#Din: (running out of the room in a panic) NO NO NO NO NO | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hd-junglebook · 1 day

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Can I Help You

Part 2 / Word Count 3509

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Summary: after days of avoiding Luke, y/n has to man up and see Luke in person after she ran away. But of course, things won't go as smoothly when her ex-boyfriend shows up.

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The music pulsed through the night air, the heavy bass reverberating in their chests as y/n and Clarke approached the big white house. Clusters of partygoers sprawled across the front lawn and spilled over onto the stairway, their laughter and chatter mixing with the thumping soundtrack blaring from inside.

The chill in the air nipped at exposed skin, but the revelers seemed impervious, warmed by the electric thrill of the night and perhaps a few red solo cups.

y/n's heels clicked rhythmically against the sidewalk, a sharp staccato cutting through the dull roar of the party. She tugged at the hem of her dress, suddenly feeling self-conscious amidst the sea of scantily clad sorority girls. Clarke, sensing her friend's hesitation, looped her arm through y/n's and gave a reassuring squeeze.

"You've got this, babe. He's going to eat his heart out when he sees you," Clarke declared, her voice raised to carry over the din.

y/n exhaled shakily, her breath misting in the cool air. She wanted to believe her friend, wanted to trust in the liquid courage buzzing through her veins, but the butterflies in her stomach refused to settle.

They climbed the steps to the front door, dodging red cups and overly enthusiastic dancers, y/n scanned the crowd for a glimpse of him. Her heart stuttered in her chest when she finally spotted him across the room, his tall frame unmistakable even in the dim party lighting.

He looked up then, his eyes locking with hers, and the rest of the room fell away. In that suspended moment, she forgot all about her nerves, forgot why she had run away before. All that mattered was the way he was looking at her now, his gaze smoldering with intensity and unspoken promises.

Clarke's elbow jabbed sharply into her ribs, startling her back to reality. "Go get him, tiger," she urged with a knowing grin, giving y/n a gentle shove in his direction.

As Luke's gaze continued to bore into her, y/n felt a sudden surge of panic. She grabbed Clarke's hand and deftly maneuvered them through the throng of partygoers, weaving between the gyrating bodies until they reached a more crowded corner of the house.

The music was even louder here, the bass thumping in their chests, but at least they were out of Luke's line of sight.

Clarke turned to face y/n, her long wavy blonde hair blanketing her face. Her leather skirt hugged her curves as she planted her hands on her hips, fixing y/n with an incredulous stare. "You mean to tell me the boy you think is hot says he wants you and your first instinct is to run away?" Clarke asked, her voice laced with disbelief.

y/n fidgeted with the hem of her black dress, the fabric clinging to her like a second skin. The bow in her hair bobbed as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other, looking unsure of her answer. After a moment, she reluctantly nodded her head.

Clarke's eyes widened, her perfectly arched brows nearly reaching her hairline. "Girl, what are you thinking? Luke is practically begging to get with you, and you're over here playing hide-and-seek!"

y/n sighed, her shoulders slumping. "I know, I know. It's just..." She trailed off, trying to find the right words. "What if he ends up just like Mark? Even worse, what if Mark finds out?"

Clarke softened, reaching out to squeeze y/n's hand. "Oh, honey. Have you seen the way that boy looks at you? Don't let your fears hold you back from something that could be amazing."

y/n chewed on her bottom lip, considering Clarke's words. She knew her friend was right. Now that he had finally made a move, she was running scared.

Straightening her shoulders, y/n took a deep breath. The bow in her hair quivered with her newfound resolve. "You're right. I won’t let my insecurities ruin this. I'm going to go talk to him. And we’re gonna drink and I won’t run away!"

Clarke grinned, her red lips curving into a proud smile. "That's my girl! Go get your man!" She gave y/n a playful swat on the rear as she turned to head back into the fray. y/n took one last steadying breath before squaring her shoulders and marching towards Luke.

…

As y/n approached Luke from behind, she couldn't help but admire the way his curls shone under the bright kitchen lights. They looked so soft, and she had to resist the urge to reach out and run her fingers through them.

She was close enough now to catch a whiff of his cologne, a heady scent that made her pulse quicken. She breathed in deeply, letting the aroma wash over her, a potent mixture of spice and musk that was uniquely Luke.

Lost in the moment, y/n didn't realize just how close she had gotten until Luke suddenly turned around, his eyes locking with hers. For a heartbeat, the world seemed to stand still. The chatter and laughter of the partygoers faded into the background, and all y/n could focus on was the intensity of Luke's gaze.

His eyes seemed to pierce right through her, sending a shiver down her spine. There was a hint of surprise in his expression, perhaps at her sudden appearance, but it quickly gave way to something else entirely. Something heated and hungry that made y/n's breath catch in her throat.

"Hey," Luke said, his voice low and husky. "I was wondering where you disappeared to."

y/n swallowed hard, trying to find her voice. "I just needed a minute," she replied, hoping he couldn't hear the tremor in her words.

Luke's lips quirked up in a half-smile, and he took a step closer. "Well, I'm glad you're back. I was starting to think you were avoiding me."

y/n's heart hammered in her chest as she shook her head. "No, not avoiding. Just..." She trailed off, unsure of how to explain the riot of emotions swirling inside her.

Luke's smile softened, and he reached out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear. His fingers brushed against her skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. "Just what, y/n?" he asked gently.

y/n drew in a shaky breath, steeling herself. It was now or never. "Just trying to work up the courage to do this."

And with that, she closed the remaining distance between them, rising up on her toes to press her lips against his. For a moment, Luke went still, and y/n feared she had made a terrible mistake. But then his arms came around her, pulling her flush against his body as he deepened the kiss.

The rest of the world fell away as y/n lost herself in the sensation of Luke's lips moving against hers, his hands roaming over her back, her sides, her hips. She tangled her fingers in his curls, reveling in their softness, just as she had imagined.

When they finally broke apart, both of them breathless and flushed, Luke rested his forehead against hers. "Wow," he murmured, his eyes shining with wonder.

y/n couldn't help but giggle, a giddy sort of joy bubbling up inside her. "Wow indeed," she agreed, before pulling him down for another kiss. As y/n melted into Luke's embrace, savoring the taste of his lips and the warmth of his body pressed against hers, she caught a flicker of movement out of the corner of her eye. Her heart stuttered in her chest as she recognized the familiar figure striding through the doorway.

Mark.

y/n froze, her body going rigid in Luke's arms. He pulled back, his brow furrowed in concern as he noticed the sudden change in her demeanor. "What's wrong?" he asked, his voice laced with worry.

But y/n couldn't respond, her eyes locked on Mark as he made a beeline for Clarke. She watched, her stomach twisting in knots, as he leaned in close to her friend, his expression serious as he questioned her about something y/n couldn't hear over the pounding music.

"I... I need a second," y/n stammered, tearing her gaze away from Mark and Clarke. She stepped out of Luke's embrace, her skin feeling suddenly cold without his touch.

Luke's face fell, a mixture of confusion and hurt flickering across his handsome features. "What? Why? Did I do something wrong?"

y/n shook her head, already backing away. "No, it's not you. I just... I have to go."

She turned to leave, but Luke's hand shot out, grabbing her arm. His grip was gentle but firm, his fingers pressing into her skin. "Wait, y/n. Please. Don't run away again."

y/n's heart clenched at the desperation in his voice, but she couldn't bring herself to meet his gaze. "Luke, I'm sorry. I can't do this right now."

"Can't do what?" Luke demanded, his tone sharpening with frustration. "Can't talk to me? Can't be honest with me? You keep sending me all these mixed signals, y/n. One minute you're kissing me like your life depends on it, the next you're running away like I've got the plague."

y/n flinched at the accusation in his words, but she couldn't deny the truth of them. She had been running hot and cold with Luke for weeks now, ever since they'd started skating together. Ever since she'd begun tutoring him in math, staying up late to help him grasp concepts that seemed to slip through his fingers like water.

She'd thought she could keep him at arm's length, that she could ignore the way her heart raced every time he looked at her with those piercing honey eyes. But then he'd kissed her tonight, and everything had changed.

"I'm sorry," she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper. "I just... I have to leave."

She tried to pull away, but Luke's grip on her arm tightened. His jaw clenched, a muscle ticking beneath the stubble that shadowed his angular cheekbones. "So that's it? You're just going to run away again? Leave me hanging like you always do?"

The bitterness in his tone made y/n's chest ache, but she forced herself to meet his gaze. "Luke, please. Don't make this harder than it has to be."

"Harder than it has to be?" Luke scoffed, his eyes flashing with hurt and anger. "You're the one making it hard, y/n. You're the one who keeps pushing me away, even though I know you feel something for me. I can see it in the way you look at me, the way you melt into me when we kiss."

He took a step closer, his free hand coming up to cup her cheek. His touch was feather-light, but it burned like a brand against her skin. "Why won't you let me in, y/n? Why won't you give us a chance?"

y/n swallowed hard, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. She wanted to tell him everything, to confess all the secrets she'd been keeping locked away in her heart. But the words stuck in her throat, choking her.

"I'm sorry," she said again, her voice cracking. "I have to go."

And with that, she wrenched her arm free of Luke's grasp and fled, pushing through the crowd of partygoers as the tears began to fall. She could feel Luke's eyes boring into her back as she ran, but she didn't dare look back.

She couldn't bear to see the heartbreak on his face, knowing that she was the one who had put it there. She approached Clarke and Mark, their voices grew louder, cutting through the pulsing music and chatter of the party. She could see the tension in Mark's shoulders, the way his hands clenched into fists at his sides as he loomed over Clarke.

"Who is that guy, Clarke? I know you're lying to me. Tell me who he is!" Mark's voice was sharp, his words clipped with barely contained rage.

Clarke, to her credit, looked utterly unfazed. She stood her ground, her arms crossed over her chest as she stared up at Mark with a look of disdain. "When is the right time to leave your ex-girlfriend alone? She doesn't want you, you're crazy."

Mark's face reddened, his nostrils flaring. "I'm not crazy! I just want to know who that guy is. y/n is mine, and I'm not going to let some random dude swoop in and steal her away from me."

y/n's stomach churned at the possessiveness in Mark's voice. She'd broken up with him months ago, but he still seemed to think he had some kind of claim on her. It was one of the reasons she'd been so hesitant to let herself get close to Luke, even though her heart yearned for him.

She stepped forward, putting herself between Mark and Clarke. "Mark, stop. Please. You're making a scene."

Mark's gaze snapped to her, his eyes wild. "y/n! There you are. I've been looking all over for you."

He reached for her, but y/n stepped back, shaking her head. "Mark, we've been over this. We're not together anymore. You need to leave me alone."

Mark's face twisted, a mixture of hurt and anger flickering across his features. "Is this because of him? That guy you were with earlier?"

y/n's heart stuttered in her chest. "Luke has nothing to do with this. We broke up because you were possessive and controlling, and I couldn't take it anymore."

Mark scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Oh, please. You loved it when I took charge. When I made all the decisions for us. You needed me to take care of you."

y/n's hands clenched into fists, her nails digging into her palms. "I didn't need you to do anything for me, Mark. I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself."

Mark's eyes narrowed, his lips curling into a sneer. "Really? Is that why you're running around with some new guy, letting him put his hands all over you? You're just a slut who can't be alone." The words hit y/n like a slap, and she recoiled as if she'd been struck. Beside her, Clarke let out a gasp of outrage.

"How dare you talk to her like that! You're a pathetic excuse for a man, Mark. No wonder she dumped your sorry ass."

Mark's face reddened even further, and for a moment, y/n thought he might actually strike Clarke. But then he seemed to deflate, his shoulders slumping as he took a step back.

"Fine. Whatever. You two deserve each other." He spat the words like venom, his eyes darting between y/n and Clarke. With that, he turned on his heel and stalked away, shoving through the crowd of partygoers. y/n watched him go, her heart racing in her chest.

She felt like she couldn't breathe, like the walls of the room were closing in on her. "y/n? Are you okay?" Clarke's voice was gentle, her hand coming to rest on y/n's shoulder.

…

Luke stood there for a moment, stunned and heartbroken. He couldn't understand why she kept running away from him, why she wouldn't let him in. He thought they had something special, but now he was starting to doubt everything.

As he turned to leave, his shoulders slumped in defeat, he found himself face to face with a tall, broad-shouldered guy he didn't recognize. The guy had a scowl on his face and a glint of something dangerous in his eyes.

"Hey, you," the guy said, his voice low and menacing. "You're the one who was with y/n earlier, right?"

Luke bristled at the accusation in the guy's tone. "Yeah, what's it to you?"

The guy stepped closer, invading Luke's personal space. "I'm Mark, y/n's boyfriend. And I want to know what the hell you think you're doing with my girl."

Luke's eyes widened in surprise, his heart clenching painfully in his chest. y/n had a boyfriend? Why hadn't she told him? Had everything between them been a lie?

Anger set in, hot and fierce. How dare this guy claim y/n as his own, like she was some kind of possession? And how dare y/n lead him on, make him think they had something real, when she was just using him to get back at her boyfriend?

Luke's jaw clenched, his hands curling into fists at his sides. He wanted to punch Mark in his smug face, to make him feel even a fraction of the pain that was tearing through his own heart. But instead, he forced himself to take a step back, to put some distance between them. "No, that's not my girl," he said, his voice cold and flat. "I don't know her."

The words tasted like ash in his mouth, but he forced them out anyway. He wouldn't let Mark see how much this was killing him, wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing he'd gotten under his skin.

Mark's eyes narrowed, his lips curling into a sneer. "Good. Because if I ever catch you sniffing around her again, I'll make you regret it."

Luke just shook his head, a humorless laugh escaping his lips. "Trust me, you don't have to worry about that. I'm done with her."

…

y/n hadn't gone far when she heard the confrontation between Mark and Luke. She'd been hiding in a quiet corner of the house, trying to gather her thoughts and calm her racing heart, when their voices had carried over the din of the party.

At first, she couldn't make out what they were saying. But then she heard Luke's voice, cold and harsh, saying "No, that's not my girl. I don't know her."

The words hit her like a physical blow, stealing the breath from her lungs. She felt like she'd been punched in the gut, like the ground had opened up beneath her feet and swallowed her whole.

How could Luke say that, after everything they'd been through? After the way he'd kissed her, held her, looked at her like she was the only thing in the world that mattered?

Anger surged through her, hot and fierce. She pushed herself off the wall and stormed towards the two men, her vision tunneling until all she could see was Mark's smug face.

Without a second thought, she hurled herself at him, swinging her fists with wild abandon. She wasn't thinking, wasn't planning, just acting on pure instinct and rage.

Mark stumbled back, his eyes widening in surprise as y/n's blows rained down on him. He tried to fend her off, but she was relentless, her anger giving her a strength she didn't know she possessed.

Luke jumped back in shock, his mouth falling open as he watched y/n attack Mark. For a moment, he was frozen, unsure of what to do.

But then Clarke appeared out of nowhere, pushing herself between y/n and Mark. "Stop it, both of you!" she yelled, her hands held out in front of her like a shield. Mark snarled, shoving Clarke aside with a rough push. She stumbled, nearly falling, but managed to catch herself at the last moment.

That was all it took for Luke to snap out of his daze. He lunged forward, grabbing y/n around the waist and hauling her away from Mark. She struggled against him, still swinging her fists, but he held her tight, his arms like steel bands around her.

"Let me go!" she screamed, her voice raw and ragged. "I'm going to kill him!"

But Luke just held her tighter, his breath hot against her ear as he spoke. "y/n, stop. He's not worth it."

y/n sagged against him, all the fight draining out of her in a rush. She felt like a puppet whose strings had been cut, like she might collapse if Luke wasn't holding her up.

"Why did you say that?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "Why did you tell him you didn't know me?"

Luke was silent for a long moment, and y/n felt her heart sink. But then he spoke, his voice soft and sad. "Because I thought you had a boyfriend. I thought you were just using me to get back at him."

y/n's eyes widened, and she twisted in Luke's arms to look up at him. "What? No! Mark's not my boyfriend. We broke up months ago."

Luke's brow furrowed in confusion. "But he said-"

"He's lying," y/n interrupted, her voice fierce. "He's a manipulative, controlling asshole who can't stand the thought of me moving on."

She reached up, cupping Luke's face in her hands. "Luke, I'm so sorry. I never meant to hurt you. I was just... scared. Scared of getting hurt again, scared of letting someone in."

Luke's eyes softened, and he leaned into her touch. "I know. I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have assumed the worst."

y/n shook her head, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "No, you shouldn't have. But I shouldn't have run away, either.” Luke smiled back, his eyes crinkling at the corners before y/n continued. "Maybe we can start over? Try this whole communication thing again?"

...

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d0youc0py · 5 months

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Hiii can ypu write something with the 141 boys and their wife who starts a new job and her male coworkers are obcessed with her and dobt believe she is happily married. Please and thank you

“John?”

“Yes, Honey?”

“Something interesting happened at work.” You said slowly. He turned in his office chair, leaning back with a heavy sigh.

“That so?” He hummed. His large hand grabbed your waist resting you on his leg. You hummed back running your fingers up and down the front buttons of his shirt. He leaned into you.

“Remember that guy at work I told you about? Harrison? Anyways, I was walking past his desk and I noticed it was empty. I asked my boss about it and she said he quit in a panic this morning.”

John nodded his head in agreement. “That is interesting.” He gave you a soft smile, running a hand up and down your back.

“John?” You asked again slowly. “What did you do?”

“My job.” He whispered leaning forward planting a quick kiss against your lips.

“Meaning…..” You trailed off swallowing hard.

“Protect you.”

“Did you kill him?” You whispered back, your eyes darting around as if someone was eavesdropping. A chuckle escaped him causing you to jump.

“No, sweetheart. I did gently urge him to fuck off though.”

“Si, can you pick me up please?”

You could hear him already getting his things over the phone.

“What happened?”

“Nothing serious. Remember that new guy I was training? Well he still hanging out in the parking lot and everyone has already left- it just doesn’t feel right.”

“Good Girl.” He praised. You could hear his truck starting. “I’ll be there in ten, just keep talking to me. How’s that book you’ve been reading?” His voice calmed you. You did as you were told, not bothering to question how he was going to make a thirty minute drive in ten minutes.

••••••••

He had made the drive in twelve minutes- the longest twelve minutes of your life.

“I’m outside, start heading down.” You breathed a sigh of relief opening the doors, the chilly night air hitting you.

“There’s my girl.” He quickly wrapped an arm around you giving you a peck on the top of the head. He opened the passenger side door of his truck, hoisting you up. He walked around to his side of the truck, leaning with his back against the door. His cold eyes staring directly into the grey car across the lot. It didn’t take long before the grey car tore out of the lot. Simon had a satisfied smirk on his face as he hopped into the truck. “I’m gonna start dropping and picking you up from now on, yeah? At least till that prick knocks it off.”

“Thanks, Si.”

“Mac! What’re you doing here?” Not that you weren’t excited to see him, he just wasn’t due home for another week.

“I missed you.” He murmured against your hairline.

“I missed you too.” You breathed, enjoying the way his cologne tickled your nose.

“I heard what you said on the phone, about our little problem.” His eyes scanned around your office building wondering who the group of bastards could be.

“Is that why you’re here? John you didn’t need to do that.” You assured, waving him off.

“Yes I do, Bon. This is your dream job and those bastards are already making you wanna quit- now point me in their direction and then we can go to lunch together, hmmm?”

“Please don’t make a scene Mac.” You whined tugging at his shirt. “How about I give you a tour and we just so happen to bump into them?”

He sighed, wanting nothing more than to give each one of them a black eye for how miserable they’ve been making you. But you and those damn puppy eyes outweigh his desire for blood.

“Alright. I might ‘accidentally’ trip one of them though.”

“How’s my pretty girl doin?” You could hear his smile on the other side of the phone.

“Best I’ve been in a week.” You smiled back. “I have a feeling I owe it to you.” You chirped, running your nails across the dinning room table.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, baby.”

“Yeah, sure. Well let me fill you in since you ‘don’t know.’ This morning I walked into work and you know those guys I was telling you about? The ones who take turns practically cornering me at my desk to ask if me and my husband are really ‘that serious’ and if I would like to go out with them for a ‘bitchin’ time’.”

“I do remember those guys, yeah.” Kyle mused from the other line. He wished he was there to see the air quotes he knew you were doing.

“Well this morning I walked in and they wouldn’t even look at me!” You cheered. “Ky, I don’t know what you did, but I owe you massively.”

“Don’t owe me a thing, pretty. Just happy you’re not scared anymore.”

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oliviajdjarin · 5 months

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Din Djarin: Come and Get Me

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!reader (she/her; afab)

Word Count: 2.1k

Summary: After a job leaves you trapped, you realize how much you have come to trust the legendary Mandalorian.

Excerpt: “Please don’t cry,” you heard him whisper, “please don’t cry, Y/N.”

“Come and get me,” you begged, “Din, please come and get me.”

“The house is likely on total lockdown,” he said. “There’s no way for me to get in.”

This only made you sob harder.

“Please, Din,” you said through gasps of air, “please don’t leave me alone.”

“I won’t leave you alone,” he said. It sounded like he was running now. “Not ever, you understand me?”

Warnings: claustrophobia, panicking, panic attack, crying, so much banter, dinny boy gets *stern, * but only because he is in love hehe.

A/N: happy dincember my people :)

Pedro Masterlist

All my writing

(gif credit to pinterest)

“Why are droids always so angry?”

A deep sigh arose through your comlink.

“Because everyone is always pushing their buttons.”

Silence.

“You’re holding back your laughter.”

“That is absolutely not what is happening,” Din responded, voiced husked with his ever-present exhaustion.

“I can feel it,” you countered. “You are actively killing braincells trying to hold it back.”

“That is not what is killing my braincells,” Din responded, and you gave a dry chuckle back.

“Just get the credits and get out,” Din said, “we have other jobs to do.”

“Yes sir,” you responded sarcastically, pulling down your mask. It was a soft obsidian fabric that covered everything but your eyes.

“Need I remind you it is your fault we are here in the first place?” Din asked, knowing it would push your own button.

Greef had known you since you were a kid, your parents always calling him a “close family friend.” In actuality, your parents were his most profitable bounty hunters, and they had worked with him until they physically couldn’t anymore.

Without hesitation, choosing you take their place.

They had trained you from birth, ingraining into you the strength, cleverness, patience, persistence, and of course the wit needed to be an adequate replacement.

In Greef’s own words, you were “more than adequate.”

You worked for him for over a decade before finally meeting the infamous Mandalorian. His name had been circling for a while before you met him, allowing him to climb the ladder of Greef’s good graces (a particularly slippery ladder, in your opinion), as well as the ladder of wealth. You didn’t mind at first, sticking to the lot of bounties Greef would assign you every month, and minding your business.

That was until this Mandalorian started getting your pick of the lot.

“He’s just as good as you are,” Greef had said to you. “Your skill sets are incredibly complimentary. It is best for me financially to have you both going at once.”

You scoffed into your drink. “Give me a break, smartass. Next thing I know it will ‘best for you financially’ to have us working together.”

“It was a joke, asshole,” you responded to Din. “I’ll admit, not one of my best.”

Din sighed and remained silent. After two dozen jobs together, he had learned how old that jab was becoming.

“Going in now,” you said quietly, pulling out your gun and – as quietly as you could – shooting through the lock on the front door of what had to have been the biggest house you had ever seen. The outside was made with some rare limestone that glimmered in the moonlight which, in your opinion, literally shouted “rob me.” The owners of this house had tricked Greef, running off with the sum of money he had owed you and Din for a previous job (quite convenient, if you said so yourself). Greef agreed to pay you and Din triple your original salary if you got it back for him.

And here you were.

The door squeaked on its hinges as you opened it, revealing a pitch-black living area. You took one step inside, and as you did, a generator must have kicked on, because the room was instantly lit up. You gasped, stepping back in fear of a possible alarm, but as you waited a few seconds, there was no such thing.

“You okay?” Din asked quietly. If you weren’t shitting your pants, you might have teased him for seeming like he actually cared.

“Yeah,” you responded, winded. “Yeah. Fine.”

You looked around the room, jaw falling open slowly as you did. It might as well have been a museum. Paintings, vases, chandeliers, stones, and jewels. You could tell one thing and one thing only.

Whoever these people were, they were fucking loaded.

“Hey, Din,” you asked.

“Yeah?”

“Did Greef say anything about being allowed to steal anything else?”

“Don’t even think about it.”

“Got it,” you said, and moved further into the house.

“Greef paid some gungan to have dinner with them, so there shouldn’t be anyone in the house.”

“I was at the meeting for this job, Din.”

“I know,” he said, “Just checking.”

His voice was laced with an undertone of…hurt. You didn’t have time to think about that.

“I’m headed to the master bedroom,” you said, weaving your way through objects worth more than you would ever see in ten lifetimes. “I’ll let you know when I find the box.”

“Alright,” Din responded, and you carried on.

You circled the first floor of the house, hemming and hawing at what seemed to be an endless supply of riches.

“Are we focused, Y/N?”

“Lazer,” you responded after almost touching the shiniest blue stone you had ever seen. “Nothing on the first floor.”

“Okay,” Din responded. “How-how you holding up?”

Your eyebrows wrinkled together. “Fine. How about you?”

“I’m good,” he said softly. “Just now realizing we have never done a job like this before. Me only hearing you through the comlink. I’m used to being next to you.”

“Oh, the poor Mandalorian, all alone in the desert, cursed with the job of keeping watch. You missing me big guy?”

“Just missing being faster than you,” he jabbed. “It’s good for my ego.”

“Har har,” you responded, opening the first door you found at the top of the stairs. “You can’t deny I give you a run for your money though.”

“You sure do,” he said, once again laced with emotion. What the fuck was with him?

And why did you keep noticing?

You opened the door and were welcomed by what had to have been the biggest bed you had ever seen in your life. It took up half the room, with the rest of it being looted with more treasures, including plants, shelves of books, and…

…a music box.

“Bingo,” you said.

“What does that mean?”

“It’s a game you play for fun,” you responded. “You wouldn’t be familiar with the concept.”

“Very original.”

“I’ll be here all night,” you said with a smirk, and walked to the box. You pulled it off the shelf delicately, feeling the weight of credits in the bottom. You laughed happily, unable to hold it in.

Din laughed too. He understood immediately.

You felt for the seal on the front and began to pull it open carefully. You got it about halfway open before it immediately shut, snapping your fingers into it.

“Mother –” you said, pulling your fingers out and holding them to your chest.

“You okay?” Din asked quickly, almost as soon as the word left your mouth.

“Yeah,” you said, flexing your fingers. You laughed lightly. “I think this house may be out to get me.”

As if you spoke it into existence, all the lights in the house suddenly shut down, soaking you in darkness. Strobe lights of red began to pulse on the ceiling, the door to the bedroom shut automatically, and an ear-piercing alarm permeated the room.

You were suddenly unmoving.

“Y/N?” Din asked, his voice a whisper above the alarms. “Y/N, what is that?”

The box fell from your grip.

“Din…” you said, chest constricting, muscles locking, brain failing. “Din…”

“What’s going on?”

You started shaking your head, making your way to the door slowly. You jiggled the doorknob, then pulled on it, then yanked on it, then threw your body into it.

It was no use. You were locked in from the outside.

“Din, I –” your voice cracked with a sob. “Din, I’m stuck.”

“What do you mean?” He sounded like he was walking.

“I’m-I’m trapped,” you said, sobs now fully escaping from your mouth. “Din I’m trapped. They know I’m here. They’re gonna…”

You couldn’t finish your sentence, hand cupping your mouth as you began to hyperventilate, because suddenly, you were a child again. Put up against one of your parents’ countless tests. Locked in a basement, or a ship, or your own room, forced to find a way out, told that in the real world, if you couldn’t find a way out, you would likely be killed.

You could never pasts their tests. Never.

“Din, they’re gonna kill me.”

“Shut up,” he said firmly. It sounded like he was moving faster. “You’re not gonna die.”

His tone was unconvincing.

“Din,” you cried, tears staining the fabric covering your face, snot soaking through it. Panic was seeping itself into your bones. “Din, what do I do? What do I do?”

“You’ve gotta find a way out.”

“I can’t,” you wheezed, body sliding down the door and onto the floor, the alarms and the red overstimulating your every nerve. “I can’t Din. It’s so loud,”

“Please don’t cry,” you heard him whisper, “please don’t cry, Y/N.”

“Come and get me,” you begged, “Din, please come and get me.”

“The house is likely on total lockdown,” he said. “There’s no way for me to get in.”

This only made you sob harder.

“Please, Din,” you said through gasps of air, “please don’t leave me alone.”

“I won’t leave you alone,” he said. It sounded like he was running now. “Not ever, you understand me?”

You nodded, now plugging your ears, and closing your eyes, rocking yourself back and forth subconsciously.

“I’m going to get you out of there,” he said, his voice suddenly nasally. “I swear to the maker I’m going to get you out of there. I just need your help, okay?”

You tried your best to gather breath. “Okay. Okay.”

“Okay,” he said. “I need you to see if there are any windows in the room. Can you do that for me?”

You swallowed, standing on shaking legs, ears still plugged. You squinted as you walked slowly, finally reaching a wall. You then felt the wall with one hand and walked forward until you felt something that resembled glass.

“I-I found one.”

“Good,” he said, sounding peculiarly winded. “Now, I’m going to need you to break it.”

You sobbed once more. “How?”

“Anything. Shoot at it, throw things at it, the fucking music box for all I care. Anything.”

You swallowed again, breathing in as deep of a breath as you could, before pulling out your gun. You felt the glass once again, and slowly backed away from it. You continued to release faint cries as you did, holding up your gun with quivering fingers, before letting blasts fly.

You heard some cracks as they landed against the glass. Once you halted your firing, you made your way back over to it, and realized they weren’t nearly enough.

“I’m going to have to kick it,” you said, some semblance of power returning into your voice.

Din didn’t respond.

You backed away again, breaths still rapid and voice still raw. But you gave that piece of fucking glass your all.

Your foot went right through it, cutting shards into your calf and ankle.

You grunted, falling back into the room.

“You get it?” Din asked, panting.

“Yeah,” you said, clutching your leg. “Yeah, I got it.”

“Good. Now stand up.”

You did.

“Walk to the window.”

You did.

“And jump.”

“What?”

“Jump now.”

It was in that moment that you realized that you truly, unequivocally, deeply trusted the Mandalorian. Because you jumped into the dark, cold night, and he caught you, mid-air.

You gasped as you landed in his arms, watching as the ground beneath you whizzed by, eyelids pealed back in awe.

A smooth, gloved hand framed your cheek and pulled your vision upwards, locking it into his visor.

You stared at him, the remnants of tears against the cold wind freezing your face, and yet his hand was the true culprit of your goosebumps.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly. The flames from his jet pack illuminating his armor in golds and reds.

You nodded. “I’m okay.”

He nodded, diverting his gaze to stare forward into the night, but keeping his hand pressed against your face.

You would say it was the shock, or the trauma, or the adrenaline pumping through your veins. In reality, all you wanted was comfort – his comfort. You couldn’t stop yourself.

You rested your forehead against the side of his visor and closed your eyes, scooting your body as close to his as possible as the two of you shot through the sky.

“Thank you, Din,” you said, tears escaping you once more. “Thank you.”

Din audibly swallowed, then removed his hand from your cheek and used it to remove your mask, before sliding his hand into the hair at the back of your neck.

“I swore to you I’d get you out of there,” he said, his voice crackly and weak. “I don’t break promises.”

You nodded against his visor, clutching desperately onto the fabric around his neck. He smelled of sweat, metal, and home.

“I’ve got you now,” he whispered. “I’ve got you.”

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inklore · 1 year

Text

home is where you're mine

premise: in nevarro you and din can finally breathe and spend your days christening every surface of your home.

pairing: din djarin x (f)reader

word count: 911

warnings: eighteen+ content, established relationship, riding, unprotected p in v, tiny little taste of possessive!din, domestic life, public-ish encounter, 'etyc' means dirty, 'mesh’la' means beautiful.

note: did i have an absolute panic attack over actually writing in the mando world instead of doing an au? yeah yeah i did, but thanks to my bbys @psychedelic-ink and @pedrito-friskito i got over it and wrote this filth <3.

The skin on Din’s neck feels as hot as your body does. The sun, having gone down hours ago, did little to cool the warm air—the humidity that’s clinging to your body and making sweat gather at your brow and run down your spine as your breath heaves your chest with your ministrations.

There’s an ache in the heel of your foot that you ignore. That does not deserve a second thought, maneuvering around, or changing of position when this one feels too good.

When Din is letting you take control, letting your fingers move to the only skin visible and hold onto it like a lifeline. Like you’d float away from the building pleasure if you didn’t have something, some kind of contact that wasn’t his gloved hand bunching up your dress at the top of your ass so he can grip and pull you down onto his length. The only helping hand he’s giving.

Since the two of you had made—what you hoped was—a permanent home in Nevarro. Until another bounty called Din away, now giving you a place to safely wait for his return. A cabin big enough for the three of you. A space that wasn’t covered in scrap metal and piles of weapons or debris.

You know, in truth, that you’d live under any conditions if it kept Din on your side. The child on your hip or by your feet.

But this place felt special. Like the three of you could finally take a deep breath and let your guard down for half a second without feeling remorseful over it.

The porch had quickly become Din’s favorite spot to relax. To put his feet up and watch the sky, the terrain—Grogu, as he basked in the daylight and played with his food.

Which is where you found him tonight after the child had drifted to sleep and the two of you were alone. The planet seemingly quiet when it knew the two of you needed it. When you leaned against the doorway and Din held out his hand to you. Pulling you into his lap. A calming silence shared between the two of you as you took in the stars.

A moment that seemed too good to pass up. To not continue to take advantage of the space you had been given to have Din inside of you.

No need to sneak around or find a darkened corner.

It’s as if the two of you needed to break in every surface within the new space. Home.

Your cheek pressed into the wall, a counter, a table. Your fingers leaving indents in the fabrics of seats, beds, and blankets. It was only right that you carry on that same streak in Din’s favorite spot.

“Should we-” he began, the shake of your head cutting him off as your hips rocked against him. As he grew the more your sweet whimpers fell, and your fingers danced along the beskar of his chest plate. “Etyc,” his gloved hand coming down to tap at your ass, making you grin.

It didn’t take long for you to free his cock and position him at your entrance. To get yourself this close from the motion of your hips, the angle making the fabrics of his pants rub against your clit with each gyrate. Each time he bucked up into you just a little harder than the last.

You let out a gasp when the warmth of his glove covers one of your breasts. His fingers pull down the—now—flimsy fabric from your shoulder to reveal it to him. To rub his thumb over your nipple in circles that make your moans grow in octaves.

“Mesh’la,” Din groans.

If this were in the darkness of your room, your roles would be reversed. Your vision cut off from him while he saw you in full. Running his mouth along your body. His teeth nipping at your breast until your body was pushing against him for more, to be filled by him.

And if you asked him to take you to your bed right now, he would. Happily. He’d draw out your orgasm by making you fuck his tongue, pulling away when you were at that precipice only to shove his cock inside your trembling walls. Repeating the actions until you’re begging him to let you come.

You have many nights for history to repeat itself, though.

Right now, you’re so close, and the way Din’s hips are moving in tandem with your own lets you know he is too. That neither of you could move even if you truly wanted to because your pleasure is too much. Coming to that crescendo that makes you see a galaxy behind your eyelids when you can feel him twitch against your clenching walls from reaching your climax together.

The gloved hand at your breast trails up the column of your neck, gripping your chin to bring your forehead to the warmth of his helmet before splaying the palm over your mouth. “The sounds you make when you come are just for me.” He grunts, your hips moving in unison one, two, three more times before you’re both coming. Your moans fall into his hand. Caught and absorbed by the fabric as your body clenches and trembles against him. The deep bravado of the groan he tries to bite back shakes your chest as you lay against him. “Mine,” mixed into the jumble of words he spews breathlessly.

#din djarin smut #din djarin x you #pedro pascal smut #din djarin imagine #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x y/n #din djarin blurb #pedro pascal x you #din djarin x f!reader

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torotauri · 2 months

Text

Trust Lost And Found | Kang Hyewon

804 Words

***

Hyewon's heart pounded with the rhythm of the music pulsating through the crowded nightclub. She danced with her friends, feeling the energy of the night coursing through her veins. Lost in the euphoria of the moment, she barely noticed the handsome stranger making his way through the throngs of people until he stood before her, his smile captivating.

"Hi there," he said over the music, his voice barely audible but his eyes sparkling with interest.

Hyewon returned the smile, her cheeks flushed with excitement. "Hi," she replied, shouting to be heard over the din of the club.

They exchanged names, shared a few laughs, and before Hyewon knew it, he was asking her out on a date for the next day. Caught up in the whirlwind of the moment, she agreed, the thrill of something new and spontaneous coursing through her.

The next morning, as sunlight filtered through the curtains, Y/N's heart felt heavy with a gnawing sense of unease. He couldn't shake the feeling that something was off, a nagging suspicion that lingered in the back of his mind like a shadow. Unable to ignore it any longer, he reached for Hyewon's phone, his hands trembling slightly as he scrolled through her messages.

What he found there made his blood run cold.

Messages exchanged with a stranger, plans made for a date. His heart sank as doubt and insecurity clouded his thoughts. Could Hyewon be cheating on him? The mere thought sent a wave of panic coursing through him, his stomach churning with fear and betrayal.

He marched upstairs to confront her, his heart pounding with a mix of anger and hurt. Bursting into her room, he found her getting ready, a look of surprise crossing her face as she saw him standing there, her phone clutched tightly in his hand.

"What's going on, Y/N?" she asked, confusion evident in her voice.

Y/N's hands shook as he held out her phone, his voice trembling with emotion. "Who is he, Hyewon? The guy you're planning to go out with?"

Hyewon's eyes widened in shock, her mind racing as she struggled to find the right words. "Y/N, it's not what you think-"

But Y/N wasn't listening. His mind was already made up, his heart hardened with the pain of betrayal. "I can't believe you'd do this to me, Hyewon," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I thought we had something special."

Tears welled up in Hyewon's eyes as she reached out to him, desperate to explain. "Y/N, please, you have to believe me. I would never-"

But Y/N was already turning away, his heart breaking with every step he took towards the door. "It's over, Hyewon. I can't do this anymore."

And with that, he was gone, leaving Hyewon alone with her tears and regrets.

Later that day, as Hyewon sat across from the stranger at a quaint little cafe, she couldn't shake the feeling of emptiness that gnawed at her heart. Despite the charming smile and the easy conversation, her thoughts kept drifting back to Y/N, the love she had lost because of one foolish mistake.

As the stranger leaned in closer, his intentions clear, Hyewon felt a surge of anger and defiance rising within her. She may have lost Y/N, but she refused to lose herself in the process. Pushing back from the table, she looked the stranger squarely in the eye, her voice steady with determination.

"I'm sorry," she said, her words ringing with sincerity. "But I have a boyfriend."

And with that, she walked away, leaving behind the ghosts of her past and the pain of her mistakes.

Meanwhile, Y/N sat alone in his room, the weight of his decision pressing down on him like a leaden weight. He had let his insecurities and doubts destroy the one thing that had ever truly mattered to him, and now he was left with nothing but regret.

It wasn't until Eunbi, Hyewon's best friend, came to visit him that he began to see the truth of what had happened. As she recounted the details of Hyewon's date, her eyes filled with sympathy and understanding, Y/N felt a glimmer of hope stirring within him.

Maybe it wasn't too late to make things right, to reach out to Hyewon and beg for her forgiveness. And this time, he vowed, he wouldn't let his fears and insecurities come between them.

Rushing out into the night, his heart pounding with anticipation, Y/N raced to Hyewon's apartment, his mind filled with thoughts of reconciliation and redemption.

And as he stood before her door, his hand poised to knock, he knew that no matter what happened next, he would never again let doubt and insecurity destroy the love he had fought so hard to find.

AN: I am Y/N

#kpop #kpop fanfic #kpopfanfic #kpop fanfiction #kpop fluff #kpop idols #izone #hyewon

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thefrogdalorian · 4 months

Text

Always

Din Djarin x GN!Reader

Word Count: 1588 Rating: General Summary: You wake up from an incredibly distressing nightmare in which Din and Grogu had suddenly vanished from your life without a trace. Fortunately, Din is there to console you with his comforting embrace and soothing words. He leaves you feeling optimistic about the future, rather than dreading what lies ahead for the pair of you. Content Warnings: Reader has a nightmare and panic attack! Author's Note: I opened up Google Docs and started churning this baby out minutes after the movie announcement yesterday. Until I see confirmation season 4 is in production I'll be spiralling that the show as we know it has ended, despite how excited I am to see Clan Mudhorn on the big screen!! I just needed to write this for some comfort for myself, but I really hope you enjoyed it too.

My Masterlist

Read on AO3

The presence of a large hand on your shoulder, gently shaking you, awakened you from the torturous visions that had overtaken your consciousness while you were sleeping. The nightmare had rocked you to your core, but the warm touch of Din’s hand on your shoulder brought you back from that terrible place that your mind had taken you to. Only seconds ago, you had been experiencing a hauntingly realistic nightmare where Din had disappeared from your life without a trace.

In the terrifying scene your mind had created, you arrived back – after running some errands in the centre of town – at the small cabin the two of you shared with Grogu on Nevarro to find it empty. The cabin was achingly quiet and still as you approached. There was no light, laughter or love; you had felt the bile rise in your throat at the realisation that all evidence of Din and Grogu’s existence had been inexplicably wiped from your life.

The numerous colourful drawings Grogu had created of your Clan of Three, usually pinned to the door of the cooling chamber with magnets, had vanished. As had the toys that were carelessly strewn across the rug in the main living area of the cabin – despite how frequently Din nagged the cheeky little boy to pick them up.

The ghosts of memories danced around you, haunting as you searched every inch of the desolate cabin for any explanation for their absence. The couch where you had often cuddled up with Din, feeling so warm and safe in his arms, was now heartbreakingly empty. But nothing had prepared you for the devastation you felt when you walked into the room you shared together with Din to find the assortment of shelves that he carefully stacked his Beskar armour and helmet on every night, after meticulously polishing them, lay completely empty.

At the sight of that, you knew something was seriously wrong. The armour was a second skin to Din, a part of his body; an extension of his person even when he was not wearing it. Without that it was as though he had somehow been erased, as though he had never existed in the first place. Din Djarin appeared to be nothing more than a figment of your imagination. You had shouted and screamed their names at the top of your lungs as you paced through the cabin, your voice growing more frantic with each passing second. But it was to no avail; it was as though Din and Grogu were never a part of your life. Their presence had abruptly vanished without warning or explanation.

Fortunately, Din's gentle, careful touch on your shoulder had roused you from the terrifying visions that had haunted you in slumber. As you lay there, a sheen of sweat growing cold across your forehead, your eyes took a second to adjust to the darkness. When they eventually did, the first thing that came into focus in your vision was the sight of Din peering down at you, his warm brown eyes full of concern.

It was a sight that instantly soothed your soul, but the rich, gravelly baritone of his voice reverberating through the night to console you calmed your shaken body and mind even further.

“It was just a dream, I’m here,” Din said calmly as he held your chin gently in one hand. “You’re safe, cyare. It was only a dream. I’m right here with you.”

“Din?” You murmured, feeling as hot tears scorched a path down your cheeks as you sat up to face him.

“I’ve got you,” Din said as he gathered you to him, his strong arms encircling your body protectively, his chin resting on top of your head.

“I thought… I thought you’d left,” You forced out between sobs. “I came back to the cabin and you’d… you were gone, Din…”

“I would never leave you,” Din asserted. He snapped his head up where it rested on your scalp and held you away from him, shaking his head as though disgusted by the notion. “I’ve got you, I’m right here by your side, always. I’m never leaving you, cyare, You know that, don’t you?”

You nodded weakly. “It was so real, though,” You choked, “It really felt as though you had left me forever, without even saying goodbye.”

“I would never leave you like that," Din said earnestly. "There is no reality where I would ever do such a thing."

Despite the conviction in Din’s voice, you remained unconvinced. The nightmare you had just woken up from had sewn seeds of doubt in your mind. Din led a dangerous life, after all. You had been under no illusions about that fact when you had met him. You knew that there were multiple reasons he might end up injured, or worse, during the course of one of his various jobs with the New Republic.

“But what if something happens to you one day and you’re taken away from me. Oh, Din, I don’t know what I’d do without you,” You whispered, feeling utterly shattered by the emotions you were currently experiencing.

“That’s not going to happen, cyare. I’ve made it this far, even after all the binds I’ve found myself in over the years. I think I’m pretty good at making it out alive, don’t you?” Din said, his tone light in an attempt to cheer you up, before he placed an achingly soft kiss on your forehead. But despite his gentle gesture, your anguished mind continued its journey to the worst possible conclusions.

“It’s not about how skilled you are, Din!” You exclaimed, a little harsher than you intended. You were spiralling now, frantically gulping air into your lungs to get the words out as your mind raced. “We don’t know what’s out there… the galaxy, there are so many threats. What about Thrawn and–”

“Shhh, shhhh, cyare. Please… that dark place in your mind with all of your worst fears… don’t go there,” Din said as his arms squeezed your waist tightly, before he reached for the back of your head and brought you against his warm, firm chest.

You stayed in that position for a few minutes, regaining your composure as your shaky sobs grew more infrequent and then eventually stopped. Then you drew your head back, looking up into the handsome, sympathetic face of the man you loved so deeply.

“I’m sorry, Din,” You whispered, shaking your head in frustration at how you had let your emotions get the better of you.

“You don’t need to apologise to me,” Din whispered, cupping your jaw and smiling softly at you, relieved that you had finally stopped sobbing and could manage making eye contact with him.

“I just can’t imagine my life without you,” You sighed.

“Well, don’t imagine that, cyare,” Din pleaded, his voice firm but quiet, as he added: “Don’t borrow grief from the future.”

You felt your eyes water at such beautiful words. It was a poignant way to relate to the uncertainty about what lay ahead in yours and Din’s lives. The Mandalorian you loved occasionally delivered such profound quotes that you felt almost overwhelmed by the depth and weight that his words carried. You just stared at him, completely awestruck.

Din’s perceptiveness of the world around him, with his analytical mind and how well he managed to articulate himself, filled you with such a deep sense of wonder that it was difficult to suppress the tears you had only just managed to halt.

“I won’t, Din,” You nodded, letting out a shaky breath. “I promise.”

“You know I will never truly leave you,” Din whispered. “Even if something terrible were ever to happen, I’d find a way to be with you again. Wherever we go after all this ends, I’ll be with you. Do you believe that?”

“Of course, I do, Din,” You nodded, hoping you managed to convey the certainty with which you believed his vow.

You knew that once Din Djarin set his mind to something, anyone who threatened to drive a wedge between him and that objective would curse the day they made such an unwise decision.

"Good. I'm not going anywhere, cyare. I'll be with you, always,” Din said as he stroked your cheeks tenderly with his thumbs, before leaning in to kiss your forehead softly. You closed your eyes and sighed at the contact, the emotion of the moment took your breath away. “Are you ready to get comfortable and try to get some more rest? I expect we’ll be able to manage a few more hours before the little womp rat bursts his way in here to wake us up.”

“Yes, Din,” You giggled at the affectionate nickname Din had for his son. The love you both held for that little boy was boundless.

Din lay back down on the cot and you rested your cheek on his bare chest, feeling instantly soothed at the skin-to-skin contact and the rhythmic beats of his heart.

In the harrowing nightmare that had left you so devastated, Din had left you all alone. He had been taken from you abruptly by forces unknown. But as you lay there, feeling your eyelids grow heavy as you listened to the faint thundering emanating from deep below in his chest… Din was very much by your side. You sighed, a small smile ghosting across your features.

You knew with absolute certainty that despite whatever forces conspired against you, in this galaxy or any, Din Djarin would be with you… always.

#my fics #din djarin fic #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x reader #pedro pascal characters #the mandalorian fanfiction #when people say fanfic is self indulgent YEAH they're talking about this sjhg wrote this for me but i hope others enjoy #save me din djarin...... din djarin save me..... save me din djarin...#din djarin fluff

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dockett · 1 year

Text

Flourishing II Din Djarin x Reader

Hello! I've seen this trope a few times across fandoms and I just eat it up. Had to hop on and write one of my own, I know flowers have been done before but I couldn't think of anything else. Hope you all enjoy!

Summary: On a planet new to you, Din falls into some flowers.

Warnings: very little plot, smutty as hell MDNI, fingering/oral f!receiving, unprotected piv

Word count: 2k

Din Djarin was not one to panic, but as soon those flowers tipped up into the underside of his helmet after it jostled loose from the fall, spreading the pollen up into his mouth, he was done for and he knew it. He coughed, sputtering to get as much out of his mouth as he could. He could hear you crashing down the ledge behind him, calling for him.

“Mando! Mando, are you okay?”

“I'm… I'm fine,” he replied. “We need to get back to the ship. Now.”

He could hear you swallow, hesitation clear in your expression, but you nodded all the same, and followed him back up the hill that he had tripped down. He was breathing hard, the anxiety beginning to set in by the time they got back to the ship.

He liked you a lot. He wouldn't deny that he would watch you as you moved around the ship, eyes peering from beneath the stoic helmet, or deny that he loved hearing you laugh, and it sent his stomach flipping every time that he heard it. He didn't want to ruin anything, he had wanted you to be able to choose when you would have him in your bed, and he would wait forever for that chance. But now, in this moment of sheer panic, he wasn't sure what would happen.

“Mando?” You called as soon as the door into the Razor Crest was up. He hardly looked at you, beginning to pace back and forth. “What's wrong?”

He didn't stop pacing, not until you walked up and stood in front of him, putting your hand on his shoulder. “We have a problem.”

You furrowed your brow and frowned. He pulled away from you, turning his back to you. His head dipped as he looked at his feet. He could feel the tingling sensation beginning, spreading out of his chest and out into his limbs. He began to harden.

“What's the problem?”

“I fell into those flowers,” he said. “I've done it before, and Maker, I'm a fool.”

You shook your head, not understanding. Din turned his head to speak to you over his shoulder. “The pollen. It acts like a signal, like a chemical. It's a natural aphrodisiac.”

“Oh.” You replied. Fuck. He thought.

He needed to leave, run as far as he could before it set in. He flinched as you touched his shoulder again, his body beginning to tremble. You brought yourself around him, reaching a hand up to the side of his helmet.

“Well. If I can help you, let me know,” you said. He shuddered, leaning his head into your hand as though he could feel the heat of your touch. His eyes drifted closed. If I can help, his mind repeated. He strained harder underneath his flightsuit.

“Maker,” he whispered, almost too quiet for the modulator to pick up on. His hands shot to your hips before he could stop them, he was losing composure. “I don't want to force you into anything.”

“You're not,” you said, and then laughed under your breath. “Do you have any idea how long I've wanted you?”

“Yes,” he replied. “Because I've wanted you since the day I met you.”

It was your turn to shudder.

He leaned his forehead down, pressing his helmet to yours. You closed your eyes, feeling his hands squeezing your hips tighter. His chest was beginning to move faster, his breathing growing slightly more erratic. He pushed you back into the wall, bringing his thigh between your legs. He rubbed up against you.

“Din Djarin,” you said meekly. “I'd like you to take me to your bunk.”

He wasted no time, grabbing your hand in his and leading you to his room. The door closed behind you and you heard the soft command of, “Close your eyes.”

You did so without question, even though the room was dark, and his hands touched you, now gloveless. Your skin was hot to the touch and it felt like it was burning his palms, searing your brand into him. He guided you backward until your knees hit the bed, and you felt yourself fall back. You landed on the mattress, keeping your eyes closed.

He knew you wouldn't open them unless he asked. He trusted you, with or without the arousal flooding his veins. He reached up, pulling off his helmet and walking to the desk on the other side of the room. He set it down, and very quickly, more sloppy than he'd want to admit, he took off his armor. Then, after discarding the beskar, he reached for you, listening to your breath hitch when he touched you.

He squeezed your hips, encouraging you to scoot up the bed. You did so until he tugged you to a stop. His hands roamed then, over your thighs, across your stomach, even up over your clothed breasts. He worked back down, breathing hard as he pushed up your shirt to reveal your stomach. You gasped into his mouth when he leaned down and kissed you. It went straight through him, causing his cock to throb.

Your lips were soft against his, and when he licked over your bottom lip, you let him in. His tongue swirled against yours, and he groaned as he tasted you. It occurred to him then, he hadn't wiped off the pollen from his chin and mouth. He reluctantly pulled away and then kissed down your neck to your shoulder.

You grasped his shoulders tightly, back arching your chest into his. He rose over you, pulling your shirt off over your head. Your breasts were bared to him, and you cried out when he took your left nipple into his mouth. He began to rut against you, unable to stop himself. He needed to feel you everywhere.

He pinched the other one between his fingers, working it while he sucked and pulled on the one in his mouth. His head felt heavy as he inhaled your scent, letting go of your nipple with a loud ‘pop!’ You cried out, falling back to the bed. Your eyebrows were furrowed, eyes still shut tightly.

He worked his way down your body, pulling off your pants and underwear. He needed them out of his way. He settled between your thighs, kissing up and down the inside of your right leg. He came back to the apex of your thighs, and then licked through your folds.

“Look at me,” he purred against you, his eyes gleaming in the dark.

You shook your head and he gently bit into your left leg. You yelped, hips bucking off the bed. He chuckled, arms wrapping up around your thighs and pushing them back down.

He nibbled, and then kissed the agitated skin. “Look at me,” he repeated. You brought yourself up onto your elbows, and your eyes slowly pried themselves open. Your eyes fell onto his, and fire ignited within him, burning through his stomach and out into his body. He wanted you to see how delirious you made him. He wanted to be vulnerable with you.

He pushed his hips down into the bed and began swirling his tongue around your clit. Your eyebrows furrowed again, your jaw dropping as a soft moan dropped from your lips.

“Good girl,” he hummed against you. He couldn't get enough of you, drinking in your form in the dim lighting, beginning to squirm and writhe under him. You were hot against him, thighs starting to flutter around his head, and he rutted harder into the bed.

“Din, please,” you cried out. “Need more.”

It was music to his ears. He brought around his right hand, pressing a finger into you. You groaned, falling back into the bed, one hand shooting to his hair. You gripped it tight, and when he felt that delicious pull he moaned, “Cyar’ika.”

Another finger joined the first and he curled them inside you. He continued to work your clit with his tongue and lips, setting a pattern and rhythm. It didn't take long for you, and the way you were moaning all for him had him increasing his pace until you reached your breaking point.

He was entranced, watching you, memorizing the way you shook and clenched around his fingers as you came. He panted as you began to come down, pulling away and removing his fingers. He palmed himself through his flight suit before you were sitting up, frantically trying to get him to remove it. He chuckled at you, grabbing your wrists and pushing you back down onto the bed. You leaned up to kiss him, mouths slotting together perfectly.

He moaned your name as he pulled away. He peeled himself out of the last vestiges of clothing and got back on the bed between your legs. He pushed his cock against your vulva, covering himself in your juices and his saliva. Your breath hitched and you said, “I want you inside of me.”

The Mandalorian pushed himself into you slowly as your legs rose to his chest. He sighed, relieved at finally being inside your tight heat. He brought his lips to the inside of your calf, kissing it before nibbling on it. You cried out, hands gripping the blankets tighter. He started to thrust in and out of you in earnest, hands bruising your hips.

Feeling overwhelmed, he closed his eyes and focused on each and every sound you made. He brought his thumb to your bruised clit, pressing into it in tight little circles. You came again, and it took everything in him not to cum then and there, no matter how much he wanted to. He was enjoying himself too much to let it go.

He folded you, bringing up both your legs and pressing them down towards the bed. Impossibly, he hit you deeper than before, bottoming out with every thrust. You keened, nails digging down his arms. He pressed again with his thumb, and your eyes rolled back. Your lips parted, but no sound came out. You didn't even take a breath, instead tightening up around him over and over. He watched as you came unraveled once more beneath him.

You breathed hard, and Din slowed down, giving you a good hard thrust before pulling out completely. You whined at the emptiness, and he rolled you both over, helping you get on top of him. He stared up at you, hands roaming over your boobs and sides, encouraging you gently to take him again.

You complied quickly, hands guiding him inside of you before spreading over the man's chest. He helped you get your rhythm, pushing you up and down before letting his hands fall to your thighs where he gripped them hard. You ground against him, leaning down so your chest was in his face. He eagerly sucked in a nipple, moaning at the salty taste of your skin. You groaned in response.

He loved everything about this. You sat up and he followed you, trying to keep a hold of your nipple. Your hand shot up then, grasping at his neck. You gave it a soft squeeze, clearly testing the waters, and Din loved it. His eyes rolled back, and he moaned louder than he had all night, a string of words in Mando’a. He moved his hands, pushing you down onto him more forcefully, and then his back arched under you. His body tightened, pressure finally releasing as he came inside of you, pushing himself as deep as he could go.

Your hand squeezed his neck ever so slightly, and his body jerked. You continued to chase another orgasm, riding him until you came. He hissed as you slowed to a stop, thighs shaking hard underneath his hold. You had cried his name, head tossed back as you arched your spine. His eyes closed as your hand left his throat.

You fell down on top of him, and he immediately wrapped his arms around you, keeping you pressed close to him. He kissed your temple.

“Round 2?” You mumbled. He chuckled, feeling his cock twitch inside of you.

“Yes,” he replied. “Anything for you, cyar’ika.”

#din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x y/n #the mandalorian #fanfic #din djarin smut #feedback welcome #dockett1109

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chaotic-iguana · 9 months

Note

Any or all of your characters washing readers hair for the first time.

yes yes yes please this is so good. let’s do it. lemme know what you think.

din djarin/javi peña/joel miller x reader.

masterlist.

washing your hair ficlets:

——————————————————————————————————

Javi:

angst, violence, hurt/comfort, allusions to sa

“Lean your head back for me, hermosa. That’s it.” His fingers run through your hair gently, untangling it before reaching behind you for the soap, lathering it in his hands before bringing them to your scalp. Your eyes are lined red with tears, the adrenaline crash leaving you with crippling fear. You’d gone after a lead blind, without waiting for backup, and the sicarios who cornered you had made it too clear what they had no fear doing to a female DEA agent. Choking on a sob, you watch Javi’s eyes soften in concern before pulling you into his chest. “It’s okay now cariño, I’m right here. I’ve got you.” Stroking the back of your head under the shower’s spray, he washed the soap out while soothing you softly.

Joel:

angst, near death experiences, hurt/comfort

Too close. It had been too damn close with that clicker, and you both knew it. It had barely been an inch away from biting your arm when you twisted a blade into its neck. Back in Jackson after rushing back from the patrol, he practically ripped your clothes off of you, overwhelmed by the need to make sure you were okay. Safe. He pulled you into the shower, his hand never once leaving your body - grasping at your hand, shoulder, your waist. His hands were so gentle, even when running the soap over your body, as if he were afraid you would shatter under his touch. Like a mirage; an illusion flickering away to mock him, once again, of what he had lost.

But you didn’t falter for a second, standing solid. Unyielding. Turning to face the faucet, you passed him the shampoo and let him card it through the matted, tousled tangles running down your back. The act of service, of monotony and repetition: detangling the hair, spraying it with water, rubbing soap into your scalp and rinsing it out - Joel needed this, and you knew. So you stood silently, letting his touch ground both of you.

Din:

fluff! din tries doing the nicest things for his wife and you cannot convince me otherwise.

Din could die a happy man. He’d rented a room at an inn, dropping Grogu off with Karga for a few days alone with you after your riduurok, and here you were, chest-to-chest in his arms as you both lounged lazily in the bathtub. Such a mundanity - a luxury to him, but a mundanity to most. One that had quickly become the favorite part of both your routines.

When he’d revealed his face to you, you were so overwhelmed you’d broken down sobbing; making him panic and spiral immediately. It wasn’t until your face scrunched up mid-cry and you mumbled something about it being so unfair that he was this beautiful and no one would know that his mind halted its panicked ramblings and he just stood to stare at you for a while. Beautiful? At the questioning look on his face, you’d sniffed and practically chastised him for being confused. At his amused, “I’m not beautiful, mesh’la, you are.” you’d frowned and said you’d prove it to him. Which involved many, many activities in various locations, one of them being washing his hair for him.

Din couldn’t understand it from a practical point of view alone at first. Why would someone else wash your hair when you could do it yourself? It was the most menial part of his routine, one he barely gave any thought to, before you shushed him sternly and told him to turn around, Mandalorian, before I make you. Of course, your threat held no weight - you were a whole foot shorter than him, and you thought twice before hurting flies, but he’d obeyed it all the same.

When your fingers first grazed his scalp, he’d nearly purred and leaned further into your touch. The way you tugged so softly on his tousled curls to pull them apart with a level of care that nearly brought tears to his eyes only made him fall deeper in love with you. And the adorable look of complete focus on your face, tongue poking out from between your lips as your brows furrowed in concentration made him want to kiss you, too. And he did, until you were both breathless and giggling in each other’s arms. It was the best thing anyone had ever done for him. And so today, he manouevered you into his lap and rested your head on his shoulder. Reaching down to peck at your lips, your nose, and your fluttering lashes, he could melt, beskar and all, at the sight of the smile you blessed him with now, followed by a giggle that made him feel a little dizzy. He brought his hands up to the loose braid you’d tied your hair into, and tenderly smoothed it out, wetting your hair and stroking it with such love that couldn’t help but reach up to kiss the corner of his mouth.

Very few would classify your riduur as a creature of comfort. What they wouldn’t know was that after long hunts or tough days, he’d take care of you with the most loving act he’d been shown - washing your hair.

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

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bakerstreethound · 1 year

Text

The Scars Between Us

Relationship: Din Djarin x reader

Warnings: angst, hurt, mentions of nightmares, slow to comfort, soft scared Din

Summary: Din is terrified when he almost loses you on a mission, one where you protected him, the scar you bear reminding him of his failure. He can hardly look at you, let alone touch you or think about doing so. What happens when you confront him on the matter?

All writings belong to me @bakerstreethound (Do NOT copy, repost, claim, or translate my works to other sites. I only publish here and on A03 under the same username)

Word Count: 2.1k+

A/N: Duh nuh, I have returned with a slice of Din angst. This man desperately needs to be held and loved despite his protests. I hope you all enjoy! As always, comments and reblogs are most appreciated! Graphic by @firefly-graphics

Every time he closes his eyes, the same image surfaces. The blood, the raining of blaster fire, the wails of the child, screaming villagers. There you were in the thick of it with him fighting off the troopers who’d decided to infiltrate the seedy bar you convinced him to retrieve information.

Then the part that doesn’t leave, hasn’t left his dreams, borderline rising to nightmare when you turn yourself, grasping onto his arm, spinning in front of him, taking the bullet to your shoulder, it grazes you, but the sneer on youe lips, eyes hiding the upcoming agony is what plays over and over, dragging Din further down, scared and afraid of the danger he put you through. It made it even harder for him to look at you each day he wakes since that fateful day.

What would he do without you? He did that to you, couldn’t keep you safe, Maker, he failed both you and the child.

He takes a deep breath, shifting in his bed, reaching out for something, but met with only the emptiness of his bunk. Empty. The cooing he’d grown so accustomed to was nowhere to be heard. Almost in a panic he grabbed his helmet, shirt and pant hanging loosely on him then he hears your voice, talking softly from down the corridor in your quarters.

“I told you I’m fine, silly.” He hears your voice and he fights with himself as he continues watching you beneath his helmeted gaze, a silent centurion, but he still can’t tear the images from his nightmares away from the fringes of his memory, threatening to destroy him, consume him night after night, day by day. Still, he stands there, listening, not wanting to interfere, he knew the risks of having you near him in the line of fire.

Oh, but he didn’t expect to fall this far.

******

You shunned attachments, everything it involved, but now, you saw why it got in trouble, for you knew now you found the family you could always dream of not some distant future far out of your reach but in the end it was worth fighting to protect to have something of yours that you could live with to see everyday of your life.

You tug off your shirt, barely wincing in pain. You wouldn’t change what had happened, knew it was right, heck you hoped it had been helpful in the long run and there. The child babbled next to you, seeming content in your presence despite the bloodied bandage wrapped around your lower stomach and shoulder. Your body bore many scars, these are worth more than anything, you find yourself thinking, letting the thoughts wash over you.

“Don’t worry, kid, it barely even grazed me, I got out just in time, remember?” You pull the Child in your arms, his hand wandering over your skin, gripping your bicep, clinging desperately, his eyes looking up at you in concern, his other hand reaching towards the blaster wound on your shoulder. “I told you, it’s going to be fine, silly.”

“You got lucky.” Din’s modulated voice fills the room as he leans against your doorframe, head tilted slightly, watching you, Underneath the helmet though, he tries to hold back his own wince of pain as he watches Grogu babbling, trying to climb up your arm to reach your injured shoulder. He notices the way you try not to wince, let your pain show, another reminder that it’s his fault he couldn’t protect you, could’ve saved you from harm or something far worse. He doesn’t want to think of the alternative, swallowing the growing lump in his throat.

You feel his presence, but don’t acknowledge him, you wouldn;t trade what you did for the entire galaxy. Grogu’s persistent on your arm but you try not to wince again, trying your best to not fall deeper into your mind, this beautiful shattering trainwreck the insides of your body and mind have become. It hurts you to think of him, thinking of him dead in your arms, hands falling from your face tears and sobs threatening to wrench from your throat.

You knew that would be a chance again to have him every single change you got. If you were a machine it would be your only objective to see him from harm. You weren’t ready to see him die. You couldn’t do it couldn't live without him near his warmth everything of his you valued most dear. You couldn’t imagine a galaxy with him., down on your knees you prayed to whatever being who could help, heal your fractured soul, it mattered naught.

“I couldn’t let them hurt you, Din. I would do it again in a heartbeat.”

“I could’ve handled it, you scared me, I was afraid I lost you.” His hands reach up, grazing your jaw, you try not to fall for this, for him, but it was all for naught, you can’t help but allow yourself to lean into him, but just as quick his hand is there, he pulls away as if he were burned.

“Din, please,” you hate how broken your voice sounds. You know this is something he can’t handle to admit, but the space between you is a growing void, searing hot, stinging you deep down more than you;d like to admit. It only grows when he sighs heavily, turning towards the door to his bunk, the door whooshing in his wake.

******

Days pass he can barely stand to be in the same room with you for five minutes. Why did he think you were afraid of him? Was this such a mistake to fall for him in this manner? Why did it all come down to this? Was it so hard for him to understand?

By now, your wounds had healed at a good rate and you hadn’t lost much more blood. Grogu clinging to your bicep didn’t hurt much anymore. You hate how the twinge your heart makes when you make eye contact with Din’s helmet visor, wanting to see his face, you can only imagine the expression on his face every time you pass by

Anger

Resentment

Fear

Shame

What you don’t know, however, is the ever present anguish and sorrow trailing after him like a haunted specter, pulling him back to where you’re running out in front of him, taking not one but three blaster shots from him, the way your body goes limp for a fraction, phasing you, but he shakes his head trying to tear himself from the nightmare. Of all the bounties and marks he collected, he’d seen enough of his fair share of bloodshed but that was different before you joined him on one mission which turned into another…and another.

Somehow, you were different. When he saw you take the hit, he felt deep down, his heart wince, you made him crave your companionship….you mattered to him. More than he could possibly fathom. More than he dares to admit to himself.

To make matters more complicated, Grogu had become attached to you by the by and he can’t exactly say no to the little guy. Din sighs, walking down the corridor past your door, noticing it open a fraction, he stands before it, debating. He knows it's futile to ask about Grogu, he can hear him babbling happily in there, no doubt entertained by one of the countless games you played to keep him entertained on long missions or while traveling through deep space.

Grogu’s gaze hovers long over the door, and you grimace, bracing yourself as you shift to maneuver off the bed. Should you do this? Why did it matter? You tried not to care too much but this? You couldn’t bear to fathom a life without either of your precious beloveds.

You knew his presence all too familiar, you don’t know why you can’t ignore the unbearable ache rising again, while you find yourself oh foolishly calling out, “Din? You can come in. Grogu wants to see you.” You’re right by the door, its still cracked open, a hint of beskar flashing through and it widens, and you’re brought back staring into his visor, your insides twisting in knots, the invisible sharp thread of longing poking out and taunting you no matter how hard you tried to deny it. It was inevitable at this point. You cared too much for him. You cared too much about the Child.

He cocks his head, and you step aside, smiling gently at Grogu playing with one of the many baubles and trinkets you had on your side table from previous adventures. He gurgles, happy as a clam, giggling when Din sits next to him on your bed.

“He’s happy.”

But are you? You bite back yout tongue, you’re not sure what to say, everything escaping you when his hands reach up, the familiar hiss of his helmet filling the empty void, the countless voids between you, and your met with a familiar, yet unfamiliar sight.

Piercing soft brown eyes, brows furrowed in a mixture of sorrow, shoulders slumping the more you study the planes and ridges of his face. The legend, Mando, the Mandalor. To you he was Din and always would remain, yet it aches the anguish in the lines along his lips, him wanting to reach out and reassure you he’s the one who is fine.

“Please tell me what’s wrong?” You take a step closer to the bed, ignoring Grogu’s gurgle of protest as Din leans down to murmur something to him quietly, a lopsided ghost of a grin whispering along his lips.

How you ache to trace his lips, rememorize him but your brain retaliates, screaming at you everything about this situation is wrong, that is until you sit next to him on the bed, your hand ghosting along the side of his face, as he watches, avoiding your gaze still, swallowing when you finally trace your finger along his skin.

“Please?” You try again, the anguish prevalent you don’t dare disguise it anymore, noticing his chest heaving. His heart races but when he meets your gaze, he tries so hard not to flinch when your hand skims along his lips, his heart skipping a beat.

“Can’t…cyar’ika…” his hands drop to your waist pulling you closer, one stroking your chin; tilting you up to meet his gaze.

Your own heart races, fearing you were the one to do something wrong. Hell your instincts kicked in at the most inopportune time and you just wanted, something inside you screamed, to protect him, you couldn’t lose him or the kid. It was you or them, you wouldn’t have changed anything about what you did.

“I wouldn’t change anything I did that day, Din. I need you to understand that, okay?”

He swallows once more, “But I was supposed to protect you…don’t want you hurt.”

You press your forehead into his more, fumbling with his hands, trying to get your point across, desperately hoping to the Maker you wouldn’t mess this up and make a fool of yourself, the feelings you tried to keep hidden long ago from resurfacing. “I knew the risks since the beginning, Din. But I care about you…”

The silence is deafening before he takes a shaky breath. “That’s why I can’t lose you…I wouldn’t know…” his breath catches, “Grogu and I wouldn’t know what to do without you.”

“And you’ll never have to find out Din. I’ll be here with you both always, as long as you’ll have me.” You dare to reach up, stroke the fine lines of his face, his eyes closing shut at the touch, leaning into you a fraction. “ Don’t think I won’t do everything in my power to save your ass if it comes to harm, alright?” He nods, burying his face in your neck as you pull him closer, thanking the Maker you’ve come to an understanding.

The void within you quells, hope blossoming in your chest while you stroke his back, relishing the soft groans from him as he pay back his dues in full, intent on making up for lost time.

After all, it did take you getting shot for you both to admit the mutual affection….but you would make up for it with the times the universe bestowed upon you.

******

#the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian imagine #star wars imagine #pedro pascal

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millersdjarin · 1 year

Text

I Only See Daylight

Chapter Nine

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader

Rating: E

Chapter Warnings/tags: past arranged/forced marriage, cults, religious trauma, religion disillusionment, bonding, THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED, panic attacks

Chapter length: 4.8k

Previous Chapter | Series Masterlist/Info | Full Masterlist

notes: enjoy, friends!

maybe you ran with the wolves and refused to settle down; maybe i stormed out of every single room in this town

“Do you ever just pull faces at people under there?” You ask from your place on the edge of the bed as you run a brush through your wet hair.

Mando is standing at the bedroom window, leaning his arm against the frame, brushing against the velvet curtains. The morning Corscant sun is glinting off of his armour. He turns to you. “Why would I do that?”

“Because they can’t see you, and it’s funny. Like a little joke to yourself.”

The helmet tilts, amused. “No, I don’t.”

“You should. Just pull the weirdest face you can think of. No one would know.”

He doesn’t respond. Just stands there, still as a wall, staring at you.

A grin spreads across your mouth, showing your teeth. “Are you doing it now?”

“…Maybe.”

You laugh, lightness bubbling in your chest, and shake your head. “You’re going to start doing that now, aren’t you? Just to mess with me without me knowing?”

He hooks his thumb over the belt around his hips, props his weight onto one leg. Kriff, he looks good. If you could, you’d jump onto his body and climb him like a fucking tree. “I might.”

Still smiling, you put down the hairbrush and turn around to grab your socks from the bed beside you. The covers are folded back, pillows in disarray.

You had shared the bed last night.

Not at first. Mando still needed to eat dinner, so you went to sleep first, sunk into the soft bed and burrowed yourself in the sheets. It was so comfortable, so soft, like nothing you’ve ever felt before. The mattress hugged your body just right, didn’t press on any sore points. Your shoulder hurt, of course, but you managed to drift off despite that, just focusing on the warmth and comfort of this fancy bed.

When you’d stirred a while later, the lights were all off, just a little pillar of it shining through a gap in the curtains. The door was shut; you’d left it open. You turned, and Mando was there, lying on his side facing you, wearing just his flight suit and helmet. His blaster was tucked under the pillow behind his head, and you couldn’t tell if he was awake or asleep.

No covers were on him, since you had bundled yourself up into a little cocoon; you started to unwrap yourself, then draped the duvet over the lower half of Mando’s body, gently letting your hand run over the fabric of his suit over his waist as you pulled away.

“You okay?” He’d asked into the quiet.

You almost startled at his voice. “Yes,” you said. There were several feet between you—the bed is big—and every inch of you wanted to close that space, shuffle closer to him and put your arm around his waist. “Are you? Did I wake you?”

He reached out his hand then, untucking it from his chest, and laid it on the mattress between you with his palm facing the ceiling. His bare palm, ready for you to take hold of.

You did, of course. Rolled over onto your good shoulder, then softly threaded your fingers together, breathless at the feeling of his bare skin on yours. You could even feel the warmth of his wrist, his flight suit sleeve pushed up just a little, giving you access to his pulse point. You leaned in, craning your neck because you weren’t sure if he’d mind if you shuffled closer, and pressed a kiss there. Maybe he wouldn’t remember this in the morning; maybe that’d be for the best.

“Go back to sleep, Mesh’la,” he’d said softly, almost a whisper. “I’m here.”

And when you woke up, he was already out of bed, and you could hear the shower running in the bathroom.

Now you’re both up, both showered and dressed, and the kid is waddling in from the living quarters where you’d plopped him in front of a HoloNet show for kids. He runs over to Mando, who scoops him up and holds him in the crook of his arm, both of them now looking out of the window.

You smile at the sight. Honestly, you could look at them for hours, the way they quietly communicate with each other, Mando pointing at things out there that Grogu might want to see. Your heart warms, that contented heat flooding your chest.

Mando orders food for you for breakfast, and it’s delivered to the suite in ten minutes. Hot pastries and stewed fruits, and a huge pitcher of caf. There’s a round dining table in the suite’s living room where the two of you sit while you eat, Grogu opting to sit on the floor by the coffee table instead.

You watch him, then look back to Mando, who always sits with you when you’re eating, even though he doesn’t eat at the same time.

“Can I ask you something?” You ask into the comfortable quiet, tearing off a piece of pastry before putting it in your mouth. It’s flaky and sweet.

“Always.”

“How did the two of you meet?”

He doesn’t tense like you’d almost expected him to. Instead, he leans his arms on the table, tilts his helmet back to look at the kid. “He was a bounty.”

“A bounty? The kid?”

“Yeah. His powers were…unprecedented. Special to…”

You raise an eyebrow. “To everyone, I guess? I can see why a kid who can heal poisoned wounds would be sought after…”

“It wasn’t just everyone,” Mando says, then turns back to you. “It was…the Empire.” He lowers his voice, like he doesn't want the kid to hear him say it.

You frown deeply, dread hitting your stomach. “The…the Empire.”

“Yes. What was left of them. They wanted…” he turns around again. The kid isn’t listening, too busy munching on pieces of pastry. But Mando still stands up and flicks on the HoloNet. “Hey, kid, you wanna watch that show you like?” He asks, flicking through the channels until he finds Grogu’s favourite. Grogu coos happily and turns so he’s leaning against the coffee table leg and gazing up at the moving pictures in front of him. (While still eating his breakfast, of course. Nothing could distract him from his food.)

Mando comes back, but doesn’t sit opposite you at the table, instead coming to sit in the seat beside yours. You turn to him, crossing one leg over the other.

“I just don’t want the kid to have to hear it all again,” Mando explains quietly.

You glance to Grogu, who hasn’t even twitched an ear at hearing ‘the kid’, like he normally does. One of Mando’s gloved hands is on the table, the other fiddling in his lap, rubbing his thumb and forefinger together.

He sighs heavily. “They wanted his blood. Thought that they could get the Force out of it, or something, and use it to rebuild the Empire.”

“…The Force.”

“Yeah. His powers are…he’s a Jedi,” he says, like he’s only just realised he’s never said those exact words to you.

“Holy shit.”

“Sorry, I…I thought you knew.”

“I…had considered it. But you never told me outright, and I didn’t want to pry. Figured you didn’t talk about it to keep him safe.”

Mando nods. His hand on the table moves towards you, but stops after a beat. “When I found him, I didn’t know who’d set the bounty. I took him to them, and that’s when I found out. I left him there, even though I knew he was a kid, and I knew who I’d left him with.” His voice is heavy with shame, and he hangs his head, not looking at you anymore. Like he can’t.

“But you’re together now,” you say, soft, “so…”

“I broke the Guild code. I went back for him, I killed every Imp in that place, and took him away. After that, we were wanted by every bounty hunter, Guild member, and Imp in the Galaxy.”

Your eyebrows raise a little. You look at his hand, wondering if he’d want you to hold it, or if he just needs his space. The emotion in his voice is clear, even through the modulator. “You ever get caught?” You ask, unsure if you want to hear the answer.

“Yes. I almost died with an injury to my head; I got Dune to take the kid away. I was ready to die to keep my helmet on.”

A huge stab of both pain and fear strike through your chest. You knew the helmet meant a lot to him, knew that it was his Creed. But to prefer to die than let someone see his face…and for him to have kissed you yesterday…what has he been through that changed him so much?

“How’d you survive?” You ask, unsure you want to hear any more about how he almost died. The thought of him not being here is unbearable.

“I was with a droid. Technically, him removing my helmet still meant no living thing had seen my face. That was the first time I bent the rules.”

Your heart leaps. With what, you’re not sure.

“We’ve been through a lot. They took the kid from me, once. I thought I’d never see him again.” He’s still not looking at you, just gazing at the floor between you, fingers still fidgeting. You’ve never seen him like this; never seen him not willing to look at you or the person he’s talking to. His voice is heavy, and you can almost see the weight on his shoulders, pulling him down to the ground more than any of that armour ever has.

They took the kid.

You can’t help it. You reach out, grasp his hand on the table. A part of you expects him to pull away, to tense up at your touch. But he doesn’t. He turns his hand over so he can hold yours in return.

“You got him back,” you whisper.

“I did. But I lost him again soon after.”

“What—what happened?”

He sighs again. Pauses, letting tense quiet linger on, only the sound of Grogu’s show filling the room. “My quest was to take him to his own people. After a long time of searching we found Jedi, and one of them came to take him to be trained, to teach him how to use his powers.”

Your heart lurches. “You let him go?”

“Yes.” His voice shakes.

“Oh, Mando,” you squeeze his hand, wanting to reach out and hold the back of his neck. “That must have been so hard. I don’t think I could have done the same thing if I were you. I mean, look at him.” You jerk your head in the direction of the kid, then do exactly that: look at him, feeling tears well in your eyes at the possibility of him ever being separated from Mando. And, surprisingly, at the possibility of him being separated from you.

That’s a lot, but you don’t let yourself dwell on that thought right now. It’s not the time.

“It was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do,” Mando says, and it’s so genuine, so soft and quiet, that it sounds like a confession. His voice shakes, his breathing trembling through his helmet. “That was when I took my helmet off for him. He wanted to see my face before we parted ways.”

“Oh,” you breathe. “That was the second time you…?”

“No,” he admits, quiet. “There was another time. It was…for him, when I was trying to save him. I was hacking a data portal to find where they were holding him, and it had to scan my face. Then I got near-interrogated by some Imps with it off, and…the guy I was with saw my face, too.”

You nod. You want to ask him more about that, about what he said last night: that things are changing. That he isn’t believing the things he used to believe. That he is starting to think he could take his helmet off in front of you.

You want to ask so badly, but you bite your tongue. He’ll tell you when he’s ready. He already promised you that. And he sounds so ashamed by this, like he can’t shake the weight of it.

“So how’d you find your way back to each other?” You ask, giving his hand a squeeze as you look across to the kid again, smiling softly.

Mando’s shoulder’s shake once, a huff of laughter coming through his modulator. He shakes his head, almost in disbelief. “He found his way to me. I’m still not sure what went down, but all I know is he had the choice between his Jedi training and me. And…”

A smile creeps on to your lips. “He chose you,” you say, a breath.

He nods. You wonder what expression graces his face. By the shakiness of his breath, he might even be a little teary.

You slide your hand up his arm, your fingers lifting to trace the cool beskar on his forearm, dipping again into the flight suit at his elbow. Then back down again. “That’s amazing,” you say, because you can’t think of any other way to put it.

“I was on Tatooine. The Jedi’s droid flew him back, and my friend brought the kid to me. Bad timing, I was in a pretty big fight, then I look down and Grogu’s just there in the middle of it all. All he wanted was a hug.”

“I think that might be the cutest thing I’ve ever heard.”

He lifts his hand a little, catches yours again and threads your fingers together.

“So it’s been you and him since then?”

Smoothing his gloved thumb over your knuckles, he nods. “I just want to give him the life he deserves. I don’t want to run anymore.”

You nod, understanding that more than anyone.

Quiet settles for a minute, and you look back over to Grogu, who’s staring up at his show with great interest, his breakfast plate now empty. There are crumbs on the floor around him and all down the front of his little robe.

Mando’s eyes stay on you. You can see him staring in your peripheral, but mostly, you can feel his gaze. Even through the helmet, it’s hot, intoxicating.

“Thank you,” he says, surprising you.

You look at him with a curious frown. “For what?”

He shuffles his chair closer, squeezes your hand. “Despite my Creed’s emphasis on companionship and loyalty, I’ve never really opened up to anyone before.”

If your shoulder wasn’t hurting, you’d lift your other hand up to stroke it down the cheek of his helmet. Your heart blooms with warmth, lurches with yearning.

“It’s always been safer to stay…hidden, I guess,” he says, and you understand that—kriff, do you understand that—so you nod, squeeze his hand, wanting more than anything to just touch him and tell him how much this moment of vulnerability means to you. “So, thank you.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“You make me feel safe. Seen,” slowly, he lets go of your hand, instead tracing the tips of his fingers up your bare arm, all the way to the crook of your elbow. You barely hold back a shiver at his touch. “Even through the armour, I feel seen when you look at me.”

You swallow down a heavy lump of emotion, staring at him with wide eyes that sting like they want to release tears. You don’t let them, instead just nodding softly, wishing he’d tell you to close your eyes, take his helmet off, and kiss you. “You make me feel seen, too. And that used to terrify me.”

He cradles the underside of your elbow, his thumb brushing over your bicep. “It doesn’t anymore?”

“Oh, no, it does. But…less so, with you.”

He nods like he understands. He probably does. Then he lifts his hand again, instead bringing it to your face, gently pressing against your lip with the pad of his thumb. You purse your lips, kiss his glove. You imagine he’s smiling under there. The feeling of his smile beneath your hands is still there if you think of it hard enough.

“Mesh’la,” he breathes, so quietly it’s like he’s saying it to himself; or like he didn’t mean to say it aloud at all.

You tense under the compliment, wishing you wouldn’t. Wishing you could just take it, could believe him, could think anything other than If you saw the rest of me, you wouldn’t think so. “Why do you call me that?”

“Because you are,” he says, then as if he thinks you’ve forgotten what it means, “beautiful.”

“You’ve not seen all of me.”

He leans in closer. “I won’t change my mind.”

Nervous, you swallow. Phantom pain twinges over your scars. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

“Cyar’ika…” his voice is concerned, like maybe he’s frowning, but he’s cut off from saying anything else when the HoloNet show suddenly shuts off and the kid starts walking over to you again. As you both turn to look at him, you smile, grateful for the distraction.

“Hey, kiddo,” you say, discreetly wiping at your watery eyes before reaching down to pick him up. Mando stays quiet, watching you. “What’s up? How’d you sleep in that fancy bed?”

“Do you draw attention like this everywhere you go?”

“Always.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I like to look at you, too, but I don’t think it’s for the same reasons as them.”

He tilts his head towards you, and you hear the smirk in his voice. “And what are your reasons?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“I would.”

“Not out here on the street, Mando. I have some decency.”

He chuckles softly. You turn to glance at him as if you’d be able to see his smile in the bright sunlight shining down on him. Instead, all you see is the light glinting from his armour. It’s beautiful. He’s beautiful.

As much as you’ve been enjoying your time here, you must admit that it’s a relief to see the ship come into view at the docks. The streets are so busy, people are constantly pressed up against each other, and you’re looking forward to being out in open space again, just the three of you, not a chance of someone picking your pockets or brushing too close against you in an alleyway.

It should maybe be concerning, how quickly this ship has started to feel like home. As soon as you step inside, something inside you settles, like you’d been missing it the whole time. Or maybe it’s the sight of Mando, taking his rifle off his back and putting it in its rack, the kid rushing to the bed chamber to climb up into his hammock, like he’s glad to have it back. Mando brushing his hand over the small of your back as he passes you and locks the door, then the sight of his cape swinging a little as he heads over to the ladder.

“I need to use the 'fresher. Where to next?” You ask.

“Wherever you want to go.”

You’re about to tell him that the Galaxy is your oyster, that you’ll be happy going anywhere, so long as the three of you are together. But as you reach the 'fresher door, fully intent on following him up into the cockpit once you're done, you feel something in the pocket of your jacket. Frowning, you reach in there, finding a thick piece of folded paper, ripped at the edges, with writing on it in ink that’s bleeding on the edges.

I KNOW WHO YOU ARE. CORRELIA STREET DINER BACK ALLEY 24 HOURS OR I TAKE THE CHILD FOR THE BOUNTY, AND THE MANDALORIAN FOR THE FUN TELL NO ONE. COME ALONE. I'M TAKING YOU HOME. - A FAMILY FRIEND

Your heart drops into your stomach.

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit.

You knew that if someone was going to make you anywhere, it was going to be on Coruscant. You knew that it was a risk, coming out of your safe place. You knew that you were always going to be in some kind of danger, knew that they’d always be looking for you, that “family friends” would take you back to them to gain favour—

You also knew that someone could pick your fucking pocket in those streets without you noticing—you just never thought that they’d put something in there instead of taking something out.

Despite the risks, when you left your safety, the quiet life you’d built for yourself where no one would ever find you, you didn’t anticipate anyone becoming collateral. You didn’t ever think that you’d have someone you cared about, two people you cared about, who someone could use, hold over you as leverage.

Your mind races. Anxiety stabs your stomach, twisting like a knife, nausea rolling over your body.

Someone saw you. Someone knows who you’re with, knows what ship you’re in. They know about the kid. They’re going to make you choose between your life, or theirs.

You can’t breathe.

The kid makes a concerned noise behind you. He’s probably sensed that something’s wrong. Turning to look at him, you find him gazing up at you with a tilted head, asking you if you’re alright, asking what’s wrong.

Your eyes, filled to the brim with tears, stare at him in disbelief.

You can’t let anything happen to him.

You can’t hide from him. You can’t hide from Mando. They’re going to know—they’re going to—you’re going to—

Unable to do anything now that you’re in the sky again, flying away from Coruscant’s atmosphere, you rush into the refresher on shaking legs as tears spill over your cheeks. You shut and lock the door before the kid can follow you, only just spotting his concerned little face come into view before the door slides shut.

Shit.

You can’t breathe.

Every laboured, too-deep breath stings.

Shit, shit, shit.

Your first instinct is to tell Mando. He’ll know what to do. He’ll keep you safe. He’s been on the run from the Empire, for kriff’s sake; he knows how to outrun someone.

But then you realise: if you run, after twenty four hours, this person will tell your family where you are. Who you’re with. How to find you. You’ll never be able to hide from them again and, most importantly, neither will Mando.

There’s no doubt in your mind that he can handle it, that he can shake off any tail he might pick up, that he can fight off your family if they ever do come for you. They’re not an army, after all, and even though you’ve never doubted that they’d hire one to get to you if they knew where you were, you also know that Mando has fought worse.

But he’s only just stopped running. He’s finally, finally managed to find the kid at least some semblance of peace. Yes, there are still stragglers after him. And, yes, the Galaxy is a dangerous place, especially for a little Jedi kid and a Mandalorian.

But they’re free. They have a life to build.

A life that crashed into yours, and yet you still managed to be the one who invaded it.

You can’t let them go back to that.

I just want to give him a life he deserves, Mando’s words echo in your head. From just this morning. Just this morning, before it all went to shit, when you felt peace in your chest and hope for the future.

Now, that’s all gone.

All that’s left is dread. Cold, all-consuming dread, seeping into your very core, running thick and hopeless through your veins.

You hear the little claws of Grogu’s hand tapping against the door.

Dank fucking farrik.

You can’t drag them back into a life of running. Of fighting. You’re just one person. You’re not worth all that.

You never thought you’d find a price that you weren’t willing to pay for your freedom.

Turns out, you have.

Mando agrees to go to Correlia as soon as you suggest it. “That’s not far,” he says approvingly, setting the coordinates. “Anything in particular you wanted to see?”

You swallow down your nerves, clamping your shaking hands together on your lap. “Just heard a lot about it, is all. I think it’s one of those planets you have to see, if you’re travelling.” The only thing making you such a good liar and keeping your voice from trembling is the kid sitting in Mando’s lap, gazing out at the stars in wonder.

“I think you’ll like it.”

“Is it as busy as Coruscant?”

“In a different way, but yes.”

You nod, unable to find any other words. You just stare at the back of his head, feeling your chest tight and heavy. This is the last time you’re going to see this. Mando sitting in front of you, setting coordinates, leisurely flicking switches as the kid watches in earnest. It’s become something that you take for granted. Something so simple, so mundane. And yet, sitting here watching it for the final time before you’re dragged back to the hell of your past, it feels like the most important thing you’ve ever witnessed.

You don’t even notice that you’ve jumped to hyperspace.

After a while, Mando turns to you, swivelling his whole chair. “Are you alright?” He asks.

His concern hurts your chest. Your eyes snap to him, stinging so badly with tears that the pain itself almost makes you want to cry. “I’m fine. Just tired.”

“I thought you slept well,” he says.

“I did.”

“Was it because I was there, too? If you weren’t okay with that…”

“No,” you’re quick to say, because, kriff, this is bad enough, you can’t have him thinking that you’re not happy he slept beside you holding your hand—“No, it’s not that. I promise, I did sleep well. I’m just…still tired.”

He studies you for a moment. His helmet is tilted, concerned. Those gloved hands are splayed on the beskar over his thighs. Normally, your brain would flood with sinful thoughts, imagining yourself running your hands over him, sitting in his lap, feeling his heat between your legs. But now, all you feel is sadness. “Are you sick?” He asks it like he’s sure the answer is no, but he knows that there’s something wrong, so he’s just guessing.

“I’m fine,” you tell him. “I’m just going to go to the ’fresher. Be right back.” You brush your hand over his shoulder before you leave the cockpit, and feel his eyes on you until you’re out of sight.

You do go to the fresher, but only to splash your face with water. It helps. Calms the flush in your cheeks, washes away the tears that haven’t quite started to fall but still sting on your eyelids.

For a while, you just hover over the sink, hunched over it with your hands on either side of it. You stare at the faucet, watching it drip. This is your home. This has become your home, more than the place you grew up ever could be, more than your hut was, despite your best efforts.

But it can’t be that anymore.

Your heart is breaking. You can feel it in your chest, cracking away, the shards settling into your lungs, suffocating you.

But the very thing that’s making you so upset, the two people who have made you feel like a person, are also the reason you know you have to do this. You have to do this for them. Maybe one day, once you’re back in that hell and married to someone you don’t love, following some shitty religion that you never believed in, being punished for every tiny mistake—maybe you’ll escape again. Maybe you’ll get another chance. Maybe you’ll find Mando one day in the future, the kid will be all grown up, and you’ll get a chance to say you’re sorry.

Until then, this is how it has to be.

Everything has flipped on its head in such a short time.

You take a deep breath. Close your eyes, centre yourself.

Then, when you open the refresher door, you jump out of your skin when you see Mando standing there at the bottom of the ladder, facing you.

In his gloved hand, there’s a piece of paper.

The piece of paper.

He holds it out in the large space between you. “What is this?”

notes: I KNOW I KNOW i'm sorry for the cliffhanger, i had literally nowhere else to stop this chapter tho otherwise it would've been WORSE.

thank you for reading as always!

requests are open, more info here ❤️

taglist: @toobsessedsstuff @granillx @keepingitlokiii @shoe1412 @kiruoris @quentinor @yourunstablegf @moonknight-s-cumdump @senassn @samanthacookieone @local-fanfic-addict @your-slutty-gf @brilliantopposite187 @whenpugzfly @elsasshole @moony-toasts @julesjewelss36 @jbcalway @mxlsmith @indec1sive @lordhavemurthy @booktvmoviefangirl @brokenghostgirl1 @competitivedust @lostinsideourminds

#din djarin x reader #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin x you #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian imagine #din djarin imagine #star wars fanfiction #my post: fic #my fic #i only see daylight #gif cw

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whxtedreams · 3 months

Text

When they’re ill / injured

Summary: Small drabbles about how they let you help them when they're ill or injured.

Word Count: 1.3k

Tags: Injury, knife wounds, blood, fear, drug use, fluff.

Characters: Joel Miller, Din Djarin, Prince Oberyn, Javier Peña, Agent Whiskey, Frankie Morales

a.n. yeah, so I'm a health worker (admin) and literally thought of this at work while going over forms, wrote dot points on sticky notes and smashed this out in my lunch break. Enjoy!

Joel Miller

Main cause for concern: Injury: lower back

Joel hides his pain from you for all of three hours. When you finally realise, he doesn't actually know you’re in the room. He gets up from a chair and grunts in pain, his hand shooting to his back as he supports himself on the dining table with his other hand. He jolts when he hears your voice when you ask if he’s okay, only making him hiss in pain when he moves. He tells you he’s fine, of course he does. You know he’s not. After multiple attempts to convince him to go to the clinic in the Q.Z., he finally gives in with a grunt. He huffs, mutters and grumbles the whole time he’s there, making sure he lets everyone know he’s fine. He’s not though: his back is fucked.

Summary: the poor guy just lifted something.

Din Djarin

Main cause for concern: Injury: Knife wound; left arm

Din shut himself in the refresher the moment he got back to the ship. Normally you would let him do whatever he needed to do after hunting a bounty, but the small blood trail he left in his wake worried you. You knock on the door but hear nothing but the clatter of Beskar falling to the floor. You knock again and ask if he needs any help but he just tells you to leave him. You don’t, though; you can’t. You sit with your back to the refresher door and wait. Wait, just in case he needs you.

When the door finally does open, you look up from where you sit on the floor and he kneels in only his flight suit and helmet. He softly grabs your chin to look at his shielded face. He assures you he’s okay, but you can’t be sure. You lift the sleeve of his shirt to see the wound for yourself, your eyes softening with worry. A painfully long, jagged cut from his wrist to elbow scars his skin, and you hear the hiss from under his modulator as you reach up to touch it. You suggest that maybe this time he goes to a medical clinic. His fingers rest on your cheek as he sighs, telling you that you know why he can’t. He lets you patch him up after that after he wipes a tear from your cheek.

Summary: just another scar for you to trace later.

Prince Oberyn

Main cause for concern: Illness: flu

He’s been in isolation in his chambers for four days now. You’ve stopped by his door each morning and night to check on him, only to be turned away by his guards. You were worried. But finally, on the fourth night when you arrive at his door, he calls for you. The guards let you in and your heart aches as you see him struggling to breathe and blankets sprawled over his body. He missed you, he tells you before he coughs. He motions for you to stop as you walk towards his bed but you do not care if he gets you sick, you just want him to feel better. You gather washcloths and wet them with cold water and lay them on his face, a soft sigh of relief settling in his chest. My sweet little dove, he calls you as his wrist weakly curves around yours as you sit beside his naked, shivering, sweating body. You end up in bed with him, running nails up and down his back as he grips onto your body heat, slowly lulling him to sleep. You pray to the gods that he’ll be better soon. You miss your Prince.

Summary: it’s literally just a basic ass flu, he’s fine. But everyone deserves to be cared for.

Javier Peña

Main cause for concern: Injury: gunshot wound, shoulder.

He desperately tried to hide it from you, even as he began to dial your number multiple times throughout the night, only to throw the phone across the room. He didn’t want you to worry, didn’t want to see you panic. He spends the night in hospital before Steve eventually tells you the next morning assuming you already knew. You didn’t. You rush to the hospital, thinking the worst. You find his room and when you arrive your chest is heaving as your eyes frantically search him for injury. I’m okay baby, really, he whispers as you fall into a hug. And he does feel okay as he takes in the smell of your hair, the comfort you bring him as you hug him. You’re angry at him, furious at him for keeping you in the dark. But that feeling is only temporary, because he’s okay. He’s breathing. He’s alive.

Summary: Hugs are healing.

Agent Whiskey

Main cause of concern: Injury: Lasso burn

He’s a fucking idiot and you make sure you tell him that after he tried to show off a new move. He was trying to impress you, and god, it would have if he didn’t whip himself and burn a massive line down his leg. He had shouted out in pain but tried to down play it as he came limping back over to you like a wounded puppy. Of course he was still flirting with you as you tried to assess the wound, asking you to kiss it better. You roll your eyes and kiss his leg beside his wound and the idiot tells you he’s healed, that your mouth is all he needs. It is in fact not any better when you drag him to the Kingsman med bay. As he lays on his stomach with your hand in his and the nurses have patched him up, he asks you to kiss him better again. You do.

Summary: He’s an idiot. But he’s your idiot.

Frankie Morales

Main cause for concern: OD poisoning

You get the call at eleven at night while you’re soaking in a bath. When you answer Fankie is freaking out, blabbering about brownies. You tell him to slow down, and he takes it literally. His words are dragged as he mentions the brownies again, how he feels poisoned. You sigh as you pull yourself from the bath, you let him know you’ll be over as soon as you can.

When you do arrive at his house, he's laying on the living room floor. You stand above him, arms crossed over your chest as you raise an eyebrow. His hands are in the air as his eyes are fascinated by his fingers moving. He tells you he ate half a tray of “special” brownies and he honestly thought they were weak because they didn't do anything but then it just hit him like a truck and he can now both feel every bone in his body and also nothing. He laughs then, and then doesn’t stop. Somethin’ wrong with those brownies, he laughs and you smile, trying not to laugh. You look over at the tray as he goes to take another and you quickly rush to pick up the tray and he actually pouts at you as his fingers wiggle for the tray. Ah-no way, you scoff as you toss them in the bin. You end up pulling him off the floor and he pukes on the floor beside you, just missing you. Taking you to the ER, you sigh as you take hold of his hand and tug for him to follow you.

When you do get to the ER, he sits beside you in the waiting room and his head rests on your shoulder and his arm wrapped around yours as you wait. A soft content smile is plastered on his face and you carefully run your fingers through his hair, pulling soft sighs from him. Feel funny, he sighs and you hum. Love you so much, he says as he nestles himself even further against your body. When he’s finally taken in to be put on a drip, he tugs you along with him, muttering he needs you.

Summary: Eating half a tray of pot brownies was probably not a good idea. Actually –eating half a tray of normal brownies probably isn’t a good idea either tbh.

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hyperactively-me · 10 months

Text

i’m here

Din stills for a moment pulling you into him as much as can, as if he is trying to consume you whole. As your head rests on his shoulder, you can barely hear his heart sprinting out of his chest.

just wanted to ask you guys to please read this

(asks are open)

happy reading

warnings: none

You wake up with a start, thrown out of your unconscious state of delirium and horror, like a bucket of ice being dumped over your unsuspecting head. Your heart threatens to pound right out of your chest, breathing labored, air capacity restricted. The cool silk of the sheets below you twist in your grip, and you let the sensation slightly ground you from your mental high. Your eyes are scrunched shut, back bent over as a wave of exhaustion swept over as the adrenaline trickles out of your system.

A warm touch gently rubs your forearm, causing another wave of panic to surge through your body. A sharp inhale escapes your lips and you yank your stiff arm away quickly before realizing it was Din.

He whispers your name, voice brimming with worry and urgency.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” he grunts out before sitting upright, tugging at your forearm again. This time you don’t pull away.

“Maker, what’s got you so shaken up?” he says more clearly, forcefully. You can tell he’s concerned by the way he’s running his thumb over your arm, trying to ground you, comfort you, do anything he can to ensure you’re okay.

Hot tears begin to form, distorting your vision, making the dim moonlight in the bedroom swirl like milky water. A sharp inhale escapes his lips as he kneads his hand into your arm, trying anything to get you to look at him. The weight of the bed shifts as you let Din gently pull you into him. You nestle your face, teary eyed, into the crook of his neck, letting one arm wrap around your back as the other cradles your head.

You sit quietly for a few moments, small sniffles piercing the still silence of the dark room. You grip his broad shoulders like it’s your life support. His hand rubs gentle circles on your back, the hand on the back of your head pulling you in closer. His hand runs through your hair, gently pulling at knots created from restless sleep. You feel him turn into the side of your face before pulling away to look at you.

His eyes search your face, hesitating in the depths of your own watery eyes. He wipes a stray tear off your cheekbone with his thumb, the pad of his thumb feeling warm and calloused on your face. His strong hands shift to grip your shoulders, attempting to fully ground you from the surge of emotions triggered by the nightmare. You wipe your nose with the back of your hand as a shaky breath escapes your lips.

This time you meet his eyes, filled with concern and hesitation. Your heart flutters as you take in his appearance.

“I’m sorry” you breathe out, voice wavering under the intensity of the moment.

“Stop” he says solemnly, causing you to freeze as you shift your gaze up to his face. You notice his hair is tousled from twisting and turning in his sleep, his cheeks slightly flushed, and you suddenly feel small under his gaze.

You weren’t used to this kind of attention. The kind of attention from someone you like that makes you smile stupidly, giddy with the thought that someone was waiting for you at home. You definitely were not used to being treated with gentle care. Enduring hardship after hardship after being forcefully taken away from the only family you knew created the tough and independent exterior you now wore religiously. Years of mistreatment and fending for yourself with no one to rely on left the shell of the person you used to be. And here you were now, in the presence of someone who cared about you, was gentle with only you, loved you.

“It’s not your fault. None of it is. You did what you had to do to survive” he says reassuringly, forcefully trying to break down your defenses from the intensity of the moment.

Din had dealt with nightmares before, ones that created mental scars and visions that were difficult to ignore, difficult to forget. He knew what it was like to fear sleep.

Your bottom lip quivers once more before you slump forward into him again. He wraps his arms around your torso and buried his face into the crook of your neck. He whispers soft, soothing words of reassurance.

“I- I know. I just can’t stop seeing them. I-” you shudder at the thought of seeing the men who were the root of so much pain and suffering. “It hurts, it all hurts, it hurts to think about and it hurts to relive it in my dreams” you huff out, frustrated yet powerless over the night visions that plagued your mind.

You pull away once more and take a long, deep inhale, attempting to steady your breath.

“That’s it, just breathe” he rasps.

Again he studied your face, eyebrows furrowed, taking in your features, ensuring you would be okay.

“You know I wouldn’t let them lay a finger on you right? So help me Maker—” he says, eyes narrowing slightly. The thought of you getting hurt again left a burning feeling in his chest as he tightened his hold on you ever so slightly.

He stops suddenly, shifting his eyes back to yours, attempting to read your expression.

“I know” you say, barely a whisper in the dark of the night. A wave of exhaustion sweeps over you, beckoning you to curl up in a ball and sleep.

Wordlessly, Din gently pulls you down with him, letting you rest your head next to his shoulder, faces nearly touching one another. You feel his hot breath tickle your nose as he lets out a pent-up exhale. You wrap your arms around him as he pulls you in closer.

You wonder how he was able to interpret the situation with a minimal amount of verbal communication between the two of you. You thank all the stars in the sky for someone like Din, someone like the man who swore to protect you and love you, to be the person you could spend the rest of your life with. He is someone who would relentlessly support you through your toughest battles, your lowest moments, all without complaint.

And with that knowledge, your eyes become heavy as you feel warm, moist lips press gently against your forehead.

Your eyes slide shut as you mumble out “I love you.”

Din stills for a moment pulling you into him as much as can, as if he is trying to consume you whole. As your head rests on his shoulder, you can barely hear his heart sprinting out of his chest.

“I love you too” he mutters, slow and controlled.

And with that, you succumb to slumber with a small smile present on your face.

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againstacecilia · 4 months

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No Words Needed

Pairing: Din Djarin x gn!Reader

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, blood, near-death experience leading to emotional confession, mention of alcohol but in a simile so no drinking.

A/N: Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to @sweetercalypso! I had so much fun writing this and I hope you like it. It isn't really holiday themed, but you said "partners to lovers" and my brain ran with it because it's such a good trope. 🙈

“Din, look out!” Your voice bounces through the cockpit, hands flying over the controls of the borrowed U-wing as the Mandalorian next to you struggles to control the ship. Unyielding winds buffet every side and puffs of labored breath escape Din’s helmet.

“I’m-” he coughs, wet and sticky- “I’m trying.” Arms shaking, he finally pulls the yoke up to level the U-wing over the barren landscape of your unlikely sanctuary.

It wasn’t your first choice to land on Nentan; nothing but rocky spires and unchecked winds greet you through the viewport. It was becoming more and more clear, however, that making it all the way to Station 88 wasn’t going to be possible if whatever injury Din had sustained fleeing Baltizaar wasn’t taken care of. Usually the best pilot you knew, Din’s flying had diminished significantly since leaving your pursuers behind on the small planet.

Taking charge of the flight controls, you keep one eye on Din as you lower the ship to the planet’s dense surface. His hands never loosen their grip on the yoke, but the tension radiating off him shakes his entire body. Sweat darkens the cowl covering the skin of his neck.

The moment the ship is settled and engines are cut, you yank him from his chair and support him down the few steps from the cockpit to the crew hold. No other people came on this run, they would’ve just slowed you down, but the reinforced bench in the middle of the room was kept in place. The full weight of man and beskar collapse on the padded surface with a groan.

You aren’t sure what happened. The blur of running full out to the ship, blaster bolts whizzing past your head, heart pumping adrenaline through your limbs, it all drowned out everything not happening immediately within your line of sight. Grabbing the first aid kit, you fall to your knees next to Din’s prone form.

“Tell me what happened,” you demand, rolling the Mandalorian onto his back. “Where are you hurt?”

Silence is the only answer you receive.

“Din?” Your hands still on the latch to the first aid kit. With the lights on in the hold, you have a better look at what you were observing in the cockpit. His body still shakes, and more blotches of dark fabric show just how much he’s sweating under all the armor. Your eyes light on his cowl, now noticing just how dark the fabric is there compared to the rest of his body…

Reaching your hand up to move the garment away, you notice the shock of red painted along the pads of your fingers. What you mistook for sweat is actually blood, and a flare of panic courses through you.

“No,” you whisper, pulling the cowl away fully and exposing a frightening slice stretching around Din’s throat. Without pausing, you fumble with the bindings of his armor, needing access to more than the sliver of skin you can see. You know about his Creed, you know you can’t remove his helmet, but he never said anything about the rest of his armor.

While your fingers desperately try to work the clips and buckles securing his chest plate, tears burn the corners of your eyes. “Come on, Din, not like this. I need you to say something. I need you to wake up and tell me what to do…”

Finally slipping the layer of armor off his chest, you tear the fabric of the cowl to get it away from his neck. A base layer long-sleeve sticks to Din’s body, sweat and blood indistinguishable as they mingle and drench the fabric. You rip the collar down the middle, not caring about what you were ruining as the full wound is exposed. The tears finally fall free as you survey the damage.

A nasty gash haunts his bronze neck. Someone must have gotten a lucky swing with a vibro-blade as the two of you ran from the group protecting your bounty. How Din had even managed to get to the ship, let alone gotten you into sub-light without you even knowing he was wounded, completely mystifies you. The blood loss alone…

Setting your hands moving again, you rifle through the first aid kit to find the tools you need. Soaking a sterile pad in the disinfectant, you steady your hands to get cleaning when orange-tipped fingers wrap around your wrist.

“Din!” You exclaim, eyes searching the dirty visor for any sign of lucidity.

His words barely register through the modulator in his helmet. You watch his throat work through a painful swallow before he says, “Where are we?”

“Nentan,” you answer. “Don’t speak, I need to take care of this cut. You’ve bled too much, you need to just focus on staying awake.”

“Cyare,” he says, the word unfamiliar to your ears, “it’s dangerous that we stopped. They’ll be looking for us.”

You shake your head. “They didn’t follow us off-world. We’ve been alone since we broke atmosphere. Now hush.”

As you try to remove your hand from his grip, he squeezes tighter. “I can’t let them hurt you, we need to-” that sickly cough wracks his body again, blood again oozing from the wound- “we need to go. Now.”

While he talks, his chest begins to heave. His breathing becomes shallow and fast and panic seems to grip at him as surely as he holds onto you. He even goes as far as to try to sit up with a cry of pain. Placing your free hand on his chest, you gently push him down and look into where you assume his eyes to be, saying as confidently as you can, “We are safe. We were not followed, and I need to take care of this wound so please let me do that. Let me take care of you.”

His fingers cling to you for another heartbeat before letting go and dropping to the bench. You work in silence, counting every one of his too-shallow breaths as you clean the cut along his throat. Once you’re satisfied with your handiwork, you open a bacta patch and apply it to his fevered skin.

Hating to leave his side, you begin to clean up the mess of the hold. Garbage gets bagged and the first aid kit gets put away, security measures are triple checked, and all seems to settle for a moment.

After the longest half hour of your life, Din begins to stir.

“Hey, be careful,” you whisper, dropping again to his side. “You shouldn’t move too much yet.”

He nods, his chest rising and falling with a cautious full breath. Relief floods your veins at the sight. At least the bacta was working. You lean your back against the bench and let your muscles relax, breathing deeply to ground yourself. He’s safe, you think to yourself. We’re going to be fine.

In the stillness of the hold, your mind starts to wander and his words creep back into your memory. “Din, can I ask you something?”

His helmet turns to look in your direction.

“What does cyare mean?”

The silence continues for another handful of heartbeats. You begin to wonder if he’s fallen asleep, but then he’s slowly sitting up, brushing off your attempts to help him. Gently, so gently, he takes your hands and pulls you onto the bench beside him.

Angling his body to face you, your hands still wrapped in his, Din begins to speak. “Cyare is a term of endearment in Mando’a, the language of my people. It means…” He pauses, shoulders rising and falling with a slow, intentional breath. “It means beloved.”

Confusion and something akin to hope flares in your chest. “Din…”

“As we were running for the ship, one of the guys chasing us was catching up to you. He slipped by me while I was distracted fighting off one of the others. I managed to get the guy off me after he got my neck, but I didn’t care about the wounds. All I cared about was keeping this guy away from you. So I ran. I ran as hard as I could so I could catch up to that bastard. I didn’t even think to use my blaster because my instinct was to use my own two hands to protect you.

“In the end, I slid my knife between his ribs and left him lying on the ground, following you as you leapt into the ship.” The cold fury in his voice as he describes what he did settles into your bones. You had no idea all this had happened right behind you not more than a couple of hours ago.

“What does this have to do with-”

“I’m telling you this,” he says, voice instantly warmer and softer, “because you have to know that I care for you. When he threatened you, I realized that everything I’ve been lying to myself about not feeling… It was all real. And you needed to know.

“I should have told you sooner,” Din’s voice catches and he clears his throat, “but I was scared. Scared that telling you how I feel about you would change whatever it is we have. But after today…” His head drops with a sigh.

“Din,” you angle your head to try and meet his gaze through the inky blackness of his helmet, coaxing him to lift his head again, “we’ve been working together for months. Been stranded on planets and ripped away from people we love… Did you think I would run away from this? From you?”

He goes still as night as your words sink in, visor finally lifted to you again. You pause to consider all of the emotions barreling through you, to figure out how to explain that the thundering of your heart isn’t from fear or that the tears lining your eyes aren’t from pain; it’s all from joy. Joy filling you like honeyed wine and warming you down through your very soul.

While scanning his helmet, you remember a story he told you once. About a way Mandalorians show affection when other displays weren’t possible due to their Creed. As the memory sparks, you realize words aren’t needed to tell him how you feel.

Closing your eyes, you gently rest your forehead against the cold beskar of his helmet. Din’s fingers tighten around yours, the warmth of his hands seeping through the worn leather and settling into your skin. A shudder runs through his body.

“We’re in this together,” you whisper, opening your eyes and pulling away with a smile. The sun starts to peek through the windows of the ship, warm light bathing the hold and sparkling off the armored man in front of you.

He nods, pulling you into his arms. “Together.”

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mxtantrights · 7 months

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this is a snippet from the famous dc! au that started with The Greatest Hits [read here] you don't have to read it but a lot of things would make sense if you do

THE GREATEST HITS - the proposal

You've come home about an hour earlier than you usual do. That is why Jason panics. No other reason. Oh yeah, maybe it's because tonight he's planning on telling you out right that he wants to marry you and has a ring to offer you and everything.

But you're home early.

"Shit shit shit shit-" he says to himself. You're coming through the front door. And at the front door are the black and red balloons. If that didn't tip you off then maybe the candles would? Jason cringes.

"Jay?" you call out.

He thinks maybe he shouldn't answer. If you think he's not here, maybe you'll step out and call him to see where he's at and if he has anything to do with this. But you're way too smart for this. You'll know this was all him.

"Yeah?" he responds.

"Are we having a party tonight or something?" you ask.

Jason cringes even more. If you were asking that, you obviously didn't see the candlelight dinner set up in the dinning room. Jason thinks to himself, he can save this.

He runs at the speed of light. He darts out of your shared room and around the corner, stubbing his toe. He lets out a string of curse words as he continues running. When he sees you at the threshold of the living room.

The living room where polaroids of you and him are hung up from the ceiling. Right. Those. He forgot about those. You are looking up at the pictures in wonder. Then you look at him.

"Jay..." you trail off.

"You weren't supposed to be home until nine, you're early." he grumbles.

You smile at first and then a laugh starts making it's way out of your chest. The sound is comforting for Jason, he knows then and there that none of this is scaring you at all. He feels his heart start to beat normally again.

You slowly make your way over to him by the hallway. As you do, you wrap your arms around his waist.

"What'd I do to deserve all this?" you ask.

"You existed, you signed that first movie contract, and you put up with me-" Jason starts.

For him it's true. Surely you would have dropped him if you two weren't staring opposite in a movie together. Or if the movie tanked. Either way, he knows that every day you choose to be here with him and he's thankful you make that decision.

"I love you, I'm not putting up with you Jason." you say.

He looks at you then. In your eyes. He can see how your pupils dilate just the tiniest bit. He remembers the first time he saw it happen on set. He had to ask for a break because he couldn't believe he was in the presence of a being capable of holding his attention that way.

"I just-this was supposed to be a big surprise and I was gonna get you at the door and walk you around before I gave you the ring, which now that I think about it you don't wear jewelry that much anyways so if you don't like it I can return it or pass it to someone else." Jason rambles.

Your eyes go wide at his words.

"You got me a ring?" you ask.

Jason nods his head. He keeps nodding and nodding until he's pulling out the box from his jacket pocket and bending on one knee. Your eyes begin to water and he wants nothing more than to wipe them but he can't.

"I'm finally asking, sweetheart." he says.

Then he props the box open. A black metallic ring in the box with the smallest jewels set in the metal.

"Jason! It's always yes! Yes! A million times yes!" you shout.

You hold out your hand, and Jason takes the ring out of the box and slides it onto your finger. You don't even look at the ring after that. Your arms go around his neck and you fall right into him. The both of you go softly tumbling to the floor, Jason cushioning the fall for you.

"I can't believe you said yes." he says, and laughs too.

"I can't believe that you can't believe I would say yes." you laugh too.

Jason Todd didn't think his life could get better. Yes he grew up the son of a movie star and was able to figure out if the life was for him or not, and he got to do things other people only dreamed of. But walking onto set the first day of your movie was the best day of his life and he didn't even know it then. He knows it now.

#dc x reader #dc x you #dc imagine #dc fic #famous dc!au #Jason todd x reader #Jason todd x you #Jason todd imagine #Jason todd fic #dc #Jason todd

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thefrogdalorian · 5 months

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Dincember Day 9: Boots

Word Count: 2009 Rating: General Summary: Raising a Force-sensitive child is not an easy task, especially one as mischievous as Grogu. When the little guy decides to play a game of hide and seek without telling you and Din first, you find him in a place that you would never have expected. Content Warnings: Panic of temporarily losing a child is explored. Author's Note: I just love the mental image of Din being a Stressed Out Dad. I know Grogu is driving him crazy in that cabin!

Link to read on AO3 | My Dincember Masterlist

Having a Force-sensitive child toddling around, especially one so powerful as Grogu, frequently made for some amusing and unconventional parenting situations. How could one discipline a child who could run rings around his caregivers with his mind? To most people. Grogu probably appeared to be helpless, but you and Din knew all too well that was not the case. The little green child had been known to steal extra portions off yours and Din’s plates at mealtimes to test your patience, apparently just because he felt like it, despite Din always reminding him to mind his manners and be respectful of others. Locking away sweet treats and cookies did not work either, as it would for other children: Grogu was able to pick any lock or bypass any door.

For the most part, you and Din let him be. He had an adorable disposition and you were happy to spoil Grogu and indulge his cheekiness. Despite how innocent he looked, you both knew he had seen far more horror in his lifetime than one of his size should have done. You could tell that not being able to communicate with Grogu in a traditional sense, with words, was something that Din struggled with. You were always there to reassure Din that he was the best possible father Grogu could have, whenever his insecurities reared their ugly head. Even though the two had never had a conversation, they had their own way of communicating and understanding each other. Din and Grogu's bond was very special and it was a true honour that you were able to observe how deeply their love ran for each other.

With all of that in mind, you were not unduly concerned when you and Din had woken up from an impromptu nap that the two of you had taken to discover that Grogu was not where you had last seen him: playing with his toys on the rug beside the couch you had both drifted off on, cuddled up to each other. Din had only returned from his latest assignment with the New Republic in the early hours of the morning, so a nap had proved an incredibly tempting prospect. Plus, you found that you always slept better when you had your favourite Mandalorian to cuddle.

It was your other favourite Mandalorian, though, who was the current cause of your anguish. You and Din knew that Grogu could not have gotten far because he only had little legs, after all. Plus, R5 was stationed at the perimeter of the cabin, ready to alert Din of any intruders, thanks to a connection to his vambrace. You tried not to panic as you untangled yourself from Din and climbed off the couch, ready to find out where Grogu had gotten to. But your heart was already beginning to race when you could not catch sight of him anywhere. Plus, there was the fact that you felt guilty that you had suggested you and Din lie down to begin with.

The most likely outcome was that Grogu had toddled down the hallway to his room and snuggled up in his crib, for a nap all of his own. But as Din searched the kitchen and you walked the short distance down the hallway to Grogu’s room, you felt the bile rising in your throat as you discovered that he was nowhere to be seen.

“Did you find him?” Din called from the kitchen, you noted how even Din’s voice sounded and your heart ached as you realised that this was not going to have the quick solution that you wanted so desperately to be able to give him.

“No!” You replied, bracing yourself to project calmness as you heard Din’s footsteps thundering down the hallway towards the room.

“Dank farrik!” Din muttered harshly, lifting up a few blankets and clothes that were littered on the floor of Grogu’s room, just to check that the errant child was not hiding under one of them. But, alas, it was another fruitless search. Din let out a heavy sigh and you felt terrible when you saw the way his shoulders slumped dejectedly.

Before you could move to comfort Din, though, he promptly turned on his heel and walked the short distance across the hallway to the room you two shared and began searching there. You crept through the door timidly and watched as Din lifted the blankets on your cot to search underneath. You noticed how his movements were becoming increasingly frantic and the pang of guilt you felt threatened to overwhelm you. But you knew you had to remain composed and not panic, so you threw yourself into assisting with the search.

You yanked open the various cupboards that were fixed to the wall of the room that you shared with Din, but the only sight that greeted you was the familiar sights of your personal items and folded clothes. Every cupboard you opened without seeing the familiar sight of Grogu’s big green ears only compounded your terror, your legs felt as though they were fully shaking now, your blood running cold. Finally, you ran out of places to look. You turned around to face Din and felt your chest ache even more at the sight of him. His brows were knitted together, brown eyes pained with worry.

“Din, I’m so sorry… this is all my fault,” You mumbled, losing your battle to maintain your composure as your lower lip began to wobble and hot tears burnt harsh trails down your warm cheeks.

“Cyare, no,” Din said, his concern for you immediate. He strode across the room, closing the distance between the two of you and grabbed your arms gently above your elbows, giving you a comforting squeeze. “Grogu is the one who wandered off, not you. He’s probably hiding somewhere in the cabin, his idea of a game. It isn’t the first time he’s done this. We’re going to find him, okay?”

“Okay,” You nodded, determinedly. Din’s words had soothed the ache in your chest as you were reminded of the time that you found Grogu hiding in a shelving unit in the kitchen, having Force leapt into there while you and Din had been distracted dishing up a meal that you had spent hours preparing. By the time you had finally sat down to eat, you and Din had been so worn out from the stress of his disappearance, that Grogu had ended up eating your portions too, which you both suspected was his desired outcome.

“I’ll check all the boxes in the alcove, why don’t you check by the door and just outside the cabin, where we keep our shoes?” Din suggested. You could tell he was trying to stay optimistic but you frowned slightly, doubting that Grogu would be found in either of those places.

“Alright, I’ll check there,” You agreed, trying to make your voice sound as though it had the optimism that was not matched by your gut.

“We’ll find him,” Din said again, probably as much for his own benefit as yours.

As you strode towards the front door of the cabin, you thought gratefully once more about how lucky you were to have such a patient and understanding man in your life. Din could so easily have rushed to blame you, even though it wasn’t your fault. Instead, he did his best to reassure you and himself, channelling his energy into finding Grogu rather than finger-pointing and accusations. An attitude like that was certainly a massive help in such an emotionally fraught situation as this.

You checked by the door, lifting the pots and peeking inside them just in case, but to no avail. Your last hope was the little rack you and Din stored your shoes on, just outside the cabin. You dashed through the entryway, feeling the desperation rise. It was then that a noise stopped you in your tracks. You heard an instantly recognisable sound, a little giggle from the mischievous child who had caused you so much anguish.

“DIN! I FOUND HIM!” You bellowed, almost involuntarily, the sound instantly familiar.

The hint of green peeking out between the brown leather calmed your frayed nerves. The little womp rat had decided the perfect hiding place was in his father’s boots. If you weren't so frazzled by the events of the afternoon, you would have taken a few seconds to appreciate how adorable Grogu looked, nestled in his father's shoe. He was so tiny, a fact you often forgot until you were reminded of it, that he was able to fit inside one of Din’s boots. The brown leather had engulfed his little body entirely, it was a perfect hiding his place. But fortunately, his big green ears were not as easy to squash down and that was what had ultimately given his location away. You breathed a tremendous sigh of relief as you made your way over to where Grogu was, scooping the little boy out of the boot and tutting at him.

“Oh Grogu, please don’t do that again!” You said, voice slightly more hysterical than you intended. The child just stared back at you with wide brown eyes, apparently utterly bemused as to how much he had just worried you and Din. “You gave us such a fright!” You explained, hoping that he understood how terrified you had been.

Before you could speak to Grogu any further, though, Din caught up and promptly grabbed the child from your grasp. He hugged him close, pressing his forehead to Grogu’s bean-shaped head carefully. You knew a stern telling off, with plenty of finger-wagging, probably lay in Grogu’s future. But for now, Din was just allowing the relief to wash over him and feel comforted by holding his son close.

“Where was he?” Din finally turned to you and asked, swallowing thickly as his voice shuddered at the question.

“He was in your boot…” You said, trying to bite back the smile that threatened to creep across your lips and ruin the solemnity of the moment.

“My boot?” Din repeated, raising an eyebrow and booking at Grogu questioningly.

“Your boot,” You nodded. “I have no idea why he chose that particular

“Oh, kid,” Din said, his eyes shut as he chuckled. “I was going to lose it with you but I think being stuck in there, considering how much it must have smelled, was probably punishment enough,” Din let out a belly laugh, amused by his son’s antics.

“What are we going to do with you, Grogu?” You asked with a sigh as you placed your arm around Din’s waist and gently stroked Grogu’s cheek with your fingertip. You were just relieved that Din had taken this latest prank from his son so well.

"Seriously, I've hiked through muddy swamps in those things!" Din laughed, "I can't believe he would hide in there!"

You just smirked and shook your head at the two of them. You didn't know what you would do with your ridiculous boys, but you loved the pair of them so much. Your chest was filled with a different kind of ache now, a warm one, that you felt whenever you looked at them.

After you and Din had finally stopped giggling at the bemused kid, the three of you made your way back into the cabin and you set about preparing a meal for the three of you. You noticed, as a lump formed in your throat, how tightly Din was holding Grogu as the two of them sat at the counter and watched you potter around the kitchen with their big brown eyes. The time would come when you would have a more serious discussion with Grogu about his behaviour, but for tonight you were just content for the three of you to enjoy each other’s company. Especially considering the two of them had just gotten back from their latest assignment with the New Republic.

And you knew that the next time Grogu went missing, the first place you would check would be Din’s boots.

#dincember 2023 #din djarin #din djarin fluff #din djarin fic #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x reader #pedro pascal characters #my fics

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justrandomfanfictionskh · 1 year

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MDC Commissions: The Ghost King

(A series of one shots where Marinette has some extremely unusual clients. What could possible go wrong? ao3)

When Marinette moved to Gotham after retiring as Ladybug, she had expected craziness and chaos. And living with her biological father and his family, had made her believe that she had seen everything. For example, when she sat down to breakfast that morning she had been fully prepared to see Damian and Jason engaged in a rubber band war over the head of a slumped Tim, who couldn't decide if he was awake or asleep. She didn't flinch to see Dick balancing six trays of breakfast food, while Alfred followed him with barely concealed panic. She didn't even raise an eyebrow when Bruce came in with bag under his eyes, and switched Tim's coffee with his own empty mug. Barbara rolling in arguing about the probability of aliens owning all of the bowling alleys with Duke was a completely casual conversation. And Steph filming everything while she cackled was just the cherry on top.

She sat down next to Cass (the only other kid who was quiet), as Dick precariously started setting down the trays, and Bruce called for his other two sons to sit down. They were getting a little violent, and he wasn't having much luck. It was only once the last tray was on the table, that everyone finally settled down to eat, but Marinette had a feeling that it was only a matter of time before Jason and Damian decided to start chucking food at each other. At which point, Dick would yell "Food Fight" and they'd all be required by sibling law to join in. However, Marinette was not prepared for what happened literally two seconds after everyone was seated.

Alfred had just set down the coffee pot, causing Tim to jerk awake, when a bright flash of light in the middle of the table had everyone leaping into a fighting stance. They stood silent as they watched the glowing ball of light drift lazily around the table and settle in front of her. She squinted as it flashed blindingly before dropping something on her plate with an audible "Thunk." Marinette blinked the stars out of her eyes and stared down at a thick, glowing green scroll. It was very official looking with a glowing green wax seal and a golden center.

Marinette stared at it in wonder, and took a long sip of her coffee. It was far to early for this.

"Uh Mari," Dick was the first to speak as they all stared at the scroll. "What's that?"

She looked up at him blank faced, "It's a scroll Dick."

"I know that but---" Dick scoffed but Steph interrupted him with an eager,

"What's it say?"

"I wouldn't open it Mars," Duke said hesitantly, "That green light around it is...well it's some powerful other worldly shit, I'll say that much."

"Hmm," Marinette hummed.

"Still," Barbara said, "We can't ignore it. What if it's Guardian business?"

"Has the Order ever contacted you this way before?" Bruce asked eyeing the thing like it was a bomb full of joker gass.

"Nope," Marinette said still not moving.

"We should destroy it," Damian said simply reaching for the sword he had stashed under the table.

"Bad idea," Cass said softly, "Important."

"But it could be a trap," Tim said lifting his mug and staring in confusion when he found it empty. "I can run some tests on it maybe."

"I'm with Demon," Jason said gruffly, "That thing is giving me the heebie jeebies."

"Did you just say heebie jeebies?" Stephanie said in confusion.

"Whatever it is I don't think you should touch it Mari," Bruce said.

"Seriously Jay?" Steph said, "Heebie Jeebies?"

"I agree with father," Damian said tensely, "This thing reeks of magic. Perhaps we should call a magic user."

"I can call Zatanna," Dick offered.

"Heebie jeebies?"

"Let it go Steph, this is serious!"

"But...heebie jeebies?"

The dinning room descended into utter chaos literally not even five minutes into their meal. Marinette sighed and took another sip of her coffee as her family yelled around her. She had been up all night helping Barbara with Oracle stuff and finishing up some designs for her company. And listening to her siblings fight over how to deal with ominous glowing scrolls that appeared during their breakfast was not how she wanted to start the morning. She opened her purse and Tikki flew out to look at the scroll, as Jason knocked over his chair about to launch at Steph. Tikki nodded as Dick moved to stop Jason from attacking Steph. This time Cass had taken over recording the insanity.

Everyone froze as Marinette picked up the scroll. But nothing happened. She didn't suddenly combust or summon hellfire upon them all, so she took that as a good sign and broke the seal. Immediately, her entire family began to panic and some even lunged to snatch the scroll away from her. Marinette leaped back keeping the scroll as far away from them as she could. She sent them a confused, disapproving look as if to say, "Back off it's my magic scroll get your own!" But she read the words out loud just the same.

"To the right honorable, MDC, from the court of his Majesty the Ruler of the Infinite Realms, The Ghost King, Guardian of the Eternal Souls, Protector of the Living World, The Sleepless One, The Halfa, Keeper of the Abyss, etc. Greetings.

His majesty humbly requests your services in the designing of his coronation attire for his ascension to the throne of the Deathless King. Should you accept this most honorable, and glorious commission, simply preform the included spell before the end of five days. Preferably between 4 and 5 o'clock central. Money is no object unless you wish some other form of Eternal payment. In which case, terms will have to be agreed upon in person. You will also be invited, along with a guest of your choosing, to witness this most monumental event within the Infinite Realms.

Kindest Regards,

The King's Advisor, Physician, and Head Scientist, and Leader of the Far Frozen

Frostbite. "

Marinette looked up at her family who were staring at her in awe. None of them quiet new how to take this, so for a moment there was complete silence. In her head Marinette began counting down, "Three...two...one." And the entire dinning room erupted into chaos. Marinette just sighed as she returned her attention to the commission. "What even is my life?" she muttered.

Marinette summoned the Ghost King in the private studio at her fashion house. She reserved this studio for her VIP commissions like Jagged, Clara, Diana, and her family. At that moment it was just her, Jason, and the kwamis, which was already causing chaos as half of the little gods flew around in an attempt to help without actually helping. Jason was making no attempt to corral them like he had promised to do, and instead decided to just stand and scowl as Marinette prepared the summoning circle exactly as it was depicted on the scroll. Marinette had just wanted it to be her and the kwamis, but her family all resolutely refused. Apparently, summoning an unknown, mythical, entity of unquestionable power by herself was not something they were comfortable with. So they compromised and decided that Jason was best suited to over see the meeting. After all, one of the titles was "the Ghost King" and Jason was a zombie...technically.

Still Marinette wasn't sure how well he would do in a fight. If it came to that, then the kwamis would be her best shot at protecting them. She wasn't sure how Jason's guns would do against something called, "The Keeper of the Abyss." Still she was glad he was here, in a way. "Alright!" she said standing, "It's ready!"

"Hmph," Jason grunted, "I don't like this, Pixie."

"Oh come on," Marinette said with a smile as she tried to hide her own terror, "Don't tell me you're not a little bit curious."

Jason shook his head and muttered something about not wanting to die again, which Marinette elected to ignore. Instead she began the chant and called upon the Ghost King, the Ruler of the Infinite Realms, The Bringer of the Frost, Guardian of the Eternal Souls, Protector of the Living World, The Sleepless One, The Halfa, Keeper of the Abyss, etc. " Man this guy has a lot of titles," she thought. The runes began to glow as the light began to melt upward into a swirling portal of ink and stars. The edges of the portal were wrapped in a shifting green cloud that reminded Marinette of the Lazarus Pit. "That's...probably...not a good sign," she thought but it was too late. Because a white hand emerged from the blackness and Marinette felt the magic in the room surge with the sudden pressure of power. She gasped, and her breath came our in a cloud as the hand was followed by a foot. The kwami gathered around her ready to fight, and Jason's hand flew to his gun. They all held their breath as the Ruler of the Infinite Realms emerged, in all of his power and glory.

"All I'm saying, Jazz, is that I don't see the point! I mean it's not like I'm going to be dressing like this while I'm king!" A teenage boy cried as he stepped casually from the portal.

"It's not about you, Danny!" said the tall, red haired woman who followed him into the studio, "It's about your subjects. They need to see that you're taking this seriously, so they know to take you seriously. By presenting yourself as a king before them, they will be more likely to trust you as their king."

"She's right Danny," said a goth goth girl, "You're entering the world of high ghostly society. In those circles image is everything whether your alive or dead. Ha, you're gonna love it!"

The boy, Danny, groaned into his hands, and then turned to face Marinette and Jason who were staring in quiet shock and confusion. "Hi!" He said stepping forward holding out his hand to shake, "I'm Danny Phantom, future King of the Infinite Realms, nice to meet ya!"

Marinette blue screened for a moment as she took in her client. This...was not what she was expecting. She had been fully prepared to meet some sort of strange eldritch animal/human/void type hybrid. Instead she got a teenage, human boy who couldn't have been older than 16. The only thing unusual about was his snow white hair, and glowing green eyes. She could work with this. So, Marinette smiled and shook his hand, "Marinette Dupain-Cheng-Wayne, MDC, the pleasure is all mine. And this is my brother, Jason Todd, he's going to be assisting us today!"

Danny looked over at Jason and gaped, "Dude!" he exclaimed, "You core is messed up! What happened to you?!"

"Danny!" the red head, Jazz exclaimed, "Be nice! I'm sorry," she said addressing Jason, "My brother might be one of the most powerful beings in the multiverse, but he's still a teenager and often forgets his manners. I'm Jazz by the way!" She held out her hand, and Jason numbly shook it as his eyes expressed that he was still trying to mentally process what was happening.

"And I'm Sam," the goth girl said stepping forward as the portal closed behind her, "I'm a big fan of your work, Miss. MDC. Your eco friendly punk spring collection was truly inspired!"

"Thank you," Marinette said with a smile, "And I see you're wearing some of it! I have to say, the way you've dressed up the vest is amazing, I never would have thought to match it with that color skirt!"

Sam blushed as she straighten the faux dark green leather vest. Jason then took the opportunity to speak up saying, "I hate to interrupt but...what's the story here?"

"Oh," Danny said as they all moved toward the couches that surrounded the circular stage, where the finished products would be touched up and fitted. "Well you see our parents," he gestured between himself and his sister, "are scientists who for some reason decided to study ghosts."

"We thought they were crazy!" Jazz exclaimed with a desperate laugh.

"They are crazy," Sam said, "Just turns our they were also right."

"They built a portal to what they called the Ghost Zone," Danny explained, "It's kind of like the afterlife in between afterlives. A realm between realms...sort of...it's complicated. And that's not really the point, the point is, they thought it didn't work. Until, Sam, Tucker and I were goofing off in the lab and there was an...'accident.'"

"And you died?!" Marinette asked in concerned.

"Yes, no, sorta kinda," Danny said casually, "I half died. I'm half dead. I'm half ghost."

"The technical term is Halfa," Jazz explained.

"Danny is alive," Sam said, "But at the same time, he's dead."

"Schrodinger's kid," Jason muttered, and Danny beamed.

"Yeah, you see! This guy gets it!" He exclaimed. "So anyway, now that the portal was open someone had to make sure that the ghosts didn't overwhelm the land of the living, and vise versa. And since I am both living and dead, I was the only one who could do it."

Marinette twisted one of her earrings with a glance at Tikki, who was shuffling the other kwamis out of sight since there was clearly no danger, "I get that."

She and Danny exchanged an understanding look, before he continued, "Yeah, well, one of those ghosts turned out to be the actual Ghost King who had gone all tyrant, and tried to disrupt the balance between life and death thus destroying both realms. I might have beaten him in single combat thus accidently becoming the next Ghost King."

"How do you accidently become the Ghost King?" Jason said incredulously.

"By beating the former monarch in single combat, I thought we just established that?" Danny said.

"Any way," Jazz said purposefully, "Danny was still in high school at the time, so he couldn't exactly claim the throne. And besides there was a lot about inter-death politics that he had to learn. So we had to hold off on the coronation until he was ready."

"And now here you are!" Marinette said brightly.

"Here we are!" Danny said in return. "Got to say though, randomly becoming the guardian of one of the cornerstones of all existence before all before my 18th birthday, not how I expected my life to turn out. But like you said 'here we are!'"

Marinette glanced at the kwami again and said softly, "Yeah, I get that to."

Danny cocked his head at her, as his glowing green eyes met her piercing blue one. He nodded and said, "Alright then, let's get started shall we. I'm trusting you, Blue eyes!"

Jason scowled at the nickname, but Marinette chuckled and retrieved her tape measure, but stopped as she took in his outfit. It looked like a black and white, rubber hazmat suit that was custom made to fit him. It wasn't the worst thing she had ever seen, and the flaming D, she guessed was a nice touch, but it the girls were right. It didn't scream "King of the Infinite Realms." But it raised a pressing question for her.

"So how do your clothes work?"

"Uh...well...let's see," Danny said as he looked down at his outfit. "Well I suppose I should explain how ghosts work. You see all of this," he gestured to his face and limbs with exaggerated motions, "Is basically all ectoplasm, energy, and magic shaped by the self image of my psyche. So I can shift it to change based on my self image, and that includes my clothes, if I focus. The thing holding it all together is my core." He tapped is chest where his heart should have been. "Basically it's like a...vessel? Yeah, a vessel for my psyche, or spirit, or soul, whatever word you want to use."

"So do you want me to just draw you an outfit, and then you can shift your clothes into that. It might be easier."

"Nuh-uh," Sam said, "That wont work. He can shapeshift, but it's not his specialty. He always shifts back within thirty minutes or sometimes less."

Jazz nodded, "The best thing would be to make him an outfit for his human form, and then he can shift to match that. We can even infuse the fabrics with some of his ectoplasm, so it will be easier for his psyche to recognize it as a part of him."

Marinette froze at the phrasing, and suddenly why Danny was so hesitant to change his ghostly look. His clothes were a part of his self image. This was how his spirit perceived his existence. Marinette began studying hit clothes a lot more closely. Any thing she did could alter his self image for all of eternity, if she wasn't careful. Marinette took a deep breath. This was probably going to end up being the most important piece of her career. "Ok," she said allowing her voice to communicate to Danny just how serious she was taking this commission. "I think I understand. In that case, I'm going to need measurements of both your human form, and your ghost form. If there are any discrepancies, I'm going to need to know now."

Danny smiled softly at her. "Ok." And there was no more arguing or complaining, as he stood patiently while she took his measurements, first in his ghost form, and then in his human form. Jason was writing down the numbers diligently. Almost too diligently, but Marinette understood his silence when he said,

"So this core thing...you said I had one but there was something wrong with it."

"Hmm," Danny said, "Oh yeah. Did you die and get resurrected or something?" Jason nodded silently, completely engrossed in the notepad. "Well, whoever did it did an awful job!"

"Danny!" Jazz exclaimed.

"What? It's true!"

"But that's not how you say it. I am so sorry Jason, my brother can be a little insensitive."

"No it's ok," Jason said, "I'd rather have it blunt and honest, than sugar coated. So what's wrong with me?"

"Nothing's wrong with you per se," Danny mused after a moment of studying Jason. "So obviously you died. And the circumstances were just right so that instead of going to one of the 'afterlives' you went to the space between, the Infinite Realms. Which is probably why you don't remember what happened in between your two lives. Am I right?"

"You'd know better than me," Jason laughed dryly. 'Like you said I don't remember."

"Probably for the best. But anyway," Danny continued, "When you were resurrected, it was done very badly, because you're core is warped. Don't worry it's still intact, so your spirit's safe. But the warped core combined with the corrupted ectoplasm running through your veins! Yeesh! Frankly I'm surprised you're not frothing at the mouth, homicidal maniac right now. Cause that amount of contamination is not good for you mental stability."

The siblings froze and exchanged desperate, almost hopeful looks. "The pit madness," Marinette whispered.

"I get...angry sometimes," Jason explained. "I see green, and then red, and then I...I hurt people."

The girls looked at him with pity, but Danny just nodded with understanding. "Makes sense," was all he said, but Marinette could instantly see the relief of those words wash over Jason's whole being. She knew how much he fought, how much he struggled with his sanity. They tried to help, but pit madness wasn't like normal mental illnesses. It was steeped in ancient magic and the forces of nature them selves. In the end the only advice any of the could logistically give Jason was to fight it. Therapy could give him tools, but when push came to shove none of them understood what it was like.

And to have someone, anyone, say that it made sense. That his reactions to the corruption inside him were not strange, abnormal or grotesque. To have his actions fit inside the bounds of an expected response, a symptom of something that could be categorized...Marinette could not imagine the relief Jason must have been feeling. But it whatever his emotions were they all seemed to be summed up in his next chocked out words, “Is…is there a cure.”

“Yeah, of course there is!” Danny said with his cheerful casualness, that broke all of Jason’s carefully crafted walls. “I can schedule an appointment for you with Frostbite. He’s done some incredible research into the development of Ghost cores. Once, he filters that ectoplasm in your blood stream, it shouldn’t be too difficult to get your core back to it’s proper shape. You’ll have to spend a few days in the Ghost Zone, a week at most. But then your core will start filtering and shaping the ectoplasm on it’s own…think of it as a liver transplant, but with magic and shit.”

“Wow,” Jason breathed. “I…uh…ha…I.t…thank you!”

Danny smiled, “Eh, what are kings for. I mean you are technically one of my subjects.”

“I’m sorry,” Jason said still smiling.

Danny grinned. “When you die, again, you’ll go to the Ghost Zone. My zone. You’re stuck with me buddy!”

Jason threw back his head with a clear bright laugh that was all too rare in Marinette’s opinion. And hearing it now as it rang with hope and joy, only made Marinette’s smile brighter and fuller. They continued to talk about what it would take to get Jason to the Ghost Zone for his “core transplant” as Danny was now calling it. And Marinette was slowly getting a clearer picture of what she was going to make for the young king.

When she finished her measurements and pulled out her note book to start some rough sketches, she turned back to Danny and said, “Ok so we can talk about what you don’t want once I have some ideas mapped out. But first I want to know if there is anything that you do want. A favorite color, a piece of jewelry, a type of belt, anything like that?”

“Your symbol,” Sam said immediately. “You need to have your symbol.”

“I think you should keep your usual color scheme,” Jazz said calmly, “It’s like your signature.”

“Danny?” Marinette asked pointedly.

He thought for a moment and the grinned saying, “Can I get a cape?”

The girls rolled their eyes, and Jason put his head in his hand. But Marinette just beamed and said, “I’ll see what I can do.”

(Who should Marinette design for next?! Comment your requests)

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