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atdawnwewrite · 2 years

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Stay (Din Djarin x f!Reader)

Pairing: The Mandalorian x Reader / Din Djarin x Reader

Prompt: (Not mine but provided by the ever lovely @theworldofprompts)

“Do you remember what it was like? Before this mess. Before this pain and bloodshed. Do you remember who you were?”

“I do. Do you?”

“Not so much anymore.”

Warnings: Mentions of blood, mentions of death/killing, slightest hint of PTSD(?), violence, language, angst, shirtless!Reader (but with no sexual context), soft!Din (which should be a warning in itself because he’ll steal your heart). Also I failed to take the time to proofread this thoroughly, so I apologize in advance for any mistakes. I think that sums it up (but as always, feel free to let me know if there’s anything I missed!)

Word Count: 2.9k

A/N: My original intent was for this to be a very small blurb, but I got carried away with this. This has been posted on previous accounts I’ve had, so if it sounds familiar, it may be oops.

(photo is not my own)

It's another day of hunting down quarries, another day of kill or be killed. You're on Tatooine, a place practically teeming with the scum of the galaxy. But this is where the tracking fob has led Mando, so you go with.

"Come with." He instructs, readying the weapons on his utility belt. "I'm going to need your help."

That was the understatement of the century. Tatooine is where criminals went to escape, to hide. While they were untrusting, they still looked out for each other. A camaraderie built on questionable principle and morals. So when word reached the escaped prisoner that a Mandalorian had set foot on the planet, they ran like hell. But not before calling in a few favors.

Mos Eisley was like a maze of narrow streets which gave way to alleys. It usually was buzzing with nightlife but was eerily quiet tonight as you and the hunter traipsed through the sandy paths.

"Something isn't right, Mando." You murmured, surveying the area warily. He ignored you as he spotted the quarry darting across the plaza and you both chased after him, blasters drawn. You converged on the convict, trapping him in a corner.

"There's nowhere for you to go. Come willingly and I'll spare your life." The sounds of Mando's voice broke the silence, prompting the criminal to turn, a grin splattered across his face.

"I'd rather not." A sick laugh left him and you raised your blaster, steadying it with two hands. The sound of beskar creaked as the Mandalorian drew closer to him.

"I will kill you." His body towered over that of the man below him in both height and brawn, but the little impish man was unyielding, laughing harder at this.

"I don't think so~" He cackled and movement in your periphery caught your eye.

"Look out!" You reacted quickly, rushing to shove Mando out of the way as a woman aimed to strike his arm between the plates of armor. A burn tore through your shoulder blade as the jagged knife found purchase there, dragging downward as your skyward attacker finally came to rest on the ground.

"You made me miss." She seethed, tearing the knife harshly from your flesh. You could feel blood seeping, but had little time to care.

"Y/N, fuck!" Mando is stewing with rage. There's now five enemies on the two of you, but his strength is unrelenting while he's tapped into this anger. The knife-wielder knocks your blaster from your hands after you take one of the other hired guards out. She has her blade pressed against your neck, ready to slice your throat and claim the Mandalorian as her prize.

"Any last words?" She hisses, a vicious snarl leaving her lips as you knock into her, sending her flying back. You're on her in an instant, the knife slipping from her hands. You snatch it up, turning in time to get one of the others who's charging at you. You make a run for your blaster and the girl is on you again, digging her fingers into your bleeding wound.

A howl of pain leaves you and the bounty hunter is to you in a flash, ripping her from your body. She's on the ground and you straddle her for the second time. This time, you don't spare her and drag the knife quickly across her throat. Her blood paints your skin, and the blade emits a dull thud when it clatters against the sand. Your blaster by your side again, you catch the bounty making a run once more and with a few shots from your weapon, he crumples to the ground. You drop your blaster, blood thumping in your ears and the sound of the last body hits the street as Mando takes him out.

He's to your side and startles you. You can't make out the sounds of his footsteps, or the weight of his armor over the sound of your heart.

"I've got to get you back to the ship. Let me carry you." He's down by your side, helping you up.

"No, you've got to get the body. I'm fine. I can make it." You protest, raising to your feet beside him.

"Y/N." His voice is stern. "I don't care about it. We'll get credits some other way."

"Please, Mando. Just grab the fucking body and let's get out of here. We can't stay out in the open like this."

With a sigh that crackles over the modulator of his helmet, he bends to your request, hoisting the dead body over his shoulder and leading you back to the Razor Crest. He opens the ramp and you stagger inside, collapsing against one of the tables, sitting there and drawing in jagged breaths at the pain.

He tosses the body in one of the cargo holds for now, closing the hatch and heading to you. "Let me see how bad it is."

"I'm fine." You bite back, swatting at his hand.

"So help me, Maker. Just get on the fucking bed so I can look." When you fail to move, he's easily lifting you off the table. You shouldn't be surprised—he just carried a full grown man's body back to the ship, but it still catches you off guard. Your body protests as you flail in his arms so the erratic movements are short-lived and it's not long before he's setting you on the bed. "Take off your shirt." He instructs in a no-nonsense tone, rummaging through the storage for whatever he has to call a medkit.

"Absolutely not." You deny, watching him lazily. He's back to you in a flash, ripping the fabric from your body. You hear it flutter to the ground, followed by the soft patter of something else. You realize it must have been his gloves that hit the floor when the rough pads of his now-bare fingers trail over your skin, causing a shiver to spread through you.

"Do you always have to be so difficult?" He uses a clean scrap cloth to mop up some of the blood which still seeps from the cut. "Fuck, she got you really good. I have to close the wound." His hand spots the cautery, flicking it on and listening to the hum emitted by the electric device. "This is going to hurt."

"I got this fucking saving your ass from losing an arm." You hiss at him, but then let out one deep breath. "Just get it over with. I can handle it." You tense your muscles in anticipation but his fingers ghost over your skin, prompting you to relax.

"Don't tense up. I know it's hard, but just relax. It'll go faster that way." His hand strokes along your spine, soothing you for a few moments, waiting for your breathing to slow before he brings the hot surge to your skin. You bite down on your knuckle to stifle the scream trying to tear through your throat. You think about the kid, his pointy ears laying back as he sleeps. Tears brim in your eyes but the thought of the little tyke sleeping keeps you from crying out, not wanting to wake him. "I'm almost done, Y/N. You're doing so well. Just keep staying still. Just like that." His soft praises and touches almost make the pain worth it. Well, the fact that he's even here right now more than makes it worth it. After a few more minutes of the burning sensation against your skin, the buzz of the wand ceases and you hear him set it aside. He takes a new rag and steps into the fresher to wet it; when he returns, he wipes away any remaining blood gently. He examines the raised skin, knowing it will scar and mar your beautiful, smooth skin.

“I got rid of the blood as best as I could, but you should probably use the fresher to clean the rest up.” He’s helping you up, urging you towards the small room outside the sleeping quarters. “I need to set our course and get us off this shit hole before someone tries anything else. Go.” He urges you, a hand on the small of your back leading you into the refresher. He starts the shower, making sure the water warms for you then he heads for the ladder up to the ship’s control.

“Mando?” He pauses before climbing, turning to look at you expectantly. “Once it’s set, will you stay with me tonight?”

You can hear the audible sharp intake of air he makes, and although he hesitates, he agrees. “... Yes, now go.” He climbs the ladder quickly, leaving you to turn into the room and wash yourself.

You watch the water seep down the drain. It runs red, dark as the blood—both yours and that of others—pools below you. A shudder travels through you as you recall the knife stuttering over the woman’s throat and you try to shake it from your memory. You don’t register that you’re crying but your whole body racks with sobs. Mando is knocking on the door, but you don’t hear it. Then he’s entering the room.

“Y/N? What’s wrong?” He’s maintaining his distance, respectful of your privacy behind the closed door of the shower. You don’t answer, so he raps his fist against the stall of the shower, drawing you back into the moment and prompting you to turn the water off. “Here.” He tosses a towel over the door and you ravel yourself into it, leaning against the damp wall. Next, a piece of tan fabric is tossed over the wall. A tunic, soft but much too large to be yours. As you throw it on, you realize it’s his. Once your tears have subsided into hiccups which have turned into only stuttering breaths, you emerge. Now that you’re in air, he’s stripped off his armor, so when he pulls you into a hug, you can feel the warmth of his body. “Are you going to tell me what’s wrong? Why are you crying?”

"Do you remember what it was like? Before this mess. Before this pain and bloodshed. Do you remember who you were?"

The memories of his time before the untimely murder of his parents have been present in his mind for as long as he can remember. His memories of being a foundling, growing up and training. Memories all before he started killing are so present in his mind every day. He feels like they keep him human.

“I do.” He pauses, he’s tilting your chin up, his visor tipped down as he studies you behind his helmet. “Do you?”

A shudder of air wheezes from you, your body shakes against him, but you push away before he can pull you in tighter. “Not so much anymore.” Your eyes sting once more with renewed tears. “I killed two people tonight. And I didn’t hesitate. I never wanted this. I was just supposed to watch the kid, I-”

A deep sigh escapes him, silencing you. You try to read him beyond the helmet, but he refuses to face you. “Are you going to leave?” It’s a loaded question, but you can tell it breaks him to ask it. “Is that what you want?” You don’t think the crack in his voice is from the modulator this time.

“I don’t know, Mando. I don’t know what I should do.”

“It’s up to you, but for what it’s worth, I like having you around.” It fucking hurts him deep, but he runs a hand through your hair. It’s the first time his bare fingers have touched through your soft locks. A soft groan leaves him, prompted by the sting in his chest at the possibility of you abandoning him. “I’ll make it up to you, if you stay, cyar’ika. I promise I will.”

He rarely calls you by anything other than your name, but the term of endearment is not lost on you. And you realize that protecting him ran deeper than just doing it because you tagalong with him and the kid. You care. So much so that you were willing to take a hit for him; more than a hit really, quite possibly facing death for him. His hand cups your cheek, one more hushed plea leaving him. “Please, don’t go.”

You tilt your head, leaning into his grasp. “I won’t leave you.” You assure him quietly and his response is immediate; he’s scooping you into his arms, bringing you back to the bedroom with his helmet gently leaning against your head. He settles onto the mattress, sitting upright with you still in his arms. The two of you are silent, comfortable in each other’s embrace for a minute before he speaks up.

“I want to try something, ner ka’rta, but you have to trust me. Please, lie down.”

“What is it?” You whisper as he sets you on the bed. Instead of responding, he rises from the bed evident by the loss of his weight and the creaking as he shifts off of the mattress. You lie on your stomach as you await his return. When he's back, something cool and smooth is covering your eyes. “Mando? What is this?”

"Aeien silk. It cost way more than it should have but it'll be worth it."

"What do you mean?"

“I got this…” He pauses but then a gentle hiss fills the air, then his voice, warmer and smoother than ever before. "So I can do this." The mattress bows under his weight again and he leans down. His fingers skim along your skin as he slides the tunic up, exposing your flesh. There's a soft weight on your back, right below the fresh wound. Then it migrates around the offended skin, traveling in a circle and you realize it's his lips pressing tender kisses against your bare back. Then he's pulling you up, into his lap, your chest pressed against the thin fabric of his shirt. "And this." His lips descend on yours and it's as though his lips suck the air from your lungs, breathing it into his own. You pull away to breathe and he takes a moment to just gaze at you. A rare moment without intrusion or interruption, just existing in each other’s space.

You raise your hands slowly, aiming to explore him blindly. Your hands find his jaw, feeling the stubble there, coarse beneath your fingers. Then your thumbs spread across the expanse of his cheek. You’d imagined doing it so many times before, but now you could feel him. Living, breathing, hot flesh and man beneath you. He interrupts your exploration to kiss you again, deeper this time. and your hands find their way into the tangled curls at the nape of his neck. His hair is longer than you'd have expected, softer too. All too soon, he pulls away, leaving you alone on the bed once more. You whine at the loss of contact but you hear the telltale sign of his feet hitting the floor. He tilts your head up with a finger under your chin, brushing his lips over yours once more. It's so tender, chaste, but brief at the same time.

"I need to cover this wound, and I have some salve lying around that Kuiil gave me. You'll feel better after that. I'll be right back. Don't move. Don't take this off. Do you understand?" He tugs the silk more securely over your eyes to emphasize his point and you nod solemnly. You know the gravity of his actions. Taking his helmet off and trusting you to not look is not something you consider lightly.

You hear him retreat, but he’s soon climbing onto the mattress behind you. “It’s going to be cold, but it’ll help with the sting, okay?” He spreads the balm gently over the wound, then he applies a bandage over it. “How’s that?”

You can already feel the burning sensation subsiding as the calming properties of the concoction gets to work. “Way better, Mando. Thank you for taking care of me.” You twist in his lap, feeling his lips so you can press yours to his once more. He lays back, taking you with him so that your body is nestled closely against his.

“Din. That’s my true name. Call me Din when it’s like this, just us two.” It’s not a request, but rather a simple order.

“Din.” You smile, sheepish even though he can’t see you. Your hands travel up to explore his face more. You can feel his kiss-swollen lips, his broad nose. You even feel his eyelids, the long eyelashes there too.

“You need sleep, cyar’ika.” His baritone voice is gentle against your ear.

“You do, too.”

“I will.”

“Din? You’re still going to stay with me, right?”

A deep chuckle rumbles low in his throat. “You couldn’t get rid of me if you even tried, sweet girl.” And so he does keep his promise, staying with you all night, wrapped around you.

#din djarin #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #mando x reader #pedro pascal characters #atdawnwewrite

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