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theidiotwhowritesthings · 1 year

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Okay so like, I’ve never requested anything so I don’t really even expect you to see this lol. But likeeee, can I possibly request a Din Djarin x reader, where neither the reader or Din know Grogu has the armor under his robe that the armorer gave him, and something happens where Grogu gets hurt and they both lose their minds before getting to him and realizing little dude is just fine. Please and thank you 🥹

Ooooh this is a good prompt. Speaking of, if you've asked for one then it's probably on my to-do list, but i am slow🤡. plus, updates of AFS and a couple other things come before random drabbles.

Din Djarin x Female!Reader

Word Count: 1.7k (i dont think I'm capable of writing less than a thousand words apparently smh)

AT FAULT

"don't let fear make your decisions." -Michael G. Manning

The quarry was laid on his back as a pool of purple blood began to settle in the sand under him. The twi'lek was motionless and your breathing was finally starting to calm. In one arm you held Grogu who seemed nonplussed by the violence at hand and in your other you held the still smoking blaster. When you managed to tear your eyes off the quarry's body they lifted to land on Din who stood stiff on the other side of the body.

"What the kriff was that?" Din snapped. His entire body was drawn taut like a wired rope pulled to tight. He was nearly vibrating in place and the anger that leaked into his voice was palpable. "Karking⏤ what the hell do you think you're doing out here!?"

His tone made your already irritable mood worse. You stuck the rarely used blaster back into the holster at your thigh. "Apparently, saving you! Maybe show a little gratitude!"

"Grati⏤” The word wasn’t even able to leave Din’s mouth. He stormed forward, boots passing the dead quarry, until he stood right in front of you. Close enough that the Mandalorian was forcing you to tilt your head up to look at him. You knew he stood that close on purpose⏤ he wanted to tower over you right now. “The two of you could’ve gotten killed! I told you not to leave the Razor Crest!”

“We’ve been on that ship for two weeks straight, Din!” You argued. “We just wanted a little fresh air⏤”

“I told you this quarry was dangerous, I said⏤”

“All your quarries are dangerous, Din. You⏤”

“When I tell you to stay on the damn ship,” Din grabbed your by the arm not holding Grogu, “I expect you to kriffing listen. Dank farrik, cyar’ika.” The way he spat out your usual nickname made you wince. “I told you this quarry was bad news⏤”

“And I told you that you shouldn't have taken the bounty!” You yelled and tried to yank your arm free. Din held on tight, and Grogu began to babble worriedly in your arms. “I told you we should take a break! Take a breath! We all need it, even you. Especially, you!”

You yanked your arm back again and this time it broke free. Din settled on placing his hands on his hips, but you could still feel his anger radiating off of him. Tempers had been running high the last few weeks, stuck on a close quarter ship while stressing over the Empire being on your heels, and it seemed the two of you were finally letting it come to a head.

“It’s naive of you to think we have the time for a break.” Din seethed. “I take bounties so we can afford fuel to run, food to eat, and⏤” He shook his head, taking in a sharp breath before continuing. “You tell me to show you gratitude? Gratitude because you risked yours and Grogu’s life for me?” Din took one step toward you and you took two steps back so he stayed a foot or so away. He pointed to himself. “Everything I do, my only priority, is keeping you and Grogu safe. Away from the Empire. So, how about you show a little gratitude and stay on the damn ship when I tell you to.”

Grogu whined in your arms and you shifted him to the other in a poor attempt to console him. You weren’t ready to climb onto the Razor Crest quite yet. You weren’t done with this fight. Din’s anger and words only spurring you on further.

“You think I’m not grateful for all you do?” You spat. “Of course, I am, you ass! I just hate watching you burn yourself into the ground for us. You need to take care of yourself too, Din. That involves taking a break now and then! That’s why I suggested leaving this bounty untouched. I just want to help.”

Din nodded once then tilted his head. “Right. Yeah. Putting Grogu and yourself at risk was a lot of help. I feel much better. Thank you, cyar’ika.”

You scoffed, “You know what, Din? You are⏤”

The sound of an unfamiliar chuckle and your eyes snapped from the dark t-shape visor to the quarry sitting up with a menacing grin. It took less than a second. It happened so quickly that your mind couldn’t register the movements fast enough.

A blaster raised.

A blaster fired.

And, you didn’t have the time to spin away. The force of the blaster bolt knocked you right off your feet and onto the ground.

You heard Din scream, the sound hoarse and raw and broken, then you heard another blaster go off. As you laid on your back, you realized you weren’t hurting. Your back was a little sore from landing on it, but you didn’t feel the sharp burning pain of a blaster scorching through your skin. That’s when your brain finally clicked. That’s when you realized. Grogu. Oh, Maker. Grogu. Grogu, baby⏤ Your eyes snapped down to see the little boy’s eyes closed and the front of his robe was blackened from the blow.

The scream that filled the air this time was yours. You felt the sound reverberate in the base of your throat, it rattled your chest, but the only noise you could hear was the racing heartbeats that pounded in your ears. You sat up, cradling him to your chest, and you could feel gloved hands pawing at your arms. Someone was trying to take him⏤ someone was trying to take him from you. You screamed once more, your body shook, and a gloved hand cupped the side of your face. Nothing registered until you saw Grogu blink his big eyes open. Your breath caught in your throat. That same gloved hand pulled aside Grogu’s ruined robe and the telltale shine of beskar stared back up at you. A mudhorn adorning the plate that Grogu wore at the center of his chest.

Grogu let out a soft mumble and smiled up at you.

“Oh, thank the Maker.” Din breathed. “Cyar’ika. Cyar’ika? Cyari’ka!” A hand titled your face up, tearing your eyes away from Grogu who was wiggling in your tight grip. You met the dark t-shape visor of Din’s helmet. “Are you okay? Did it clip you? Are you hurt?”

You shook your head and opened your mouth, but all that came out was a ragged sob. Even after Din pulled you both into his arms, you continued to cry against his silver beskar plated chest until your own chest ached from how badly each sob racked your body. Grogu seemed content to be squashed between you and Din.

Hours later, in the quiet of hyperspace, Din sat in the pilot’s chair with you on his lap, cradled against his body, while you held Grogu tight to yours. It seemed since the incident Din refused to let either of you go, and you had no desire to complain. Having his arms wrapped around you while you watched Grogu sleep was the safest you had ever felt.

“I’m so sorry, Cyar’ika.” Din whispered. His unmodulated words were muffled by the way he rested his face at the top of your head⏤ buried his lips into your hair to continue peppering light kisses anywhere he had access. In this position, your head tucked under his, you couldn’t see his face. “I am so, so sorry.”

You shook your head lightly. When you spoke, your voice was ragged from screaming earlier, “No, I am. I should’ve listened to you, Din. I should’ve stayed on the ship.” Your eyes began to water again. “I almost got Grogu killed.”

“No. No, that wasn’t your fault. Ner mesh'la cyar'ika, ibic hara cuyir pal'vut.” Din mumbled the end of his sentence in Mando’a. “You were right. I shouldn’t have taken that bounty. I can’t lose the two of you and I’ve grown… obsessive in trying to protect you.”

“It’s worked. You’ve kept us safe. If I had listened to you⏤”

“You’re not prisoners. I can’t lock you away from the world because of my fear.” Din cut in. You let your free hand trace down the small bridge of Grogu’s nose and he scrunched it up at the contact while staying soundly in his sleep. Nothing Din would say could rid you of this guilt entirely. If he wanted to claim the mistake he could, but that didn’t make it any less your fault as well. “Please speak to me.”

You closed your eyes and lifted your head so you could press a kiss against Din’s throat. He shuddered and sighed at the touch. “Can we just agree that this is both of our faults?”

“We can.” Din shrugged, his arms tightened around you. “But I'd rather you not take any of the blame.”

“Yes, well, unfortunately as we’ve learned, I’m not good at listening.” You mumbled.

Din chuckled. “Good. I don’t want you to blindly listen to me. Your ideas are equally as good as mind, if not occasionally better.” He closed the space to press a soft kiss against yours. It was sweet and tender. Not a declaration of lust or desire, but a reassurance that you were there. Din broke away to whisper. “But if you could at least let me know when you are leaving the ship, I’d appreciate it.”

“Only if you promise to take us somewhere pretty soon.”

“I’m already ahead of you, cyar’ika.” As he spoke, his lips brushed against yours and you had no desire to lean back away from him. Din moved his hand and you could feel his hand brush against the side of your arm every time he soothingly rubbed Grogu’s head. “Crest is on route to Naboo.”

You pressed another light peck of your lips against his before leaning your head back down against his chest. Din settled his head back on top of yours, and you felt the soft caress of his thumb against your arm from the hand that was wrapped around you. Din pulled you and Grogu a hair closer, and you reveled in the silence of hyperspace.

"Also, when did Grogu get a mudhorn beskar chestplate?"

"Your guess is as good as mine."

mando'a translations

Ner mesh'la cyar'ika, ibic hara cuyir pal'vut. [My beautiful darling, this sin is mine.]

#asks #feel free to ask me about anything!!#the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #mando x reader #mando x you #mandalorian x you #mandalorian x reader #grogu #angst/comfort #fluff

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deakyjoe · 1 year

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Beaming Beskar

Pairing: Din Djarin x Reader (no pronouns are used but he calls reader mesh'la meaning "beautiful")

Category: Fluff, friends to lovers (not explicitly stated but may make a part 2)

Summary: Din has a unique way of telling you when he's smiling at you.

Warnings: none really, fluff

Word Count: 800ish (a baby)

A/N: A short little fic to celebrate my journey of getting back into writing. Thank you to Pedro Pascal’s filmography for inspiring me. Also I'm in love with Din Djarin.

It had started when you had made a joke, something silly about the child being a wizard when he made his food float in the air, and a small huff of air had rattled through Din's modulator. Your head had immediately snapped towards him, utter shock rocketing through you. The Mandalorian barely acknowledged your existence, speaking a handful of words to you since you'd met him, and yet here he was... laughing at you. No, not at you. With you.

"I'm sorry, did you just find something I said funny?"

"I laughed, didn't I?" All amusement was gone from his voice almost instantly. You'd pushed it. Finally an opening with him and you'd already ruined it.

"It's hard to tell. You could've just been breathing loudly." You shrugged it off and turned back to the kid, not wanting to provoke him further. He could be temperamental and you never wanted to upset him, meaning you had to tread carefully with him sometimes. You rather liked the Mandalorian, despite him hardly seeming to care for you much. To be honest, you didn't think he cared for anything apart from the child. Which was understandable.

"I smiled." The statement seemed almost sad as he said it, a note of reservation in his voice.

You glanced back up at him, eyes flicking over the helmet for a moment. "I can't... I don't know when you're smiling."

Silence.

Maybe a question wouldn't hurt...

"Do you smile often?"

Hesitation. "Sometimes."

Okay, that was something. Now another question. Just to see how much you could get out of him.

"At me? At the kid?" You answered your own question. "Ooh, definitely at the kid."

"Both. Mostly the kid." He added the last part on quickly.

"Hm." You nodded though the slight crease between your brows gave more away that you intended. You craved knowing him. That was the only way to explain it. And when he gave you so little... it made things difficult.

Din spoke your name softly to get you to look at him again. When you did, he lifted his hand up and traced a line across his helmet. His index finger started on one side, down near where his chin or mouth would be, and drew a curved line across to the other side. A smile.

Your eyes lit up at the gesture and Din found himself smiling at you again. So he repeated the motion. Seeming elated at the idea, you scooted the crate you were sitting on closer to him so you were almost knee to knee.

Gazing up at him with this gorgeous sparkle in your eyes that had Din grinning beneath the Beskar, you asked him a simple question. "Can you do that every time you smile at me? Please?"

"Yes, mesh'la. Of course." The Mando'a term of endearment had slipped before he even had the chance to think about it. But how could he resist when you were looking at him like that?

You always regarded him with a certain glint in your stare, that was only ever brightened when you smiled, as if Din was the most wonderful thing you'd ever laid your eyes on. There was never any hint of hostility, forever open and joyful when you looked at him. And the smiles only ever confirmed this. But in that moment, with the way you were looking at him, Din could feel electricity pumping through his body. He felt alive. And... seen. It was almost like you were seeing straight through the armour and looking at him.

With your shoulders hunched and head ducked in embarrassment at the name he'd given you, you shot him another gorgeous smile that he returned. He loved making you smile. And he loved you making him smile, which you did more often than he ever wanted to admit.

So, naturally, he drew the line across his helmet again and revelled in the happiness that was practically radiating off of you in hot waves as you looked at him do it. The positive emotions must have been pouring out of you as the child began to babble and giggle as well, sensing the high spirits in the room.

The noises the green baby was making seemed to remind you that you were supposed to be helping him eat as you let out a surprised sound and moved back closer to him, struggling to tear your eyes away from the Mandalorian. Din loved to watch you interact with the child, it was those moments that made him smile the most. And whilst he'd maybe never admit it out loud to you, he was happy to express himself through smiles drawn onto his helmet.

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #mando x reader #mando x you #pedro pascal #din djarin fanfiction #the mandalorian fanfiction #mando fanfiction #din djarin fluff #grogu

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tommysversion · 1 year

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I def see din as a girl dad, just imagining him living his little cottagecore dream with his son safe and sound and with little girls that have his dark hair and eyes <33 his heart would be so full and he’d love and protect his family with all he has. He’d train them to be strong warriors that proudly wear the symbol of clan djarin. The finale has me maladaptive daydreaming loll

Okay but same, anon. Same.

——

He can hear the children before he sees them; he’s around the back of the house, checking the crops, pulling up root vegetables and dumping them into a wheelbarrow.

Later, his love will cut those up. Stew some with some meat for dinner, and preserve the rest for winter. You’re handy in the kitchen, and he’s grown fond of the pickled vegetables that you love so much.

Wheeling the cart around the side of the house, he pauses to wipe the sweat from his forehead; it’s mingling into his curls again, but that’s alright. He’s long since gotten used to being slightly sweat damp, letting the sun further tan his olive skin to a deep bronze.

He sees Grogu first, splashing in the shallow pond a few feet from the house, using the force to send mud balls towards the girls.

They’re so alike that most struggle to tell them apart; there’s only a year between them, and they both resemble him far more than you. Both with his dark curls, his obsidian eyes, but they have your temper, your spirit.

Both girls hold small shields, gifts from Bo for their last new year’s turn. Giggling riotously, they try to deflect the mud being slung at them by their brother, until the youngest shrieks, scrapes mud from her shield and flings it right back.

All three children are drenched, covered in mud and water and laughing their heads off. It’s exactly the sort of childhood he didn’t get, but he doesn’t begrudge them a moment of it. This is what he meant, when he told his people they should fight, give their children a chance to play under the sunlight.

They might be playing around now, but he knows his children are strong. All three of them, and the fourth on the way will be, too. All three wear the symbol of his - of their - clan, the girls in gauntlets and necklaces, Grogu in his breastplate given to him by the Armorer years previously.

The baby will, too.

When the eldest spies him, she straightens immediately, shifting into the casually attentive stance he’s taught them; a warrior’s stance. Clearly, she isn’t sure what to think. Will her father disapprove of this horseplay when he values discipline, culture, tries to teach them to be warriors?

He kneels down as though to speak to her, waits until she’s looking at the ground, then scoops up a handful of mud and lobs it at her lowered shield.

When the four of them troop into the house an hour later, drenched in mud and laughing, the girls hanging off his arms and Grogu on his shoulder, you take one look at them and shake your head, fondly ordering them to take baths before they eat, muttering about just sweeping the floor.

Giving the girls a conspiratorial smirk, Din sneaks up on you, wraps his arms around you and plants a kiss on your cheek, smearing your dress with mud.

You shriek with laughter, chasing him towards the bathroom, the girls and Grogu howling with laughter as they watch their parents.

In short? It’s perfect. It’s the life he always dreamed of having, but never thought he’d get. And he wouldn’t change a thing.

#answered #my writing #my fics #the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin fluff #Grogu #the mandalorian fic #pedro pascal character fic #pedro pascal #Star Wars #Star Wars fic

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thefrogdalorian · 5 months

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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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joelslegalwhre · 1 year

Text

My Riduur

I put translation for the Mando‘a words at the end, so you don‘t get confused but I also have the link to the dictionary right here

Took me long enough to write this 😮‍💨 Thank god my exam is over (and I stressed for nothing, it was actually really easy), so here you go with my first ever din fic, I hope you like it x

pairing // Din Djarin x fem!reader

word count // 1.6k

summary // Mando didn't like it at all that some boy thought he could get close to his wife. He couldn't show with actions that you were his, the helmet prevented that, but he had his own way to show it.

warnings // jealous Din (let‘s still call him Din okay, thanks), pda, established relationship, lovesick puppy energy, protective!din, allusions to smut, Din and reader speaking Mando’a, me having absolutely no clue about Mando‘a grammar, taking the helmet off if you’re married is okay here, okay? Thanks (did I miss something?)

Masterlist// Mando‘a dictionary I used // my kofi 🩷

It felt strange to be sitting here, in a bar on Mos Eisley, surrounded by all kinds of people, droids, and even a few bounty hunters.

It wasn't the feeling of sitting in a cantina that was weird. No, it was more the feeling of not having to accept a job. You were not here to look for one. In the last months you had almost had no break, and now you could finally lean back a little. The thought, of picking out a nice place with Mando for the three of you for the next few days, pleased you.

But before you did that, you just had to have the ship repaired a bit, after it had taken quite some damage.

Mando was still at Peli Motto's place, busy showing her the ship and checking the price for the repair. You had been looking around the bar ever since he left, hoping he'd be back soon. The jobs of the last weeks had been unique, the wages you had collected for them were easily enough to sit back and relax for a few days, even after getting the razor crest repaired.

You were sitting at a free spot at the bar of the cantina and watched the people and other beings talking to each other. Some argued, some laughed with each other.

You wondered how long it would take for Mando to-

"Hey there, gorgeous." someone sat down next to you, interrupting your thoughts.

You looked at the stranger for a moment, eyeing him. He had to be your age, a few strands of his dark hair fell into his face, and his eyes were not only gleaming with a deep blue, but with an extreme amount of confidence. "I didn't expect to see an angel today." he smirked in a way that almost made you laugh. He didn't lack any confidence, that was for sure.

You drew your brows together, and tilted your head slightly as you looked at him.

"Say, does that work on any woman?"

At his next sentence, you were sure he definitely had a drink too much or just a little too much self-confidence to flirt so shamelessly.

"You're not any woman." he winked.

You raised your eyebrows and nodded with an amused smile. "Oh, is that so?" you chuckled lightly.

"You're here with someone?" he asked, leaning closer. You immediately brought some more space between the two of you again, "I am, actually."

"Well, then where are they?" he asked with a grin that told you he didn't believe you. "Right here." you could hear Mando's deep, modulated voice. Your heart made a little jump when you turned your head and saw him walking straight towards you.

If looks could kill, this wannabe bounty hunter would be six feet underground by now. Mando's jaw had clenched when he saw the stranger talk to you. His jealousy stewing at the mere thought of another man looking at you this way. He’d been ready to stomp up to him and place a good, hard punch right at this fool's flirtatious face.

"Me'bana?" Mando asked, looking at you. His hand naturally found its place on your waist.

"Nothing," you leaned a little closer to him, "Kaysh mirsh solus."

Mando's light, breathy laugh made you almost turn into a puddle. 'He's an idiot.' you'd told him in Mando's native tongue, so the stranger in front of you wouldn't understand.

You had learned it when you started to accompany Mando. He was confused at first, to say at least, as to why you'd wanted to actually learn the language. But you wanted to get to know Mando, that included his native tongue. And besides, it was fun, sitting in the razor crest next to him, Grogu on your lap, learning to speak and read the extraordinary language of your Mandalorian.

"Hey, just so you know," said one started again, "Unalike that tin can there, I can show my face whenever, my lips too." he smirked. His obvious confusion about the two of you speaking in a language he'd never heard but knew must've been Mando'a.

You politely declined his request, slowly getting annoyed. "Thank you very much, but I actually really like the tin can right here."

Mando wanted to kiss you so bad, show you off as his, but he couldn't. That's just how it was, he couldn't take off his helmet. He was proud of his religion, it was part of him. You'd probably wouldn't even let him take it off, even if he tried. That was one of the many reasons he loved you so deeply. You respected his religion, tried to understand and learn about it.

And he could always take it off when the two of you were back in the privacy of the razor crest. He loved the curious look on your face every time he did, as if it was the first time you've seen his face.

But the truth was, that you were enamored with his features, the patchy beard paired with the mustache, his brown eyes and the brown curls… You could just never get enough of him.

Even before you two were married, you always loved to play with the ends of his fluffy hair, whenever it was getting longer once again. It was never much, but enough.

He had other ways to make sure everyone, especially the fool in front of you, knew you belonged to him.

"We need to look for our child." he was well aware that people believed he meant a human child when he referred to Grogu as "child" or "kid".

The look on the boy's face made a smug smile appear on Din's face, carefully hidden by the beskar helmet. He was so satisfied with himself, you could practically feel it spill over, and you didn't even need to see his face for it. You just chuckled quietly.

"Next time," Mando said, "watch who you talk to. My wife is off limits, understand?" his voice cold, almost threatening.

The eyes of the stranger widened, hearing the title.

You took Mando's gloved hand from where it was still firmly placed on your waist, and intertwined your fingers with his.

"C'mon, let's go," you smiled up at your riduur. You turned back around to address the guy, trying to sound nice, "It was nice meeting you."

With that, you left him sitting there, Mando‘s grip on your hand tightening in a protective manner, as you left the cantina.

When you were back at the ship, you could see Grogu fast asleep in his pod, "He's the most adorable thing I've ever seen." you say to Mando, looking at the little being with a look of pure love. Mando‘s heart warmed at the sight of you and Grogu. His little odd family.

"Even more than you getting all jealous of that guy back in the cantina." you grinned at him teasingly.

Mando stepped closer to you, his hands on your hips once again. You slung your arms around his neck.

"I wasn‘t-" but he interrupted himself, he was jealous, so much so that he would've loved to take his blaster out of the holster, even if it was just for show. "I was protecting my aliit." Family. You could barely get your fastening heartbeat under control, no matter how many times he'd say it. "I'm all yours, Din."

"Good." he said, and lowered his head. You could feel the cold beskar of his helmet touch your forehead. A Mandalorian kiss. You loved when he showed you his love that way. You closed your eyes, just soaking up the moment. You couldn‘t see it, but Mando had also closed his eyes, his hands still on your waist, he tried to memorize every little detail about this, about you.

After some time, spent taking the other in, after savoring the intimacy, you could hear a content sigh voice through his modulator.

"I'll look after you, always." His hand wandered to your cheek and cupped it gently. “And trust me,” he huffed, "I won't let anyone flirt with my wife like that, cyar'ika."

You grinned up at him. You couldn't wait to be all alone with him, leaving Grogu in the cockpit to sleep, and kiss him. Oh, how badly you just wanted to give his lips a little peck. You settled for wrapping your arms tightly around his armored middle, pressing yourself against his chest.

Mando's arms around your shoulders, he leaned his helmet against your hair. Even if all you could feel was his armor, it was still him. Your Mandalorian. Your husband. "I love you, mesh'la." the modulator had barely picked it up. He'd whispered it into your hair, like he couldn't believe that you were his. That he had the privilege to be the one to hold you… to love you. And to be loved by you.

"You know," you started smiling at him innocently, „since the baby's asleep, I thought you could show me how much. I mean, just so I know-"

"Haav." he interrupted you, his voice low, "Now." This was no plead, no, a demand. You chuckled and started walking to the makeshift bed you shared with him.

Behind you, you could hear him taking off his helmet, and you could barely hold in your excitement to finally see his face again. You had really missed it, although you've just seen him this morning before getting up. His armor followed next, a second later you could feel his arms wrap themselves around you. "Too many clothes." he whispered into your ear, his voice clear without the modulator. It gave you goosebumps all over your body, "Take them off then.".

Mando‘a translations:

ner = my, mine

riduur = partner, spouse, husband, wife

Me‘bana? = What‘s happening? What happened?

Kaysh mirsh solus = He‘s an idiot (lit. His brain cell is lonely)

cyar‘ika = darling, sweetheart

mesh‘la = beautiful

aliit = clan name, identity, family

haav = bed

🩶taglist: @alexxavicry @kittenlittle24 @hereforfics124 @Snow30285 @cl16version

#the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian reader insert #the mandalorian x f!reader #the mandalorian #grogu my beloved #star wars #star wars fanfiction #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x reader #jealousy #pedro pascal #fluff #em's masterlist

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hyperactively-me · 11 months

Text

sharing a bed

He turns his head at your suggestion, clearly thinking of it. “Or I could leave” you mumble, leaning on the side of the wall. He’s still on the ground next to his bag diverting his gaze from your form. “Mando, I can just find a different place to stay–” “No.”

just wanted to ask you guys to please read this

(asks are open)

happy reading

warnings: none

“So…” you draw out, unsure of what to make of the situation.

Mando lets out an awkward cough, readjusting the heavy bag hanging over his shoulder.

The single bed stands out in the room like a bantha on Hoth, imposing on the comfortable, distant relationship between you and him.

He steps further into the room and drops the bag on the floor of the room. He looks back at you with his ever-stoic expression, unmoving.

Suddenly, he bends down to the floor, fumbling with the zipper on the bag. You watch as he slides it open with ease, large hands digging through the bag, rummaging around for something. You’re sure that he was only going through his bag because of the awkwardness of the situation, to divert from the topic.

“I’ll take the floor” he grunts out, voice strained. You gulp quietly, still standing at the threshold of the door.

“Uh, no. Mando…I don’t think that's going to be comfortable at all” you watch as he turns his head to you, an unreadable expression dons his demeanor. He continues to stare at you, silence permeating the air.

“Why don’t we share it, it's obviously big enough for the both of us” you suggest casually, not wanting to instigate tension in the already tense atmosphere. He stiffens at the thought, hands abruptly halting from their movement.

Well this is just great! You’ve made him uncomfortable, way to go! you think to yourself, internally beating yourself up over your words.

“Unless it's the helmet…” you stumble out, timidly stepping through the threshold and into the small bedroom. “I can cover my eyes somehow” you twist your hands together, unsure of what to say.

He turns his head at your suggestion, clearly thinking of it.

“Or I could leave” you mumble, leaning on the side of the wall. He’s still on the ground next to his bag diverting his gaze from your form.

“Mando, I can just find a different place to stay–”

“No.”

You stand there, gawking at him. His sudden, forceful tone shakes you to your core, his authoritative nature coming out in full force. Your face reddens a bit from this singular word, your brain racking through all of his meanings and insinuations.

“No, I mean…”

He clenches his hands together, his leather gloves creaking from his actions. He stands up abruptly, a small sigh crackling through the modulator of his helmet. You push the door behind you closed and lean on it gently, waiting for his response. He watches you carefully, studying your movement. He slowly walks up to you, bringing his hands up to his belt. The broadness of his shoulders eclipses your vision. You gulp nervously, awkwardly standing in front of him.

“I- ‘m fine with it” he draws out, fidgeting with the belt loops around his fingers.

“All right then” you say matter of factly, brushing past him quickly, averting your face from his view.

You kick off your shoes and shed your jacket, tossing it carelessly on top of Mando’s bag. You pull back the covers of the bed and plop down onto the mattress with a sigh. Mando slowly moves his way towards the bed, shedding his own armor and boots, methodically and thoughtfully. He concentrates on the way he handles his chestplate, gently placing it down near his bag. He does the same for his shoulder plates and leg armor, again placing it quietly next to his chestplate. You lay back slightly, watching him as he strips down to only his underclothes, a soft black shirt and dark pants.

“About the helmet…I have a cloth for your eyes–” he articulates, jumbled by the premise of the situation.

“Oh, of course, I’m sorry–”

“No, it's not your fault–”

“Really, I could just, if you’re uncomfortable with removing the helmet I could–”

“No” he presses out once more, his voice assertive and strained. “Just, put this on. Please” he nearly begs, internally crumbling from the awkwardness of the situation.

He holds out the dark cloth in his now bare hand. His hand is calloused, skin a tanned, golden honey. Your hand brushes his as you take it, skin brushing against skin. You meticulously tie the dark fabric around your eyes, blocking the world out from vision, plunging into darkness. You lean back fully in the bed, your legs straight as a pin under the covers.

You hear the hiss of his helmet disengaging, a sound you’ve only heard once or twice before. Your breathing speeds up, afraid of breaching his trust by somehow messing up, even with the blindfold on. The helmet sounds heavy and hollow as he sets it down. The mattress dips underneath you as he climbs into the bed, his breathing shallow. You hear him gulp, his muscles tensing under the sheets. Keeping your eyes open becomes a battle of its own, and you succumb to slumber as you hear the steady breathing of Mando beside you.

When you open your eyes, you feel something heavy draped over your back. As you stumble into consciousness, you remember the night before, Mando reluctantly climbing into bed with you. Your breathing picks up, shaking any ounce of sleepiness from your mind. As you begin to sit up, his arm shifts around your torso, pulling you towards him and into his side.

“Mando” you hiss out, face reddening at his unconscious actions.

“Mando, wake up” you say louder this time, feeling extremely uncomfortable in this position. His grip on you tightens slightly, your face smushed into his side.

You hear him groan out in acknowledgement, stuck between the state of dreamland and consciousness. His hands flex, a sharp inhale escapes his unmodulated lips. You begin to struggle under his arms, thinking of all the accusations he could make up, thinking of the awkwardness to follow from this night, thinking he might just leave you behind at some outpost after this whale incident. All of a sudden, he shoots straight up, shoving you away from him with a strong force.

You’re nearly thrown off the side of the bed, a small shriek escaping your lips at the unanticipated action. You grip onto the sheets, holding yourself steady near what you presume is the edge of the bed. The blindfold only heightens your anxiety, the darkness providing no insight on what he was doing in the moment. You hear his breathing begin to even out, your own breath slowing down from the past few moments.

“Are you okay?” he huffs out, his voice so very clearly unmodulated, and it sounds wonderful.

You stutter out “Uh, yeah,” gulping at his words.

You hear the sound of his helmet engaging, a hiss emitting from the machinery. Your heart sinks a little, yearning for the sound of his voice to grace your ears for just a little longer.

“I’m sorry– You can take off the blindfold now” he stutters out, floundering around his words.

“Oh” you say stupidly, lifting your hands up to remove the cloth. Your eyes adjust to the bright light of the room, and you see Mando lifting himself out of the bed. You watch him as he hurriedly puts his armor on, rushing to fasten the clasps around his shoulders. He yanks his gloves on then picks up his bag, slinging it over his shoulder. You’re still sitting in the bed, a vacant expression hanging over your face as you watch him.

He looks over his shoulder and mutters out a quick “I’ll be ready outside when you’re ready” before throwing open the door and walking straight out of the room.

“...Okay then” you say, pushing yourself off the bed, a shade of red painting your face.

- - - - -

You lay in bed, eyes drooping, drowsy from sleepiness. You turn onto your back, stretching your legs and arms, a soft groan eliciting from your lips. Your eyes open a bit wider as a figure enters your vision.

Din.

A smile erupts from your face and you stretch your arms out towards him as he stalks over to the edge of the bed. You look up to him, your eyes raking over his form quickly. He’s wearing a soft black shirt with matching pants, and a small smile paints his face. The mattress dips under his weight as he gently climbs into the bed.. He crawls into your open arms, laying partially on top of you. You clasp your arms around his torso, drawing a contented sigh out from Din.

You bring one hand up to his hair, raking your fingers through his dark, curly locks, slowly and methodically. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, his hot breath spanning your skin.

“You’re so soft” Din groans out from your neck, his hands tightening around your torso.

A warm feeling washes over you, your cheeks slightly blushing from the low timbre of his voice. His stubble scratches the skin between your neck and shoulder, tickling your skin. You bring your hands down to his face and lift his head up gently, forcing him to stare straight at you. His eyes are lidded, chin now resting on the soft skin of your stomach.

“Hi” you whisper.

“Hi” he whispers back, a lop-sided smile on his face.

A soft look washes over his face, and he drags himself up to lean in closer to your face.

“Can I kiss you?” he mutters, eyes darting back and forth between your lips and your eyes. You blush, a smile creeping up on you. He’s only a few inches away from your face, you can see every lineament and wrinkle of his skin, the gruff stubble on his face, his wiry mustache, his deep, dark, beautiful, brown eyes. He smells like sandalwood and greenery, the scent peppery and strong.

You lean in, closing the small gap between you two. You press your lips to his, inhaling at the contact. Your hands come up around his shoulders, tugging on him, trying to pull him up your body. His stubble scratches your chin in the finest way, his lips are so soft. Din draws his body farther up yours, pushing you deeper into the bed, the mattress pressing down on both sides of your form. He bites your lip, slowly pulling away as he breaks contact.

It’s like he’s floating above you, the dim light haloing his hair. You’re both breathing hard, flustered from the intimacy of the kiss. Suddenly, he grabs onto you and flips you over, a small gasp erupting from your lips. You’re on top of him, well partly on top of him, and he’s looking at you like you’re everything to him. His eyes widen and your heart flutters, a full blown grin displayed on his face. You put your hands on his shoulders, steadying your position on top of him. You smile back at him, snuggling into his chest. A deep inhale slips away your lips, taking in his scent.

“Hard to believe you’re a big, scary, bounty hunter when you’re so cuddly like this” you beam, staring at nothing in particular.

He lets out a raspy chuckle, hands coming up to rest on your back.

“Yeah, hard to believe” he huffs out, rubbing your back slowly.

You sigh, content, allowing the atmosphere of peace and tranquility, softness and love, to consume you.

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theetherealbloom · 1 year

Text

THE SILVER LINING — SERIES MASTERLIST

Summary: After aiding the Republic and the fall of the Empire, you left the Jedi Training Clan on Bogden 3 to help families in need of medical care with the call of the Force. You are a kind, warm-hearted healer on Nevarro, treating the citizens and albeit the bounty hunters as well. Imperial remnants still linger in the shadows, waiting to strike at the perfect moment. Leading you to assist the Mandalorian with rescuing the Child has somehow led you to your biggest adventure yet.

Paring: Din Djarin x Empath!FemReader

Warnings: Violence, Age–Gap Romance, Angst, FLUFF, Eventual SMUT, Swearing, PTSD, Depression, Anxiety, Crying, Suggestive content, Flirting, People pleasing, Flattery, Blood, Blasters, War, Religion References, Aliens, Sith, Character Deaths

Main Song: Everywhere I Go by Sleeping At Last

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

CONTENTS:

SEASON 1

Chapter 1: The Mercury Keeps Rising

Chapter 2: Our Magnetism To Recklessness

Chapter 3: I Could Be Your Sacrifice

Chapter 4: What It Means To Be Saved

Chapter 5: Closing In

Chapter 6: Coming Soon...

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djaren #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x jedi!reader #din djarin x empath!reader #din djarin x fem!reader #din djarin x jedi!readerseries #The Silver Lining Series #din djarin fluff #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #din djarin fanfiction #The Silver Lining #The Silver Lining The Mandalorian Series #din djarin #baby yoda #din and grogu #pedrostories

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justsomerandomfanfic · 1 year

Text

Family - Din Djarin X GN Reader

Title: Family

Din Djarin X GN Reader

Additional Characters: Grogu

Drabble

WC: 500

Warnings: Maybe a bit bittersweet

You hummed softly as you held Grogu in your lap, letting his little grabby hands pull at your hair, making a mess of the strands that you had brushed earlier. You smiled as he giggled happily when he managed to grab a handful, twisting it around his little fingers. "Will you miss us?" You asked the child, who squeaked in return looking up at you with his big eyes. You nodded, smiling sadly, "Silly of me to ask that. Of course, you will." He cooed softly at that, reaching out to place his little hands on your cheeks.

His little fingers were soft against your cheek. You were going to miss him so much. He was like your own son. No, he was your son. He was your baby. He was yours and Din's baby. You were both going to miss him so much. You would miss his smile, his laugh, his cute little noises, his cuddles, kisses, and his hugs. Even if you and Din were able to visit... It didn't matter, because you already missed him so much.

He looked up at you, his large eyes shimmering with tears. His little lip quivered slightly but he kept them at bay. He couldn’t cry now. Not in front of you. If he cried, you would start crying. And then you wouldn't be able to stop. Grogu waddled closer to your lap, resting his head on your chest as you wrapped your hands around him, leaning down to nuzzle your face into his head gently.

Din watched after he climbed down the ladder, pausing at the beautiful scene before him. His family. You hold his son close, his son holding tightly onto his shirt, his son looking up at you with those big eyes. Din felt his heart clench in his chest, the overbearing weight of knowing he'd have to leave his son behind settling heavily on his shoulders. He shook his head, trying to clear away the dark thoughts clouding his mind. The last thing they needed right now was another sad moment. He needed to focus on the positive, that is, how happy you two looked and to enjoy the time he did have with Grogu.

Din wandered over, standing close beside you as he placed a warm hand on Grogu's back, making him babble. Din turned to you, his brown eyes soft. "What did he say?" He asked you as you continued to smile.

"Grogu said he misses you. You've been gone for a while." You answered, and Din hummed, turning back to his son.

"I've been charting our course, we'll arrive in two cycles." He explained to you, and you hummed in response.

"At least we'll have two more cycles together." You smiled, as Grogu reached out to Din, who immediately took him in his arms, cradling him securely against himself.

“Yes,” Din spoke up softly, peering down at Grogu with a small smile. “We will.” You simply smiled back, resting your head on Din’s shoulder.

#the mandalorian #the mandolarian #x reader #x gn reader #x you #x y/n #star wars #drabble #drabbles #din djarin #din and grogu #din djarin x reader #din djarin x gn reader #fluff #cute #slight angst #din djarin x you #din djarin x y/n #mando

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prettypiscesgal · 1 year

Text

Just call my name - Din Djarin

Summary: After Mando suffers a head injury, you’re quick to go help, even though he denies he needs it

Warnings: none

Listen while reading:

Ain’t no mountain high enough - Marvin Gaye, Tammi Terrell

“Mando!” You shout, watching him lay on the ground, groaning in pain, his head was lolling back and forth as if trying to keep himself conscious.

He managed to take down the bounty, but not without taking a few blows. You watched as he collapsed on the floor once he completed the bounty. Now, you were sprinting towards him.

“Mando.” You say, collapsing on your knees beside him and shaking his shoulders. “Come on, time to get up. The kid has been whining for you.” You say, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and helping him up.

He groans as you bring him to his feet before he pushes away from you, “M’fine.” He gruffly replies, straightening himself out.

You scoff at him. He always just wants to seem so tough. You know he took a hard blow to the head, you only hope it’s not too bad. You don’t know how to treat it when you couldn’t take off his helmet. “Mando.. You’re stumbling around. Just let me help.”

“N-no, it’s fine.” He stutters out, stumbling towards the ship. “Just need to take a lil nap..”

He sounds drunk and you’re nervous. Why’d he always have to be so stubborn? “Mando, you’re not fine. And you can’t go to sleep, you could have a concussion.”

“Pfft. Concussion? Nuh-uh” You almost want to laugh at how he tipsy he sounds. He turns around to look at you, motioning to himself, “I’m in perfect condition.”

“Really?” You cross your arms, raising your eyebrows.

“Yes. Watch.” He does a couple spins, as if that is supposed to prove anything. Then, he begins to fall toward, catching himself as you reach out, ready to catch him.

He giggles to himself and now you’re really concerned. Tired of his antics, you grab his hand and drag him towards the ship. He stumbles messily behind you, trying to keep up as you drag him.

Stepping onto the ship, you throw him into a chair and go search through the medicine cabinet. The most you can do is find some pills for him to take. You hear a soft cooing and turn around to find Mando on his stomach, feet kicking in the air and he plays with the kid.

“Aww, you’re so cute aren’t you?” He whispers to the little child, rubbing his ears as it happily coos.

You smile to yourself, pulling Mando up by his cape and plopping him back into the chair. Him and the child both whine at the fact you have broken them apart.

“Okay, I found some medicine I need you to take. It’s our best option. Do you have any other injuries?” You asks, wanting know if there is something you can treat without breaking his creed.

“No, ma’am.” He replies, you can hear the smile in his voice and if makes you flush.

“I’ll leave you alone to take it then. Do not fall asleep.” You point a stern finger at him. He nods once in reply.

You pick up the child on your way out, glancing back one more time before climbing into the cockpit. You hear him mutter what sounded like, “Night, mesh’la.”

“Mando?” You call out. No response.

You curse as you climb down from the cockpit. You hope he isn’t asleep, but you know deep down he probably is. You just hope his helmet is still on.

You thank Maker when you find him passed out, helmet still on, but at least the medicine is gone. You smile softly, walking over and shaking him.

“Mando?” You whisper, “C’mon, time to get up.”

He groans, shaking his head in protest before turning to look at you. You give him a soft smile, thankful that he isn’t dead.

“How’re you feeling?” You ask.

“Better.” He grumbles, seeming like his old self again, “Sorry about..”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s quite funny to see the big bad Mandalorian giggling and spinning around.”

He lets out an embarrassed chuckle and you know if you could see his face he would be beet red. “Yeah..”

“I’ll go get you some water.” You say, starting to walk away before a hand grabs onto you.

“Thank you.” He says softly, the softest you’ve ever heard him say anything. Your whole face flushes at the sudden intimacy.

“You’re welcome, Mando.” You mutter back at him sheepishly, eyes trained on his helmet as if you could see his eyes from underneath it.

“Din.” He replies.

“Gesundheit.” You reply, turning to leave again and he chuckles.

“No. Din. That’s my name.” You turn back to him in shock.

“What?” You gasp, running back over to him as he stands up on wobbly knees.

“Mando, why would you tell me that?” You rush out nervously, “Is that breaking your creed-”

“Shh.” He replies, cutting you off as he holds your arms, trying to calm you down. “Don’t worry about it, mesh’la”

“You said that last night.”

“Said what?”

“Mesh’la.” You murmur, looking up at his helmet and seeing your reflection in it, “What does it mean?”

He goes silent, just staring down at you. The only sense you have that he hasn’t knocked out again is his hands, which are now brushing down your arm to hold your hands in his. You look down at the gesture with a blushing face.

“Beautiful.” He finally speaks and it catches you offguard.

“Huh?”

“It means beautiful.” He admits, bringing your hand up to his helmet and holding it against where his cheek would be, sighing as if he could feel the touch.

“Are you sure you’re not shitting me and it actually means dickwad or something?” You whisper and smile brightly when you’re met with a deep chuckle.

“I would never lie about something like that.” He whispers in reply and you feel your face heat up. “You’re a little red. You alright?”

You can hear the teasing in his voice and you roll your eyes at him, “Fuck you, Din.”

“Not what I expected to hear when you first said my name, but it still sounds so good coming from you.” He admits and you’re not sure you could get anymore red.

“You know, you should get a concussion more often. It makes you such a romantic.” You tease him and he laughs, bringing his forehead to rest against yours, the cool metal a harsh contrast against your burning skin.

“As long as you take care of me after.”

“You know I always will. Just call my name, Din.”

“I always will, Y/N.”

#din djarin #the mandalorian #mando x you #mando x reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x y/n #mando x y/n #mandalorian x y/n #mandalorian x you #mandalorian fluff #din djarin fluff #grogu djarin #groguthechild #the mandalorian fluff #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader

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danaewrites · 3 months

Text

Helmet Over Heels

part i: the winter of our discontent

din djarin x reader // read it on AO3

word count: 3.8k

summary: When your path literally collides with a beskar-covered Mandalorian one night, neither of you expect how that meeting will irreversibly change the trajectory of your lives.

You’re pulled into his powerful orbit, agreeing to take care of his son in exchange for adventure and freedom– when he’s not off hunting bounties and inadvertently saving villages in need, that is. It’s the perfect plan. Or it would be, if only your quiet crush on the man would stop growing into something more with every hour you spend together. There’s no way he’d ever feel the same, right?

And Din? Well, he’s been trying (and failing) to convince himself that he’s not completely helmet over heels for you since day one. But a Mandalorian can only repress his emotions for so long…

(This fic takes place sometime after Season 2. Din’s back on his bounty-hunting business with a Razor Crest that was never destroyed and an adorable green sidekick who won’t stop chewing on its wires.)

tags: strangers to friends to lovers, slow-ish burn, nicknames, touch-starved din djarin and fem!reader, canon-compliant through season 2 and then Jesus takes the wheel :P

author's notes:

hello and welcome to my first ever mando fic!! i binged the entirety of the first two seasons in a week to get me through tedious internship work and accidentally fell in love with our favorite space dad and his cute green child along the way. oops (i regret nothing)

with the outline i currently have for this fic, it’ll be around 11-12 chapters, although that’s likely to grow as we get deeper into the story. the posting schedule might be anywhere from once a week to once a month, but this wip *will* be finished.

the second chapter's scheduled to upload next week as a little treat for y'all, so if you want to catch it then hit that follow button or ask to be added to my taglist! ;)

read it all here: part i, part ii, part iii, part iv, part v coming soon!

You watched the last of tonight’s drunken patrons stumble out of the cantina and into the bitter Nath night with a relieved sigh. Wiping your hands on the stained apron tied around your waist, you fished a set of bronze keys out of a tiny pocket and began your nightly walk around the perimeter of the bar, locking doors and pulling down rusty shutters as you went. The cantina was silent aside from your quiet shuffling– a welcome reprieve from its usual crowded bustle and chatter so hectic you could barely hear your own thoughts.

You hummed softly as you adjusted booths back to their original positions and swept crumbs off of battered tabletops, wishing that the small holospeaker at the edge of the room hadn’t been broken in a recent bar fight. Swaying to its pre-Imperial oldies throughout your long, exhausting shifts had been one of the only perks of working in this run-down cantina, but without the soothing ambience of music, a chill threatened to sink into your bones and paralyze you with the deep depression this side of the planet seemed to have succumbed to.

You never planned to stay here for as long as you had. No one really did, except for criminals who knew that no one would willingly come here to search for them and locals who had never known anything else. Nath might have been charming, once– all soft snowflakes and peaceful walks under sepia-toned streetlights– but that was before the Empire had destroyed every semblance of comfort and culture and replaced them with brutalist brick structures that were already crumbling under the weight of their makers’ crimes. The fear lingered long after the Imps had finally left the post, reflected in the sad eyes of the fishmongers’ children and the way one would be hard-pressed to find a factory worker who didn’t spend his nights nursing a bottle and the ghosts of blaster scars across his back.

You had your own scars, of course, but you still held out hope that things would change and you’d make it out of here– although that hope was gradually diminishing as off-world shuttles visited less and less frequently and the permanent winter worsened. Five years ago, you’d been unceremoniously dropped off at the town’s dingy port, forced to land after your shuttle to Corellia was damaged by an unexpected detour through an asteroid field. You’d taken the cantina job thinking you’d only stay long enough to pay for passage on an outgoing ship, but soon learned that any shuttle risking the terrible weather to land here would also charge an exorbitant boarding price– one that would take you years to afford with the meager pay you received. And your tentative plan of stowing away on a spice freighter and sneaking off once it arrived at its destination (you weren’t picky about where, so long as it wasn’t Nath) was tempered by the increasingly likelihood that you’d get blown to pieces the minute you entered space by one of the pirate gangs that ruled the atmosphere these days. So– you were stuck here, at least for now.

The smell of something burning in the back of the cantina drew you out of your thoughts. Cursing, you raced to the kitchen, where your dinner was quickly blackening on the stove. Kriff. You shut off the burner, staring at the charred mess before you for a few seconds before dejectedly scraping it into an almost-overflowing trash bin. Well, there went your plan to eat quickly and head to your tiny flat before the storm outside worsened. Your rental pod had barely enough space for your bed and a miniscule bathroom, so you had to use the cantina kitchen if you wanted to stay fed– but the stove here was so old, it took half an hour longer than usual to cook anything. You resigned yourself to another night sleeping in a booth, since the flurry outside would prevent you from navigating your way home safely.

You sliced up a few vegetables and set them to simmer in a pot with the last of the herbed broth and sandseed noodles from today’s lunch special, glancing at the bin next to you. It was probably a good idea to take out the foul-smelling waste before you were sealed in next to it all night. Wrinkling your nose at the unappealing scraps of food threatening to fall off the top of the pile, you hefted the bin up and maneuvered it through the back door of the cantina, being careful not to stain your apron any more than it already was. The harsh winds nipped at every sliver of exposed skin and dusted your hair with a pearlescent sheen of snow, making you wish you’d thought to slip on something warmer than your thin blouse and trousers before leaving the protection of the kitchen.

You navigated through the blizzard to the end of the dark alleyway behind the cantina, your path lit only by two buzzing lamps at each end of the narrow corridor. You scrunched your face up against the cold, willing yourself to keep walking despite your extremely limited night vision. Just a few more steps, and then you’d be free of your compostable burden for the night. You turned the corner, stepping to the left where you knew the trash compactor was, and immediately collided with a giant hunk of metal.

Said hunk of metal cursed loudly as it stumbled head-first over the garbage bin you’d dropped in shock after the impact, falling forward into the snow. “Dank ferrik!”

Your eyes grew wide as the glow of the flickering streetlights illuminated the very-much-alive Mandalorian lying in front of you. It was just your luck that you’d managed to potentially injure the kind of warrior you’d only heard about in hushed rumors, or at least someone who was wearing the armor of one. Okay, injure was a strong word, but all that cold, hard beskar couldn’t be very comfortable to fall on despite the protection it offered.

“Stars, I’m so sorry, let me–”

You reached forward, stretching out a hand to help the Mandalorian up when a small green head suddenly popped up out of a tawny bag slung across their side. You yelped in surprise, losing your balance on the icy road and toppling forward. You winced, bracing yourself and preparing for the inevitable impact– except right as you were about to hit the ground, one steel-clad arm shot out to grab your wrist while the other steadied your hips. You gasped at the warmth of the unexpected contact, pulse quickening as you stared at the–man? person?–beneath you, the only thing preventing you from a nasty collection of bruises appearing across your side tomorrow.

A deep baritone sounded from the helmet– likely modulated, from the slightly grainy tone. “Are you alright?”

Definitely a man, then. You pointedly ignored the butterflies that stirred to life in your stomach at the sound of his voice, praying that he would attribute your shiver to the cold and nothing more. Stars, this was getting more embarrassing by the minute. You tucked away the thought, making a note to do some serious soul-searching later on about the depth of your touch-starvation and its potential impact on your mental state.

You gave a quick nod, muttering your thanks and carefully rolling to the side as you dusted clumps of snow off of your trousers. You looked up at him to see him gently picking up the little green creature you’d been so startled by earlier and tucking it back into the bag, pulling his cloak over its head to shield it from the chill. That was… rather cute, actually. You thought Mandalorians were supposed to be scary fighters, dedicated to nothing but their Creed, but this one was clearly fond of the small thing clinging to him. You couldn’t blame him; the green creature’s big ears and bug eyes were adorably endearing.

The cold winds picked up pace, and you wondered why anyone would be out here during such a storm as you got to your feet. Anyone local would have sought shelter hours ago, and no freighter would dare to land in such conditions.

“Are you... lost?” You tentatively asked. “Can I help you find someone?”

The Mandalorian remained silent for several long seconds, helmet tilted slightly. Whatever he saw in your face seemed to have settled well with him, and he released a quiet huff through the modulator.

“I need to get food. For my son,” he eventually admitted, gesturing to the baby peeking up at you.

“Oh!” You brightened up considerably as you remembered the flavorful soup you’d started earlier. “Well– I work in a cantina back there,” you said, pointing behind you at the rusted door that led to the kitchen.

“We’re technically closed right now, but I’m sure I can work something out.” You winked at the curious child, smiling as he let out a happy babble.

The Mandalorian’s helmet hadn’t moved from its focus in your direction, and you suddenly felt nervous. Which seemed stupid, because–yeah, it felt intense, but was he even looking at you from behind the dark visor of his helmet? For all you knew, he was making the most ridiculous expression at you behind all that beskar and you’d never know. The absurd thought made you snicker softly. If no one could see your face, you’d definitely act goofy at people all the time.

The Mandalorian’s head tilted slightly, and whoops, he’d definitely noticed your little moment now if he hadn’t been paying attention before. Your face reddened and you quickly gestured for him to follow you as you unlocked the door to the kitchen, relieved when you heard the soft clink of his armor come through the doorway behind you.

You placed your hands on your hips, surveying the dimly lit cantina and deciding to lead the duo to a worn table close to the bar. It looked unassuming, but the chairs were the comfiest in the cantina and you figured the baby would appreciate something softer than the coarse bag he’d been in.

Once they’d gotten settled in, you set about finding a mug of blue milk for the kid and some water for the Mandalorian. You brought the drinks over to the pair, hiding a smile at how eagerly the little green baby reached for his.

“You’re pretty thirsty, huh?” You observed as the baby slurped up the cerulean beverage. Shooting the tall, beskar-clad man a glance out of the corner of your eye, you continued, “Must have been quite the trip. Most people don’t usually travel to this side of the galaxy for vacation.”

To your disappointment, the Mandalorian remained as still and stoic as ever. Well, that just wouldn’t do. He was your first visitor in years from anywhere outside of Nath, and you were absolutely not letting him leave without getting a bit of juicy detail on life outside of your current drudgery. You decided to go for another angle.

“You know, kids need good role models in their lives. Ones that show them how to socialize with others and communicate. Display generosity of the loquacious sort, even.” You shrugged innocently in your best attempt to mimic the overly casual air the old women at the tea shop always used before passive-aggressively attempting to set you up with their stay-at-home-nephews. “Never too late to start.”

You got the distinct feeling that he was laughing at you under that helmet. Rude. Huffing, you sat down across the table from him and crossed your arms, trying to guess where under his visor his eyes were. Once you were half-confident that you’d found the spot, you stared intensely at it with your most intimidating expression. Which wasn’t saying much, seeing as you had the firepower of a soggy Lothkitten and probably came off as more desperate than anything.

“Isn’t there some sort of honor code for Mandalorians? One that includes being noble to strangers and whatnot?”

No response. Argh.

“Well, I’d consider it pretty noble to provide a lonely soul such as myself with a bit of storytelling entertainment on this frigid evenin–”

Your final attempt at prying some information out of the armored man was interrupted by the sound of the kitchen timer beeping increasingly louder and louder until you were sure the whole cantina was vibrating with the tinny noise.

“KRIFF, not again!”

You bolted out of your seat towards the kitchen, but not before you heard a thinly disguised huff of amusement coming out of the modulator. Okay, he was definitely laughing at you.

Once you’d successfully saved the soup from imminent destruction-via-cursed-stove and somewhat regained your pride, you finally made your way back to the table with three steaming bowls of noodles. You placed the smallest one in front of the child, who cooed happily and immediately began plopping his hands in the bowl. The Mandalorian huffed in exasperation and began prying little green fingers out of the bowl. “Hey. Quit that, we talked about this,” he grumbled. You winced as broth sloshed out of the bowl, landing dangerously close to the baby’s tunic. The kid’s lower lip started to tremble, a blaring warning sign that a tantrum was going to occur in approximately ten seconds if he wasn’t distracted from his current petulant state.

“Oh– hey, bug, don’t do that,” you said as both father and son turned to look at you. You leaned closer to the wide-eyed baby and pointed to his bowl. “That’s pretty hard to scoop up, yeah? Look, there are easier ways to eat it,” you explained as you brought the bowl up to your lips and raised an eyebrow, hoping that he would do the same. The kid blinked up at you for several long seconds before turning to his father with outstretched hands. The Mandalorian sighed, but held up the dish as requested. You hid a smile behind your bowl at the sight.

“Good job! Okay, now we’re going to try something fun–” You mimed slurping up the soup with a silly face at the baby, who burbled something incomprehensible in response but finally followed your example and focused on his food.

When you were sure that the baby’s clothes were no longer in danger of being drenched by broth– and by extension, frozen stiff whenever the pair headed back into the storm–you quietly tucked into your own meal, closing your eyes at the warm memories the comforting flavours brought. Not for the first time, you missed the earthy smell and placid weather of your homeworld, a stark contrast to this icy prison of a planet.

“You are… good with him.”

Your eyes darted up to find the Mandalorian’s helmet angled directly at you. Your face heated at the observation and you gave a small laugh, willing yourself to resist fidgeting under his gaze.

“I– thank you, I’ve always liked kids. Used to volunteer in the nursery back home, actually, before the Empire stole every resource from it they could.”

Your eyes widened with sudden realization. “You’re not Imperial, are you?”

The Mandalorian scoffed vehemently, the most emotion he’d displayed since he’d fallen back in the alley. “No.”

Well, that answered a few questions at least. You were prepared to move on from the conversation when he hesitantly spoke, “My ship ran into a few… asteroids. Is there a mechanic nearby?”

You set down your spoon, thinking. The closest asteroid field was four solar systems away and almost entirely inaccessible if one was traveling through hyperspace, so the likelihood that he’d truly run into one was small. In that case, he probably had damage from some kind of fight— seeing as the average pacifist wouldn’t need that much armor— and would want someone reliable who wasn’t going to ask questions about laser-sized holes in his ship’s hull.

He hadn’t tried to kill or rob you yet, so you figured his personal tussles were none of your business and decided to give him an honest recommendation. You directed him to a small mechanical hub close to the ice huts where there were few ships and even fewer nosy citizens. “The owner, Sanna, is the best in town,” you admitted. “I haven’t had the chance to visit her personally, but she’s known for being very discreet.”

He nodded, entering the coordinates you’d given him into some sort of device on his wrist. You tried to contain your pleased expression at correctly guessing his reason for being on Nath. And it had only taken you… well, four tries, but that was better than nothing!

“What is your price?”

You blinked, confused. “My price?”

There was that increasingly frequent head tilt again. His helmet tipped forward, scanning you. “For the food. And information.” He clarified slowly.

“Oh,” you spoke, surprised. “It’s okay, I was making dinner for myself anyway. And you’d have found out the location of the mechanic from someone else eventually,” you shrugged.

You couldn’t see his face, but from the disbelieving tone of his voice you imagined his eyebrows to be raised. “Not many people would turn down credits.”

You winced, reminded of your costly dream to get off-world, but there was no way you’d accept this stranger’s money for such a small favor when he had a kid he needed to provide for. “Yeah, well. Guess I’m not most people,” you laughed sheepishly.

The Mandalorian muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like no, you definitely are not. You squinted at him accusingly.

“Hey, you better not be making fun of my interrogation tactics, metal man.” You leaned forward to poke his soup bowl emphatically. Hm, that was strange– he hadn’t so much as touched it. Did Mandalorians follow some kind of special diet? You resolved to look that up the next time you had access to a datapad.

“Wouldn’t dream of doing that to a lonely soul like yourself.” He responded dryly.

You gasped in mock offense, forgetting your previous train of thought and internally groaning that he’d remembered that part of your disastrous attempt to weasel information out of him. Yeesh. Not your most eloquent moment. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you cared,” you shot back in the most syrupy-sweet tone you could muster.

The kid grinned up at you with sharp teeth and blew a soupy bubble towards your face in response. You smiled down at him, adding, “But if you really want to repay me, then bring me back a good story about this little guy the next time you crash land through a— what did you call it? Asteroid field.” You highly doubted the duo would ever willingly return, but if making a deal gave this man peace of mind to know his imaginary debt was settled in some future way then so be it.

The lights in the cantina began to flicker and you got up with a frown, walking over to the electrical box behind the bar. The dull grey display, crammed with incomprehensibly labelled switches and flashing lights that would give anyone a headache, alerted you that the main generator had been depleted of power. You scrambled over to a window, prying open the shutters a crack only to be met with a dark swirl of snow that completely obscured your view of the street. Stars, the storm had worsened quickly— there was absolutely no chance you were making it home tonight. You slammed the shutter closed and turned around with a grimace that didn’t go unnoticed by the Mandalorian.

“What is it?” He questioned, modulated voice growing wary at the expression on your face.

“We’re running out of power, the main generator’s down from the storm so these lights are going to have to shut off soon. I think there’s enough in the emergency generator to heat the cantina through the night, though.” You hesitated, not sure how to break the bad news. “Unfortunately, the weather is— unmanageable. You’re not making it out of here to the mechanic’s until the blizzard lets up.”

He didn’t respond for a few seconds, so you continued talking. “I was.. planning on sleeping here tonight.” You muttered, trying to think of a plan. You glanced at the sleepy child resting on the Mandalorian’s beskar chest plate. “I usually keep a couple blankets here for that reason— pretty sure there’s enough to cover the baby, but you might need to be okay with sharing.”

You worried your bottom lip between your teeth, searching your memory for where the emergency supplies were kept. Kriff. How were you supposed to know that you’d be snowed in, and with guests no less? Your grumpy boss really should have put instructions for this type of situation in the closing shift directions instead of the usual “sweep the floors” or your personal favorite: “if the customer creates a corpse, they gotta clean it up themselves”.

The Mandalorian interrupted your musings with a firm, “No need,” gesturing to the charcoal cloak fastened around his pauldrons. You eyed it dubiously, but supposed that the material looked thick enough. That was probably to your benefit, anyway, since you were something of a notorious blanket hog and didn’t think he’d take kindly to having his sheets ripped off him in the dead of night. That seemed like a quick way to wake up with more bruises than you went to sleep with.

“Well— alright then,” you sighed at last, tossing the smaller of your blankets to the man and tucking the other into the side of a nearby booth. “I’ll shut off the lights in a moment. Refresher’s that way, if you need it,” you pointed to the end of a dimly lit hall. The Mandalorian nodded once, then returned his attention to carefully cocooning the child in his lap. You set to work fluffing up your own makeshift bed, folding the cleanest dishtowel you could find into a pillow before trudging over to the light switch and enveloping the room in darkness.

Quietly feeling your way back to your booth, your eyes adjusted to the pitch-black little by little. You pulled your hair out of its messy updo and curled up on the seat, body slowly relaxing. It was strange, hearing the muffled rhythm of breaths coming from lungs that weren’t your own, but oddly soothing in its own way.

“G’night,” you mumbled, half-asleep already, consciousness swirled down the psychological drain by the overpowering storm raging outside. The lull-and-hitch of the baby’s soft snores echoing off of solid beskar set you drifting off to sleep faster than you had as a child, so lost to the world that you were sure you dreamed the quiet, belated whisper that sounded back to you.

taglist: @magpiencrow @that-kid143 @lilly-aliyah @itmustbegreattobecalledtheitgirl

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read on: part ii

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theidiotwhowritesthings · 1 year

Text

AFS: Deleted Scene

a/n: I'm testing a new thing here. There are a few scenes that I wanted to include in the story but there wasn't a good spot to fit it in and keep my plotlines at a good pace. SO, I will be posting the occasional deleted scene! They'll typically be short little drabbles that I post sporadically and I'll always list a number to kind of tell you where it sits in the 'AFS' timeline lol

Din Djarin x Female!Reader

Warnings: none, just pure fluffy fluff

Word Count: 1,101

Summary: Grogu is an artist and he does not restrict himself to a single medium. Inspired by this post/art.

#4.5: HE IS A QUICK ONE

You hummed a song under your breath while cleaning the kitchen. Mando had told you time and time again that house work wasn’t necessarily part of your job description. Though you didn’t think was accurate. You didn’t know a lot about the responsibilities of a nanny, but if you were a betting woman you’d put credits on housework falling under the umbrella. So, despite him telling you to leave it be, you didn’t. Even if it wasn’t the job of the nanny to clean the house, you lived here as well which meant it was in part your responsibility as a roommate, at the very least. Mando could argue otherwise all he wanted. It’s not like he could stop you while he worked.

While Grogu napped, you took the opportunity to clean what you could.

The sound of a quiet giggle made you pause. You rinsed the soap off your hands, leaving the few dishes you had left to clean in the sink, and used the kitchen towel you rested on your shoulder to dry your hands. Another giggle drifted from the hall. Grogu must have woken up from his nap. You chuckled to yourself and tossed the towel aside to go find him. Usually the boy called out for you when he woke up.

Down the hall, you spotted Grogu and it took you a second to recognize what the boy was keeping himself busy with. He stood crayon in hand as he worked on his masterpiece⏤ the masterpiece he was drawing on the wall.

“Grogu!” You cried, startled.

Grogu simply turned to look at you with his little toothy grin. “See!”

He must have woken from his nap a good while ago because the kid had made quite the progress. The entire wall was decorated in his scribbled drawings in various colors. You spotted multiple pictures of his father and him. You recognized the other colored Mandalorian that filled many of his pictures, with the dark haired person beside him, and a few other familiar faces. Peli. Cara. Karga. Your eyes landed on a scribbled drawing of what looked like you with Grogu in your arms. It was honestly the cutest most precious thing in the world and your heart would be overflowing with love if it wasn’t for the location of the art.

“Oh, Grogu, why?” You breathed.

“Good?” He asked.

You gave him a sheepish smile. “Well, you drew it all so good, buddy, but…the wall…”

Grogu’s eyes widened and he shook his head. “Ih.” He motioned for you to follow him with one hand and you trailed after him into Mando’s bedroom. Grogu pointed to the wall where you had taped a few of his art pieces. “See!”

“Right. But that’s paper that I…” You winced. You held your arms out to scoop the little artist up. He looked immensely proud of himself and you hated the idea of scolding him. “We can’t draw on the walls anymore though, alright?” If Grogu understood or agreed he made no motion to show it. You sighed and tickled the boy’s belly, mumbling under your breath. “I wonder how attached your dad is to his walls.”

Mando’s voice called out from the foyer and you grimaced. The hallway was still decorated in crayon. You had tried to wipe some of it away, but the moment you got near it Grogu whined at you to stop. Apparently he wanted his father to admire the work. You hurried to meet Mando in the foyer before he could get any further.

“Hi there.” You held your hands out to stop him.

“Hey.” He greeted curiously.

You forced a grin that you prayed didn’t look sheepish. “So, how was work?”

“Good…” Mando paused. “How was your day?”

“Uh, interesting.” You scrunched your nose. “We may have had a little…incident.” Mando stiffened and you quickly shook your head and hands at him. “No, no. Grogu is fine. He’s more than fine. Grogu is very proud of himself.”

“Oh.” Mando replied.

“Buir, k’olar! K’olar!” Grogu bounced behind you and waved for him to follow. You motioned to the child with your arms and Mando gave you one last confused tilt of his head before listening to Grogu’s pleads. You walked behind him nervously. When the three of you entered the hall, the mischievous artist pointed to the wall covered in crayon. “See!”

Mando stayed stock still for a second and you blurted a panicked apology, “I am so sorry, Mando. I thought he was napping and I was washing dishes and I heard his little, evil giggle and when I found him he was drawing on the wall⏤ I tried to clean it up but he wouldn't let me⏤”

Your words were interrupted with the sound of a full bellied laugh. Mando was laughing loudly and freely. There had been moments of chuckles and breathy laughs, but this was the first time you had seen him so carefree in front of you. A small smile curled onto your features in admiration. Mando knelt down to hold out his arms so Grogu could jump into them.

“Good?” Grogu asked.

“Very nice, ad’ika.” Mando praised him. “I’ll send a picture to Boba and Fennec. I think they’d really love to see it.” You crossed your arms and watched in amusement as the boy pointed at each piece of the picture to babble to him an explanation. Mando nodded and hummed along⏤ paying full attention. When Grogu had reached the end, Mando ruffled the top of his head. “Alright, womp rat, I saw your toys in the living room still. Why don’t you go clean up?”

Grogu chirped an acknowledgement and waddled away. Mando turned to face you and you shook your head. “I hung some of his pictures up on your bedroom wall and I guess he decided to cut out the middleman and get right to it.”

Mando chuckled. “It’s alright. Of all the messes I expect him to get into this is fairly mild.”

“I am sorry about your wall though. I should’ve been paying closer attention.”

“It’s just a wall.” Mando shrugged. “A boring one too. At least now I don’t have to bother with decorations. Cara always complained my house was too plain.” You laughed lightly. “Besides, you should see some of the things he’s gotten away with while I was actively watching him.”

“Oh yeah?” You teased. “He is a quick one.”

“You have no idea.” Mando sighed. “Over dinner, remind me to tell you about the Frog Lady’s eggs.”

“The what lady’s what?”

mando'a translations

Buir: Parent (father) /// Ad'ika: little one /// K'olar: Come here

tag list:

@aheadfullofsteverogers @yyiikes @kneelforloki @c-ms1ut @sgt-morgan @luthienaliceisilra @fawn-kitten @missbabyjay @coldlamaspersonspy @dilfsaremyfavourite @jamesbuckybarnes @yorkeylover @teawrites01 @emily-roberts @djarinxore @impala1967666 @shelbyteller @faithrenner @dindjarindude @dankfarrick29 @rh1nestonecowg1rl @garbo-lesbo @anythingforattention @tearfulsolace @onceinamando @catharinaroxastova @uwu-i-purple-you @modiddys-blog @harriedandharassed @stagerightlauren @mini-bees @xxinvisblexx @adoringanakin @sagegreensensei @spidey-3 @sydney-1209 @thepascalofus @hrtsforpascal @banana-lol @daybleedsintonightfall11 @lil-dragon-draws @guccistardust @ideajpeg @harriedandharassed @leithatnight @elfamosotoga @damnzelsoul @the-anchored-sailor-girl @morks-watermelon @katelynmarieyt @taylorann2013 @chonkercatto @dheet @liadamerondjarin @fallinallinmendes @missdicaprio

#the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #a fresh start #mando #mando x you #mando x reader #mandalorian x you #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian fanfic #fluff #fluffy fluff #grogu is a little adorable shit #precious child #must be protected #domestic bliss!din djarin

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tommysversion · 1 year

Note

After watching the season finale, I’m just imagining domestic din 🥲🥲 i can imagine him falling for grogus teacher, at the school he goes to when he’s not on missions with din. especially seeing how nurturing and caring she is with him. And they live happily together as a clan of three ( maybe more 👀)

Yessss oml how cute ???

He doesn’t expect much to come out of sending the kid to school, but he’s not so arrogant as to think he can teach him everything.

Sure, he can teach Grogu how to be a Mandalorian. How to fight, how to navigate, how to negotiate. He can tell him stories and legends from their culture, but at the end of the day, he’s probably not the best one to teach the kid how to read, write, and do math.

Not like he can’t, but he just doesn’t have the patience. Besides, it’ll be good for the kid to go to school. Make some friends. He’s still only learning how to talk, but maybe that’ll come with socialising with someone besides Din, who, let’s be honest, isn’t the most talkative of people.

Navarro has a school. Two, in fact, with the population increase. One for the younger kids, one for the older. The younger kids learn their letters, how to read, math, geography. They play sport in the courtyard and make wooden swords to play with in arts class. The older kids study history, maps, languages. Some take apprenticeships as blacksmiths or mechanics.

Honestly, Din isn’t sure what to make of it. His own education was spotty, taught by older members of the clan. He never had a formal education as such, so he doesn’t know what to expect of someone who makes educating younglings their profession.

He certainly doesn’t expect someone like you, who’s so patient and kind. While taken aback at first, he finds himself watching you. Noticing little things. How you don’t chastise the children who are a little louder, a little different. How you make time for each and every child under your care, treating them all as though they’re special, all equal.

Maybe he was a little worried Grogu wouldn’t receive that same kindness. He knows his son is different, in a variety of ways.

It doesn’t seem to bother you; you find a way to communicate, to understand the kid even though it’s difficult. Once he’s worked out his letters, you give him a little datapad to input words into, and it speaks for him. It’s limited - Grogu can only learn so fast, and he’s still very young - but basic phrases are still giant leaps.

With the help of his data pad, Grogu can introduce himself, say yes, no, please and thank you. The other kids stop being wary of him and invite him to play with them. It’s kind of cute, actually, watching a group of five year old human kids and Grogu playing some sort of ball game. One day Din shows up to collect him and they’re finger painting together, Grogu and a little boy and a little girl.

You just smile at him as he walks in, put their picture on the wall to dry.

“We learned a new word today.” You tell him, and Grogu taps his datapad.

“Hello, dad.” The artificial voice says.

While he’s still wearing his helmet, behind it, Din smiles.

It’s almost inevitable that he falls for you. Inevitable that you reciprocate. You’re bonded by caring for the same small, strange child who endears everyone to him.

When he asks you to live with them, he’s nervous. Expects you to refuse. Is elated when you say yes.

Once you’ve moved into the little house, the walls decorated with paintings Grogu has done with his friends, you’re standing outside together, watching the kid play in the shallow water nearby.

When he turns to you, hands on your waist, and you in turn go to hesitantly remove his helmet, he doesn’t stop you. He lets you, lets you set it aside before he leans in and presses a gentle kiss to your lips.

What was once a clan of two officially becomes a clan of three, and honestly? He’s never been happier.

#answered #my writing #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin fluff #the mandalorian #the mandalorian spoilers #Grogu #the mandalorian x reader

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din-miller · 1 year

Text

Grogu's Stuffed Frog

Pairing: Din Djarin x gn!reader

Word count: 600+

Summary: You buy Grogu a stuffed frog while on a trip to the marketplace on Nevarro.

Warnings: fluff, reader and Din are the best parents in the Galaxy, His first name is Din, married couple, gender neutral reader, based on a post I saw on tumblr.

"What is that?"

You jumped, arms quick to hide behind your back and you gave your husband a shy smile, "What is what?"

"Mesh'la, tell me that you didn't buy the kid another toy."

"I didn't buy him another toy," You said, which is true, it technically isn't a toy, "It's a stuffed frog!"

"That it is," Din grabbed it from you and flipped it over a few times, "It's heavy."

"It's weighted. The seller said it's good for helping children feel safe. Something about the weight comforting them or something," You explained with a small shrug, "Figured it couldn't hurt to try it out."

The tip of Din's gloved fingers ran across the soft green fabric, "You have to stop spoiling him. We're going to have to buy a bigger house if you keep coming back with new toys."

"You say that now but you haven't felt how soft it is," You don't even have to reach down for his hand, he's already holding it out for you. You removed his glove and placed a small kiss on his palm, "It's softer than my skin."

"Not possible," Mando declared and stroked one of the frog's legs, "Grogu's in his hammock, he's been waiting patiently for you to come back, almost like he knows he'll be getting a new toy."

"Yeah, yeah," You smiled, taking back the small stuffed animal and heading to where Grogu is no doubt waiting for you, "He's going to love this!"

"And cyar’ika," Din called and you turned to him, "I was right."

"About what?"

"Your skin is softer."

You tilted your head down towards your chest, trying to hide the blush that spreads across your skin. It's no use, Din is well aware of the effect his words have on you.

You entered the living room, you had hung up Grogu's hammock here when you first moved into the house. Din was right, the child sat all wide eyed and excited. Upon seeing you he let out a happy coo, which became even louder when his eyes fell upon the small frog in your hand.

"Hey Bean, have you been good for your dad while I was gone?" You asked picking him up out of his hammock. Grogu curled into the warmth of your body, his tiny hands reaching for the frog. You chuckled and handed it to him.

Behind you Din leaned against the doorway, leg crossed over the other one. His helmet is finally off. Nowadays he only wears it when he's going out or when you've left the house alone. The seconds it takes to put on could cost you your life if you suddenly find yourself in danger. It's a tad dramatic but you expect nothing less from him.

"He likes it." Din guestered to the child who's currently trying to eat the frog's nose.

"You can't eat it you little swamp rat," You scrunched up your nose, trying to dislodge the plastic nose from Grogu's mouth. It took a second but you finally got it free, "Tell your buir that I was right to buy it and that you're not spoiled."

Din pushed off the door frame and pulled you against his chest, "He's definitely spoiled, but what can you expect from a boy who has the best buir this side of the galaxy."

"Damn right he does," You leaned back into your husband's embrace, "Maybe one day we can get another frog."

Din nudged the back of your ear with his nose, chuckling when you tried to squirm away, "He doesn't need anymore stuffed animals."

"I don't mean for Grogu." Your voice dropped down to a soft whisper.

Behind you there's a sharp intake of air, Din's fingertips momentarily digging into the flesh of your hips before he's swinging you around to face him, "Cyar’ika, are you saying..."

"I want to raise warriors."

"We're going to raise the strongest warriors; a whole army," Din pulled you in for a kiss, "Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum."

"Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum sa pirusti."

Translation:

"Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum." - I love you

"Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum sa pirusti." - I love you as well

#im not happy with how this turned out but i needed a distraction and i saw a post about how grogu needs a stuffed frog in S4 #the mandalorian #din djarin x reader #din djarin x gender neutral reader #the mandalorian x reader #married couple | the mandalorian #fluff #justice joy writes #*based off of a tumblr post #sir grogu #din djarin #married couple

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polakina · 1 year

Text

don't tease me, cyar'ika

rating: explicit

outline: after being injured while capturing a quarry, you bring them to the Crest and attempt to hide the injury. Obviously it doesn’t work and Din cleans it, showing a softer side you had never seen before. Clearly feeling confident that day, you make a flirty suggestion towards the Mandalorian, not expecting him to actually take you up on the offer.

warnings: smut, unprotected sex, biting, fluff

requests are open! hope you enjoy, petals <3

masterlist

"Are you sure we're in the right place, Din?", you question as the three of you walk through the bustling streets of the village where your bounty was hiding out. Din sighs in annoyance, not at you, but at the fact that this mission was growing increasingly difficult. The bounty had escaped your clutches on more than one occasion, knowing the streets better than the both of you and being able to slip past without your knowledge.

"I'm positive. The fob says that this is where they're hiding." He states, gesturing to the dilapidated building in front of you. You nod, taking out your blaster, ready to enter the building and secure the bounty. Inside the building, you and Din split up, knowing that you would cover more ground if you separated.

Taking the Child in his pod, you headed upstairs. You can barely see a thing. Dust coated every surface and seeped into your lungs, hindering your ability to breathe. The windows were boarded up, preventing the light to shine through, leaving you almost blind inside.

Then you see it.

The glint of metal catches the corner of your eye, giving you a split second to kick the Child's floating pod out of harm's way, however, leaving you with no way to defend yourself. Searing pain shoots through your body as the knife slices through your forearm, blood dripping lavishly down your hand and onto the floor. Wincing from the burning sting, you disarm the attacker and pin them on the ground face down, straddling their waist and holding their arms behind their back. Yes, you had received a lot of training on how to restrain an opponent correctly. Yet you always found this method a lot easier.

The Mandalorian hears the commotion and rushes upstairs, expecting you to be in a compromising situation that required his assistance. Nope. That wasn't the case. He ran in just in time to see you throw the bounty on their stomach and pin them in place. Din stared down at you, shocked at the speed of your reflexes and a little turned on by how well you handled the situation. You looked up at the bounty hunter, "found them," you smirked, knowing from his body language that he was a little taken-aback from what he just saw. With one hand holding the woman's own hands in place, you take the handcuffs off your belt, placing them on the woman and pulling her to her feet.

Walking back to the Razor Crest, you did your best to subtly cover up the injury on your arm. This proved difficult since the cut wouldn't stop bleeding, and the red liquid oozed through your shirt and jacket and dripped onto the steel floor of the ship.

Shit. Can't hide that.

You had finally made it to the Crest, however, your attempt to pull down the sleeve on your jacket caught Din's attention. His beskar helmet tipped in your direction, curious as to what you were doing. Noticing the dark patch on your arm, he stopped in his tracks, turning his entire body to face you.

"You got hit?" he asked, worried. You shook your head frantically, trying to ease his concern.

"It's just a scratch. It's fine," you responded.

After a couple of seconds, he forces the bounty into carbonite, freezing her in place so you can finally leave this god-forsaken planet. Din walks over to you, placing his gloved hands on your shoulders and guiding you backward until the backs of your thighs connected with the metal table. "Sit," he commanded, turning his back on you and collecting the med-kit on the opposite wall. You obey his command, sitting on the cold table, your legs swinging beneath you. Within seconds, Din was stood between your legs. "Your jacket. Take it off". Biting back a smirk, you removed the clothing item and watched as he pulled the sleeve of your shirt up. You weren't going to lie, the commanding side of Din was extremely arousing, and you started to feel the very familiar heat growing between your legs. Din noticed you shifting your body weight on the table, smirking under his helmet, knowing what his orders were doing to you.

You looked at the cut on your arm, your hair falling over your face as you tried to hide the crimson tint that had quickly started to spread over your cheeks. Your plan swiftly fell apart as a gloved finger rested underneath your chin and tilted your head up to face him.

Your eyes met his shiny beskar helmet, and his finger moved from your chin to trace your jawline and eventually let his whole palm rest on your cheek, cupping it gently. You let out the breath that you hadn't realised you had been holding in the whole time and leaned against his palm, softening to his touch. Underneath his helmet, Din smiled at your flustered expression, his brown eyes creasing as he watched the colour rise in your face as you tried to hide the titillation present there. "You hanging in there?" you heard the smirk in his modulated voice, making you even more embarrassed. Looking away, you smiled nervously. He dropped the hand from your face to reach for the medical equipment beside your thigh.

Shit. Why were you this nervous around him?

You opened your mouth to respond with a snarky comment when you were cut off by Din's sigh reverberating through his modulator, while he further inspected your arm, turning it in his hand. "I'll clean this up. It doesn't look too deep to require stitches. After that, I'll set a course for Nevarro and see if I can get the kid to sleep." You nodded, and the hunter began disinfecting your wound, gently cleaning the blood from your arm. For a ruthless killer, Din surprisingly had a gentle touch, especially towards you and the Child. He disinfected your arm faster than you thought he would and, you almost whined at the loss of contact when he removed his hands from your skin. "Thank you." You practically whispered, still in minor shock from realising the effect he had on you. His beskar helmet tilted up to look at you and hovered there for what felt like an eternity. "It's no problem. Anything for you, cyar'ika." You blinked at the unexpected nickname. He had never called you anything other than your name before because he always stuck to acting strictly professional.

Pulling your sleeve down, you hopped off the table to go and check on the kid who had abruptly started crying, most likely because no-one was focusing their attention on him. "Do you want me to take him?" you heard a distorted voice call out behind you. Shaking your head, you picked up the small green child, holding him close and swaying him as though he was a real baby. "It's okay. I've got the little womp rat. You can set the course, and I'll see if I can get him to settle" you smile. He nodded and, you sat on the bench, cuddling him close to you, and his large eyes soon began to droop. Humming your favourite song always seemed to calm him down and help him sleep.

In a short time, the Child soon started snoring softly, his huge ears occasionally twitching, probably a result of his dreams.

Does he even dream? God knows.

You hadn't noticed, but Din was secretly watching you. He had already set a course for Nevarro and had climbed back down the ladder to check on you and the kid when he saw the cute interaction in front of him. He watched as the little creatures gripped onto one of your fingers with his hand and pulled it closer to his face to lean on. His eyes landed on your face, taking in all of your features. His eyes usually focused on your own eyes, immersing himself in the colour of your irises. But for some reason, today his eyes drifted to your lips. They traced over the shape of them and paid extra attention to the ridges and cuts that had been inflicted upon them in past disputes. He started to imagine what it would feel like to press his own lips against yours. How you would fit so perfectly together, how-

"Hey. Are you okay? I said your names a couple of times, but you didn't answer."

You were stood in front of him now, the kid already flat out asleep in his makeshift hammock. Your eyes furrowed in concern as he looked from side to side, as though he was confused by his surroundings. "No. I'm fine, sorry, I guess I just zoned out for a second. I noticed you managed to get the kid to sleep." Looking in the direction of the sleeping creature, a smile crept upon your lips as you thought of how cute the little womp rat was. "Yeah. It wasn't too difficult. He seems to like music, so singing or humming seems to get the job done", you grin up at him.

Din huffs a laugh, distorted from the modulator in his helmet. "You should probably try and get some sleep, that quarry took a lot out of you", the Mandalorian suggests, his helmet tipping to gesture towards your bed. You sigh, stretching your arms above your head, resulting in the hem of your shirt rising to show the scarred skin underneath. Cuts, gunshot wounds, and various bruises were littered all along your lower stomach.

This caught Din's attention, his eyes wandering over each injury, thankfully all while being shielded by the safety of his beskar. His mind, however, pondered over the thought of how despairingly he wished to kiss every one of your traumas. Din had always been protective of you and constantly makes sure that you are alright after a job, taking his time in patching you up. Sometimes taking extra time to run his gloved fingers over your abrasions, aching to touch your skin with his own. You hated when he had to fix you up and clean your wounds as you hated the way they made your body look.

You didn't know it, but Din didn't care, he worshipped your body and all of your so-called "flaws".

"I think I'm gonna shower first. I'm convinced I have half the dirt from this planet stuck in my hair," you giggle, turning to look at the Mandalorian, whose helmet was transfixed solely on you.

"Are you sure you're okay there, Din? You've been zoning out a lot lately." You go to lay your hand on the cool beskar helmet where his cheek would be. A hand whipped up to grab your wrist, not painfully, just as a warning. Gripping your wrist, his helmet sho

ok from side to side slightly as though to shake himself from a trance. "Sorry," he mumbled. rubbing your wrist with his thumb before releasing it.

"Yeah, good idea. Just don't use all the water like you did last time." His tone scolding you mockingly.

You groaned and rolled your eyes at him while slowly walking backwards towards the 'fresher. "I told you I was sorry about that. And besides, I figured out a solution for our little water problem." Your voice shaking slightly, nervous for what was to follow your previous statement.

Amused, the Mandalorian chuckled slightly, hearing the hesitation in your voice. His helmet bore into you, waiting patiently for a response, while he fiddled with the leather straps on his arms. "Well, people always say the best way to save water is to shower together." Din's movements froze at your comment. Yeah. You've got his attention now.

You lean against the doorframe leading into the 'fresher, arms folded, your heart thumping rapidly in your chest. You had never really flirted with the Mandalorian. You had wanted to, God you had wanted to, but you never wanted to jeopardise your friendship, professional or otherwise. He took a step closer.

"That's funny," you heard the smirk in his voice.

"What if I was being serious?" you raised your eyebrows, biting your lip subtly. Not subtly enough. Din noticed.

"Don't tease me, Cyar'ika." his deep voice barely making it through the modulator, yet it still sounded so dangerous.

He was right in front of you now, his fingertips barely grazing your shoulder.

Smirking, you stepped back, away from him, his arm dropping from your body.

"Yes, sir," you teased, winking at him and closing the door before you could notice the stiffness that coursed through Din's body after you called him 'Sir'.

Din elects to ignore the feel of his cock jump at the nickname and only remembers to breathe again once the door to the 'fresher had fully closed. -The water was warm and hugged your skin, enveloping you in a comforting embrace. Since it was only a small space, you and Din had to limit the number of shower supplies you owned. You shared the same hair products, in your defence, this wasn't due to a limited amount of space, it was because you found it comforting. It was strange to say, but you didn't even know what the man smelled like, whether it would be a musky scent, earthy and bitter, or whether he would surprise you and smell of something sweeter, something warmer. Using his shampoo gave you a little insight into what he smelled like, the man under the beskar.

Whilst the heated water soothed your aching skin and muscles, your eyes closed and drifted to the parts of your mind you kept a secret. You had strong feelings for the bounty hunter you had worked with for so long. He occupied your thoughts when you lay there awake at night, gliding your hands up and down your body, your breasts, your thighs, imagining that it was him touching you. Your thoughts were cut off when you heard the abrupt clicking of a light switch being flicked. Your eyes shot open, only to be greeted by darkness, apart from the red glow encasing the small 'fresher.

Who the fuck switched the lights off?

Stepping out of the shower, you grabbed a towel and began to wrap it around your body as you walked to the door in the almost complete abundance of light. You knew the Crest quite well, but not well enough to navigate around it in the dark. Your hand shot out in front of you so you didn't faceplant a wall or something, you refused to let Din laugh at you again about that.

Another few steps and you hit something. It wasn't the wall. You laid your palm flat against the warm surface, which you eventually realised was a chest. A heart beating at a steady pace under your fingertips. Then it dawned on you. The Mandalorian was in the 'fresher with you. With no armour on at all. You tried to calm your rapidly beating heart as you licked your lips.

"Did you decide to take me up on that shower offer?" you teased, your nerves lacing your words as you tried to speak as calmly as possible. "I did, actually. As you said, the best way to save water is to shower together." His words dripped off his tongue like honey, and you savoured every word. You stared at his chest, your eyes unable to lift to look at his helmet, your hand tracing patterns into his sternum.

"Told you," you retorted, a mischievous glint reflecting off your eyes, which did not go unnoticed by the bounty hunter. His bare, calloused hands landed gently on your shoulders, travelling painfully slowly down your arms, adjusting position to touch your waist. Fingertips barely grazing your towel, god, how you just wanted him to touch you properly. To let his hands roam free over your whole body, to let his lips kiss every inch of you, to take you and use you however he wanted. This gentle side of Din was not something you saw often. You relished every second he was gentle around you, but right now, you just wanted him to fuck you until your legs gave out beneath you. His fingers gripped around your towel and threw it to an unknown, dark corner of the small area.

"Fuck. So beautiful," he whispered. Your name fell from his lips, barely loud enough to hear. Rough hands trace over your bare skin, tenderly pushing you backwards into the shower, hot water still falling from it. "Close your eyes," he commanded. Your eyes clasped shut, your chest rising and falling heavily, as you adjusted to the new situation.

"If you open your eyes at any point, I'll have you off this ship immediately. Understand?" he questioned, the seriousness in his voice lacing each syllable that fell from his lips. Your back hit the cold 'fresher wall as Din's palms slid from your waist to the curve of your ass, squeezing it gently. Your breath halted instantly, and your body tensed as a loud echo vibrated through the walls.

"Answer me." A sound similar to a growl escaped his throat as he massaged your ass cheek where he had just slapped you.

"Uhm...uh...yes...y-yes, I understand. I pr-promise." A hand gripped your chin, tilting your head up to come face to face with his. Din took in all your features, wishing that you could look at him, knowing that it was impossible. "Good girl," was all he uttered before you heard a hiss, and it dawned on you. He took his helmet off.

Shit.

Before you had time to process that he didn't have his helmet on, his lips came crashing down on yours, his tongue tracing along your bottom lip. You eagerly let him in, his tongue delving into every crevice of your mouth. A small, quiet moan escaped your lips as he pulled away slightly, nipping your bottom lip between his teeth. Your hands moved up to his neck, gripping his hair, pulling him closer to you. You tangled your fingers in his wet locks, your nails scraping down his scalp to the back of his neck. One of his hands gripped around your waist while his other hand slipped down to find your already wet folds.

"Fuck, baby. Already wet for me?"

"Yes. God yes, always for you," you whimpered, your voice barely audible and dripping with lust.

He wanted this just as much as you did. You could hear it in his voice, you could feel how hard his cock was against your stomach. All thoughts then left your mind as he slipped two fingers inside you and began pumping slowly. You clamped down on your bottom lip to stop a moan traveling past it. Apparently, this was not what Din wanted.

"No, no baby. I want to hear those pretty moans all night long. Okay?"

God, how could you say no to him?

"Yes," was all you could respond with as his fingers sped up.

"Yes, what?" you heard him ask.

"Yes, sir," you responded, the corners of your mouth pulling up into a lust-filled grin. His fingers curled inside you, hitting that perfect spot over and over again, driving you closer to your orgasm, the coil in your stomach tightening with every pump. "Fuck, Din I'm about t-to..." your words melted away as Din started rubbing your clit with his thumb.

Shitshitshit.

Something snapped inside you as your orgasm intensely flooded through you. Your head fell back against the cool metal wall, your back arching in pleasure, pushing your breasts out further. Din took the opportunity to leave open-mouthed kisses between the valley of your breasts, taking one of your nipples in his mouth and sucking gently.

You rode out your high, breathless with post-orgasm bliss. Din removes his fingers and brings them to his mouth, licking himself clean of your juices. He then turns you around to face the metal wall, and you brace yourself with your forearms on the metal, arching your back and sticking your ass out.

"God, so ready for me aren't you, cyar'ika? So desperate for me? For my cock?" His hands came down your waist and landed on your ass.

"Yes. God yes. Wanted you fo-for ages."

"Oh really?" Amusement laced his tongue.

You opened your mouth to retort with a sarcastic comment, but then you were cut off by Din pushing himself flush against your body. His cock firmly pressing against your ass cheeks, his hands roaming wherever he could get them; your breasts, your waist, your aching folds. Everywhere.

"You sure you're ready for me?" He was only half-teasing this time. He wanted to hear you grant permission, hear you consent to this.

"Yes, Din. I want you. All of you."

He lines himself up with your entrance, dragging his tip through your folds, teasing you.

As per damn usual.

"Din, please. Don't te-" your pleas were cut off with a strangled moan as he pushed into you slowly, one of his hands on your hip to steady himself as the other slapped onto the wall next to your head. He gave you time to adjust to his length before pushing into you fully with one roll of his hips.

"Fuck. S-so tight. Fits m-me so well. Best thing I've ever felt," he mumbles to himself before wrapping his arm around your waist, leaning to press open-mouthed kisses to your shoulder. His pace began to increase as you adjusted, pulling out almost all the way and snapping his hips back into you with a powerful thrust.

"Fuck Din. Right-fuck-right there," you breathe out as he starts hitting that same sweet spot deep inside your heat. For a quiet person in his everyday life, Din was a vocal lover. Constantly whispering sweet praises about how good you feel, how you were practically made for him. Honestly, you could have cum from just his words, given the opportunity. As his pace quickened, his words faltered as his kisses turned into nipping at your skin, most definitely leaving bruises for days to come. His hand trailed down your stomach to your clit, pushing you closer to the edge with the rough, perfect circles he was rubbing there.

One of your hands gripped onto his arm next to your head, squeezing it tightly, giving Din an indication that you were close since you didn't trust a coherent sentence to leave your lips. Your core tightened around Din, and he hissed out a curse in what you assumed was Mando'a, snapping his hips into you at a bruising pace.

Eyes rolling to the back of your head, it only took a couple more thrusts until you felt an intense wave of ecstasy wash over you like an enraged ocean. The tightened coil inside you snapped as pure pleasure coursed through your body, spreading like wildfire as your head fell forward towards the floor, unable to hold itself up any longer. Din rode you through your orgasm, the feeling of you releasing around his cock only aiding him in chasing his own high. You felt his rhythm falter, his body shuddering against your own as he came. Hard.

You slapped a hand to your mouth to muffle a whimper while he bit down on your shoulder to silence his groan as his cum painted your walls. As you both tried to slow your breathing, Din kissed at the mark he had left on your shoulder. His hand rested on your lower stomach, tracing circles on your abdomen as he pulled out of you slowly.

"Shit, that was-was..."

"Really good," you answered for him, your mind still hazy with euphoria. Your eyes were still tightly shut, even though you were faced away from him and had no way of really seeing his face. "Yeah," he breathed out, "are your eyes still closed?"

Nodding, he gripped your waist gently and turned you around, and pulled you flush into his body. Your breasts trapped against his chest as hot water fell onto the both of you from the shower. A single finger laid under your chin and tilted your head up to face him.

"Maybe we should shower more often? You know, to conserve water."

You laughed at that comment, and even though you couldn't see it, Din was smiling at you. He always thought you had the most beautiful smile.

"Yes. That's probably a good idea, for conserving purposes only, of course."

You brought your hands to his chest, lightly scraping your nails down through the small patch of hair accumulated there.

You hear a chuckle from the bounty hunter before his head dips to connect his lips with yours in a soft kiss.

#the mandalorian #din djarin #star wars #mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x reader #pedro pascal #grogu #star wars fanfic #star wars fanfiction #star wars x reader #smut #fluff #fanfiction #fanfic #din djarin fanfic #din djarin fanfiction

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hyperactively-me · 7 months

Text

fever

“Wh- what,” he questions breathlessly. “Mesh’la.” “Huh? Mando, please listen to me right now—” “Mesh’la,” he repeats again, his hands trying to grab your face but they miss. “Mesh’la—” You grimace slightly, heart racing as his gloved hands graze your cheeks weakly.

din is completely out of it due to blood loss from an injury. you try to heal him, but he's just totally unaware and feverish...ooooo

(this is for you, 🪬 <3)

warnings: canon-typical violence, descriptions of injuries

The crimson sun is setting over a desolate planet as Mando trudges wearily back to the Razor Crest. A fierce battle against a band of pirates had left him injured, his armor damaged, and his thoughts scattered. All he wanted was to get back home to you. It was the thought of you that kept him going, forcing himself to stay awake as he battled with the searing pain radiating from his thigh now that the adrenaline was wearing off. He had been stabbed in the thigh, the wound deep and long. Blood was seeping through his pants. He knew that he was losing blood, but he had underestimated just how much blood was exuding from the nasty wound. His mind started to get foggy, his vision blurring through his visor.

He pressed his commlink, alerting you to open the ship. You noted he sounded a little out of it, his voice not really matching his usual demeanor. This time, it sounded more…loose. Unrefined. Messy. You had complied, opening the gangplank to the Crest when you saw him stumbling, shoulders drooped and head hung low as he swayed.

“Mando!”

You immediately jump into action, running down the gangplank towards him. Your hands hover over him for a moment, heart racing. You’re not really sure what to do, so you just grab his arm, hoisting it over your shoulder, allowing him to lean on you as you lead him towards the Crest.

“A– ah, blood,” is all he says, voice slurring.

“Okay, okay,” you nod frantically, pulling him up the gangplank and into the ship. The heat signature registers, closing the plank behind you both. You can’t support his weight any longer, so you slowly lower him to the floor. He hunches over, grasping his side as his visor is aimed straight at his thigh. His head bobs forward, breathing labored. You immediately start to push him backwards to lay down, placing a hand under his back to lower him down gently.

He groans as the skin is stretched taut from laying down.

“I know, I know, I know,” you stutter as he groans. Mando reaches up to grasp your hand tightly, nearly crushing your hand in his death grip.

“Mando, I need to take your pants off.”

Your eyes bore into his thigh, the blood soaked pants making your stomach queasy. His helmet is angled towards your face, hands fluttering at his sides helplessly.

“Wh- what,” he questions breathlessly. “Mesh’la.”

“Huh? Mando, please listen to me right now—”

“Mesh’la,” he repeats again, his hands trying to grab your face but they miss. “Mesh’la—”

You grimace slightly, heart racing as his gloved hands graze your cheeks weakly.

“Mando, I don’t know what you’re saying, but I need you to listen to me as best you can, let me slide your pants off,” you say forcibly, shaking his shoulders slightly. He stops moving for a moment, like he hears you for the first time, and you can’t tell if he lost consciousness or not.

“Mando?”

You cast a frantic glance around the dimly lit room, trying to find something to cut away the blood-soaked fabric. The air is thick with tension as you fumble through the pouches on his chest, trying to find a knife. You start to brush over his belt as more blood starts to seep from his thigh. Immediately he pulls your hands away, gasping in pain from the pressure of his grip.

“‘ve wanted you—” he groans, grabbing your hand and pressing it against his stomach. “Please, mesh’la—”

Your face heats up at his insinuation, but you shake your head. He’s lost so much blood, there’s no way he’s thinking clearly.

“Mando, focus!” you exclaim, your mind racing to comprehend his words. His helmeted gaze meets yours, and in that moment, you see vulnerability beneath the cold exterior. But there’s no time to dwell on that now.

You finally yank your hand from his steel grip and move down his uninjured leg, hands finding a concealed knife on the hilt of his belt. Without waiting for any more distractions, you retrieve it with trembling hands and cut away the blood-soaked fabric around the wound. The gash is deep, trailing from the middle of his thigh to the top of his knee, and you wince at the sight of it.

You immediately spring into action, getting up to run into the ‘fresher to grab a clean towel. Next, you barrel into some drawers, throwing them open with urgency in search of the first aid kit. With a triumphant grunt, you grab the medkit and rush back to Mando’s side.

His head lolls to the side when you reenter the space, hands coming up to reach for your ankle.

“Mando, stay with me,” you insist, carefully pushing his hands away from your ankle. You can sense his struggle to stay conscious, his limbs sluggish and heavy. You drop down to your knees again, setting the supplies to the side quickly.

The ‘fresher’s sterile lighting reveals the severity of the injury. Blood continues to seep from the wound, and you know you need to work quickly.

“Got the supplies, ‘m gonna need you to hold still,” you murmur, rummaging through the medkit trying to find cleaning supplies and a needle and stitches.

With a steady hand, you begin to clean the area, applying antiseptic from the medkit. Mando winces, but he doesn't vocalize his pain. Next, you start to gently wipe away blood using the towel you found in the ‘fresher, soaking up the blood surrounding the wound. He groans as you apply a slight pressure, and he grabs your hand again, this time dragging it to his inner thigh.

“Mesh'la,” he mutters again, the word haunting the small space. “Need you, now,” he slurs, his other hand reaching to your face again.

Oh my Maker.

“Y- you’re not thinking clearly,” you say, pushing his hand away. You wrench your hand from his grip again, trying to push down your own unholy thoughts.

“I am, cyar’ika.”

You huff, confused at what he’s saying, still cleaning the area.

“Y- you’ve lost a lot of blood.”

As you finish cleaning the area, you take out a bacta shot. You eye him wearily as you prep the needle.

“This should only hurt for a couple of seconds,” you say, and his hand comes up to your hip, squeezing the flesh of your hip with a certain weakness.

“Easy there,” you murmur, glancing down at his gloved hand on your hip. The pressure is surprisingly gentle, considering the strength he possesses.

The bacta shot pierces through his skin, and you inject it into the wound. Mando winces, his grip on your hip tightening for a moment before relaxing. The silence hangs thick between you, broken only by his shallow breathing.

“Ok, now I’m gonna stitch you up, ok?” you say, pulling out the needle and stitches.

He nods his head once. “‘M tired,” he states simply, voice gruff.

A panic surges through you.

“No, you cannot fall asleep,” you say urgently, taking his helmet between your hands. You shake him gently, urging him to stay awake. His hands sluggishly reach up to grip yours, pressing your hands into his helmet.

“Wish you were touching my face.”

You retract your hands in a flash, breath picking up. You turn back to the needle and stitches, trying to fit off the heat creeping up your face. You decide it's better to keep your mouth shut before you say something you can’t take back.

“I promise you can go to sleep after I’m done,” you say firmly, threading the stitches, trying to steady your hands as much as you can.

With a steadiness born from necessity, you begin the process of stitching the wound. The silence hangs thick between you, broken only by the sounds of him wincing. Each meticulous movement is met with groans of pain from Mando. It pains you to hear him in pain, but you persevere, each stitch closing up his wound. You steal glances at Mando's helmeted face, still unable to shake the vulnerability he let slip earlier.

“All finished,” you let out a deep breath, tying the end of the stitch.

You take out a bandage from the medkit and begin wrapping it carefully around the now stitched up wound.

“That should help with the healing,” you assure him, your fingers deftly checking the bandage.

His breathing is steady now, and you assume he’s asleep. You sigh in relief, pushing your hair out of your face. You look him over once, twice more before standing up to grab some pillows and a blanket. You ever so gently lift his helmeted head and place the pillow under it, hoping it provides some relief from laying on the floor. He was way too heavy to try to carry, and you didn’t want to risk reopening his wound. Next, you take the blanket and drape it over his form, pulling it right up under his chin. You stand there and inspect him once again, making sure there’s no stone left unturned. He lets out a soft snore, the sound coming through the vocoder a little funky.

“Hmm.”

You settle on the floor a few feet away from him, turning to face him as you lay on your side.

You let yourself succumb to sleep.

. . .

You wake up to a loud crashing sound, jumping awake with a start from your spot on the floor. Mando is clutching onto a drawer in an attempt to stand, most likely not realizing the severity of his condition.

“Hey– hey! Sit down!” you gasp, grabbing him by his arm to drag him back to a seated position. He tries to resist at first, but you shoot him a glare that makes him obey.

“What happened?” he questions as soon as he’s seated on the floor, leaning up against the wall. You pull his ankle so that he straightens out his injured leg.

“I had to fix you up,” you respond, trying to keep your voice even. You point to his injured thigh, watching him look down at his torn open pant leg. He’s silent, just staring at his bandaged thigh.

“I never took your helmet off.”

“I never thought you did.”

You nod at words, then take a deep breath.

“You lost a lot of blood, I think. You were saying all kinds of things. I gave you a bacta shot, stitched up the gash, and bandaged it,” you explain, brushing his pant leg open more to let him see it more clearly. He tenses under your touch, but stays silent.

You look up at him expectantly, waiting for him to say something, anything.

“What did I say?” is all he asks, his tone of voice dangerously low.

You tense for a moment, unsure of his sudden change in demeanor. You clear your throat uncomfortably, face already heating up in embarrassment.

“Um, for starters, what does ‘mesh’la’ mean?” you ask quietly, voice meek.

He immediately freezes. You sense you made a mistake. Fumbling over your words, you quickly try to explain yourself.

“It’s just, when I was fixing you up, you kept saying ‘mesh’la’ over and over again, and I was just wondering what it meant—”

He holds his hand up, motioning for you to stop speaking. You shut your mouth, feeling dejected. Before you can move, his voice crackles over the modulator.

“It…it means beautiful in Mando’a.”

Your face feels as though it’s on fire. The revelation catches you off guard, and the intensity of his confession leaves an echo of vulnerability in the silence that follows.

You stare at him. “So…you think I’m beautiful?” you ask gently, twisting your hands in your grip.

He takes a beat.

“Yes.”

You duck your head, feeling vulnerable under his gaze. Your heart quickens at his response, a blend of surprise and a hint of something more.

His acknowledgment leaves you momentarily speechless. The rugged Mandalorian, a warrior molded by the harshness of the galaxy, has just confessed a truth that goes past his beskar armor. The vulnerability in his admission resounds within you.

“Thank you,” you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper. It’s a simple phrase, but the weight it carries is undeniable.

“I feel like I should also mention another thing or two…” you trail off.

He looks at you expectantly.

“You also said things along the lines of…wanting…me,” you grimace, not knowing any way else around this conversation. You felt like you owed it to him to let him know what he was saying while he was…incapacitated. “And, I should also mention that you…admitted you wished I could…hold your face.” You say the last part quickly, blurting it out in one go to rip the band aid off.

You can’t even bear to look at him. Suddenly, you feel his hand touching your knee. You look up with a furious blush, pursing your lips together.

“I meant it.”

You sit there, mouth agape.

“I meant it,” he repeats, more confident this time.

Your head is spinning at his revelation, your desire for his affection crashing over you like a tsunami. You lean over, crowding your face right in front of his helmet. Your breath fogs up his visor, and you cup the sides of his helmet in your hands. You take a long, hard stare straight into his visor where you assume his eyes are, and then you press a gentle kiss on the beskar.

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