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beecastle · 2 years

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lost in the fire

Din offering to walk you home is a proposal you can't refuse

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader

Word count: 2.5k

Rating: +18, minors please go away, thank you!

Warnings: smut, oral sex (f receiving), sex, blindfolds, helmetless!Din and soft!Din

A/N: should I be posting smut at 1 am? who knows, anyway this is set after ch.5 of TBOBF but contains no spoilers for the show. One-shot

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As the night sky slowly turns into day the last people in the bar, most of them regulars, go home, their words slurring when they say goodbye and promise to be back soon. You wave at them from behind the counter like every night, a tired but friendly smile on your face. Once the last customer leaves you collapse on the nearest chair and check your communicator for any messages. You’re supposed to be meeting your best friend in a couple of hours for your belated birthday celebration. You notice a message has arrived, but your illusion and happiness are quickly replaced by disappointment as you read the words.

Work is busy today. Really sorry. Raincheck?

Sighing and without bothering to answer you put the communicator away. You wouldn’t mind him canceling your plans had this not been the third time in a row in no less than two weeks. Was his work really taking that much time or did he just not want to make an effort to see you? Locking away your thoughts and the pain nagging at your heart you decide this is a problem for future you, one who doesn’t have to wash a dozen of glasses in order to finish her shift.

You round the glasses into the counter and proceed to arrange the alcohol bottles when out of the corner of your eye you see movement. With your breath speeding up you hold the bottle as if it was a weapon and walk over there. As you approach the spot you see it’s no other than the Mandalorian, his untouched drink on the table. In the commotion of the night, you thought you saw him leaving a long time ago but guess you had been wrong.

“Just because you’re a semi-regular client doesn’t mean you can sleep here, sorry,” you tell him, plopping down on the opposite seat. A couple of seconds pass and he doesn’t move, making you wonder if he has already dozed off. What are you going to do if he has? It’s not like you can leave him here, your boss, who wasn’t particularly fond of the man, wouldn’t appreciate that decision.

“I’ll be on my way,” he replies startling you out of your thoughts. After your initial surprise has worn off, you reflect on the sadness that tints his otherwise neutral voice. He reaches into his pocket and places some credits on the table, more than enough to pay for the untouched drink. He is about to stand when you stop him by resting your hand on top of his. He looks at you in surprise, but you pretend not to notice, picking the glass with your other hand and turning it around, letting the liquid flow from one side to the other.

“I don’t know what you’re dealing with, but whatever it is this could help.” He nods and takes the glass from you. “Just you and me here and I’m going to the back for a bit so feel free to you know, take that off,” you motion to his helmet. Tapping his hand one last time you stand up.

“Thank you.”

“Of course,” you grin. “Anything for my favorite Mandalorian.” You blow him a kiss and could swear he softly chuckles in response.

There’s really nothing for you to do in the back, inventory is not due until next week. You decide to count until one hundred, that ought to be enough time for him to drink his beverage in peace. You’re only one-third of the way there when your thoughts shift from numbers to the man in the other room, the memories of his hands on your body making your heart race, you’ve always had a good time whenever he was in town. Perhaps your best friend canceling on you was a gift in disguise, guess you’ll find out if he’s in the mood for a more friendly interaction. When you deem enough time has gone by you announce you’re coming back.

“Better?” you ask taking the empty glass from the table.

“Yes. Thank you.” You stay in silence for a solid minute, neither of you making a move until he finally speaks. “May I walk you home?”

“Of course.” You eye the still dirty glasses on the counter and the one you hold in your hand, resigning yourself to come early next shift to finish the cleaning. You go out closing the place behind. The two of you walk side by side in comfortable silence as you watch the sky change colors into different shades of pinks and oranges. You are home in no time, which depending on what happens next could be terrible or extraordinary news. “Thank you,” you tell him with a smile on your face.

“It was my pleasure.” You stay there looking at each other for half a minute more until he speaks again. “Do you have any plans for today?” You can’t help but grin at his attempt of being smooth, he may have numerous strengths but that one isn’t one of them.

“Just relaxing in my cozy warm bed all by myself—” You let a couple of seconds pass, the tension between you rising, before continuing “—unless you want to join me.”

“Don’t tempt me,” he growls. You place a hand on his chest, the metal of the armor cold against your skin, and slowly lick your lips.

“Then what are you waiting for?” you lean forward until your face is an inch away from the helmet. “Are you afraid?”

“Never.” He pushes you until your back is against the door. “Are you opening the door or are we doing it here?” he whispers and your heart pounds at the question. He places his finger against your left breast and trails a path down your body until your pants, fishing a key from the pocket. “Your choice.”

You snatch the key from him and open the door. Once inside you waste no time getting to the bedroom. “C’mon off with the beskar.” You sit on the bed ready to enjoy the show. He takes his time taking the armor off piece by piece and carefully placing them on the floor, only leaving his helmet on. You appreciate the outline of his muscles against his clothes. Your gaze never leaves his body as he gets rid of each piece of clothing except for his underwear, which clearly showcases a growing bulge.

You stand up and walk to him. You trace the scars on his chest with your fingers, your lips placing a kiss on each of them. Once your hands reach his boxers, you slip your fingers between them and his skin. Going down to your knees you pull the underwear to his feet, your face ending right in front of his cock. You stay there for a moment with a smile while he keeps perfectly still wondering what your next move is. Placing a kiss on his lower belly and casually brushing your hand against him you stand up, causing a whimper to escape his lips. The way this usually stoic man responds to your touch intoxicates you.

“My turn,” he says, and you let him take control, shivering under his touch. He starts with your blouse, unbuttoning it slowly. Once that is off, he goes for your bra, his breath hitches when your breasts are freed. He cups them on his hands, and you suspect that if the helmet wasn’t there, he’d be nibbling at your nipples. After a moment of admiration, he moves to your pants, moaning when he notices your wet panties. You squirm in anticipation as he goes to your drawer and returns with a black piece of cloth, the necessary item in all your encounters. Or at least in the ones he wants to use his mouth on you.

“Turn around,” he commands gently. Giving one last look to his body you do as he asks. He moves your hair out of the way and places the blindfold, making sure it’s not too tight or too loose. With your sight gone your other senses heighten, his presence behind you is overwhelming. There’s the sound of his helmet being taken off and then he hugs you, his mouth trailing a path of kisses going from the side of your neck to the back. “You’re so beautiful,” he breathes against your skin, making you quiver and guides you to the bed. “So beautiful,” he repeats as he pushes you onto your back and captures your lips on his. Your hands are in his hair, the soft curls trapped under your fingers.

“You’re too,” you breathe out.

“How can you know that?” There’s that sadness back in his voice, making your heart ache.

“Only pretty people can kiss like this.” You pull him back to you, softly biting on his lower lip, earning a moan.

This is not the first time he has seen you laying like this for him, but each time he can’t help but really take you in, your curves, the shape of your body, the way you squirm under his touch. There are few times where he gets to interact with another being without a helmet and he always savors every single moment. The only thing he misses is seeing your eyes, he bets the painting in front of him would be so much more beautiful so much more complete with your gaze.

He traces your body with his lips, starting on your breasts he descends to your thighs, leaving bite marks here and there, an indication you’re his. He kisses the interior side of each thighs and you tremble when you feel him so close. The moment he lets his tongue circle your clit a curse comes from you and your hands find their way to his hair encouraging him to continue. God, he loves the sound of your voice. He keeps tracing circles and sucking gently, enjoying the salty taste that fills his mouth.

He senses how close you are to blissfulness, and he stops, making you grunt in frustration. With his tongue on your body, he traces the path back to your mouth until your lips are on his, and only then does he continue the work his tongue left unfinished with his fingers.

When you’re once again close to coming, he pulls his lips from yours despite your protests and moves next to your ear. “You’re so good for me angel, so good.” He speeds the movement of his fingers and can feel you trembling under his touch. “I want to hear you,” he whispers.

“Oh god. Oh god. Please.” Upon hearing the beautiful words he can cause from you a wish sets upon his heart. It might be reckless, he might regret it, but he gives in to his desire, he wants nothing more than to hear you scream his name so in an instant of impulsivity he whispers it to you.

“What?” You slightly turn your head panting, not quite registering what he told you.

“Din. That’s my name, it’s yours to scream angel.” He continues moving his fingers until you tense up and clench your legs around his arm, your body shaking from the high and your lips exhaling his name. He keeps his touch gentle as he carries you through the orgasm until he’s sure you’re finished.

“A man who carries a name as beautiful as Din can only be just as beautiful.” You say once you manage to regain your breath. The way you say his name is so nice, so loving and he wants to keep hearing it forever. You cup his cheeks with your hands, tracing over his cheekbone with your thumbs. You pull him to you and capture his lips, kissing him gently. And Din makes a decision.

Din.

You savor the delightful name on your lips. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you wonder what made him tell you. But you don’t have time to entertain the question for too long as he kisses your neck and lightly bites down on your shoulder, enough to leave a mark but not to hurt. You move your hands through his back, dragging your nails over his strong muscles. He pulls you up until you’re sitting and moves his hands to the blindfold.

“What are you doing?” You ask placing your hands on his arms once he moves it down a bit.

“You don’t need this.” His voice is one of a confident yet unsure man.

“What?”

“You don’t need to wear it.”

“What changed?” you ask but he stays silent so you try another question. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

He moves his hands to the back of your head and unties the blindfold. Once it comes off, you blink a few times as your eyes adjust to the sudden brightness of the room. When your vision is back you set your gaze on the man in front of you. You see his brown curls, the ones you have felt so many times under your fingers, you see his red lips, the ones that have made you scream so many times and you see his kind brown eyes on yours, waiting for your reaction.

“See? I told you. Beautiful.” You close the space between you and give him a peck on the lips. And then another on his mustache, on his chin, on his cheek, you can’t seem to stop placing kisses all over him now that you have his handsome face in front of you. He relaxes under the ministrations of your mouth. While you kiss his shoulder, you take his cock on your hand, moving it up and down, his breath hitching. You circle his tip with your finger, gathering precum you take it to your mouth, sucking on your finger, your eyes never leaving his.

“You’re gorgeous,” he purrs and gently lays you on your back, slipping himself into you. With each thrust, you can feel your stomach churning and the climax building up. He takes one hand down to your clit and the moment he rubs it you’re a goner. As your vision momentarily goes black, your walls clench around him, and with a grunt, he comes too. You hold each other through the high and once he recovers he slips out of you and moves to your side. You place your head on his chest and he holds you with both arms placing a kiss on your head.

Once your breath slows down Din knows you have fallen asleep. As you lay on his chest, he stays perfectly still, for the first time in his life he won’t leave. At least not today, at least not right now. He remembers how you pronounced his name with such a passion and ferocity but also careful and loving. He remembers your gaze when you made love, your kind eyes on his and he feels complete. Maybe, just maybe, there’s more than one way to life.

Taglist: @sunflowersturn @littlemisspascal

#din djarin #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #bee castle writing #minors dni

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the-scandalorian · 3 years

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Wreckage | Refuge

Pairing: Din Djarin x Gender Neutral Reader Rating: M Word Count: 3.7k Warnings: canon-typical violence, serious injury/near-death experience, angst, thoughts about death and dying, blood, Mando carries the injured reader, a touch of spice Summary: This is based on this enemies to lovers request from @tuskens-mando and the same one from @fisforfulcrum. Thank you both!

perfect gif by @bestintheparsec

You faded in and out of consciousness, like a lightbulb flickering feebly before it burns out completely. Time elapsed in fits and starts, the twin suns moving across the sky quickly, then slowly, then quickly again. You lay immobile on the warm sand, your limbs numb and heavy, your head pounding, and the cobalt shadows of the boulders standing sentinel around you shifted and grew over your prone form. You could feel it in the way the heat of the unremitting suns gave way to the cool relief of shade.

You had always known the risk—that this was the way you might die, injured and alone. It came with the territory: hunting was largely a solitary profession, and hunters had a short life expectancy. You’d hoped at the very least that when it did happen, it would be mercifully quick...not like this. Not slow and torturous. Not with you laid out in the desert, completely vulnerable, an offering for the next apex predator that prowled by.

Every time you remembered that you needed to get up and drag yourself back to your speeder bike, it hit you that all that remained of it were the mangled pieces strewn around you. Then your awareness would sputter and fail again. And so it continued like that, a blur of disjointed thoughts floating through your mind like the sparse clouds spread out above you, each one less tangible than the last.

He pulled you back to consciousness by saying your name. His was a familiar voice, and the distinct sound of it made something in your gut tense up, but not out of fear. No, it was hope—the faintest vestige of hope. Mando. Mando might help you. You were technically rivals, but he didn’t want you dead. Right? He’d had plenty of chances to kill you and always refrained.

You weren’t going to die like this.

Not today.

***

The funny thing was that you’d been thinking about Mando when it happened.

The twin suns were beating down on the arid landscape, wind whipping across your face, and you were happy. Actually, you were more than happy—you were smug as you pushed your speeder bike to its limits, racing over the rises and swells of the Dune Sea. The quarry was tied up and unconscious on the seat behind you.

You were thinking about how you couldn’t wait to see Mando back on Nevarro, couldn’t wait for him to watch with requisite resentment as you towed the bounty to Greef. He always got so quiet when you gloated after a victory, brooding in his tacit anger. The cool blank mask of his helmet didn’t fool you; you could tell when he was pissed, and that only spurred you on more. He was a silent loser, but you were a loquacious winner... and unabashedly so. Getting a rise out of him—watching the twitch of his gloved fingers or reading the growing tension in his neck—was so satisfying. His bitterness almost tasted sweeter than the victory itself. Almost.

It was fun to get in his head, to add a little salt to his wound. That’s why you teased him. That’s why you cared that he cared when you bested him.

To your credit, Mando was similarly insufferable when he triumphed—perhaps not quite as talkative, but by his standards, he was downright verbose. Last time that happened, a couple weeks ago, he stopped where you were sitting in a booth in the cantina and fixed you with that obsidian visor, tilting his helmet down to look at you.

“Maybe next time,” he’d said, and you could hear the smile behind his words.

His hand rested on your table, and you had to fight the urge to slap it off. Instead, you fixed him with a sour glare and said, “I had already disarmed three of the four guards when you got there. You’re welcome for the help.”

“As if that made a difference,” he scoffed.

You gritted your teeth in irritation: “You snatched the bounty while I was still fighting the last one!”

He shrugged. “Guess you shouldn’t have gotten so distracted.”

You rolled your eyes at him, fuming. “Next time, I’m going to have the quarry back here before you can catch up with me, so you can’t take advantage of my progress.”

“We’ll see,” he offered.

“This barely counts as a win for you,” you seethed.

“Okay, sure,” he replied, patting your forearm in a decidedly patronizing manner. Before you could retort, he’d sauntered away with an uncharacteristic ease in his step.

He was getting a little too good at pushing your buttons.

Usually, on a job like this one, Mando would be hotter on your heels, just an hour or two behind you. But this time, you’d been extra efficient, quick, lucky even—you were making good on your promise to him, staying far ahead. It was one of those jobs where everything fell into place so beautifully: it all seemed to work out in your favor.

Until it didn’t.

You didn’t see the trip wire as you barreled between two outcroppings of rock. All you registered was a jolt, the sensation of being thrown into the air, and the awful crunching sound of your speeder bike getting obliterated. You landed hard on your back in the sand, your head swimming and heart pounding. You knew that you needed to get up, to fight. You could hear the sounds of four distinct voices as they emerged from behind the rock structures, and you recognized them immediately. This group of hunters was always on your tail, far behind Mando.

The short woman, the ringleader, stood over you. She chuckled as she pressed the toe of her heavy boot down on your shoulder to ensure you’d stay put. From this angle, her face was hidden in shadow by the bright suns behind her, but you could still hear the self-satisfied sneer behind her words.

“Thanks so much for bringing him back for us. Saved us quite a bit of work.”

Anger lit a fuse inside you. You gritted your teeth and shoved down the pain—ignoring the acute sting of every scrape, the throbbing behind your eyes, and the blunt ache that radiated up your left leg all the way to your lower back.

Lightning fast, you grabbed her ankle and yanked, rolling your body away from her and pulling her down hard. She grunted and cursed behind you as she fell, but you were already scrambling away in a hail of sand to get to your feet when she reached out for you. You leapt up into your fighting stance, blaster in one hand, blade in the other.

But you were too dazed from the crash. Too unsteady on your injured leg. Too outnumbered. Too alone.

They were on you right away. You got in several blaster shots and a few slashes between the four of them. And they repaid you in kind.

***

You blinked your eyes open, squinting to adjust to the bright light. He was crouched over you, and his stupid helmet was so fucking shiny. Too shiny. The reflection burned your eyes, so you turned your head away from the searing gleam, your cheek pillowed by the warm sand. Nice. That feels nice.

You felt his hands running over your body, checking the extent of your injuries, and it roused you slightly, your eyes fluttering open for a moment. He rarely touched you, apart from the occasional condescending arm pat or the even less frequent bout of hand-to-hand combat. You usually didn’t let things get to that point because you knew he could overpower you if he wanted to.

For a moment, you were distracted by how large his hands felt, how foreign—but also how gentle? He was careful with you. The sound of fabric being torn penetrated your fogged mind, and he eased your shoulders up with one strong arm, cradling your head in his palm to wrap something around your middle. Then, you felt the sensation of tight pressure around your ribcage. He was stopping the bleeding. Something strained in your chest relaxed just the slightest bit.

Mando said your name again, and the only thing you could think was: he never says my name.

In fact, even in your hazy state, you were completely sure that this was the first time Mando had ever said your name. You didn’t even know he knew your name. Usually, when you ran into him in pursuit of a quarry, all he had to offer you was a series of grunts and curses, maybe a threatening hey you, perhaps the occasional wide blaster shot in warning. But it was always just that—in warning.

You both fought hard and dirty to earn your prize... but never to injure. He’d caught you off guard and wrestled you to the ground, leaving you handcuffed to a pipe, so he could get a target first. Another time, you’d locked him in a cargo bay and stolen the bit and bridle from his dewback to make it impossible to ride. You both always wanted to win, to be the one to cash in the bounty, but you’d never fought to kill and neither had he. He could have if he wanted to—easily, honestly. You had confidence in your abilities, but he had a suit of impenetrable armor and a fucking flame thrower.

He didn’t want to though; he was too bound to his honor. That was the main reason you bested him about half the time—that was how you managed to steal quarries right out from under his nose. And he hated you for it. You knew it drove him nuts, but still, you never directly threatened his safety, so he never threatened yours. His rigid code outweighed your long-standing enmity.

He said your name again and gently shook your shoulder. When you didn’t respond, he pinched your chin between his leather-clad thumb and forefinger and adjusted your head in an effort to get you to focus on him. You blinked your heavy eyelids open, unsure of when they had fallen closed again, and tried to concentrate on the black t-shape of his visor. It was difficult, but you conjured what little energy you had left. Your vision was blurred, his image swimming vaguely before your eyes, and despite several quick blinks, the crisp lines of his beskar remained muddied.

How did he manage to be so attractive without showing an inch of skin? You hated that about him.

“Who did this to you?”

To be fair, a large part of his appeal was that fucking voice.

You gazed blankly at him. The truth—the answer to his question—hunkered somewhere in the shadows of your mind, but you couldn’t grasp it even though it was there so recently. You reached out for it, but it evaded you, slipping through your fingers like grains of sand.

Mando pinched your chin again, his other hand framing your cheek.

“Who did this to you?” This time the question was growled, low and threatening.

He could tell you were fading, so he grabbed the truth by the scruff and pulled it into the light: “Was it them? Did they catch up to you?”

You knew who he meant: the pack of hunters that was always dogging both your steps. They were ruthless and conniving but slow, so they usually didn’t pose much of a threat. In the end, though, they had proven to be even more brutal than you had anticipated. They weren’t bound by any sense of honor.

Yes, yes. Them.

You nodded at him, one subtle jerk of your head.

He growled again. And even in your half-dead state, his low snarl stirred something in your chest; that something uncoiled and flicked its tongue, testing the air. It tasted potential, even in this wreckage.

But just as it lifted its hopeful head, Mando stood abruptly, his hands falling from your face.

“You’ll be okay now. I need to—” he said, but you didn’t catch the rest of his sentence as he turned away, and before you could say something or try to lift an unresponsive arm to reach for him, he started to walk away. You struggled to keep your eyes open as you watched the shine of his beskar recede, the heat rising from the sand around him in shimmering waves. You waited for him to turn around and come back.

Maybe he wasn’t as soft as you suspected. Maybe his offer of help ended with triage.

Somehow, watching him leave stung more than anything else. To have hope handed to you, wrapped up in a familiar silver package, only to be snatched away… was too much. You were rivals, sure, but amicable ones with a charming back-and-forth—two people who would never get along but had a mutual understanding, a shared sense of morality. At least, you thought you were.

Any remaining determination to hold on dissipated when he disappeared from your sight.

Let it be quick.

Smoke encroached on the edges of your vision, and the ochre landscape faded to sienna, faded to blood red, faded to black.

***

The next thing you became aware of was movement, jostling—a pair of sturdy arms was handling your limp body, hauling you up and adjusting you in an iron hold. Fuck. Your adrenaline kicked in, only partially blotting out the overwhelming pain, and you acted on pure instinct: in one quick motion, you snapped your eyes open and threw your elbow out, catching your attacker right in the jugular.

He grunted and dropped you, everything a blur of limbs and sand and silver.

Before your brain could catch up, you landed hard on your back—OUCH—and reached down to your ankle to pull out your blade, whipping it up to meet the figure descending on you. At the same time, Mando swooped down and grasped your wrist, preempting your strike. You looked up into his familiar visor and let the knife drop.

“It’s me,” he said soothingly, his thumb rubbing circles on the inside of your wrist. “It’s just me.”

“Mando,” you breathed, your body relaxing. You let your head flop down onto the sand in relief, but as soon as you were sprawled out, you became so aware of each and every one of your injuries that the pain took your breath away.

He crouched at your side, blocking out the intense light of the two suns that were hanging low on the horizon.

“You’re safe now.”

Safe.

Hurting and broken... but safe.

The feeling of relief flooded your veins, replacing the ice of adrenaline with warmth.

He came back.

Mando carefully gathered you in his arms again, and you winced as he moved your bruised body. The pain subsided slightly when you were settled with your head resting against his shoulder, your arms clinging to him without shame.

Your voice was small when you said, “You came back.”

He tilted his helmet down. “No,” he said, “I didn’t leave. You passed out again while I was checking that they were really gone.”

“Oh.”

He walked in silence for a moment then looked down at you again.

“Did you really think I’d leave you out here?”

“I—” but you stopped talking when your voice cracked on that one word.

Again, he helped you when you couldn’t answer.

“No one else gets as angry as you do when I beat them to a quarry. Hunting wouldn’t be as satisfying without that, so I can’t have you out of commission.”

A smile pulled at your lips.

He carried you the rest of the way to his ship, a Razor Crest that you'd only ever seen from a distance, and laid you down on a cot in the hull. As he patched you up, your consciousness dimmed and brightened, waning from attentive to gray to black and back again.

Each time you came to, you reached out to find some part of him—his wrist, his knee, anything physical to cling to—to assure yourself of his enduring presence.

***

You forced your eyes open again when he said your name. The pain in your body had quieted to a dull ache. He was still sitting beside you, and he took your hand between his when yours immediately sought out contact.

“I have to go.”

His words jolted you.

He was looking at you through the tinted glass of his visor, and you’d never felt so stripped down, so bare. You couldn’t explain it; you were completely covered—the most he’d removed was your shirt to access your side wound, but he’d replaced it with one of his own. He’d even tucked a blanket around you.

And yet, you felt like a raw nerve. You stared up at him with wide, pleading eyes, and you were certain he could see the fear there. Maybe it was being forced to confront your own morality twice in one day. Maybe it was having your ass saved by your least favorite person. Maybe it was the bloodloss. Whatever it was, it hit you with a vengeance, left you hollow and needy.

He cocked his head and squeezed your hand, not yet standing up. “I’ll be back. Rest.”

You tried to scrape together some words to express how much you needed him to not leave you. You came up short—everything sounded too pathetic. When you didn’t reply, he nodded, released your hand, and got to his feet. Before you could stop yourself, you reached out for him. You weren’t proud of it, but you were too exhausted to care. You grabbed his arm.

“Please… don’t leave me yet.”

He looked down at you and thawed—despite his rigid metal shell, you could see it. His shoulders dropped, and he stepped back toward you, closing the gap between you in an instant. His hand came up to your cup face, his long forefinger under your ear, his thumb framing your cheek.

The leather of his gloves was broken in, worn into softness. Years of work and violence had wrought stiff hide into butter. You closed your eyes and leaned into his touch, nuzzling like a pleased cat.

“I’ll be back. I promise.”

You believed him. You trusted him—you always had, on some instinctual level. He came back, and he would again.

You understood that he needed to get the bounty, and after all you’d been through, you wanted it to be him to bring them in. But still, your fingers curled into the thick fabric of his duraweave, clinging. If you’d had claws, they would have been extended, dug into his shirt.

He hesitated, looking toward the open ramp and back down at you. In a quick movement, he leaned down and pressed the front of his helm to your forehead. The smooth beskar was colder than you’d expected, but it was the warmth of the gesture that took your breath away for a moment.

He reassured you again, whispering, “I’ll be back,” and this time you thought you could hear a soft smile in his voice. He liked you like this—open, unarmored.

You retracted and relented. Against your will, you released him, and he straightened.

You lay back down, and exhaustion pulled you under again. Your eyes were closed before the ramp had even shut behind Mando’s retreating form.

***

When he returned to you, his armor was less shiny. It was covered by a layer of dust and blood and blaster residue. He was tired. You could see the weight in his steps, but there was no body slung over his shoulder. You propped yourself up on your elbows and took him in.

“Are you okay?”

He looked up at you, and even through the helmet, you could feel his exhaustion. He looked… exactly how you felt. He looked like he needed. Like he was wanting. Even though every part of him was covered, he looked stripped down.

He closed the ramp behind him with a weak slap to the control panel.

And even though it made no sense, even though just a handful of hours ago you would have named him among your enemies, it just felt right to be the one to comfort him, and he you. You didn’t question it.

“Come here,” you said, reaching out for him.

But before he came to you, he hesitated and looked down at his chest. He knew how filthy he was, so he removed his armor one piece at a time, letting each drop to the floor. He stripped down to his flight suit, and even then, unzipped it, leaving him in a soft black shirt and boxer briefs. The last thing that retained any evidence of violence was his helmet; it was spattered with dark blood. Mando reached back and pressed a red button on the control panel, bathing the hull in darkness.

For one silent beat, you held your breath.

You heard the release of his helmet, and he walked his way over to you, his bare feet quiet on the metal floor. He placed a tentative hand on your forearm when he was standing beside the cot. You gripped his wrist and tugged him down next to you.

He fit against your back perfectly, like he was meant to curl around your frame and hold you close to his chest. Both of your bodies melted at the contact, tense muscles relaxing. He smelled like sweat and smoke and sun, but you found that you didn’t mind.

“Where’s the bounty?”

He sighed. “I don’t know.”

“They got away?”

“Not sure, I didn’t look for the bounty.”

“What do you mean?”

“I didn’t leave to get the bounty. I left to take care of the hunters.”

You turned suddenly in his embrace, maneuvering so you could face him in the dark. “To take care… of the hunters?”

You felt him shrug. “Yes.”

“You killed… them all?”

He fumbled blindly for a moment, adjusting and settling only when his forehead was pressed to yours. “Of course. They left you to die.”

It felt natural—the way your lips found his in the dark, the way his body responded to yours, the way his rough palms fit the shape of your hips. You learned him with your lips, with the pads of your fingertips, slowly and carefully replacing the cold, detached image of him in your mind with this warm, living reality.

On some fundamental level, you just fit. And maybe you’d always known.

***

everything taglist:

@amneris21 @beskarprincessjenny @c-a-v-a-l-r-y @chattychell @cindyy-mayybe @coreychick @dincrypt @djarinlatinlady @elisder @Eri16 @feralhotmess @fisforfulcrum @galacticgraffiti @girlofchaos @goldielocks2004 @gracie7209 @heavenseed76 @iamskyereads @jasterslegacy @javierpinme @kirsteng42 @lemonboynsp @lexloon @mando-amando @meanperegrine @melody13522 @mermaidxatxheart @mypedrom @over300books @pedrostories @pentechnics @pumpkin-stars @readsalot73 @readsalot73 @rebelpitstop @salome-c @sesamepancakes @spideysimpossiblegirl @tacticalsparkles @the-little-ewok @thisshipwillsail316 @tobealostwanderer @TombRaider42017 @toomanystoriessolittletime @trashbuns @tuskens-mando

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stardust-kenobi · 3 years

Text

My Purpose

Din Djarin/Mando x Reader

Summary: You're captured by the Empire, held for questioning concerning the location of the child. Under Moff Gideon's supervision, you endure harsh punishment. You knew that Din would never leave you behind. The moment you heard blasters firing rapidly outside your holding cell, you knew he'd come back for you.

Warnings: violence, mild torture to reader (no SA), mention of blood, death, reader being "helpless", helmetless Din, fluff

Word count: 2.8k

A/N: I mean, don't we all fantasize about being rescued by a bounty hunter as a helpless damsel in distress? Just me? well, enjoy anyways. This honestly reads like a Mandalorian episode. @ jon favreau, hire me pls. reader is referred to as “her” once or twice but otherwise can be read as gender neutral.

gif credit: @isetthetone

"I won't talk" You spat at the men towering over you. You were firm, and steady in your composure. More troopers, higher ranking than the predecessors, continued in the attempt to break you. The Empire wanted the child, and you'd never let them get close. The vents blasted near frozen air onto your shoulders from above, insulated in your holding cell that was encased with metal and designed for discomfort.

Without another helpless word, and the press of a little red button, bolts of electricity coursed throughout your already exhausted body, delivered by the small device forcibly wrapped around your head. The pain was excruciating, but you were beginning to feel numb with every passing second. This was the 5th...no, 6th time...so far, that this pain has been inflicted on you. It benefitted neither party in the room. You offered no evidence of weakness aside from your obvious pain. They had to know that you weren't any close to revealing any useful information.

"If you won't talk, Moff Gideon will be taking matters into his own hands. Give us the location of the kid, or suffer the consequences" Their voices were muffled in a similar way that Din's helmet muffled his voice. It reminded you of him in an oddly comforting way. You missed him terribly already. Without even seeing the true look in Din's eyes when they captured you only seconds before you were able to make it to the Razor Crest, you knew his heart made the most difficult decision he's ever had to make. You knew it was you or the child, and neither of us would ever let them get their hands on him.

Although you kept your composure in the presence of your captors, you were scared. Petrified, even. Din swore to himself many months ago to protect you in exchange for you assisting him in raising the child. You knew little of childcare, but Din knew you could both figure it out together. After all, you did owe him big time for saving your life when you first met. And here we were, right back where it all started...you needed to be saved again. You hoped he'd gotten the child miles away from here by now. You'd lost track of time but it felt like hours, maybe even half a day at this point.

Your silence was the only response to the further questions.

"Suit yourself" One of the troopers scoffed, and swiftly exited with his partner. The door slid open and closed just barely long enough for them to leave. You were then trapped, cold, and alone again. As much as you wanted to be relieved from your situation, you cared significantly more for the safety of the child and your armored protector.

The minutes dragged and your chest felt heavy as the panic began to sink in. This was it for you. No way they’d let you leave after being of no use to them. Your death was inevitable, and your racing thoughts began to slow as you came to peace with that.

You heard the faint hissing of a door on the other side of your cell, signifying someone's entry. Then suddenly, your cell door slid open, revealing a towering figure. Although you'd never seen the late Darth Vader, the way you imagined him was reflected in this man.

The jet-black shine of his armor was enough to startle you in his presence. But his expression...the menacing grin framed the picture of a despicable man.

Your face was blank. Showing any fear was not an option right now. Although, you were subtly trembling in your seat.

"You know that you've made a big mistake, right?" He said, approaching you slowly, using his height to tower over you while you were seated on a steel bench.

Silence.

"Your beloved bounty hunter isn't coming back for you," Moff Gideon said softly, getting uncomfortably close to your face. "Why not just comply with our requests so we can move along with the search? hm?"

"You'll never find them" You hissed at him.

"Oh, actually I will. That you can count on" He laughed. The insulting tone made you sick. "However, if you tell us where they are, your torture will come to an end and we can get this whole thing over with. What do you say?"

"Never."

"Your persistence is admiring, truly it is. But why waste your time? He doesn't care about you. He's a Mandalorian. They only care about their creed. Everything else is just...a commodity."

You shook your head in denial. That wasn't true.

"You're wrong."

His gloved hand firmly grabbed your chin, pulling your face up toward him. You cringed and winced under his touch.

“Where are they?” He persistently shouted in your face. You jolted your head backward in attempt to put distance between the two of you. With your response of more silence, you were met with a sharp and painful blow to the side of your face. You turned to look back at him, trying to collect yourself from the pain. His fist was still tight and ready to throw another punch.

The second punch was worse, it radiated pain through your entire skull and caused your eyes to go blurry for a moment. The cuts already open on your cheek were split open with damage you were taking. You felt the blood begin to drip down your face. Any additional infliction would be hell, but you’d take any pain necessary to keep everything you loved safe.

His other hand brought to your attention a small red button. The same button the stormtroopers used to electrocute you before. You whimpered in anticipation and tears involuntarily formed in your eyes.

A deranged smile spread across his face. Your fear just fueled his power. And just before he could inflict any additional pain on you, he seemed to have received transmission into his ear.

His brows furrowed. His eyes then locked with yours.

"Repeat, commander" a look of concern was on his face. Disbelief, even.

"Don't let him step foot on my ship" Moff Gideon seethed.

Although you were uninformed to the other side of the conversation, there was no question. You grinned ear to ear. He came back for you. Of course he did.

"Well, change of plans. The Mandalorian dies today" Moff Gideon snickered.

"We'll see about that" You whispered.

The ship shook and vibrated under your feet. As if a ship had docked...or crashed, maybe. Moff Gideon snapped his attention behind him, as if he could see what was happening through the secured doors.

Another transmission came through, one you still weren't able to hear.

"If he doesn't have the child, then he's no use to me. Kill him."

Your heart sank at the mere thought of losing him. But it wouldn't happen. Gideon's troopers were no match.

Moff Gideon kept his close watch over you while he hid like a coward in your cell with you. His hand rested atop his blaster in preparation for what he knew was to come. The cruiser you were aboard had a crew of probably 50 people. If they all served to be as awful at combat as other troopers that you’d seen Din take down, you’d be rescued in no time.

You watched Gideon’s body language grow more and more nervous and fidgety as the commotion grew on the other side of the door. Blasters and the sharp clinking of metal filled the narrow space of the ships walls. That muffled sound was moving closer. As the situation became less favorable for Gideon, it became more favorable for you. That fact alone put a smile on your face.

Then suddenly…three loud bangs penetrated the walls. It sounded as though someone was trying to break through the first door. But that wasn’t regular armor hitting the metal…it was beskar. Gideon trembled. He jolted when the banging arrived at your cell door. He was displeased to hear you laugh at his reaction, which fueled his anger.

He yanked your arm and threw you in front of him as a human shield, pulling his arm around your chest and igniting the dark saber, holding it only centimeters from your throat. The blade vibrated loudly, threatening to take your life in one motion. What a fucking coward. Can’t even fight without using you as bait.

It took less time for Din to break through the second door. Within seconds, the door snapped and broke open, revealing your protector wrapped in his armor as usual. What was unusual, though, was the splattered blood across his chest plate. You couldn’t even imagine what he’d just been through to get to you.

“Step another foot closer and she dies” Moff Gideon insisted.

“Let her go” his soothing voice broke through his helmet, calming your nerves, even with death being only a movement away. “You’re outnumbered, Moff Gideon”

“I would disagree. It seems it’s one on one”

He pulled the saber closer to your neck. You whimpered and squinted your eyes shut. Tears threatened to fall from your eyes as you opened them back up. You see Din’s fist in a ball, revealing his frustration and anger.

“Based on your fighting skills I’d say it’s more like two on one, wouldn’t you think?” Din snapped back at him.

“Alright. Let’s fight then, Mandalorian” Gideon said with a smirk on his face. He threw you down carelessly back onto the bench. You cried out in pain as your face hit in the cold seat.

Both men circled one another with their weapon of choice in the ready position. The saber was still ignited, and Din had his staff of beskar. No lightsaber could ever cut through beskar, not even the dark saber. Din swung first, striking Gideon’s side armor. He retaliated, only to be met with the staff that rejected the saber’s power.

There were flashes of blinding light back and forth, both men having a fair chance against the other. You watched in terrifying anticipation, fearful of Din’s safety. You believed in him, but to watch him fight scared you. After a few minutes, Din finally had Gideon pinned against the floor, with the beskar staff pointed right below his chin. The saber was thrown from his hands, and out of his reach.

This was it, you thought. We are getting out of here.

But not yet. Gideon made a move so swiftly you couldn’t even comprehend what had happened. The staff was knocked from Din’s grip, and he was thrown backward onto the floor. Gideon somehow maneuvered himself on top of him now, with the staff in his control.

No. Please no.

He could’ve killed him in one motion, but instead, Gideon pushed the staff under the grip of Din’s helmet and forcefully pulled it from his head, slicing his chin in the process. You gasped and looked away, to be respectful of his creed. You’d never seen him without his helmet. All you caught glimpse of was the deep brown color of his hair.

You only listened now, as you were unable to watch how this would end.

“You have nothing now” Gideon started, breathing heavy through his words. “Your creed has been broken. You have no purpose” he laughed, pleased with himself for to bring shame to his opponent. "Give it up, Din Djarin."

A familiar voice broke the air that you’d ever only heard through the distortion of a helmet. You gasped softly.

“She is my purpose. The child is my purpose. I won’t let you take that away from me” Din said. It sounded like the voice was directed toward you rather than Gideon based on your positioning. You melted at his words.

Not another word was spoken before the clanging of metal filled the room again, you couldn’t tell what was happening, which made you all the more terrified. Gideon groaned in pain, it sounded as if he was on the ground now.

“You’ll never take the child. And you’ll never see the light of day again. All because you took my girl” Din breathed deep through his words.

You heard the dark saber ignite again.

The vibration from the saber indicated a swift movement.

A loud thud against the ground.

Silence.

You trembled with your arms covering your head in a fetal position on the bench. You knew it had to be Din who was still standing, but you couldn’t bring yourself to move.

“Y/N” his warm voice graced your ears only inches from behind you. You audibly sobbed. Knowing immediately you were safe. He was still helmet-less, you could tell. You turned over to face him, but kept your eyes closed so you wouldn’t see him.

The electrocution device wrapped around your head was removed gently. You'd somehow forgotten it was even there. His hands then wrapped around yours as you moved to sit in an upright position.

“Look at me” he pleased softly

“But your hel-” you started

“Look at me” he insisted, squeezing your hands gently.

Your eyelids folded open slowly. You weren’t afraid, but you were hesitant. He was crouched in front of you. What you saw as your gaze met his, took your breath away. His eyes were brown, a match to his hair you caught glimpse of before. It was Din. You were finally seeing the man you loved for what he really looked like. He was so beautiful. All the words you wanted to say failed to leave your mouth as you scanned his face over and over again. His expression was riddled with worry and concern.

“Did he do this to you?” He referred to the gash above your cheek, and the other visible bruising down your body. You were suddenly aware of how deeply he cared for you.

On the verge of tears and still remaining speechless, you nodded your head. “I’m okay”

“He’ll never take you from me or lay a hand on you again” your eyes travelled over to Gideon’s lifeless body on the floor. Din gently pulled your face back to look at him so you wouldn’t be more traumatized than you already were.

“I’m here” he reassured you. A smile formed on his lips. Maker…that smile. You were seeing him smile for the first time. Sweat and patches of blood scattered Din's face. You couldn't imagine the hell he went through to get to you.

“But Din, your helmet” you remained confused. You knew that meeting other Mandalorian recently may have changed his outlook but you never thought he’d break the creed intentionally. He could’ve put it back on. But he didn’t.

“It’s okay... I wanted to see you with my own eyes. You are my purpose now, y/n”

He said it again. The same sentiment that surprised you before. Your heart was so full in that moment.

"I'm sorry I wasn't here sooner" He remorsefully spoke. "Its my job to protect you, and I almost failed you. It'll never happen again"

You shake your head. He didn't need to apologize. He was here now and that's all that mattered.

“I’ve never been happier to see someone’s face in my entire life” you say, continuing to admire his features. You bring your hand to cup the side of his face. He closed his eyes gently as a result of your caress. Your skin against his was so mesmerizing...so new to you...so new to him. You halted your gaze this time at his lips and then looked back to his eyes. He was looking at your lips too.

Neither of you had to say another word. An unspoken desire between the two of you was about to be fulfilled. His finger guided your chin closer to him.

The silence was so loud. The lack of troopers and personnel on the ship was haunting, yet somehow incredibly peaceful. The beating of your heart was beginning to fill that silence in your ears. It beat rapidly in response to your near death experience in addition to being this close to him. Being completely alone and intimate with him.

You leaned in to him with his guidance. As your lips just barely brushed against his, you took a sharp breath in. The skin on his lips was supple and warm. As you fully pressed your mouth against his, you fell apart into his kiss. Your whole body was encased in warmth and a feeling of security from this closeness with him. His hand rested against the back of your neck and pulled you closer into the kiss, if that was even possible. Even though you were truly alone, this kiss alone made it feel like you and him were the only two people left in the whole galaxy.

You never wanted to pull away from him. You both waited so long for this moment.

"You don't know how long I've wanted to do that" He whispered, as the kiss finally broke.

"I do, Din. Trust me I do" You giggled. You were captivated by the feeling that this kiss had left with you.

He pulled his head back to take another look at you.

"Let's get you home" He said, before standing to his feet.

Even weak from his battle wounds, he scooped you up into his arms, and carried you back to the Razor Crest.

#mandalorian #the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin fluff #mandalorian fluff #the mandalorian fluff #my work #stardust-kenobi #star wars #star wars fanfiction #mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x you #din djarin x you #star wars fic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fluff #pedro pascal x reader

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chaotic-simping · 2 years

Text

REQUEST GUIDELINES/FANDOM LIST:

last update: 03.01.2022 2nd August, 2022 14th November, 2022 1st April, 2024

If you want to request something pls give me some more or less specific ideas or a few prompts (link for prompt list).

I'll automatically do platonic relationship and they/them pronouns if it's not specified.

Also, english isn't my first language you've been warned.

What I don't take requests for:

Stuff i might write if im in the mood but probably won't ( There are always going on be warnings ofc)

smut

suggestive stuff

toxic relationships (might appear in a criminal minds fic or something like that, never romantizised)

darkfics

arguments

enemies to lovers

What I don't write in general:

romantizised toxic relationships

rape, incest, pedophilia, age gap (teacher/student as well) etc.

romance for characters under 14 y/o

male reader x lesbian character or female reader x gay character

about poc/trans/mlm struggles - they are obviously very very real but i am white and sapphic (not saying i won't write about characters that are any of these things, i'll do my best to make the reader gender, race, body size etc inclusive.)

What I write:

Character(s) x reader

Gender Neutral/Non-binary!, Female!, Male!reader. Obv gender ≠ pronouns but it's th

Mixed pronouns (ex. they/she), THEORETICALLY neo pronouns?

Background ships

AUs (SOULMATES!!!)

Crossovers (read fandom list)

Platonic, romantic, unspecified or familial relationship

Fandoms/characters:

Star Wars:

Romantic: Anakin Skywalker, Padmé Amidala, young!Obi-wan,

Ahsoka Tano, Asajj Ventress, Bariss Offi, Rex, Echo, Fives,

Cal Kestis,

Kanan Jarrus, Hera Syndylla, Sabine Wren,

Jyn Erso, Cassian Andor,

Din Djarin, Fenec Shnad,

Rey Skywalker, Finn

+more

Platonic: Everyone above, Obi-wan Kenobi, The Bad Batch, The ghost crew, Grogu,

Won't write: Ben Solo/Kylo Ren, Hux

Ships: Anidala, Barrisoka, Kanera, Finnpoe

Knowledge: All movies, almost all shows/cartoons (except Resistance), books - Master and apprentice, games - started JFO and (barley) SWTOR

Marvel:

Romantic: Miles Morales, Gwen Stacy, Hobie Brown, Peter Parker, Natasha Romanov, Wanda Maximoff, Kate Bishop

Platonic: Everyone above, Peter B Parker, Yelena Belova,

Stranger things:

Romantic: Robin Buckley, Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson, Nancy Wheeler, Max Mayfield (s4!), Lucas Sinclair (s4!), Chrissy Cunningham, Barbara Holland rip, Jonathan Byers, Eddie Munson + more

Platonic: Everyone above, Max (all seasons), Lucas (all seasons), Will Byers, Dustin Henderson, El Hopper, Erica Sinclair, Joyce Byers, Jim Hopper, Murray Bauman, Alexei Smirnoff, Dmitri 'Enzo' Antonov, Yuri Ismailov,

Won't write: Billy

Ships: Jopper, Lumax, Elmax, Ronance, Robin/Vickie, Steddie

Knowledge: up to season 4, none books

Arcane:

Romantic: Vi, Jinx, Ekko,

Platonic: Everyone above, almost everyone else

Ships: CaitVi

Knowledge: season 1

Avatar: the last air bender

Please include if you want the reader to be a bender (and what kind) or not

R: Zuko, Suki, Sokka, +more

P: Everyone above, the gaang, Iroh,

Ships: Suki/Sokka, Zukka,

Knowledge: All seasons, almost all comics, live action

The legend of Korra:

R/P: Most characters

Won't write: Kuvira

Ships: Korrasami,

Knowledge: All seasons, all comics

The Dragon Prince:

R: Claudia, Rayla, Soren, Corvus

P: Everyone above, Ezran, Callum, Amaya, Harrow, Gren,

Ships: All canon ships, Sorvus

Knowledge: up to season 4

Sherlock Holmes:

BBC:

R/P: Most characters

Ships: Johnlock, Mystrade,

Enola Holmes:

R/P: Enola,

Criminal minds:

R/P: Elle Greenway, Derek Morgan, Emily Prentiss

Knowledge: Watching season 6

Heartstopper:

R/P: Most characters, comic or show.

Won't write: Harry and Ben.

Ships: All canon ships; Imogen x me😍 /hj

Knowledge: Comic: 7-13; show: season 1

The Blacklist:

R: Elizabeth Keen, Donald Ressler, Aram Mojtabai, Alina Park,

P: Everyone above, Harold Cooper, Tom Keen, Raymond Redington, Dembe Zuma, Kate Kaplan, Agnes Keen

Knowledge: Season 9

#star wars x reader #star wars imagine #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #arcane x reader #heartstopper imagine #heartstopper x reader #robin buckley x reader #steve harrington x reader #eddie munson x reader #nancy wheeler x reader #joyce byers x reader #elle greenaway x reader

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mandoalorian · 3 years

Note

hello, lovely. i'm stalking you today but not on purpose. can i pretty please request general - #12 on the prompt list with din djarin? i'm feeling soft today. 🥰 thank you.

Glittering Silver [Din Djarin x Gender Neutral!Reader]

Prompt: “Come back to bed, please.”

Summary: The Mandalorian hasn’t been sleeping much lately, and tonight is the night you find out why.

Warnings: mutual pining, soft fluff/smidge of angst. [Rated T]

Reblogs appreciated because it’s not showing up in tags🤍

It was hard to tell whether or not you were overstepping. You were, after all, only ‘crew’ on the Crest. You weren’t even sure if you could call Din a friend, really. You’d like to think he considered you a friend. You helped with his kid and he occasionally showed you sentiments of gratitude. But, he wasn’t the easiest of people to read.

The past few nights, something had been preying on his mind. Something had been keeping him awake. In the darkness of the hull, you could hear the clattering off his beskar armour as he dropped it to the ground. You usually slept on the floor, with a crocheted blanket that Din purchased especially for you, from a market in the Illenium System. “My pilot chair is a lot more comfortable,” his gruff voice would tell you, every damned night. “Or my bed.”

But you were used to sleeping on the floor; and with the blanket, it truly wasn’t so bad.

Despite it being completely pitch black, you could just about make out the glittering silver that shone by your feet. He’d discarded his plates of armour into a pile and was now wearing only his dark grey sweatshirt and black pants. He was circling around you, his footsteps heavy as he paced back and forth.

“...Din?” you rasped out, rubbing your tired eyes. There was no way of telling just how late it was.

The footsteps suddenly stopped.

“You’re awake.” Din’s voice was sweet like honey, but also, unmodulated. His words came out like a statement, rather than a question, and for a fleeting moment, you thought he sounded panicked.

You didn’t exactly want to tell him how his antics had been keeping you awake these past few nights; or how you were more than aware of his newfound habit of pacing around in anxious circles by your feet.

You knew he wasn’t wearing his helmet and so, out of respect, you closed your eyes again.

“What’s wrong?” you simply asked, tredding lightly on your words. Din was never one to open up or talk about his feelings.

“Can’t sleep.” he responded.

Go figure.

“Why?”

Another pause.

“You can’t be comfortable on the floor,” he huffed, and Maker, he sounded frustrated more than anything else. “Just— come to bed with me, please.”

It’s what he’d been asking of you for weeks now.

Was that really what had been preying on his mind? Your comfort? Surely not. You’d expressed more than enough times you were fine sleeping on the floor.

It’s not that you didn’t want to sleep with Din... you actually really liked the thought of your bodies crushed up together in such a close proximity. You liked the feeling of being snug against his chest and hearing his gentle snores. Maker, you liked him. It’s just, you didn’t want to overstep your boundaries.

“There’s not a chance the two of us will fit in that metal slab you call a bed,” you chuckled softly, dodging his request just like he’d dodged yours. “Why don’t you lay here, on the floor? There’s more than enough room.”

“I can’t.” he replied sadly. His dejected tone only confused you further.

“What do you mean, you can’t?” You padded down the floor next to you with your hand and straightened out your blanket.

“It won’t help.”

Won’t help what, exactly? You stiffened slightly. “I’m not following...”

Din sighed. “It won’t help,” he snapped again, this time his voice even more gruff and angrier than you’d ever heard him before. “You were only meant to be crew. Only meant to help with repairs on the ship and take care of the kid and— that’s it! That’s all you were supposed to be!”

“Din I don’t— I don’t understand—“

“Do you not want to sleep with me, is that it? Because I’d never force you, but just— make it clear. Be clear with me.”

“Is that what this is about?” you quizzed, completely and utterly baffled.

“I— I— agh,” Din kicked the pile of beskar armour, and cursed in a language you could only assume was Mando’a. “I have feelings for you!” He shouted, his voice bouncing off the walls in the dead of night. “And I shouldn’t! I know I shouldn’t. But listen, you always look so pretty when you’re fixing up the engine and you have grease on your cheeks and oil splatters on your clothes, and your hair is sticking up in random directions. When I see you holding Grogu, my heart melts. And I feel bad for him because he loves you so much. He’ll be broken when you eventually leave. Because everyone always leaves eventually.”

Sometime during his outburst, you had stood up and tried to make your way over to him, your eyes still shut. Your arms were extended, trying your hardest to feel the way. Your stomach burst into butterflies when Din grabbed onto your hands and steadied you.

“Who says that I want to leave?” you sniffed, feeling completely and utterly full by his revelation. “I— I have feelings for you too.”

Din made a exasperated sound and dropped one of your hands. “No,” he muttered. “You haven’t even seen my face. How can you have feelings for me? You won’t even sleep with me.”

You let go off his hands and reached up, cupping his face. In the darkness, you could feel the brassiness of his stubble and the sharpness of his jaw. No, you couldn’t see his face, and you were fine with that, but there was something so special about him letting you touch you this way. It was an intimacy you’d never experienced before.

“Come back to bed, please.” you whispered.

“I don’t want to lose you.” Din croaked, trying to fight back tears.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you promised, softly shushing the bounty hunter. “Come back to bed with me. Let me hold you.”

He did, eventually, without any further protest.

Knowing he was comfortable in his own bed, you slipped in next to him. There was no need for any more fighting or arguing when you both felt the same way about each other. Your mind was racing a million miles an hour, in complete disbelief that he actually liked you back. It felt like a dream you were unable to even fathom.

It was cozy at least, your warm bodies pressed against each other just like you’d imagined. You wrapped a tired arm around Din’s torso and shuffled into his chest.

“I do have feelings for you, Din,” you admitted. “I have for a long time. I didn’t want to sleep with you because I was scared.”

“Scared of me?” Din asked.

“No,” you replied. “Scared of what it might do to us. I didn’t know where we stood.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

You smiled to yourself and reached down to hold his hand. “I’m just glad I know now.”

———————————————————

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#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #pedro pascal x you #jose pedro balmaceda pascal

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moralesispunk · 3 years

Text

Standing up for their daughter

For Frankie Morales, Din Djarin, Marcus Moreno, Pero Tovar and Marcus Pike

x Female Reader (established relationship with child)

based on this post I made the other day (it was quite long so I did it with fewer characters but if you want me to do another with others then I can do a part II!)

Frankie

You were at work when Frankie got the call into school because your daughter had been “violent” with another pupil. Frankie’s head was racing the whole drive there, wondering what had happened and hoping his baby girl was okay but ready to give her into trouble if need be. When he walked into the principals office, she were sitting on one of the chairs in front of the desk, an empty one next to her for him. She started to talk but he silently told her to wait, looking to the principal and asking what had happened.

“Your daughter pushed Alexander over in the playground today. The poor boy has cut all down his leg.”

Frankie looked at his little girl, waiting for an explanation to this from his usually quiet and peaceful daughter.

“He was pulling my hair dad! He chased me around the playground and didn’t stop pulling my hair even though I asked him to stop!”

Frankie was angry but managed to keep it inside as he turned back around to the principal.

“And what is happening to Alexander?”

“Well, he is fine the nurse had a look at-”

“No. What punishment is he receiving for tormenting my daughter?”

“You know what boys are like, he was just teasing her. Probably means he likes her. There was no need for your daughter to get that violent with him.”

“I am going to take my daughter out of school for the rest of the day and my wife can come back and talk to you tomorrow because I don’t trust my temper right now,” Frankie said calmly, “that boy needs punished for the way he treated my daughter and she should not be punished for defending herself. I suggest you have a think about that before you talk to the boys parents and before you try and give my daughter into trouble again. Let’s go, honey.”

Frankie took your daughter’s hand, walking with her out of the office. On the way the by the boy and his parents Frankie hands his daughter the keys to his truck and tells her he’ll be there soon. When she is out of sight he turns to the parents, telling them teach your boy some manners, my daughter expects a full apology before walking off again. He takes her out for ice cream, telling her that while he doesn’t condone violence she was right not to let him continue to act like that. That night the boy and his parents arrive at the door, a full apology given from him to your wee girl.

Din

Your youngest daughter came and found Din, saying the oldest had been in a fight with one of the boys in the covert. Din took her hand, letting her lead the way to the circle of children that had formed. A boy he had recognised from around the covert was lying on the ground, his daughter standing over him with her arms crossed.

"Alright, enough,” Din walked through the sea of tiny bodies that started to run off in different directions when he arrived, “what happened?”

Just as Din placed his hands on his hips, waiting for an explanation, the boys father arrived.

“He kept pinching me, he wouldn’t stop and so I made him stop,” your oldest daughter shrugged.

“Ah, he was just teasing,” the other Mando helped his son up.

“He wasn’t teasing!” you daughter sighed, exasperated.

Din turned his helmet to his daughter, warning her to stay quiet as he dealt with the situation.

“He must have a liking for your girl, Mando! You remember what it was like,” the other man reached over and placed a hand on Din’s shoulder.

“No. Teach your son some manners or I’ll teach my daughter to hit him back harder next time,” Din said simply, his hand still holding onto the hand of your youngest and the other reaching our for your oldest.

The man and his son stared silently as Din walked off with his two girls, waiting until they were round the corner to ruffle your oldest hair.

“I think I hurt my hand when I punched him,” your daughter shook the pain out.

“Well I guess we better take tomorrow to perfect your punch,” he said, the smile in his voice clear.

Marcus M

When he gets a phone call at work from Missy’s school his mind is in instant panic mode and that panic doesn’t settle by much when he is told by Missy’s teacher that she punched a boy. Marcus excuses himself from work and heads straight to the school, walking straight to the principals office. Missy is sitting in the corner on a chair, obviously upset and next to a boy holding an ice pack to his face, with the parent’s mother and the principal watching him as he walks in.

“Thank you for coming Mr Moreno. I’m sure you are as surprised as we are with this, Missy is usually a very quiet but polite girl,” the principal began.

Marcus nodded, waiting for him to continue.

“Missy will be suspended of course, for this unprovoked attack on another student, and will be expected to write an essay on her actions.”

“Is this true Missy?” Marcus turned and looked at his daughter.

“I did punch him yes,” Missy began and Marcus sighed, “but only because he kept pulling my hair in class and pinching my arm. I told him to stop and he didn’t. I told my teacher and she said to ignore him but he kept doing it. I told him if he did it again I would punch him. He did and so I punched him.”

Marcus kept his face straight and stern, something he had learned from Heroic training and turned back to the principal.

“Well, from what I see, Missy gave him fair warning,” Marcus kept his tone neutral.

“Mr Moreno,” the principal sighed.

“She hit my son!” the woman next to him screeched.

“And your son pulled my daughter’s hair and pinched her,” Marcus raised his eyebrow, “I am not happy with my daughter raising her hands in a classroom and we will have a talk, but unless this boy is also being suspended and writing an essay on his actions and his mother is prepared to talk with him about his disgusting manners then Missy will be in school, 9am sharp tomorrow.”

The principal and mother stared at Marcus mouth agape for a moment before nodding.

“They can both be in school tomorrow,” the principal sighed.

“And I am prepared to come in and teach the young boys of this school a lesson on what no means, as it seems the school and parents are not teaching them an important lesson. Let’s go Missy,” Marcus stood and waited for Missy to follow him out.

And that is exactly what Marcus did. Missy was at school the next day, head held high after the both of you made her feel better about the situation, and two days later Marcus gave a lesson to the whole school on no means no.

Pero

Pero took your and his baby girl with him to the market to give you some much needed alone time. As he wandered around the stalls he had his large hand wrapped around her small one to keep her close, ruffling her hair and sending funny faces her way whenever they had to queue for meat or vegetables. When he turned to face the butcher to pay him with coins, he heard a fuss behind him but ignored it until his baby girl yelped and there was a thud on the ground.

His head whizzed around and he seen his little girl holding onto the back of his tunic and a boy a little bigger than her on the ground.

“She pushed me!” the little boy whined.

“He pulled my hair first!” your baby girl explained.

“Sounds like you learned your lesson, don’t annoy little girls or they’ll hit back,” Pero chuckled at the boy, lifting the meat he had just bought from the counter and walking with his little girl in his hand away from the stall, “very good, my love.”

Marcus P

Marcus was always a favourite with the mums at birthday parties and you always joked you shouldn’t send him alone. This week there was a birthday party of another girl in your daughters class and since you had a day out with your friends planned, Marcus would take her. When he showed up, the back-garden was full of children screaming and bouncing on the bouncy castle, all the mums and one other dad standing about the kitchen.

He was talking to the other dad when all the parents attentions were grabbed by a yelp coming from the bouncy castle. One of the wee boys was sitting in the middle, looking up at your daughter as everyone else jumped up and down.

Marcus and the other man left the kitchen, walking over to see what was going on.

“She pushed me down!” the boy shouted to his dad.

“He kept pulling on my hair!”

The man next to Marcus chuckled and Marcus shot him a glare as he lifted his daughter from the bouncy castle.

“Looks like someone has a crush.”

“Looks like someone needs to be taught some manners,” Marcus shot back, carrying his daughter into the kitchen for a drink leaving the other man and his son staring as they walked away.

If the rest of the mums didn’t find your husband attractive before then they sure did now, all of them saying a chorus of someone had to tell him, and he lets his son get away with that with all our daughters but we never knew what to say. After this catch Marcus having a strong one-on-one chat with the man later telling him to teach his son not to bother little girls like that or he will become a dangerous young man.

Permanent tag list // @phoenixhalliwell @asta-lily @hb8301 @princess76179 @sarahjkl82-blog @spideysimpossiblegirl @blackmarketmummy @bison-writes @dihra-vesa @evyiione

#frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader #marcus moreno x you #din djarin x you #marcus moreno x reader #din djarin x reader #pero tovar x you #pero tovar x reader #marcus pike x you #marcus pike x reader #frankie catfish morales x reader #frankie catfish morales x you #headcannon #oneshot

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themand0lorian · 3 years

Text

Shev’la

Summary: After an accident, you struggle to come to terms with the silence of the Mandalorian.

Pairing: Din Djarin x deaf!Reader (no Y/N)

Rating: E

Words: 4464

Tags: Slow Burn! Fluff! Mild canon typical violence! Doctors! Deafness/HOH!

Notes: reader is gender neutral other than mention of hair long enough to push back! this is based on my limited experience of being HOH (hard of hearing), so things may be wrong/off based on your personal experience! Also obviously made things space-ey for Star Wars so not everything will be accurate. Listen, your girl just wants to see some differently-abled representation in the franchise!

Shev’la means “Silent” in Mando’a! I did my best to indicate when dialogue is verbal vs. sign, but if there’s a better way to indicate that let me know!

Your mind was racing as fast as your feet as you struggled to get away from the Klatooinians; a bounty gone wrong, you had thought, head on a swivel. You kept running, trying to out maneuver them, but you were unfamiliar with the small town you and Mando had landed in just hours beforehand. You wanted to get them away, to a spot where you knew Mando would find you, but when you turned a corner expecting a town square, instead you were met with a dead end. Panicked, you turned, facing right into two of the men who grabbed you roughly. You struggled against their grip as you heard familiar footsteps crunch through the grass, letting out a breath.

“You’re gonna be sorry,” you taunted. One of the men grunted at the other in response, letting you go as Mando came into view to fight the armored warrior. You looked up at him, too, distracted by his helmet shining in the sun as he stood over the man, blaster in hand. The distraction, unfortunately, became your weakness; the Klatooinian holding you twisted you quickly, smacking your head against the wall of the alley, hard. You thought Mando called your name, but your brain went to static, swimming with blood and fear as you collapsed.

In true Mando fashion, he killed both the men on sight, leaving their bodies as he kneeled next to you, shakily calling your name. You weren’t responding. He quickly scooped you up, holding your bleeding head to his shoulder and walked your limp body back to the Razor Crest, whispering to you as you went, trying to get any reaction he could. When he turned to look at you, the blood around your face stirred the emotion in his gut, but what he saw next felt more like a punch to the ribs. Your implants, the ones that you use to hear, had been smashed to bits; hanging limply from your hair, bouncing as he walked.

Mando didn’t know much about your deafness, by your own design. He knew you were deaf, and the implants allowed you to hear. If anything, they allowed you to hear better than he could, a sense he was often thankful for, so he really never paid them much mind. He would occasionally watch you change the batteries or fiddle with them behind your ears, but other than that you had never really mentioned anything about them, and he was a man of few words anyway. If anything, you brought his voice out with your own, filling the ship with your laughter and babblings to the kid, and your sweet and curious tone with him.

Mando laid you on the cot in the ship, repeating your name over and over, but you weren’t stirring. Torn, he hastily jumped up to the cockpit, sending the ship into hyperspace and away from this planet before your attacker’s friends could find you, and quickly returned to your side once the ship was stable. He gently cleaned the wound on your head, much smaller than he originally thought, which he was thankful for; until he realized the implants had taken the brunt of the beating. He disconnected them from you slowly, gently weaving them out of your hair. They were smashed to bits. Likely irreparable, but medical technology wasn’t exactly his expertise. He laid them on the small counter next to the cot, turning his attention back to you as he stroked your cheek with his gloved hand.

You awoke to his touch with a start, like a jolt of electricity ran through you. Panicked at the still silence, you swung your head violently until it landed on Mando.

“Mando,” you breathed out, a new wave of panic settling over you at the sudden realization-you couldn’t hear your own voice. Your eyes widened, and he reached out to your hand, taking it in his. You could see his chest moving, his head tilting like he was asking you something, but all you could hear was your own thoughts. Tears sprung to your eyes as you looked at the nightstand, crushed implants sitting idly. You absently reached up to your own head, brushing where they should be, before looking at him again tearfully.

“Din, I…I don’t know if you’re saying something, but if you are I can’t hear you. Without the implants, I can’t hear at all,” you said, your voice contorting. It sounded foreign to Mando, like someone else’s had inhabited your body as you continued to stumble over words. “If I can’t hear my own voice, it’s hard for me to speak. I…I can read lips…” you started, stopping in your tracks when you remembered the lipless visor staring back at you. “And I know Galactic Sign Language. Do you?”

Mando started to answer, but caught himself, shaking his head instead as he barely separated his fingers. A little. You whimpered. “I…I need to get these fixed,” you whispered, reaching for the broken electronics. He stopped you with his hands before getting up and walking around the hull, turning over a few crates. It felt like you were suspended under water, being unable to hear the noises associated with his actions. You tried your hardest to think of them when he approached again, a datapad you didn’t know existed in his hand. He quickly booted it up and tapped around before turning it to you.

“We had to go. We will get them fixed as soon as we land,” he had typed out. You took the pad from him, typing your own message underneath.

“We need to go to Tatooine, I got them there,” you typed slowly as he read over your shoulder. He turned to you, and typed as you held the pad.

“Tatooine then. Get some rest.”

You nodded, seemingly sealed into your silent fate for some time. You groaned as you turned over in the cot, still unused to not hearing your own voice. Mando stayed seated next to you, typing away on the datapad, but without seeing him there, you could have been alone for all you knew. You weren’t sure what you and Mando were; more than crewmates, less than romantic interests, if not for lack of trying. You would leave a small meal in the cockpit when he would return, weary from a hunt. He would watch your figure as you moved about the ship, tending to the child, stolen glances behind the helmet. You both would share passing touches, a hand on his shoulder, one around your waist as you moved about the cramped ship. He had even shared his real name, butterflies in his stomach as you repeated it back to him. Still, a man of few words, he never really told you how he felt, and you had never asked.

As sleep seemed to overtake you, Mando typed “Galactic Sign Language” into the data pad, determination across his features to learn more of the language. His face fell when he read about it; it relied heavily on facial movements and lip readings for context, in conjunction with hand motions for words. Hand motions he could do, but with the helmet…facial expressions were out of the question. You seemed to know that too, faltering when you mentioned reading lips. He started to sigh, stopping himself when he observed you sleeping form, before thinking They can’t hear you, you idiot. You’re gonna make this harder than it has to be.

When you woke in the morning, Mando was still sitting at your side, datapad falling out of his hand and helmet tilted toward his shoulder. You smiled at his sleeping form, reaching to pull the datapad from his fingers so he could rest more. Your fingers slid across a button, starting a video he had been watching, sound turned on, but you didn’t know, leaving it playing at his side. He startled awake instantly, looking at your confused face.

“Sound on,” he signed timidly. Your eyes widened, snatching the datapad again to pause the video, when you saw the title. Galactic Sign Language Basics. You couldn’t help but let a smile brush your features as you looked back at him.

“What did you learn?” your fingers seemed to dance over the signs, slipping back into old habits easily. He tilted his head at you, and your lips pursed, typing the question in the datapad instead.

“Clearly not much,” he typed back as you read it over his shoulder, a small chuckle escaping your lips. It was getting harder to remember what your own voice, your own laugh sounded like after sleep. You seemed to get lost as you tried to focus on it, until his hands danced over the keyboard once again. “We’re almost to Tatooine. Let’s go up.”

You nodded, following him up to the cockpit. The baby had followed on your heels, keeping himself busy with his metal ball as he climbed in your lap and Mando tapped at the buttons on the Crest. You barely acknowledged the child, opting to look out at the stars instead. Mando turned to you to find Grogu in your lap, cooing up at your face in confusion as you paid him no mind.

“They can’t hear you, kid,” Mando sighed, looking to your face to see that you were still looking out at the stars. Grogu cried out louder, and Mando tilted his helmet at him in warning, waving for your attention.

“Grogu is talking to you,” he gestured, and you smiled as his hands danced over the baby’s name, spelling it out.

“Talking?” you repeated, contorting your face in confusion.

“Not talking…cooing,” he fumbled over the last word, unsure what motion to use. The confusion stayed on your face so he tried again. “Yelling. Small yelling,” he tried, using the few words he knew. You started to chuckle.

“Cooing,” you questioned, showing him the hand signal again.

“Cooing,” he repeated it back to you, struggling to separate his fingers fully under the gloves. You smiled down at the child, signing to him quickly. Mando picked up a few words; sorry, sweet boy, no talking. His heart broke as the child seemed to understand quickly, snuggling into your chest quietly. Mando turned back to the front of the ship, focused on the path ahead, until you tapped on the back of the chair. He turned to face you again.

“I need a sign for your names,” you gestured, boring your eyes into his. He nodded as you pointed to the sleeping infant, bringing both your hands up to your head and splaying them like his large ears. You couldn’t hear it, but you think Mando may have laughed as he nodded, his chest shaking. You smiled, pointing at him. You held both your hands to your face, making each one into an “D,” as you covered it, trying to indicate his helmet. He nodded again, seeming to accept your sign for him.

“What about you?” he signed back. You shrugged.

“You can pick. I don’t use my own name,” you replied. Mando looked at you behind the mask, really studying your face, like it would come to him from your eyes. Finally, after a long pause, he brought his hands up to his face, putting his thumb on his chin and wiping over his face and closing his fist. A laugh left your lips as heat rose to your cheeks. Pretty.

“It can’t be a word that already exists, Din,” you signed, using his new name sign. His shoulders fell as you continued, “Thank you, though.”

He seemed to think longer this time, trying to access the deep recesses of his mind. He took four fingers, drawing them around his helmet in a circle, stopping at his chin in a wave. You smiled.

“What does that one mean?” you signed.

“Old Mando sign,” he replied, using his own name sign in place of Mandalorian. You simply nodded, satisfied at your new form of communication.

////

It wasn’t long before you found yourself in the familiar doctor’s office in Tatooine. Mando had insisted on coming in with you, just in case, but you could sense his nerves matched your own. You handed the broken implants to the medical droid limply, who buzzed away with them as you waited.

When the doctor, an older man with greying hair, returned, you were sitting on the floor with Grogu, playing with assorted medical supplies you had found in the cabinets as he giggled. You laughed too, your face turning when Mando sat up straighter at the doctor’s entrance. You smile immediately fell when he looked at you grimly, starting to sign. Mando watched between you both, signing too quickly for him to keep up, until tears started to spring to your eyes.

“What did you say to them?” he said to the doctor gruffly, standing up to unfold to his full height.

“I…I can’t fix them,” the doctor stated, startled at Mando’s sudden aggression.

“You have to fix them. They can’t hear,” he said as if it wasn’t obvious.

“I know, I can’t though. The Clone Wars, looters took everything. All my technology. They need new ones completely, and I can’t make them anymore,” the doctor rambled. Mando looked to you as you struggled to keep composure, reading the man’s lips as he spoke. You simply signed thank you, quickly grabbing the broken implants and walking out of the office, into the beating suns. Mando followed quietly, swooping up the child as he left. You walked all the way to the Crest without looking back, knowing Mando was on your heels despite not hearing him.

Entering the ship, you slammed the earpieces down on the table, small mechanisms falling to the floor, finally letting your emotions overtake you. Tears started to fall as you stared at them, trying to will them to work with your mind. A tentative hand brushed at your shoulder, causing you to look up at the masked man.

“We will figure it out,” he signed slowly, taking care with each word to get it right.

“I can’t afford new ones,” you signed back, looking at your hands instead of his face. He brought the hand on your shoulder to your chin, pushing it back up so you faced him.

“If you want new ones, we will get new ones. I have one more fob,” he paused, spelling the last word and gesturing to his belt at the blinking tracker. The child was also at his hip, looking between you from the satchel. You looked at the fob, the steady blinking light, then back up to his face. Your brow was furrowed like you were thinking about it, but without warning, you flew into his arms, wrapping yourself around his neck. He tentatively brushed his hands on your hips as you leaned into his chestplate.

“Thank you,” you murmured aloud. You were losing the sound of your consonants as you went longer without speaking, but Mando didn’t mind. He pulled you back from him to sign in front of your face. You’re welcome.

////

Din usually liked silence, before you that was all there was. Like a quiet song; strong, focused silence, the creaks of the ship and air vents blowing behind him. But without your voice, the melody felt empty. Like the most important noise of all was missing from the universe. The only sounds in the ship were the child’s soft snores as he slept, resting in the copilot’s seat next to him so you could get some rest in the hull. You had landed on Naboo almost three days ago now, but Mando hadn’t returned with a bounty yet. In fact, he barely left the ship, watching over noiselessly as you taught the baby signs, adapted for his fewer fingers. More, food, and ball seemed to be the child’s favorites so far. You tried not to get in the way, worried Din was rethinking his offer for the implants now that he saw the work he would need to put in.

At the thought of him, you tossed over in your cot. You couldn’t sleep, the sound of silence screaming in your ears until it was too much. Instead, you gently got up and padded through the hull of the ship, hoping Mando wouldn’t hear you awake. He had insisted you rest before going up to the cockpit, but your own thoughts were swimming, like without the ambient noise they had increased 100-fold. You pushed the key code to the hatch quickly, hoping the sound of it lowering wouldn’t alert him, allowing the breeze to brush over your features. The night air was cool, sweeping the incessant thoughts from your mind as you sat on the hatch, knees to your chest. You wondered what kind of wildlife lived on the planet as your hands started to play in the grass at your feet. You tried to picture the noises, the ones you would associate with a lush landscape; leaves rustling, frogs croaking, but they all seemed fake and far away, lost to time.

Instead, you tried to focus on ones you had memorized, the sound the Child would make as he enjoyed his dinner, his quiet coos as he slept. Din’s soft snores when he fell asleep in the cockpit, his gruff voice through the modulator, the sound of his laugh. It felt like they all were transient, leaving your mind as soon as they came, slipping through your fingers. You couldn’t remember what your name sounded like when it left his lips. How he sounded when he scolded the kid for getting into trouble, how he would sigh dramatically when faced with any conflict. Tears started falling down your cheeks as you closed your eyes tightly, desperate to find the sounds deep in your brain.

You startled when a bare hand grasped your shoulder, jumping out of your skin and turning to see an un-armored Din sit down next to you gently. You looked away, trying to hide your tears, but he grabbed your chin with his fingers and brought it back to him. You looked at the T of his visor, hoping for some kind of miracle where his modulated voice would break the silence you heard, but instead your attention was brought to his moving hands.

“Why are you out here?”

“No sleep,” you signed back.

“Why? Worried?” he replied clunkily, and you nodded. “We will get new ones,” he assured you.

“Not the implants,” you signed back with a deep sigh. “I…can’t remember your voice. What you sound like,” you said sadly, fresh tears falling again. He looked at you, no motion in his fingers, so you continued. “What if I…never hear your voice again? Ship very quiet. Scared,” you articulated quickly, not able to form the sentences you wanted to with the limited motions. You watched his chest rise and fall deeply before you lifted your hands again. “Sorry. Never mind.”

Embarrassment rose to the tips of your ears, blood rising in your face as you turned away to look back at the landscape; you had rarely been so vulnerable. You continued to stare out at the billowing grass as another breeze blew by, closing your eyes to feel it on your face. In the same moment, you were enveloped in Mando’s arms, and he pulled your head close to his chest, holding it there with his hands. You didn’t have the courage to open your eyes as his chest rumbled below you, sending vibrations through your scalp as it moved.

“You cannot hear me. But I…love you. I can’t…tell you. But I hope you feel it,” he said quietly through the modulator, his voice raspy from the lack of use. He pulled your head away from him and held it as you looked back at him before you signed again.

“Were you talking?” you gestured quickly and he nodded. “What did you say?”

“Did you like it?” he asked with his hands, ignoring your question.

“Yes. Like I could hear you again,” you signed back, nodding. “Comforting.” He pulled your head to his chest again, holding his hands in front of your eyes as he left it there.

“I will never stop talking if it brings you comfort,” he said and signed in tandem. You sighed into his chest, holding his hands in yours and kissing his bare knuckles in thanks. The two of you sat under the moonlight as his chest continued to rumble, vibrating your body at what felt like a new frequency.

Mando was nothing if not an honest man. Every time he saw you, he would pull you to his chest, allowing you to feel his words as he said them, then wait for your reaction. Sometimes he would translate, especially if you asked him to, but most of the time he seemed to just be filling the silence with whatever came to mind. He knew it worked better without the armor, so he would leave his chestplate off on the ship, ready to hold you there at a moment’s notice. When the armor was on, he would snake your hand under the cool metal, pressing it flat against him as he spoke. It felt like he sent a shock through your fingertips each time.

He still stumbled over the movements and phrasing for GSL, but you noticed he was improving. One of the many things he had told you, that you didn’t ask for a translation on, was that he had been practicing. He would wait for you to go to sleep, pulling the datapad out and looking up new signs as he formed his hands to an empty ship. He even would turn down the sound on his helmet, trying to live in a world like yours. He would then make sure to use the new words the next day, smiling when your face twisted in confusion at his new vocabulary.

You had your favorites, just like when you could hear his voice through the hull; the way his hands moved when he did your name sign, the shake of his body when he laughed, the staccato vibration when he called for the baby. At some point you started to notice a pattern. Like he was saying the same thing to you, every time he held your head there. You didn’t know what he was saying, but one night, when you had crawled into his bed, overwhelmed by the silence and tears brimming at your lashes, he held you there and said it over and over again, like a prayer until you fall asleep across his chest. He had never been a man of words, but he couldn’t stop. When he ran out of stories he would hum softly, filling your body with the vibrations as you slept gently, desperate to help you find peace.

After a full week, Mando ventured out of the ship and into the city. “I’ll be right back,” he had said, holding your hand over his heart as he spoke, then signing it to you in tandem. You nodded, pulling your hand away and responding through sign.

“Please lock everything when you leave,” you gestured nervously and his chest shook as he laughed.

“You are safe,” he signed back. “I will.” He said one more thing aloud, that same familiar pattern, but didn’t translate as he left.

The sun was barely setting when Mando strolled back up to the ship, no quarry in sight. You had been keeping busy in the hull, organizing some random crates as the child slept in his hammock, when you saw the hatch start to lower. Your face twisted in confusion at his empty handedness as you stood to face him.

“No quarry?” you gestured as a question.

“No. Something better,” he signed, reaching around to the pouch on his belt. You could practically feel his excitement as he pulled out a velvet cloth bag, cinched at the top, and placed it gently in your hands. “Open it.”

You opened it slowly, unsure what would be inside. When you dumped it into your hands, two small, curved pieces of metal fell out, wires attached. They were smaller than your previous ones, sleek silver, but you couldn’t deny what they were-new implants. You looked up at Mando wide-eyed.

“Let me,” he signed, taking them from your hands. He gently brushed your hair behind your ear, plugging the attached wire to the port implanted in your head. He walked around to the other side, repeating the motion. You looked into his mask as he held you there, his hand on the back of your skull, and he shifted one delicately between his fingers.

All at once, everything came rushing back, every groan of the ship, the child’s quiet slumber, the creaky cabinet that wouldn’t stay shut. You looked around, amazed at all the things you had been missing, when a soft, deep voice brought you back to center.

“Can you hear me?” Mando asked tentatively, his head tilting when you failed to respond immediately. Slowly, you nodded, still in shock over the new sounds. “They’re beskar. They’ll never break again,” he breathed, getting closer to you as he spoke.

“I…What? I can’t…take these…” you stumbled over your words, your voice hoarse from disuse and emotion.

“They’re…a gift,” he said softly, and you swore you were hearing the unfiltered voice from below the helmet. You still stood frozen in place, head swirling.

“Why do you sound different than I remember?” you asked sadly, putting your hand on his chestplate, hoping the familiar rumble would ground you.

“They’re connected to my microphone. No modulator,” he said softly, grabbing your wrist and putting it under the armor. You looked up at him, unbelievably surprised at his actions.

“But your creed? Why would you do that?” you asked, your hand still across his chest. You could hear him sigh in apprehension, a new clarity to his sound you had never experienced.

“I love you,” he said, his chest repeating the familiar rumble of the past few days. You tried to pull away in surprise but he held your hand there. “I wanted you to…hear it from me.” You nodded, tears springing to your waterline.

“Din…I…Maker, I love you too,” you sighed softly, overwhelmed by the new information. He had been telling you over and over and you never knew. He let your hand fall away from his chest as he pulled you closer to him in a tight embrace. You both stood there quietly as you tried to calm your mind, grounded in his touch, surrounded by new sounds. But your favorite was the unfiltered voice directed straight into your ears, whispering his love to you as if you would never be in silence again.

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jessie-writes-things · 3 years

Text

Coffee: Din Djarin

Did I rehash the same idea from the King Arthur mini? Yes. But I still find the concept funny so it's fine! 😅

Pairing: Din Djarin x Neutral Reader (can be read as platonic or romantic. Mostly focusing on Din and Grogu)

Words: 300

Genre: Comedy. Fluff. Generic.

Warnings: None but a few curses.

Summary: Grogu go burrrrr

This weeks minis masterlist

‘Did you give the child his soup?’

‘Yes. Why?’

‘Because the soup smells a lot like coffee.’

To any other people Mando would have been emotionless, but you knew him well enough at this point. The Mandalorian went incredibly still, back straight, and stone cold. Nothing too out of the usual, until you noticed the small twitch of his finger.

His word was illegible, a soft whoosh of air amplified from his modulator which you assumed was a curse in a language you didn’t quite understand.

He refused to move for a good while, not wanting to admit to his wrongdoings. Normally, he was alert, perspective. The Mandalorian wouldn’t make such a foolish mistake and a simple foolish mistake at that.

But he hadn’t been sleeping well lately. Between smuggling the child from the entire fucking empire and sourcing out enough jobs to sustain enough food for the tiny being that ate everything, it was hard to find a moment of rest.

He knew he had to face the consequences at some point. Sooner was better than later. But even as he turned in his seat, very, very slowly, he felt his stomach drop, pulse racing. It was obscene. Stupid. Idiotic. He was raised in a legion of some of the greatest bounty hunters in the galaxy. He had fought creatures and people others wouldn’t bear.

And yet he was scared of a hyped-up little womp rat, buzzed because of his own doing?

Fucking idiotic.

Still, the logic did nothing to help his situation. As soon as he laid eyes on his little green son, bright eyes blown wide, jittering with his newfound energy as the child reached out to him with a tiny shaky hand, Mando knew he was in some deep shit.

And you just passed off the child, shit-eating grin smacked on your face. You did feel bad for him, a little, but you had to admit the situation was fucking hilarious, ‘Good luck.’

#din djarin #din dijarin fluff #din djarin x reader #the mandarin #the mandalorian fluff #grogu #jessie writes #weekly minis #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal fluff

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amberatkinzz · 3 years

Text

Under the Moonlight

The Mandalorian/Din Djarin x gender neutral reader

Summary: After a long night at the cantina, you wander off to spend some time alone. Your Mandalorian soon joins you, and the two of you share your first kiss under the light of the full moon.

Warnings: Din Djarin being an absolute softy for his S/O (might cause your heart to ache)

Word count: 1.8k

Author’s Note: This piece was inspired by “My Tears Are Becoming a Sea” by M83 (I HIGHLY recommend listening to it, it is such a beautiful song!) I hope y’all enjoy it! (Also, I’m very glad to be back to writing now that school is done!)

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A soft sigh left your lips as the wind caressed your skin. It swirled around you, leaving small goosebumps in its trail. It scampered up your arms and brushed your neck, tickling you ever so slightly. You shut your eyes and partially leaned forward, relishing in the cool night breeze. With your sight momentarily taken away, your other senses seemed enhanced. Your ears focused on the leaves rustling on the large trees overhead, ignoring the distant music that played in the cantina a few blocks away. Your nose twitched, taking in the smell of the dozens of flowers that bloomed in the field below.

You leaned back, putting your hands behind you as you tilted your face towards the sky. You opened your eyes to be met with a sky full of stars, each one glistening in its own unique way. The moon on this planet was abnormally huge, illuminating the area as if it were day. But it was stunning—beautiful, even—and you couldn’t bring yourself to despise its blinding light, even if just a little. You were content; the rooftop you sat upon seemed to bring you peace in the form of relaxation. Your mind wandered for a moment, picturing Din sitting stiffly in the cantina with the child. His helmet would be scanning the room as the kid eats. One of his hands would be placed on the table while the other hovered close to his blaster. He’s probably getting anxious, wondering where you went. His shoulders will start to get tense once he starts worrying about your safety. It won’t be long until he comes to find you.

It wasn’t too long ago when he finally admitted that he loved you. For a little over a year he had constantly denied it, making up excuses for why his helmet was always tilted in your direction. As time went on and the two of you grew closer, it was getting harder and harder for him to deny it; he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you. You smiled a little as you realized that you’ve fallen in love with a man whose face you’ve never seen. Then again, that’s probably the reason you were drawn to him in the first place.

You were startled out of your dazed state when you heard heavy footsteps approaching beside the building. Your heart started racing, your hand instinctively reaching for your blaster as your eyes searched for the best exit. Your brain ached as it tried to remember the fastest route back to the cantina, back to Din. You raised your blaster as the footsteps grew closer, your hands beginning to slightly shake.

“It’s okay, [Y/n]. It’s just me.” You let out a big sigh of relief, standing to meet Din as he climbed onto the roof. The moon shone brightly off of his Beskar, illuminating his broad shoulders as he looked at you. His hand quickly gestured towards you, pointing at your blaster. “Sorry I scared you.”

You shook your head as you put your blaster back in it’s holster. “Where’s the kid?”

“Left him with Fett. I’m...sure he’ll be fine.”

You rolled your eyes. “Fett? The man is going to get him drunk.”

He took a few paces towards the middle of the roof and sat down with a grunt. “Please don’t say that, it took me long enough to trust him to even touch the kid.”

You huffed as you sat down and leaned against him. Din reached over, trying to take the pauldron off of his shoulder. “Fine, I will stop mentioning all of the crazy things that Fett could be teaching our kid right now.”

Din froze, his hand slightly hovering over his discarded pauldron and his helmet tilted towards you. “Our kid?”

You looked into his visor, and for a second you thought you could see a glimpse of his eyes in the moonlight. “Umm, yeah?” You chuckled awkwardly.

“You’ve...never said it like that before,” you could practically hear the smile in his voice. “I like it.”

You could feel your face heat up as you gave him a shy smile. With his pauldron placed on the roof, you rested your head on his shoulder and let your eyes slip shut. The two of you sat in comfortable silence for what felt like hours, but the same song was playing in the cantina when Din spoke up again.

“Please look at me, darling.” Your heart skipped a beat at the sound of his deep, soft voice calling you that name. You turned to look at him, his body already turned to face you. Suddenly nervous, your eyes wandered, refusing to make eye contact with him. That is, until he brought his gloved hand to your face and rubbed his thumb over your cheek. “I love the way your eyes glisten in the moonlight,” he lets out a deep sigh, clearing his throat. “There’s nothing I want more than to see your face without this helmet being in the way.”

“There has to be some way, right?” He withdrew his hand from your face, bringing it down to his lap. His helmet dipped low in a defeated manner as his fingers played with each other.

He sat in deep thought for a moment before letting out a small gasp. “You could close your eyes?” He was uncertain, almost afraid.

“Din! Aren’t you worried that I might see your face?”

“I trust you.”

“Maybe this isn’t a good idea.”

“Please?” Your eyes widened in surprise. For all of the time you had known Din, you had never heard him sound so desperate. You were interested now, wondering what he could be planning as you let your eyelids fall shut.

You could hear shuffling for a moment, followed by a brief silence. You gasped when you felt his gloveless hand lightly caress your cheek, his thumb lightly touching your lips. He shuffled again, followed by a soft click and the sound of Beskar tapping the rooftop. You heard his breath catch in his throat, followed by a small gasp.

“You’re so amazing...so perfect,” his fingers traced your lips. “How could someone like you love a man like me?”

“You must not know yourself very well to think you’re not worth loving.”

His fingers trailed down to your chin, slightly tilting your head up. He leaned closer, his nose softly brushing against yours. “You mean so much to me, you know that?”

Your heart was pounding, ready to explode out of your chest. Before you knew it, his lips were on yours. His lips were soft and plump, constantly protected from the harsh outside conditions due to his helmet. It was short, tentative, unsure. He pulled away after a few seconds, your body subconsciously leaning towards him, trying to find his lips again.

“I...w-was that okay? I’m sorry, I should have asked before—”

“Yes, Din. It was perfect.” It was hard for you to keep your eyes closed. You wanted to open them, just for a second, to get a glimpse of his face. You wanted to see his lips slightly parted, his cheeks burning a hot red. You wanted to see how his eyes kept focusing on your lips despite how hard they tried not to.

You tentatively reached out with your hand, your fingers coming into contact with his nose. His soft chuckle brought a new warmth to your heart; you wish you could hear it more. You slowly made your way around his face, using your fingers to map out the details in a bold attempt to keep it in memory.

He leaned closer again, his breath heating up your face as his nose bumped into yours. His lips barely touched yours, teasing you as he rested his forehead against yours and his hand cupped your cheek. You closed the gap this time, bringing your hand up to the back of his neck in an attempt to bring him impossibly closer. He laughed this time—genuinely laughed—his lips forming a large smile as he continued to kiss you.

The moment was cut short when footsteps approached. Mando whipped around, placing his helmet on his head and grabbing his blaster in the span of a few seconds. He tapped your arm, encouraging you to open your eyes and stand up. When you stood, he guided you behind him, using his body to shield you from any danger.

“Stay close to me.” His voice was back to its usual gruffness, his eyes darting back and forth as he tried to find the best escape route for you. The footsteps grew closer, approaching the side of the building where it was easy to access the roof.

With Din by your side, you felt much more confident when grabbing your blaster; though you still failed to imitate his much calmer demeanor. But the sudden sound of the child cooing made you heave a sigh of relief. You holstered your blaster and ran towards the edge, ignoring Din’s attempt to hold you back. Fett’s helmeted head came into view as he tried to climb onto the roof; the child balanced in one hand and a bottle of spotchka in the other. You took the child from him, cradling him in your arms while Din helped Fett onto the roof.

“You’re kid is quite the hassle, Mando,” his speech was slurred, and he swayed on his feet.

“You didn’t let him drink any of that, did you?” You raised your eyebrow and pointed to his drink. He laughed at that, doubling over and patting his knee.

“You hear that, Mando? Your partner over here thinks I let the kid drink!”

Din sighed, shaking his head and tilting his helmet down. “Yeah, Fett. Maybe you should get back to your room.”

Fett hiccuped, shifting from foot to foot. “Where is that again?”

Din deeply sighed again before looking towards you. “Will you take the kid back to our room?” He slightly jerked his helmet towards Fett. “I’m going to take him back to his room.”

“Yeah,” you nodded your head, smiling down at the kid. “I’ll meet you in the room.”

Din tapped Fett’s shoulder, gesturing for him to get moving. As the group moved towards the edge of the roof, Din turned towards you and, as softly as possible, tapped his helmet against your forehead; a keldabe kiss. “Be safe, will you?”

You smiled and kissed his helmeted cheek. “Of course, Din,” a sly smirk formed on your face. “Besides, I’m looking forward to continuing our business once we get back to the room.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at the way Din froze in his tracks. You looked down at the child one more time, his big eyes reflecting the light of the moon. You placed a kiss on his forehead, and watched as he peacefully drifted off to sleep.

You sighed as the wind swirled around you, caressing you in its trail, and you couldn’t help but think about Din’s lips on yours. The goosebumps that you got from the wind was temporary, but the goosebumps that Din gave you? Those were a constant that you hoped to keep in your life forever.

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

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magicrowiswritingstuff · 3 years

Text

"Sorry" - Din Djarin x gender-neutral!reader

Summary: Every night the pain in your soul becomes silent tears in your eyes as you cry yourself to sleep.

Warning: heavy angst and sadness, that's it I think...

Category: angst, hurt/comfort

Words: about 2.500

Notes: This is part of @din-damn-djarin’s song prompt writing challenge which I joined super late but at least I finished this fic hella fast. I was just so motivated. I chose Sorry by Nothing But Thieves. As a little extra challenge for myself I tried to incorporate some of the lyrics directly into the story... maybe you can spot them! Note 2: I will beta-read this tomorrow after I had a few hours of sleep so until then please just ignore any mistakes...

_________________________________

"Sorry" - Din Djarin x gn!reader

After all these months, after all these small touches you couldn't help but imagine a future with him. You couldn't help but envision how everything would play out when you would confess your feelings to him.

After all these months you had finally realized what that fluttering in your stomach was, whenever Din brushed you lightly. The smallest touch was enough to make your heart throb against your ribs so painfully sweet. Heat rose to your cheeks whenever he lightly taped your arm or placed his hand on your shoulder to get your attention. They were only small touches, innocent and fleeting but they meant the world to you. When he soothingly rubbed your back or squeezed your hand you knew he cared. You knew he felt the same even if neither of you had said it out loud.

After all these months you two had grown more comfortable with the presence of each other. So comfortable, in fact, that somehow you ended up cuddled up on the pilot seat in his lap when you were exhausted after a day filled with running and shooting, more often than not. You had no idea why or how it started but you didn't care. You felt safe whenever he would wrap his arms around you and let you press your face between his helmet and neck. When he let you melt into his comforting warmth and forget the terrors of the day. You knew he cared when he held you tight, close to him and his racing heart that was beating just as fast as your own underneath his beskar and your fingertips.

After all these months you knew you loved him with all your heart. And you couldn't help but envision how it would be if he was yours. You couldn't help fantasize about the perfect future with him and the kid.

After all these months you had thought you knew how he felt for you, too. Maybe love had made you blind. Maybe you had just been naive and dumb. Maybe you had slowly lost grip on reality while being held by him, while being so close to him. Because reality came back crashing down on you when you had told him how you felt… and when he had told you how he didn't.

"I'm sorry. I don't… I can't return your feelings."

_______________

The sudden distance was heartbreaking. You had gotten so used to his touches, his embrace, his warmth that the sudden loss laid heavily on your shoulders. With every step it pulled you further down, further into the spiral of hurt and pain. You couldn't look up at his visor anymore, your eyes always lowered when you where near him. Because even though he had broken your heart you couldn't bring yourself to leave. Even if every day reminded you of the pain, digging it's spikes into your heart, deeper and deeper with every passing day you spend on the Razor Crest, you couldn't bring yourself to leave him and the kid. You loved them both dearly and even when your feelings were unreturned you had a duty to fulfill. You had joined Din to help him with the kid and not to... fall in love.

But when he sat like that before you on the pilot seat, his armor stripped off and his arm freed from his flight suit so you could stitch up the wound he couldn't reach on his own, you felt the pain even more prominently than ever before. Because this was the first time you saw him. This was the first time you saw the man underneath the armor, the gentle, honest man you knew… you thought he was.

You couldn't raise your gaze to meet his blank visor anymore, you couldn't stand being close to him anymore. Because every fleeting touch felt like it burned you. Every touch seemed to laugh at you and your stupidity, laugh at how you could have ever thought you had a chance with him. The future you had envisioned had broken down around you and left you and your heart in tiny pieces. And whenever you tried to pick them up and but them back together, every time you tried to move on they just slipped past your trembling fingers.

At night you laid wide away, staring at the ceiling from your improvised bed with tear filled eyes. Every night your thoughts kept circling around if it had been your fault somehow. At how you could have been so blind. Had you misread the situation so severely? Could you have been really so blind and dumb? Had all these nights in hyperspace spend tightly cuddled up on the pilot seat truly meant nothing to him? Every night the pain in your soul became silent tears in your eyes as you cried yourself to sleep.

And now you had to pull all your strength together to push those tears back down, to not break down right in front of him. But when the touch of his uncovered skin slowly warmed up your trembling fingers and when you felt the pulsing of his heart in the vessels of his upper arm echo back in your own, it became impossible. Silently one dropped down onto your shaking hands as the rest began to cloud your vision. You quickly finished up his stitches and helped him back into his flight suit before you hurrydly closed the med kit and pressed it against your chest. You turned around to walk out of the cockpit but you had only took a few steps away when he reached out and curled his still gloveless fingers around your wrist, making your body freeze up. A soft whimper escaped your lips as your breath got stuck in your throat. You felt him tug at your arm ever so slightly, begging you to turn around and face him. But you couldn't. If you would turn around now you knew you couldn't hold back the wave of tears and the storm of emotions anymore. You knew you would break right there in front of him.

"(Y/N)."

You bit your tongue, trying to hold back the sob as the tears continued to cloud your vision. You pressed your eyes closed and begged yourself to hold it together, to not show him how much he had hurt you. But when you heard him stand up and softly turn you around to face him you knew you had lost the battle. You opened your eyes and looked up at him as the tears finally spilled over, as a broken sob finally tore through your throat, leaving you even more empty then you felt before when your eyes locked onto the void of his visor. You wanted to scream at him, tell him how awfully he had hurt you but all you could do was shakingly stand before him and press the med kit even closer against you, clutching onto it to seek some form of comfort you knew only he could give you.

Din had been prepared for your rage, for angry words thrown against him but he hadn't been prepared for the heartbreaking sight as you broke down right in front of him. And all he wanted to do was pull you into his arms, wipe your tears away and whisper into your ear but he knew he had missed his chance when he had told you he didn't feel the same…

"I'm sorry."

His voice was soft and filled with regret-no, stop. You took a deep breath and forced yourself to remember why you were standing before him, crying your eyes out right in front of him. He had broke your heart. He didn't feel the same. There was no regret. There couldn't be regret in his voice it must have been something else. But then he repeated it. "I'm sorry" over and over again under his breath, his voice shaking. And you knew it was regret that made it shake with emotion. And you knew he meant it. You knew he was being honest. But all that didn't fix it, all that didn't make it any less painful. "Please, stop" you begged and tugged at his hand that was still curled around your wrist. Your voice sounded foreign, so unlike you, almost strangely heavy as you whispered those words. "There is nothing left to say."

You freed yourself from his grip and took one step back, giving him one last, sad look before you turned around to walk out of the cockpit. Only for him to stop you once more. With his hands on your shoulders he turned you back around. And before you could realize what he was doing he had already pushed the med kit out of your arms and to the floor as he pulled you against him. His arms wrapped around your shoulders and back, they kept you pressed against his chest. He still hadn't put his armor back on so instead of the cold beskar you were used to you were pressed against the warmth of his skin from underneath the flight suit. The warmth you had missed and craved so much. The warmth that now felt like it burned you and it took everything in you not to hiss in pain. When your mind finally caught back on, on what was happening you immediately went completely rigid in his embrace. And when those words left the savity of his helmet once more you pushed against him, clawed against his chest to try and get away. "No!" you cried out loudly. "You don't get to break my heart and hug me later!" Another wave of tears crashed over you and another storm of emotions laced up your throat but you forced yourself to stay at the surface, to not get pulled down by the waves. "You can't do that!" you sobbed, not able to hold the words back anymore. "You can't make me believe you love me and then- I can't believe I was stupid enough to believe you might have really felt the same. I-" "Stop that, you're not stupid" he whispered. You wanted to say more but the firmness in his voice made you close your mouth as you stopped fighting against him. Giving up you let him hold you pressed against his chest. "You're not stupid." As new tears welled up in your eyes you slowly wrapped your arms around him, too. Ignoring that he was the source of your pain, ignoring that he was the one pushing those spikes into your heart deeper and deeper with every passing day. You ignored all that and instead let yourself melt into the warmth and comfort of his embrace you had craved for so long.

"You aren't stupid, you… I- I lied" he continued. "I do feel the same for you."

Your breath hitched in your throat but you kept your head pressed against his chest, too scared to look up and see that maybe everything was just a dream, that everything was just a figment of your imagination and broken beart. Surely you must have imagined his voice, his words. But then he repeated them.

"I lied."

"Why?" you asked before you could bite your tongue. "Why did you lie? Why did you do this to me then? Why?" your tears were audible in the way your voice shook and trembled and in the way you clutched at the fabric of his flight suit, seeking halt, seeking answers. Din sighed deeply, you felt his chest rise and lower slowly as you hugged him tighter. "Din, why?" "I-" he began, his voice trembling just as much. His heart was beating so heavily against his ribs you could feel it hammering against your own chest.

"I don't deserve you."

You wanted to look up, you wanted to meet his visor again but he placed his chin on top of your head, forcing you to stay pressed against him with your head lowered. It felt like he didn't want you to see him right now, like he was afraid of your eyes. As if he was afraid to see agreement in them. "Din-" you began but he interrupted you by him continuing his explanation. "I'm not the man you deserve. You deserve better than me. Someone who's not as broken, not as defective, not… I'm not as good as you think I am." You wrapped your arms tighter around him as he began to shake and then furrowed your brows, somehow feeling angry that he would think that way about himself. "You arent broken and you aren't defective!" you began again, forcing your voice to sound strong and to blink the tears away. "You are a good man, Din." "I hurt you!" he objected and buried his fingers into the fabric of your shirt, seeking halt and comfort just like you. "All I wanted was to protect you from... me. But all I did was hurting you instead." For a few seconds you didn't say anything, your chaotic thoughts racing in your mind in circles again and again. This wasn't what you had expected when he had grabbed your wrist. And you had no idea what you were supposed to do now. You still felt hurt but the anger had vanished. But without the anger the pain just felt more present. And even though he had explained to you why he had done it... it would still hurt for a long while. The fact that he didn't feel like he deserved you, that he didn't deserve happiness was heartbreaking.

"You did hurt me" you agreed truthfully as you swallowed down another wave of tears, putting on a strong face instead. "And I don't agree with the reason why but… it's okay." You slowly freed yourself from his embrace and took one step back. His arms were still loosely wrapped around you but his visor was lowered, staring at the floor instead of at you. "No, I'm not… it's not-" "Stop" you interrupted him firmly and then softly placed your hands on each side of his helmet, forcing him to look up and at you. When your eyes finally locked onto the blackness of his visor, on his eyes that were hiding underneath, you took a deep breath. "I decide who I deserve" you declared. "It's my decision who I give my heart to." Din nodded slowly in understanding while you collected all your strength for the next words you wanted to say. "You hurt me deeply." Din noticeably flinched at that but didn't speak up or try to move away from you. "But I'm ready to forgive you" you continued honestly. "I still feel the same, I still-" Your voice failed you, your throat hoarse and tired after all the crying but you forced yourself to carry on. "Are you ready to give us a change?" Din didn't hesitate one second, his ungloved hand shooting up to cup your cheek in a soothing manner. "Yes, I'm ready. I want this-" he faltered a bit and hesitantly wiped away the last traces the tears had left on your skin. "I want this if you want me?" "Maker, yes" you whispered breathlessly. You placed one hand on top of his that was still resting on your face, letting yourself really feel his skin for the first time. You felt the roughness of his hand, the little scars that littered the back of it. But all you could think about was how soft and gentle they were when he let his fingers slowly dance over your skin. How delicately he always touched you. But those small touches suddenly didn't feel enough anymore. Gently you curled your fingers around his and tugged lightly at them.

"I've been waiting so long... I can't be patient anymore" you whispered and let your eyes flutter close before you placed his hand over them. The clutter of his helmet landing on the floor was left unnoticed when you finally felt his lips on yours.

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Does the ending feel a little rushed? Maybe. Do I care? Nope.

_________________________________

Taglists:

Permanent Simps: @buckysalefty

Din Djarin Simps: @theflightytemptressadventure / @sarahjkl82-blog / @remmysbounty / @undeniableadrenaline / @kassidydjarin / @freeshavocadoooo / @dindaddy-ficrec / @wonderless-screwup / @helena-way07 / @n0ffitar / @24-blackbirds / @thethunderstormsgirl / @mylifeofcalculatedchaos / @mandos-co / @smoldjarin

#the mandalorian #din djarin #mando #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x reader #mando x reader #gender-neutral reader #gender-neutral #reader #x reader #star wars x reader #angst #hurt/comfort #the mandalorian imagine #the mandalorian oneshot #song prompt writing challenge #din-damn-djarin

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koskareevesismyqueen · 3 years

Text

Reunited at last

Pairing: Din Djarin x afab!reader

Word count: 2.8k

Rating: explicit (18+ only)

Warnings: oral sex (f&m receiving), piv sex, unprotected sex, breath play. Please be safe!

Summary: you were trying to get over ‘beskar boy’. That is until he walks into your local cantina and you’re reunited at last.

Author’s note: this fic has been written as part of the SL+ fic exchange for the amazing @louderrthanthunderr! I hope you enjoy having some Din time my love ♡

This, this was the way you enjoyed spending your evenings. Leaving work, coming straight to the cantina and spending an evening laughing and joking with your girlfriends. Talking about stupid shit, about the latest work gossip and who everyone had been hooking up with or at least talking to. You had no ulterior motive, no not at all. Not a beskar clad motive.

You shake your head, as if that’s really going to get rid of your thoughts, and take another sip of the non-descript, bitter clear liquid in front of you. You try to keep your face neutral, not allowing yourself to wince as the liquid burns the back of your throat.

“Well,” one of your friends asks as she looks at you from across the sticky, glass strewn table as she gives you a light kick in the shin with the toe of her boot.

“Huh,” you say as you meet her eyes, puzzled. You had definitely zoned out for way too long.

“Anything happened since beskar boy?”

You screw your face up, hating that you can’t refer to him by his real name when you’re chatting with your friends. You had insisted that they at least called him Mando, but beskar boy had stuck and you hadn’t changed their minds since.

“I told you, since the last time he was here I haven’t spoken to him. Anyway,” you say with the most faked nonchalant shrug you can muster, “I’ve forgotten about him.”

The table erupts into laughter and you roll your eyes in response.

“Forgotten about him? Really? Okay then, who have you forgotten about him with?”

Defeated, you let out an exasperated sigh.

“Right, I’m going to the ‘fresher. Don’t cause any trouble while I’m gone.” You wiggle your way out of the booth, glad you sat on the end, and squeeze your way through the gaps in the crowd surrounding the bar until you find yourself in the ‘fresher. Grateful for a break away from ‘beskar boy’ drama, you muse your hair, adjusting it so it sits just right. You reapply your lipstick, adjust your outfit then make your way back out.

You walk right past the bar, glad that there’s more of a path cleared for you than there had been on the way in, then slide back into the booth. Your table is uncharacteristically, no, scarily quiet.

“What?” You ask as you pull a face, suddenly feeling anxiety rising through your chest.

“Uh, did you fail to notice anything…different?”

“What, apart from you lot all acting like the mythical Luke Skywalker just walked in, no. I have no idea what’s going on.”

Your friend gently pokes her index finger into your cheek, forcing you to turn your head around towards the bar. You immediately snap your head back round, heart racing.

“Kriff,” you hiss, “has he noticed me?”

“What, going cold feet on beskar boy are you now? Go. Go and talk to him.”

You fidget nervously, the lines on the palms of your hands suddenly the most interesting thing you’ve ever seen. You can’t avoid him forever because he’s bound to see you at some point, then he’s either going to be hurt you ignored him and continue with his day or he’ll come and talk to you. At least if you go over, you’re in control. With a last deep, shaky breath you stand up. You smooth the creases out of your outfit and then stride over to the bar. You pull yourself up onto a bar stool a couple of meters to the right of Din and order your drink – something much less alcoholic. A little liquid luck had been necessary for you to get the confidence to come over by you absolutely didn’t want to have too much and embarrass yourself.

“Well well well,” you say with a smirk, the product of your false confidence, as you stir the drink the bartender had places in front of you, “I’d say look what the little green womp rat dragged in but I can’t see the tiny tyke anywhere?”

You almost hear the pain in Din’s next breath, despite the way you know he’s controlling it.

“He’s…gone to join other’s like his kind.”

You feel the way your eyes widen. “There’s a whole planet full of those little green aliens?” Half a question, half an exclamation. Din lets out a deep, soft chuckle in response and you feel the way your body quivers in retaliation.

“No. Other jedi. He’s gone off to train.”

You nod in response and place a hand on Din’s arm rubbing small, smoothing circles into the small space between his armour. You wonder if he feels the electricity run through him at the touch, despite how mundane and unsuggestive it is.

“I’m sorry, Din,” you say lightly, trying to read his emotions without much to go off. “I’m here if you need me.”

He turns to look at you and imagine the way his eyes look right into yours. “Actually, I’m really glad you’re here. I’ve been needing a distraction.”

“Oh?” You ask, suddenly realising that you’re shaking. Kriff, are you really this nervous to see him again?

“That’s if you’re up for it of course, Mesh’la?” You nod your head and Din wraps his fingers in yours, a strangely comforting gesture despite the barrier his gloves provide. He pulls you out of the cantina and you try your hardest to match your strides to him, but he’s taller than you and a trained warrior so it’s hard but you try your best anyway. He takes a sharp right out of the cantina and pulls you after him, taking the time to pull you in a little closer now. You’re never going to look like a perfect couple walking down the street with Din – him half dragging you after him as he rushes back to the Crest because he’s so desperate to fuck you is about as romantic as it gets.

Relief floods through you, alongside a fresh surge of heat, when you realise the Crest isn’t parked that far away. The ramp opens with a soft hiss of the hydraulics and closes the same way after Din pulls you in behind him. After the soft thud signifying the latches locking into place sounds, Din pulls you into him. You feel the way your breasts press between you against the hard layer of beskar, your nipples hardening at the thought of everything below his armour. He slowly pulls his right glove off then cups your cheek with his hand. You feel the way he strokes his thumb over your cheekbone and for a second you allow yourself to melt into his touch before he softly pulls his hand away.

You watch as Din slowly begins pulling off the pieces of beskar, undoing latches and buckles. He places them in a neat pile and the care he shows for them is obvious. He leaves his helmet and flight suit on, but the growing bulge is obvious and practically makes you drool. You close your eyes for a few moments as the familiar clunk of his boots over the metal floor clunk towards you, only opening your eyes when you can hear that he’s a few strides away. He pulls you back in close, the skin on skin contact so close it almost hurts, and wraps his hand through your hair. He pulls slightly, causing your head to tip back and he brings his head into the curve of your neck, his vocoder hovering next to your ear.

“Are you going to be a good girl for me?” He whispers, and you feel the way you clench in response, the dampness between your legs spreading. You nod your head, biting your lip to hold everything you want to say in.

Din steps away and you keep your eyes fixed on his visor. “Stand there. Don’t move. Watch me.” And you do. You watch as Din steps away and moves towards the little rickety bed. He sits down, then shifts his flight suit so that his cock springs free. In that moment you want to move, walk towards him, wrap your hand around it. Instead you bite your lip harder because you know you can’t move. You have to stay still.

You watch as he wraps his hand around himself, a bead of precum leaking from the tip as he anticipates everything. He slowly starts rubbing his hand up and down his length, occasionally pausing to gather the precum from his tip with his thumb, swirling it around to lubricate himself. You watch, as patiently as possible, but it grows harder and harder by the second. You feel the wetness between your legs, the way you feel yourself clenching at every slight movement. Din’s visor is fixed on your, your reaction, as you fidget around in an attempt to find some sort of friction.

“What did I say?” Din growls but you can’t help it now. You need to feel something, whether it’s Din or yourself. You start moving your hand and Din is there in a flash, thigh between your legs as grabs your hands, holding them aloft. You struggle a little but it’s all in good faith.

“I can be a good girl, Din. Let me show you,” you bat your eyelashes at him and bite down gently on your lip. Din doesn’t necessarily need a big show, but it doesn’t hurt to give one. You watch as his helmet gently tips, giving you the confirmation you needed, and you lunge at him claws practically outstretched. You kneel down on the floor between his legs – knees padded with a rough blanket he gives you – then wrap your hand around him. He looks big compared to your hand. You grip him tightly and begin moving your hand up and down, thumb pausing and smoothing over his head as you gather the slowly leaking precum, before you repeat the movement. You look up at him one last time, imagining the way his eyes – brown, you think – are hooded beneath his helmet as he looks down at you full of lust. You slowly dip your head down, opening your mouth to allow yourself to take his length. After a few moments you begin moving your head up and down, tongue swirling over him, hand gripping his base as you hollow your cheeks. You keep it up for a while, your other hand gripping the outside of his thigh, revelling in the way the normally quiet Din Djarin is slowly getting louder as he lets out a series of groans and moans. But eventually, he brings his hand to the back of your neck and slowly pulls you away. You release him from your mouth with a soft pop and look up unexpectedly, a mixture of drool and precum covering your chin. Din gently wipes it away and you try not to melt back into his touch.

“Enough,” he whispers softly, the deep bass of his voice echoing through the vocoder, “on the bed.”

He shifts himself out of the way and you take his place. You watch as he makes his way across the Crest, opening a draw and rifling through until he pulls out a couple of items. The first is the familiar blindfold that Din always puts on you when you’re together. He knots it at the back of your head, checking to make sure it’ll stay in place but also isn’t hurting you, then runs the tips of his fingers down your arm leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. You let out a slight shiver, the beginnings of ecstasy starting to course through you.

The soft clink of metal on metal sounds out throughout the room and you realise that Din has taken his helmet off. He picks up your hands, holding them carefully in his, then softly runs his lips over your knuckles. You feel his soft breaths and rough stubble against your skin, a stark contrast to anything you have felt for a long time.

He parts your legs with his hands, a firm push, then you feel him shift into position. It shocks you a little when he buries his head between your legs like a man starved but the shock is good. Stars, when was the last time you had felt something this good? Not since you had seen Din last, months ago. He laps out you, long strokes of his tongue lapping among your folds, tongue diving into your core then focussing on your clit. Your head tips back in ecstasy as your mouth litters out a series of moans and curses of kriff and stars. You had forgotten how good it feels as the pressure builds and you feel the wave of your orgasm building and rolling over, your body suddenly becoming ultrasensitive as Din continues to lap at you as your hips buck and writhe beneath him.

He continues, only slightly pausing to adjust his position. He uses one hand to pin you down over your hips and you feel the sheets shift as he reaches his other hand out, grasping around, followed by a soft and familiar buzz.

Stars.

The moment Din pushes the vibrator to your already oversensitive clit your hips buck, their movements more frenzied and jagged than before. He continues dipping his tongue in and out of you as he moves the vibrator around in small circles on your clit and its not long before you’re crying out as the second orgasm washes over you. This time, Din pulls away although you note that you can still hear the muffled vibrations. Your lungs take quick breaths in and out as you take the brief moment of respite before the next part that you know is coming.

Din picks you up and pushes you further up the bed so that he can lie on top of you. You feel the warmth of his body weight, the soft tickle of his chest hair and the thin layer of sweat between you. He brings his lips down onto yours, the kiss soft and sweet to start with but he soon pushes his tongue into your mouth, deepening the kiss and pulling the both of you closer together. His hand trails over your curves and you arch your back, shifting towards his hand.

“Are you ready, mesh’la?” He whispers against your ear, his voice still gruff but softer without the vocoder altering it. You nod your head, a little pathetically as you feel the head of his cock teasing against your opening. You buck your hips up slightly to meet him, reaching down with your hand to spread yourself open as he steadily pushes into you. His mouth reaches down to your neck, kissing and sucking along your collar bone as he begins slowly thrusting his hips into yours. Ecstasy and pleasure course through your veins as he hits your G-spot with every thrust, making you cry out every time.

The two of you begin to settle into a steady rhythm, hips meeting thrust for thrust, breathy moans and gasps against each others skin. But just as it becomes familiar, Din grabs you around your waist and flips you over, bringing himself up so he’s leaning back on his lower legs with you sat on top of him, one hand reaching round press the vibrator onto your clit again and the other snaking around your neck applying light pressure. Your moans becomes faster and louder, slightly constrained beneath his grip as he pushes deeper and deeper into you, the feeling of him bottoming out making you see begin to see stars.

“Din,” you whisper hoarsely, “I-I’m going to c-c.”

“When you’re ready, sweet girl,” he whispers back before you feel his teeth grazing your earlobe.

Your vision goes white as the final wave of your orgasm hits, your walls squeezing around Din as his thrusts stutter inside you. The two of you sit for a few moments, his arms wrapped around your middle holding you close.

“I should go and clean up,” you say lightly as you slowly extract yourself from his grip. By the time you come back out of the ‘fresher, Din’s helmet is back on which at least means you can take off your blindfold. You stand at the door, looking down at the blindfold which is now in your hands, unsure of your next move. For a second, you’re thrown back to being in the cantina, unsure if you’re going to see Din again. But now you’re here, naked on his ship. Even though you’ve seen him again, you’re not sure if and what this means for the future. But for now, Din is lying on his uneven mattress, arms open and waiting for you.

Yeah, the future is uncertain. But you can at least make the most of the next few moments in Din’s arms, reunited at last.

♡♡♡♡♡

#sl fic challenge #din djarin x you #Din Djarin x reader #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x f!reader #Din Djarin #mandalorian #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader

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rostovs-lover · 3 years

Text

settle

din djarin x reader | a bounty, smooching, way too much flowery language| gender neutral | fluff | wc.1594

this is all flowery writing and i still haven’t watched the second season, so. also, researching for this somehow led me to a 2017 1D gangbang fic on ao3 so that-

hey hey, if you want some requests, i’d love some first kiss fluff with Mando??? however you want to handle the mask thing go for it, i just need some tlc from Din 🥺 if you wanna of course

despite how connected you are to each other, you and Din have only limited yourselves to mere hand touches. but he’s in love and it needs to come out.

The Razor Crest shifted in the air, shaking the bundle of flower against the windshield. They had been picked in a small village, temporary lodging for you and the Child while Din tracked a smuggler from several planets over. It was calm and lush and green and you had been thrilled to present your companion with the little purple bouquet. It wasn’t much, small, half wilted, and tied off with a thin piece of sewing string from your pack but he’d taken it gently in his hands and vowed to put it somewhere he’d always see it. To always have a reminder of you.

When all was said and done, the bounty caught, and you’d found your way back into the ship something had seemed different, more domestic. Floating around in an endless expanse of darkness, just talking. It was so simple, so innocent. Din wasn’t accustomed to the gentleness of domesticity, with his legs stretched out onto the dash and your soft presence floating around the cabin. He sat, still and quietly, listening to your voice, absolutely entranced. He had lived years, decades, on his lonesome, lone bandit doing as he pleased with a lack of regard to anything else. He could go and do terribly risky things. He could almost get himself killed and then thrive off of the adrenaline of living and no one would say a thing. But then there was a child, something small and fragile. He had a life in his grasp, something that would only flourish if he fed and watered it and gave it the right amount of love and sunlight. One lapse of judgement and suddenly the entirety of the universe rested right against his cold leather gloves. Gloves that did unimaginable things, cruel and incredible things. They smelled of blaster residue and guilt, payment for taken lives. He was ruthless until he wasn’t. Until he found a baby, alone, and saw a mirror, saw himself. It had softened him, reduced him to positively nothing.

The child was all he vowed to have, the only thing he would allow himself to love. And Din refused to believe he could open himself to anyone else, refused to let himself have anything else that could hinder him. But Maker, if the body really was made of stardust then a constellation had to give up two pieces of itself for the both of you to be here, together, perfectly aligned. He had surrendered himself entirely at your first words to him, fallen to his knees instead of replying and from that moment forwards Din Djarin, the feared bounty hunter in all his hard, hand-forged armour, had belonged to you. His soul melded into you.

The term “soulmate” was to be used lightly, and as much as he’d thrown the possibility around it wasn’t plausible. Impossible even, that you could be soulmates. Twin flames were more akin to what he felt you were. After one night in a murky inn, it seemed the feeling was mutual. As you’d pressed your hand to his, bare, ungloved, the only part of him you’d allowed yourself to touch. But it had been everything to him. Din had yearned for contact, and when the warmth from your palm bled into his something burned all through him and it still hadn’t left. You hadn’t left, you had burrowed yourself into his heart.

Din sat back in the pilot seat of the Razor Crest, feet propped against the dash. You were talking about a book you’d picked up in the village. It was on botany and certain botanical environments in different parts of the galaxy. You’d known most everything in the book already but it was still interesting and it contained a new tincture. It had also aided in putting the Child to sleep on several restless night. A habit he’d picked up since you’d been the one to put him to bed, only going down with a story, regardless of what it was you were reading. It was something so sweetly domestic, pure and untouched by anything happening through the galaxy.

Din’s life, from an impressionable age, had controlled by a creed. He had grown up loved and cared for but not with parents, he hadn’t ever had a textbook definition family. And in his line of work he couldn’t afford to be familial, let alone paternal. The child was accidental, at best. A cruel twist of fate had put them in the same path, The Child who owed his life for merely existing and Din, who was so feared that sometimes, the terror seeped into his own conscious. But you. You made him want to give up all the violence. He was willing to set his blaster down and never pick it back up. He would shed his brutality, pull himself from a rouge nomadic life if only for a moment more of this life. To be in love, to have a child, to nurture a family for himself. He wanted, so desperately, to have and to hold. He had also never divulged any of this to you.

“Its late-” You paused to look into the dark space outside of the ship, “In theory. We’ve been awake for a while is more accurate,”

“You can go to bed, I’ll manage with the kid.”

“We have Din, you’ve kidnapped someone since you slept last,”

Din scoffed, “Kidnapped is a little bit heavy, also incredibly incorrect. I do not kidnap, I get paid for what I do.”

“Kidnappers get paid, I think that's the point?” You pushed yourself out of the chair, “Are you coming?”

Din looked back to the console, “Fine, let me just put in the coordinates then I’ll be down, okay?”

You nodded, “Make sure not to get us lost.” You gathered your book and the blanket thrown over the headrest of The Child’s seat before opening the doors to the hallway.

You were settled into bed, pajamas on, afghan wrapped around your shoulders, and book in your clutch, when Din came down the ladder. He shuffled through the room, setting things in their rightful place, blaster under the bed, gloves on the nigh table.

“I’m turning the lights off, is that okay?”

You nodded, “Yes, yeah I’m done with this chapter.” You dogeared the page as the room was cast into darkness. The thick quilt on the bed was pushed back and the mattress sunk under his weight. There was a quiet shuffle as he removed his gloves, his helmet, and the rest of his heavy armor.

He was warm, it seemed to radiate from him. Even as he lay a lifetime away from you, only touching hands. It was pitch black and his fingers intertwined with yours.

“Did you see much of the village when we stopped?” You asked quietly, playing with his fingers.

“Enough.”

“What does that mean? Enough,”

“I saw enough of it, it was nice, lots of farmland. Did you like it?”

You nodded, moving to run your fingers over the palm of his hand. Despite how rough his line of work was Din’s hands were soft, all the years spent under thick leather gloves, “It was stunning, the baby liked it too. He really likes playing with other kids, he’s good at making friends.”

“Do you think he gets lonely?” You felt the tips of Din’s fingers shyly prod at the delicate skin on your wrist. The excitement that bubbled into your lungs seemed almost pathetic, like a schoolgirl holding hands with her crush for the very first time. But you’d never had his bare hands anywhere but your own and now he was moving up your arm.

“No, he seems content here, with us.”

His fingers were at the crook of your elbow now, pressing into the soft flesh and he almost seemed to tug at you, tug you closer, and you gave. His voice had quieted to accommodate the closed distance, “Friends couldn’t… hurt? Other kids to be around for more than just a couple of days.”

You let one of your fingertips start to dance up his bicep, “What exactly are you insinuating Mando?”

“It would be nice to settle in,” He gingerly settled his hand against the curve of your neck.

Your heart raced and you crooned into him, a soft shudder rolling through your shoulder, “Settle in?”

He carefully pushed a piece of hair from your eyes, “To be somewhere, permanently maybe,”

“Like to have a home, you mean?” You reached to hold the back of his hand against your cheek.

“Yes… maybe. Not necessarily, I mean not if you didn’t want to. Not… you but just in general.” He paused, thumbing at your cheek, “Yes you, if you wanted.”

“Din,” You murmured, reaching into the dark for him.

He caught your wrist, “I’m here. Right here.” And it was very quiet, practically silent besides the soft whirring of the engine. The air changed as he leaned closer, hair brushing against your jaw, “Is this okay?”

“Its perfect,” You whispered back up to him.

Slowly, very slowly, he pressed his mouth to yours. The stubble dusted against his jaw scratched your cheek as he tilted his head. His breath, softly flitting against your skin was warm and the hands your face made you feel safe, grounded. He smelled like leather and sweat and the freshly laundered shirt he wore. Din was home. He was soothing and familiar and home. Absolutely perfect. Absolutely wonderful.

Pulling back slowly you looked up to where you assumed he was, “Din, where exactly would we be settling in?”

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian imagine #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin imagine #the child #baby yoda #grogu #Mando #lennie writes

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