills @applesislife @marrvelle-fics @killtherandomness @holyground1996 @taoiichii @kyoko-yuuki @bookwormmarvel @xplrreylo @the-resident-demon @sad-anxious-girl @jaegers-and-kaijus @drinkfantasy @forbidden-darkness @hyveee @fangirlfreakingout @petalduck @fahhhhq @thatonebishsstuff @midnightsinger @jenniferdaniels12 @hiscyarika @tryn25 @raveviolet @watsonwise @aproperthottie @lettonystarkbehappydamnit @hyunjins-wife @lilwickedred @yellowbubblewrap @pascalisthepunkest @kate013 @french-lace-lavender

It’s all fluff and beauty from here on out. 4 more parts to go.

Love, Zelda

[morganas-pendragons]

It’s A Long Way Down | D.D.

gif by @bestintheparsec

I was never planning on posting something on Tumblr during No Content November, but this idea has been stuck in my head since I saw Mando 2x03 and on top of that, people kept tweeting ideas on Twitter and now this thing is born... be gentle. I’ve been hesitant to write for him since I started the show last year. I played a little bit with what we know of Din’s past for the sake of this plot. 

Without further ado, hurt/comfort galore! 2x03 spoilers!

Please let me know what you think!

tag: @earthtokace​ / @dindjarindiaries​ / @kyber-queen​ 

*** 

  “What’s the last thing you remember?” 

  “Drowning.” He replies, soft and quiet as he processes the last three days in the midst of the silence. “Almost drowning.. and thinking about how you’d cope when I was gone.” 

If I was gone. 

Maybe the world would be better off. That’s what Din thinks. That thought lingers for a split second in his mind until he sees the desperation in your aspect and how you need him to understand that this world is a better place with him in it. 

The Watch didn’t allow him attachments. They didn’t allow him to feel. He was a warrior. 

He was a warrior, and the entrance of you and The Child made his hardened heart soft. 

Din has never liked the water.

When he’d been taken in by the Mandalorians and had sworn his Creed, the one thing they had drilled into his mind for his entire childhood was that he was a warrior. Warriors knew how to fight, how to survive, how to endure. 

A Warrior who did not dare show his face. This was The Way, and the way kept him safe. 

The one thing he could never quite master as a Foundling was enduring the water. To stop the way his lungs seized, how panic overtook him, how he just stopped. 

Din didn’t like the water, and Din had never really learned how to breathe.

Then he’d met you. You - the one person he could admit to loving, to admiring from a distance because he has his Creed and you have some kind of Code you live by - and your devotion to both him and The Child has slowly eased the ache in his chest, cracked open his ribs, and taught him a different way of breathing. 

Slow, steady, easy. He’s never known life to be that way. 

***

There is no Light without the Dark. 

Through passion, I gain focus. 

You had run across Mando just after the end of the Empire. You’d seen that Death Star explode with your very own eyes and had declared that your final mission with The Rebellion, in which you bid a tearful farewell to Luke and Leia and made your way into the galaxy. 

A vast galaxy.. alone. 

You and Luke had very differing views on the Jedi Order as a whole and in that difference, you’d taken two different paths. You had followed the Code of the Grey Jedi, and Luke had taken to the Jedi Code. 

That Code had carried you through alot of darkness. 

Through knowledge, I gain power 

Through serenity, I gain strength 

The Clone War had introduced you to the concept of Mandalorians. You’d never really had the pleasure to meet one as you’d always been on different fronts a distance from the Dream Team, but you knew of them. You knew they carried a Creed the same way you did. 

What you didn’t expect was the extent in which The Mandalorian did. The two of you had met in a cantina only days after he’d taken on The Child, and his claim for knowing where to find you on Sorgan was whispers of a rogue Jedi who’d left the Rebellion to seek peace.

Peace was what you found, contrary to popular belief. Compared to being a part of the Jedi Order, being with The Mandalorian was the most peaceful thing you’d done in over a decade. 

Through victory, I gain harmony

You’d been raised around Yoda, so you were familiar with the species, but past that.. You were as clueless as Din was. 

You stowed your lightsabers away and that part of your life with it. You left behind the title of Jedi and put all of your efforts into taking care of The Child. Into taking care of Din. 

That was easier said then done. 

There is only The Force. 

*** 

I wasn’t supposed to fall in love. 

That’s all he is thinking as he stands examining the vast waters of the ocean the two of you sail on with the Quarren crew. Your fingers are curled in the direction of The Child’s pram, and he’s giggling as he tries to maintain control of his body while you spin him. 

It’s the first time he’s seen you smile in weeks. It’s always small ones too. He looks forward to the first time he’s granted the opportunity to see a real smile. 

It had taken you a while to open up to him about your time with the Jedi. You’d barely been a padawan when The Order’s genocide had been in effect, and the greater majority of your life had been lived in fear. Your Code and your Lightsaber were your only guide until Leia had found you and recruited you into The Rebellion. 

All your life you’d been looking for a purpose, and she’d given you one. 

Being here with The Child - caring for him, teaching him, had given you a new purpose - and being with The Mandalorian had taught you a newfound sense of compassion for people raised as he had been. 

Your compassion and heart had won him out in the end. He’d admitted to being in love with you months ago, but he had yet to vocalize it. He would. He will. 

It happens so fast. One minute the two of you are smiling - even though you cannot see his own - about The Child’s reaction to the Mamacore, and the next minute you’re roaring with rage as his pram is shoved into the center of the cage and he’s forced to retreat inside for fear of being killed. 

He’s a child. A child who’s been too involved in death, in seeing death, in flirting with death.. and Din has had enough of it. 

Din Djarin doesn’t like the water. He doesn’t like how it weighs him down, how it threatens to suffocate him, to fill his lungs with something cruel and cold that replaces the warm fire that floods his veins that has been placed there by you. 

  “You’re-You’re a Jedi?” 

  “Push him down! Harder!” 

His world is illuminated in a flurry of blue light as the Quarren’s keep pushing him down under, down down down and his first thought is ner jeti.. i’m sorry. He’s sorry that he’s again put you in this position where you’ve had to reveal yourself, reveal who you are, and all to protect him and The Child. 

Failure. 

He’s a failure. 

Between you and the trio of Mandalorians that arrive shortly after, the Quarren’s are dealt with in a matter of moments and then he’s being lifted - his lungs are reactivating, are expanding and contracting to remind him that he is alive - and he collapses in the midst of wheezing his concern for the child. 

  “The Child! Help-Help The Child!” 

The Mandalorian on the left dives into the water to rescue The Child from the creature. You turn your attention away from the bodies and sheath your sabers  before kneeling in front of Din to assess him. 

  “The Child-” He rasps, because his thoughts are never on himself, only you and The Child. His life doesn’t matter if it means the two of you are safe. “Jeti, ner ad-” 

Jedi, my son. 

Your gentle hand on his knee is enough to capture his thoughts. Your way of evaluating Din’s state has never been through the physical sense, but the mental. He doesn’t know how to shield because The Jedi was a foreign concept to him until he met you, and he’s always been receptive to your gentle nature. You don’t need to talk. You never have. 

You look. 

His mind is a flurry of panic and fear as you gently soothe it into a peace that makes his whole body go lax as Koska breaks the pram shell in half and gently scoops out the baby. “Here you go, Brother.” Koska murmurs, watching from beneath her helmet as you stand to your feet and allow Din to reunite with The Child he claims not to have an attachment to. 

Yeah... okay. 

Din and Bo-Katan converse - in which he is given an inexplicable truth about himself that he's not quite sure how to process - and he shuts down the idea of them even being real Mandalorians because their way is not his way. It’s a whole new reality he’s never had to face before. 

  “You are a Child of The Watch.” 

And as you stand there, you take in the distress in which the man you love - and have yet to tell - is trying so desperately to hide. 

***

His panic bursts through the surface when you unsheathe your sabers in the hall that connects and run right into the line of fire, deflecting blaster bolts left and right so Din can run right past you and blow the door to the bridge right open. 

The fight about it comes later, long after the two of you have returned to The Crest for the coordinates to Coravus where Ahsoka Tano is supposedly located. She is a Jedi - or was, once - and might be the only connection you have left to the person you used to be despite how young you had been at the time. 

Your first clue to his apparent agitation is the way he hasn’t unclenched his fists and has yet to look at you from where he sits in the cockpit. Your anger is growing steadily at his silence, which has never happened before.. not until you put your life into the line of fire. 

  “Say it.” Your voice echoes from behind the captain’s seat as you cross your arms over your chest. “Mando-please, stop giving me the kriffing silent treatment and just let me have it.” 

  “Ner jeti...” He stops short and stands to his feet, practically towering over you in a way that would intimidate most people. He has never once made you feel afraid... but he constantly makes you ache. With want, with pain, with desire. He makes you feel things you haven’t felt since before Order 66. “You cannot do that.” 

  “Do what?? Save your life? Mando, I’m-” 

  “Din.” Your rant is cut off halfway as he exhales lowly, a rumble through the modulator, and lifts a helmeted head to meet your gaze. “My name is Din Djarin. I thought it was time you know that.” 

Your entire body freezes. You have been a partner, an ally, since the day he’d found you on recruited you to help return The Child to his kind. You have been careful in ensuring that it’s strictly a professional relationship, you never had anticipated this- The intimacy that comes with divulging such a secret as his real name. 

  “Din?” You rasp, eyes glassy with tears as the air is knocked from your lungs. It rolls off your tongue easily. The sound of his name, his real name, is beautiful. “Wow. It’s... beautiful.” 

His response to your affirmation is like watching a galaxy of stars be born in front of your very eyes. He’s so receptive to it.. starved of it. 

  “I used to forget everything.” Din says. “The people who trained me.. they wanted me to be the best of our clan. There was so much we had to learn. Gun training, hand to hand, the significance of beskar and how important our Beskar’gam was to our safety. I was so good at it. I excelled.. but the one thing I could not shake? The water. 

They trained me in the water, jeti. They trained me in the water, to become part of the water... all I could think about was how much it suffocated me. I’m af-” He stops himself short because admitting to a fear is not something he was taught to do, it was bottle it up and compartmentalize in order to get the mission finished. “Afraid of the water because I can’t fight it like I do with a bounty. I can just..” 

  “Succumb. Sink. Let go.” You murmur. “And that’s not something you know how to do.” 

  “Yeah.” 

You’re oddly intrigued by the fact that this utterly fearless person, this man, was afraid. He’d always struck you as the opposite. 

  “What’s the last thing you remember?” You ask.  

  “Nearly drowning.” He replies. “And wondering how you and the ad would cope when I was gone. That’s why I need to tell you.” Din takes another step to close the gap that stands between you both. You’re practically trembling with anticipation. “Thinking about how...” 

Din stops. You rest a hand against the exposed skin of his neck and tilt your head as his mind thrums - resonates with the truth of his affection for you - and your lips part in wonder as you realize what he’s trying to tell you. 

  “Me too.” You whisper. “For a while.. probably since the start. Din, you are a good man. You’ve always been a good man, and I think it’s time that someone puts your needs before themselves instead of the other way around. Please.” Din is slightly taken aback at the pleading tone of your voice as you meet his gaze. “Please let someone take care of you.” 

That’s all you can muster before he’s collapsing at your feet. 

  ‘’Take it off.” He begs. 

  “No, no- Your Creed-” 

  “Sarad, I want to learn how to breathe again.” He interjects. “This is how I do that. It’s just a faster way of being able to be married to you for the rest of my life.” The man you love is kneeling at your feet and totally willing to abandon part of his livelihood because of you. “There’s nothing I’d want more. Go ahead. Take it off. Please.” 

Part of you had always been okay with the anonymity, but as this choice lays just within your fingertips, you find yourself desperate to look upon the face of the man who’d destroy entire galaxies for you and his son. 

The Beskar’gam hisses as you remove his helmet and find yourself staring into vulnerable onyx eyes that are wide enough to envelop whole star systems in their splendor. 

  “Din Djarin.” You whisper, smiling tearfully as trembling hands lift to cup a stubbled jaw. “What a beautiful face to put with an equally beautiful name.” 

He exhales his breath on a shuddered sigh and leans into your touch as you begin mapping his face with your fingertips. Din doesn’t dare move, too drunk on the feeling of touch ghosting across his skin in a intimate way that he’s not experienced since his parents left him in that cellar. His face grows warm at how needy he must seem, but you don’t seem bothered by it. 

In fact, the way his skin blooms red under your kiss makes your heart swell and your smile widen at the reaction it elicits. 

�� “You know Din, if you wanted me to kiss you.. all you had to do was ask.” You muse. You can read his mind and his body in the same way you read the feel of your lightsaber and the air of a room of hostiles. “Now I don’t know about you, but The Child is asleep and I find myself tired after having to deal with Bo-Katan all day.. can we go to bed?” 

  “Yes.” He nods once, then twice, allowing you to take his gloves off and lead him in the direction of the tiny cot that somehow manages to house you both. The Beskar’gam comes off one piece at a time until Din is now standing in his usual underclothes which you have not been able to grace yourself with the image of until now as he lays each piece on the floor. 

You’re laying flat on your back when he’s finished, arms extended towards the ceiling as you beckon him forward. Din realizes that as he stares at your willingness to be there for him in his most vulnerable moment that he may sleep tonight with no night terrors. 

No thoughts of drowning. 

  “Din Djarin, cyare..” You coo, beaming as he crawls into the bed and allows himself to curl into your body and rest his head on your chest. “I think you should hear it now.” Gentle fingers card through dark curls as he focuses on his breathing - in and out in and out - and listens to the sound of your voice to lull himself to sleep. “I love you.” 

He hums thoughtfully and burrows himself deeper into your neck, smiling against the curve of your neck as you lightly graze his temple with your lips. Before Din can properly fall asleep, he rolls himself on top of you and settles himself comfortably against your body. It’s not too heavy, just enough to envelop you in the warmth he radiates. 

He’s safe.

You wrap your arms and legs around his form and nuzzle his temple. 

Darkness falls upon both of you as Din whispers, “Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum.” before promptly falling asleep in your capable hands. He’s safe. 

Tonight.. he’s not drowning. 

Tonight, he breathes.