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sourwolf-sterek32 · 11 months

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Baby Girl

Summary: You and Pedro decide to tell Bella about your pregnancy.

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: language

Part 1

A/N: This was a commission request and can be read as a standalone short fic or can be read as Part 2 of A Real Daddy? it is up to you. I hope you all enjoy ❤️

Pedro had been amazing throughout your pregnancy. He stood by you through all the mood swings, the break downs, the 3am weird food cravings, all of it.

After he wrapped the filming of Gladiator, he had spent every free moment home with you. Neither of you had made the pregnancy public, only your immediate family members knew about it. You could just imagine how the internet would blow up if they found out that Pedro Pascal was going to be a real daddy.

His fans would go insane. Most of the fans would be happy for him, but there would always be a select few that would post hate on the internet. Those same fans who absolutely hated on you when you and Pedro made your relationship public all those years ago. It didn't really bother you though, his fans loved him and only wanted what was best for him, but you didn't want your unborn baby to receive that hate, and neither did Pedro.

"Good morning, baby." Pedro whispered, his voice rough and laced with sleep.

Pedro's morning voice was beautiful, and it was something that you still hadn't gotten used to in all your years living with him. His rough morning voice reminded you of The Mandalorian. It had that low rasp about it and paired with his sweet smile, you could never get enough of it.

"Morning, P." You replied, putting your phone down about to roll over and face him, but Pedro shuffled closer and wrapped his arms around you from behind, his hand resting over the pronounced baby bump while he placed gentle kisses along the side of your neck.

"How long have you been awake?"

"A while, the baby hasn't stopped kicking since 6am. It definitely takes after you."

"How so?"

"He can't seem to sit still for more than five minutes." You answered causing Pedro to snort softly.

"She." He corrected, his thumb rubbing soothing circles over the bump.

You both wanted the gender of the baby to be a surprise, but Pedro had been insistent that it was going to be a little girl. You weren't sure what made him believe it would be a girl, but you loved referring to the baby as a boy only for him to try and correct you.

"Well, she is currently pushing on my bladder." You grunted and Pedro chuckled softly, leaning down and placing a kiss on the side of your stomach.

"Be good for your mama." He warned softly, kissing your baby bump again. "I love you so much, mi hija."

You smiled, placing your hand on the back of Pedro's head, raking your fingers through his fluffy bed hair as he continued to whisper softly to your baby. You wanted to soak this up as long as you could because in a few days Pedro was flying out to do press for Gladiator.

He didn't want to go or leave you alone, but you didn't want him to stay behind just for you. Gladiator was one of the biggest roles of his career. He had worked so hard for this movie and put so much effort into it, even going as far as putting himself on a strict diet and exercise routine just to get the right look for a Gladiator. You were so incredibly proud of him, and you couldn't be the reason he missed out on doing press for this movie, he had to go.

"Okay, as much as I love this, I really need to pee." You eventually said, untangling your fingers from his hair as Pedro propped himself up on his elbow and looked down at you with those big, beautiful puppy dog eyes.

"I'll start making breakfast." He whispered, leaning down and capturing his lips with yours.

You kissed him back, "bacon and eggs?"

He smiled against your lips, "obviously."

By the time you went to the bathroom and had a much-needed warm shower, you found Pedro in the kitchen already starting on breakfast.

"Need a hand?" You asked walking over to him.

"I got it. Here." He said, placing a glass of fresh juice on the countertop of the breakfast bar in front of you.

"I'm gonna miss having breakfast made for me every morning." You commented, taking the glass and sitting down on the stool by the breakfast bar.

Pedro glanced over at you, a flash of guilt flickering across his eyes, "I don't have to go to-"

"P, we've talked about this." You said cutting him off, knowing what he was going to say. "I can't ask you to stay. You've worked so hard for this."

"But what if something happens when I'm not here?"

"Nothing is going to happen. The baby isn't due for another month."

"But-"

"Pedro." You said, raising your eyebrows at him.

"Okay. Okay. But you have to call me if anything does happen, alright? Anything." He insisted, leaning forward over the breakfast bar and grabbing your hand that was wrapped around your glass of juice and you nodded. "You're all I'm going to be thinking about during those interviews, you know?"

You rolled your eyes, "don't think about me. You're a Gladiator! Think about the movie."

"My girl is pregnant with my child, I can't not think about you, baby. It's gonna be a miracle if I don't accidently mention it during an interview."

His hand tightened around yours and your heart broke a little when you saw the wash of sadness in his beautiful brown eyes. Pedro was so excited and proud to become a real daddy, you knew he wanted to share that with people. Especially his co-stars from Gladiator that he gotten close with during those long months of filming overseas.

"I think... if you want to tell your co-stars, you can. I don't want to force you to keep this whole thing a secret." You eventually said causing his eyes to widen in surprise.

"But we agreed to keep it a secret for a while."

You shrugged your shoulders, "I know, but it wouldn't hurt to tell a couple more people, right?"

"Are you sure?"

"Positive."

"Can I call Bella then? We barely have any secrets between us, and it's been killing me not being able to tell them." Pedro confessed and your heart melted at his words.

You had been expecting him to say one of his Gladiator co-stars, but you should have seen Bella coming. Those two were like two peas in a pod. You absolutely adored Bella, and Pedro did as well.

"Facetime them. It's been so long since I last saw Bella." You replied enthusiastically and Pedro's eyes lit up before he pulled his phone out from his back pocket.

He held the phone in front of him, waiting for Bella to answer and a few seconds later their familiar joyful voice echoed from the phone.

"Hey, man! What's up?"

Pedro smiled, "not much. How are you?"

"I'm good. How-" Whatever Bella was going to say next got cut off when the smoke alarm in your house started to go off.

You winced, blocking your ears with your hands, but you could hear Bella asking what was wrong, their voice laced with worry as Pedro swore softly under his breath.

"It's fine. I just, uh, I burnt breakfast!" He shouted over the beeping as he glanced over the top of his phone at you with a guilty expression.

"I got the alarm." You said, resting your hand over your bump as you stood up from the stool.

Pedro's eyes widened, "no, no. Don't go climbing on any chairs to turn it off. I can do it."

"I'm not. I'm just going to use the end of a broom stick. I think I can manage." You answered and Pedro still looked worried, like just because you were pregnant you couldn't do a simple task. "The bacon is still burning by the way!" You shouted over your shoulder.

"Fuck." He swore under his breath, dropping the phone on the bench before he rushed over to the stove. You could hear Bella laughing through his phone above the loud beeping, finding the whole thing rather amusing.

You grabbed the broom from the cupboard and walked back over to the kitchen, lifting the end of the stick to the roof before pressing the little button on the smoke alarm, silencing the loud beeping.

Pedro sighed in relief at the instant silence as he removed the frying pan from the hot element. You put the broom down and reclaimed your seat on the bar stool, watching him in amusement as he switched the element off.

"Dude, your video chats are always so chaotic, I love it." Bella laughed through the phone.

"You just always call at the wrong times!" Pedro shouted from the stove.

"You're the one that facetimed me!" Bella shot back.

Pedro picked up one of the pieces of bacon with a pair of tongs and held it up for you to see. There wasn't much to see though because it was literally just a strip of burnt charcoal and you couldn't stop yourself from laughing causing Pedro to raise his eyebrows at you.

"Hey, I'm not the one who can't multitask. Don't blame me." You chuckled, raising your hands a little in defence.

"Is that Y/N I hear? I haven't seen her in months!" Bella said through the phone that was still abandoned on the kitchen bench face down, giving Bella a rather lovely view of the marble countertop.

Pedro put the bacon down and walked back over, picking up the phone and holding it in front of him so Bella could see him.

"Yeah, that's Y/N. She's laughing at my cooking skills. It's very rude."

"What cooking skills?" Bella teased and Pedro's jaw dropped.

"Ouch." He gasped, resting his free hand over his heart dramatically causing you and Bella to both laugh.

"How is Y/N going anyway?"

"She's good. She's good, ummm, there's... there's something we wanted to share with you actually."

"What is it? You guys pregnant or something?" Bella joked with a laugh, but their laughter died in their throat when Pedro panned the phone over to where you were sitting. "Wait, wait... no freaking way!"

You smiled, resting your hand over your very obvious baby bump as you stared at Bella through the phone, "that was a good guess."

Their eyes widened in pure shock, "I was just joking, I didn't think... Congratulations!"

Pedro walked around the countertop until he stood beside you, the camera now on you both as you stared at Bella's surprised face.

"Thank you. I wanted to tell you for a long time, but we want this to be a secret. At least for a little while." Pedro explained and Bella quickly nodded in understanding.

"That's totally fair. I won't tell anyone, I promise." They hurriedly reassured and you gave them a grateful smile. "You two are going to make such wonderful parents! When is the baby due? Wait, boy or girl? No, wait, do you have a name picked out?"

Pedro chuckled softly at their frantic questions, "no name yet, and she'll be due in a month."

Bella's eyes widened, "she?"

"We don't actually know." You corrected, glancing over at Pedro who just rolled his eyes. "He thinks it's a girl though."

"Oh, okay." Bella nodded with a gentle smile before realisation washed over them. "I'll be in the states in, like, six weeks time for work. Can I meet the baby?"

"Of course!" You replied causing them to smile brightly.

"I'm so happy for you guys. I gotta go online and find cute baby outfits!"

"Whoa, no, no. You don't need to buy us anything." Pedro quickly said, but Bella just shook their head.

"I'm not buying you anything. I'm buying the baby something."

"Bella-" Pedro started to say, but they cut him off.

"Sorry, can't hear you. The-the line is going dead- must be going.... through a tunnel." Bella responded, making their voice crackle for special effect.

"You're sitting on your couch!" Pedro exclaimed, pointing at them through the screen causing you to laugh as Bella grinned.

"I love you guys, bye!" They quickly said, not letting Pedro argue with them before Bella hung up the phone.

*Six weeks later*

You laid down on the couch, getting some much-needed rest.

Babies were so tiny, but so demanding. It wasn't like you hadn't already known that. You had to wake up at least twice throughout the nights to feed the baby but doing that on top of being woken up nearly every hour between feeds was something you hated.

Pedro, God bless his soul, would tend to the baby whenever it wasn't feeding time, allowing you to get some rest and you loved him so much for that. He had really taken being a new parent in his stride and never complained, even though you complained about being tired constantly.

You were half asleep on the couch, your head resting in Pedro's lap while he watched some old movie on television when suddenly there was a knock on your front door.

You winced at the knock, waiting for the baby to start crying from the crib in your bedroom, but after a few seconds of silence you sighed with relief when the crying never started.

"I'll go see who it is. Go back to sleep, baby." Pedro whispered, leaning down and placing a gentle kiss to your forehead before he carefully got up from the couch, shifting a pillow under your head before he walked over to the front door.

"Bella!" Pedro greeted happily a few seconds later before quickly lowering his voice. "How are you?"

"I'm great." They replied, matching Pedro's quiet tone, quickly catching on to the fact that the baby must be asleep. "How are you guys? How's Y/N and the baby doing?"

"They're good. Really good."

You could hear the smile in Pedro's voice as he spoke and you sat up on the couch and glanced towards the front door to find Bella stepping inside, their hands full of bags and a large takeaway cup of coffee which they held towards Pedro.

"You didn't have to get me coffee."

"I figured you could probably use it. You guys sounded tired on the phone the other day, but, uh, I wasn't sure if Y/N was allowed to drink caffeine or not while breast feeding, so I got her a brownie instead." Bella explained, handing him a small brown paper bag as well.

"She will love it. Thank you." Pedro replied sincerely, taking a sip of his coffee with a sigh of delight. "You remembered my coffee order?"

"It's not like it's hard to remember." Bella responded.

"His absolute abomination of a coffee order is hard to forget." You agreed, looking over the couch towards them.

Bella's head snapped in your direction so fast that you feared they had given themselves whiplash before they grinned, "I know right, what kind of psychopath has six shots of espresso on ice?"

You couldn't stop yourself from laughing at their words and Bella grinned walking over to you.

"I feel very judged right now." Pedro said, pretending to take offence.

"We are judging you." Bella shot over their shoulder causing Pedro to snort as he sipped on his coffee.

You went to stand up from the couch to give Bella a hug, but they quickly motioned for you to stay sitting before they plonked themselves down on the couch beside you and wrapped you up into a warm hug.

"It's so good to see you." You whispered, hugging Bella back just as tightly.

It had been too long since you last saw them. Way too long.

"How are you feeling? You look great." Bella complimented, pulling away as they looked you up and down with a gentle smile.

"I know you're lying, but I appreciate it." You laughed softly.

"I'm not. For someone who only just had a baby, you look fantastic." Bella insisted causing you to roll your eyes.

"You sound like Pedro."

"That's because I'm right." Pedro pointed out, walking over to the couch and handing you the brown paper bag. "Courtesy of our new uber Eats delivery person, Bella."

You smiled, taking the bag and placing it on the coffee table before turning back to Bella about to thank them, but didn't get a chance.

"I also bought this for the little one."

You watched as Bella pulled out a little stuffed teddy bear from the bag on the floor by her feet and your heart melted.

"When the baby is awake, can I meet them? I'm dying to find out if it's girl or a boy since you both are annoying and didn't want to tell me over the phone."

"C'mon, she's sleeping now. But you can see her." You said, standing up from the couch and heading towards the bedroom, but stopped when you realised Bella wasn't following you.

You turned around to find them still sitting on the couch, their jaw hung open in shock while Pedro just grinned at them.

"I was right. It is a girl." He said proudly.

"You have a baby girl?" Bella all but whispered, and if you weren't mistaken you thought you could see tears starting to rise in their eyes.

"You wanna meet her?" You asked and a second later, Bella sprung up from the couch and rushed over to you while Pedro silently followed, still sipping his coffee happily.

You opened up the door to your bedroom and walked over to the crib beside your bed and you were surprised to find that your baby girl was actually awake, her big brown eyes already looking up at you.

"She's so cute!" Bella exclaimed, covering their mouth with their hands to stop themself from shouting or crying, you weren't entirely sure which.

"Do you wanna hold her?" You asked, leaning down and gently picking up your baby girl.

"Uh..." Bella hesitated, glancing over at Pedro with a questioning look, like they weren't entirely sure if they were allowed to hold the baby or not.

"Go ahead." Pedro encouraged with a small nod.

You gently handed the baby over to Bella, making sure they supported her neck, but Bella seemed to know what they were doing, holding the little girl perfectly in their arms with a bright smile spreading across their face.

"She's so tiny." Bella whispered. "What's her name?"

"Lexi Verónica Pascal." You answered, resting your hand on Bella's shoulder as you looked down at Lexi in their arms who cooed happily when she saw you.

Bella's eyes widened at the name, looking over at Pedro who was leaning against the doorframe. He was still sipping on his coffee, but seemed to be on the verge of tears as he watched the two of you with the baby, a fond smile on his face.

Lexi began to stir in Bella's arms before her little face scrunched up and you knew what was about to happen, and a few seconds later her all too familiar cries filled the room.

Bella suddenly looked panicked as if they had done something wrong to make the baby girl cry, but Pedro quickly swooped in, putting his coffee down and holding his hands out.

"It's okay. I can take her." He reassured, and Bella was quick to hand the crying infant to him.

"Is she hungry or something?" Bella asked, watching as Pedro cradled Lexi in his arms.

"She was just fed earlier. I think she's just looking for attention, aren't you, mi hija?" Pedro whispered, looking down at his daughter.

The girl continued to wail hysterically causing him to wince and you chuckled softly before the three of you walked out the bedroom. Pedro began to wander around the main room of the house, whispering soothing words to his daughter to try and calm her.

You and Bella made your way back over to the couch and you pulled out the brownie from the brown paper bag that was on the coffee table and ripped it in half, holding the other piece towards them. The two of you sat on the couch silently eating while Pedro began to softly sing a song in Spanish to Lexi and within a few seconds, the little girls cries began to die down.

"He makes such a good girl dad." Bella commented, watching Pedro slowly walk around the house, rocking the baby in his arms.

You glanced over at Pedro, and he must have sensed you looking at him because he lifted his head and his gaze met yours from across the room. His lips twitched up into a gentle smile as he looked at you while he continued to sing softly to his daughter.

"He is the best dad." You agreed, watching Pedro with a warm smile. He really was the best.

MASTERLIST pinned to profile.

Commissions open! Link in bio & DM for enquiries.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal fanfiction #bella ramsey

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pedropascallme · 1 year

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Stupid For You

Pairing: Din Djarin x f!Reader

Summary: “‘What do you think, kid? Do I sound like your dad?’”

Warnings: Use of gendered titles (“wife” and “mother”) but otherwise just longing and a little fluff?

AN: Read part two here

Soundtrack: Stupid For You by Waterparks

“I could bring you in warm…or I could bring you in cold…” You hopped around in Din’s old chest plate, doing your best impression of the Mandalorian as Grogu watched on, gurgling happily and reaching up for you.

“What do you think, kid? Do I sound like your dad?” You picked him up, cradling him in your arms as he continued to babble nonsense. You had finally figured out, after days of being unable to stop him from crying, that all the baby really wanted was his father. It had been an accident that you had found out, really; it just happened that Grogu had gotten himself stuck in an old pauldron, and it just happened that you really wanted to try on some of the armor for yourself, and it just happened that you had to bring the kid everywhere with you—otherwise you would end up in a ship piloted by a wild-child who enjoyed tearing apart anything he could reach with his tiny baby hands.

Din had been gone, what, four days now? Not too bad. He had been gone longer before. He often returned to the ship after a little over a week, battered and bruised, and all you had to do was make sure his son was fed and happy. You were essentially just a glorified babysitter, although sometimes you liked to think of yourself as a sort of makeshift mother; you really did love the kid. Still, the longer you spent on the Crest, the longer you cared for the child, the longer you spent time with Din, growing increasingly fond of the few words you shared with each other (including a few in what you assumed was Mando’a that you couldn’t understand. What in the fresh hell was a “mesh’la”?) you couldn’t help but…miss him?

It was stupid. You were stupid. You knew his given name, and you knew he was a Mandalorian, and you knew his freak baby was capable of a little too much. Everything else was more or less a mystery to you. He seemed to like it that way, and you weren’t really in any position to change it at all. Making any move he was uncomfortable with could result in losing your job, the one true connection to anybody else that you had. Maker, you had seen what Din could do; worst case scenario you’d end up in carbonite. And, really, what would the galaxy’s scariest bounty hunter want with a wife? Not that you were thinking that far in advance, but weren’t you?

Stupid.

The child yawned, big eyes drooping slightly as you walked him to his floating bassinet. He continued to try to keep conversation with you, small patu noises here and there.

“I hear ya,” you placed him down, “but how about we continue this conversation at a later date?” He squawked and you put your hands on your hips, jutting out your knee in an attempt to properly emulate Din. Grogu made a sound that seemed like a laugh, eyes closing slowly as he tried to fight off his drowsiness.

“This is The Way.” You whispered to him, still trying to bring him peace of mind by pretending. You could feel that he missed his dad—guardian—whatever—every time Din went out during these long periods. And, hey, pretending to be as fearless and powerful as Din was fun for you, too. It kept you and the baby from going stir-crazy. It made you both feel a little safer when you put on the old, beat-up armor and acted like you were an unstoppable Mandalorian. Grogu’s breathing settled into a soft rhythm, signifying that he had lost his battle with sleep. You closed the top of his crib, turning on your heel.

“Is that what I sound like?”

You stopped in your tracks.

Din stood before you, still as a statue.

“W—I just—”

“I think my voice is deeper.” He walked forward, only taking a few strides before he was directly in front of you.

“You have a modulator.” You tried your best to avoid his gaze, heat blooming in your cheeks as you had been caught in the act of imitating—mocking—your boss. Your caretaker. Roommate? Boss.

“Mm.” He stood still before reaching his arm out in front of him, a gloved hand making contact with the chest plate you were wearing. He wrapped his knuckles against it, and you felt the vibrations of the metal over your chest. You could feel your heart in your throat. He was back, without any warning, without so much as a hello, and now he was standing before you, this beautiful man without a face, making what must have been the first purposeful physical contact you two had ever had.

“Where did you find this?”

“The-the kid found it. Kept rummaging through your, uh, wardrobe…” You trailed off, unsure if that was the correct word to use for the tiny storage space on the ship that Din had the habit of throwing spare capes and old clothes in. “He likes when I wear it.” You tried to sound like you weren’t pushing down the feeling of intense humiliation.

“You’d make a good Mandalorian.” Din dropped his hand. “It looks good on you, cyare.”

He stayed in front of you for a few moments, peering through his visor and examining you. After a few moments, he turned, walking away and up to the cockpit.

You stood where he had left you, raising a hand to where he had touched the armor you wore.

Stupid, stupid, stupid…

You're playing ring around my head I wear you like a halo You're a symphony, I'm just a sour note

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #din djarin #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian #mandalorian fanfic #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian x you

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thefrogdalorian · 4 months

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I truly believe that Din Djarin could fall for anyone, regardless of your gender identity or physical appearance. It's very Mandalorian of him, but I think he would fall in love based on your personality and characteristics, rather than how attractive you are. To Din, the way someone conducts themselves and how they treat others, plus how they interact with important people in his life (like Grogu) matters far more to him than the way they look.

Physical attraction probably comes later for him and matters less to him than it does to most other people. If Din finds your personality attractive, he's a goner. You will get to feel all of his unconditional love and devotion.

Honestly, I love it when people headcanon him as demisexual or ace... definitely think physical attraction does not come naturally to him but he can get there eventually. And when he eventually does, there's no going back.

I guess Din falls in love with someone's soul if you want to be philosophical about it. To Mandalorians, there are four simple facts of life: strength, honour, loyalty and death. If you possess the first two characteristics, Din will be loyal to you until the end.

#din djarin #din djarin brainrot #din thoughts #din djarin x you #it is YEARNING HOURS #need him so bad #din djarin x reader #maaaaybe this is my bi and somewhat on the demi/ace spectrum ass projecting but like. im right

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janghoefett · 1 year

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“Din Djarin is a large man — did you really think you could both fit in his bunk?”

In anticipation of season three, here is a little drabble about sleeping next to the Mandalorian! It is gender neutral and fairly clean, although as always, all of my work is intended for adults 18+.

———————

Din Djarin is a large man — did you really think you could both fit in his bunk?

Like all new relationships, the first night spent in your Mandalorian's bed lacked familiarity; that is to say, you were both far too accommodating and too nervous to sleep in a way that felt natural to either of you. You curled to your side to minimize the space you took up in the small sleeping compartment and Din followed suit, pulling you close into his chest as you gripped his forearm in your sleep. It was sweet… but it was careful, and not at all comfortable for either of you to be locked into a position like that.

The first problem is that Din Djarin needs to sleep on his back. You’ve seen the beating his spine takes on a daily basis and while sleeping on his side could ease someone else’s tension, he finds he needs to lay flat on his back and stretch out to be straight in order to find some relief. That should have been no problem for either of you, but with the Mandalorian’s broad shoulders and overall mass, he just about covers the width of the sleeping compartment on his own. When you offered to sleep elsewhere, Din wouldn’t hear of it — he would never want to inconvenience you and he wanted you to stay close to him, of course. So, well, you found a way to adapt.

First, you find your way into the crook under his arm and nestle your head onto his shoulder. Your arm drapes across his bare chest and your leg curls over his. Din's hands will always find their way to your body, either lacing his fingers through yours, or keeping a protective grip on your waist, or cradling your head as it rests against him. Either before you've drifted into unconsciousness or after, almost like clockwork, the Mandalorian will lean down to press a soft kiss to the crown of your head before he follows suit with sleep.

Din knows you can't stay in the same position all night; he can feel how uncomfortable you become by the way you eventually start to stiffen and shift, and because his sleep is perpetually light, he'll rouse when he feels you starting to stir. Usually you'll turn to place yourself slightly on top of him, just halfway, just to soothe the ache with your belly pressing into his hip. The Mandalorian's strong arms wrap around your body to help to ease you further on top of him, to pull you higher so that your stomach can rest more comfortably against his, and then there's a moment that will always fill his heart full to the brim — your arms come up to wrap around his shoulders and you hold onto him tightly in return in your unconscious state, just as you do whenever he carries you up into the clouds to see the look on your face.

Your body melts into his like that, as if you were two pieces of the same broken pot that realign and reform to become one perfect piece again, and just like that, you stay comfortable in his arms as you sleep soundly through the night.

When you wake in the morning, you find yourself alone and facing the wall, completely unaware of the way Din has looked after you the night before, but it’s as if you can still feel his warmth permeating your tired bones. The Mandalorian could never complain of a restless night; it was under the darkness of those nights that he could lay his title of hunter to rest, and become the protector of the love who held his whole heart.

—————

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin #din djarin x reader #x reader #x reader fanfiction #mando x reader #gender neautral reader

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dindjarindiaries · 3 months

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In Sickness & In Health

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

pairing: din djarin (the mandalorian) x reader

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

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

rating: T

word count: 2.336k

main masterlist • din djarin masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But the symptoms all felt so real.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You chuckled and nodded. “Right.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

main masterlist • din djarin masterlist

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

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phantasmagoria-in-neverland · 9 months

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Hihi! :) could I please request some headcannons for various star wars boys with a really short reader? (Your star wars boys marriage headcannons was so good it urged me to send you this ask hehe 😆)

Various Star Wars Boys Headcanons: With a Short! Reader.

A/N: Hi, thank you so much! I am super sorry for the hella long wait, but unfortunately, between school and work I've had absolutely zero free time. Hope you'll still enjoy this anyway! Also, I fell like I should point out that there are mentions of wearing heels in a few of the headcanons, but it's all still very gender neutral.

Characters: Obi-Wan Kenobi, Anakin Skywalker, Luke Skywalker, Han Solo, The Mandalorian\Din Djarin, Poe Dameron, Cal Kestis.

Obi-Wan Kenobi:

-Obi-Wan will probably not even notice your height for quite a while, he's not one to really pay attention to physical appearances. He will only realise how tall he is compared to you once he starts to develop feelings for you, and even then he will never treat it like a big deal. Might not even mention it unless you do it first.

-Appreciates when you wear heels, not because he thinks you look prettier with them on, he always thinks you're stunning no matter what, but because it really helps his neck and back to not have to lean\look down quite as much. Forgive him, he's not quite as spry as he used to be.

-But if you wear them because you feel insecure about your height? Obi-Wan will do anything he can to dissuade you from wearing them. Whether with more subtle comments or with showers of compliments, he will absolutely not rest until he is sure you know how amazing you are.

-If you were to try and climb something because you cannot reach a high place, Obi-Wan will insist on doing it for you. He usually never stops you from doing things on your own, mostly because he doesn't want to overstep; Independence is important and no matter how much he'd rather do everything for you, he knows you have lived most of your life without him, and you are more than capable of looking after yourself, but he really can't refrain himself from helping you when there's a chance you might injure yourself. If you really want to do it on your own, he will understand, but please, for his sake, won't you at least let him stand behind you so that he could catch you if you were to fall?

-Obi-Wan is notoriously almost impossible to fluster, he is too mature and also, but that is something reserved only for you, too suave for it, and although you might have tried in the past, you have never quite found his weakness. Until one day, without even thinking about it, you decided to wear his robe. The instant he came home and saw you, he flushed to the tip of his ears. He is still going to at least try and keep his composure to compliment you as he usually would, but stars above you're killing him.

He's definitely going to stay closer than usual for the rest of the day, and for as shy as he has suddenly gotten, he won't refrain himself, because that wouldn't be fair to you, from showering you in appreciation, just don't tease him or you might actually give him a heart attack. He really isn't used to this after all.

-Even if you are not insecure about it, Obi-Wan will never tease you about your height. Even when he pokes some lighthearted fun at you, he always makes sure to steer clear of the more "serious" things like personality or appearance. He never wants to risk actually hurting you.

-Obi-Wan absolutely takes the time to help you find shops that sell petite clothing options. Whenever he's travelling, be it with you or because he's on a mission, if he finds himself in a city or market he will make sure to keep both of his eyes open.

He also keeps a list of all the places he deems good enough, with little scribbled stars next to the ones he's positive you'd like. He knows how difficult finding your size tends to be for you, and that more often than not you end up having to make alterations anyway, so he's really glad to make that tedious job easier.

-When the two of you walk next to each other Obi-Wan always watches his strides. A step for him equates to two for you, and he never wants you to get tired by running after him.

Anakin Skywalker:

-Considering his height Ani can, and 100% will, hold the things you were trying to reach for so high above your head that no amount of stretching will be of any help. Don't worry, he's going to give them back even immediately… as long as you are willing to pay the ransom. Which will always consist in a kiss, it is so unoriginal that at some point you started doing it before he even got the chance to ask.

If you were ever to suggest that he could simply ask for a kiss, you're going to hear a minutes long rant about why he's definitely not going to do that, and how could you make him renounce his fun, he's already a Jedi, have some compassion.

-While hugging Anakin you will be lifted off the ground, and more often than not spun around too. It doesn't matter at all how much you weight, you're still so small, and honestly, he could hold you close for hours on end if he got the chance, do you really expect him to stay bent down for that long? Still, you can definitely tell that he not-so-secretly loves your height difference, even when he uses this as a chance to poke some lighthearted fun at you.

-Being the voice of reason in your relationship comes with the slight downside that Ani can't stand when your arguments make more sense than his, especially if you start sounding like Obi-Wan. He is not going to get angry at you, but when he's annoyed, he definitely becomes aggravating.

Especially because he loves to pretend that he can't hear you when you're making a good point. What do you expect him to do, he's so tall, and you're so short, of course he can't hear you, maybe you should get a megaphone or better yet, a ladder. On a strangely positive note, if you kick his shins to make him bend down and listen, he's not even going to pretend to be upset about it, but he is going to laugh.

-If all your climbing skills are getting displayed while you're trying to reach something that is a little too high and Anakin is there to witness, you will surely hear cheers and a little too loud encouragements being thrown at you. For once, he's not actually being embarrassing on purpose, and he will help you if you ask him to, but he won't offer to aid you himself, why should he? He knows you're more than capable of doing it on your own, and anyone with even a slight Force affinity would be able to tell that he is more than ready to catch you, but he’d much rather clap for you once you've managed it on your own.

-Ani couldn't care less if you can kick his ass into next week with your eyes closed, he still feels like he needs to shield you from all the dangers of the world. Well, to be honest, he'd still feel that way no matter your height, but he'd be lying if he said that your small stature doesn't intensify his need to hold you close and never let go. Also he really loves feeling like your protector, it makes him feel needed.

-If you are ever at a concert, event or any other situation that would require you to look at something while in the middle of a crowd, Anakin will either find you a place where you can actually see, or straight up lift you over his shoulders. He doesn't wait for you to ask, and he never complains, and if anyone else tries to make a mean comment about it, he's gonna give them a single look that will make them instantly shut up.

Luke Skywalker:

-Luke always leans or sits down when he's talking to you, he doesn't want to make you feel like he's towering over you, or for you to have to bend your neck to look up for too long.

-Like father like son, Luke will also pick you up while hugging you, but accidentally. He doesn't even realise the moment your feet start lifting off the ground, and in all probability neither did you, not when you're both melting into each other. If you point it out, he will immediately lower you back down and apologise, and although he will definitely be more careful, he isn't going to let go, he has no problem being the one to bend down.

-Luke has no problem whatsoever with your height, and he pretty much forgets about it most of the time. But there are other times, like when you're curled up while sleeping and you look so small, or when the two of you are holding hands and his engulfs your own, or when you have to ask him to bend down for a kiss, that he can’t refrain himself from finding you… adorable. He never says that out loud in case it might hurt your feelings, or make you think that he doesn't realise what a force of nature you are, but you might still figure it out anyway, when he looks at you like you're the most precious thing he has ever seen.

-On that same note, Luke will absolutely melt if you ever wear something of his. Whether it is a shirt that reaches almost all the way to your knees, or his robe that he gives you when you're cold within which you almost disappear, has little importance, either way his face is going to tint red and a lovesick smile is going to spread across his face, no matter how many times he has seen you before.

-If you ever were to hide behind him for whatever reason, he is going to get comically proud of himself, but really, Luke doesn't often get the chance to feel big and strong, and although he definitely is, he is also often underestimated until he proves himself, also, most of the people he cares for are fighters to the core and extremely independent, so he doesn't often get the chance to be a protector and he will admit without shame, that it feels really nice to know that you look to him for reassurance.

-When you are walking together through a thigh packed crowd, Luke will stand in front of you and shield you with his body. It is one of the very rare times where he doesn't ask for your permission to do something for you, of course you could do it without him, but if he can spare you from even just a single push or elbow to the ribs, if he can prevent even a single bruise, than to him it is worth your indignation. But if you were to thank him for being thoughtful? He's a goner.

Han Solo:

-It goes without saying that Han wouldn't be Han if he didn't always have a ‘short’ joke ready.

Although he is uncharacteristically optimistic when facing impossible odds, any other time his cynicism is his most predominant feature, so, say you were to say something along the lines of “Everything is going to be alright.” his response would be that “Of course you're an optimist, you're always looking up.”

Or if you were to pick a fight with a guy, Han would not be able to stop himself from remarking that “Honestly sweetheart, you should go for it, i'll even bet on you. Of course I've got faith in you! You're the perfect height to punch where it'll hurt most.” before getting the two of you out of the situation.

And of course the evergreen classic “How's the weather down there, Sweetheart?”

-Han calls you anything except your name. His preferred nickname for you is always ‘shortcake’, no matter how serious the circumstances. But, in a situation where your small stature is actually useful, maybe because you fit into a tight space, he will add 'Vertically Efficient’ in front of it; Likewise, when your height ends up hindering you, which let's be honest happens far more often than not, you will get demoted to 'Vertically Challenged Shortcake’. The man is ruthless.

-Han rests his arm on your head often. He doesn't even always do it to jab at you, he genuinely finds it a comfortable position, and I’m not sure whether that makes it better or worse. But he also, when the two of you are alone and he is feeling soft, rests his chin on your head and holds you close.

And let's not forget the forehead kisses, so many forehead kisses. It's easier than bending down to kiss your lips, especially if he is in a hurry, and it also has the bonus point of being the easiest place to reach while he is holding you to his chest.

-Han can, and without a doubt will, pretend to lose you if you find yourselves in a crowd, and he will find it absolutely hilarious. You could be standing right in front of him, maybe even be screaming at him that you are right there and to stop being an ass, and he would still look everywhere except down. If he actually ends up upsetting you, Han will grumble for a few minutes before trying to make it up to you, he really is sorry, he just never knows when to stop.

-As I said before, Han can be quite a bit of an ass when he wants to be, and when it comes to you, oftentimes even when he doesn’t actually intend to be mean. Unfortunately for the both of you, old habits die hard, and it is not rare for him to accidentally piss you off, especially when he gets a great laugh at your expenses.

Like the times he catches you struggling to reach something, and ends up finding your efforts hilarious. You’d have to plead with him for a while, before he makes any move to come to your rescue, and even then he won’t stop laughing until you get angry, you just might end up avoiding asking him all together, and find a solution by yourself.

When Han sees how crafty you can get to reach what you want, he will be genuinely quite impressed, but the best thing that will come out of his mouth will be something along the lines of “I've really gotta hand it to short people… because you usually can't reach it anyway.”

-Sure, Han might tease you to death, but Force help anyone else who dares to, especially if they actually hurt your feelings. He is ready to throw hands without a second of hesitation, and he will make the offender apologise.

The Mandalorian\ Din Djarin:

-Din never, ever, lets you get on your tippy toes or stretch your neck to kiss him. He will always bend down before you can even try to reach him, you'd almost think he has developed a sixth sense about it, and no matter how much you complain that he must already be tired and that it is no good for his back, he always shrugs and insists that he'd much rather it be his neck rather than yours. He'll forget all about it as soon as your lips touch his anyways, so he really doesn't mind.

-For as terrible as it sounds, Din is quite used to the child's height already, and although you are nowhere nearly as short, it simply means that he is already attuned to looking out for someone much smaller than him. He knows without even having to think about it whether something is a little too high up for you to reach, he instinctively looks for the smallest chair for you to sit on so that your feet won't be left dangling, and is just overall very aware of your size. In a good way, I swear.

-On kind of the same note, every time you wear heels, even more so if it isn't often, he instinctively looks lower than needed to meet your eyes. Din can get quite embarrassed about it and he always tries to adjust his stare as subtly as he can, and although his visor does help, it is not rare for you to catch him raising his head a little. It ends up looking quite silly, mostly because of how unnecessarily hard he tries to hide it, and you end up laughing at it a few times.

-Absolutely no climbing will happen under this man's watch, you could try to while he's asleep and he'd probably still get up to stop you, as I said before, he kind of has a sixth sense about it, it's the dad in him.

Din has no problem at all going out of his way to get you what you need, you won't even have time to try before it's already in your hands, especially if it stops you from trying to balance on three awkwardly piled stools, a cardboard box, a cluster of random objects he doesn't even understand how they're supposed to help, and way too many hopes and prayers. Honestly, he has seen this happen one time exactly, and it took twenty years off of his lifespan. Never again.

-Din truly doesn't want to underestimate you, your height doesn't make you fragile in any way, he knows that, but he still ends up being extra protective of you. One of the things he is the most glad for, is that your shorter stature makes it easier for him to cover you with his body. He's always wearing full body armour, and you most probably aren't, which is why he always thanks the stars every time someone is shooting at the two of you and him moving in front of you is enough to make you practically disappear.

-Din might not be a tailor, but he has mended his fair share of clothing throughout his life, and has become quite adept at it as well. And although he might not be able to make you clothes from scratch, he is more than able, and willing, to help you alter pretty much anything. Sawing with you, chatting about the day's events, maybe while enjoying the calming scenery of a beautiful planet as the child plays just a few meters away, has become one of his favourite ways to spend time with you and simply unwind.

Poe Dameron:

-Poe carries you around constantly, so much so that you fear you might forget how to use your own legs. He insists that considering you always end up on him one way or another, and it is mostly by his own doing with how much he likes having you close, you might as well enjoy the free rides.

But honestly, he kind of lacks the patience to slow down his steps so that you won't have to run after him, especially when he's particularly excited about something. Not that he wouldn't do it of course, he does, but to him it's much more convenient to just scoop you up and hurry to where you want to go.

-At times, when he can't refrain himself from teasing you, Poe will ask you to repeat what BB8 said, that he obviously understood just fine, because: “you can hear him better from down there”.

His jokes are never mean, and it is rare that he mentions your height at all, but when he does, most of the time it's something along the lines of him hugging or kissing you, and then remarking that he is “appreciating the little things”.

-Poe thinks you are absolutely adorable, and he will say so to your face. With him, no pride will be spared, at all. Why would he anyway, sure, your small stature makes you really cute, but why should that take away from your capability to kick ass? He is a firm believer in taking pride in every aspect of oneself, and when it comes to the greatest person he knows, he wants you to be proud of all that you are.

-On that same note, he will heavily dissuade you from wearing heels if you only do it because you are insecure of your height. You are stunning, and he reminds you of that every chance he gets, short or tall, you are always radiant, no need to be unnecessarily uncomfortable.

He also not so secretly loves your height difference, but that has nothing to do with his unconditional appreciation of you, although he really does like how well you fit into his chest when he holds you.

-Poe is the type to straight up ask you to wear his clothes. He doesn't know what the word subtle means, and he is really big on communicating what he is feeling and what he likes, so he sees no reason not to outright tell you how hot you look in his oversized shirts. If he already cannot keep his hands to himself for the life of him, be prepared to have him practically glued to your side the entire time you are donning his clothes.

-Poe will panic if he cannot find you in a crowd. The moment he loses sight of you he is in ‘rescue mode’, even though you are probably not in any danger, nobody kidnapped you in the half second he took his eyes off of you, and you in all likelihood did not get trampled by the crowd.

It is a bit better if he just lost you at base, he is at least sure you aren't in mortal peril then, but he might still resort to climbing something and call your name to find you as fast as he can. Yes, the people around you will think him insane, and yes, you might be tempted to pretend you do not know him, but please let him know you are alright, poor boy is worried.

-If you are having trouble reaching something, Poe will just lift you up and down to get it. Sure, he could get it for you, and that would be easier, but he doesn't want to do it in your place, unless you ask of course, he's simply trying to be the safer version of climbing a stool. It's also pretty much a constant ‘Simba moment’, which he finds hilarious.

Cal Kestis:

-Every time he's tired Cal rests his chin on your head, and whenever you are tired, you rest your head against his shoulder. You two are so adorable that it's enough to give everyone who sees you diabetes. Jokes aside, Cal is all about these casual, lighthearted displays of affection, and the fact that you two fit together so nicely is a great bonus.

-Unlike Han, Cal might actually forget to look down if he lost you in a crowd. He isn't trying to tease you, and he finds you quite quickly anyway, but he does have a tiny moment of confusion if he can hear you or sense you, but can't see you. He's going to laugh at himself for a while when he finally looks down and sees you standing there with a disappointed face.

You'd think that, like Din, he would be used to BD-1’s height, but his little companion is perched on his shoulder most of the time, so Cal might actually try to look behind himself before remembering to look down.

-Cal doesn't immediately come to your 'rescue’ when you're trying to reach something that's a little too high, even if you start climbing, simply because he doesn't want to overstep. You've got it, he knows that. He's just going to continue with whatever he is doing, while also keeping you in the corner of his eye, in case of a fall, and his ears open in case you do call for his help, in which case he will be by your side in a second.

-Cal never means to tease, but at times he might end up doing it accidentally. It's never mean, and it's usually just lighthearted comments about how small you are, never in a negative way. But if you do find it irritating, or you'd simply rather not hear it, you will only have to express it to him once, and he will do his damned best to watch his mouth from there on out.

-Cal has the time of his life anytime someone underestimates you, whether it is a physical type of fight or a verbal smackdown, he is just glad he gets to be present for it. Seeing them starting out all smug and full of confidence and then watching you kick their, literal or metaphorical, ass into next Thursday never fails to have him in stitches.

He also might or might not end up accidentally, and dramatically, quoting Shakespeare to them, something like "And though she be but little, she is fierce", it's up to you to decide whether you find that flattering or terribly embarrassing.

-Cal always, and I do mean always, wants to share earbuds with you. It's pretty much his unofficial love language, and he has a whole lot of playlists he made for you to listen to together on different occasions. He has a special soft spot for walking around hand in hand, enjoying the sights, and listening to your favourite songs. And he's not going to renounce to this little tradition even when all you have are wired earbuds, and your height difference means he has to walk leaning to the side the whole way. Sure, his back might hurt in a few hours, but the happiness he feels when the two of you get to relax in your shared little world is way more than worth it.

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zacksfairest · 1 year

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so bc im insane, this actually shouldnt be seen as a joke or a goof and should instead be seen as a legit part of mandalorian culture

in the republic commando books one of the clones-turned-mandos had special needs due to a TBI he received in battle. while they didnt modify his helmet, they wrote on his helmet to indicate that he had been injured:

Parja reached up and patted [Fi’s] helmet. She’d painted it with the Mandalorian letters M and S for mir’shupur — brain injury — just like a battlefield medic might do for triage purposes. On Mandalore, the symbol functioned as a blend of a general warning to give the wearer a break, and a medal for combat service.

— Republic Commando: Order 66, pp 39

so mandalorians, as much as they are a warrior people, do not stigmatize, nor misunderstand, mental illness or special needs. they, in fact, do understand that people have their limits, and that not everyone is the same.

anyone can become a mandalorian. no matter your gender or race or limitations. what matters is your dedication to your family, clan, and people. so yes, they would, in-universe, allow modifications for any mandalorians that couldn't wear the classic helmet.

#K*ren Tr*vis might be uuuhhhhhhhhh Not Great and the books are also Not Stellar in a lot of ways #but the groundwork she laid for the mandalorians and their culture was incredibly open minded all things considered #the mandalorian #mando'ade #vode #the mandalorian series tag

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drawingdroid · 8 months

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To be taken care of

Pairing: Din Djarin x AFAB!Reader

Summary: Spotchka makes Mando show his desire to take care of you.

Word count: 4k

Warnings: Bounty Hunter!Reader, soft!Din, set before Season One, smut!!!, little plot for context, but also FLUFF!, v fingering, no gendered words used, no y/n, alcohol, dirty talk, drunk sex, hint of praise kink, mirror kink, feelings???, reader is clueless about them tho, kind of sinful use of the helmet sorry armorer!

A/N: Hi!!! This is the first time I’m writing for this fandom OMG. I have little experience writing fics and I’m not 100% happy about this, but hey I had fun while typing smut at work! Also English is not my mother tongue and I have no Beta only Grammarly, although I edited this thoroughly, so sorry if this is awkward hehehe, I’d love to hear your thoughts about it!

You both probably had exceeded your tolerance limit with the spotchka that the kind people of Sorgan had gifted you on your last visit to the planet. Everything started with an excruciating hunt that had taken a toll on you and your bussiness partner. When the trandoshan male you’d been persecuting for weeks was finally frozen in carbonite, both of you sighed in relief and then your gaze met with his behind the visor. Neither of you were very talkative, your silences sometimes speaking louder than words. In addition, you both where extra grumpy that night because of the tiredness. Limping because of your sore muscles, provoked by hiding lying down on the hard floor for hours, you went directly to the spot where your provisions were. He tilted his head, curious. Normally after a hunt, you run to the shower to clean the grime accumulated from the days on the run.

Mando's questions were rapidly resolved when you triumphantly showed him the blue bottle and two metal mugs you used for everything. You must be a minimalist in a ship like the Razor Crest, which was definitely not designed for habitability. You also showed him the reusable straw you got him so he could drink in front of you on the field without worrying about his Creed. He fixated his helmet on you and finally nodded, so you poured him the spotchka filling the cup to the brim and then did the same for you. Next you let yourself slip down the metal floor with a heavy thump, too exhausted to stand for a minute more. He followed you and soon you found yourselves toasting lazily on the ground and drinking in silence.

“You did great today, mesh’la.” He said after emptying his mug for the first time that evening. You downed your beverage on your lap and looked at him as if he had gone nuts. In your time with him, he’d never praised you for your work. It was just expected that you gave your 100% in your hunts, right? You were after all partners, business partners. Associates. That sometimes fucked, alright. But you both kept things professional. So why did his praise affect the color of your cheeks that much?

“Thanks, Mando.” You muttered after finishing your spotckha too, offering to fill his mug again by raising the bottle towards him. He nodded and his gaze didn’t leave you this time. The truth was that Din was impressed by your performance in this last job. He knew you were a capable bounty hunter, of course, or he wouldn't have asked you to join him in the first place. It was only for one job initially, but you’d been so resourceful and worked so well along with him that he had to request you to join him full-time.

In the field, you always had his back, saving his metal ass more than one time, and your perception and ability to read people’s intentions was incredibly useful. Even though you weren't Mandalorian, he respected you as a warrior as if you were one of them. Not only respect, he felt admiration towards you.

And then it was the other side of your partnership. The one that occurred in the dark, rushed, your flushed skin against the cold beskar and soft sighs fogging his visor. The first time occurred after a near-death experience, the adrenaline ended in you being pressed against the wall in some alley by his beskar-clad body. He discovered you weren’t only outstanding at bounty hunting, but in other disciplines too.

Your intercourses would usually happen after a hunt gone south when both of you were especially frustrated and needed to let some steam off. You had three unspoken rules about them: you never talked while fucking, it was always done in the dark, and you never mentioned it afterwards. And of course, the helmet stayed on. You could never have imagined that you'd break all of the rules the current night.

You both had emptied the second round by the moment Mando spoke again. "I'm glad you accepted to be my business partner." His voice through the modulator caught you off guard, as you were lost in thought at the moment. He wasn't looking at you this time. You wondered if he was already drunk because he was behaving so off-character.

"You only say that because you love my stew." You chuckled nervously while pouring another mug for yourself. He asked his to be filled too and half of the spotchka was already gone. You could feel your palms against the glass sweaty: this opening-up-with-Mando thing was new for you.

"No…Yes, I mean… I do love your stew." It actually was the best he'd tasted and a great change from the ration packs he'd usually consume while on the Razor Crest. Mando played with the metal straw in his drink as if it was filled with your star recipe. "But what I'm saying is…it's nice to have you around." You looked at him quizzically, without a clue about where this conversation was directed or what was he referring to. Like he enjoyed your presence? Impossible. You rarely even spoke and didn’t know a lot about each other. Just enough to know you could trust your partner in the field. Maybe he was referring to sex. You knew he enjoyed it, as you did too. It was hot and somewhat felt forbidden. But anything in his cryptical tone indicated he was talking about sex, and it would be a first between you. Finally you decided he must be speaking about your job, you worked well together for sure.

"I suppose…we make a good team." Your half smile was timid and Mando surprised himself when his heart skipped a beat at your smile, but he was a bit disappointed. That was not what he was referring to. Sometimes he wished to be as talented with words as Greef Karga. He nodded and sipped half of the liquid courage remaining in his mug when he heard you giggling.

"What?" He asked drily. He almost felt hurt, where you laughing at him after dodging his attempt to tell you how he felt? You tried to stop but the alcohol had started to take a toll on your self-control. Especially on your empty stomach.

"You…you look so…so cute with your straw." He now fixated his visor on you, and although you tried to stop your laughter with your hand he only made it worse by looking deadly while sipping his spotchka.

"So you bought it in order to make fun of me?" You couldn't discern if he was joking or not but you started to be too drunk to care. He was marveled by this relaxed version of you, looking careless while sprawled on the floor. Even during sex, you'll keep it together, always looking composed. Was a bit of spotchka the one thing it took for you to get loose? If that was the case, he'd buy supplies for ages on the next planet.

"No dummy, I got it because that time you got dehydrated on Tatooine! You scared the shit out of me." Mando hardly remembered how that hunt ended, since in fact, he ended up fainting because of the lack of liquids due to being glued by the hip to you all the mission. It was certainly embarrassing. But what really made his cheeks flush was the endearing tone you had used to insult him.

"I appreciate how you always take care of me." His voice was softer than usual and the impact it had on you was totally unexpected. You stared at him frozen. Was he dehydrated again? You looked at the bottle of spotchka confused. Sure, it was a bit stronger than usual, but not that much.

"Mando… Are you drunk?" You asked carefully, and then he rotated all his body towards you.

"I want to take care of you, too." His voice came strained while he ignored your question. Your face couldn't be redder and your heartbeat started to go out of control. This couldn’t be happening, right? Where you reading well the room?

"Well, I could really use a massage. You know, my boss had me laying all day in some kriffing hole as if I was his personal sniper and my back is killing me." You said nonchalantly after a long silence, avoiding his face on purpose. He sighed in defeat and lay again in the position he was before, his long legs stretched on the floor.

"Your boss looks like an asshole." You could hear now a smile behind the helmet in his voice that warmed your heart.

"He's a tough bone, but he ends up growing on you." You winked at him and then got up, feeling suddenly how drunk you actually were. You stretched your arms over your head and then your neck and Mando could hear the crack of every one of your bones.

“I’ll give you that massage.” You weren’t expecting that he’d taken it seriously at all. He was no stranger to your body, but this new behavior of his was getting on your nerves. You had already spoken more than in all the month you were on board the Razor Crest. Slowly you nodded.

“Let me shower real quick first.” Without further notice, you locked yourself in the refresher to have the fastest shower in history, leaving The Mandalorian with his thoughts while you replayed your conversation in your head, trying to figure out his intentions.

After refreshing, you looked through your possessions, finally finding the small bottle of scented oil, and then returned to the hull while drying your hair a bit with a towel. The shower hadn't diminished your drunken state at all, and you were feeling feisty now. Thinking about how Mando was going to give you a massage had ignited your desire. And you could work with that. Because even though emotional intimacy wasn’t your forte, you new plenty about the physical one.

Mando was in the same place you had left him, now his back against the wall in a relaxed demeanor. He looked at you and then he was thankful you couldn't see his face. Of course, he had seen you in your undergarments before, but always in a non-sexual way like attending to your wounds or just a glimpse here or there. When you fucked you’d both keep most of your clothes on. He’d never appreciated you in all your glory towering over him like this. He gulped and felt his pants somewhat tighter.

You then sat nimbly in front of him, your back facing his front, and left the oil in your right so he could reach it. You noticed that another quarter of the spotchka bottle was missing.

"Confiscated." Giving him a mischievous glance, you twisted your body to reach the bottle and opened it to have a sip directly from it. Mando still hadn't moved a millimeter. A single drop slid along your throat and suddenly he wished he could lick it so badly. He had noted that your demeanor had changed, no longer nervous but confident in your body and sexuality. And that kriffin made him snap. His large hands snaked around your hip bones, dragging your body closer to his chest in one movement You gasped at the sudden contact, but this was familiar. Rough Mando, pressing you from behind against the nearest surface.

His long, muscular legs were spread around you, and you couldn't but appreciate his width and strength, seduced to caress where the beskar wasn't covering them. The time started to go slower as you stroked his skin through the flight suit. Sometimes it was difficult to remember that under all the metal a living red-blooded man resided. And said man was shivering now under your soft touches, praying that you didn't notice his neediness. He was a warrior with a task.

"Mesh'la, let me take care of you." His voice was gentle and raspy when he spoke next to your ear, and if he hadn't been wearing a helmet, you could have felt his breath tickling your skin. The tone in which he pronounced the foreign word made you feel a lot of things, some of them directed to your lower abdomen. You heard the tap of the oil and goosebumps of anticipation covered your skin. When the first drops slid down your column you were the one shivering this time.

When you felt his hands over your skin, you melted. You hadn't noticed when he’d removed his gloves. He rarely did it, and feeling them on your abused shoulders was like warm honey. You almost moaned from the touch of the rough skin of his big palms, his strong thumbs working on the knots that always formed over your shoulder blades. It felt heavenly.

“Is this okay?” If you didn’t know better, you’d swear his voice sounded a bit shy, but it was always difficult to tell through the modulator.

“S’ perfect Mando.” Your tone was breathy as you started to get a bit much worked up by his touch. He hummed and continued with his ministrations in silence. The moment felt fragile: you’d never had this intimacy together before. You noticed he was taking his time with you, feeling every muscle and curve of your strong back, tracing some scars scattered here and there. The alcohol and the massage were finally relaxing your tensed body, and then a moan you couldn’t stop escaped from your lips. His hands, which were working on your lower back at that moment, stopped and you could feel his entire body tense.

“Is this turning you on mesh’la?” All shyness was gone in a second, now his voice was thick with lust, a timbre you did recognize of him. His hands now had a harder grip on your back, like he needed to hold onto something. Sex with Mando was familiar ground, you felt relieved.

“Why don’t you check yourself?” Spotchka made you cheeky like that and you could hear Mando taking a heavy breath, confirming that your words had the effect you desired. Without warning, he dragged you towards his chest plate, the cold beskar biting your back while he positioned his helmet resting on your shoulder. Your heartbeat started to accelerate with anticipation. In this position, you could feel his chest rising every time: he was as worked up as you.

Painfully slow, he started to go over your outer thighs with a feathery touch with his calloused digits when then abruptly, he grabbed them and separated further making you gasp. The heat between your legs was unbearable and the thing you wanted more was for him to touch you. His grip on your inner thighs was almost painful, not that you minded, but you couldn’t stand more teasing.

“Mando, please…” You begged.

“Please what?” His fingers were now hovering over your clothed core, the fabric drenched in your slick. It wasn’t like your business partner hadn’t fingered you before, but it was always as a preparation for you to take his girth, never in this unrushed, lazy manner. Although you were going to explode from anticipation, you were loving every moment of it.

As Mando was too. The sensation of your plush skin filling his hands, your body pressing against his and dank farrik, your smell. It was driving him crazy, so much that he wanted to remove his helmet so he could appreciate the delicious smell of your wet pussy. His head was starting to spin and he couldn’t identify if it was for your fragrance or the quantity of spotchka running through his blood. He decided that the teasing was over then, and unceremoniously hooked his thumbs on your waistband and slid the piece of underwear down your legs, the soaked spot in the middle so evident it embarrassed you and turning him on even more. But he wasn’t still touching you where you needed him most. You were so done.

With your smaller hand, you grabbed his and placed it in your cunt letting go a snort and leaving Mando stunned.

“You wanted to take care of me? Then go on.” You said sassy, but your face was redder and hotter than a Sith’s lightsaber. He kriffing grunted and your breathing stopped when he finally put one of his thick fingers on your entrance to collect your slick. He amused himself at the fact that you were dripping because of him, feeling between surprised and a little proud about it. Then he started tracing lazy circles around your clit while spreading your pussy with the other hand. Mando relished himself in how soft and warm you were, imagining your flavor between his lips. In the confine of his flight suit, his cock twitched, impossibly harder. But today was about taking care of you and he was a man of his word.

His middle finger started tracing your slit up and down and you can’t help but waggle in his lap, feeling the pleasure spreading through your body. You inhaled hard when you notice the prominent bulge against your ass, growing only wetter at the sensation, and Mando could literally feel how your slick slid down your hole. While still rubbing your clit, he took advantage of the dampness to slide one finger inside, looking at that magic spot in your entrance that made your skin tingle. You moaned louder and he licked his lips under the helmet. An all-consuming desire was growing inside of him, the alcohol inside his veins whispering to him that he should indulge in his fantasy. You moan again in his arms and he’s a mess. Needs to taste you, to smell you to see your pussy drenched because of him. Every part of his body is in contact with yours, his helmet against your cheek. He’d love to bite your shoulder and mark your neck, and his need grows stronger while fantasizing about the idea.

“Mando…another finger…please.” Your voice was labored and so sexy he needs a sharp inhale to bring his brain the oxygen he needed. You were a beautiful mess. Your lips parted, cheeks red with lust and a sheer layer of sweat making your skin glow under the lights. This was nothing like taking you from behind in some cantina bathroom. He was done.

“Wait for a second mesh’la. And don’t turn around.” You nodded obediently, at this point you’d do whatever it took to be touched by The Mandalorian. Then you heard the hiss, you panicked a moment, knowing what the helmet meant for him. But inside you couldn’t deny the excitement from the anticipation about what he was going to do. Soon you had the answer. With a loud clank, he let his helmet rest between your spread thighs and then he breathed heavily, finally inhaling your sweet scent. It seemed odd to you that he didn’t choose another spot for his helmet, but then it hit you like a ton of bricks. Filthy bastard.

“Keep your legs spread for me.” His bossy tone made your pussy clench, you were used to his dry commands but in this context it made you drool. His unmodulated voice was like his hands, rough and gentle and warm at the same time, just like him. You found yourself wanting to hear more of it.

Mando’s hands traveled south once again and then he was spreading your lips, totally messy and wet. “Dank Farrik mesh’la look at you.” And you looked. The helmet, well-polished, silver beskar. His position between your legs wasn’t unintentional. You looked at your cunt at display, his large fingers caressing it like it was the most precious thing in the galaxy. You felt embarrassed and your first reflex was to close your legs. But he wasn’t having it.

“Mando, you’re shameless!” His strong hands didn’t let you close your legs but he spread them further. And when he had you like that, his fingers collected your slick determined to finally taste you. You could hear how he sinfully licked every finger and a more sinful, hoarse moan. You’d never hear him make a sound like that and it turned you to putty.

“Your cunt tastes as delicious as it looks.” Now, that was shameless. Who had imagined the reserved, soft-spoken Mandalorian had such a filthy tongue? His fingers were toying with your clit while he explored your hole with the other hand. Pleasure was filling every cell of your body and tiny moans were scaping more frequently from your lips, more aroused every second you looked at his movements reflected on the beskar surface.

“I’d love to taste you too Mando.” You teased grinding your hips on his cock, provoking a delicious sound from him.

“Another time mesh’la, I’m taking care of you today.” His voice was thick with drunkenness and desire and you couldn’t get enough of it. Then a perfect place stroke made you arch against him, leaving your neck at display for him. That delicious-looking skin was calling for him. A sharp bite startled you, provoking a loud moan from you. Even though he had removed his helmet, you didn’t expect him to use his lips on you. It looked like he was sporting a mustache and facial hair. Somewhat, it fitted the mental image you had of him and you siled internally. He continued sucking and biting all over your shoulders and neck, taking his time in your pulse point and you were a panting mess between his thighs, at this point, your slick even pooling on the floor.

His pace on your pussy was faster now, and you could feel and see how his fingers were knuckles deep in your insides, curved toward that delicious spot you could only reach with toys but he easily achieved to stroke. Dank Farrink, he did know your body. You realized he had to be paying more attention than you thought during your intercourses and that somehow made you hornier.

“Mando, I’m not gonna last much more…” Your voice was small, all your cheekiness from behind gone. You felt raw.

“That beautiful cunt’s gonna cum? Lemme see it mesh’la, give it to me.” Mando slurred as worked up and drunk as you. His words sent electricity directly to your pussy and your walls clenched against his fingers. “Kriff your body is amazing…you’re amazing.” His movements over your clit were now frantic and your vision started to blur. You succumbed to the sensation letting it hit you and then you were cuming all over Mando’s tan fingers with a loud cry of pleasure. He kept touching you until you shivered from overstimulation, dragging his fingers slowly from your puffy entrance. The vision was totally sinful. He started drawing lazy circles around your lips, caressing them. Your breath was still heavy while you came down from your high.

“Mando that was…” You didn’t have words for what had just happened.

“Do you feel better now cyar’ika?” His voice was soft again, even sleepy.

“Yeah, thank you for…taking care of me.” The alcohol and your orgasm were making your body drowsy, and you let yourself sink into his arms.

“Anytime.” He then kissed the point where your shoulder met your neck, something he hadn’t done before. You shivered at the sensation of his facial hair against your own skin and couldn’t help but smile fondly. In his odd way, he was sharing this private part of him with you and surprisingly your heart fluttered at the idea. He started then to drag his nose caressing your shoulder, it felt prominent, his mustache provoking goosebumps. You relished in his tenderness and at that moment you didn’t care anymore that this felt too intimate, wondering how it’d feel to kiss him. It was probably the spotchka why you were indulging in these thoughts and the reason you sighed like a teenager when his cheek leaned on yours. Probably tomorrow everything would be back to normal when both of you were sober, but for now, you’d let yourself enjoy how it felt to be taken care of by The Mandalorian.

#din djarin smut #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin x y/n #din djarin x reader #the mandolarian #the mandalorian smut #the mandalorian fanfiction #soft!din djarin #soft!mando #din djarin x gn!reader #din djarin x you #droidwrites

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beskarandblasters · 1 year

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Home

Din Djarin x Reader

Main Masterlist | Din Djarin Masterlist

Author's note: I just had to write this after seeing the Mando season finale ok 🤧🤧 Send me more requests for domestic life with Din on Nevarro. I can’t stop thinking about it 😵‍💫😵‍💫

Summary: A little drabble about domestic life with Din at his new house on Nevarro <3 Can be read as a gender neutral reader but mentions the possibility of children that come from you and Din

Word count: 300

Warnings: reader is able-bodied, fluff, spoilers for the Mandalorian season finale

Home. An actual place to call home. No more nights spent on the Razor Crest or on the run. No more Mandalorian covert. A permanent home for the three of you.

After the Mandalorians retook Mandalore, you, Din and Grogu set off for Nevarro. Greef Karga gave Din a place of his own where the three of you could just be alone. While it was nice to be with all of the other Mandalorians, you were missing quality time with your boys.

You were standing in the doorway, looking at your front yard, admiring Grogu as he played with the creatures in the pond. It was so nice to see him just be a kid again, away from all of the threats in the galaxy. You smile to yourself and just think, this is all I ever wanted.

You feel a presence behind you and an arm snake around your waist.

“Are you happy here?” Din asks, though he probably already knows the answer.

“Of course I am. This is all I’ve ever wanted; a place to call our own with just the three of us.”

“Me, too,” he says. “I think I could do this with you, a domestic life.”

You smile and lean into him.

“Never really pegged you for the domestic lifestyle, Djarin.”

“I would take any kind of lifestyle as long as it meant I had the two of you,” he says, wrapping his other arm around you. “Maybe we could raise a few more kids of our own here,” he continues.

You close your eyes, imagining a life here with Din, Grogu and more kids of your own; kids that you and Din created together.

“I would want nothing more than to raise more kids with you, Din.”

“And I’m going to give you all of that and more, cyar’ika.”

He doesn’t have to say it; you know he will.

End note: ahhhh it was short but I just had to get it out 😭🤧 Domestic Din has me WEAK so send some requests in please!!

#the mandalorian spoilers #mandalorian season 3 finale #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian x you #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #din djarin #the mandalorian #din djarin fanfiction #mandalorian imagine #din djarin imagine #mandalorian fanfiction #mandalorian season 3 #mandalorian finale #no use of y/n

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livyjh · 1 year

Text

Keep Going

Din Djarin x Reader (AFAB reader, no gendered terms used, just body parts)

Rating: EXPLICIT 18+

Word count: 1.9k

Summary: The Mandalorian gets hurt while trying to capture a bounty. He comes back to the Razor Crest and you patch him up, making him feel better in more ways than one.

Can be found on ao3 here

Din Djarin Masterlist

A/N: I’m thinking this takes place before season 1

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Stop moving.” You tell Mando.

“It fucking hurts, Y/n.” He hisses as you clean the front of his wounded shoulder.

He wasn’t usually one to complain. Not like this, anyways. He’d just bite the bullet and suffer through the pain. But you could tell he was really hurting when he was verbal about it.

“I know. I’m sorry. Just let me take care of you.” You sigh, finishing cleaning his wound with alcohol before applying bacta spray.

He sighed with relief as the cool bacta met his skin, helping to numb the pain a little. You applied a gauze pad and taped it to him, standing back and looking at your work.

He was sat on the edge of his bed compartment, only in his helmet and pants at the moment. When he’d gotten back with his bounty, he was groaning as he put the criminal in carbonite.

You came down from the cockpit to see what was going on and saw how banged up he was. You helped remove his armor and boots and then turned away so he could quickly remove his helmet and shirt, turning back only when he told you it was okay.

You’ve been traveling with the Mandalorian roughly three weeks. He hired you as a maid of sorts. Doing all the menial tasks that were below his pay grade. Cleaning his weapons, armor, and ship. Keeping food stocked. Doing mechanical maintenance on the ship when needed, but he always liked to help with that part.

You put the med kit away and then turn back to him. You stare at his chest for a moment too long, then lift your eyes back up to his visor.

He was breathing hard, hands on his thighs, occasionally making a fist when a wave of pain washed over him. The bacta was fast. Just not that fast.

You step closer to him, now able to smell his woodsy scent. “Anything else I can do to help?”

There had been sexual tension between you and the Mandalorian from day one. That, you knew for sure. When he first interviewed you, to make sure you were the right person to hire, his handshakes lingered. He thought hard before each response to you. You’re pretty sure his helmet was tilted down just slightly towards your chest several times while he was questioning you.

“You’ve done plenty. Thank you.” Mando nods.

“A massage maybe?” You suggest quickly before he gets up.

He sighs. “It’s been years since I’ve had a massage. I would be grateful.”

“Alright, lay down on your stomach.” You smile at him and he does what you say, moving (slowly and carefully so he doesn’t hurt his shoulder worse) to lay down.

You admired his ass for a moment as he did so before climbing up into the compartment and straddling the back of his hips.

He lets out a long sigh as you do this, and you’re pretty sure he’s been touch-starved most of his life. In fact, based on what he’s told you about himself, you know it.

You start with his shoulders, careful not to press down on his injured one too much. You dig your thumbs in gently, repeatedly pressing them forward up the backs of his shoulders. He’s still breathing hard.

Your hands move down, gradually reaching his low back and moving back up.

He groans when you touch a particularly sensitive spot on his mid-back.

“Sorry. I can try and loosen it up. Or I’ll leave it alone if you want.” You offer.

“Please keep going.” He breathes.

You do as he asks, rubbing the spot in gentle circles to try and relax the muscle there.

You decide to dig a little deeper and you lean down, pressing your elbow into his back.

“Fuck.” He gasps.

“Shit, sorry.” You’re sure you’ve hurt him.

“Keep. Going.” He orders with a soft whine and you lean down once more.

You put your elbow against his back, pushing down and circling it. Mando’s breathing picks up, not harder, but faster. You watch as he fists his hands in the blankets by his head and it makes heat pool between your legs.

Once you feel the spot is relatively loosened up, you go back to using both hands to massage his back up and down. He lets out a shaky sigh.

“Don’t move.” He says quietly. Then he quickly turns over underneath you and-

Oh.

Mando is hard as a rock, pressed against your heat.

You gulp. “Are we doing this?”

He nods up at you, hands resting on your thighs for a moment before slowly moving them up over your hips.

You bite your lip and grind down against him, moaning softly. He lets out a low sound, gripping your hips. You rock them back and forth against his crotch, wishing there was less clothing on you both.

You pull your shirt and bra off and his hands come up to cup your breasts. He squeezes them lightly, kneading them and playing with them, making your eyes flutter shut.

His hands move down after a minute, unbuttoning and unzipping your pants. One of his hands goes down into your panties, quickly finding your clit and teasing it with his fingertip.

“Fuck, Mando.” You breathe out.

“My name is Din.” He says sweetly as he pushes a finger into your wetness.

“Din…” you moan, opening your eyes again, looking down at him.

“You look so good like this. Feel so good.” He groans, thrusting his thick finger in and out of you slowly. “So fucking wet for me.”

You nod frantically, grinding down against his hand. “All f- for you.” You whine.

“I know, sweetheart.” He hums and pushes a second digit into you.

You gasp and brace yourself, hands on his chest. If he keeps going like this, you’re going to cum on his fingers.

He starts thrusting them faster, making them dip deep inside of you each time. You dig your nails into his skin, “Oh, Maker, yes.”

Din growls up at you, his hips bucking once to remind you how aroused he was. He continues fucking you with his fingers, getting you closer.

“Gonna- I’m gonna cum.” You breathe out, jaw dropping.

“Cum for me, baby. Come on, you can do it.” He coos, encouraging you.

You squeeze around his fingers as your orgasm hits you, cumming hard and whining his name.

“Fuuuck.” He sighs, working you through your euphoric high.

After a few moments, his fingers slow down and eventually stop, pulling out of you.

His free hand lifts his helmet just enough for you to see his chin, then his fingers covered in your slick come up to his mouth. He sucks on them for a minute, moaning around them and rolling his hips against yours.

“Maker.” You gulp. He has fairly groomed facial hair. Not too much, not too little. You wondered if he’d ever take the helmet all the way off for you. But for now, you were satisfied with this.

He pulls his fingers away and lowers his helmet once more. “Knew you’d taste good.”

You bite your lip and smile softly.

“Take off the rest of your clothes, sweetheart.” He rubs your cloth covered thighs.

You nod and get up for a moment, quickly getting naked. You watch him as he pulls out his cock and strokes it a few times. You almost gasp at the sight of it. It’s a beautiful cock, you think.

Din pats his hips at you, “Come sit.” He hums.

You gulp and nod, climbing back on top of him. You hover for a moment as he lines up against your entrance. Then you sink down onto his hardness.

“Oh, fuck.” You let out a broken moan, lasting until you were fully seated on him.

“You’re so tight.” He’s panting, gripping your thighs as he watches you.

This was probably the most perfectly full you’ve ever felt. No other person or even toy could compare to how this felt right now. He was throbbing inside you as you lifted your hips and then pushed down once more.

His short nails managed to dig into your thighs as you did this, leaving little crescent moon shapes. You bit back a moan, starting a medium pace of thrusting your hips up and down.

He held onto you like you were going to float away if he didn’t. His head was tilted back right now and you could see his beautiful Adam’s apple and the edges of his sharp jaw. Maker, you wanted to kiss it.

You plant your hands on his ribcage, supporting yourself as your body rolled on top of his. You lean down and press your lips to his collarbone and he shivers.

“You okay?” You look up at him.

“Haven’t- fuck… haven’t been touched in so long.” He breathes out.

“Like I said earlier…” you trail off, kissing his neck. “Let me take care of you.”

Din whines as you start to thrust down on him harder, barely nodding in response so his helmet didn’t hit your head with how close you were.

He’s almost shaking now, holding onto you tightly. One hand breaks away from your leg, reaching to the buttons on the wall inside the compartment. He shuts the door and then turns out the light inside.

“Woah, I cannot see anything.” You laugh a little.

“That’s the idea.” He says and you feel his arms reach up, take off his helmet and set it down by his head before grabbing your face and pulling you up to kiss him.

You whimper into his mouth, pussy squeezing around him. You’re both panting into each other’s mouths, tongues swirling and lips teasing each other’s.

“Din, you feel so good.” You whine and kiss him hard.

He kisses back just as enthusiastically, one hand moving down your back to grab your ass. The other hand finding your clit and rubbing it in circles with two fingers.

You groan against him, thrusting faster and rubbing down against him. You feel your thighs start to shake as your second orgasm gets closer.

“Not yet.” He moans into your ear, sucking your earlobe into his mouth. Your eyes roll back in your head as you try to keep from cumming too soon.

“Almost.” He reassures you and kisses your neck, his facial hair making you tingle delightfully.

“Fuck.” You whine into his ear, not knowing how much longer you could go.

His hips start bucking up in time with yours, pushing somehow even deeper into you. “N- now.” He sighs as his cock twitches and he releases inside you.

As he fills you, your body goes into overdrive, second wave washing over you. “Din-!” You gasp, slamming down onto him hard.

He grunts as he fucks up into you, both of you gradually slowing. Once you’re both stopped, you stay on top of him, warming his cock.

“We should’ve done that weeks ago.” You sigh happily.

Din’s chest vibrates as he laughs softly. It’s the first time you’ve heard him laugh without the modulator in his helmet and you could really imagine getting used to it. But you tried not to get too far ahead of yourself.

“We only met a few weeks ago.” He hums.

You kiss him sweetly. “I know.”

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holycryptid · 1 year

Text

The Spaces Between Walls

Din Djarin/The Mandalorian x AFAB!reader (no pronouns/gendered language).

Explicit content (18+)

Word count: 2.1k

Tags/warnings: (unprotected) shower sex, oral sex (reader receiving), fingering, teasing/edging, explicit language, creampie, pussy play (let me know if anything was missed!).

Summary: (In)correct use of a shower. That’s it. It’s only shower sex. No plot.

Notes: yes this trope has been done to death and no i do not care. writing is not always that serious :) happy s3!

Din gives a hard suck to your clit, making your thighs jerk against his head unwillingly.

He keeps a firm grip on the underside of the thigh that rests over his shoulder as he kneels on the hard flooring of the ‘fresher, keeping you tight against the slick durasteel that encases you.

You press your hand firmly against the wall on your left, failing at saving you from shaking too much. The other gently tugs and combs through Din’s wet, overgrown hair in appreciation.

He lets his tongue glide over your cunt a few times, from your hole to the tip of your clit. The steam from the hot water slightly obscures his gaze, but he finds your own as he purposefully closes his soft lips around your swollen clit again.

“Please. Please, please, please,” you chant in a whisper, gladly allowing your aching cunt be massaged by his warm mouth and firm tongue.

Water droplets bounce off his shoulders and mix with the spit that coats your pussy. He kneads the flesh of the underside of your thigh a few times to calm you, feeling how your hole flutters against the tip of his tongue as he teasingly prods at you.

“Ah, f-fuck. Fuck,” you gasp, head snapping forward as he forcefully rolls his tongue flat over you, using his unoccupied hand to spread your lips further apart.

And he buries his mouth into you. His nose bumps your clit as he teases your entrance a few times, tasting your wetness eagerly.

The inconsistent stimulation makes your stomach and thighs tense on their own accord, and you harshly pull on a few locks of his hair, making him grunt and detach from your needy cunt.

Your cheeks burn, and you can’t tell if it’s from the steam engulfing you or your arousal at this point.

Your thighs gently quiver from the loss, and Din looks over your pussy for longer than you’d like him to. He watches a string of your slick and his spit drip down slowly from your core, and his cock pulses at the sight. Another rush of blood flowing to the already leaking and flushed tip you can see bobbing between his legs.

He’s teased you with many fleeting licks and kisses, and now you’re desperate for some unyielding relief. Anything.

You let your eyes fall shut as you rest your head back against the hard steel, trying to manage your breaths that are becoming increasingly more shaky the longer he drags this out.

“Din, please—it hurts,” you whine with some exaggeration, hoping he’ll show some mercy when you give your best pleading eyes.

“I know, baby, I’m sorry,” he purrs against you, making one last firm pass of his tongue between your folds. His eyes hold their contact with yours, and you become lightheaded when he lets the tip firmly flick your clit.

“Oh—fuck o-off,” you chuckle, mindlessly wiping sweat, or water, from your brow. He smiles softly, placing a gentle kiss to your puffy clit before carefully moving your leg off of his shoulder.

There’s just barely enough room for both of you in here, but his grip stays on you, though, making sure you can hold yourself as he lifts himself from the ground with a huff.

You tilt your head to try and meet his sudden height. “You’re so mean,” you sigh, scrunching your brows, hoping to make him feel just a little bad for denying you.

He smirks half-heartedly. “Yeah?” A quick finger slips through your wet folds, and you stretch onto your toes at the satisfying pressure with a surprised squeak.

“Well, you’re wet,” he taunts, dark eyes watching how you try to squirm out of his teasing hold, but there’s no where to go.

The closeness of him makes the air even thicker around you. Drops of water fall from strands of his hair that hang off his forehead, and they come down onto your chest; plunging down to where you run hotter than what flows from the shower-head.

His finger just barely breaches your entrance, but it’s enough to make you latch onto his forearm tightly to brace yourself. He leans over, letting his head hang next to yours, and his mouth stops right beside your ear.

“I wish I could have you like this every time,” he admits quietly, pushing his finger in the rest of the way with ease.

Your back curves with a choked gasp to accommodate the intrusion, and your drenched chest meets his. He brings his other arm around your back, placing his hand on the middle of your spine to keep you against him as he leans you both back onto the wall.

You let your hands travel from his arm and up to his shoulders to make room for his wide presence.

“Y-you can,” you stutter out as he presses his thumb to your clit.

He lightly presses a small kiss underneath your ear, leisurely pulling his finger halfway out as he firmly starts rubbing his thumb over you in random motions.

“You should,” you state firmly with a tight whine. Your cunt hugs onto the single finger for dear life, hopefully showing him how badly you need his cock instead.

The stretch is nothing compared to what you’re used to, but it’s still able to satisfy the steady throb in your core for the time being.

Din suddenly drags his tongue down your neck, humming with satisfaction from your answer, and your hips buck against his hand when he rubs against the responsive spot inside you.

He chuckles darkly, kissing back up your neck and pulling away from you. “Found it.”

His cock slides up against your stomach and rests in-between your bodies as you arch into him again, pulling your lip between your teeth with a groan. “Mm, m-more—please,” you nod your head.

Your heavy eyes find his focussed ones just as he pushes the finger deep into you again, rubbing hard circles into your clit simultaneously with an entertained smirk.

His heavy length lies against your stomach as you keep your lower half close to him, trying to get as much stimulation as you can without grinding onto his hand pathetically.

Small whimpers tumble from your lips each time his hand retreats and returns it fully into your wet heat just as fast. You might not have much time left with the warm layer of steam that swirls around your bodies, or the sporadic shower of feverish water over you. You need things to move along faster.

Din’s eyes flicker between your own and his tolerant fingers continuously, letting the jerky yet precise movements pull more moans and arousal from you.

Your thighs ache viciously from the need for release, jaw hanging open to pull in more air, compensating for the tiring of your contracting muscles.

“The water will get cold s-soon,” you pant, gripping onto his shoulder cruelly, your fingers biting into his firm shoulders.

It was a poor attempt to ask for his cock, essentially. But your effort doesn’t go unnoticed. Yet you decide to push him even further by hitching one knee over his hip, letting him have better access to your dripping centre as you open yourself up.

A small laugh rumbles through his chest, and he slows his wrist when your leg settles around him.

“Then I guess we better hurry,” he prompts, letting his mouth find yours quickly as he pulls his finger from you.

He drags that hand to the underside of the thigh that tries to pull him closer, and the other leaves your back for a moment, moving his cock from your stomach and letting it slide down through your folds, perfectly hitting your clit on its journey as it presses against your hole.

Din’s mouth distracts you as he adjusts himself, and he never falters his movements. His controlling lips slot between yours forcefully, slipping his tongue past your teeth at the same time he enters you easily.

You cry out against his mouth as he pushes his hips up into you mercilessly. His stubble rubs against your lips slightly when he reaches his end; his height now uneven with your own as he makes your cunt swallow the entirety of his cock.

“Fuck—that’s not gonna work,” Din thinks out loud, offering a lingering kiss to your jaw before running the hand on your back down behind your other thigh.

He leans down just enough to be able to kiss his way back up your chest as he hooks your leg and hoists you up, letting your ankles lock behind his back.

You bounce deeper onto his cock as he brings you up, and you both gasp sharply at the unfamiliar angle. Your weight makes you sit fully on him, and it’s almost too much. Almost.

He keeps his chest pinned against yours and your back pinned against the wall as he straightens again, almost leaning his full weight into you. This eases the strain on his shoulders and arms, because you know that in a few minutes, he won’t be able to manage with that.

“Yeah—that’s better,” you breath, your cunt burning from the quick stretch as you wiggle your hips to ease it.

Din hums, eyes closing for a split second at the relieving sensation before he claims your mouth again. You welcome it, stray drops of water mixing in when you part to readjust.

He starts thrusting softly when he feels your body relax into the wall, and he consumes your startled moans with his lips and tongue.

Holding you in place, Din rolls his hips into yours at an even pace, letting you feel every ridge and curve his cock possesses.

You whine continuously deep in your throat, feeling overwhelmed by him. His hands kneading your ass harshly, his lips sucking your bottom lip between his teeth, his cock piercing your throbbing core.

You break away unintentionally when he changes the pace, now snapping his hips roughly into you, and the euphoria that washes throughout you makes your forehead fall against Din’s shoulder.

He lets out a soft groan at the shift, burying his face in your neck and biting into the skin at the base before sucking gently.

“Feel so fucking g-good,” he murmurs, licking over the new mark and collecting tiny water droplets that have landed across your skin from above.

You whimper in response, cunt clenching as another wave of pleasure rips through your core and down your thighs. The warmth of his body is dizzying, and he presses you tighter against the steel with each precise and deft thrust.

Your body aches with a desperation that grows stronger with each second that passes, and Din fucks himself deeper into your dripping pussy when he feels your legs hug him tighter.

His shoulders start to quiver. A sign that he’s close, too.

The heavy breaths he exhales fall into earshot, and you hear the short, tight whines that quietly follow each time he fully sheathes himself in your heat.

“Din—baby—” You plead, pulling away from his shoulder and pulling his face from your neck.

You nudge your forehead against his, letting him rest against you as he slowly loses himself within your burning, wet cunt.

His eyes are clamped shut, brows drawn together as he focuses on the mounting pleasure. You cup his jaw gently, pulling his lips to yours in one final, messy kiss.

Your tongue glides over his confidently, tracing his bottom lip when you pull back and seal your mouth against his.

The fire in your core has reached its peak, and your cunt pulses uncontrollably as his rhythm becomes uneven.

“I’m close— fuck, I’m close, sweetheart,” he hisses against your lips, breath stuttering with a moan when you clench around him again.

“Cum inside me. Please,” you rush, crying out a string of curses as your body tenses.

You slip a hand down between your bodies, rubbing your clit harshly to give you that final push over the edge.

“Oh, fuck. Din—l” You cum before you can put together a coherent sentence.

A shudder racks your body as an airy wheeze is ripped from your lungs, tightening everything up and making you go numb. You feel Din snap his hips violently a few more times before he pushes into you with everything has, stilling with a broken groan.

“Mm, perfect.” You feel him kiss your jaw tenderly, nuzzling his face into yours as your ears slowly stop ringing.

Your legs relax around him, and he carefully let’s you down onto your feet. His cock slips out of you easily as it softens, his cum dripping from you immediately when you touch the ground again.

You pull in heavy breaths, leaning into the wall for support. He gives you some space, letting his body slip completely under the stream of water as he rinses himself again.

“It’s cold,” he observes with a tight-lipped smile, letting the frigid water cover him anyway.

You laugh lightly, pushing yourself from the wall. You shake your head and move closer. “And you haven’t even washed your hair yet."

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x gender neutral reader #din djarin smut #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian smut #din djarin imagines #din djarin fic #long post #star wars imagines #star wars x reader

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thefrogdalorian · 2 months

Text

A Crisis of Faith

Word Count: 6052 Rating: Teen Summary: Although travelling through the galaxy with a Mandalorian bounty hunter was a daunting prospect at first, you were pleasantly surprised by how swiftly the two of you bonded. However, despite your initial closeness, the man who you were thought enjoyed your presence in his life now seems disgusted by his every encounter with you. When you finally land on Nevarro after weeks of being confined to the Razor Crest together, you hope that perhaps, something might fix your fractured relationship... Content Warnings: Din is mean and gets drunk. Slightly rough with header, shoves them away/leans over them and raises a finger to stop you from speaking but it's clear you're not physically injured by his actions and are somewhat excited by it. Kissing. Physical appearance/gender of reader is not specified but Din calls them mesh'la (beautiful in Mando'a). Author's Note: This was inspired by the line "You're a crisis of my faith," in Would've, Could've, Should've by Taylor Swift. The song is quite different in tone to this fic but I just imagined what it would be like if Din was ever pushed to a breaking point of his faith before meeting Grogu. This was the result and I regret nothing. Thanks to @decembermidnight for some words of encouragement while I was writing this one, I appreciate it!

✯ My Masterlist ✯ Read on AO3 ✯

The metallic clangs of footsteps hitting the rungs of the ladder as your travelling companion descended from the cockpit caused you to look up momentarily from the holodrama you had been quietly watching. As he approached the bottom of the ladder, you fixed your eyes back on the holopad that was propped up against your knees. You sighed deeply. There was a time when Din Djarin’s presence had not made you feel thoroughly miserable and tense. But those moments were long gone.

You didn’t move your eyes to meet his steely gaze as his footsteps approached you in the semi-darkness of the hull. Instead, you focused so intently on the bright screen propped against your knees, which was currently playing a cheesy holodrama, that your eyes began to burn under the strain.

Before you had begun travelling with Din, you had scoffed at people who occupied themselves with such corny forms of entertainment, finding them melodramatic and hollow. Since spending weeks hurtling through hyperspace with no human contact aside from your bounty hunter boss, you had reneged on your aversion to holodramas. You discovered that they provided welcome relief both from the monotony of hyperspace and your constant rumination over precisely what it was you had done to drive such a wedge between you and the man whose footsteps were now getting uncomfortably close to your favoured position to relax in.

You felt yourself tensing up as he approached. You had retreated to your favourite little nook on the Razor Crest after showering, hoping that he would leave you alone. It was your little sanctuary, your haven away from the tenseness that lingered in the air between the pair of you. Over the past few weeks, you were pleased that you had created somewhere like this to withdraw to. Although Din was fairly neat and organised by nature anyway, you had still helped to tidy the Razor Crest when you first came aboard, organising various objects which cluttered the hull into several large crates. When pushed together and covered in a blanket and pillow, you discovered that you had created a secluded little alcove where you could relax in your own space. So, after you had taken a shower, you perched yourself on your favourite crate and launched yourself into the cheesy drama that was currently playing out on the screen in front of you. It was a welcome distraction from the turmoil in your own life.

Turmoil that was impossible to ignore any longer, as the looming presence of Din Djarin towered over you, cutting over what little light was reaching you. He did not even have the courtesy to speak one as he stood there wordlessly, hovering over the crates you were sprawled across. You huffed in frustration. Recently, the onus was always on you to begin a conversation. His abrupt change in behaviour towards you made it difficult to believe that he had once been so talkative and forthcoming in his interactions with you. It devastated you all over again to think of the contrast between those happy memories and the tension of the present. The times when Din and you would sit together, chatting for hours about anything and everything as you flew through the stars together were long gone.

“Can I help you with something?” you finally asked, your voice belying your frustration.

“Came down to use the fresher. Didn't know you were awake,” Din mumbled.

You swallowed thickly, feeling your eyes sting with tears at his words. He was so brazen in admitting to you how keen he was to avoid you, that you wondered what in the galaxy you had ever done to him, to have him treat you this way.

“Oh,” you breathed, struggling to maintain your composure in the face of such harsh words. But you were utterly determined not to show any signs of weakness. After all, wasn’t that what he wanted? To hurt you?

It was difficult to believe this was the same man you had met all those months ago. When you had first started travelling with The Mandalorian, Mando as you knew him then, you had – to your surprise – quickly bonded with the mysterious man who had hired you for your services. Mando had wanted to hire you due to your expertise in navigation and ship maintenance. While he was the muscle, bringing in numerous high-value targets, you were his assistant, taking care of everything not related to the bounties he brought back. You were discreet, never asking questions about the nature of his work. You just knew that he needed to bring as many back as possible, to pay off the loan he had taken to afford this magnificent ship: the Razor Crest.

Aside from his line of work, though, in the early days, Mando was surprisingly happy to talk to you about anything. You sensed that before you came aboard he had been somewhat lonely as he led a solitary existence, barely speaking to others and hiding behind his armour. He still hid behind his armour to some degree, of course as he had never removed his helmet in your presence. It was a matter you were never to discuss, aside from him explaining that he would never remove it in front of you. Although you were curious about what he looked like, you respected his reasons for keeping his helmet firmly fixed to his head. Whatever they may be.

Even though you had never seen his face, the two of you had quickly become close in the isolation of hyperspace. Perhaps, even friends. You listened intently as he told you details about his life; the loss of his parents and his subsequent adoption by Mandalorians. Mando even entrusted you with his real name: Din Djarin. To demonstrate that level of trust in you meant a great deal and you delighted each time the syllables rolled off your tongue. The name Din Djarin gave you a thrill each time you said it, sending a shiver along your spine. It was a strong name, one that fit him perfectly.

You did not yet know it, but the night Din had given you his name was also the night everything changed. It was the last night you shared the closeness with him that you had come to appreciate during the months you had travelled together. It spelt the beginning of the end. Ever since then, Din had inexplicably taken a step back from you. He pulled away, retreating into the quiet, solitary figure that you had first met. It had been weeks since he had had a conversation with you that lasted more than a few words.

Din had seemed increasingly distant and withdrawn and it was abundantly clear that you were the cause of his sudden change of heart. He had not even tried to hide the fact that he was keeping away from you on purpose. It felt as though he was disgusted by your presence. You did not have the faintest inclination of what you had done to make him feel this way. You exhausted yourself by racking your brain for answers that never seemed to come. You were consumed by grief. You missed him. His company had been one of the few things keeping you sane.

Despite his intimidating presence, you had discovered that there was a certain warmth to him that he displayed when it came to interacting with you. The times he had made you laugh so hard that your ribs hurt, the way he had taught you words of Mando’a and how to polish his armour. There was even one occasion where he had taught you to wield a blaster, in case of emergencies. You could never forget how Din’s strong arms snaked their way around your waist, how safe and protected you had felt in his embrace. You remembered in aching detail the touch of the soft, smooth leather of his gloves as he held your hands with such aching tenderness, in an attempt to steady your grip on the weapon. Although, if anything, it only made your hands shake more.

That warmth and gentleness were gone now, replaced with the cold, hard version of him that was standing before you. This Mandalorian was unrecognisable to you. There was no way he could be the same as your sweet Din. Your Din who never hated to be alone with you. Who treasured your presence, rather than treating it as offensive. Now, Din spent most of his days in the cockpit, hiding away from you. He only descended the ladder to use the fresher or prepare some ration packs when you were in your bunk, behind a pneumatic door. That was how most of the trip to Nevarro had been. Until now, as he hovered over you.

“Well, you should know we’ll be landing in Nevarro soon,” The sound of his deep, raspy voice tore you from your ruminations.

“Okay,” you nodded, eyes remaining firmly trained on the holodrama.

“While we’re on Nevarro, I have some matters to attend to. I’d prefer it if you stayed here on the ship, but I can’t force you to. You’re not my slave,” he shrugged.

Then, Din turned away from you and retreated to the ‘fresher, leaving you heartbroken in his wake. But you were determined not to sit there and pine after him. You would not allow yourself to dissolve into tears in a place where he could potentially see the impact he was having on you.

You promptly pushed yourself up off the crate and walked on trembling limbs towards your bunk. You hastily sealed yourself behind the pneumatic door of the only small space that was truly yours, sequestering yourself from the anguish that lay beyond the door. The bile rose in your throat as you remembered how he had spoken to you, as though you were of as much significance to him as a speck of dirt on his armour. The tears came, then. Flowing down your cheeks in earnest. You were stubborn, however. You didn’t want Din to know the power he held over you. You would not allow him to see how much his words and actions devastated every fibre of your being. The way he shattered your heart into pieces with each emotionless utterance.

So, you buried your head in your pillow, hoping it muffled the way you cried yourself to sleep. You wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing just how much he could upset you.

The worst part of the whole predicament was that you had realised you had fallen in love with him…

✯ ✯ ✯

The loud clunk of the Razor Crest as it finally made contact with terra firma for the first time in several weeks roused you from the fitful slumber you had eventually drifted off into. The noise which interrupted your sleep indicated that you had finally touched down on Nevarro. Your head was pounding. The tears that you had cried the previous evening after Din had been so cold towards you had torn through your body, leaving their mark on your fragile, shattered being. Despite how much your body was screaming at you to gulp down some water, you did not risk crossing paths with him. Honestly, you weren’t sure how much more of it you could take.

So you waited until the doors to the ship had opened and closed and the latest bounties unloaded, before you emerged from your bunk. After gratefully chugging several flagons of water and quenching your thirst, you headed to the ‘fresher and gazed at your reflection in the mirror. The person who stared back at you was almost unrecognisable. You looked utterly broken, a shadow of the person you had once been. All the spark had gone from your eyes, which were sunken and lifeless; your eyelids were swollen from the sobs that had wracked your body before you slept. Your cheeks were gaunt, your hair limp. You couldn’t believe that the same man who had once caused you to laugh so hard that your ribs hurt had rendered you so miserable. It tore you apart to know that you had allowed someone to wield so much power over you. The man you had bonded with and trusted, who you perhaps even loved, had reduced you to this.

You knew then, that despite Din’s wishes, you had to get out of this towering metallic prison for a few hours. Even though Din would be disappointed, you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You were not a natural rulebreaker, though, evidenced by the way your heart pounded as you left the safety of the ship to wander around town. Nevarro was a planet full of scum and villainy, a backwater scughole most people would not choose to visit. It was certainly not the place you would choose for some convalescence. With the beggars and shady characters that lined every street, it was not the optimum environment to repair your shattered nerves.

However, since you were travelling with an aloof Mandalorian, who appeared to be utterly ignorant of how much he was hurting you, you were left with no choice. If you wanted any air for the next few weeks, this was the best you were going to get. Din certainly wouldn’t stop somewhere more picturesque to grant you your wish. You grimaced as you stepped out. You had forgotten how stale and filthy the air of this planet was. Yet, it was better than spending another second in that stuffy metal tomb with reminders of the man who loathed you everywhere you turned. The man that you had been beginning to fall in love with before he woke up one day and decided he hated you.

Although you had hoped a day wandering around Nevarro would revitalise your spirits, you were left bitterly disappointed when nothing of the sort happened. The dismal surroundings only compounded your misery. You felt utterly trapped. If the only thing that lay beyond the confines of the Razor Crest were planets like these, perhaps a life with a man who hated you was preferable. At least you didn’t have to see such depressing sights every day of your life, although being trapped in hyperspace with the Mandalorian that hated you was still pretty bleak.

Despite ignoring Din’s request to remain on the ship, you did respect the rule he set to be back before sundown. So, when the sun began to descend in the sky and dip dangerously close to below the lava flats, you returned to the Razor Crest. You found your heart sinking as you ascended the ramp back to the ship. Back to unbearable tenseness and more heartache as you found yourself forced to survive in proximity to a man who despised you.

The Razor Crest was silent, still. Empty. Din was nowhere to be seen. You couldn’t decide if you were disappointed or relieved at that fact. You couldn’t bring yourself to care.

At least it meant you would be able to eat the food you had bought from a market stall in peace. The local delicacy was a welcome break from the bland, cardboard-like rations that you survived on while hurtling through hyperspace. It was a meal that your tastebuds certainly thanked you for.

After finishing your delicious meal, you clambered back onto the crate and resumed the holodrama you had been watching before Din had interrupted you the previous evening. You sprawled out on your favourite position in the ship, regaining your strength and finally feeling calm for the first time since you had woken up. The drama unfolding on your screen was a welcome distraction from worrying over the fact that Din had still not returned from his outing.

Despite how hurt you were by his actions, you could not help but fret for his safety. You were never sure how long Din would be gone during these visits, the times could range from a few hours to almost an entire day. But it was practically unheard of for him to be out so long after nightfall with no word as to his whereabouts. You tried to push those thoughts out of your head and lose yourself in the story on your screen. You settled in for the evening, engrossed in the story. Soon, your eyelids grew leaden…

✯ ✯ ✯

The thuds of the footsteps ascending the ramp startled you awake. You sat up swiftly, groaning slightly as you felt the stiffness of your neck thanks to the awkward position you had fallen asleep in atop the crate. The sounds were incredibly jarring to you, not just because they had woken you up from a peaceful sleep. By now, you were well used to every little noise produced on the Razor Crest, all of the little groans and clangs characteristic of the ship. This sound was different from any of them. You knew it had to be Din, as he was the only person other than you who knew how to unlock the ship. But the footsteps ascending the ramp were so irregular and uneven that it was difficult to believe it could be your Mandalorian companion. They were utterly alien to you, so unlike the careful, methodical way he usually cut a path through the galaxy.

You found yourself panicking momentarily, wondering if perhaps he was in trouble and someone else had forced him to open up the ship. Until a few seconds later when, sure enough, the familiar brown chest plate and shiny helmet of the Mandalorian you worked with stood there at the top of the ramp.

You swung your legs around to sit atop the crate and waited to see whether Din would approach you. Whether he had even noticed you. Without speaking or making a sound, he moved towards you. You were startled at the way Din lurched towards you, his boots slamming against the floor before he hit the wall with a sickening clang. The way he was staggering, barely able to stand straight, struck terror into your heart immediately. You leapt off the crate without thinking and rushed to his aid.

“Din, are you alright?” you asked, your voice full of concern as you approached where he was slumped against the wall.

“I’m fine,” was his reply. Curt. Direct. Classic Din Djarin.

You threw your arm around Din’s waist, feeling the coarseness of his cape underneath your hand. Despite his heft, you successfully managed to pick Din up off the wall. Din grunted as he threw his arm around you. You were about to ask whether he had been in a fight until your senses detected the smell which lingered on him. It clued you in to precisely where he had been. The characteristic stench of a cantina lingered in the air, emanating from his entire body. The smoke, sweat and booze of the dingy place was unmistakable.

Even though you were appalled at his drunken stupor and disgusted by his recent actions, you still cared about him. Without hesitation, you began helping Din towards his bunk. The first few steps were difficult, but soon enough you and Din settled into a rhythm. You wanted to make sure that he was alright since you feared that he had drunk too much and something terrible would happen to him in the night. You wished you could remove his helmet and ascertain his levels of drunkenness, whether he had any wounds which required bacta spray. You knew that was never going to happen. You may never have discussed his reasoning fully, but you knew Mustafar would freeze before Din would remove his helmet in your presence.

You were about halfway to the bunk when it happened. Despite the fact he could barely stand, Din abruptly shrugged off your help and shoved you away from him, as though burnt by your touch. Although he hadn’t hurt you, your throat tightened and your eyes watered. He hated you. You shakily exhaled from your nostrils. All your determination to never let him see how much he had upset you was gone. He had gone too far. You decided you couldn’t take it anymore.

“Din, please. Have I done something to upset you?” you pleaded as he continued stepping away from you, backing into the wall. Until it was physically impossible to put more distance between the two of you.

Din threw his head back against the wall, his helmet hitting it with a clunk. He sighed deeply, seemingly composing himself. After a few moments, he pushed himself off on unsteady legs and walked over to you, looming large over you. The backs of your knees were backed against the crate, there was nowhere to go, nowhere to run or hide from this Mandalorian towering over you.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” Din grunted, voice tinged with something far darker than anything you had ever heard from him.

“Din, no, I…” you gasped, taken aback by his words.

You were practically falling over the crates now, feeling the hard surface biting into the backs of your knees as you tried to back away.

“You’re a crisis of my faith,” Din rasped.

“Wh-what do you mean?” you stammered, stunned by his words. How could you, of all people, make this stoic Mandalorian lose composure like this? “Din, I don’t understand,” you begged.

He raised a gloved finger to your lips, shushing you instantly. You noticed your eyes widened in shock in his helmet’s reflection, standing there helplessly as the musky, leathery smell of his gloves filled your senses.

“Kriff!” Din swore, his last reserves of composure dwindling. “So innocent, mesh’la.”

In happier times, Din had taught you some basic Mando’a. He was enthusiastic to educate you about parts of his culture and you were eager to learn. You loved the way his voice sounded when he spoke the ancient tongue of his people. However, you were unable to understand that particular word. Although you were able to observe how his voice had softened slightly when he said it. You attempted to part your lips to speak, but Din hushed you again by pressing into your lips slightly harder with his glove. He wasn't hurting you. In fact, you found the pressure and his demeanour somewhat thrilling. At least he was paying you some attention, for a change.

“Do you know what the consequences would be if I removed my helmet in front of you and pressed the kiss on your lips that I’ve been aching to place there for months?” Din growled, his voice low and rough.

You shook your head vigorously, eyebrows raised at his words. Although you had initially been startled at the way Din had backed you against a crate, you were grateful for the position you currently found yourself in. At least, trapped between his body and the crate, you at least had some surface to balance yourself against. Otherwise, you feared you may have collapsed onto the cold, metallic floor of the Razor Crest at his confession.

“If another living being caught a glimpse of my face, then according to my Creed, I would be shunned as an apostate,” Din explained.

You sighed deeply, pulse thundering in your ears as you struggled to process the implications of his words. Your heart leapt as it sunk in that Din reciprocated your feelings. You realised that his erratic behaviour had possibly been driven by his desire for you. He wasn’t running or hiding from you anymore. Perhaps whatever beverage Din had imbibed from underneath one of the long straws you knew he used when in public had given him the push necessary to reveal his feelings to you. You silently thanked Maker as finally, Din was making it clear that he wanted you.

Yet in an instant, the hope and joy you felt were snatched away from you. Your heart settled back in your chest, weighed down by the cruelty of your circumstances. That his Creed meant that you may never get to be together in the way you both desired. You nodded your head slowly, in understanding and after a few moments, Din removed his hand from your mouth, permitting you to reply.

“Din, I don't want you to violate your Creed for me,” you asserted, horrified at the notion. “But I wish there was some way I could feel your lips against mine. I… care about you, Din. And since you stopped speaking to me, I’ve been a shadow of the person I was. Nothing makes sense without you.”

Din sighed, bringing his hands to your waist. Shivers traversed your flesh at the way he gently squeezed your body in his hands. The care and warmth that you had been missing from him had seemingly returned. Your Din was back. Even if you could never be together, at least he had returned to you. You hoped the callous way he had treated you would now be a distant memory.

“I’m sorry, mesh’la. I know I’ve treated you terribly. I’ve been too much of a coward to accept the way I feel about you,” Din breathed, his voice shaky under the weight of his words.

“Please don’t ever do that to me again, Din,” you pleaded. “I cannot take it, the anguish of racking our every interaction in my brain. Trying to figure out what in Maker’s name I could possibly have done.”

“You did nothing,” Din insisted, emphasising that fact keenly. “I am not good with… with acknowledging my feelings. How quickly I came to care for you terrified me more than any job I have ever taken. I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you.”

“Oh, Din. I was terrified I had lost you forever,” you admitted, voice cracking as tears began to stream down your cheeks.

Din did not reply immediately. Instead, he lifted a hand from your waist and carefully wiped the tears that flowed down your cheeks with the soft leathery tips of his gloves.

“I know. I’m so sorry,” Din sighed. “I will spend tomorrow and every day that follows rectifying the damage I have done. Will you allow me to do that?”

You nodded eagerly, unable to reply with words given the way Din was cupping your jaw with his hand and stroking your cheek softly.

“Good,” Din breathed. “Why don’t we get some rest? I need to sleep the booze off. Then, I swear tomorrow will be a fresh start for us. No more hiding and ignoring you. Okay?”

“Okay,” you agreed, smiling for the first time in what felt like months.

You helped Din to his bunk. Although he had begun to sober up somewhat, he was still unsteady on his feet. He slurred apologies into the side of your face and hair as he went, and you felt the way your spirit lifted at knowing how truly remorseful he was.

As you rested your head on your pillow that night, you grinned until your cheeks ached. The smile had not left your features since Din had told you the way he felt about you. Tonight, your body ached with glee, not under the weight of profound sorrow. No sobs were afflicting you, just happiness over the future that lay ahead.

✯ ✯ ✯

The sounds of Din’s footsteps rapping against the floor beyond your bunk caused your eyelids to flutter open slowly. For a moment, your body defaulted to the way his presence had made you feel for the past few weeks and seized up in fear. Then, you recalled the events of the previous night and everything felt lighter. As you lay there for a few moments and processed the sounds, you were immediately relieved to hear that Din’s footsteps were much more even and steady, as they had always been before last night. Your Din was truly back.

You opened the door to your bunk and grinned at the sight before you. Din was rummaging around in some crates, searching for something. For weeks when you had entered the same space as him, he had not acknowledged your existence. Now, however, when he heard the door opening which signified your presence, he looked up immediately. Din did not use his task as an excuse to ignore your existence. He seemed to be honouring the fresh start that he had promised.

“Morning, mesh’la,” Din said softly, “How did you sleep?”

“I slept perfectly, thank you,” you replied with a smile. “What are you looking for?”

“This,” Din whispered, drawing his hands from behind his back. You watched with confusion as he held up an old shirt and tore a length from it. Then he beckoned you to approach him.

“What if I told you that there was a way to circumvent the rules, without breaking my Creed?” Din questioned as you approached.

“Are you sure, Din?” you asked, voice filled with uncertainty, despite the way your pulse had quickened.

“Do you trust me?” Din breathed, answering your question with his own.

“Of course,” you nodded in an instant, even if his response had done nothing to allay your confusion.

His gloved hands held the strip of material up taut between them. You realised, as his hands moved towards you, cloth stretching across your face, that he was about to blindfold you. You knew you should have been terrified that an emotionally volatile Mandalorian, who had been so inebriated he could barely walk mere hours ago, was about to cut off one of your senses in this manner. A life of travelling through the galaxy meant that you were well-versed in sensing danger. On the surface, this appeared to be one such dangerous situation which you had spent your time desperate to avoid. However, the man in question who was about to deny you of your most vital sense was undoubtedly a gentle, considerate man. He was your Din, a man who you knew and trusted like no other. Your Din, who had returned to you. There was no fear or hesitation in your heart as the cloth was tied around you.

With your eyesight cut off, your hearing became more sensitive. You almost gasped as you heard the hissing of Din’s helmet depressurising. This was happening. You wanted to enjoy every second of it, every touch and sound. But it was difficult to appreciate every little noise given the way your heart thundered in your chest and resonated in your ears. You barely remembered how to breathe as, with one hand, Din steadied himself on your hip, while the other cupped your chin and turned it towards his face.

Then, his soft, plush lips brushed against yours, moustache tickling your upper lip lightly. You almost giggled at the sensation. But just at that moment your lips began to curve into a smile, Din placed his hand on the side of your neck and slid his tongue into your mouth. All coherent thought vanished.

You could not be certain, but you supposed that you were the first person Din had ever kissed. His inexperience should not be mistaken for inability, though. You were stunned by how he was applying himself as his lips moved softly against yours, conveying wordlessly the affection he held for you. With every small gesture of his lips against yours, you were beginning to understand just how long he had been holding back. He was desperate for you, a man possessed. Hungry for the touch of your lips against his. You braced yourself against him, hands coming to rest on the cool, hard metal of his chestplate.

Eventually, Din pulled away. Your chest heaved due to the exertion of the kiss. For a few seconds, you both stood there in the afterglow, unsteady, ragged breaths melding together. Din’s hands stayed on your hips, holding you close to him.

“I love you,” you whispered, without really thinking. You momentarily tensed up, fearing that you had said too much. But you felt the way Din’s hands tightened their grip on your waist, his thumbs tracing slow circles into the skin above your rib cage.

“I know,” Din finally replied.

Your mouth parted in shock. Then, he stole another kiss from your lips. This time it was languid, unhurried. You smirked against his plush lips as the turn of events sunk in. For weeks, you had been so convinced that Din hated you. Never again would you feel the closeness of your bond with him. When, in reality, he was not only aware of your feelings but reciprocated them.

“I’m so sorry for the way I treated you,” Din whispered, as his gloved thumb stroked your cheek tenderly. “I was scared by my feelings for you. No one has ever made me feel this way before. I didn’t think anyone would ever make me feel this way. That was until I met you, mesh’la.”

“I was terrified I had done something to offend you,” you admitted.

“Never. You are the greatest thing that has ever happened to me. Your presence in my life is a gift. I am sorry for not making you feel that every day.”

You almost burst into tears at his words, utterly floored by his sheer sentimentality. You knew there was a gentle, caring man underneath all that armour. He may have disappeared temporarily, but there was no doubt that he was back now.

“Is there anything I can do to make it up to you, mesh’la?” Din spoke again when you were too overwhelmed by his words to reply.

“You can start by telling me what mesh’la means,” you smiled. “Then, perhaps another kiss.”

“Beautiful,” Din sighed, “It means beautiful, in Mando’a.”

“Oh, Din,” you whispered, as you leaned in for another kiss. This time, your hands came to cup his face, delighting in the scratchy stubble you found underneath your fingers. You could feel the strong outline of his jaw. You had never laid eyes upon him, but you knew he was gorgeous. After the kiss ended, you pulled away and held each other for a few moments.

“I love you too, by the way,” Din whispered into your hair, before adding: “Mesh’la.”

You couldn’t help but break into a wide grin. Now that you knew what the word meant, your head was spinning with giddiness. You and Din stayed that way, wrapped in each other’s arms, enjoying your newfound closeness. You would have been quite content to remain that way forever, but there was an entire galaxy out there for the two of you to explore.

You heard the unmistakable hissing sound of a Mandalorian helmet pressurising and then gentle fingers at the material’s knot at the back of your head. When Din removed your blindfold, you were not surprised to be greeted with the steely gaze of his helmet once more. This was how it had to be.

You supposed that perhaps it should feel strange to know that you had never laid eyes upon his face, but were certain that you had already fallen in love with him. Knowing Din Djarin, however, went far beyond seeing his physical features. You knew his heart, his inherent goodness despite the way he had lost himself for a while. You only knew what the touch of his lips felt like against yours and that he maintained a moustache and facial hair. Beyond those details, you knew nothing of his face. But you knew the bond the two of you shared, the nights discussing your pasts, your presents, your futures. The way you would laugh until your ribs ached. How protective he was over you.

So, sure, you had never seen his face… but you knew that you loved him all the same.

You climbed the rungs of the ladder to the cockpit, following behind Din. You’d follow him to the ends of the galaxy if he so much as asked. You knew he’d do the same in return. You didn't know exactly what the future held for the two of you as you sat back in the red leather chair of the Razor Crest’s cockpit. As Din punched in the coordinates to your next destination, you sighed happily. This was a fresh start. The beginning of the rest of your lives together.

His crisis of faith had been averted.

#din djarin fic #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin fanfiction #the mandalorian x reader #mando x reader #mando x you #the mandalorian x you #pedro pascal characters #my fics #GETTING THIS JUST RIGHT FRIED MY BRAIN LOL i hope you liked it!!!!!

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thepascalofus · 7 months

Text

Growing on Me - Chapter One

AO3

Din Djarin x botanist!Reader

Word Count: 6.1K

Summary: The Plant Species Inventory Project is a one hundred day expedition in the forests of Nevarro. You’re Nevarro’s best (and only) botanist, which is something Karga doesn’t want to risk losing. Making sure you’re safe on this years expedition, Karga hired a Mandalorian to protect you—Mando.

Series Content Warnings: 18+ only, MDNI, swearing, completely made up species and/or irl species instead of canon ones, inaccurate descriptions of Nevarro (it has forests instead of lava plains), lots of biology and environmental stuff (I promise I won’t go too deep with it [i have a bio degree]), 70% strangers/30% enemies to lovers, semi-slow burn, lots of tropes (because what are tropes if we don’t use them am I right?), canon violence, eventual SMUT, eventual FLUFF, reader is described as gender neutral as possible but has female sex organs and is occasionally referred to as a girl, no Y/N, hurt/comfort, happy ending guaranteed!

A/N: I have had this idea brewing in my mind for a while now. I’m so happy to share this with all of you. I truly love the topic I went to school for (biology), so this is mostly for me, oops. There will be lots of biology related stuff in this series, but I promise it will be “comprehensible”, not textbook jargon. Every single like, reblog, comment, smoke signal (that’d be a fun one), and ask truly means the world to me. Sharing my writing is a new thing for me and I’m enjoying it so far. Alsssoooo, I’m planning for this fic to be a long(er) series.

Leaves crunched underneath your hiking boots with every step you took into the forest. Further and further in, green soaked into your vision and found its home. The forest was moderately dense. Trees of various shapes and sizes were scattered throughout the land. Distances between tree trunks varied, but gaps still allowed for traversion.

The understory was spectacular. Biodiversity could be defined in a dictionary, and a picture of this landscape would take up two and a half pages. Tall, leafy plants with elongated petioles and broad leaves gave the small shade plants cover. Tiny collections of different mosses littered the surfaces of landlocked rocks. Vines found their way up tree trunks and retreated back down, hanging from branches as thick, green ropes.

Light peeked in from the gaps in the forest canopy. Small lizards basked on rocks where the light shined especially bright. Happy, buzzing pollinators made their way from flower to flower in search of sweet nectar.

The light also reflected off of Mando’s silver beskar, and right into your eyes.

You squinted at the white splotches that harassed your vision. In response, you turned your head and ignored the man that stood in the corner of your eye. Your feet continued to weave between plants, careful not to break too many with your steps. With each step, the brown rucksack on your back bounced against your torso and your blaster patted against your thigh.

Karga lent you the rucksack to hold the maps and forms needed for the expedition. It was one hundred days out here. You’ve done longer land surveys and experienced plenty of joy from doing them. But you were with your university mentor then.

Now you’re with Mando.

Karga insisted that the Mandalorian come with you. You sauntered into his office this morning to retrieve the rucksack and its contents, and were met with two men instead of just the High Magistrate himself. Karga pulled you aside and told you to, “think of him as more of an assistant,” but you knew he truly hired the man donning beskar to protect you.

You rolled your eyes in response, but thanked Karga nevertheless. The Plant Species Inventory Project was in its third year, and you were on your third year of running it. Every year you hiked through the surrounding forests of Nevarro for one hundred days to document the species of the forest.

But last year you had to stop early due to receiving a venomous bite from a lizard. Karga called in an airlift and had you rushed to the hospital. The doctors said that if you had arrived five minutes later, you would’ve been dead.

This year, Karga decided that your knife and blaster weren’t good enough against lizards. Instead of getting you better self defense tools, he bought a Mandalorian to protect you. From the lizards.

Right before you passed another rock with a lizard sunbathing on its peak, Mando made his way over to you and put his body between you and the rock. You huffed in response. The lizard had brown, pointy skin with splotches of blue along its back.

“That one is harmless, Mando,” you deadpanned to the man.

“Yeah? How do you know?” He quipped in response.

Taken aback by his sudden eagerness to talk to you—he hasn’t said a word to you since you both left Karga’s office—you quickly explained, “The harmless ones, Glendia ropensis, have blue spots on their back. The venomous ones, Glendia frediama, have green spots.”

Mando turned his helmet to look at you. You stared back at him, directly in his black visor. Other people have told you bits and pieces of folklore about the Mandalorians. The galaxy’s best warriors. They trained to develop their fighting skills as soon as they were old enough.

Yet, the beskar man didn’t phase you. Karga wouldn’t send you into a remote forest with a man he didn’t trust…right? You trusted Karga and his judgment, therefore you trusted Mando to not kill you.

“I thought you were a botanist?” The shiny man stated in confusion.

“I am,” you replied, “just because I know plants doesn’t mean I can’t know animals.”

His helmet tilted in a “fair enough” motion and you two continued to trek through the forest. Mando cleared his throat, “Karga said you were Nevarro’s best botanist.”

“I am,” you repeated, then continued with tight lips, “I’m also Nevarro’s only botanist.”

The man hummed, the sound crackling through the helmet. Facing forward, your gaze drifted downwards to the array of plants on the forest floor. Different leaf shapes popped out at you. Some plants had bright flowers while others lacked them.

BEEP BEEP BEEP.

Your watch went off, signaling for the first sampling. Bringing your rucksack around your shoulder and in front of you, you plopped it down on the ground and opened the sack. A holopad and two cubes were held in your hands as you brought them from out of the brown bag.

Flipping the switch on one of the cubes, you tossed it to Mando. He stood there, examining the device, while you pulled up the proper programs on the holopad. One program mapped your hike while the other helped you record the species you sampled. You tucked the holopad under your arm after setting up your sampling preferences.

You looked up to see Mando fiddling with the cube you gave him. Your hand whose arm wasn’t holding the holopad flicked the switch on the corresponding cube.

A hologram square projected out of the cubes, the devices corresponded to two diagonal corners of the square. You walked closer to the Mandalorian and the square shrunk. You walked further and the square grew.

Selecting a small rock protruding from the ground, you set the device on top of it. Mando picked up on your motions and found a log to prop the corresponding device onto.

“Don’t all of the sampling plots need to be the same size?” The silver man questioned.

You retrieved the holopad from under your arm and tapped the screen to initiate the calculations on the size of the plot. Looking up from the holopad you pointed to the screen, and replied to Mando with a hint of sass, “The programs standardize everything, so the sampling plots don’t need to be exact.”

His gaze bored into yours while the program calculated the dimensions of the plot and ran other diagnostics of the area. You raised an eyebrow at him, shifting your weight to one foot, “Do you not trust Nevarro’s best botanist?” You asked jokingly, yet with a tone of seriousness.

At first Mando didn’t respond in words, but his shoulders rose, as if he let out a silent laugh at you. He shook his head, helmet rotating from side to side, “It’s only been a couple hours, we’ll see,” Mando drawled. Light glinted off the beskar donning his head as he turned to observe the surrounding woods.

Bending down, you began to assess the leaves of the first plant to identify. The veins were parallel, running side by side to each other. Leaf arrangement was alternate, no two leaves shared the same growth point on the stem. No vein on the plant touched. They all went and came from the same direction, never meeting.

The second plant had net-like veining on its leaves. Veins crossed and morphed into each other. Leaf arrangement was opposite. Pairs of leaves pinched the stem with their petioles and crossed it perpendicularly. Every feature on the small herb met and weaved together. Each vein could only be minutely distinguished among the web of veins working together to keep the plant alive.

Stenica aparinese and Wortanum tortanumus.

The pair of you haven’t met before. You knew nothing about the beskar man, besides that he didn’t talk much. But it had only been a few hours, as Mando said before, and you still don’t feel like your paths have crossed. Even though you two have been walking side by side.

—

You completed ten samplings before you decided to call it a day. Squatting over plants and counting petals wasn’t mentally difficult, but it was physically. Knees aching and thighs burning, you two made your way through the maze of trees. The holopad glowed in the fading sunlight and aided you in finding the nearest safehouse.

Footsteps created a chorus of crunches that echoed off the tree trunks. Your gait was focused on avoiding the small, rare plants on the forest floor. Occasionally, you’d stop to get a closer look at some—having never seen them before.

Mando would pause behind you. His large hands settled on his belt, palm resting near his blaster. The helmet swiveled from side to side as he dragged his gaze over the forest. He would wait patiently near you as you took notes about the species, attempting to identify it.

“Are we good to go?” He’d grit out after a couple minutes.

You stood up from a squat and clicked the holopad off, throwing him a quick nod. The crunching chorus resumed, feet finding pockets of common grasses and clovers. Mando’s heavy boots tried to fall within the same pockets of green that yours did, but his success was debatable.

Sunlight shining down from the canopy became scarce, but not obsolete. The blaster hanging in a holster on your hip tapped against your thigh. The crunches caused by footsteps were accompanied by a cadence of muted pats.

Mando cleared his throat, a sound that choked out of the helmet’s modulator, “Do you know how to use that thing?” The beskar man asked.

You turned to face him, stopping in your tracks. You’ve never had to shoot it, the blaster hung from a holster just in case you needed it. But it can’t be that hard, right? Just point and shoot.

“I mean, yeah,” you shrugged, “you just point and shoot.” Thinking that was an acceptable answer for Mando, you turned to continue towards the safehouse.

“Just point and shoot?” Dry exasperation churned out like gravel from his helmet.

Lips became a line on your face, and your torso faced him again. Before you could start speaking, he cut you off. “You haven’t used it, have you?” Mando sighed.

You crossed your arms over your chest, exhaustion took over your expression, “Why does it matter? Does a Mandalorian need back up?”

Head turning, your footsteps resumed towards the safehouse. The holopad indicated it was less than fifty meters away. A warm shower and a comfy mattress sounded better than a shooting tutorial—from a man destined to be far better at it than you—would be.

Mando sighed and continued behind you. “What’s the point of carrying a blaster if you don’t know how to use it? If you’ve never shot it?” His helmet gave his tone a sharp edge.

“So I can look like I know how to use it. I don’t want to use it.”

It was true. You didn’t know what you would do if you actually had to use it. Your biology courses always talked about the fight or flight response, but they rarely talked about freeze.

That’s probably what you would do. You’d freeze.

“Firing bad shots at someone who does know how to use it, makes you look like you don’t know how to use it,” Mando said matter-of-factly.

Shoulders dropping, you sighed and trekked forwards. “Look, I know that the bolt comes out of the barrel and to point it at what I want to shoot. And pulling the trigger fires the blaster. I feel like that’s good enough for now,” you rebuked.

Thankfully, Mando dropped the subject, since the gray exterior of the safehouse came into view. The small building formed a basic cube of cement walls. Only a few windows interrupted the slabs of stone, and they were dark, bleak. Near the tree-brown door was the only sign that the safehouse wasn’t a long-lost monument—a glowing, yellow keypad. If you were the only humans in the forest, the safehouse shouldn’t have been used since last year.

Approaching the brown door, you dug into your memory for the code that allows entry. Karga asked you what code you wanted when he had them built throughout the forest.

That’s right! The code is your birth date.

You pressed the corresponding keys, the yellow glow bathed your fingertips in a warm light. The brown door slid open once the last key was pressed. Before you could even find the kriffing lightswitch, a crackle came from behind your head.

“What’s the code?” Mando asked with intention.

Mando must have assumed that you knew where the lightswitch was, because he continued his path over the threshold and directly into your back. The momentum from his body ramming into yours made you stumble, falling towards the wooden floors. You brought your arms up to brace yourself for the harsh impact.

And they hit nothing.

Instead, a large, gloved hand settled on your stomach and pulled you upwards. The muscles of his arm pressed against your side and burned their warmth into your skin. Suddenly, you were back on your feet and the lights were turned on.

You turned around, eyes wide in shock at the speed of events. Mando’s gloved finger dropped from its position under the switch. “Sorry about that,” he sighed.

Acting like he didn’t just seamlessly haul you back to your feet with one arm.

A feeling that was foreign—but not too foreign—seeped from your chest down to your stomach. The ticklish warmth emanated throughout your body in all directions. The same feeling you opted to tune out at while you were at university. Shit.

One guy put a hand on you and now you have butterflies? C’monnn.

Just like every other time, you blockade the warmth from spreading too far out. Mentally, barricades went up before the feeling could leave your torso. It’s better to stay focused on the task at hand.

Shhkt.

The Mandalorian pressed a button that triggered the door to slide closed.

“Um…”

Were you supposed to thank him? Scold him? Leave it at that? Your mouth tightened and you gave the Mandalorian a curt nod and a, “Thanks.”

Before receiving his reaction, you turned your back to him to assess the layout of the safehouse. A small, cozy living room with a fireplace filled up most of the space to your left. Knit blankets were draped over the thick cushions that sat upon the wooden furniture frames.

The space continued into the equally small kitchen. Basic silver appliances filled up most of the kitchen space. Simple, gray pantry doors blended with the small, semi-shiny machines. On the right of you were two doors, one you assumed contained the fresher, and the other containing beds.

Turning to your left, you removed your bag and plopped onto the thick cushions of the couch. The burning in your legs made you unconcerned about making food for dinner or discussing sleeping arrangements.

The burning—or maybe lack thereof—in Mando’s thighs didn’t dissuade him from being persistent.

Mando sauntered over to the couch you were laying on. The thunks of his heavy footsteps became louder as he grew nearer. “Are you going to tell me the code?” Mando’s helmet came into your line of sight as he towered over your slumped figure.

You groaned, “Are you going to stop walking into me?”

The horizontal line of his visor tilted in your view, signifying a, “really?” emotion. His shoulders dropped, “I just want to be able to get in and out of the houses.”

Begrudgingly you told him the code, “It’s my birthday,” you explained.

“Oh, uh, happy birthday.” He gave you a curt nod and turned to walk into the kitchen.

A small smile spread across your face, and you sighed once more, “Today isn’t my birthday, metal man, the code is my birthday.” You propped one of your elbows on the couch to look over the back of the couch at him. He stood against the small metal sink, arms crossed. His large hands grasped his biceps on each side of him. The Mandalorian made the sink look like he stole it from a child’s playset.

Once your gaze landed on him, his shoulders slumped. The T-shaped visor looked away from you and towards a map displayed on the wall. Silence ensued over the space. You too glanced at the map—yet there was nothing particularly noteworthy about it.

Mando’s visor pivoted on his shoulders and returned your gaze. After a few seconds his helmet crackled to life, “You’re getting a shooting lesson tomorrow morning.”

Your brows furrowed together and slanted downwards. “Ugggghh. I thought I told you I was good for now,” you gritted out. You let your elbow give out from underneath you and you flopped back down onto the couch cushions.

A rumbling noise came from over the back of the couch. Footsteps followed. The heavy boots Mando wore sent muted dunks your way—then they ceased. A black T framed by silver entered your view yet again.

“I’m not good with it. Tomorrow morning after you eat,” Mando finalized.

You maintained “eye contact” with him after you rolled your eyes. Instead of staying awake—sore—and putting up with his banthashit, you willed your body to get up and to one of the wooden doors on the right side of the safehouse. Bending down, you scooped your bag onto your shoulder. Hopefully the room was the fresher.

A few paces. The turn of a doorknob. Creaking door opened. A sink, similar to the one in the kitchen, welcomed you with—metal arms? Either way, you were glad to be able to get to clean yourself after a long day. The heavy backpack slid from your shoulder and onto the floor in front of the silver sink.

Turning to close the door, you look up and Mando’s stare is directed at you. An eyebrow of yours raised, directed at him. He began to saunter over to the door next to the freshers’. His bag hung from a large, closed fist at his side.

His frame passed the threshold, making the rectangular entrance appear much smaller. A heavy object hit something soft. Hopefully Mando was finally laying down so you could be left alone. You paused for a couple seconds to see if the heavy footsteps would resume—but nothing.

Relief flooded your body, giving you the idea to close the door and get ready for the night. Water washed away the remnants of soil, tiny pieces of bark, and fragments of shed leaves from your skin. Liquid that once ran dark down the fresher drain steadily turned clear. Your body was a sponge, sucking the warmth from the water into your bones.

You finished your pre-sleep routine and ventured over to the room that contained the beds. Calling it a bedroom was too homey for this space. It was more of a room bunk beds would be kept in at camping lodges. Except there were only two adult-sized beds. And Mando’s confusedly still-silver frame covered most of the bed he chose. He laid on the mattress like someone was giving a eulogy—for him.

Peeling your gaze away from the Mandalorian’s mummy-like body, you peeled back the blankets and shuffled onto the mediocre mattress. You faced away from Mando, getting a nice view of a generic forest picture framed on the wall. It was the only decoration in the room.

“Night, metal man,” you murmured. He was already asleep, why not tease him again?

The helmet crackled to life.

“Metal man earned you one lesson. Say it again and you’ll earn another,” the words gritted out from the beskar helmet.

You laid in your bed, wide-eyed. Not knowing what to say, and honestly too tired to have this conversation, you opted to say nothing. After a couple moments, you heard shuffling from over your shoulder. The helmet crackled once more.

“Night.”

Your eyes drooped once your brain knew that social interaction was no longer required for the night. The pillow beneath your head lulled your slumber closer and closer.

“Ruus,” came from behind you.

Too tired. So sleepy. You’ll ask in the morning.

—

You woke up to birds chirping. Their calls and songs came in through your cracked bedroom window. Naturally, your brain deciphered the individual calls.

Cheep. Cheep. Cheep.

Shrrrrrk. Shrrrrrk.

Ki-ki-ki-ki-ki-ki.

A common house sparrow, a buzzard, and a finch.

You shuffled around in your bed seeking a couple more minutes of comfort before your alarm inevitably went off. Mattress providing a soft cushion of support for your body, pillow delightfully cold against your face, and your eyelids heavy, your body absorbed your surroundings and let them influence you. Everything influenced you to stay the fuck in bed. Shifting in and out of consciousness, your blurry dreams pulled you further into a deeper slumber.

Dawn quickly approached, signaling for the birds to scream at each other that they’re awake. Bird calls blared through the air like tiny sirens. The rays of sunlight shone through the slits in the window blinds.

The extra-loud bird sounds snapped you out of your dreamlike state. Your gaze was trained on the warm glow of sunlight seeping into the room. Everything was natural. Ethereal. In sync and calm.

BEEP BEEP BEEP

Dank farrik. Whipping the duvet off your body and swinging your legs to let your feet touch the ground, you hurriedly zipped open your bag to find the holopad. Once your hands found it between clothes and your notebooks, you clicked it on. The bright screen made your eyes squint at the device. Clicking the screen once more, the alarm was silenced. Now that the blaring ceased, your mind began to catch up to your surroundings.

Oh kriff, the alarm probably woke up Mando. Your voice was a whisper, “I’m sorry if that woke yo–.” You turned towards his bed and the silver frame of his body was no longer there. Once you noticed his absence, you quieted yourself and listened for any noise. Nothing.

But then you smelled caf.

Your brain put two and two together. Your thoughts slowed down. After a second, you rummaged in your bag for a change of clothes and your toiletries. Once your outfit was changed, you strode over to the door and aimed to enter the fresher.

The wooden door opened to reveal Mando sitting on the couch, reading something on his holopad. Hopefully the helmet muffled any sounds you could make. You took one sock-clad step over the threshold. Then another. And another. Only a couple more until you reached the other door.

“Morning,” Mando’s speech crackled.

You turned towards him, holding up a hand, offering a quick, “Morning,” back. He didn’t say anything afterwards. Slunking into the fresher, you closed the door behind you and began your morning ritual.

Mid-teeth-brushing, you remembered last night.

“You’re getting a shooting lesson tomorrow morning.”

Fuck.

Well, wouldn’t Mando remind you the moment he saw you in the morning. You didn’t even set one foot inside the safehouse before he demanded the code for the door. Maybe he forgot. You can only hope.

The wooden rectangle swung on the hinges, opening the fresher. You stepped out and made your way to the kitchen. Before you entered the pantry covered space, you glanced over Mando’s shoulder to see what he was reading. His gloved finger clicked the holopad off before you could get a good look. Silver beskar filled your vision as he leaned forward to place the holopad on the empty table in front of the couch.

You continued to the kitchen, too hungry to care. Reaching into a cabinet, you retrieved a mug, then poured a generous amount of caf into it. In the adjacent cabinet were ration packs and miscellaneous hiking-friendly snacks. Trail mix. Jerky. Protein bars. Cans lined one section of a shelf—in case anyone wanted to craft their own meal, instead of tearing open a ration pack.

Being Nevarro’s best botanist had its perks, and one was that you helped Karga set up these safehouses. So your favorite ration packs were always in stock.

You reached for one and opened the pack, eager to satiate your stomach. Your fingers found the lip of a drawer and pulled, revealing small piles of cutlery in a wooden organizer. The same fingers danced over the utensils, determining which one you preferred. Opting for a spoon, you took the utensil and fed yourself generous spoonfuls. Hiking did a number on your hunger, plus you needed the energy.

After a few sips of your caf, finishing half the mug, and a ration pack, you leaned against the counter and observed the back of Mando. His large frame nearly spanned across an entire couch cushion. Silver donned his shoulders and traveled its way down his arms, towards his hands. He spread his wingspan across the couch, exaggerating his size—not that he needed to. The Mandalorian’s leather-clad fists also donned beskar on top of them. One of his fists flexed and relaxed in a slow rhythm.

Bubbling began at the center of your stomach, threatening to boil over into the rest of you. Heat bloomed near your face at the sight of him.

Nope. Not happening.

You peeled your gaze away from his figure and went to wash the mug. Thoughts wandered and yours landed on how Mando still hasn’t mentioned the lessons. Maybe you got off this time, you got lucky. Warm water poured over your grasp. Suds coated the shiny surface of the ceramic drinkware. The faucet let out a steady stream of water, and it dribbled against the metal lining of the sink. Soundwaves from the water traveled to your ears, which blocked the sounds of Mando’s footsteps approaching the kitchen.

You shut the faucet off and turned to place the mug back into the cabinet. The Mandalorian’s towering beskar figure standing in the space between the living room and the kitchen made you gasp in a lungful of air.

The modulator in his helmet crushed the tone of the sentence he spoke, “Let’s go, time for your lesson.”

Shit.

—

“You’re holding it wrong,” Mando stated sternly.

You sighed and rolled your eyes at him, “I’ve been holding it for, like, ten seconds. Not even.” Instead of focusing on the black T stamped on his silver helmet, you shifted your attention to the stump of a fallen tree. It was covered in moss and mushrooms, decaying. The fallen trunk with dense branches sprawled out on the forest floor behind the stump. Light could barely make it through the thick foliage.

Metal man insisted that the lesson should take place at a location far from the safehouse, “to keep it hidden, in case anything hears the blaster shots,” he reasoned. You supposed that it wasn’t a bad explanation, but the hike before your lesson was challenging. Mando guided you through the forest for so long, you thought he forgot about the lesson. But he didn’t. And this lesson sucked.

You were having more fun looking at the ground around you. A couple different leaf shapes popped out at you from below. Flowers were scattered throughout the area, and you matched them to their respective leaves, giving you quick identifications.

Mando used one of his gloved fingers to tap you on the shoulder. The gesture returned you to the present moment from your resentful thoughts. His leather-gloved hands gripped his own blaster. It was much larger than yours, yet his grasp consumed the handle of the weapon. Another broad, gloved hand covered the one gripping the handle.

Your hands attempted to match him on your own blaster. It was clear that you were struggling. Eyes in slits and brows furrowed, your gaze repeatedly shifted from his grip to your grip. Fingers stumbled to find their rightful places. Instead of giving up, you settled on something that sort of resembled the position his hands were in.

His helmet tilted downwards at you and cocked to the side, another expression of, “really?” This gesture seemed common with him. Metal clicked onto metal when Mando re-holstered his blaster. Then, his hands were on your blaster, giving the weapon a slight tug to release it from your grip.

You thought he was going to demonstrate on your considerably smaller blaster. Instead, he grabbed the barrel of the blaster and pointed the handle at you. His other hand reached for your wrist. Worn, warm leather slid against your skin. A wide palm rested against the back of your hand. Thick fingers formed a loose—but stern—grip around the base of your palm.

His hand was so warm. And strong. Every movement was done with purpose and confidence. The grip he had on your hand guided yours to the handle. Once you grasped the metal you expected him to let go, but his hold remained. Small flecks of light glinted off the barrel of the weapon when Mando turned your wrist.

Light shined off the helmet as well. He leaned down to check if your fingers were in the right places. Spotting an incorrect placement, he used his other hand to nudge a finger downwards and onto the handle. He nodded, “Good.”

The short praise sent heat flying towards your face, and you willed for it to sink back down. His thumb shifted on your wrist, giving you slight goosebumps. How could his fingers be that thick? And his hands so strong? What would they feel li—.

You backtracked in your head. Nope. You didn’t want to go there. You had one hundred days in this forest with this guy, and you had a job to do.

Mando took your other hand with his other hand, and placed it on top of the one gripping the handle. The hold he had over the new hand tightened. In exchange, your own grip tightened over the handle.

“This hand,” he tightened his grasp once more, “squeezes down on this hand,” he rasped as he shook the wrist holding onto the warming metal. Each squeeze threatened the bubbling in your stomach to evaporate into the rest of your body, but you repressed it. Managing to control your pointless butterflies, you did as he explained, and the hold you maintained felt better than it did previously.

As you raised the blaster up towards your eye level, Mando stepped away. Shutting one eye, you looked down the barrel and at the old tree stump. Your arms were both steady and relaxed. Remembering only the second half of Mando’s lecture from earlier, you spaced your feet shoulder width apart, and squeezed your grip around the trigger.

A bolt shot out of the end of the silver barrel and into the top of the tree stump—much higher than where you aimed. Crackling came from your right, “The piece of metal at the end of the barrel needs to line up with the notches above the trigger.”

You let out a heavy exhale, that information was in the second half of his lecture, “That’s what I did,” you told him. He let out an exhale in response, but his was in amusement, “Well, you didn’t hit the center,” his head jerked towards the stump to make his point.

He stood with his hands on his belt, shoulders back, with one knee out. Chrome plated armor gleamed from the sun coming in through the forest's canopy. His dark leather and clothing contrasted the bright metal. Without seeing his face, you knew he had a smirk on it.

You huffed as you turned towards him, “If it’s so easy, why don’t you do it?”

He gave you his signature head tilt towards the side, “You know that I would hit it,” he stated.

Honestly, you knew he could. The man is fully decked out in beskar armor and carries several weapons with him at all times. But you were fed up with the slight smugness he exuded. “Do it,” you challenged him.

Before you could even register he was doing so, he pulled his blaster from its holster. With a firm grip and confident aim, his blaster bolt hit dead center into the tree stump. Just as quickly as he pulled it out, he re-holstered his blaster and looked at you.

His incoming responses went through your mind, “It’s because I don’t suck,” “Don’t even bother,” “Why’d you buy a blaster in the first place?”

“Just try again,” his helmet gritted and the black T shook from side to side, “I’ve just been doing this longer than you have. It takes practice.”

Without thinking, you responded, “And what is ‘this’?” The Mandalorian gave you a stare—not like it wasn’t always a stare—but his helmet didn’t move a bit, unlike the usual tilts and shakes you had been getting.

“If by ‘this’ you mean shooting, then I’ve been shooting since I could hold a blaster. If you mean my profession, my occupation has required shooting since I’ve been an adult,” his voice stated, sounding like churning gravel.

Both of your eyebrows lifted and your eyes widened. You tried to hide it, but you probably failed. Only a few professions in the galaxy required shooting all of the time.

“So you’re a bounty hunter?” You asked with confusion, your mouth semi-dry.

Mando nodded, “Yes, now try again,” he pointed towards the stump.

‘Okay cool, we’re just going to gloss over that one?’, you thought. Instead of voicing your inner monologue, you raised the blaster once more. The metal lined up with the notch and you squeezed the trigger. Your shot landed half a meter above Mando’s. It was far from his shot, but much closer than your previous one.

“Better. But you flinched,” Mando critiqued. His gloved hands rested on his hips and his visor bored into you.

Trying again, the notch lined up with the metal as you peered down the barrel. Instead of holding your aim and then getting ready to fire, you fired as soon as your barrel lined up with the center of the stump. Energy left the end of the blaster and shot into the decaying wood. It landed about fifteen centimeters above Mando’s.

You heard crunching on the ground as the Mandalorian walked towards you. Lowering your blaster, you pointed the barrel at the ground. Maker, if he showed you how to hold the blaster again, you were going to lose it. Once he reached you, he stood in front of you, hands clasped in front of his belt buckle.

The helmet crackled to life, “Good job. Those were better than my first shots,” he stated plainly, then turned, “Let’s get going.” Before waiting for your response, he continued on into the dense forest.

—

The section of the forest you just entered was darker than any other area the pair of you had been in previously. Light barely made its way down from the forest canopy. Shade-loving plants bathed in the lack of light. Small rodents scampered from shrub to shrub, picking the fruits off of their stems. Scuttles were heard in all directions, creating a chorus of sounds influenced by food-web interactions.

Mando decided to lead the way. His helmet remained on a swivel as he constantly scanned the area. You had been this way before and knew there was nothing harmful, it was just dark and ‘scary’.

Then the scuttles stopped. And in response, Mando stopped. Which made you run right into the back of him. “Ufff!” You let out as your chest collided with his back. Rough, black fabric scratched against your face. It smelled like wood and musk, but in a good way. Did he usually smell like that or was it just the forest?

You pushed yourself off of him and stayed behind. Mando held a hand out to his side in a, ‘stay behind me’, signal. Everything froze, and left you freezing with it.

Then you felt it.

The ground shook softly. A steady rhythm of shakes became increasingly more intense. Trees sensed the waves too, as their leaves rattled above. You looked downwards and noticed that Mando retrieved his blaster from its holster. His stare was locked forwards. Almost as if he was looking beyond the dense foliage into the distance.

Dun. Dun. DUN.

Each shake caused your feet to vibrate in your boots. And then they stopped. In front of you, the large silhouette of a creature made its way through the foliage and towards you both. You squinted into the darkness in an attempt to identify the creature.

And Mando fired his blaster.

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