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okdeedee · 1 year

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lay down your head

a very small din djarin x gn! reader sickfic . reader,,, works with mando? is hired by him? live-in employee. idk. the razor crest still exists. handwavey in terms of chronology.

an: because i have a shitty cold / fever / idk right now. so i daydream about how din djarin would take care of someone. me. us. whatever.

warnings: fluff. the mortifying ideal of being vulnerable with your colleagues/friends/crushes. no use of pronouns other than "you/your" and no y/n.

feat. trying to debunk the theory that being in the rain/being in somewhat cold weather will make you sick, one fic at a time. (hypothermia is real, catching a cold/the flu from being in the cold is not.)

wc: 1.3k words of 11pm feverish delirium.

It starts as a funny feeling behind your nose. As the day goes on, it spreads down to the back of your throat. Then there's the melancholy dawn of a dull headache and your joints start to hurt more than they usually do.

You're helping Mando carry a bounty back to the Crest at around three in the morning, Coruscant time, and suddenly it's ridiculously difficult.

The bounty is a fairly waiflike Twi'lek, so you're not sure why you're struggling. He could carry her on his own, sure, but you've watched him move enough that you can tell he's got back problems, so you try to help him carry heavy or awkwardly shaped things.

This Twi'lek in her hoop-skirted Opera-Concert-Goer finery definitely counts as the latter.

You watch him a lot.

The way he moves, how he interacts with his child, his prowess in combat. His proficiency with weapons gets you hot under the collar, sometimes.

But he's gruff and quite reserved, and you've taught yourself not to expect anything from this arrangement the two of you have. You haven't touched him before - not even to shake his hand.

When you trip over your own feet and the bounty goes lurching toward the floor, the Mandalorian pauses and glances at you with what you think might be annoyance.

But you can't see his face, obviously, and you sort of can't see full-stop in this dark alley, so it's anyone's guess.

By the time you get back to the Crest, your eyes burn with the effort of keeping them open. You don't want to be a liability, so you keep your head straight and you don't show any sign of weakness.

Once the bounty is frozen in carbonite, Mando climbs up the ladder, Grogu gurgling happily in his satchel. He doesn't seem to have noticed anything's really wrong with you, which is a relief. As soon as his boots disappear into the cockpit, you slump down to the floor.

Mando doesn't need a co-pilot - you're often down here during take-off anyway, tidying or putting your weapons away.

You value your alone time as much as he does, which is nice. He never pries when you need some time away from him and his little green kid.

You ache all over and you're shivering, but at least he can't see you. You're so tired that you fall asleep with your head resting against the weapon cupboard's door.

After he gets the Crest out of Coruscant's atmosphere and into hyperspace, Din lets Grogu play with a very small selection of the control panel that will not have drastic effects on the ship.

It takes a while, but the child's movements grow lethargic, and soon enough, he's asleep in Din's arms.

Din places him gently into his mobile cot so as to not wake him by taking him down the ladder, and realises he hasn't heard you move in over an hour.

Which is somewhat alarming - you take turns in the cot in the hull, and since Din can sleep in the pilot's chair, he figured you'd sleep there.

But he never heard the cot door depressurize and slam open, nor did he hear you pottering around like he usually does.

So he makes his way down the ladder, and he's bewildered by what he sees.

You're slumped on the ground, neck bent at an uncomfortable angle against the cupboard. You're breathing through your mouth a little raggedly, so fast you're almost panting, and there is a trickle of mucus coming out of your nose. Your hands twitch where they're draped across your torso, and your skin looks dull.

His heartrate skyrockets - he's a seasoned warrior and you're just his employee, so it probably shouldn't - and he moves over to you instantly.

Before he can think, he turns on the thermal view on his helmet, and sees that your head is hotter than the human head usually appears. So is your whole body.

He flicks it back to normal as he crouches next to you.

"Hey, wake up," he mutters.

He reaches out a hand to touch your shoulder, but he stops. He hasn't touched you before. Not intentionally. He wonders if you'd mind.

He thinks about it more and more each day.

Touching you.

Holding your hand, standing shoulder to shoulder, stroking your face.

Pressing your foreheads together in the way of his people, even if it's through his helmet.

But this is to make sure you're okay; it's different, so he reaches out and gently shakes you by one shoulder.

"Hey, you need to wake up," he murmurs.

You grunt, and your voice sounds like the rumble of footsteps over gravel.

"Can you open your eyes for me?"

Your eyelashes are a little crusted together, but you manage to open them. Your stare is vacant.

Din starts to panic.

"Did someone poison you? Did you eat something bad? Are you alright?"

You give him a sleepy chuckle, and your eyes close again, which is not helpful.

"Hey." He says with the sort of no-nonsense tone he uses with the child.

You blink. "What?"

"Did you get poisoned? Or spiked?"

"'M fine, Mando."

"You're not."

You huff, which sets you into a fit of coughing.

"What's wrong?" He asks.

You look at him with those bright, bloodshot eyes. You sniff and blink a few more times, blearily. It's silly, because he's really worried there's something wrong with you, but the open, sleepy expression on your face fills him with affection.

"Sweetheart, please."

You smile just barely. "Really, 'm fine. Just'a cold," you mumble.

"How would you have gotten a cold? The rain yesterday?" Din starts to spiral; he's supposed to protect you, whether he's ever expressed that to you or not, and now you're sick-

"Prob'ly that club a few days ago. Lots'a people. Confined space. No ventilation. Wonder why you didn't get sick."

"My helmet filters out most toxins and germs." He says.

You reach out and fiddle with the edge of one of the pouches strapped around his calf. "Lucky boy," you say, grinning dazedly.

You look incredibly unwell, but you're touching him, joking around with him. His heart pounds.

Then you groan and put your hand to your head, and he's whirled into action again.

The next half hour is hard to remember in full detail. You're so tired.

These are the glimpses you're conscious enough for:

Mando lifts you up, even with his bad back, and sits you up properly. He gets painkillers from the 'fresher, which you try to refuse, but he practically force-feeds them to you. He gives you his water canteen and tells you to take twenty sips of it.

He holds a cloth to your nose and tells you to blow your nose into his hand, which is mortifying, but you're too dazed to do otherwise.

He uses a cold, damp cloth to wipe your face and neck down, which makes your skin erupt in goosebumps.

"Too cold," you grumble.

"Almost done, baby."

The heat that rushes through you at the sound of his gruff, modulated voice calling you 'baby' almost cures your chills for a second.

"Can I hold you?" the Mandalorian asks softly.

If you were awake, you'd freak out about this ridiculously attractive and emotionally distant man making an offer like that, but being held just sounds nice right now, so you whisper, "Yeah."

Next thing you know, the battle-hardened, ruthless Mandalorian bounty hunter is sitting behind you, one arm around your torso, the other stroking your forehead.

You're in between his legs, your back against his chest.

This is not how you thought your recovery from illness would go.

You find you don't have any reason to complain.

His armour's a little cold, and it shocks you at first, but once your feverish body heat warms it up, it's soothing. He smells good - beskar doesn't have that tangy scent so many metals have; it's cleaner, earthier. He smells warm, inviting, human.

You like this Mandalorian. Quite a lot, as Mandalorians go. And just as a person in general.

He chuckles; a deep, comforting rumble that you feel in your back ribcage before you hear it.

"What're you laughin' at?" you mumble, burrowing the side of your head into his chest

Another shorter, breathy chuckle. "What you just said."

Oops. "Didn't mean t' say that. Out loud, I mean."

"I'll forget I heard it."

"No you won't. You remember everything."

The chin of his helmet rests gently against the crown of your head, and he takes a deep breath in.

"Sleep, cyare. I've got you."

#that's the end #get u a man like that #idk where this comes from #he's a good dad so i think he's just generally a good caretaker maybe #din djarin x reader #din djarin x gn reader #din djarin x gn! reader #din djarin x you #din djarin #din djarin x gn!reader

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fabricated-misslieness · 2 years

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pairing: Din Djarin x gn reader

req: no | wc: 939

summary: Din is curious about that ring you always seem to be wearing.

warnings: mention of death, lightly touched upon

a/n: Don't ask me why it's only been about rings with Din so far.

Din thinks, in these moments where you get to lay in bed without a worry in the world, that everything is right. He thinks, as he absentmindedly fiddles with your fingers, that nothing will trouble him. Nothing will trouble him, so long as you're here. You're safe here, in his arms; unarmored as they may be.

It wasn't morning, nor was it night, yet you laid in bed together. The midday sun of this planet did not allow safe travel during the afternoon. If he were to leave at this time, he would burn alive in his beskar, obstructive armor.

Although, the conditions did give him an excuse to relax. Your offer for an afternoon energy nap was agreed upon instantly.

"What is it with you and rings?" Din asks rather brashly. It was just a thought, one that came out of his lips in an impulsive tumble.

"What ever do you mean?" You reply, feigning offense.

"Sorry." He mutters, registering his previous tone. "Just… I was thinking about it—your ring. You used to wear it a lot before I met you, and you continued on until we officially started traveling together. After that, you suddenly stopped. Your hands were bare. And then, when we had our first kiss, you–"

"When we started dating." You correct.

"Yes. You started wearing it again. Only this time, differently." He continues, spinning the ring around your finger as he talks, "You wear it on your right hand. The first time, the heart was pointed towards the fingertips; the second time, towards the wrist."

Din was an observant man, you knew that. But to be this observant? Especially of you? It was a little flattering. He had noticed your ring even early on.

That posed a question. "How do you suppose I should wear it?"

"Hmm." The Mandalorian hums as he thinks. Then, almost gingerly, he slips the ring off your right hand's index finger and switches to your left hand. He splays the hand atop his own, and continues to debate himself internally.

"Struggling?"

"No." He says immediately.

As if you kickstarted him, he finally makes a decision. He pushes the ring down your left ring finger, with the heart's point toward the fingertips.

You grin rosily, which confuses him. "Did you just propose to me, Din Djarin?"

His head snaps down to you, his visor fixing in a way that you know he's staring into your eyes. "What?" He blurts out, a tinge of shock in his tone.

He was never one to share the knowledge that he was surprised; that information was valuable to morally gray bystanders.

You laugh, knowing that you'd set him up. A ring with a crown atop a heart (and hands holding them both) was most fitting on a ring finger.

Din huffs in return to your laugh, wanting to know exactly what was going on. Otherwise, he wouldn't know how to handle your accusation of proposal. The idea wasn't too far-fetched to begin with.

"This is a Claddagh ring, Din." You say, but he is still puzzled. "It has different meanings depending on which hand it is on and where the tip of the heart is pointing."

He nods, slowly, finally comprehending; so you continue. "The way I wore it before I met you–"

"Right hand pointed outward?" He recalls.

"Oh." So you liked him that early on. "Me too. I mean that—that I liked you too, then. I was interested."

"Precisely." You reply, "It means that I'm single and looking for a partner. So when I moved in with you, and took it off, it meant that… that I wasn't looking anymore."

His heart speeds up, and you can hear it, having your ear to his chest. "Mm," You hum and press a kiss to the back of his gloved hand. He hums too, pleased, despite it not being exposed skin. "that's good to know."

"Then, once we knew of our feelings for each other, and we started dating," You repeat the words that Din is somehow, still to this day, afraid to say sometimes. "I wore it on the right hand, pointing in. That meant I was in a relationship."

"And now on my left hand?" You prod.

Din answers, "Ring finger, heart pointed outwards. Engaged."

"Yes." You affirm, but you leave it at that. You glance up at him to find that he stares, now, at the ceiling. He's thinking. You can almost see the gears turning in his head through the helmet.

He doesn't speak for a while, still thinking. You're sure his perception of time in that brain storm of his isn't active, but if it was, he'd notice that it's been well over five minutes.

You give him that time, tracing your finger along his clothed arm, from his shoulder to his wrist. Then, when you run out of that, you move to his stomach and run circles along it. Din shudders in a way that lets you know he's still here, conscious.

"Then it's correct."

It had been a fifty-fifty. Fifty precent chance that he'd accept the idea, the idea of your engagement, and then another fifty that he'd rather stay comfortable in a relationship and not marriage. You had prepared yourself for both outcomes.

But, even so, you find yourself shocked. "Truly?" You ask breathlessly.

He stares down, you stare up. Then, he gives you the smallest yet most reassuring of nods.

With a grin, you prop yourself up on your elbows and lean down to his helmet. Din meets you half-way, pressing his forehead to yours.

"Will you marry me?" He finally asks.

"Yes."

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x gn reader #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian x gn reader #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x gn reader #🎟 // the mandalorian #🎫 // din djarin #🎫 // mando #🌸 // success!

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beskarandblasters · 6 months

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Uncut

Inexperienced!Din Djarin x GN!Reader

Main Masterlist | Din Djarin Masterlist

Author’s note: This is inspired by this beautiful art by @immarocketman!! My friend @theywhowriteandknowthings also wrote a drabble based on this art piece as well! Banners and dividers are by @saradika 🤍

Summary: You give Din his first blowjob and he’s insecure about a little secret he’s been keeping.

Word count: 950

Warnings: no physical description used for Reader (but they are able-bodied), porn with little plot, uncircumcised!Din, shy!Din, oral sex (M receiving), body worship, pet names (baby for Din, cyar’ika for you), cum eating, no use of y/n

You’re lying in the small cot of the Razor Crest pressed up against Din. He’s opted to be the little spoon tonight, one of your arms slung around his waist. He’s wearing his full armor, cape and all (but minus his weapons), and it has you thinking… How is he comfortable under all that? Not to mention it’s a warm night tonight.

“Baby?”

“Hm?” he hums in response.

“Aren’t you hot under there?”

“…A little.”

“We could sleep naked tonight.”

He’s silent for a moment as if he’s pondering his decision.

“Only if you’re comfortable,” you add.

“Okay,” he says with a shaky breath.

“You can take your helmet off, too. We’ve pretty much decided to take on a riduurok the next time we’re with the covert,” you say softly.

He nods and you remove your arm from his waist so he can get undressed. You’ve seen him helmetless only a handful of times since deciding to be his riduur. He rises from the cot and takes off his helmet, a worried look painting his face. Poor thing.

You sit up at the edge of the cot and watch him with concerned eyes. You’ve only been intimate with Din a few times, usually in the dark with all of his armor on. This is new territory for both of you. But there’s no doubt in your mind he’s beautiful.

He takes off his gloves and starts removing his armor piece by piece. Once he’s down to just his flight suit and his boots he stops, however.

“What is it, baby?”

“I have to tell you something.”

“Anything,” you reassure him, grabbing his hands.

“I’m… I’m uncut.”

“Okay.”

“That doesn’t bother you?”

“Why would it?”

“Well, I-”

“Has someone been… rude about it in the past?”

“Well, no. No one’s ever been… down there before.”

“You’ve never had your cock sucked before?”

“…No.”

“Undress and switch places with me.”

“Cyar’ika, you don’t have to.”

“I want to,” you reassure him.

He nods, unzips his flight suit, and kicks off his boots, all with the same uneasy look on his face. You stand so he can sit at the edge of the cot, sitting with a side stance and his thighs spread apart. This is the first time you’ve seen his cock in the light and it’s beautiful just like you thought it would be. It makes sense a Mandalorian would be uncut. What made him so nervous about telling you that?

You sink to the floor and rest on your knees, kissing along his groin, practically everywhere but his cock. Goosebumps prick his skin in the wake of your lips, followed by a shiver up his spine. His cock is growing harder as you work your way across his groin, the pre-cum gathering at the head of his cock.

One hand cups his balls while the other wraps around the base of his cock. You look at him and his eyes are fixed on you, still wearing the nervous expression on his face. How cute.

“Relax, baby,” you tell him, right before you slip your tongue in between his foreskin and the head of his cock. He grows even wetter and slicker when you do that, letting out a muffled Mando’a curse word as you swirl your tongue around slowly. His hands caress each side of your face, but so lightly as if he’s hesitant and wondering if that’s okay to do. You move the hand cupping his balls and rest it atop his hand, stroking his skin with your thumb to let him know it’s okay, all while maintaining eye contact.

He nods and closes his eyes as you pick up the pace, returning your hand back to his balls and cupping them lightly. Your tongue circles his head faster and faster until you finally take his length in your mouth, moving your head up and down. You feel his foreskin following the motions of your head inside your mouth against your tongue and cheeks. The feeling is too good. He lets out a mangled moan and he’s back to looking at you again, looking like an angel underneath him as you suck his cock. Soon enough, his entire cock and your hand are completely soaked in a mixture of your saliva and his pre-cum. The motions are smooth and you’re moving effortlessly, mouth and hand sliding up and down on his cock, bringing him closer to the edge. His balls tense up in your hand and his cock twitches against your tongue. He’s going to cum soon.

“Cyar’ika, I’m going to-”

You let out a long hum, letting him know it’s okay to cum and sending a vibration up his shaft. The floodgates open and his grip on your head tightens as he cums. His head is thrown back in pleasure, letting out a long string of moans and whimpers as he cuts down your throat. You swallow all of it, feeling proud that you gave him his first blowjob and made him feel this good.

Once you’ve swallowed all of his release you take him out of your mouth and rest back on your heels. He catches his breath and looks down at you, your saliva and his cum dripping down your chin.

“Kriff, I’m sorry,” he apologizes.

“You’re sorry?!” you say, rising from the floor and sitting beside him.

You kiss him, hard and passionate before pulling back and saying, “You should’ve let me do that a long time ago.”

“You mean that?”

“Of course, baby.”

His face contorts into a small, bashful smirk. You pull him into you, kissing his temple and whispering, “You’re beautiful.”

He melts into your touch. He normally doesn’t feel that way about himself but tonight, he believes you.

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#din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x gn!reader #din djarin x you #din djarin smut #star wars fanfiction #starwarsficnetwork #star wars smut #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedrostories #din djarin fanfiction

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devils-dares · 1 year

Text

Head to Bed

summary: nodding off on the razor crest

pairing: din djarin x gn!reader

wordcount: 438

warnings: none

a/n: my first din djarin fic! this was inevitable with @galaxysgal convincing me to watch the mandalorian and putting up with all of my shitty star wars questions.

comments and reblogs appreciated!

-----

Hyperspace was calming. It was quiet and calm and even flying through space without any pirates or looters was calm. You’d been sitting in the Razor Crest next to Din, who was currently flying the craft. You were beginning to nod off, catching yourself before your chin dropped too low.

Din was watching as you tried your best to fight the slumber, smiling under the mask as you snapped awake again. He waited a few more minutes until you actually fell asleep, leaning on the side wall, to wake you.

You felt a hand on your thigh, eyes opening to find the beskar helmet staring back at you.

“Head to bed,” he says, “I can fly for a while, take the kid.”

“I don’t want you to be here up alone, we’re about to go through open space.”

“Just for a little bit, I need to stop for fuel, and then we’ll be right back on our path.”

“Din-”

“I will be fine,” he presses, “look, the kid’s snoring in your arms, head to bed.” You look down to find him drooling on your shirt, ears drooped down in his slumber.

“Okay,” you give in, truly too tired to argue, “but you have to promise to wake me if you need some rest, or if you meet anyone giving you any issues.” He laughs.

“I know how scary you can get.”

“I’m serious.”

“By the time I’ll need rest I’ll be able to put it on autopilot.” He reasons. Your hands rests on his shoulder for a few seconds before you head down the ladder and climb into Mando’s bed, placing the kid on his hammock.

You can vaguely remember the ship landing on some fuel site, and Mando’s armored footsteps clunking across the ship floor. The takeoff wakes you again, but you settle quickly, falling asleep only seconds after waking.

A little while later, the panel to the bed slides opens. Squinting, you make out Mando’s silhouette, shedding piece after piece of beskar.

“Mando?”

“Shh.” The bed sinks on one side.

“D’ya need me to fly for a while?” You ask, voice rough and groggy from sleep.

“No, just stay facing that way.” You hear a few clicks, and then he presses himself up against your body in the tight space. You can feel his breath on your neck, realizing that he’d rid himself of his helmet. His hand snakes under your shirt, calloused fingers running over the much softer skin. His chest is pressed flush against your back, and you can feel his breathing even out slowly.

“Night, Mando.” You say, but he’s already fallen asleep.

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wwinterwitch · 1 year

Text

new vows – din djarin x gn!reader

summary: the first time din ever removed his helmet in front of you

pairing: din djarin x gn!reader (no pronouns used)

word count: 2.5k

warnings and tags: fluff and angst + good ending, insecure!din, established relationship, kissing, the helmet's removed, doesn't follow the plot of the show at all (it's just din, reader and grogu being a happy family)

author's note: oof i hate how this turned out but my best friend read it and told me to post it so here we are, i hope it doesn't suck as much as i think it does

a reblog and/or comment on my posts really help me out as a content creator so thank you in advance if you take the time to do either!

navigation | pedro's characters masterlist | star wars masterlist

Din was observing you and Grogu from the entrance of the Razor Crest, arms crossed across his chest as he leaned against one of the walls of the ship. He smiles to himself when he hears the child giggling after you put a flower at the top of his little head, immediately reaching out with some difficulty to grab a flower from the ground and offering it to you.

"Thank you, Grogu. It's very pretty!" you say to the baby, who looked absolutely thrilled to realize you liked his gift.

The kid stands from the ground, lifting both of his arms as a sign that he wants to be carried. Already familiar with the gesture, you quickly lift him up from the ground before laying on your back in the middle of the landscape filled with lilac and light pink flowers. The baby giggles again, holding onto you as you both lay there.

Din's smile fades just enough shortly after that when the inevitable thought pops in his head again. That annoying and sudden thought that always makes an appearance during the day.

At first he didn't mind, finding ways to always push it away before it got to him. However, it's been more and more frequent these past couple of days and it's becoming a bad habit he seems unable to control at this point, and it's starting to really annoy him.

His mind is filled with all these doubts and insecurities. Not only because of the content of what he's thinking, but because it's completely impossible to push it away now. Almost like an avalanche, it falls down the mountain at a rapid, devastating speed and it only seems to get bigger as minutes pass. It destroys everything in its way. In this case, the prime and only victim is Din.

Perhaps the worst part is that it always ruins what should be pleasant moments. If Grogu is looking up at him from the ground begging to be carried, the thought is there. Whenever you wrap your arms around him or grab his hand when the two of you are exploring yet a new planet, it's there. Even when he's trying to sleep right next to you, hearing the faint sounds of the baby already asleep, you can bet that thought will be there to torture him.

Because all of those little moments he shares with his partner and son remind him of the fact that neither of them even know who he is. Sure, they know how he is, but not who.

Every touch is not really a touch, it's just skin brushing against a uniform. Every exchange has a helmet hiding his features. They can hear him laugh, but they don't see his eyes squinting just enough and the smile that adorns his face. They can hear him remind them of his never-ending love for them, but they don't get to look into his eyes as he says it.

And it hurts because his mind has tricked him to believe none of those moments are real. Because they've never seen the man that claims to care for them so much, none of it is genuine. It's just touching a uniform and hearing empty words coming from a helmet. It almost makes him feel like a droid rather than a human, leaving him longing for that real connection.

He knows he probably shouldn't, but he craves that actual contact, which is something he never felt before you two showed up in his life.

Being a Mandalorian and living by their code was easy. He never even considered breaking his vow because nothing and no one was ever worth it. What could possibly be more important than this? That's what he would always ask himself and he wasn't able to come up with an answer– until you and Grogu showed up.

Now that you two are here, it's obvious to him that his priorities have changed. He wants to commit to an entirely new code. To prove his undying fidelity to his family and make a vow to the two of you.

But that brings another set of insecurities that make this entire situation a lot more difficult for him. As much as he needs to truly feel connected to you, he's terrified of what that connection means. It's obvious that in order to obtain that, he needs to take off his uniform. Most precisely, his helmet– which is something he has never done in front of anyone. Ever.

So that's when his mind is yet again filled with negative thoughts. What if you don't like what's under the helmet? What if you already have a picture of him in your head and he disappoints you because he looks nothing like it? What if you suddenly don't love him anymore because he's not what you expected at all? And what if Grogu rejects him too? He couldn't deal with either of you not liking what has been hiding underneath all the Beskar.

That's the complicated mess that's been haunting him for a few weeks. That inner struggle he has tried to keep hidden from the two of you. Should the helmet stay on despite being an obstacle to reach the depths of connection he needs to have with his family, or should he remove it and risk rejection? Is it better to settle or search for more?

He feels pathetic. The supposedly fearless bounty hunter is terrified of even thinking about taking a risk. Going on adventures used to be a lifestyle. Now, the mere idea of it is enough to fill his mind with self-doubt, making it almost impossible for him to make a decision.

He thought about it later that day when the three of you were already inside the Razor Crest and getting ready to go to bed, really considering his options and trying to create different outcomes to this hypothetical conversation that kept playing inside his head.

You were telling Grogu a bedtime story when Din joined the two of you. He sat on the bed and listened to you speak as he watched the baby, who was struggling to keep his eyes open at that point, holding onto the little blanket covering his body.

By the time the story was over, Grogu was already completely asleep. You carefully brushed his face with your pointer finger in an affectionate manner, smiling down at him before focusing on Din.

"Ready to go to bed?" you asked.

"You'll tell me a bedtime story too?"

The comment made you laugh. "I think you're a little old for bedtime stories."

"Ouch. I'm not old."

"I said a little old," you quickly correct, putting both of your hands on his shoulders. He quickly lifted a hand that was resting on your hip a few seconds later. "Not the same as just old."

You smile down at him as he gently caresses you from your hip all the way down your thigh before his gloved fingers trails back up. Your smile inevitably takes him to the dark corners of his mind again because he knows you won't be able to see him smiling back at you.

His next words came out very impulsively. "Can we talk?"

Evidently, you were a little concerned after hearing that given the tone he used. "Is there something wrong?"

"I've just been thinking a lot lately...there's something that's been bothering me and it won't leave my head."

"Okay..." you said, trying to be receptive to what he was saying but still having no idea of what's going on.

"Neither of you know what I look like," he decides to simply confess. Why would he try to over explain something that is actually quite easy to say? "And I've never...you know, actually touched you," he adds, his helmet titling towards his hand still resting on your hip, hinting at the glove covering it.

"I mean, yes...but that's because you're a Mandalorian. It's what your people do, right?"

Din nods after your words. "It's part of our code, but...I don't know. It's been bothering me because lately this entire uniform feels like an obstacle. I still feel like it's a part of me but...it also stands in between us."

"I've told you how I feel about the suit," you quickly say in a soft, reassuring voice. "I don't mind it one bit."

"I know, I know. This isn't because of something you did or said," Din explains. "I guess my priorities have changed."

"You mean...?"

"I mean, I care more about connecting with you than with my traditions. I've started to question things I never took a second to consider before you and Grogu showed up. I want to be able to touch you– really touch you. And I want to look at you and talk to you. Not through a visor and a modulator," he further explains, feeling like a weight is lifted off his shoulders. "I don't need to be a Mandalorian when I'm with you two. I just need to be Din."

"Oh, darling," you start affectionately, feeling so incredibly in love with the man sitting in front of you. "Whatever it is that you want and need, I'll support you no matter what. Helmet or no helmet, you're still the guy I fell in love with."

"Really?" he asks with evident worry.

"Of course," you immediately reassure him.

"I guess it took me too long to talk about this because...well, I didn't know if you'd like what's underneath the uniform."

"Din," you call in a very serious voice, hoping that'll hint just how much you mean your next words. "I love you so much. I love you because you're the kindest man I've ever met. You're loyal, passionate, brave...and you care so much about me and Grogu. I could stay here and mention a trillion things about you that make me fall in love with you every single day. You're the one I want to spend the rest of my life with and nothing in this world is ever going to change what I feel."

He was quiet for what felt like forever, simply staring up at you while you held the helmet in between your hands so you could stare directly at his visor where his eyes should be.

"You can't see it but I'm smiling, by the way. This is a good silence," he offers, which immediately makes you laugh.

"Is it okay if I take it off and see that smile for myself?"

He hesitated before answering. "Are you sure you won't change your mind?"

"I promise I won't change my mind."

There was another pause before he finally answered. "Okay..."

You start to remove his helmet in a gentle, slow manner. If he wanted to stop you, he could at any second. You really didn't want to rush it because you still wanted to give him a chance to back down if he wanted to.

The fact that he wears the helmet all day in front of you has never been an issue. You fell in love with the person he is, whatever he looks like couldn't possibly matter any less to you. That love is not going anywhere. Ever.

It looks like Din is confident in his decision because he doesn't stop you at any point. He continues to keep one of his hands attached to your hip and the other rests on his lap for a few seconds until he uses it to help you completely remove his helmet.

Still holding it with both of your hands, you look down to admire his face. You can tell by his expression that he's terrified as he stares back at you, impatient for any hint of rejection. He was still expecting to see the disappointment all across your features before you take a step back from him and reveal he's nothing like what you expected.

But that disappointment never appeared. Instead, he's relieved to see the smile forming on your face before you leave the helmet next to him on the bed, immediately reaching out to grab his face.

Din practically melts under your touch, closing his eyes and focusing on just how good it feels to have your skin touching him for the very first time. The way your soft fingers trace his cheeks before they move down to his jaw...it feels like absolute heaven.

And you take your time with that. Your digits explote his features as if contemplating them wasn't enough. You needed to touch every inch of his face in order to truly appreciate what's in front of you.

The most beautiful sight ever. The man you love so much, looking even more handsome than you could've ever predicted. From his soft brown eyes to the hint of a beard, he's so perfect you can't believe you're seriously this lucky.

"So?" he dares to ask. Hearing his voice without the modulator for the very first time almost made you feel goosebumps all over your body. How is this man so pretty?

You could've just said that. You could've stood there and told him over and over how pretty he is, but it didn't feel like it was enough. No words would ever begin to explain the admiration you have for this man, even before you knew what he looked like.

After feeling his skin for the very first time, you could only crave more. It was probably that inefficiency of words and the need for more contact that made you lean down and kiss him for the very first time.

He kissed you back instantly, the grip on your hip tightening just enough as he completely gave in to you.

It was evident you were his first kiss, but that detail couldn't be any more insignificant right now. His lack of experience didn't bother you. All you could think about is how lucky and happy you are to have him as your partner.

The kiss lasted for a few more seconds before you pulled away, failing to hide your smile when you saw his face. It was evident he was already missing the way your lips feel against his.

You stare at him again for a bit, caressing his flushed cheeks, before you finally decide to speak. "Does that answer your question?" Din was still too lost in his thoughts to reply out loud, so he simply nodded. His reaction after your first kiss made you giggle, and you swore right there that you've never felt happier in your life. "Good. I'd like to kiss you again if that's okay."

Another nod, this time looking more desperate, was all you needed to kiss him again. You got more comfortable as you sat on his lap, knowing you'll be there kissing him for a bit, feeling his arms wrap around your lower back to keep you close as soon as you sat down.

And as he holds you in his arms, he knows he made the right choice, silently vowing to be yours for as long as you allow him to.

#din djarin x gn!reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin fic #din djarin #the mandalorian x gn!reader #the mandalorian x reader #star wars x reader #mandalorian fic #pedro pascal characters

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multimuseficreblogs · 1 year

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❅ pedro characters a-j ↳ including pedro pascal, dave york, dieter bravo, dio morrissey, din djarin, ezra, frankie morales, jack "agent whiskey" daniels, javi gutierrez, javier pena & joel miller ❅ pedro characters k-z ↳ including pedro pascal, marcus moreno, marcus pike, maxwell lord, max phillips, pero tovar, tim rockford, zach wellison

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djarincore · 4 months

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The Name of Love

SUMMARY: You knew him by three names: Mando, Din, and finally, riduur.

PAIRING: din djarin x gn!reader

WORD COUNT: 6.9k

WARNINGS: fluff, angst, canon typical violence, blood, hypothermia, happy ending

A/N: a repost from my previous blog! i've only written 2 full din fics so far but this is def my favorite one <3 thanks again to @xiadeptus for beta reading this

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You first knew him as the Mandalorian, the stoic and aloof bounty hunter that drifted in and out of Tatooine looking for work or ship repairs. The glinting armor was hard not to notice under the scorching twin suns, along with his infamous reputation that followed in whispers—whispers which mainly revolved around the strange, green child he carried around in a bag and the fact that he never showed his face.

When you first got the job at Peli’s garage, thanks to the favor she owed your mother, the sight of the Mandalorian descending the ramp of his beaten-up Razor Crest had you slipping behind a couple of stacked crates with the rest of the quivering pit droids. He strode down the ramp toward your boss who was already reaching for the green child trailing after him.

“There’s my little guy!” She exclaimed, scooping him up and cradling him in her arms. The child cooed and clasped her finger in his three-fingered grasp. His keeper watched on with hands on his hips; the helmet remained solely focused on the child.

“We need a repair,” he said, the rasp in his voice still remaining despite the modulator.

“Sure thing but, just so you know, it’ll cost you a little extra this time. Got a new hire.” She jerked her thumb in your direction.

You took it as your cue to reveal yourself, noting the way his helmet turned, carefully looking you up and down, and his hand slowly moved toward the blaster at his waist, like he wasn’t above shooting the harmless mechanic’s assistant and a couple of droids. You lifted both hands, stained with oil, as a show of goodwill.

“Aw, relax, Mando,” Peli drawled, swatting the air with her nonchalant attitude. “They’re not a droid.”

His hand slipped off the handle, but remained at his side, ready to draw if necessary.

You sent him a friendly half-smile and his gloved fingers twitched.

“Fine.”

The remainder of the day was spent repairing the left wing and engine of his ship, which looked like it had seen the losing side of a gunfight, and you couldn’t help but wonder how he managed to limp down to Tatooine without crashing and burning once he broke through the atmosphere.

The job would have been faster if you had some assistance from the droids, but Peli made it clear they weren’t allowed anywhere near the ship or the Mandalorian, making his disdain for them abundantly clear. You wondered the whole day what a droid could have done to make him hate even the smallest of droids. The theories you built in your head ran wild, ranging from a nasty betrayal by a trusted ally to tripping him in a crowded cantina, embarrassing him so badly he vowed to never show his face ever again.

You leaned against the rope of the swing suspending you off the ground, taking a break from welding metal back together, and watched the Mandalorian move below your feet. He walked with purpose, something a fearsome bounty hunter with a widespread reputation was expected to do; every step was carefully calculated like a predator hunting prey. Behind him was the child clumsily waddling, as fast as his legs could carry him, after the man.

Your lips curved into a soft smile while observing the dichotomy of the two. It warmed your heart to see how attached the child was to his guardian. More questions formed in your mind about their relationship; the rumors didn’t contain the exact details of how the two came to be together.

Maybe the child is his biological son and beneath all the armor is green, wrinkly skin and comically large ears tucked into the helmet, you joked to yourself.

You pressed one of the buttons on the side of your swing to lower yourself to the ground. Your feet touched the floor, but you didn’t get up.

“Your ship should be up and running in no time.”

“Thank you for your help.”

“No pro- Oh!” You exclaimed when something poked at your leg. A three-fingered hand was tapping your leg; large black eyes gazed up at you. You cooed, “Hello there, little guy.”

He tugged at the cuff of your pants, waving his arms in the air. You waved back, fighting back the urge to smooth your fingers over his floppy ears.

“He wants you to hold him.”

“Ah,” you chuckled, cheeks warming. You didn’t have much experience with children; in fact, you didn’t know the first thing about caring for one. They had so many needs, so many different ways of communicating them too. The pressure to mold them into upstanding beings—it was just too much. But, you could definitely hold a child, especially one as cute as him.

You pulled him into your arms and he immediately found the strings of your shirt vastly entertaining.

“I think he likes me,” you quipped.

The child’s babble sounded like a positive response.

“Me too,” the Mandalorian said, leaning against a crate and watching the two of you.

There were multiple rotations between their visits. Each visit brought a new scratch, ding, or completely wrecked engine that made you look on in disbelief, but you were eager to see the two nonetheless. They brought stories of their adventures, bounties, and new people they met.

You would be the first to greet them, standing at the base of the ship’s ramp with a wide grin and many questions budding on the tip of your tongue.

“Hey.”

The modulated voice made you snap out of your thoughts.

“Yes, sir?”

You could hear him huff behind the modulator. He said to just call him Mando the first time you called him sir, but you never picked it up, finding it too entertaining to hear his exasperated sighs.

“Want to get off this planet? I’ve got a job proposition.”

Your goodbyes were easy—a hug for Peli, head pats for each droid—and suddenly, you found yourself sitting in the cockpit of the ship you had been repairing for the past few rotations.

You quickly learned space was cold and you were not prepared. The thin clothes you were used to on Tatooine wouldn’t cut it anymore and it left you shivering in the passenger seat.

You sunk down your seat, wrapping your arms around yourself to find a semblance of warmth.

You weren’t sure what your purpose was in the time between ports, but even if you knew, you were frozen to your seat and unable to move without feeling stiff.

Soon, you fell asleep, lulled by the stars and the sound of beeps and hollow groans of an old ship.

You woke to fabric being draped over your body and a glimmer of beskar.

The hands over the fabric paused; the Mandalorian stepped back, hands returning to his side, flexing at his waist. “Should have told me you were cold.”

You gripped the fabric and realized it was one of his thick, woolen capes which smelled of caf beans and leather. You resisted the urge to nestle your cheek against the wool and savor the comfort it offered.

“I didn’t want to be a bother.”

“You’re a part of my crew now,” he said firmly. “We take care of each other.”

Your heart stuttered, fingers curled tighter around his cape, and you muttered a pathetic, “Yeah.”

From the kindness he offered, you made a silent promise at that moment; as long as the three of you were together, you would do anything to protect them.

It wouldn’t be long before you realized he felt the same.

—

Then, you learned his name, his real name—Din Djarin. It had been a while into your partnership. You learned far more about the two than your theories could have imagined—his Creed, his force-wielding child.

The three of you had a good routine. He would scout out bounties while you either worked on the ship or found other mechanic work elsewhere if the ship was (miraculously) undamaged. Grogu would be passed between the two of you. If Mando’s bounty was too dangerous for him to follow you’d take him for the day, letting him pass you random tools and praising him for helping. And at the end of the day, the three of you reconvened with separate checks that would go toward supplies and other basic necessities. If it was a particularly rough day, you would be forcing him onto a crate and checking his wounds.

“I’m fine,” he would insist, attempting to push your wandering hands aside. But, you could see the unsteady shake of his hand and the sliver of skin and blood showing on his waist where he was cut.

It was a simple routine, but it worked. You had no complaints…

…Well, just one.

“ Kriff, we’re gonna crash!” You cried, shutting your eyes to avoid seeing your imminent doom that took the form of two towering cliffs of ice far too close together for the ship to slip through. The two tailing bounty hunter ships had followed you from Nevaro, after accusing Mando of stealing a bounty from them, which he rightfully caught.

You knew working for a bounty hunter wasn’t going to be easy, comfortable, or safe—but, you trusted him. He was good at what he did and you never doubted it.

The ship turned on its side, jerking your entire body to the right, and left you at the mercy of the belt across your body to keep you in your seat. You could hear the scrape of ice across the bottom of the ship and cringed, knowing you’d have to repair that (if you even made it out of this alive).

When the ship slipped free from the narrow gap and straightened. you let out a breath and opened your eyes. Snow, miles, and miles of it, touched everything your eyes could see.

He glanced at you over his shoulder. If you could see his face, you’d guess it was smug.

You were getting better at reading your faceless partner. He didn’t say much but his body did with every head tilt and shrug. And you would catch yourself spending a lot of time just observing him.

“You’ve gotta stop piloting like that,” you huffed, cradling your head when you feel the slightest throb. “You’re gonna kill me one of these days.”

“Don’t plan on it,” came his monotone response.

The ship cruised, his helmet scanning the horizon, and kept low in the meantime. There was no sign of the other two ships.

You unbuckled your seatbelt and stood; a wave of dizziness had you staggering. When your hand flew out to catch on to something, you found his, already reaching out to steady you in his strong grasp. The brush of his thumb over your knuckles made your breath catch.

“I have to lie down.” To stop your heart from racing at his subtle touches.

You thought you had gotten used to it by now—the way he made you feel safe. Whether it was his hand hovering over the base of your spine as he guided you through a crowded market or how he would always position himself between you and whatever shady character he had dealings with. The small gestures piled up and toyed with your mind. You understood the signs—heart racing, nervous tension in your chest—the budding symptoms of love.

“We’re not in the clear yet.”

You brushed the heat crawling over your neck off and said, “Can’t we land somewhere and wait them out a while? I’m gonna be sick if you start flying upside down.”

The beginning of his argument was cut off by the cockpit door opening. You slipped out and down the ladder into the cargo hold. Some crates shifted to the right of the ship as a result of the sharp turn. You weren’t concerned with them as much as you were with your makeshift bed space, a flimsy sleeping bag and some blankets, which were also flung off to the side. One of your blankets was stuck under a crate, too heavy for you to lift by yourself.

You groaned, weakly tugging at the fabric peeking out beneath. You were cold, tired, and sick—you already hated this planet.

You heard a curse from above and Mando shouted, “Hold onto something!”

You didn’t have time to react before the ship was nose-diving, throwing you against the wall. You clung to the ladder as the ship's sporadic movements jostled your entire body. It continued for a few more seconds before settling and the engines cut out. Everything was finally still, except your heart.

You heard the creaks of ice settling beneath the ship, then cracks. It wasn’t long before the ice gave way to the weight, shattering into a cavern below and dragging the ship with it.

You don’t remember hitting your head, just the scream that came before it. But, when you finally came to, numb and confused, Mando was rattling your shoulders with a panicked voice.

“Wake up.”

You could have sworn in your daze there was a desperate ‘please’ added at the end.

You groaned, peeling your eyes open, “Mando?”

He sighed like a massive weight was lifted off of him. “Yeah,” he said, there was a hint of a smile in his voice. He carefully slipped his arms behind your shoulders and knees. “It’s me. I’ve got you.”

You were half aware of him lifting you, too dazed by the cold settling under your skin and making a home deep in your bones.

The hull was dusted with snow and frost. You spotted a large hole in the side of the ship, crudely covered with a tarp and some crates.

“Got t’ fix,” you mumbled, leaning your head against his shoulder pauldron. You didn’t even know where to start with something that large on this barren planet. If you weren’t so cold, the dread would have set in, realizing you were stranded on a barren planet with little resources to dig yourselves up from a cold grave.

“Not right now,” he grunted, kicking your toolbox aside—the one he gifted you on Nevaro after you eyed it at a stall for too long. He approached the small corner beside his bunk, which was caved in, where there was little snow piled. He set you down, supporting the back of your head with his hand as he laid you against the wall. “I’ll be right back.”

You could’ve protested if your mouth or eyes didn’t feel frozen shut; all you wanted to do was drift off.

“Hey, hey,” he said. He ripped a glove off and pressed his warm hand to your cheek. “Don’t fall asleep.”

You moaned, pushing closer to the warmth, and tried to focus on his visor.

“There you go. Good.”

With your thoughts slowly catching up, you glanced around his shoulders, not seeing a floating pram anywhere. You wanted to get up and rush around him in search of the child, but all you could muster was a sharp turn of your head that still sent pain down your neck. “Where’s-”

Mando brought your face back to him. His steady voice pulled you out of your panic. “He’s fine. He’s up in the cockpit; I’ll bring him down after I get you some blankets.”

“Okay.” You rested your head against the wall and watched as he untied his cape and slipped it over your shoulders, tucking it close around your body.

He disappeared up the ladder. You heard his faint footsteps, scouring the upper level. He returned soon, a few blankets slung over his shoulder and Grogu tucked in his other arm.

He set Grogu down and moved you forward just enough for him to sling more blankets over your shoulders.

If you could feel your face, maybe you’d laugh at how ridiculous you looked and felt, like a small child being coddled by a worried parent. But, he wasn’t a worried parent, he was your employer—your incredibly kind and caring employer, who you often dreamt of as more than an employer, more than a friend.

“Aren’t y-you,” you chattered, “cold, too?”

You worried about him under all that shining armor; he could be hiding an injury like he always did, pretending he was fine and limping off somewhere else to lick his wounds alone. You wished he wouldn’t be so stubborn all the time.

Grogu crawled into your lap, playing with the tips of your frozen fingers. Mando said something about his armor keeping him warm, but you didn’t register any of it when his hands enveloped yours—calloused and warm.

“Try to keep your arms and legs moving,” he said, massaging the palm of your hands. Then he directed his attention to Grogu. “Okay, kid, keep your buir warm. I’m going to repair the ship.”

“Hm?” You cocked your head at the word. Sure, he liked sneaking Mando’a words into his sentences from time to time—sometimes calling you mesh’la or cyar’ika, which made you blush because of how sincere he sounded—but you just assumed they were nicknames. You assumed buir meant babysitter or something along those lines, too. “Stealing my job, Mando?” you quipped instead.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

When his hands slipped from yours, your fingers twitched, almost asking him not to go. You would warm up faster if he were with you.

He slipped past the tarp, into the cavern of snow. Grogu’s babble drew your attention; his arms were raised.

You apologized, “Sorry, kid, I’d lift you up, but my arms are a bit sore right now.”

He continued to babble as he found comfort nestled in your lap instead. You rested your head against the wall and stared at the opening where Mando left, still feeling the ghost of his warmth on your hand.

The minutes you spent slowly flexing your hands and feet paid off; your strength was slowly returning. Grogu crawled off of your lap and watched as you, with the grace of a newborn calf, pushed yourself onto unsteady feet.

“Okay, kid, let’s go help your dad.” You scooped him up and braced yourself with Mando’s cape, making sure the two of you were snug beneath the fabric before pushing aside the tarp and stepping outside into the frigid weather.

The cold winds were the first to greet you; already, your cheeks were growing numb. Grogu let out a disapproving grunt, clearly not favoring the cold either.

You stayed close to the side of the ship in case your legs gave out and rounded the tail end before finding Mando, with frost coating his armor and hands on his hip, staring at a jumble of wires hanging from an open panel.

Upon seeing his father, Grogu cheered in your arms, alerting the Mandalorian whose head snapped in your direction.

He was already approaching you before declaring, “You need to rest.”

“I can’t cozy up in there while you’re out here all by yourself. Look at you.” You drew a line in the frost coating his chest plate. “You must be freezing under all that.”

“I said I’m-”

“Fine,” you finished. “I know, I know—you’re always fine, Mando.”

You were growing tired of his stubborn attitude concerning his well-being and of standing for so long. You were beginning to sway without realizing it, but Mando’s quick hand on your shoulder steadied you.

“I got you,” he murmured. He took Grogu from you and moved to your side. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, silently guiding you back into the ship’s hull and onto the spot where the blankets were piled.

Once you were settled, you expected him to wander back out but, to your surprise, he began detaching pieces of his armor.

You watched, mouth agape, as one by one the shining beskar revealed a dark flight suit that molded with the contours of his body. The helmet, of course, stayed.

He eased himself onto the floor beside you and wrapped the three of you beneath the blankets. Your eyes widened when his arm pressed against yours. You dared to rest your head against his shoulder; you relished in the comfort of his presence, finally feeling warmer than ever. His body began to relax gradually with your head on his shoulder and his chest rose and fell in an even rhythm.

With Grogu resting in your lap it almost felt like the three of you were a family, settling in after a long day.

“You’re always protecting everyone,” you said, exhaustion beginning to creep over you once again. “We’re a crew, right? Let me take care of you too.”

You knew the irony in saying that while he was taking care of you, but you hoped he would remember it.

He slipped his gloves off to flex the stiff muscles. “I’m,” he started, “just not used to this.”

“Having a crew?” You guessed.

“Having someone care.”

Your mouth dropped open with a response dying on your tongue. Instead, you resolved to take his hand and curl your fingers through his. They were stiff from the cold, but relaxed once your thumb ran over the ridges of his knuckles.

“You’re a good man and I trust you with my life. Don’t think for a second I don’t care about you, Mando. I-” You cut yourself off.

You what? Loved him? Kriff. He just started opening up to you. Telling him you were in love with him right after would surely make him run in the other direction. You doubted he felt the same. You could read him, but not that well.

“Din.”

You snapped out of your thoughts, relieved he didn’t attempt to figure out what you were going to say. “What?”

“My name’s Din.”

He was looking at you now. Maybe if you squinted hard enough you could catch a glimpse of his eyes behind his darkened visor, but you wouldn’t disrespect his Creed and you didn’t think you could handle seeing his strong gaze, boring into you.

So, you turned your eyes down toward your intertwined hands; you tested his name on your tongue and smiled.

Getting off the ice planet took work—a mix of frustration and determination—and you swore to get a nice vacation on some far, far away planet, preferably with a warm, sunny beach.

But, the ship needed heavier repairs, forcing the three of you to find the nearest planet, Trask, for maintenance. A dock worker was quick to offer his services, charging more than necessary, once you landed.

You frowned when Din agreed without hesitation, dropping the credits into his slimy hands. You could have rolled up your sleeves and got to work yourself with better equipment at hand, but Din insisted on the three of you getting some real rest after the stress of the past three days.

The place was seedy, smelled of fish, and you couldn’t shake the feeling of unwanted eyes stalking the three of you as you passed through the quiet harbor. You and Din walked on either side of Grogu’s floating pram.

You, with a scowl glued to your face, pulled your cape, one of Din’s, tighter around yourself. The toolbox Din gifted you was clasped in your hand, deemed too precious to leave behind while strangers fixed the ship. You leaned into Din and whispered, “We should just go back to Tatooine for the repairs; I can do it.”

“I know you can, but the ship’s too damaged and you know it.”

You huffed.

Grogu mimicked your huff, putting on his best grouchy face, and your frown lightened into a smile, pointing at the boy. “See—even he agrees with me.”

Din let out an amused hum. “When did the two of you decide to team up against me?”

“We hold secret meetings when you’re out and conspire against you.”

“Guess I should watch my back,” he deadpanned.

Night fell quickly on Trask and before you knew it, the streets were oddly quiet, only lit by dim street lights in rounded sections.

Din’s stride grew cautious; his helmet subtly turned to scan the area.

You also took caution, straining your ears for anything out of place, but all you heard was the nearby tide pulling in and out.

There was a shift in the gravel behind you. Din’s hand shot out to shove aside Grogu’s pram, sending him off to a nearby stack of crates, and he could only brush your shoulder before turning and deflecting a blaster shot with his vambrace. The heat from the blast radiated in the air around you.

“Run!” He barked, ripping his blaster from its holder and firing off a shot into the dark.

Your feet hesitated and your heart stuttered when another blast hit his chest plate, forcing a grunt from him. But, the sound of worried coos snapped you out of it. You turned and ran toward Grogu who watched the fight with large eyes.

Three figures emerged from the darkness, dressed like pirates, and armed with unrelenting blasters all aimed at Din.

“Give up the armor, Mando.” One of them demanded.

“It’s time to hide, okay?” You said, tucking Grogu into the pram. Your thumb brushed over the mythosaur necklace he always wore like a lucky charm and you were praying it would work. You pressed the button on the outside of his pram to shut it.

The fight was coming to a close by the time you turned back, much to your relief. Two were knocked out cold, sprawled across the floor while the remaining one continued to fight. Both of them resorted to hand-to-hand combat after they managed to disarm one another.

Just when you thought you could relax, the remaining pirate pulled out a blade and took a swipe at Din, plunging it deep into his side and back out. Your breathing stopped when Din staggered and fell to his knees.

The pirate grabbed him by his cowl, pressing the bloodied blade to his throat, and sneered, “Give up.”

Your hands shook. Not like this, you thought. You couldn’t— wouldn’t —lose him. You dropped your toolbox and fell to your knees, wrenching it open to look for anything that would help. You pulled the largest item free, the hammer, and ran. Adrenaline pushed your feet toward the two and, putting all your weight into it, you swung at the pirate's head, sending him stumbling back.

Only dazed, the pirate sent you a menacing glare, lips pulled back into a snarl, and spat out curses, promising you’d regret it.

Your hand clenched the hammer, heart racing, ready to swing again as he prepared to lunge at you. Not even fear or the promise of death would stop you from saving Din.

Then, something ignited, cold and droning like echoes of the abyss, behind the pirate.

You smelt the smoke before the nauseating burnt flesh. It made your stomach roll.

A haunting glow emitted from the pirate's chest before it was sliced clean through. He fell—lifeless—with a thud, crimson leaking from the gash and pooling around him.

Din stood over him—one hand clutching his waist and the other holding the darksaber. His chest rose and fell; his helmet was fixated on the body. You could hear the leather of his gloves cry as his hand tightened around the hilt of the saber.

You never saw him use it before. It looked more like an accessory on him rather than a weapon. He once explained its bloody history and how he came to acquire it. The weight of its importance haunted him, a burden he never wished to bear.

“Oh, Maker,” you cried, rushing toward him. The darksaber unignighted; the heavy atmosphere disappeared along with it and time continued. You dropped the hammer and pressed your hand to his wound. Blood seeped through his fingers and onto yours.

He grunted, “I’m…”

Your wavering voice saying his name made him pause.

“Let’s get out of the street,” he said instead. He waved Grogu’s pram forward with the controls on his vambrace. It opened, revealing the whimpering child.

The three of you limped all the way to an inn. When the innkeeper sent you a weary look, you demanded the first room available and a medical kit—whatever the price. After slapping the credits on the counter, you snatched up the kit and dragged Din toward the room, not caring about the drops of blood staining the hallway.

The room was small and gray; a single bed set in the middle of the room, a nightstand on either side, and a fresher. You eased him onto the bed, where he slumped and groaned.

The medical kit was meager; a suture kit, antiseptic wipes, and a few bacta patches, but it would do. You dashed to the fresher to wash your hands. You scrubbed them viciously, watching his blood run down the sink. Tears blurred your vision. The red wouldn’t stop running.

When you emerged from the fresher, his shirt was already rolled up and he was attempting to clean his wound. Grogu was asleep in his pram, wiped out from all the excitement.

You released a tired sigh. “Let me.”

You moved to take the cloth from him, kneeling at his feet and wiping around the area of the wound gently.

“Don’t do that again,” he rasped.

“Save your life?” The playful tone you attempted fell flat. As much as you wanted to be amused, the fear of losing him still suffocated you. He was safe, your thoughts repeated.

Once the wound was cleaned you pulled the needle from the kit. You were in over your head and a bit nauseous. Cleaning wounds was easy, but stitching them up was something else.

You’ve seen him cauterize his own wounds and pinched your nose when the smell became too much. He didn’t deserve the scars they left behind and this was your opportunity to finally take care of him.

You willed your hands not to tremble as you notched the needle through his skin, apologizing when he sucked in a sharp breath or flinched.

“I told you to run.”

Your voice was finally firm when you said, “I’m not going to leave you.”

He was your partner, through and through, and you cared for him.

When you were finished, you unwrapped a bacta patch and laid it over the suture. You smoothed over the patch and withdrew your hands.

He was already sitting up taller, no longer hunched over or wheezing. You knew it was a good sign but you still trembled all over.

You raised your head, but your eyes were stuck on his cowl where a sliver of his blood was left from the blade. The tears were returning, flooding your bottom lashes.

Would that pirate have killed him right there on the street, stripped him of his armor, and left him like trash? You would have had to drag his body back to the ship—would have to tell Grogu his father was dead.

“Cyar’ika, look at me,” he said, finding your cheek with his palm. “Just breathe.”

You didn’t realize you were gasping for breath, tears running down your cheeks until your eyes finally connected with his visor.

“I just can’t lose you, Din,” you cried. “I can’t .”

There was so much you wanted to say—so much he needed to know. You were so close to losing him and losing the chance to admit how you’d grown to feel over the course of your partnership.

He guided you onto the bed and held you until the tears stopped and subsided into sniffles. Your face was buried in his cowl and your arms were thrown around his shoulder.

“I can’t lose you either,” he admitted, a waver in his voice. You were so close you could almost hear the sound of his real voice. His words were tender and sincere.

Your breath hitched and a realization washed over you.

He pulled back and you pulled yourself out of his neck with wide eyes. Cold metal met your forehead.

“You mean far too much to me.”

For a man of few words, he still said so much. Your hand brushed below the rim of his helmet. “I love you, Din,” you confessed.

Your heart pounded as you waited for his response—for even the sharpest intake of breath. But, it was silent—all but your heart remained still as he processed your words. Your hand slipped away, back to the safety of your personal bubble, which was beginning to shrink as the silence became an oppressive weight on your shoulders.

Say something, you wanted to shout. Did you read his words wrong? Was it just appreciation for his… employee?

“Close the curtains and turn off the light.”

Your brows furrowed and you cocked your head to the side. “What?”

“Please.”

You stood with a frown and shuffled to shut the curtains, then made your way to the light switch. You took one last glance over your shoulder, before flipping the switch and submerging the room in darkness. You could hardly see his silhouette as you shuffled back to the bed with your hands out in front.

A calloused hand found your wandering ones, carefully pulling you down to sit beside him once again, not letting go. Then, you heard a click and a hiss, like he was detaching his—

Your eyes widened when you realized what he was doing and you tried pulling away. Even in the darkness, where shadows fell across the silhouette of his body, you couldn’t risk seeing him—no matter how curious.

“Din, no-”

“It’s alright,” he reassured. The low rasp of his voice was no longer modified by his helmet. He chased after you in the dark; his hand moved to the back of your neck, drawing your face closer to his. You could feel the warmth of his breath brushing across your lips.

The smell of caf and leather drew you closer you and you fell into its embrace. It was your safety, your haven—the home you found in him, along with his son and his beaten-down ship.

“ Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum, ner cyar’ika, ” he whispered into the darkness, gentle devotion laced in his words. “ I love you .”

When he kissed you, it was slow, a tender meeting of lips which you both relaxed into. The weight off your shoulders disappeared and all you could do was smile against his lips and draw him closer.

That night you traced his features in the dark, committing every outline and curve to memory, with a content smile and full heart while he held you close. You didn’t need to see his face to love him; it could wait—forever if it meant you’d still have him.

“You know,” he said in the darkness with you tucked close under his arm, “you wield a hammer well. It reminds me of someone I know.”

“Really? Who?”

It was nearly a full cycle before you met the Armorer, the mysterious figure Din would mention from time to time, a woman he seemed to respect.

You were nervous. Though he never said it directly, she was like a maternal figure and you wanted to make a good impression.

Ever since Trask, the two of you were closer than ever. He had no reservations when it came to you. His hand would lay firmly against your lower back as he crowded around you, guiding you through busy markets, pulling you close whenever someone bumped into you. You no longer slept alone, trading out your flimsy sleeping bag for a cozy spot in his bed. At night when the lights were out, you’d finally get to kiss him and share dreams.

The covert was located on a barren planet. You wouldn’t have guessed there was any life if it weren’t for the scattered Mandalorian sparing at the mouth of a cave.

By the time you landed near the lake, only two Mandalorians emerged to greet you.

“It’s been a while.” A large, blue man said upon approaching, greeting the three of you with a simple nod. He towered over everyone, a mass of muscle and armor that radiated intimidation.

As he approached, your foot slid back as you bent your neck to meet his visor and you bumped into Din. He rested a hand on your shoulder. “This is Paz, my brother.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” you said, sticking a hand out.

The hand that takes yours is firm; he shook once and let go. The hand on your shoulder squeezed.

“It seems your clan has grown.” The figure to Paz’s right spoke, her visor trained on the hand over your shoulder. You needed no introduction for her. It was obvious in the way she spoke, authoritative and clear, that she was the Armorer.

Your lips quirked. A clan, huh?

She welcomed you briefly and Din requested a private audience in her forge. When Din handed Grogu off to you, he said, “Stay with Paz, cyar’ika.”

“Cyar’ika?” The Armorer paused. “Have you claimed them as your riduur?”

You cast Din a curious glance. Riduur?

“I… haven’t,” he said carefully.

“I see.” She resumed her pace and disappeared into the cave.

Din followed, not before pressing his forehead to yours. It was like a kiss, he explained once. You were fine with it. You knew as soon as the day was over, he’d make up for all the kisses you’d missed out on.

��He seems to like you.”

“I would hope so,” you quipped, turning to Paz once Din was out of sight. “He loves me, after all.”

You finally got your well-deserved vacation—on a planet called Pabu, with bright blue skies and a sparkling blue ocean—and more than you could have ever wished for.

Gentle waves lapped at your bare feet as you leaned back against the palm of your hands to soak in the last of the dying sun.

Relaxing like this felt rare and fleeting; part of you was worried some other danger would rear its ugly head and ruin the tranquility. But, a quick glance toward Grogu, who was splashing in the water, and Din, standing watch to make sure he didn’t snatch up any crabs as a snack, dispelled any worry and replaced it with a warmth that spread through your chest like the sun's rays.

You cracked a smile at the Mandalorian who was barefoot as well, after you convinced him to step into the waves, with his pants rolled up to the bottom of his knees.

“Stop that,” came Din’s chastising demand. Grogu was levitating a poor crab toward his mouth before letting it fall back into the water with a grumble, his ears pulled back as he looked up at his father with a pout. “You’ll ruin your dinner,” he reasoned, reaching down to scoop the fussing child from the water.

You stood, wiping away sand clinging to your thighs, and walked over to the pair. Din’s helmet followed you as you approached, his shoulders were far more relaxed than you’d ever seen them.

Even when you stood in front of them, finger brushing along Grogu’s ear as he cooed, his gaze did not stray. You just thought it was your bathing suit; it showed off more skin than usual. Which, you admit, you hoped would catch his attention.

“Problem?” You teased, looking at him with a sly smile.

He shook his head slowly. He was uncharacteristically quiet, more so than usual. Ever since his private chat with the Armorer, he’d been distracted. Staring more than usual—at you, the controls of the ship, the floor—like he was lost deep in thought.

You looked out at the sunset, a wash of orange and gold against a glittering sea. You let out a wistful sigh. “I could spend forever here with you two.”

“You mean that?”

“Nothing would make me happier.”

His hand drifted toward the pouch on his belt, fingering the hem. A nervous habit, you assumed, he picked up after visiting the Armorer.

You rested your hand on his and asked, “Are you sure there’s no problem?”

“Marry me.”

You froze, mouth agape.

“M-marry you?”

“I wish for more days like today, too—safe, peaceful days together with our son.” He opened his pouch and pulled out a silver ring that glittered against the setting sun, reminding you of his armor.

Your hand slipped from his to your mouth, covering up the shock written across your face. Your watering eyes moved between the two who’ve grown so close to your heart. They were your life, your home, and you’d spend forever with them. You knew your answer—you’ve always known, ever since he asked you to join them. In your heart it was always—

“Yes,” you cried, throwing your arms around the two of them. “Yes, absolutely!”

You stayed tucked in his arms with Grogu nestled between the two of you. And, in the foreground of a golden sky, he asked if you would cite the Mandalorian vows.

Riduur, he said, you would be mine, and I you. Our hearts will be written together in song.

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

“We are one when together, we are one when parted, we share all, we will raise warriors.”

Finally, he was no longer just the Mandalorian or Din, he was your riduur.

#the mandalorian #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian fanfic #gn!reader #my works

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dindjarindiaries · 3 months

Text

In Sickness & In Health

summary: Din does his best to comfort you when you become anxious about your health.

pairing: din djarin (the mandalorian) x reader

tags: fluff and angst, health anxiety/hypochondria, fear of death, emotional hurt/comfort

note: This one’s for all my health anxiety girlies (gender neutral) out there. Enjoy your catharsis ;)

rating: T

word count: 2.336k

main masterlist • din djarin masterlist

Seeing the N-1 outside the cabin on your trek home from the hangar was almost enough to make your knees buckle underneath you in relief—or maybe that was just another side effect of the mysterious condition that had been making you feel lightheaded all day. Either way, at least one thought triumphed over all the others, if only for a moment: I made it home, and so did he.

You picked up your already quick pace to get to the door, unlocking it with your access key and letting it slide open for you. The anxious aura swimming at the edges of your vision tried to make you forget all about Din’s homecoming, but your own excitement and relief upon having him home dispelled those thoughts for the time being. You spotted Din walking out of your bedroom and headed straight for him, not bothering to drop your rucksack on the way.

“You’re home.” Your voice was merely a breath as you all but fell against him, your arms wrapping around him and your cheek resting against his tunic-covered chest. “I thought you wouldn’t be back for another couple of days.”

“I expedited our trip.” Din’s unfiltered voice was full of warmth as his hand rose to the back of your head.

You closed your eyes, both to savor the moment and to fight a new wave of anxiety as a lightheaded rush ran over you again. “Why?”

Din’s smile was audible as he answered. “You know why.”

That at least got you to smile with him. “I’m guessing Grogu’s asleep.”

Din huffed at that, the sound rumbling in his chest underneath your ear. “Yes.” You made no move to pull away, and so Din kept you close. “How’s work been?”

The first thing that came to mind was today’s incident, which had you working on a ship’s fuel leak without your mask properly hooked up. The lightheadedness began after you made that realization. Instead, you decided not to burden him and forced another smile on your lips. “It’s been good. Just the usual.”

“Good.” Din still made no move to urge you away, even as he went on. “If you want to wash up, I can throw dinner together.”

You finally raised your head and truly faced Din for the first time since coming home. His hair was damp, as if he’d just finished washing up himself, and his gaze started to search yours the moment you started your own observation of him. “That would be great.”

“All right.” Din gently held your face to press a kiss to your forehead. Your tight chest warmed at the action, making your heart skip a beat in a way that would normally have you laughing, but instead filled you with more anxiety. “Is there anything specific you want?”

You shook your head. “No, thank you.” Your voice was quieter than you wanted it to be.

Din’s brow wrinkled together as his hands continued to hold your face. His gaze gave you a once-over. “Are you okay?”

You knew better than to lie to Din, but the last thing you wanted to do was spoil a reunion the two of you had been looking forward to. “Yeah! Just tired. It was busy today.”

Din nodded at that. “Well, I have no qualms about getting in bed early.” He gestured with his head to the kitchen. “So long as you eat something first.”

You returned his nod, smiling as you stepped away from him. The farther away you got from him, the worse your presumed condition became, the anxious aura returning to your gaze and fogging up your sweet surroundings in the cruelest way. It almost made you spin on your heel to run and tell him the truth, but your own stubbornness kept you from doing so.

Din had bore enough of your worried burdens about your health. You were just overreacting, as always. It was all in your head.

But the symptoms all felt so real.

It worsened under the water of the refresher. The steam clogged your lungs and made it harder for your tightening chest to breathe. You were certain that each new breath was wheezier than the last, as if the fumes from the fuel were at last taking their toll. In one moment, you’d be chastising yourself for not double-checking your mask earlier, and in the next, you’d be preparing for the worst.

What would Din do if something happened to you? What about Grogu? What if it happened while they were away, and that’s what they had to return to?

No. They were home. You were home. None of this was real, it was just your anxiety. But that still wasn’t enough rationale to make your tightened chest and lightheadedness disappear, nor did it help the trembling in your hands.

The steam of the water motivated you to work quickly, and soon, you were out of the refresher in record time. You dressed and walked out of your bedroom to see Din finishing up with dinner, though you didn't have the heart to admit your appetite vanished long ago. Din caught your eye with a smile, though the wrinkle in his brow returned the closer you got to him.

Din kept your plate on the counter and you assumed your normal position, jumping up onto the counter to sit while he kept standing. You picked up your plate and held it in your lap, at least giving the illusion of hunger as you thought through every word you want to confess.

“This looks amazing.” Your statement was truthful, no matter what your stomach might've been trying to tell you. “Thank you, Din.”

“No need.” Din forked his first bite, but didn't eat it, his intense gaze instead focused on yours as he raised his brow. “What’s on your mind?”

You couldn't resist that look of his. There was no point in trying to. You forced out a chuckle, hoping it was genuine, and stared at your plate as you also forked your first bite. “Nothing serious.” You took your bite and ate it, hoping to further convince him of your lie. After you finished chewing, you went on. “I just…” you pointed your fork at him, “did you ever fix a fuel leak on the Crest without your helmet?”

Din’s brow wrinkled again as he ate his bite and considered your words. Once he was ready, he spoke in a cautious tone. “No. I couldn’t be sure I was truly alone in any hangar or landing zone.”

Oh. Well, there went any chance of reassurance. “Oh, yeah. That makes sense.” You forced another bite down your throat.

Din’s next question was as gentle as the hand he set upon your thigh. “Why?”

You began to get flustered, both from trying to maintain your own lie and from Din’s touch. “Well, I just kinda did that today.” You shrugged, avoiding Din’s gaze at all cost. It would only make you tell the full truth, and you were trying your best to weasel away from giving him another reason to worry about you—or foster frustration towards you. “I fixed a fuel leak, but realized after that my mask wasn’t on right.” You dismissed your words with a wave of your fork. “But I’m sure it’s fine.”

Din remained silent, but his actions spoke for him, as they often did. He set his plate down and took your chin in one hand, his gaze giving you a once-over just like before as he circled his jaw in hardly concealed concern. “What’s wrong?”

You shook your head. “Nothing, Din, I promise. I’m just overthinking it, I’m sure.”

Din pointed with his free hand at your own. “Your hand’s been shaking every time you’ve lifted your fork.”

You shrugged and began to play with the metal utensil in your hand. “It’s because I’m overthinking.”

Din’s gaze flickered to your chest for a moment. He raised an eyebrow. “You’re not breathing normally, either.”

You instantly tensed with worry at his words. “Is it that bad?” You’d thought most of that was in your own head.

Din shook his head to reassure you. “No, cyar’ika. I just know you.”

He eased his hand down from your chin to take your plate for you, setting it aside with his own. Din was just as gentle in setting his hands on your knees to make room for himself, bringing his face closer to your own as he held it between both his hands and observed you up close.

“Now, please tell me what you’ve been feeling since the fuel leak.” Din nodded at you, his gaze never once straying from your own. “I want to help you.”

You set your hands on your thighs, watching as you kneaded your skin. “Well, I didn’t feel anything until I realized I had my mask on wrong, so…” you laughed lamely, “I know it’s all in my head.”

“Doesn’t matter.” Din’s thumbs ran over your cheeks for comfort. “You’re still feeling something now. I’d like to focus on that, if that’s all right.”

You couldn’t help smiling at his sweetness. “Of course. I’ve just been a little shaky, and a little… out of it, I guess. Lightheaded almost. I was scared I was gonna pass out on the way here.”

Din’s brow wrinkled again at that. “I would’ve come to meet you if you commed me.”

“I didn’t know you were home. Plus, I didn’t want to bother you.” Din parted his lips to speak, but you put a finger over them, stopping him as you went on. “I know you want to help, Din, but I do this all the time, and I don’t like making you deal with my anxiety. I know I’ll make it home. I know I’ll be fine. I just… I choose to dwell on that small chance I won’t be okay.”

Din remained silent even as your finger fell away from his lips, a gentle invitation to go on.

“All I can think about is what it’ll be like for you and Grogu if something does happen to me.” Your voice trembled, though your composure remained. “You’d be devastated. I’d never want to do something like that to you. And in this situation, I could’ve avoided it just by double checking my mask before working.” You shook your head, your shoulders rising and falling in your first deep breath of the day. “I’ll be fine. I always am.”

Din waited to see if you were done. When you gave him a small nod, he began to speak. “I promise you with everything I am that I will never let something happen to you.” Din nodded to prove his severity to you. “So long as you’re honest with me about what you’re feeling, whether you think it’s anxiety or not, I’ll gladly take every step with you to ensure you’re okay.”

You grabbed his wrists to ground yourself, nodding to show him you understood.

“It’s not a burden. This is what we vowed to do for one another.” Din was even able to offer you one of his sweetest smiles. “‘In sickness and in health.’ Right?”

You chuckled and nodded. “Right.”

The corner of Din’s mouth was raised higher than the other. “This counts.”

You looked at your own forehead the best you could. “Even if it’s in here?”

Din’s brow furrowed in severity. “Especially if it’s in there.” He pressed his forehead against yours. “Your mind is my own.” He blinks a few times and rushes to clarify. “Only if you’re all right with that.”

You smile to reassure him. “I am.” You giggled and shrugged. “I’ve got nothing to hide at this point.”

Din’s worried expression melted into a sweet smile of his own. “Good.” He leans away to kiss your forehead, just like before. “Thank you for trusting me. Your mind is beautiful.” Din’s gaze gives you a once-over, but this time, it’s less worried. “So is your body.” He offers one more dutiful nod. “I’ll help you keep them safe.”

You grinned from ear-to-ear at his genuine sweetness. “Thank you, Din.”

Din’s hands held the sides of your neck as he gently kept you close. “Like I said before. No need.”

Your smile became more mischievous as you wrapped your arms around his neck. “So, you think my body is beautiful?”

Din’s jaw flexed as he looked at the plates on the counter beside you. “There’s… a lot more I could say.” He removed his hands from you to give your plate back to you. “But there’s a different hunger I need you to satisfy first.” The worried knit returned to his brow as he set his hand back on your thigh. “Especially if you’re not feeling well.”

You ate a bite you were finally hungry for. “Trust me.” You swallowed and nodded at him. “I feel much better now.”

Din picked up his own plate as he returned your nod. “Good.” He gave you one more once-over as he took the time to bite and chew his food. “Then let’s eat quickly.”

You laughed and leaned forward, seeking just one kiss from him before complying with his gentle command. It, of course, should’ve been no wonder to you that Din would calm your worries, but it was somehow more than that. Din had accepted you for everything you were, even the bad thoughts that sometimes consumed you.

And that, somehow, meant even more than him calling you beautiful, which you knew he would proceed to do many more times that night and beyond.

main masterlist • din djarin masterlist

#as a health anxiety girlie (gn) myself i know the struggle besties #din djarin #the mandalorian #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin fic #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin fluff #dindjarindiaries

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pedroshotwifey · 2 months

Note

Idk if you still do those nsfw requests... but if you do, can I request Nr 39 and either Din? Because I feel like din would be so taken aback by everything, as he just seems like a virgin at heart (sorry not sorry🥲)

Hi baby!! Don't you know sub/virgin Din is my specialty? 😏 I really enjoyed writing this, and I hope you enjoy!!

Pairing: Innocent!Din Djarin x GN!reader

Warnings: premature ejaculation, grinding, innocence kink, embarrassment, stuff I'm probably forgetting

Word count: 927

Cramped

*****

“Din, I really don’t think there’s enough room in that thing for all three of us,” you admit.

“No, look,” he walks over to the small ship and points at the bubble on top. It appears to be a repurposed droid pit. “Grogu will sit up here.”

You bite your tongue and nod, not wanting to let him down but knowing you need to explain that it’s just not going to happen. The N1 is a big downgrade from the Crest, but you can’t blame him for trying to make it work.

“That’s really smart, but look at the cockpit.”

You watch as his helm turns to the small, single seater cockpit.

“What do you mean?”

You resist the urge to just stare at him. What does he mean ‘what do you mean’?

“Din, do you really want to travel for days at a time cramped in that thing with me? I’d practically have to be in your lap.” You ignore the way your cheeks heat as a crude image pops into your head. You’ve been painfully aware of Din’s innocence for as long as you’ve been flying with him, but this is next-level. Does he really not get why this may be a problem?

“It’ll be fine,” he says. “We can stop more often if we need to.”

You sigh at him, about to bring up the fact that you’ll be wasting a ton of fuel if you stop every day you’re traveling.

“Here, I’ll show you.”

“Din, I–”

“Just try it, please?”

He’s already lifting the seal and getting in, settling himself in the pilot’s chair. He shifts his hips and spreads his thighs as he gets comfortable and makes room for you. It makes your mouth go dry. He’s a few years older than you, but absolutely fucking clueless.

He says your name when you don’t move from the spot you’re standing in. “C’mon,” he motions his hand for you to come take a seat. You chew on your lip for a second but decide to indulge him. You’ll just have to be careful.

You grab his hand and let him help hoist you up, bringing you to stand between his legs and then lower down. You make sure to shift down a bit so that your ass is on the edge of the seat instead of against his crotch. Of course, though, Din’s hands come to your hips to drag you toward him, getting the two of you flush to each other.

You can feel heat in the tips of your ears now as you’re pulled over him slightly. You know he’s just trying to make sure you’re comfortable, but his efforts have the opposite effect when you can feel his soft cock pressing against you. Your body stiffens and you bite your lip, sending a prayer up the maker that it stays that way.

The bulge is fucking impressive, you’re not going to lie. You’ve caught glances of it before—intentional or not—but this is insane.

You try to subtly move yourself off of him the tiniest bit, more to relieve the pressure to his appendage than anything else. He lets you do so, but not much with his hands still on your hips with nowhere else to go. Then he moves them to your thighs, one resting on each. Okay, maybe they did have somewhere else to go.

Another image shoves it’s way into your head, this one of his hands further between your legs, no barrier between the two of you as he uses one of them to—

You shake yourself out of it, squirming as you silently scold yourself.

“See? It’s fi—”

He chokes on his words as your ass brushes against him, the brief friction something he’s not used to.

“Fuck, sorry,” you apologize frantically, trying to get up off of him so you don’t make him uncomfortable. You can already feel him stiffening. He moans softly and his hips shift a little as well, causing even more rubbing on parts that do not need to be rubbing. His hands tense on your thighs, holding you to him so you can’t move. You yelp, unsure of how to get out of this predicament without stirring him further.

“What the fuck? Do that again. I liked it.”

Your jaw drops.

“W-what?”

“Do that again. What was that?”

“I–”

He bucks his hips again, stimulating his now fully hardened cock.

“Mph, that.”

“I-Din, I don’t think you unders–”

But he does it again, and you can feel arousal stirring within you despite yourself. He ruts up, a moan crackling through his modulator. His hands grasp harshly as he starts to grind against you.

“D-Din–”

Suddenly, he groans behind you, his body tensing and trembling as your face floods with embarrassment. You can feel his cock twitching and pulsing, a wet spot forming in his flight suit. It goes on for longer than you’ve ever seen before. You throb with want between your legs as you listen to him come down from his orgasm.

The two of you sit in silence, Din panting slightly as you try to process what just happened.

“Cyar’ika?”

You swallow. “Yes, Din?”

“W-what was that?”

“You just came,” you explain, trying to keep your hoarse voice loud enough for him to hear.

“Oh,” he says, though you can tell he has no idea what the fuck you just said.

“Can I do it again?”

You let out a shaky breath and turn your head slightly his way, knowing you’re not getting out of this explanation.

*****

Here’s the link to the prompt list if anyone else would like to request 🫶

#pedro pascal #fan fiction #ao3 #pedro pascal smut #smut #pedro pascal characters #gender neutral reader #the mandalorian x gn!reader #gn!reader #din djarin x gn!reader #din djarin smut #requested fic #fic request

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thefrogdalorian · 5 months

Text

Dincember Day 5: Cold

Din Djarin x GN!Reader

Word Count: 1109 Rating: General Summary: After your favourite Mandalorian's latest assignment with the New Republic means that his return to your cabin is delayed, you head to bed, thoroughly miserable. But when Din finally arrives home the reunion does not go entirely smoothly, as you find yourself needing to warm him up, with adorable consequences. Content Warnings: None! Author's note: I love it when big scary bounty hunters are secretly little spoons.

Link to read on AO3 | My Dincember Masterlist

You were accustomed to Din arriving back to your cabin on Nevarro from his various assignments with the New Republic at all times of day and night. You had come to learn, after several disappointments, not to wait up for him on the days that he said he would be back. Before, you would feel the unmistakable despondency creeping in as his arrival times grew later and later, usually caught up in some bureaucratic nonsense.

Tonight appeared to be no exception, as the time on your chronometer when Din had promised to be back came and went, with still no sign of him, nor any word from him as to how long he would be. You had tried your best to stop letting it get to you, but you could not deny the sinking feeling that you felt in your chest each and every time he wasn’t back with you at the time he had promised. The cabin felt so dark and lonely without him. You were miserable without him, you felt somehow incomplete without his presence.

With nothing else to do and no point in waiting up for him, you decided to make yourself your favourite hot tea and climb into the cot you shared with Din in order to try and get some sleep. The thought of climbing between the blankets without him was thoroughly unappealing, but the lack of contact proved that whatever he was caught up in was out of his control. He was probably somewhere out there, just as frustrated as you were. You missed him terribly, but perhaps when you woke up, Din would be where he belonged: back with you.

Sometimes, the sounds of the N-1 engines descending through the atmosphere to park outside the cabin would wake you up. But despite your unhappiness and concern for him, you had been so tired that you were in a deep sleep by the time Din finally arrived home. The N-1 parking up did not raise you from your slumber, nor did Din and Grogu as they arrived back at the cabin. The first sign that Din had returned home was the sound of the door to the room you shared together opening.

“Din?” You said sleepily, into the darkness.

“I’m home, cyare.” Din’s familiar, deep, soothing voice sounded into the Nevarrian night. You heard him beginning to carefully remove his beskar’gam, a comforting sound that told you he was closeby. “Don’t get up.”

“Glad you’re home,” You sighed happily, halfway between wakefulness and slumber. You soon fell back to sleep.

Your eyelids fluttered open as you felt the mattress sink with Din's weight as he made himself comfortable on the cot next to you. You smiled as you felt the cotton of his soft clothes as he wrapped his strong arms around your waist. But something was wrong. Rather than the warm, steadying embrace you had grown accustomed to, your ordinarily calm, unwavering Mandalorian trembled from head to toe.

“Din, what’s the matter?” You said concernedly, now fully awake. “You’re shaking all over. Did something happen?”

“I’m ju-just so...” Din struggled to speak against the chattering of his teeth, “C-c-cold.”

“Oh, come here, love.” You said as you pushed him carefully onto his side so his back was facing you, pulling the blanket around the two of you as you did so. You wrapped your arms around his abdomen and pushed them under his shirt so your hands came to rest, palms splayed, against his firm stomach that was beginning to soften slightly with age. “Let me warm you up.”

“Th-th-thank you,” Din said, still shivering.

“Was the job somewhere cold?” You asked sympathetically.

“Ha-had to report to ice pl-planet… Hoth.” Din explained. So that was what the delay had been, then, you surmised.

“Is Grogu alright?” You asked, concerned about what the cold would have done to a being as tiny as Din's son.

“Ye-yes…” Din nodded, “Left hi-him in the ship while… talked to Teva.”

“Okay, just rest now. Focus on getting warm.” You soothed, stroking his dark curls gently between your fingers.

You lay there for a few minutes, enjoying the feeling of Din in your arms, despite how much he was still trembling. It was a welcome change, despite the less-than-ideal conditions that had brought about a shift in your dynamic. Din always liked to gather you up in his arms protectively and hold you close and of course you enjoyed his enormous, warm presence that engulfed you whenever he held you in his arms. You had never felt a greater sense of safety or belonging in all your days than when you were in Din's arms. But every once in a while, it was nice to have a role reversal, to hold him and make him feel how much you loved him and wanted to protect him, too. The absolute love and devotion in your relationship flowed both ways and it was an honour to remind Din of that.

As you laid there and held him tightly, continuing to stroke his bare skin underneath his clothes with your palms, you felt how the tremours that had wracked his body decreased in both their frequency and ferocity. You were grateful that what you were doing had worked, that Din seemed to be warming up from the frigid air on Hoth that had frozen him to the bone.

“You feeling any better now?” You asked as you dropped a gentle kiss to the nape of his neck.

“Much better.” Din sighed happily, though you could tell from the fatigue in his voice how exhausted he was.

“That’s what I like to hear,” You said in relief, “Why don’t you get some sleep, Din? You sound exhausted.”

“I am,” Din huffed.

“Awwww, honey.” You soothed. “You can tell me all about yours and Grogu’s latest adventures in the morning.” You said, rubbing Din’s stomach softly again. "But first, rest."

“Will do,” Din’s voice was barely above a whisper now, heavy with sleep. “Goodnight, cyare.”

“Goodnight, Din.” You whispered. “I love you.”

“Love you…” Din mumbled, voice trailing off as sleep finally embraced him. You could tell, with a smirk, from his even, shallow breaths that he had dozed off.

You were grateful for how easily sleep seemed to have come to him. After a long, arduous job like the one he had returned from, he needed his rest. You were desperate to hear the tales from his adventures but you knew that could wait because sometimes your big, formidable bounty hunter just needed to lie there and be the little spoon, as you helped to warm him up from the cold.

#dincember #dincember 2023 #my fics #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x reader #mando x reader #mando x you #pedro pascal characters #din djarin #the mandalorian #grogu #baby yoda #the mandalorian fanfiction #pedro pascal #din djarin fluff #din djarin fic #gn reader #being the big spoon for din would fix all of my problems rn

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unofficial-writing · 1 year

Text

Brown Eyes

Pairing: Din Djarin x GN!Reader

Warnings: Some angst, fluff, soft Din, that should be it

Summary: After being separated for almost two years, you were finally reunited with Din.

Word count: 1k

Translations: Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum - “I love you”

«̶ ̶̶̶ ̶ «̶ ̶̶̶ 　　　　 ̶ ̶ ̶»̶ ̶̶̶ ̶ »̶

One year, nine months, two weeks, and five days since you last saw Din. You had no idea if he was even alive, but you clung to the last words he said to you like your life depended on it. “No matter how long it takes, I’ll see you again.”

Ever since you two were separated a hole occupied space in your heart. Despite the effort to ease the ache, nothing worked. So over time you slowly began to fall further into your own mind.

You had built a small home on a remote planet beyond the outer rim. Remote was an understatement. Other than the animals that inhabited the surrounding trees, you were convinced nobody else lived here. Nobody that would be able to speak at least.

The land was mostly forests. A shallow but fast moving river ran through the trees, coming down from the mountain that sat a few miles from where you stayed.

Over the past year and a half, you built yourself a house and a system that kept you alive. At first it was merely for survival— just to get yourself by one day at a time— but now, physically at least, you began to thrive.

The lifestyle wasn’t bad at all. Most days you roamed the surrounding area, finding anything you could do to keep you busy. But time crawled painfully slowly.

The longer you spent here, the lonelier you got. You’ve already spent a year and a half without seeing another person. And to think of it, you couldn’t remember the last time you heard your own voice.

Now you walked through the trees, mapping your route without much effort. Mindlessly, your feet followed their normal track and allowed your thoughts to slip away from you. Your alert state faded over time since you no longer needed to look over your shoulder every few minutes.

Your bliss was ripped away from you with the sound of a ship flying quickly overhead. An N-1 Starfighter flew over the trees, headed in the same direction as you— which was also the same direction as your house. You cursed to yourself, thinking back to the fire you left running.

The smoke would be easily visible from the ship’s cockpit and the last thing you wanted was an unwelcome visitor. As far as your knowledge— which you couldn’t be sure wasn’t outdated— the starfighter was used on Naboo years ago so you couldn’t imagine who was flying it now.

Your feet were moving before you thought about it and your fingers fumbled for the blaster you kept concealed in your thigh holster. At least you had that. Your preferred weapons were left behind that morning. Approaching your house from behind the trees, you spotted the ship in the only clearing for miles, at least on this side of the river.

Worry trickled into your system, pooling in your stomach while you came up with a plan. As silently as possible, you moved to just under your window to see if you could get a glimpse of the pilot. You saw nothing so you stood cautiously, moving to the door to enter the little structure.

The pool in your stomach filled quickly as time passed without establishing who or where the pilot of the starfighter was. With your blaster in hand, you turned to go through your door, pointing your weapon in front of you.

The breath was stolen from your lungs as your blaster came face-to-face with the familiar beskar armor. “D-Din?” You whispered, your voice trying to get used to being heard again. His helmet came off slowly, revealing himself to you.

The face you had seen seen only a few times but knew more intimately than any other was now directly in front of you. The only thing that broke your trance was the makings of tears in his eyes.

Once your mind had caught up, your arms were around him. He caught you and wrapped his arms tightly around your torso, burying his face into your neck.

You were in tears, overwhelmed by your emotions. It had been so long since you had felt anything more than your usual stoic disposition and empty mind. And now your heart ached in the opposite way.

“I’m so sorry.” Din said, sounding like he was choked up. He lifted his head so he could look into your eyes, without moving his hands away from your waist. You lifted your hands to cup his face. It almost felt like he wasn’t really there, but he was.

His brown eyes gazed at you with guilt, longing, and adoration. Which mixed together to make the expression he presented to you. You examined his face for a moment before pulling him down to you. Your lips met for the first time in almost two years but it felt like no time had passed at all.

Din melted into your kiss instantly, pulling you closer while you sighed into his lips. After a long minute, he lifted his lips from yours and pressed slow kisses onto your cheeks where tears stained your skin.

Your eyes stayed closed while he kissed your face, finishing with your lips again. “Please don’t leave.” You whispered against his lips. Din’s hand went up to your cheek and your eyes met for the second time.

“I’ll never l leave you again, y/n.” He stated quietly. His voice sounded smooth and velvety in your ears. As he spoke, his breath tickled your cheeks. “Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum”

You didn’t understand all of Mando’a but Din had taught you that phrase when he had first said it to you. It caused your heart to flutter— a much preferred feeling to the previous emptiness.

For the first time in almost two years, you smiled. Din pressed a kiss onto your nose and rested his chin on the top of your head, silently promising he would never leave you alone like this again.

After all that time, all you wanted was to stay there in Din’s arms. Neither of you wanted to let go.

#the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian #din djarin x gn!reader #the mandalorian x y/n #the mandolarian #mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #the Mandalorian x gn!reader

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fabricated-misslieness · 2 years

Text

pairing: din djarin x gn reader

req: no | wc: 2k | pre-relationship

summary: Din wasn’t very keen on rings, but for you, he might be.

warnings: swearing, mentions of blood and small injury (no description), violence (not the main focus)

a/n: almost misspelled mandalorian each time i wrote it

“Hold my ring, will you?”

Mando zones back in when you take his hand. His instincts tell him to flinch away, but you hold him steady. “Thanks.” Without waiting for an answer, you slide your ring over his gloved index finger and leave just as fast as you came.

His attention stays on you this time ‘round.

“Hey, dunghead! Ya wanna say that again?” You provoke the Klatooinian, who happens to be substantially larger than you. Mando notices the Klatooinian’s eyes had been on you ever since his trek up to him to deposit your ring. The only thing he hopes, at the moment, is that his friends don’t follow you back to his ship. Then the two of you would have a lot more problems.

The ugly guy’s nose flares and he leaves his spot by his friends. “Which one?” He cracks his knuckles, “The one about your dick or the one about your mom?”

Your response? A punch to the head. “All of the above.”

Mando can only flinch in accordance to the blows you land on the guy (and cover the kid’s eyes). He knows you pack a punch, but damn, the way the Klatooinian is practically thrown half-way across the room with each one is enough to make him feel it himself.

When you come back to him, hands slightly bloodied and knuckles bruised, he offers you his hand again silently.

“Thank you.” You take the ring back the same way you put it on, holding his hand gently with one hand and taking it with the other.

Mentally, Mando thanks the creed for having to wear his helmet, otherwise you would see his flustered look.

On the way back to the ship, Mando grumbles about it. “You could’ve just asked me to hold on to it.”

“Whatever do you mean, Mando?”

“I didn’t have to wear it.”

“Oh,” You chuckle, “It doesn’t much matter, does it? Or perhaps it would bother your aesthetics, hm? Black wool gloves and gold rings?”

Mando rolls his eyes and, for a moment, he wishes you’d be able to see it. “No, that’s not it…” He thinks upon it, thinks for reasons as to why he’s so bothered. “It’s just, well, it’s yours. I guess.”

“Well, sharing is caring.”

Sharing is caring, he knew that.

He knew he was sharing when he allowed you to stay with him, he was sharing the Crest. He knew he was sharing when he gave you food, he was sharing his rations. He knew he was sharing when the child started looking up to you too… you were sharing custody.

He also knew he was caring when he had your own little sleeping nook set up. He knew he was caring when he woke you with the smell of breakfast. He knew he was caring when he trusted you in taking care of the child, when you and he played and he didn’t have to worry.

But somehow, for some reason, rings were where he crossed the line.

Mando is startled out of his thinking when the child tugs at his pant leg. “Hey,” He breathes out, “what’s up, buddy?”

The child only quirks his head inquisitively. Mando thinks nothing of it, until he catches only the smallest glint of metal hidden within his kid’s robes. “What’s that?”

He coos, thrusting a metal ring up in the air as if triumphant.

One glance at the engravings, wear and rust and he knows whose it is. It was yours.

“Where’d you get that from?” He kneels and reaches out to grab it, but is instead met with resistance. The kid holds it away from him, and while it is only a small distance away compared to Mando’s reach, he doesn’t dare take it away from him, not like that. “That’s not yours.” He states plainly.

The kid frowns in return. “Okay, okay. I’ll give you this in exchange.” Mando takes the metal ball he knows he’s oh so fond of and holds it out. When the child reaches out to grab it, he pulls away. “Hey.” He says sternly, “Exchange.”

The kid grumbles but holds out the ring. Mando does the same. The exchange is quick, and in no time, the child is happily playing around with the ball, forgetting about the ring like it was a mere passing glance.

"Thank you."

As if he called for you, you appear out of nowhere. "Hey, Mando, have you seen my ring?" You see it in his hand before he can answer, "I thought I said sharing was caring, not stealing."

It's only a playful remark, but he still raises his free hand in defense. "The child had it. Maybe you should keep better track of your things."

He offers it to you. However, just like last time, you slide it down his index finger.

"How about you keep it safe for me?"

Mando could sense something was off. "What, you're not going to fight someone again, are you?"

It's your turn to be on the defense, "What? No, no. I just… think it looks good on you."

He quirks an eyebrow, except you can't see that, so he inclines his head, "Does it?"

"Yeah." You say innocently.

"Uh-huh." Though, evidently, he doesn't believe you.

"Hey, you! (y/n)! I still haven't paid you back for last time!" The words would've been friendly enough if you hadn't recognized the voice.

You turn on your heel slowly, hoping to the universe on the way around for you to be wrong. You weren't, though, and that was the problem.

Mean guy. Never learned his name. Served him a knuckle sandwich on the house, seems he insisted on paying for it.

"This is totally unrelated, Mando."

"Mmhm."

When Mando wakes for another day, he smells breakfast in the air, even through the door to his sleeping cubby. The child had probably smelled it before him, ferocious appetite he had, as he was missing from his hammock.

You're his first sight that morning when he opens the door, and by the creed, you were a good one.

The sight of the child on your hip alone was enough to make him melt, but to see you enjoying your food and feeding bits of it to the child every time he cooed (which was frequent) was something else.

He was so stuck in his stare that you spoke before him, "Morning, Mando."

"...morning."

"Saved you some breakfast if you wanted to eat upstairs."

He nods slightly, still recovering from the view, "Thank you."

He avoids your eyes from then on, else he slips up and forgets all about the Mandalorian way. So he keeps them, instead, on different things. His focus ends up on the plate when he grabs it, and that's when he notices it. Your ring.

"Did you slip this on me while I was sleeping?"

"Hm?" You follow his gaze, "Oh, no. Maybe you forgot to give it to me."

Forget? How could he forget? It was yours.

But sharing was caring, and you cared a lot about him.

When he lands on a planet you'd asked him to, for a random reason he didn't much mind, he didn't plan to stay on the ship. The Razor Crest was his ship, and she was his home, but he wasn't one to be holed up in there everyday.

With the child in a bag slung around his shoulder, he sets out on a mindless adventure.

The planet you'd asked him to bring you to was covered in a well established city. High buildings went up as far as the eye could see, along with smaller quainter ones. It's one of these that catches his eye; a jeweler.

The whole interaction becomes a blur. One moment he's looking at the window display, the next he's right outside the entrance wearing not one, but two rings.

What was he thinking?

One of them was yours, the other… the other was his; a silver that resembled his beskar. It was a plain thing compared to your detailed one, and even more aghast with the color contrast of gold and silver, but he couldn't help but think it looked nice.

Maybe like the two of you together, although he wasn't so sure of that.

He arrived at the Crest before you did, pretending like it was the same as any other old, simple arrival. It felt far from it.

He was nervous. Why was he so nervous?

He knew why, but he pretended he didn't, too. Otherwise it would make him far more nervous. He was miserably failing, though.

Which is why you arrived to a pacing Mandalorian.

"You alright, Din?"

"Yeah, yeah." He shakes his head disappointedly at himself. "I'm good."

He moves to you quickly. Needless to say, you're confused at his quick proximity to you. "You're sure?"

He grabs your hand, "Yeah." and slips your ring on your finger. Then–subtly, he hopes–he slips on his own silver one.

Either he wasn't subtle enough or you were watching the whole time. "What's this?"

He gulps and hopes it's not audible, "My ring."

"I didn't know you owned one."

"I didn't…" You raise a brow. He covers it up quickly, hoping you didn't think that he stole it off a dead guy and put it on your finger like it was romantic. "Not until today."

"Well, that's sweet." You remark with a chuckle.

"Sharing is caring." He reminds you.

You had a proclivity for fights, and more often than not, Mando was wearing both your rings. As an excuse, you claimed that, while it would deal more damage wearing rings to an opponent as if it were like a pair of brass knuckles, it would also press back against your finger with every punch. In the long run, it would cause more bruising to your fingers. Or so you said.

One day, as he watched you lead another bar fight, the bar owner sat beside him in his cushioned booth.

"I can't decide whether this is bad for business or," They take a puff of their smoke, "good."

Mando shrugs in a silent response.

He keeps his eye on the fight. The bar owner, on the other hand… "Never seen a married Mandalorian before."

His eyes quickly snap to his hand, which was previously rapping boredly against the booth table. Lo and behold, there was your ring, sitting prettily around his left ring finger. Oh, you.

Did you even see which finger you were putting it on before you lugged a chair at a random guy?

"I… I'm not–I," He clears his throat. "I'm-"

You pull up a chair for yourself at the booth, the backing of it facing the table. "Hey Mando." You lean your arms above the back as you pant to regain your breath. "Who's this?"

The bar owner smirks and raises their arms, "Nobody important." They stand from the booth, not wanting to interrupt the lovers.

"Weird." You shrug. "Phew, that was a good one."

"A good fight?"

"Yeah."

Mando takes your hand while you're distracted taking several good gulps from your pint glass. He takes a moment to consider where to put the ring, though in his heart, there is only one spot.

He leaves your gold ring around his own hand and places his silver one on your left ring finger.

You're still drinking away when what he's done actually sets in. He blushes hard and, once again, thanks the creed for his helmet.

He can imagine, just for a moment, that he's more than just your chaperone; more than a travel partner and more than a friend.

He continues to stare, as if mesmerized, until he is forced to snap out of it as shattered glass rains over the booth. First, he covers the child. Second, he figures out what happened.

A bar fighter, who had previously been knocked to the ground (he can tell from the forming bruises and blood), had stood back up for another round. Maybe he missed your face by a mere, drunken inches; or maybe he'd aimed correctly.

"Oh, goodie. Now you've given me a reason" You stand, for once not immediately caring for the ring on your finger, and take a swing.

All at once, the bar fight roars again.

It's not long until you'll turn back to him to give him back the ring. You won't notice where it was placed.

But he doesn't care for that. Sharing was caring, and he cared for you. There'd be time for it later.

#the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x gn reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x gn reader #🎟 // the mandalorian #🎫 // din djarin #🎫 // mando #🌸 // success!

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beskarandblasters · 7 days

Text

Packin’ (In More Ways Than One)

Din Djarin x GN!Reader

Main Masterlist | Din Djarin Masterlist

Author’s note: This is inspired by this HOT art by @cass-hues 🍑🔥 Unfortunately, I do not know who made this gif so if that’s you or someone you know, don’t hesitate to inform me and I’ll give credit where it’s due! Thank you to @freelancearsonist for beta reading! 🤍🤍

Summary: You see Din’s bare ass for the first time and get the urge to peg him.

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings: canon divergent (long live the Razor Crest), reader is able-bodied and has no physical description/no genitalia mentioned, anal fingering, sex toys, lube, pegging, praising, pet names (cyar’ika), sonic = shower, refresher = bathroom, no use of y/n

“You’re really going to shower with that bucket on your head?”

Din’s leaning against the doorway of the refresher with a towel sitting low on his hips. He just captured a bounty on Coruscant where it’s currently raining, a downpour that chilled Din to his bones. You suggested that a hop in the sonic would warm him up. But you didn’t expect to see him stripped bare of everything besides his helmet.

“Yes,” he says plainly. “What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing! …You just look a little funny right now, that’s all.”

“Funny?” he asks, turning and walking to the mirror. But as he walks his towel drops to the floor and you’re met with the sight of his bare ass. And Maker, it is juicy. You had no idea he was hiding that underneath his cape and his flight suit.

“Oh my-”

“Sorry!” he says, hastily grabbing the towel and wrapping it around his waist.

“You’re sorry?”

“I didn’t mean to… expose myself like that.”

“I didn’t mind.”

“Really?”

“But I am a little mad at you right now.”

“Why??”

“You didn’t tell me you were packin’… in more ways than one,” you say, walking and standing beside him in the mirror.

“Oh… You mean my… behind?”

“Yes, silly,” you chuckle, running your hand over his ass with the towel in between you two. He tenses up at the motion and you’re just now realizing that he’s probably never had his ass appreciated like this before. He doesn’t say anything. Instead, he lets you feel up his ass while the towel hangs dangerously low around his hips.

“Is it weird I want to peg you?”

“No,” he says quickly.

“No as in…?”

“No, it’s not weird.”

“Oh,” you say, your eyes widening. “Should I… go to the store?”

“Yes,” he says, without hesitation.

“Alright, I’ll be back,” you chuckle, grabbing your bag and lowering the exit ramp of the Crest.

You think of where the nearest sex shop might be and quickly decide that lower levels are your best bet. The rain has thankfully subsided, leaving puddles in the street for neon lights to reflect off of. You cruise the streets, searching for the perfect place until you happen upon a goldmine; Nova’s Novelties.

The door opens and you step inside, immediately overwhelmed by the sheer volume of sex toys occupying the shelves and walls. There’s a counter in the back where the register is. A woman is there and you can only assume that’s Nova, a beautiful woman with an inviting aura. She makes buying sex toys seem less intimidating.

“Welcome!” she says, motioning for you to come over. “What brings you in tonight?”

“I’m looking for… a strap-on.”

“You’ve come to the right place,” she smiles, stepping out from behind the counter. “Follow me.”

She brings you to a shelf where there’s a strap on of every size and color, all encased in clear packaging. A silver one catches your eye.

That’ll match his armor, you think to yourself, stifling a giggle.

“What do you recommend for a beginner?”

She reaches and grabs a modest looking one, bright pink in color.

“This one is great for beginners. Not too big, not too small. And it comes with an adjustable strap.”

“Thanks!” you say, taking the box from her. “Does it come in any other colors?”

“What were you thinking?”

“…Silver.”

“You have great taste. Let me check the back.”

She heads to the back room while you take time to explore the rest of the selection, opting for a bottle of lube, too. Once she emerges with the silver dildo in hand, you check out, handing her a fistful of credits and heading back to the Crest.

“Have fun!” she says with a suggestive smile just before you step out onto the street.

As you walk back to the docking yard, you think about Din, waiting for you like such a good boy. You think about the trust he places in you, letting you see him without his armor or his fight suit on and the trust he has to let you do something like this… It’s a testament of your love.

When you get back in the Crest you find Din, standing in the doorway of the refresher with droplets of water peppered on his skin with steam wafting into the hull from the sonic. His bulge pitches a tent in his towel. You can’t believe your eyes, gawking at how gorgeous he looks. It’s almost criminal he keeps all of this locked away under his armor and it blows your mind that this is the first time you’re seeing him like this.

“Did you find something?”

“You bet I did,” you smirk. You take off your bag and hang it on a hook, reaching for the strap-on and the lube. You hold it out in front of you and think about his face underneath the helmet, wondering if he clocked how the dildo matches his armor.

“You like?” you ask.

“I do.”

“Good…” you say, stepping closer to him and placing a hand on his chest. His skin is warm, still slightly damp from the sonic. “Now be a good boy and get in the bunk for me.”

“Yes, cyar’ika,” he says, dropping his towel and walking across the hull to the bunk.

He gets on all fours on the bed while you shed your clothes and take the strap out of the packaging, setting it on the edge of the bunk because you’re not ready for it just yet.

“Are you gonna be a good boy for me?” you say, kneeling behind him and cupping his ass.

“Y-Yes, I promise.”

“Don’t worry,” you giggle, “I’ll go nice and slow at first.”

You squeeze lube onto your index finger, coating his hole with it and teasing it lightly. He lets out a small whimper in response, already aching for more.

“What was that?”

“I… want it… already.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” you say, sliding your finger in.

His breath hitches before he exhales with a moan while you slowly work his hole. You curl your finger while your other hand caresses his ass.

“More,” he softly begs.

“Be patient,” you coo.

He sighs, resting his helmet down on the pillow and sticking his ass up higher. Never in a million years did you think you’d have Din in a face-down ass-up position and yet here you are, enjoying every minute of it.

You pull your hand from his ass and add lube to your middle finger, pushing both back inside simultaneously. A deeper, guttural moan forces its way out of his throat as he melts into the cot faster than a block of ice on Tatooine.

“Good boy,” you praise, pushing your fingers against his prostate. “But I’m far from done with you.”

“I know,” he whimpers.

You feel his hole relax around your fingers and a slew of whispers and Mando’a curse words slip out from under the helmet.

“Cyar’ika, I’m gonna cum.”

“Oh yeah? Let me feel it.”

He cums around your fingers, a different kind of orgasm he’s never experienced before. His thighs shake beneath him as he rides out his high.

“Such a good boy for me,” you praise, slowing the movement of your fingers to a stop. You pull them from his ass and get off the bed, putting on the harness and attaching the strap. “But are you ready for more?”

“Yes,” he sputters, staying in the same face-down ass-up position for you.

You walk to the front end of the bed, crouching down by his helmet and telling him, “You’re doing so well, baby, coming for me like that.”

“I am?”

“Mhm,” you whisper, rubbing his back. He shudders at your touch, eliciting a giggle from you.

“You’re so sensitive right now, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” he sighs.

“It’s almost over,” you remind him, taking your rightful position by his ass again.

You spread lube onto the strap and align it with his hole, one hand holding his hip as you thrust into him slowly. He lets out another string of curse words in Mando’a. It’s unintelligible but it’s a sign of how good he feels.

“You like that?” you chuckle.

“Yes. So much, cyar’ika,” he moans, just as you draw your hips back and thrust into him again. You put your other hand on his hip, holding onto him as you thrust in and out, working him up to his impending orgasm. His moans, grunts, and whimpers are melodic, like music to your ears. It fills you with a deep sense of pride that you can reduce your big strong Mandalorian to a whimpering mess with just your fingers and a strap.

“Cyar’ika?” he whines.

“Yes?” you smirk.

“I’m gonna-”

“Gonna cum again?”

“Y-Yes.”

“Do it,” you command, making sure your pace never falters.

Another moan escapes his throat, slipping out from under his helmet in his beautiful, modulated tone. His whole body shakes with pleasure, quivering as you fuck him through his high, being sure to slow down slightly to not overstimulate him.

Once he’s done you pull out of him, letting him collapse onto the bunk. Aftershocks of his orgasm make him quiver here and there, his ass shaking with each involuntary movement. You giggle watching him rest peacefully after you just fucked the living daylights out of him.

You crouch down and whisper, “Looks like you need to hop in the sonic again.”

“I know,” he groans.

“I’ll join you.”

“Let’s go,” he says, shooting up and heading to the refresher. He has that specific walk about him, the kind where you walk side to side after a good dicking down. It looks good on him, you decide.

Fic notifs: @beskarandblastersfics

Dividers: @saradika-graphics

#din djarin x reader #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin smut #din djarin imagine #din djarin x gn!reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian x reader #star wars fanfiction #pedrostories #pedro pascal characters #ppcu fanfiction

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roguetonorth · 1 year

Text

Fix you

summary: you've been having a hard time dealing with your own thoughts, but your mandalorian lover never fails to kiss it better.

warnings: hurt/comfort, reader and their bad thoughts, fluff, din being a lovey dovey and lots of kissing

pairing: din djarin x reader

word count: 2534k

a/n: this had been sitting on my notes app for a decade and i decided i might as well drop it here idk what it is i was just depressed and yearning

•masterlist•

When your mandalorian noticed it, he had been fully dressed, armor and all. His weapons had been tied up to his holster and he had a flashing puck in his gloved hand, ready for his next hunt.

you had been sitting on the edge of the little bunk din called a bed, dangling your feet and staring at your hands in your lap in the barely dim light of the hull that crept inside. It was too early for you to be awake, which meant you hadn’t had sleep at all.

The thought of it is enough to make din’s heart clench and he abandons his helmet on a cargo box and walks over to where you were, kneeling between your knees and looking up to study your face. Still, you don't acknowledge him at all, so he places a hand on your calf.

“cyar’ika,” he calls you softly, pressing a gentle kiss to the inside of your thigh. “It’s too early yet.” din tells you, pure concern evident in his voice. you quietly hum in response, gaze avoidant of his pleading one.

Din drops his head to rest against your thigh and he stays there with you for a few moments, waiting for you to say something. When you don’t, you hear his defeated sigh as he gets up and leaves you with a little kiss to your hairline, ascending to the cockpit.

When your mandalorian comes back, he sees the door of the bunk shut and no sign of you nearby. The only tell that you’re still in the ship is the small sniffle he hears coming from inside. That’s when he decided he wasn’t going to leave you today.

but still, as the day went by it’s like he had.

You’d swallow hard, hands fumbling meaninglessly by the pages of your little journal or with your belongings— literally anything that kept you busy and distracted from your own mind.

You didn't snap, you didn't stomp feet around, you didn't do anything at all. But din knew. He knew the way your eyes locked on inanimate things but didn't actually see it, the same fog that blurred your mind seeming to creep into your sight as you busied yourself with mild tasks on autopilot.

The silence on the ship is ever too loud without your jokes and giggles and your mandalorian is way too helpless without your stolen glances and little touches. He hated seeing you like this, wandering around and avoiding his gaze constantly yet just out of instinct, locking yourself in your mind and hiding your watery eyes from him. But you were aware that he knew, aware of his confused glances dancing over your figure all day.

the sun had been down for a few hours now, and you caught din’s ever so expressive eyes on you again through the fresher’s small mirror. But this time, you don't draw your eyes away from him or from the small sweet smile he held for you and for you only.

You were almost caught off guard when he actually acted on his thoughts, his arms coming to cross over your torso and pulling your back flush against his chest.

He doesn't say anything, just holds you close in his firm grasp with so much tenderness like he knew he was the only thing that held the pieces of you together.

You don't dare to meet his eyes again in the mirror in front of you, your gaze falling to watch his arms folded over your stomach in a protective and comforting manner.

It takes everything to let your eyes truly meet his chocolate gaze, because you know he'll read right through them just as you can see through his. But all you find in them is worry, care draped with love, the softness he holds you with dripping from them and bleeding comfort onto your skin.

The notch on his brow disappears the slightest as he welcomes your gaze on his.

"Hey,," Din says softly.

So softly that it would have ripped the pent up pain you trapped in your chest for so long now. Your heart aches as you let yourself weigh on him, his stubble tickling softly your shoulder when you reply in a cracked voice that doesn't even sound like yourself, "Hi."

He keeps your eyes in the mirror, squeezing your waist even tighter. There's a questioning flick in his gaze, you notice, the same one he sustained all day, he wants to know what's happening. But more than that there is understanding as he just stays there, his breath fanning over your cold skin as you bask in his warmth despite the forming lump in your throat the longer you look in his eyes. You tear your gaze away from his, your vision blurring with tears you refuse to set free.

Din lets out a sigh, not one of annoyance but one of uttermost care, the pain you drown yourself in drowning him too. And that only added to said pain, because you didn't want to drag din to the dark pit you were in, specially because you didn't even know what caused this. You hardly thought there was a reason to.

But din didn't care, your din didn't care even if that meant you needed distance from him. All he cared about was that you were okay.

He watches you in the mirror, ever the most beautiful thing he'd seen even as a stray tear rolls down to stain your shirt, letting his hold on you loose a bit as he presses a quick and tender kiss to the nape of your neck.

"Do you want me to leave?" He asks with a soft whisper.

You suck in a breath, hands desperately pressing his arms back into place as a hurried "No." leaves your lips. You knew there was no point on pushing him away

Din smiles a little, tightening his grasp on you again and making you feel safe in the way only he could, "Okay."

He lets his eyes flutter closed as he sees you do the same, nudging his nose in your hair and breathing you in as if you were the first oxygen molecule he'd had in days. He never lets go of you, not even as your breaths even out and you try to reach for his face over your shoulder, he'd never let go of you until you told him to. He looks over at you as he drops his face to yours, the crevice of his nose dovetailed with yours, a cracked smile of yours stealing his heart despite your heavy eyelids and set jaw.

"Do you want to talk?" He asks unsurely, not wanting to push you but extremely eager to help you feel better.

You only shake your head no, your heart sinking upon denying his tender offer. And he waits again, his forehead resting on your shoulder as he waits for you to open up in your own time.

"I just," you sigh loudly, tired of your own bullshit and asking yourself how wasn't he, how and why the hell was he still with you here, "I just need to stop thinking."

"It's okay," he murmurs right below your ear, his eyes meeting yours with the same warm, welcome and home-like gaze, "I've got you." Din holds you a little tighter, almost swaying with you in his arms in a comforting motion.

You let yourself sink on him. drown in his scent and in his soft hold, ignoring the fact that you don't deserve this, that you don't deserve him and actually allowing yourself to accept the care it pained him not to give it to you.

"I want to help you, cyare." He says, the concern still as present in his voice and eyes as you turn around to face him, his hands rubbing soothingly on your back.

You close your eyes shut, nodding with your face buried in his neck. He smells like musk, spice and something sweet impossibly and uniquely like him. the haze his strong adoration and love inflicts upon you is like a sedative, working so easily into your chaotic mind that you feel like you’re asleep in his arms.

You barely acknowledge him bringing you to the cot and laying you down gently on your shared bed, complying eagerly on holding onto you once again as you make grabby hands motion to him.

he lays down on you, his weight like a rock pining you in place under his care and his love. His arms are on your back, under your shirt warming your skin. His nose tracing your jawline, his brow furrowed like he'd break his own heart to fix yours. Maker knows he would do it without giving it a thought.

You just let him drown on you, your hand cradling his hair and toying with his curls and you can't help but to smile softly like he always caused you to.

Din's heart skips a beat as he sees your smile for the first time today, and it only spurs him on as he starts pressing soft butterfly kisses on your neck.

You release a soft breath, almost like a giggle when he sticks to a little spot below your jaw, softly kissing tenderly one more of his promises onto your skin, one that he'd always care for you in every way he could.

It tugs your heart lighter and a small smile crosses your lips, "what are you doing?"

din smiles too, parting from the crook of your neck to look at your eyes, "i miss your smile cyar'ika,"

Though you do hold a smile for him right now, you feel bad for the way you pushed yourself away from him, building an emotional barrier between the two of you for practically the whole day.

"I'm sorry," you begin, drawing your eyes away from his, "i shouldn't have shut you out like that, I— I'm, I'm sorry, i—"

"Hey," he cuts you off gently, his call barely a whisper, "it's okay, we're okay." din reassures you, shifting from your side to hover over you, the broad expanse of his shoulders blocking part of the light coming from the little panel by the door. "I understand that you need space, I'm not upset," the sound of his voice caresses your heart and soothes your mind, especially when he leans in to press a kiss to your temple, then to your cheek, "just want you to be okay.”

You heart warms up in your chest because you know every word din says is whole heartdly meant.

"I know." The tone of your voice is still a little dull from spending so much time without saying anything and it does nothing to convey the immense gratitude you feel for din.

Din, the man who would go across the galaxy out of his way to buy you mundane little things you liked or wanted without you even asking. Din, the mandalorian bounty hunter who'd slaughter anywone who dared to look at you the wrong way but still would turn himself to a puddle just from seeing you smile or hearing your voice. Din, who gave you everything he had and everything he is, yet would never ask for anything in return.

The metal door you stare at turns blurry and you reach your arms out around dins neck, squeezing him closer as if you wanted him to merge into your form more than humanly possible. He basks in your action, letting out a content sigh and sneaking a hand up your back, fingers grazing up your spine to slip into the back of your neck and into your hair.

You lean onto his touch, unable to focus on anything else but din and the soft scratch of his stubble on your skin as he kisses the corner of your mouth.

The smile you hold for him grows a bit wider as his lips ghost a gentle peck over yours, sweet and soft like a silky warm blanket that could keep you warm even in the coldest planet in the galaxy. Din kisses you again, but this time his lips move against yours tenderly and achingly slow. It brings back the butterflies that dance in your stomach and wander over to heat your cheeks like it happens everytime din kisses you like this.

You reach a hand to touch his cheek, encouraging him to deepen the kiss as you do part your lips for him as well. You sigh into his mouth as you feel his tongue slide against yours and his limbs tangled with yours weigh on your more heavily. You kiss him deeply and passionately, moving your hands to splay over his soft curls and over his back.

The only second you and din part from each other is when he moves you, pulling your waist flush against his and sliding his hand over the length of your leg to urge your to wrap it around him.

And then he's back on you, kissing you like both of your lives depend on it. And he does it so tenderly, you almost believe if you part from him ever again even for a second you'll die.

Din's movements grow hungrier but he stays soft and slow, lips nothing but gentle bliss against yours breathing in your small sighs and hums along with his own. You release a giggle between kisses, which causes din to stop and look at you with wide, warm brown eyes.

"What?" He asks, mirroring your own smile as some of his mussed curls fall over his forehead to make him look even cuter and you giggle again.

"You make me happy," you tell him, not bothered at all by the simplicity of the confession since the feeling is genuine as it can be, "Especially when you start doing this."

din's eyes lit up and his small smile grows smug, "doing what?" you can hear the teasing in his voice he drapes with innocence and you can even feel it as his mouth meets your again, tongue licking into yours like he needed you more than he needed oxygen, "this?"

the last word comes muffled by your kiss, and you don't stop him even as you smile into it, only giving in for a little while longer to feel his careful haze to be enveloped in the love of the man the galaxy gifted you with.

As the both of you comply into your need to breathe, Din's forehead falls to rest against yours and his heavy breaths fall over your lips and you know he's in tune with you and always will be.

You hum contently against his lips as he presses a final, slow and soft kiss to yours, sealing the promise that despite it all he'll be there to fix you.

And even if he's not able to, he'll still want you, broken pieces and all.

Taglist: @girlofchaos @darklordofthesimp @jbbuckybbarnes @dontletyourchildrenwatchthis @mauliebear @starstruck-loner

Please let me know if you'd like to be added, or removed from my tag list, ty <3

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