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joelsbloodyhands · 3 months ago

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MANDALORIAN IMAGINE

Din gets jealous when you cuddle an ewok

WARNINGS: None just Din being a jealous tin-man 😌 however if you don’t like cuddling, this is not the fic for you.

A/N: Let’s be honest, how can you not want to cuddle an Ewok? Also, there’s no way in hell Din would ACTUALLY just let you pull him up to a treehouse. That man would have you thrown over his shoulder so quick- (I need to stop before I re-write this fic) 😫 also I should mention Din probably knows what ewoks are but for the sake of this fic and my sanity, let’s all pretend he has no clue (since it wouldn’t be a surprise anyway considering how he barely understands what a Jedi is) 🤭

READER does not have a specified gender, they/them pronouns used. Reader is in an established romantic relationship with Din. Reader has parent relationship with Grogu (no gendered title used). Reader does not have a visible disability.

“I can’t fathom why you’re terrified of Porgs and not of Ewoks,” Din sighs as you laugh excitedly at the fluffy creatures bringing you random stormtrooper helmets that look like they’ve seen better days. “That was one time!” You huff, eyebrows narrowing at him as you stick a tongue out towards him. He chuckles as he watches you murmur thank you’s to the waddling balls of fur. “Yet it seems to happen every time we encounter them,” he mumbles amusingly causing you to shush him.

You had landed on Endor, finding refuge in the lush forests, surprisingly cool on this sunny planet. It hadn’t meant to happen. Encountering pirates on the way to Batuu, the ship was damaged and thus you landed safely onto the green planet unscathed. It had meant to be a quick stop until you had alerted Din to the sighting of something “small, round and fluffy” lurking around the ramp.

Din had been quick to try to deter you, his hand on his blaster as you approached the small bundle of fur, raising a sharp spear your way until you offered it the same blue cookies Din often tried to persuade you not to buy Grogu every time you went to a market. Though much to his surprise, the small creature with large eyes, snatched the snack and gobbled it right up quite happily mumbling some unintelligible language Din couldn’t make sense of and nor could you for that matter, still taking its offering hand and letting it pull you into the forest with Din at your heels and a laughing Grogu in his satchel.

Din had protested the short journey to a cluster of high tree houses, spiralling up into the great trees. The little creature had beckoned you up a wooden set of stairs. Din had taken your wrist, looking up at you from the bottom of the steps and could you see his face, you knew he’d be pouting unhappily.

“Please, mesh’la. Come back to the ship. We don’t know these creatures.”

You had understood his concern of course but part of you yearned for a detour. An adventure. You had both been travelling to and from planets, often with Din disappearing for days on end to collect bounties for credits while you babied Grogu and took care of the ship in his absence. Part of you felt too cooped up in the ship, almost selfishly thanking the maker for causing it to go to disarray and landing you somewhere new.

The small creature babbled up to you as Din’s fingers travelled to yours, intertwining your fingers and gently tugging. You looked back to him, “it’s getting dark, Din. We should spent the night at least.”

He sighed as he watched you turn back and with great difficulty tried to communicate to this brown fluff ball if they could give you some place to rest. Din meanwhile looked down at your son, his big eyes blinking up at his buir with intrigue towards his parents new friend. Din shrugged at him in response as the small boys eyes found the back of your head again cooeing.

The bug-eyed creature had brought the both of you to an empty treehouse, one a lot smaller than the others surrounding the area above. It chattered away in a language neither of you understood but it seemed to quickly learn that it was better to show you with gestures than with words. You had thanked the critter by giving it the rest of the cookies from your bag and offered up a parcel of bantha meat to cook that Din had realised you must have snatched from the pantry on the way off the ship. He smiles underneath his helmet, you were always prepared to take care of everyone.

That’s what he loved most about you.

“What do you think, Din?” You had asked, breaking through his thoughts as he lifted his head to watch you take off your jacket. The small creature had taken the parcel quite happily, waddling excitedly with it out of the house.

“Just one night, cya’rika,” he gently asserted, watching you pout but nod understandably.

“Okay but you have to admit this is pretty neat,” you open your arms twirling on one spot, your eyes looking up towards the top of the house.

A staircase ran around the outside walls, circling to what appeared to be an open topped roof with a balcony. A small table sat in the centre of the room, carved intricately out of wood with what appeared to be a couple of woven moss pillows on either side. Some woven sleeping mats and fur blankets folded neatly in the corner. A fire lantern hung from the staircase and the glow of a fire from outside the hut cast light through the doorway.

Din had to hand it to the creatures, they were rather skilled considering how dopey they looked.

He turned his attention back to you, watching you now pull out two mats and lay them side by side before folding up blankets and placing them down as pillows, setting up your sleeping space. Grogu babbled up at Din who mindlessly lifted his son out of his satchel, watching him scurry off to you, a small hand taking hold of your sleeve as he watched you get everything prepared.

Din wandered off towards the table, removing his weaponry and gear. As he removed some of his armor; opting to keep his chest piece on (just in case), you stood contentedly brushing off your thighs as you overlooked your sleeping arrangements with the small child now gripping your trouser cuff, big brown eyes following your movements. “There,” you clasped your hands together, looking at your son with delight who cooed almost understandably at your cheeriness. “Are you hungry, ad’ika?” The boy cried out happily at the mention of food while Din tried to control his exceeding heart rate that fluttered whenever you spoke in his native language.

It wasn’t your first language.

You had picked up the odd phrase here and there, asking Din to teach you the proper pronunciation. He did so with ease, not really thinking you would adapt or desire to even use it. Safe to say, he was surprised the first time you used the word ad’ika to describe Grogu when singing him to sleep one night. Then his legs nearly gave out under him, the first time he heard your sweet voice call him riduur.

He hadn’t taught you that one.

So the question was; who did teach you?

“Bo told me it means partner,” you had admitted, nervously rocking on your heels at his stuttering reaction. “Did I say it wrong?” You blushed, your lips trembling and eyes watering, worried you may have offended him. Din stepped towards you before stopping himself. If he got any closer, he didn’t know what he’d do but he knew for sure, he wouldn’t want to stop once he started.

“No, cya’rika. Your pronunciation was perfect but-“

“But?” You had interjected, your eyes now on your feet. Din could only recognise the expression as though you were waiting for rejection and that was something Din was absolutely NOT going to do.

“Cya’rika?” You lifted your gaze to his visor, “Riduur means a lot more than partner. Bo told you that, right?”

You frowned in confusion and your body shook anxiously as you stumbled to explain, “Well, she corrected me because I called you my boyfriend and she said the proper word for us- I mean, for you and what you mean to me…that word would be riduur.”

Din fell silent.

Bo you fiend, he mentally tsked.

“It doesn’t mean boyfriend, mesh’la,” Din found himself saying, thinking it would probably be best to rip the bandage off and let you know now to help you realise that you would want to stop using it.

“Oh?” You narrowed your eyes in surprise and he could see the cogs working your brain about why your friend would say that to you.

“Um, it means- well, riduur is- it’s, you’re calling me your husband.”

Your eyes widened and Din had thought he knew how red your face could get but right now your cheeks were as bright as the lava fields of Mustafar.

“It means- I…I called you my husband?” You clarified, your heart pounding erratically.

Din walked to you then silently and your eyes followed his visor until he was stood so close, your head tilted back to meet his gaze. He ran his eyes over your features, noticing that you seemed almost afraid. Not of what he would do. He knew that but afraid that you had upset him.

“You don’t have to stop,” he murmured, a light breath leaving your lips.

“What?” You implored and Din could see the way your body reacted. His eyes on your thighs tensing and the way the knuckles in your hands stiffened, your tongue peeking out to wet your lips.

“You can call me your riduur,” he tilted his head, awaiting your reaction but your cheeks merely bloomed even more crimson than before.

“Ner riduur?”

Din smiled. Your voice interrupting the memory as he met your eyes, now kneeling before him with a small clay bowl of cooked meat and an array of greens.

“Are you hungry? Our friends have cooked the meat and we’re sharing it out. They seem quite pleased. This is for you,” You offered the bowl to him. Din tugged his glove off his hand, taking the bowl with his fingers grazing your warm ones.

“Thank you, cya’rika. I’m glad to hear you’re getting along well with them,” he watches as you beamed happily at his words.

“They seem docile,” you appraised, eyes on the doorway with a finger swiping your chin thoughtfully. “Although I believe them to be perhaps territorial when threatened. They would make for useful allies.”

Din grinned under his helmet.

This was just like you. You find the good in everyone.

“However,” you began and Din’s smile immediately slipped.

“However?” He urged as your brows narrowed.

You laughed, “I did have to sternly inform them that Grogu is our son and not food.” You stood, turning from him while Din scrambled with his words.

“Ner riduur, I don’t like the sound of this. We should leave-“

“Gotcha,” you turned swiftly on your way out the door, winking at him as he let out a heavy sigh. His heart momentarily starting back up again.

“That wasn’t funny,” he poked at the meat with the wooden spork.

You giggled, “I had to say something to get you to lighten up. Grogu is fine. In fact, he’s more than fine. They actually seem to be steering out of his way. He’d used the force earlier to get more meat for his plate. I had to scold him. Not the ewoks.”

“Ewoks?” Din’s shoulders lifted interestedly.

“Yes,” you nodded, “that’s what they are called. The creatures. The Ewok species. One of them had an old book with a description of this planet and the inhabitants.”

“Interesting,” Din looked to the doorway, listening to the small sounds of cheering and clashing of dishes.

He turns back and meets your smile, immediately growing self-conscious at the way you’re staring at him. You giggle when his visor darts down to the bowl and wander towards the doorway, hovering a moment with your hand against the small weaved shutter.

“Enjoy, ner riduur, I’ll make sure our son doesn’t eat too much,” you wink and Din hums lightly under his breath, feeling the overwhelming need to clear his throat when his face grows hotter at your intense eyes.

He hears you giggling again when you shut the door behind you, ensuring his privacy to remove his helmet as he eats.

He doesn’t feel alone as he does though.

Distantly, he can hear the babble of foreign voices and your laughter as well as Grogu’s whines for very likely something more to eat. Din takes his time, eating and surveying your conversation from afar. Something he takes great pleasure in.

A few minutes later, Din stands, his mouth dry from his meal, deciding to venture to find if these creatures have anything to wash their local veggies down with.

He abandons his bowl and the hut, following the light sounds of laughter and foreign voices. In front of one of the treehouses above, Din watches the gathering of Ewoks dancing while playing music. While intrigued by their customs, a flash of green appearing in his peripheral catches his attention and he swiftly turns his visor downward to find his son waddling towards him from out of a nearby hut a lot smaller than the others.

Din bends down, picking Grogu up when he reaches for him.

His son babbles to him in a mumble of incoherent words and mando’a.

“Where is your parent?” Din says. His visor flashes up towards the party above again but you don’t appear to be among them. If you were, Din was pretty sure you’d be prancing around happily like the rest of them.

Grogu babbles again, more increasingly and Din catches the words for “in there” translated from Mando’a. His head turning towards the hue of amber glow emitting from the small hut, shadows dancing from inside.

Din walks toward the door but stops almost instantly before his boots can cross the threshold.

He’s still when he sees you.

Your back to him, crouched down, he watches as you offer your hands to a darkened corner, murmuring soft reassuring words.

Din’s heart paces.

He’s not sure what you’re talking to but nevertheless it has him concerned when his hand lowers to the blaster at his thigh.

Though just as quick as he could hover his hand above it, your hands take the smaller furry ones pulling the shaky ewok from the confines of its comfort bubble. “It’s okay,” you murmur, “see? You are safe.” Din’s heart warms, his hand relaxing at his side. “We are no threat to you,” you whisper and Din goes to turn, a smile on his lips at your tenderness towards these creatures until he sees the way you wrap your arms around the small thing.

He freezes.

You lift it up into your arms, it’s little legs hanging loosely at your side as you clutch it tightly in your embrace, swaying side to side and rubbing your cheek affectionately against its head with a small giggle.

Din’s heart races so fast, he’s afraid the sound of his pulse is echoing through his helmet from his temples.

What in the maker-

The sound of Grogu blowing a loud raspberry fills the silence.

Din steps back suddenly just as your head snaps in his direction at the door. His feet already carrying him as quietly as possible back to your treehouse, patting a jealous Grogu and repeatedly shushing him as he protests in speedy babbles.

A few minutes later and after some pacing, Din ultimately resolved to putting his still babbling son to bed while thinking, if the little womp rat could coherently speak in more mando’a, he was most likely mocking him for running away at the sight of you.

Once Grogu was tucked in and secure, (there was no other balcony from the second floor, just an arched window), Din stomps back down the wooden steps, removing his chest piece and gloves. These small creatures may run in packs but if they were trouble, Din was more than sure he could handle them unarmed.

Once slumped against the tree bark, his ears honing for Grogu’s steady breaths and satisfied with the gentle sound, he lets his eyes fall closed a moment until the growing thud of boots flashes them open again.

You still at the door frame, taking in the relaxed fold of Din’s body in the corner of the room, your eyes frowning between the sleep space you had set up and his position.

When you notice the slight tilt of his head, you put your hands on your hips.

He’s watching you.

He’s awake.

“What?” You inquire, your eyes taking in the silent Mandalorian in front of you. His body stretched out lazily, arm folded against his chest with his back braced against the bark of the treehouse.

Din doesn’t respond.

He’s still fighting the need to shift his body, the discomfort setting in at how hot his face is getting under his helmet. The words burning at the tip of his tongue not quite ready to release. He sighs and you roll your eyes in response, your tired body carrying you up to the second floor to check on your sleeping child.

Leaving the grumpy metal man to his thoughts, Din tries to ignore his desires for you, attempting to drift off to rest but getting a constant flash of the image of you cuddling the Ewok tightly in your arms. Din groans mentally at the sight of your cheek pressed against the top of its furry head, a smile stretched across your face pleasantly. You smooth your fingers through its fur and sway gently from side to side.

Din had yet to hold you like that.

Or hold you in anyway at all.

He had only recently admitted to his feelings and doing so in a rather reserved manner. The closest he’d gotten to touching you was holding your hand. It hadn’t progressed any further since. He wanted to wait until you instigated any physical touch but when you hadn’t, Din just assumed it was unwanted on your part. So he feared the idea of trying to touch you even with your consent.

Did you really want him to? He’d never actually asked. Should he ask? Would you reject him?

He’s not fluffy and his beskar is far from soft but his body can be quite warm after spending most of the day under clothing and armor.

“Din?” Your voice called out in the night.

Oh kriff.

His thoughts had carried themselves to his bed.

The both of you now laying side by side.

A small space between your sleep mats preventing him from feeling your warmth.

“Yes cya’rika?”

Din had watched with stiff hands as you walked back into the hut earlier completely unaware of what he had witnessed. You’d probably think him completely stupid for making such a big deal out of the whole thing. I mean really? Din was older than you and yet he was being completely childish.

Was he really jealous about seeing you hold another creature in a way you had yet to touch him?

“Why are you so quiet?” You questioned.

“Are we not sleeping?” Din replied, matter-of-fact.

But his question left room for an answer and he gets it when he hears you roll over, propping an arm up and looking at his back.

“You’ve been awfully quiet since I came back to rest. What’s wrong?” He feels your eyes burning a hole through his helmet if it were even possible.

“Is it so unusual for me to be quiet, mesh’la? You always said I was deadly silent.” He chuckles, trying to make light while his insides flutter dangerously.

You hum, “This is true but I think there’s something you’re not telling me.”

Din shudders and he’s thankful you can’t see the movement through his padded suit.

“Everything is fine,” he speaks.

“Why do you lie?” You’re sitting up completely now, cross legged and he can picture your arms over your chest.

“Cya’rika,” he turns back around and sure enough there you are, eyebrows furrowed, arms folded facing him. “I do not lie.”

You exhale, “Din Djarin.”

When you’re using his full name, it’s never a good thing.

“Do you remember when you told me to always share our feelings with one another?”

He sighs. “Yes, I remem-“

“Less than a cycle ago, when Grogu was sick, you took him to Peli and went to the market for medicine. You woke up early and took him. When I woke up, I was beside myself with worry. When eventually you returned in the evening without him, what was my reaction?”

“You were very upset, mesh’la,” he sits up, wanting to provide you with his full attention, knowing you were concerned. It still bothered Din to this day that he overlooked how upset you had been.

“I was very upset, yes and when you told me where Grogu was, what did I say?”

“You told me I made you feel insufficient as a parent because I didn’t tell you our son was sick and made you feel that you couldn’t care for him so left him with a friend who would know what to do.”

“That’s right. I was very angry. I retrieved my son, came back and locked ourselves in our bunk without you until he pulled around from his fever. And what did you say when I finally let you see him?”

“To tell me when you’re upset. So that I can apologise and understand what I had done wrong because I don’t always realise it. It’s been a long time since I’ve shared my life with another human.”

“And what did I tell you?”

“To do the same.”

“So that leads us back to the present, my love,” Din’s visor lifts, his heart pounding at the sweet term on your lips. “Tell me what is wrong?”

Din’s body trembles but he swallows a lump in his throat, avoiding your gaze, he lets his thoughts release from his tongue, “Earlier I saw you with one of the creatures.”

You frown but nod, “the ewoks?”

Din nods, “Yes. I saw you holding it rather tightly.”

You seem puzzled until your eyes widen, realising what he’s saying.

“You seemed rather happy when you were holding it. I just thought, well I was curious if that was something you would like to do again?”

It’s silent. It’s so silent Din can hear the rustling of the trees through the forest.

“You mean if I would like to hold the ewok again?” Your voice comes out uneasily, clearing your throat awkwardly.

“I meant, if you would like to hold me?”

Din’s jaw tightens, his eyes closing. He’s so sure you’ll reject him. Why did he even say it? He should’ve just told you something else like how he was worried about the way you joked earlier about the ewoks wanting to eat Grogu, he should’ve just-

“Would you like me to hold you?”

Din’s helmet lifts immediately. His visor on yours and he swears while his head was dropped in denial, you’ve inched closer to him.

“Speak the truth.”

Din’s heart races at your words, his eyes running over your body, you’re practically crawling across to him and his shoulders lift and drop quickly with each uneasy breath he takes.

“Yes,” it’s urgent.

It’s pleading.

But before he can say anything else, your body is curled up into him, your legs trapping his broad ones, your arms slipping under his and flattening deliciously over his aching back muscles. Your head nuzzles up on his chest and Din looks down at your bodies, realising just how perfectly you fit together.

And then you squeeze.

Ever so gently but with enough pressure to send a wave of euphoria drowning out every unsure thought in Din’s mind.

“Is this okay?” You speak softly and Din bends to it, your voice and body draped over him like the softest blanket. His arms loosen, his hands finding refuge over your shoulders, the other weaving his fingers through your hair. You’re so soft. So warm. His fingers tugging gently through your strands, sending aches through your body. Maker, how you’ve longed for him.

“Yes. Is it okay for you?” He needs to know. He needs to know if you wanted this just as much as he does.

“It’s perfect,” and then you lift your head, your mouth inches from the underside of his visor where he swears you must be able to feel his breath escaping there and you do. You have to fight the urge to lift the helmet only so far as to press a soft kiss against those lips you have yet to feel, “You’re perfect, ner riduur.”

You shuffle your head back against his chest, “I’ve always wanted to do this.” You release a satisfied sigh, “I thought you wouldn’t like it.”

Din mentally groans, his arms tightening around you.

“I..I thought you’d reject me, ner kar’ta. That’s why I never asked. I’m sorry,” his voice drips with regret. Every night could’ve felt like this.

You giggle and Din feels his whole body relax at the sound.

“Such fools aren’t we? We got there in the end. So I guess I was wondering if we can do this every night?”

Din chuckles, a finger twirling around a strand of your hair, the other resting at your hip, “I was hoping we could. If that’s okay with you?” He takes the opportunity to tug you closer. His hands working over your back now while you shiver happily at the touch.

“Absolutely,” your lips tip into an amused grin, “especially since you got jealous. I need to make sure your needs are sated it seems.” You let your forehead tip against his helmet in a kiss momentarily and Din wished more than anything right now that he wasn’t wearing it at all.

Din doesn’t even argue with your accusation. He was jealous and he knew you’d find every way going forth to gauge that reaction from him again.

“Goodnight, Din,” you giggle, reading his mind.

“Sweet dreams, ner riduur,” he gently nudges his helmet against your head in return, feeling you relax, your eyes closing and gradually falling asleep in his arms.

Din smiles, watching you breathe slow, the puff of your chest felt against his own.

Maybe he should let you drag him on adventures more often if this is how they end.

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hyperactively-me · 11 months ago

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tension

You've seen his face countless times, but every time the helmet comes off, it's as though you're seeing him for the first time over and over again. His expression is more than it's normal stoicism; it's vulnerable, raw. His big brown eyes come into contact with yours as you reach up, your fingers gently brushing through his messy curls. Din closes his eyes for a brief moment, savoring the contact. "Hi there, handsome," you murmur softly, allowing your fingers to linger on his strands of hair. "You clean up well, don't you?"

massaging din’s sore, aching muscles ... leads to ... yeah. I'M SORRY (not sorry at all) PUT ME IN HORNY JAIL FOR THIS IDC. it started off so innocent but then the horny monster came out and took over.

tags: smut, OILED UP DIN DJARIN, I REPEAT, OILED UP DIN DJARIN. established relationship

Din has no issue praising and worshipping you with nothing but love and adoration. In fact, it feels like second nature to him.

When he's the object of your praises, though, he doesn't know how to act. He's caught off guard by your doting attention, your quiet praises, your gentle touches.

The gruff exterior that comes so naturally to him becomes a bit more pronounced when faced with compliments and affection.

His usual response was to deflect and downplay, wanting to be the one in control, the one doing the praising rather than receiving it. It's not that he didn't appreciate your words; it's just that the vulnerability of accepting them was difficult for him.

In those moments, you read his body language like the back of your hand. You could see the conflict in his eyes, a mixture of gratitude and discomfort. He had been alone for most of his time in this cruel galaxy, had spent so long being self-reliant, not needing validation from others, that being on the receiving end of such genuine affection challenged his identity of being the stoic, impenetrable Mandalorian.

So, when he finally comes back to the Razor Crest after catching an elusive bounty, you know exactly what to do to put him at ease, to show him how much you love him, your riduur.

You catch his hand before he can take any of his armor off.

"Don't. Let me do it," you say gently, tugging his hand away.

He stares at you with that ever stoic expression you know he has on his face right now beneath the helmet. A few beats pass, and he relents, letting his wrist fall limp in your grip.

"Thank you," you whisper quietly, now running your hands up his shoulders.

You start with his baldric and belt, catching it in your grip as you unfasten the clasps. It's surprisingly heavy in your hands, and you're already a bit weary to take off the beskar.

Next, you slip his worn brown cape off his shoulders, the rough material scraping across your fingers. You can still feel traces of warmth around the part that was settled around his neck and shoulders.

Din stands before you, now with his baldric, belt, and cape out of the way, the beskar armor still encases his form. You take a moment to appreciate the craftsmanship of the beskar, tracing the shiny metal with your fingertips. The material is cool to the touch, a stark contrast to the warmth of his body you can barely feel radiating off his form. Din still stands rigid, hands flexing at his side.

His gaze remains steady, a silent acknowledgment of your request. You take charge again, delicately unfastening the clasps of his shoulder pads and removing the plates, and you can feel just how tense even just his shoulders are.

You set them gently to the side and start to work on his chest plate, easing it away from his torso with careful precision. The beskar plates release with a loud clinking sound, revealing the fabric of his flight suit beneath. You can clearly see Din's chest rise and fall with a steadiness that betrays the controlled exterior he presents to the world. With a small grunt, you ease the heavy beskar chestplate to the side, shooting Din a look when he tries to take it from your grasp.

"You said you would let me do it," you whisper, a playful yet stern glint in your eyes.

He sighs through the voice transmitter, yet allows you to continue your process of taking his armor off.

His shoulders sag forward ever so slightly as the weight of the chest plate is removed from his body, grunting with relief as he rolls his shoulders back a few times.

Next, you move on to his vambraces, unlocking the beskar from his arms. As you work on removing the vambraces, the sleeves of his flight suit ride up and you notice the subtle scars and markings on Din's forearms. You're careful to not drop the one loaded with bullets and other small weaponry.

Your hands move with a practiced gentleness, and you can sense Din's quiet appreciation for the care you're taking.

As the small pieces of armor joins the growing collection of beskar beside you, the room is filled with a sense of intimacy, a shared vulnerability palpable between you two.

Din stands before you now, the upper half of his body free from the encasement of armor. The warmth of his skin is more perceptible, and you can see a slight relaxation in his demeanor.

You move lower now, unfastening the straps securing the beskar that adorns his thighs. Your hands brush against his skin, and that's when he starts to shift side to side. You smile to yourself as you set the pieces to the side, letting your hands drag from the back his knees down to his shins to remove the final pieces.

Beskar greaves protect his shins, and you get on your knees to remove them. You don't miss the way his breath catches in his throat at the sight of you on your knees before him, but he refuses to move a muscle.

Carefully, you unfasten the straps securing the beskar greaves, allowing them to slide down his shins. Your hands move with a deliberate gentleness as you catch them, setting them on top of the stack of armor. Now that all of his armor is removed, you can clearly tell Din is now more relaxed, not as rigid.

His head his angled directly at you, the black t-visor of his helmet piercing through you. You smile softly up at him, pushing yourself to standing but not without him grabbing your hand to help you up.

You know what he's thinking. You know what he wants. He'll just never say it.

You press up onto your toes, placing your hands on his shoulders. His hands finally move, coming to rest on your waist as you lean into where you think his ear would be.

"Later," you whisper seductively, and he firmly squeezes your waist in his grip.

You take a step back, now turning your focus back to his leather gloves. Taking his left hand in yours, you spread his fingers out so you're able to slip his glove off his easier. The leather glove comes off smoothly, revealing his calloused yet gentle hand beneath. You set the glove aside, repeating the action on his other hand.

Din watches you with that unyielding gaze, his helmeted face betraying no emotions, and the tension in the air does anything but subside.

As you remove the second glove, you can't help but admire his hands; how large they, how strong they are. They're the tools of a warrior: skilled and precise, calloused and graceful. With his hands now bare, you step closer to him, your fingers tracing the lineaments of his palm. The warmth of his skin contrasts with the coolness of the beskar that once covered him. His hands are strong, yet there's a gentleness in the way he allows you to explore them.

You finally look up to his helmet, clicking your tongue with disapproval. You couldn't really get his shirt off without stretching out the neck over his helmet, and we can't have that, can we? Poor shirt, all stretched out. Oh well! Looks like we have to see your beautiful riduur's face!

You run your hands on the underside of his helmet, tracing the hard edges with the pads of your fingers. Suddenly, you latch onto the edges and slowly start to pull it up and off his head. Din's breath catches as the helmet is lifted, his nose twitching ever so slightly.

The helmet comes clean off, revealing his face, his dark hair tousled from the snug fit. You're met with his intense gaze, and for a moment, your own breath catches in your throat.

You've seen his face countless times, but every time the helmet comes off, it's as though you're seeing him for the first time over and over again.

His expression is more than it's normal stoicism; it's vulnerable, raw. His big brown eyes come into contact with yours as you reach up, your fingers gently brushing through his messy curls. Din closes his eyes for a brief moment, savoring the contact.

"Hi there, handsome," you murmur softly, allowing your fingers to linger on his strands of hair. "You clean up well, don't you?"

His lips twitch in a hint of a smile, eyebrows quirking at your playful comment.

"Are you going to finish, cyar'ika? Or are you going to finish undressing me with just your eyes?"

You roll your eyes at his remark, fighting back a laugh at his nonchalant comment.

"I guess I do have some unfinished business," you reply, hands tugging at the hem of his shirt.

You guide his shirt up and over his head, pulling it off his form and letting it fall to the floor. You're met with his tanned, toned chest, marked with scars, the silent stories of the battles he's fought.

You run your fingers lightly over the contours of his chest, savoring the feeling of his tight muscles and soft stomach. He shivers under your touch at the way your nails drag across his skin, pressing into it ever so slightly. Din watches you closely, his gaze never leaving your hands. With a soft smile, you lean in, pressing a gentle kiss to his skin between his shoulder and upper chest.

Din's fingers find their way to your hair, but you pull back, now grabbing the waistband of his pants. You tug them down quickly, helping him step out of the pant legs, but leaving him in his loose boxers.

You reach for his hand, intertwining your fingers with his, and guide him to the bed. There's no rush, no urgency. For both of you, it's a moment to savor, to appreciate each other in a quiet, peaceful moment. Before he lies down, you pull him down for a chaste kiss, savoring the way his lips taste, the way his patchy mustache tickles your face. As he finally moves to lay down, you wordlessly motion for him to lie on his stomach, and he complies. He settles onto the bed, propping himself up with his forearms.

You retrieve a bottle of oil from a nearby table, and the gentle scent of lavender fills the air as you warm the liquid between your palms. You straddle his lower back, and immediately Din is biting his tongue to withhold any premature sounds.

The moment your hands come into contact with his broad shoulders, he's a goner. Your touch is firm yet tender, your fingers finding all of his knots and tension, coaxing them to release.

The room is quiet, save for the occasional satisfied hum or grunt from Din. As your hands move down his back, tracing the contours of his muscles, you slowly feel the tension in his body dissipating.

Your fingers trace the faint lines of his scars, and you can't help but marvel at the beauty of the man beneath you. He finds solace in your touch, a promise that in this moment, he can let go and just relax.

Din's body responds to your touch, his tension gradually melting away. Your hands move with a soothing rhythm, exploring every inch of his back and shoulders. The oil makes his skin glisten in the soft light of the room, and you revel in the way his body looks as though it was carved by the Maker himself.

As your hands work their way down his spine, you occasionally lean down to press soft kisses on his back. The combination of your mouth and hands on him causes Din to shudder, the sensations pulling him into a deep state of tranquility. The rise and fall of his breath shifts into something more rapid, yet you don't catch on quite yet. You lean down, pressing a soft kiss to the nape of his neck, and he responds with a soft hum of contentment

Shifting off his back, you move down to his thighs and calves, continuing to massage his muscles with the same deliberate care. His fingers twist into the thin sheets of his bed, groaning as you knead into his thighs. The tension in Din's muscles seems to subside even more as you move farther down his legs, the oil dripping from your hands creating a smooth glide as you knead his skin.

As your hands move down his legs towards his feet, you notice the subtle tremor in his muscles, a sign that your touch might be affecting him more than he's letting on. You can't see that he's biting the inside of his cheek, stifling every pathetic groan he wants to let out.

You reach the soles of his feet, and he reflexively curls his toes at the sensation. A small chuckle escapes your lips, and you gently press your thumbs into the arches of his feet, eliciting a low, appreciative groan from him.

With a soft smile, you decide to shift the massage to his upper back and shoulders again, allowing your hands to linger in the areas that are the most tense from his heavy beskar. As your fingers work their magic, you lean in close to whisper in his ear.

"Almost done," you murmur, your warm breath sending shivers down his spine. "Does it feel good?"

Din responds with a throaty, affirmative noise, and you can't help but smile at the effect you're having on your typically stoic Mandalorian.

Your hands trace patterns over his skin, kneading, massaging, and occasionally trailing higher than expected. His breathing becomes more uneven, and you can feel the heat radiating from his body.

The atmosphere in the room drastically changes from innocent and relaxed to something more sultry, the air thick with repressed tension. You can sense Din's arousal, the subtle shifts in his breathing, the way his muscles tense beneath your every little touch. A playful smile crosses your lips, realizing the effect you're having on the usually composed man.

The occasional brush of your fingers against more sensitive areas elicits involuntary reactions from Din, his groans growing more audible.

"Enjoying this, aren't you?" you tease, your voice a sultry whisper as you lean down to place soft kisses along his shoulder blades.

"Teasing me, aren't you?" he growls back, looking back at you with a heated expression.

"Maybe a little." You smile innocently. "But the best things are worth the wait, aren't they?"

Din responds with a low, husky chuckle, a sound that reverberates through the room.

"Yes," he states simply, his voice catching in his throat when you slide off his back.

You beckon him to turn over onto his back, and he complies. Once again, you straddle him, now sitting directly on his hips, over his crotch. Taking more lavender scented oil, you lather it onto your hands and start to knead into his chest. His hands reach up to grip your ass, squeezing your flesh.

You feel Din's chest rise and fall faster as your hands start to work over his toned muscles. The oil slicks up his chest, and your fingers glide smoothly over his skin. You can practically feel his desire for you that simmers beneath the surface, threatening to boil over. Din's gaze is intense, and you meet it with a playful yet innocent smile.

"Fuck, cyare," he groans as his hands trail up your sides, the touch possessive yet gentle.

As your hands continue their ministrations on his chest, you lean down to capture his lips in a searing kiss. The taste of his mouth is intoxicating, and Din responds with a hunger that surpasses your own. His hands tighten on your hips, pulling you to grind you down over his crotch, and you can feel the pressure of his cock against your core.

"Easy there, Din," you murmur as you pull away from his lips. "We've got plenty of time."

The sound of his name rolling off your lips never gets old to him, and he shudders at the sound.

You sit back, your hands now trailing down his abdomen as you move to sit in between his thighs. Grabbing his hands, you knead into his palms with your thumbs, maintaining an eye contact that you know drives him absolutely crazy. Din's eyes are dark with arousal, and he watches you with a hunger that sends shivers down your spine.

Eventually, you finish the massage after you feel the tension fully dissipate from Din's body. He lies there, relaxed and content, basking in the afterglow of your touch.

Without waiting any longer, you finally give the man what he wants. You bring his hand up to your mouth, and without hesitation, you stick two of his fingers in your mouth. Your tongue swirls around his thick digits as you maintain eye contact with him, eliciting a low growl to escape from the depths of Din's throat.

"You- you fuckin' tease, mesh'la," he growls as he starts to sit up. You take your free hand and push him back down, not letting him sit up.

You push his fingers deeper into your mouth, sucking them harder as your tongue runs over the pads of his fingers. Your other hand comes up to his thigh, resting dangerously close to his now fully erect yet still clothed cock.

After a moment, you release his fingers with a wet pop, a mischievous glint in your eyes. Din's breathing has become more ragged, his chest rising and falling rapidly with anticipation and arousal.

"Feeling better?" you ask innocently, sliding your hands up and down his thighs.

Din nods, swallowing thickly as he locks his eyes onto yours. Without breaking eye contact, you start to slide off your shirt, slowly revealing your skin beneath. Din's gaze intensifies as you slowly lift it up and off your form. Once your shirt is fully off, you let Din rove over your form, and you revel in the way he looks at you with a thirst that mirrors your own.

He tries to reach out for you again, but you stop him.

"I'm still not done. Be patient," you say gently, wiggling your eyebrows at him.

"Mesh'la, how can I be? I have to reward you; you've been so good to me, too good for me—"

You press a finger up to his lips, silencing him.

"Please, let me make you feel good. Please. You always take care of me. Let me take care of you. 'M gonna make you feel so good."

He takes a beat, studying your face with his mouth slightly agape.

Finally, he nods in agreement, his eyes on fire. You remove your finger from his lips, giving him a sickeningly sweet smile.

Your hands trail over his shiny, slick chest, down to the waistband of his boxers. Din's fingers twist in his bedsheets, a silent reaction for what he wants: more.

With deliberate intent, you dip your fingers beneath the waistband, teasingly close to his cock. His arousal is quite evident, straining against the fabric, and your fingers brush over his length; a feather light, teasing touch. He watches you with a hunger that's impossible to ignore, and you can't help but feel giddy at the way you make him feel so good, so appreciated, so loved.

Din inhales sharply, his knuckles going white at the grip he has on his sheets. You move your hands back up and delicately hook your fingers into the waistband, pulling it down slowly. The boxers slide down his legs, revealing his cock, and you discard the fabric on the floor.

You take a moment to appreciate your Mandalorian naked in front of you, vulnerable, and yet as powerful as ever in his raw masculinity. What a sight for sore eyes. Every square inch of his skin is coated in the lavender oil, his skin shining under the dim lighting of the Razor Crest. His body is sculpted perfectly, strong and lean, the power of his muscles evident from one look. The scars that span his skin, small and large, have their own story. You reach out, tracing the lines of a particularly prominent scar on the side of his abdomen with gentle fingertips.

Din studies you with a soft intensity, his eyes holding a warmth that he reserves for you, and only for you.

Your eyes trail up to his face, studying every lineament and pore, every little hair and freckle. He's so extremely handsome you could pass out.

How he chose you, you're not sure. All you know is that this man who has promised to be your protector, stay by your side, and be your partner loves you, and you love him.

"You're beautiful," you murmur, pure admiration coursing through your veins as your fingers now trace the curve of his jaw and the contour of his lips. "Absolutely perfect, in every single way. My big, strong, handsome riduur."

Din's mind goes blank, face and ears heating up as his mouth falls agape. He just studies your eyes, your lips, your nose, every little unique feature you have. Swallowing thickly, Din nods his head just a fraction of an inch, but you catch it; he's acknowledging your words, accepting them in his own way.

Your fingers finally find their way down the shaft of his cock, shifting your attention to his member. His breath hitches as your hand wraps around the base, and you begin to move in a slow, teasing rhythm. His eyes flicker to the sight of your hand wrapped around his cock, staring at the way you pump your fist up and down. Your thumb brushes over the sensitive tip, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from Din.

You lean in, pressing a tender kiss to the base of his neck, then to his chest. You start to kiss down further, from the top of his chest to his happy trail.

"Kriff..." he mutters, his hands loosely grabbing at your face.

You keep moving, now pressing kisses on the length of his member. His grip becomes sloppier as your lips trail down his cock towards the tip, pressing a feather light kiss on his leaking slit. He grunts as the sensation, sensitive and aching for your pretty lips to be wrapped around his cock. You give a swirl of your tongue around the tip, earning a sharp, deep moan from Din.

"Kriffing- perfect," he groans, his hips bucking a few times at your touch, begging you for more. His fingers weave through your hair, a silent encouragement.

With that, you finally lower your mouth over his cock, eliciting a long, drawn out moan from the man. You rest your hands on the base of his cock, pumping the bottom half of his length while your mouth takes the top half. Din absolutely revels in the way your mouth feels against his cock; hot, wet, and velvety soft. His head rolls back against his pillow as your hands squeeze tight around the base, stimulating every inch of his length. You take him in your mouth inch by inch, sucking his cock gently at first, but providing more pressure the farther down you go.

"Fuck— fuck- ing perfect, pretty girl," he groans breathlessly, making you hum in satisfaction. His hips involuntarily buck up as he feels the vibrations from your hum, causing the tip of his cock to poke the back of your throat. You choke on it, but you steady your breath enough to keep going down.

Din fights the urge to fuck your mouth, gripping onto his sheets tightly with one hand as his other hand tugs at your hair. You release a quiet moan of your own when he pulls your hair, encouraging you to take him deeper.

Din's eyes are half-lidded now, a primal need burning within them. He watches you with an intensity that makes your own desire flare. His sounds of pleasure, the way his hands feel on you has yourself throbbing with need, your core painfully clenching around nothing. Your panties are surely soaked through by now, your arousal having built up just by making him feel good. You press your thighs together, alleviating the throbbing pressure in your pussy.

You continue to move with purpose, lowering your hands to knead his oily thighs as you take his entire length in your mouth, the tip of cock hitting the back of your throat with each bob of your head. You suck your cheeks in, running your tongue along a prominent vein with each stroke.

His ragged breaths and the soft squelch of your saliva and mouth on his cock fill the room, and suddenly, Din is pawing at you. The need for more becomes undeniable, and Din, unable to restrain himself any longer, pulls you up with a sense of urgency.

"Wanna- come in you—" he gasps, pulling at your neck.

You press your thighs tighter together at his admission, moaning on his cock.

"Kriff, cyar'ika, j- just, please," he grunts, and you lift your head off his cock, saliva dripping down your chin.

When you finally look up at him, his eyes are blown wide with need, and he's fully sitting up now. You feel the sudden shift as he drags you onto his lap, his still erect cock pressing into your stomach. You push up onto your knees as Din's hand desperately claws at the hem of your pants, yanking both your pants and panties off at the same time as he mouths the tops of your still covered breasts. Once your bottoms are off, he unclasps your bra expertly, letting it fall to the side.

Once you're bare in front of him, he laps his tongue over your breast, sucking at your nipple as his other hand squeezes and massages your other. The sensation send an electric jolt through your body, and a soft moan escapes your lips. Din's touch is both possessive and tender, his free hand coming to knead the flesh of your ass.

In one solid motion, Din is lifting you up high by your hips, positioning you over his cock. Utterly desperate and aching for your cunt around his cock, he slams your hips down, splitting you open on his cock inside your dripping cunt. Your hands fly up to his shoulders, a warbled scream and moan slipping from the both of you as he plunges deep inside of you, filling you up perfectly. You give yourself a moment to breath, steadying your breath. When he rolls his hips once, you whimper.

"Maker, y- you feel so good," you moan, biting your bottom lip in pleasure.

You squeeze his cock tightly, back arching as you feel every ridge of his cock inside you. His hands squeeze your hips tightly as your hands run down to his chest, and you start placing open mouthed, messy kisses on his jawline and neck. He lets you adjust around him, giving you some time to feel his cock molded perfectly inside you.

"Take me so good...s- so kriffing p- perfect, my beautiful riduur," he growls, fondling your breasts as you sit on his cock. Your thighs press against his as you try to clench your thighs at his words, darting your tongue out to give his skin kitten licks.

Ever so slowly, you start to roll your hips against his, moaning at the sensation. Din hisses, forehead falling on your sternum, his hot breath fanning against your breasts.

"Riduur," he groans again, darting his tongue out over the tops of your breasts again. "Ride me."

Your hands find their way into his dark curls, tugging at them lightly as you start to lift yourself up his cock. The drag of your pussy against Din's cock makes him shudder in pure ecstasy, moving his head to rest in the crook of your neck.

"You- you're the best thing that's e- ever happened to me," you whisper in his ear, then you sink all the way back down on his cock.

He moans, sucking bruises onto the junction between your shoulder and neck. Din's face is flushed from your words and the way you feel on top of him. You lift yourself up a few inches and drop back down, relishing in the way he feels underneath you.

"Never thought I'd find s- someone like you, cyare," he admits in his gravelly voice, tightening his grip on you. "Someone I- I could c- come back to."

"You're m- my home, Din," you reply, your voice a breathy whisper.

You start to set a steady pace, rocking and grinding on his cock. Din grunts at the sudden change in pace, helping you up and off his cock as his broad hands help lift you up and down by your hips. With each bounce, his cock stretches you out deliciously, dragging along your slick walls with ease.

You move your hand down to your catch your clit, circling the bud slowly, building up the pressure bubbling in your core. Your back arches as you start to tease yourself, pussy clenching harder around his cock. Din's head is thrown back in pleasure, hands firmly on your hips as you keep bouncing, reveling in the way you squeeze slightly tighter around him.

Your walls start to flutter around him at the stimulation of your clit, picking up the pace as you chase your orgasm. You lock eyes with his, the rhythm of your hips against his causing him to paw at every square inch of your body.

With your free hand, you guide his strong jaw towards your face, capturing his lips in a searing, passionate kiss. You don't stop moving on top of his cock as you slip your tongue into his mouth, sucking and nibbling on his bottom lip with each kiss. His lips are warm and demanding against yours, responding with a fervor that has you leaning back.

The taste of Din is intoxicating, yet something you can never quite put your finger on. His low growls mix with your soft moans, your hands threading in his curls.

Din breaks the kiss, but rests his forehead on yours. His pants mingle with yours, warm breath tickling your nose.

"Can't believe I'm so lucky," Din grits, and without hesitation, he deftly maneuvers you until you're lying on your back.

You admire the way his chest heaves with a controlled intensity as he hovers over you, his cock still fully sheathed inside you to the hilt. Moving his hands, he presses your legs up against your chest, angling them in such a way to allow for a deeper penetration. The newfound angle sends waves of pleasure coursing through each of you, each movement building up the pressure in your lower muscles.

"Maker, Din," is all you can say as his cock reaches deeper inside you. You're utterly engrossed in everything about him; how perfectly he fucks you, how he protects you, how he always puts others before himself, how he never backs down from a challenge.

You watch as his mouth drops open when he starts to move again, pounding into you with a slow, measured pace. Every motion has your hot, soaking walls sucking him in greedily.

"Fuck me so perfectly, you're perfect," you murmur as Din pulls your legs up onto his hips, effectively spreading you wide open. His whole chest presses flush against yours, kissing your words away when he leans in.

Your hands fly down to grip his forearms that cage you under his body, nails pressing into his skin as he fucks you slowly. Each thrust is met with a soft whimper into Din's mouth as he takes his time, relishing the way your chest feels against his own. The measured pace of his movements builds a heavy tension in your core, drawing out the pleasure and anticipation with each deliberate stroke.

Din's hand finds your clit again, pressing his thick digits against your swollen bud. The added pressure sends electric pulses through your body, and your back arches involuntarily as the pleasure intensifies. Your pussy clenches around his cock, drawing a throaty groan from Din, who revels in the tight embrace of your walls.

"So strong, s- so good," you gasp, your words punctuated by your unrestrained sounds of pleasure.

"S' perfect, cyare," he murmurs against your lips breathlessly, pressing a kiss on your lips once again. He nips and bites at your bottom lip relentlessly. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling his face closer to you as you mewl into his mouth. Your fingers find their way back into his soft hair, scratching your fingernails on the base of his scalp.

With each enthusiastic response from you, he quickens his pace, the unforgiving rhythm pushing you both closer to the edge.

The feeling of his cock moving inside you faster and harder elicits a cascade of moans and whimpers from your lips, your clit being stimulated nearly to the point of your impending release. He's fucking you hard into the mattress, unrelenting in the way he wants to feel every part of you.

Din, ever the attentive man, knows you're about to cum just from the way your face contorts, from the way your body reacts to the slightest touch.

You can also feel him nearing the edge, the tension in his body reaching its peak with each stroke. His skin is warm and still slick with the lavender-scented oil, intoxicating your senses and making your mind go blank.

"Please, come in me," you beg, wrapping your legs around Din's waist to pull him closer to you. "Please, please, Din."

His skin glides against yours, your hands travel across the expanse of his back, feeling the flex of his muscles as he moves with unrestrained strength.

Din's eyebrows are pinched in pleasure, mouth parted open as he pants. His fingers find the sweet spot of your clit, causing you to nearly scream in pleasure.

"That's it," Din encourages, coaxing your orgasm out of you as he maintains the pressure around your sweet spot.

Before you know it, you're cumming around Din's cock. The first contraction of your cunt around his cock has Din shuddering from his own orgasm, the feelings of your muscles spasming around him pushing him over the edge. His breathing is erratic, hot against your skin.

You writhe underneath Din, whimpering his name as you ride out your orgasm. Din pulls you in for a messy kiss as he cums inside of you, cupping your jaw with one hand as he guides your lips to his in a searing kiss.

Settling down from his orgasm, Din falls on top of you, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

Your hands run up and down his back, soothing him with the light scratching of your nails against his skin.

The gentle scratching of your nails against Din's back seems to lull him into a state of relaxation, his body going lax on top of yours. His breath and mustache tickles the sensitive flesh of your neck.

Both of you are still panting, trying to catch your breaths from your shared climax. Din's weight atop of you feels grounding, a comforting, welcoming presence that reminds you once again that he is yours.

"Feel better?" you inquire softly, your hands coming to rest around his neck.

Din lifts his head, his eyes meeting yours with a tenderness he reserves only for you.

Din mumbles in agreement, his body completely pliant in your hands. His chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm, the remnants of his panting gradually subsiding.

"Thank you," he murmurs, eyes studying your face intently. "Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum."

Your fingers move from his neck to gently trace lines over Din's flushed cheeks, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

"I love you."

Din's eyes soften even more. His hands, calloused and strong, come up to gently cradle your face. Thumbs brush over your cheeks in a tender caress, as if he's committing the feeling to memory.

He pulls you in for another kiss, a sweet, tender meeting of your lips in the aftermath of your care for him.

A thank you, if you will.

As Din's lips part from yours, he rests his forehead against yours, and you can feel the warmth of his breath mingling with yours.

You snuggle close to him, the scent of lavender surrounding you both. In the quiet aftermath, the only sound that remains is the beating of your hearts.

. . .

Din Djarin (The Mandalorian) Masterlist

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papurgaatika · 4 months ago

Text

Pink In The Night

Pairing: Din Djarin x f! reader

Minors DNI with my work please!!!

A/N: this came to me in a moment of insanity. I love him so much. This was supposed to be less than 1k words, but I truly got carried away. Thank you to my lovely beta reader @carlynkurin! This is semi dedicated to @joeloverture bc vetty did not let me add it to the WIP folder and somehow I finished it in a day so that's neat Once again sticking with the song lyric as the title brand, it is Pink in the Night by Mitski this time LOL. As always, peace and love on the planet Earth from me, and I hope y'all enjoy !!!!

Tags: smut, idiots in love, devotion, oral (f receiving), reader’s skin is called tan and reader has a bush, no other description, semi subby Din, tit worship, lots of semi-religious metaphors, pet names (sweet/pretty girl, my moon, my sun) Din worships reader, reader worships him, soft, established relationship, tooth rottingly sweet, no use of y/n, 18+ Word count: 3.7k

Summary: A night’s serenity with Din has you enveloped in each other.

There was a moment of peace you found yourself in tonight, the sun was low in the sky, not quite setting but it had started to move west. Your toes were dipping in the small creek just beside your home, ripples ebbing and flowing with every movement you made. You could hear the coos of Grogu behind you as Din kept a watchful eye on your son. You laugh softly as Grogu falls to the ground with an unrefined oomph probably exhausted from being allowed to run around all day. You glance at Din with a smile, and he feels like he suddenly can't breathe.

God. that smile of yours. It always gets him and he can't explain why. You just felt like home to him. He moves to sit beside you, armored shoulder bumping your bare one, a refreshing contrast to the warmth of the day “Hey you,” you grin, toes wiggling in the water as you move to lean against him a little more. His arm moves to wrap around you, the leather of his glove somehow rough but soft against your skin simultaneously.

“Hey pretty girl,” he hums, voice still tender even through the modulator. His fingers run aimlessly over your shoulder, feeling the warmth of your skin. “You’re gonna catch a burn” he mumbles, moving his hand to brush a stray lock of your hair off your neck to get a better view.

You snort at him slightly, letting your eyes close in contentment as he touches your skin. “I don't burn, just get tanned” You can feel his unamused gaze, even through the helmet. You knew the look he was giving you. It was the same one he gave you when you refused to sit down when your feet hurt, or when he asked if you had eaten anything when your head ached.

“Your skin is warm to the touch, meshla” he states, leaving absolutely no room for argument. His hand trails over the curve of your neck and traces the outline of your jaw softly, relishing in how soft you are compared to him. He wanted to memorize every curve of your body, never to be allowed a moment to forget them. “Let’s just go inside, the womp rat is already asleep on the blanket anyway” You both glance back at Grogu who sure enough, had tuckered himself out all day and was now curled up on the small blanket you had set up for him. You make a small noise of affirmation and let Din scoop him up, before you bring your feet out of the water, letting them dry slightly on the ground before walking in after Din, and shutting the door softly. You watch with a small smile as Din tucks Grogu into his bed, relishing in the domesticity of it all; being in your home, watching your husband tuck your son into bed after you spent the day in the sun with the both of them. It was something you would never get over.

Din steps out of Grogu’s room, helmet discarded by the main door, and finds his eyes locked on your figure. There was so much love in those eyes, so much pain, and hardness, but when you saw them all you could feel was warmth. The chocolate brown of his eyes, deeper than any ocean, warmer than any fire, felt like home to you. He raises his now gloveless hand to skim the skin of your shoulder, brows wrinkling together a little as he feels the skin still warm under him. “Meshla you’re still warm” his touch was so soft, almost like he thought you would break if he was any firmer.

You give him a light-hearted roll of your eyes as he ushers you into your bedroom, backing you onto your bed with an ungraceful thump “Din it’s not a burn-” you laugh softly at his insistence, but he wasn't having it. He makes quick work of removing his armor, the sound of beskar soothing to your ears before he turns back to face you.

“Take off your shirt” The bluntness of his words catches you off guard for a moment, your mouth opening and closing with a lack of words.

You can see him biting back a smirk at your falter “Baby what-?” you gape at him. It wasn't that you didn't want to, you were just absolutely baffled.

“Take. Off. your. shirt,” he repeats himself, emphasizing every word. “I'm gonna put lotion on you, you’re too warm.” and there’s that smirk. You roll your eyes at him tossing off the soft tank top and throwing it in his direction before laying down on the bed on your stomach.

Din could die a happy man right now. He thinks that if the maker struck him down, right this instant, he would be okay with it. The sight of you, relaxed on his bed, wearing nothing but a pair of loose shorts, waiting for him to use his hands on you was almost too much for him to bear. He moves to sit behind you on the bed, essentially straddling the backs of your legs, and grazes your back softly. Mapping out the freckles and dips of your skin, tracing the soft tan lines, just in awe of you every single time.

He lets out a shaky exhale before taking a bit of the lotion into his hands and massaging it softly into your back, feeling your body instantly relax at the coolness of it “Is that okay pretty girl?” he whispers, hands pressing gently down your back and shoulders, feeling the curve of your spine. You nod your head, face resting on a pillow, and peek up at him with a small content smile.

“Yeah.. yeah it's nice Din..” you murmur at him, voice low and solace. You felt him continue the motions on your back, hands almost reverent against your skin, almost as if you were the beads of a rosary he was slipping between his fingers. His hands slip to your lower back and brush the waist of your shorts, a silent plea hanging in his touch. You lift your hips slightly, letting him tug them off with a touch much too delicate for someone who has been hunting bounties for years.

You coo slightly when his hands rub lotion onto your ass, his touch featherlight and tentative. “Is this okay?” you hear him ask, your response coming out in the form of a silent nod, eyes closed enjoying the feeling of his hands on you. “You’re always so soft. So perfect..” his hands continue their tender movements, hands slipping between your legs and grazing your thighs but never touching your heated core, he was going to drag this out for you. “Stars…” he admires “you’re so... perfect... so beautiful…” his words are less for your ears and more just his internal dialogue being voiced. His hands continue down your legs to your ankles and then back up, tapping your hip to get you to roll over.

You turn over, body laid bare for him. The evening sun peering through the window had your skin bathed in warmth. You looked up at him with half-lidded eyes, a lazy smile at the sight of him. Your hand reached up to cup his cheek, the feeling of his beard coarse against the smooth skin of your palm. He immediately leans into your caress, seeking more of you, wanting to envelop himself in you completely, to give himself up to you as much as he can. His eyes gaze over the sight of you laid out under him, the way your breasts rise and fall with each breath, the tan lines on your skin, the curves and dips of your body. He was going to memorize you, to be yours completely. “Can I touch you?”

“Always Din..” your murmur leaves no room for argument and sends his head reeling. He shifts so his clothed hips are pressed against you, and his face is nestled under the curve of your breast. You sigh as his warm breaths hit your skin, just watching him admire you. His hands trace the curve of your waist and his lips dip to the valley between your breasts. He licks a small stripe between them, eyes drifting shut, relishing the way you taste. Your eyes are slightly hazy, overwhelmed with the sight of him practically revering you. His lips move to press kisses over one of your breasts, lips tentative and gentle before he takes your nipple between your lips, a pleased sigh leaving your throat.

He feels a jolt of electricity rack through him at the sounds you make, the sounds he makes you make. His lips leave your nipple, moving to the other one. He hums around it, your back arching at the sensation. His tongue swirls and flicks at the sensitive peak in his mouth, his hand softly tweaking and kneading the other breast. “Maker above” he groans, pulling off of you with a pop, “I love these so much. Stars you’re perfect” his hands go to massage both of them, thumbs sliding over your nipples making your breathing tremble slightly

“Feels so good Din..” his hands haven’t stopped their ministrations, moving softly and gently as ever, taking his time to make you feel good. He grins at your words, the praise going straight to his cock, but that could wait. He just wanted to make you feel good today.

“Yeah cyare? You like my hands on you?” his hands don’t still as he asks, his face pressed against the soft of your stomach, peering up at you.

Your back arches again as he presses a few kisses under your breasts and across your ribs. “Yeah baby” you sigh “like when you’re soft with me..”

He thinks his brain short-circuits for a minute. Din was not known to be soft. He was the hardened bounty hunter turned marshal of Nevarro, a stone-cold killer, nearly undefeated. But not to you. He was the man who rubbed the bottom of your feet when you had been standing too long, a caring father, the love of your life. He was softest when he was with you when he was in the presence of someone who made him forget what his legacy was and allowed him to be himself.

“I’ll be soft..” his words are barely audible with his face pressed into your chest “I am yours..” he keeps his lips pressed against the skin of your ribs, his hands still cupping your breasts. “Always yours,” he mumbles as his lips find your nipple again, taking the pebbled nub into his mouth and letting his tongue swirl around it. Your hands fist in his hair, not pulling, just grounding him and yourself in each others’ touch “My perfect girl... my everything..” his words were slightly slurred, getting drunk on you. “Stars.. I want to taste you” he looks up at you, his pupils dark and blown, lost in his ecstasy. His hips grind down slowly against yours, his need taking over involuntarily.

Your lazy sighs and moans fill the room, mingling with the sounds of the bugs and townspeople outside of your window. His lips trace their way down your chest, following the path down your abdomen, licking small stripes against your skin as he goes. “So good to me din..” you sigh, lips parting and eyes fluttering as you glance down at him.

He lets out an uneven breath, his brown eyes drinking your body in. He sits up slightly between your legs and swallows roughly, as he takes in the sight of you. The sun was practically making you glow, casting a halo of gold around you, your lips were parted and red from biting at them. “You’re so beautiful my sun… so so beautiful” You feel your skin warm at his words, despite how often he praises you it never ceases to make you melt like putty in his hands. He can see the reaction on your face, the slight flush of your skin stirring something possessive and needy inside of him. “Kriff-” he makes a sound somewhere between a moan and a whimper, “kriff i need you, i need you my sun,”

You huff out a warm laugh and he thinks that it was warmer than the heat of any sun he had been in the presence of. You were his sun, you were his entire galaxy. “Go on in, I want you too my moon,” your words are soft, gentler than he thinks he deserves, but you never use anything other than that soft voice with him.

“You’re sure..?” his hands trace over your thigh. Despite being fully bare and needy in front of him, Din is always sure to ask, never wanting to overstep, never wanting to hurt you even if by accident. His eyes are searching yours, looking for any sign of second guesses or hesitance, but are only met with utter devotion and need

“I’m always sure” you whisper gently, looking up at him like he had personally set every star in the galaxy out there for you, like your entire heart and soul were his, and his were yours. He didn’t need to be told a second time, his lips finding your skin once again, tracing the same path down your body, licking over the ticklish skin of your belly button, nipping gently at the skin of your hip, until he’s hovering right above the coarse curls nestled on your body. You twitch slightly at the brush of his stubble against your stomach, your hand stroking through his hair absentmindedly.

He lets out a small rumble of affection as he watches your chest rise and fall from his place between your legs. His mouth moves down to the curls just above your aching cunt and presses soft kisses into them, breathing in the smell of you. “You smell so kriffing good stars-” he practically whimpers at you, your breath catching as your hips jerk up inadvertently, yearning to catch some of his touch.

“Maker I love these” his lips continue to press kisses at the hairs on your mound, your skin heating at the praise, before his lips move slowly down, teasingly slow, before they press down over your slick folds. His nose nudges you open softly, and you cry out hands tightening in his hair, when it bumps your clit. “Smell so fucking good, bet you taste so perfect for me too ” he whines as his tongue lays a flat stripe against you.

There was that filthy mouth of his. Somehow managing to be both incredibly sweet and debauched at the same time in ways that made your head spin. His tongue laps at you, gentle kitten licks at first, before it starts to work in lazy circles against your clit. He lets out a hum of laughter when your hand tightens in the sheets, a moan breaking out of your chest when his lips kiss and suck on that bundle of nerves. “Taste better every single time, Sun” he murmurs, collecting your slick on his tongue.

“Stars-” your voice breaks in a whimpered moan, the feeling of his lips pressing open-mouthed kisses over your cunt making you writhe in his touch. His tongue darts out to lap at the slick that practically drools out of you eagerly like he was getting ambrosia straight from the gods. You tasted heavenly, and he simply could never get enough. He moans into your skin every so often, the vibrations sending shocks that go down your spine.

The hand that wasn’t holding your hip was entangled with yours, his fingers rubbing your knuckles in a tender caress. The soothing motion is almost second nature to the two of you, one you use during any moment you can spare. “Maker” you cry out when his beard scratches the soft skin of your pussy, “all for you din, I’m all yours.” your words send a rush of possession through his body, his tongue lapping at you faster, almost like he was claiming you as his.

His tongue goes back to dart at your dripping hole, pushing past your entrance and moaning at the taste of you. He flicks his tongue in you a few times, your back arching in response before he pulls off of you. He looks ragged with his mouth covered in your wetness and his hair clinging to his forehead, while sweat drips down his skin. “Maker above you taste so fucking sweet.. my sweet girl.”

He moves back down, lips fervently attached to your clit, pulling moan after moan from your mouth. Your legs tremble as his mouth focuses on its new target, and you feel the coil inside you tightening, bringing you to that peak.

“Oh, shit-” you cry out as your legs tighten around his head, a hoarse moan leaving his mouth at the feeling. “Din, baby fuck, I'm gonna cum-” Your breathing is unsteady, coming out in sharp pants and gasps.

“That's it sweet girl” he hums into your skin, tongue never stopping its rapid movements “cum on my tongue baby, let me taste you, sweet girl” Your cunt pulses as you cum for him, his tongue working you through the high of your orgasm. Your sounds are like a choir in his ears, and if lack of air between your legs killed him he wouldn't mind, it would be an honor to die like that. The combination of those, coupled with how damn sweet you taste, had him rolling his hips into the mattress searching for any sort of relief for his aching cock.

Your eyes are hazy as you come down from your climax, your legs going limp on the bed. You can see Din rutting into the mattress, a new burst of arousal flooding you. “Din.. baby… I want you..” you practically purr at him, voice dripping with almost as much need as your cunt. Your words raise a guttural whine to leave his chest, his breathing labored.

“Please,” the tone of his voice is almost one of supplication, begging you for salvation “Please, I need to be inside you, please-” your hands are already making quick work of undoing his belt, your need for him primal.

His belt comes off with a click and you can feel yourself drooling at the sound, almost Pavlovian how quickly you react “Din, please please I want you, baby put it in I can't wait,” your own pleas match his in desperation. Both of you yearned for each other in ways that were incomprehensible, in ways that could keep you whole for the rest of time simply if you could bask in the shadow of the other.

Din pulls his pants off, throwing them somewhere across the room, and you finally see him. Thick and pretty as ever, dripping pre-cum, practically throbbing and aching to be inside your warmth. You shuffle your hips down so he can line up with you, shaky exhales leaving both your lips when he drags the heavy weight of him over your sensitive heat. He gathers some of your wetness on his cock, coating it before he slips into you, curses flying out of both of your mouths. “Fuck Din,” you cry out as his tip pushes into you, the familiar stretch of him making you ache for more. He pushes into you further, making your toes curl and one of your hands grabs at your breast.

“So good for me,” he groans out, pushing himself further, almost lost in how good you felt around him. Tight and wet, molding around him like you were made for each other. He pushes himself in all the way, buried inside you to the hilt, and it was like a puzzle piece. You were crafted just for him, and he was for you. There was nobody else for either of you.

Din sinks down on the bed, his hips flush against yours, only propped up on an elbow to keep from crushing you under him. “My perfect girl..” he sighs, not thrusting but simply rocking against you. “My perfect fucking girl... I love you I love you I love you” he nestles his head on your shoulder, pressing kisses on your collarbone and neck. He snakes one hand around your waist, pulling you up to his body, chests pressed together, and you cling to each other.

“Your girl..” you sigh, your hips moving gently, the friction of his coarse hair against your clit giving you enough stimulation to feel that familiar peak building slowly “Your girl.. Yours..” his lips move against your skin, his touch and presence engulfing you the way that you craved with him.

His hips move a little faster, his need for you evident in the way his fingers grip you. “So kriffing beautiful like this.” he cries out, biting your collar gently “So perfect… so good under me like this..” you can feel his hips growing a tinge frantic, his orgasm building after who knows how long of staving it off to focus on you. You let one of your hands drift to your clit, not even needing to move your hand, just needing a slight bit of extra pressure while he moves inside of you.

“I love you, Din. I love you so much, I love you,” you cry out as his movements turn to shallow shaky thrusts, his lips parted against your skin in silent prayers to you. “Cum with me, please I want to feel you, I want you in me, I want to be yours Din.” your fingers move gently, pushing you over the edge towards your climax.

The feeling of your walls clamping down around him pushes him over with you. His cock twitched inside of you with groans and cries of pleasure leaving his mouth as his cum fills you. “Perfect fucking girl,” his words are blubbering sounds, mostly coming out between gasps and moans “Take me so well, made for me.”

Din rolls you on top of him, letting you both catch your breaths while you cling to each other like it would be physically painful to be separated. His hand strokes up and down your back, skin warm to the touch but not for reasons he could think to criticize. Your eyes droop, the pleasure and feeling of domesticity seeping into your bones. “I love you, my moon.” you coo at him, sleep taking over your body.

“I love you too, my sun..” he replies, his own body beginning to doze off, his hands still wrapped around your body.

#din djarin #din djarin x y/n #din dijarin x reader #din djarin smut #din djarin fluff #the mandolarian fanfiction #the mandalorian one shot #the mandalorian smut #the mandolarian #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x y/n #pedro characters #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x reader #papaya writes <3 #mando smut #mando x reader #star wars fanfiction

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moonpascaltoo · 7 months ago

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DIN DJARIN / THE MANDALORIAN

╰┈➤ 18+ none of these stories belong to me! this is a masterlist of all din djarin stories i’ve read and reblogged! just thought it would be nice to have them all in one spot! (if your fic is on here and you wish not to be, please let me know!) some will have summaries if provided <3

MASTERLIST ✨PEDRO PASCAL CHARACTERS ✨06/01/24

@softlyspector ☼ significant pt2 Din has been calling you riduur for months. You finally find out what it means, and get a little more than you bargained for. ☼ request ☼ jealousy!din ☼ request ☼ pregnant!reader

@theidiotwhowritesthings ☼ common mistake ☼ in a perfect world, you love me pt2 On the way to visit an old friend, you and Mando find trouble. Both of you are subjected to a drug that puts you in your perfect world. But, when you can’t tell what’s real and what isn’t, how do you know what to trust? ☼ familiar and unfamiliar You travel the galaxy with a Mandalorian who is much softer than his impenetrable beskar would lead others to believe. He leaves you with his son to search for a Quarry, but it’s not the Mando you’ve come to know and love who returns to you.

@rosepascal ☼ bucket of bolts The dad and the dog he didn't want but its Din Djarin and a BD unit.

@sinsofsummers ☼ push and pull after convincing him to help you hide from the guild, you teach mando how to enjoy himself. this is the way.

@archieimagines ☼ touching din The three times that Din bends his own rules and engages in physical touch.

@absurdthirst ☼ secrets Reader gets drunk and mouthy. Mando wrestles with his own sense of sexuality and wonders if he can fulfill the desires of his crew member.

@bits-and-babs ☼ pure beskar

@januaryembrs ☼ kiss the scars You and Mando are forced to remove your helmets to save the child. But to you, it means more than breaking your creed. To you, it means revealing the thing you're most insecure about.

@the-archxr ☼ kar’taylir the four times Din Djarin almost says it, and the one time he does. alternatively, the four times you almost say it, and the one time you do.

@thefrogdalorian ☼ my pain fits in the palm of your freezing hand When you and your Mandalorian companion are ambushed by a group of bandits, you hope that his stubborn nature will not make the task of treating his wounds any more difficult than it needs to be. But that is not the only obstacle. You also hope that the depth of your unrequited feelings for Din will not impact on your ability to care for him... ☼ downpour Leading a solitary, nomadic existence for much of his life means that Din Djarin has never cuddled up to someone he loves during a rainstorm. Until one night in his cabin on Nevarro, when unseasonably poor weather introduces him to one of life’s simple pleasures.

@groguspicklejar ☼ pretty picture Din would do anything to keep any outside threat from touching his clan.

@multifandombitxh ☼ keep it down

@wheresarizona ☼ creed Upon meeting Bo-Katan Kryze and discovering there are other Mandalorians out in the galaxy who remove their helmets, Din Djarin is suddenly questioning his beliefs and unable to stop from wondering what you, his wife, look like under your own helm.

@peterparkersnose ☼ i need you more than i wanted to Y/N overhears a damaging conversation between Din and Greef Karga

@bluebeary-jay ☼ face to face as riduurs, you and Din can finally show your faces to each other without suffering any consequences. but when the time finally comes, your insecurities and fears of rejection come into play, threatening to ruin this important moment.

@dindjarindiaries ☼ united we fall Din’s unable to control the Darksaber and accidentally hurts you with it, leaving behind a deep scar on your body and his mind. ☼ untitled ☼ everything i wanted You’re trapped inside a Din x Omera love triangle, struggling to get to your lover who’s entranced with your new host.

@writerlyhabits ☼ courting ☼ request Din’s partner figures out they’re pregnant, and is terrified. They aren’t married, this is the worst time possible, Din already has so much responsibility on his shoulders. But they have to tell him. Because Din deserves to know. She’s terrified of what his reaction might be, if he’d be angry, or excited, or dismissive, etc. ☼ shine and polish Din catches you cleaning/polishing his armor for him (something usually only done between courting Mandos) and gets all shy explaining the implications to you

@flowersforjude ☼ lost in translation A night in a beautiful meadow and an innocent question leads to a startling confession.

@backtothefanfiction ☼ not that easy When Din realised he was starting to have feelings for you, he got scared. Snuck away before sunrise and left you stranded on Nevarro. When you catch up to him on Tatooine, you have a few choice words for him.

@beskarandblasters ☼ caught in 4k You catch Din watching porn and discover his secret; his breeding kink. ☼ you’re the loss of my life You reminisce on your time with your riduur after his death. ☼ kiss me thru the comlink

@noisynaia ☼ the sweetest melody

@pedrito-friskito ☼ uncharted territory

@saradika ☼ beneath the mask when a mysterious stranger wins your hand at the tournament, you can't help but wonder about his intentions

@tremendum ☼ where to start Din lets out a shaky sigh, finally turning around in the chair to face you, legs spread slightly, “it’s not like- I don’t not want to- I just haven’t-I don’t know where to start."

@thefanbasewhore ☼ mine Din says goodbye to reader and Grogu but once they are reunited Din has mixed feels about the situation, jealous of Luke

@haylzcyon ☼ beautiful truths After hiring you for your unique ability of being able to detect lies, the Mandalorian unknowingly consumes a tea that has adverse effects. You decide to help him, and find out some surprising truths along the way.

@lincolndjarin ☼ best kept secret Married off to a prince on a planet that you hate? New husband doesn't know you, and doesn't want to know you? New husband gifts you a personal Mandalorian body guard as a wedding present? Mandalorian is a wiseass who won't leave you alone? Lucky you.

@penvisions ☼ of beskar and kyber You’ve been on the run for as long as you can remember, from a lot of different people and a lot of different things. Everyone seems to see you as either a prize to show off or a captive to exploit. You had been successful in keeping a low profile and evading brief captures. That is until your mother contracted the Guild and the Mandalorian came to possess your tracking fob. Will he be the reason your freedom is no longer something attainable or will he be the one to help you achieve it in ways you never anticipated?

@iron-strangers ☼ expanding clan mudhorn Din Djarin met a former jedi padawan who, after surviving order sixty-six, was adopted and raised as a Mandalorian. This series explores the journey of their growing clan as Din juggles the newfound responsibility of being the Mand'alor.

@thepascalofus ☼ supply of run part two part three You’ve been Mando’s crew partner for a year now. Throughout that year Mando has warmed up to you and given you signs that your heart throbbing crush on him is reciprocated. There’s one thing making you hesitate. The condoms he bought on the most recent supply run.

@yeollie-plz ☼ ever since we met, i only shoot up with your perfume You receive a new perfume, Din really likes your new perfume.

@suresnips ☼ tear in my heart after a rough encounter with a bounty leaves him worse for wear, din needs your help to patch himself up. little do you know he's struggling with more than just external injuries.

@ak-vintage ☼ quarry Din Djarin is on what he expects to be his last bounty hunt for Greef Karga. After all, Nevarro is swiftly moving away from its previous reputation as a Guild member’s paradise, and Din has more important concerns now, like finding a Jedi to train his mysterious foundling. However, after capturing a wanted starship engineer who would rather go anywhere other than “home,” the Mandalorian is forced to reassess his priorities. Your taste of freedom had been brief but glorious. Now you are a prisoner of the most infamous bounty hunter in the Outer Rim – it’s only a matter of time before he turns you in. There isn’t much you would not do to keep from being sent home, but as you find yourself growing closer to your captor and his strange little companion, you start to wonder whether escape is really what you want.

@undercoverpena ☼ i’d look for you din offers you something else in a field of wildflowers

#din djarin x reader #din djarin #the mandalorian #mando x reader #mando #din djarin fluff #din djarin angst #din djarin smut #din djarin one shot #din djarin imagine #star wars

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stardust-and-snickerdoodles · 4 months ago

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you're not in the dark; but far from the light pt. 1

fandom: The Mandalorian

pairing: Din Djarin x Reader

summary: After a bounty hunt gone wrong, Din must take care of your wounds and watch over your recovery. Things get dicey, buckle up!

tags/warnings: angst, injury, blood, fevers, hallucinations, hurt/comfort

word count: 2848

a/n: i've been writing on ao3 and suddenly remembered i have a tumblr. here you go.

That whole thing about your life flashing before your eyes before you die is bullshit.

You didn’t think you’d ever be in a position to make that conclusion, but considering you were working with the most fearsome bounty hunter in the galaxy, it wasn’t too far-fetched.

It was foolish to think that the two of you would get off scot-free, with the fact that the quarry you were hunting was a bounty hunter herself. Despite the considerable skill shared between you and Din, she’d managed to get the drop on you and now had you running on a wild goose chase around the galaxy. In fact, it had gotten to the point where even Din was wondering if she was worth it.

But then, just as it seemed you’d be chasing her around until the Empire came back to power, she holed up in a remote corner of a remote planet hardly occupied by anyone else. Part of you sensed that it may be a trap, but you were so eager to get this over with that you didn’t voice your concerns to Din. Perhaps if you had, you wouldn’t be in this mess.

Now, Din is crouched behind a large boulder with you, engaged in what seems to be a never-ending exchange of blaster shots.

“We can’t do this forever,” you shout to him over the noise.

Din lets out a grunt of agreement as he rises to fire off another shot. “Any ideas?”

You breathe out a heavy rush of air and rack your mind. “Alright,” you start, tapping a finger against your blaster anxiously, “I’m gonna run out there and draw her fire. After that, you go around and get an angle behind her. Hopefully she won’t notice you with me distracting her.”

Din shakes his head. “Absolutely not,” he insists, his voice as harsh as it can be through his helmet’s modulator. “If anyone’s running into the line of fire, it’s going to be me.”

“I’m a smaller target,” you counter, trying to match his persistence. You rise to fire off a few quick shots in the direction of the quarry before sinking down again. “I’m faster and I can get to cover more easily.”

Din is silent as he considers this. He knows you’re right; he just doesn’t want to admit it. Finally, he gives you the briefest of nods. “You get to cover as fast as you can, okay?” Is that a hint of worry tinting his voice?

You nod back. You have no desire to be shot today. “On my count,” you say back. “One, two, three!”

If perhaps you had been listening instead of discussing your plans with Din, you would’ve noticed that the opposing blaster fire had stopped in the middle of your conversation. Or if you’d waited another few seconds, the quarry would’ve come right to your hiding spot as she’d been planning to do. If you hadn’t been distracting Din with your talk of strategy, maybe he would’ve heard the approaching footsteps.

Instead, you stand and race out into the open clearing, only to come face-to-face with your quarry. Before you can even be surprised, she’s drawn a long blade from a sheath on her thigh and sunk it into your abdomen.

Your knees have hardly hit the ground before Din fires off three shots into the quarry’s chest. In tandem, both you and the quarry fall to the ground limply. The blade is still embedded in your torso, blood leaking sluggishly from around it. Your breath comes out in quick, short bursts.

The adrenaline stops you from feeling most of the pain, but it still hurts like hell. Now is when you imagine life might flash before your eyes, since it really does feel like you’re dying.

Instead, you find yourself watching the sky disappear behind Din’s helmet. The sun bounces off the shiny metal and nearly blinds you.

“Y/N?” Din’s voice is panicked and rushed as he slides to his knees next to you.

You say his name in a small whimper, hands grasping for anything to hold on to. Eventually they find purchase on a bit of fabric under his chestplate, and you try desperately to pull him closer to you.

“Dank farrik,” Din murmurs as he notes the blade still sticking out of you. “I’m so sorry, cyar’ika, this is going to hurt.”

You don’t even have time to ask what he means before Din’s hands are on you, applying heavy pressure around the wound. You let out a gut-wrenching cry as you see stars, the pain suddenly overwhelming. Your head spins as you weakly scrabble against his hands, trying to relieve the pressure.

“Ni ceta, ni ceta,” Din’s voice is broken but you hardly hear him over the ringing in your ears.

You beg for him to stop, the pain overpowering your rationality. If you were lucid and comfortable, you would’ve understood how vital his actions were. Right now, though, all you know is that what he’s doing is hurting you, and you want it to stop.

Din is hardly holding it together as it is, but hearing your agonized cries is almost enough to do him in. On the one hand, he desperately hopes that you remain conscious so he could assure himself of your survival. On the other, he wants nothing more than for you to pass out so he doesn’t have to hear you beg anymore.

“Cyar’ika, I need you to hold pressure for me,” Din says, trying to pull himself together.

“No, please,” you plead, “it hurts.”

“I know, my love, I know. But I need to stabilize the wound so we can get back to the ship. I can’t do that with my hands here.” Din looks at you intently from under the visor, hoping to convey his desperation even to your pain-addled mind.

“Can’t you just take it out?” You whimper.

Din shakes his head as a wave of anxiety consumes him. Usually, you’re good with this type of thing, injuries and the like. It isn’t like you to consider taking out a penetrating object without the proper supplies. He knows the pain must be affecting you more than he initially thought. “You’d bleed out. We have to wait to get back to the Crest.”

His words seem to get through to you because eventually you suck in as deep a breath you can muster and lay your hands over his.

“Hold tight, I know it hurts. But you need to hold it as hard as you can.”

You nod and press down, suppressing another strangled cry.

“Good girl,” Din whispers as he reaches for the medpack in his bag. He opens it and is grateful he doesn’t have to hide the disappointment on his face when he notices its sparseness. Fortunately, there’s just enough gauze that he can stabilize the knife, and he knows there is more aboard the Crest.

Instructing you to remove your hands, he pads the sides of the blade with rolls of gauze before wrapping around them with another. He tries to dissociate from your pained cries as he manipulates your torso to wrap the gauze.

“Time to go, love,” he says, cupping your cheek with a gloved hand. Your eyes are half-lidded and Din knows that you’re running out of time. He needs to get this blade out and close the wound fast.

With his heart in his throat, Din reaches under you to cradle you in his arms. You let out the most heartrending scream yet as he lifts you. With each quick step Din takes, the pain blossoms throughout your abdomen.

“Stay with me, cyar’ika,” Din murmurs as he finally approaches the ramp to the Crest.

“’M right here,” you slur, blood loss making you feel lightheaded and airy.

“Good, that’s good,” Din reassures, more to himself than to you. He sets you down on your cot in the cargo hold, being careful not to jostle your wound more than necessary. He tries not to feel so anxious when you hardly make a noise to register the movement. “I’m just going to get some supplies; you hang in there.”

“M’kay,” you murmur, barely even recognizing what you’re agreeing to. Your eyes slip closed for a moment before you remember that you’re supposed to be awake. Wait, are you supposed to be awake? It would be so nice to sleep… But Din. Where’s Din? “Din?” You call out, eyes suddenly wide with panic. “Din!” you cry and the pain reappears in your abdomen.

Heavy footsteps approach you quickly and you try to turn to see who’s coming but the pain prevents movement. “What is it?” Din’s voice is a welcome relief.

You let out a long rush of breath. “I thought you left me,” you whisper.

“I told you I was getting supplies,” Din says, doing his best to keep the worry out of his voice at your forgetfulness.

“Right,” you nod slightly, the memory slowly coming back to you. “Din?”

“Yes?” Din replies as he sets up supplies to remove the blade from your abdomen.

“Did we get the quarry?”

“Yes, love,” Din takes a moment to cradle your cheek in his hand again, wiping away a stray tear with his thumb. You notice he’s removed his gloves and can’t help but lean into his soft touch just a bit. “Don’t worry about that anymore. Let’s just focus on you.”

You nod your agreement as best you can.

Din talks to you in a gentle voice as he goes about ensuring he has everything he needs: more gauze, bacta spray, antiseptic, water for you to drink. He sets the cauterizer aside just in case, but prays that his own less-than-stellar suturing skills will satisfy. With slow and careful movements, he snips through the gauze around your abdomen to clear the field. Once he can no longer delay the inevitable, he looks at you through the visor of his helmet. “I need to remove the blade now, my love.”

You nod again, watching as his hands settle around the handle of the knife. “I trust you,” you murmur, meeting the approximate location of his eyes behind the helmet.

Nothing could have prepared Din for the blood-curdling scream you release as he extracts the blade. He works quickly to pack the wound, which now rushes with fresh blood. Before he’s even finished, your head lolls and your eyes drift shut.

Din panics for a brief moment, reaching with one hand to wrap around your wrist and feels for your pulse. It’s weak, but there, and Din goes back to treating your wound.

…

You wake only a few minutes later to find Din applying a bacta spray to your now barely bleeding abdomen. The feeling is warm and tingly as your frayed cells attempt to knit themselves together. “Din,” you mumble, eyes still half closed.

Din’s head shoots up and he puts the spray aside. “Y/N,” he breathes, your name like a prayer on his lips. “I stitched you up. How are you feeling?”

“Better,” you reply honestly. The pain is diminished now, and you feel grateful that you’ve missed the suturing, as it’s always made you uncomfortable.

“Good.” Din’s shoulders relax as some of the tension leaves his body. You’re nowhere near out of the woods yet, but at least you’re not bleeding out anymore. “It looks like the knife missed anything vital but it’s still a fairly sizeable wound. I’ll need to keep a close eye on it.”

You reach up toward him but with the confusion and the blood loss, you have no sense of direction. Din senses your desire though and captures your hand in his own. Your fingers are cold in his warm palms. “Thank you,” you murmur.

Din leans down and rests his helmet against your forehead. “Sleep now, cyar’ika. I’m right here.”

…

The next time you wake, it’s to Din holding a cup of broth beside you. He helps you sit up and gently coaxes you to take a few sips, insisting that you need to regain your strength. You manage to swallow down a bit, but the pain prevents you from staying upright for long. He reassures you that you can try again later.

The next three days pass in quick flashes of wakefulness. Each time, Din is there, changing your dressings or offering you more broth. By the morning of the third day, you almost feel a bit of your strength returning, and even manage to finish the whole cup of broth.

Unfortunately, when it rains, it pours.

…

It’s unbearably cold when you wake in the middle of the fourth night. Your entire body is wracked with shivers and your teeth chatter against each other uncomfortably.

Din is by your side in an instant, pressing a bare hand to your forehead. “Dank farrik,” he grumbles, rushing to retrieve the medpack.

“Din,” you slur as he returns. “’M so cold.”

“I know,” Din replies, hastily ripping open the medpack. “You have a fever. I’m guessing your wound is infected.”

“Oh,” is all you can manage to reply before you drift back off into a restless sleep.

…

When you come to again there are voices in the ship. One sounds vaguely like your mother. She’s urging you to wake up.

“I’m awake,” you grumble, trying to swat away the bees that are crawling around your face. “Leave me ‘lone. Wan’ sleep.”

“Cyar’ika,” your mother says, “you’re dreaming. You’re safe. I’m here.”

You never knew your mother could speak Mando’a.

For a while, the bees don’t let you fall back asleep. You want to reach out and swat them away but someone holds a firm grip on your wrists.

“Get the bees ‘way,” you whine, pulling weakly against their hold.

“Shh,” your mother reassures. “You were hurting yourself. I have you.”

The other voices are all jumbled and you can’t make out anything in particular. Everything feels hazy and unfamiliar. The only thing that comes through semi-clearly is the burning ache in your stomach.

…

A while later, something cold rests on your forehead and you reach to remove it. It’s uncomfortable and you’re already cold enough.

“Leave that,” one of the voices murmurs. You think it may be your mother again, but she sounds like a man. Your hand falls from your face and you drift off again.

…

There is an ocean in your head and in your ears and behind your eyes and you think it might be nice to go take a swim in it. It would be so nice and cool.

…

When lucidity finally claims you again, it is with the sudden realization that you’re hardly dressed. You’re still clothed in a pair of shorts and a tank top, but it’s definitely not what you wore when you were injured. You feel reassured by the fact that there is a thin blanket covering you, but you question the change of dress anyway.

“Y/N?” Din’s voice comes from close beside you. “Are you with me?”

“Why am I naked?” you mumble by way of response.

“You had a very high fever from the infection. I had to cool you off quickly.”

You peek open your eyes slightly to see the Mandalorian sitting next to you on the floor of the cargo hold. “Am I gonna be okay?” you whisper.

Din squeezes your hand in his. “Yes, my love. Your fever broke last night and the infection seems to be calming down.”

“How long was I out?”

Din is silent for a long moment. You figure it must have been bad if he’s like this. “Three days,” he finally replies. You can hear the tiredness in his voice.

Silence stretches between you, the weight of his words hanging in the air. “Have you slept?” you ask.

Din huffs out a laugh. Leave it to you to be concerned about his wellbeing while you’re recovering from a stab wound. “I’m okay, cyar’ika. I can sleep now knowing you are on the mend.”

You hesitate to speak as he moves to rise from your side, but the feeling of his hand leaving yours is too much to bear. “Lay with me?” you ask shyly.

Din looks down at you and, not for the first time, you wish you could see his expression. Before you can apologize or overthink your request, he crouches back down. “Not here,” he murmurs, before reaching under you to carry you to his own bunk. You nuzzle yourself against his chest and notice the absence of his beskar armor.

He lays you down gently on the bed first, leaving enough room for himself. “Close your eyes,” he murmurs and you comply. You hear the familiar hissing sound of his helmet releasing, before the warmth of his body is behind you. He fits snugly around you, one arm resting across your waist but being careful to avoid your wound.

You let out a sigh of satisfaction, feeling secure in his hold.

“Rest, cyar’ika,” he says, chest rumbling against your back. “I’ll be here when you wake.”

>>>

part 2

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starjedi86 · 9 months ago

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Make a wish

Summary: You and Din enjoy a peaceful night wrapped around each other’s arms.

Pairing: Din Djarin x female reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 882

Authors Note: Hi everyone! This fic was inspired by a picture I saw on Pinterest the other day. I hope you enjoy it!!

As the night progressed, Din lay in the grass outside his small cabin, his helmet resting beside him and his gaze fixed upon the twinkling stars scattered across the night sky.

Finally, he found a moment of peace and relaxation. Having to spent most of his life as a bounty hunter, always on the move and alert to any threat that might arise, he cherished this much-needed break. And now, in this quiet corner on the outskirts of Nevarro, he could finally breath freely, escaping the constant danger he was always faced.

However, despite the risks and distressing circumstances he had faced as a bounty hunter, he knew he would never regret his past. It was through that life that he had crossed paths with you, the person who had brought light and love into his life.

It had been a few years since you started dating, he couldn’t even remember how his life was before he met you. He was sure it was dark and cold, as he wasn’t used to having someone by his side. It was only when Grogu came into his life that he started to realize how much you meant to him, and that’s when he found the courage to ask you out.

Lost in his thoughts, Din didn’t realize that you were walking towards him until you settled beside him, your comforting presence in the stillness of the night. As he turned to you, a soft smile broke across his lips at the sight of your familiar and beautiful face.

Reaching out, he pulled you into his embrace, wrapping his arms around you and drawing you closer to him. Feeling the warmth of your body against his, he savored the moment, grateful for your calming and comforting company.

Leaning into him, you rested your head against his chest, listening to the soft and steady rhythm of his heartbeat as you looked at the stars. Taking his hand in yours, you gently intertwined your fingers with his, feeling safe in his presence.

After a moment, Din finally broke the silence, raising his hand to stroke your hair. “Is the kid finally sleeping” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, his breath warm against your head.

You nodded softly, a small smile forming on your lips as you thought about that small little cutie that managed to steal your heart. “Yes, it took some time, but he’s out like a light.”

Din exhaled a quiet sigh of relief as his expression softened, a playful hint of amusement appearing in his eyes. “Seems like he has started to enjoy your company more lately,” he remarked, a gentle teasing tone in his voice.

You shook your head and chuckled softly, a tender smile gracing your face. “I don’t think he prefers me over you,” you said, reaching out to gently touch his cheek. “You’re his father, Din. You’ll always be his favorite person in the entire galaxy.”

Din’s heart swelled with affection at your words, reassured by your understanding and support. As he gazed at you, an intense sense of gratitude washed over him, knowing that he was blessed to have you by his side.

"Thank you, cyar'ika,” Din said softly, his voice filled with affection as he gazed into your eyes. "For everything you’ve done for me, for us."

You smiled back at him, warmth spreading through your chest at his words. "You don't have to thank me, Din," you replied. "I'm just happy to be here with you."

In response, Din gently squeezed your hand three times, a silent declaration of his love for you—a gesture you both had used since the begging of your relationship. It was a way of saying “I love you” without needing to say it out loud, a silent promise that you’ll always be there for each other, no matter the circumstances life brought.

You returned the gesture, matching his action with three gentle squeezes of your own, your heart overflowing with love and affection for the man you were lucky to call yours.

As you both gazed up at the stars, a shooting star streaked across the sky, causing you to gasp in excitement. “Look!” you exclaimed, shaking his arm with your hand. “Make a wish!”

You closed your eyes eagerly, a smile tugging at your lips as you made your silent wish. Din watched you with love, a small chuckle escaping his lips at your enthusiasm.

When you opened your eyes again, you met Din’s gaze, a curious expression on your face. “What?” you asked, raising your eyebrows in confusion.

Din's smile widened as he shook his head, his eyes shining with affection. "Wanna know something? I don't need to make any more wishes," he said softly. "Because everything I ever wished for is right here with me." He gestures towards you and the child, his heart overflowing with love for the two of you.

Touched by Din’s words, you leaned over and placed a gentle kiss on his cheek, a silent expression of the love and affection you had for him. You couldn’t be happier, the love you had for this man grew stronger day by day, and you knew that he felt the same way. After all, you were lucky to have him by your side.

#din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin x you #din djarin imagine #the mandalorian #the mandalorian imagine #din djarin one shot #mando #mando x reader #pedro pascal x reader #mando fic #the mandalorian x reader #din #star wars #star wars the mandalorian

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tending-the-hearth · 3 months ago

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zeb being confirmed in the mando and grogu movie means the rebels fans are one step closer to live action kal which means we’re one step closer to live action kalluzeb

#mando and grogu movie PLEASE do this one thing #even if it’s just a single shot of zeb exiting the ship #and meeting kallus at the end of the ramp #literally ONE shot of them together #a CRUMB of canon kalluzeb #star wars rebels #garazeb orrelios #alexsandr kallus #kalluzeb

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thefrogdalorian · 1 year ago

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din djarin + dramatic entrances

#he's the most dramatic man in the galaxy #he looks good and he KNOWS IT #imagine being in a cantina and that beautiful gorgeous tin can walks in i'd be up like a SHOT crawl over to him throw myself at his feet #din djarin brainrot #din djarin #din djarin edit #the mandalorian #mando #mando edit #pedro pascal #my edits #*#din #NEED HIM BIBLICALLY #grogu #like look at the little guy with him in the bottom one ahhhhhh #i miss them #din edits

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beyondspaceandstars · 2 years ago

Note

Hey babes, can you do a Mando x reader where the reader is a bounty hunter and leaves the ship to complete a mission and is only supposed to be gone a few hours but they’re gone all night and Din starts to panic and the next morning they show up slightly injured sand Din completely loses it and he was so scared then feels guilty? (fluff and ANGST) (sorry this is long!)

Safe With You

Relationship: Din Djarin x Reader

Warnings: fluff and angst, as ordered

Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: Thank you so so much for requesting!! I haven’t written for the Mandalorian in so long, it feels so great to do again. And the new season was wonderful, I loved the ending so much, so thank you for requesting this fluffy, angsty thing! (P.S. I am very aware of the fact that we just learned the mandalorian’s first name is not actually his first name however, I am a woman who is set in her ways and this was written before finding that fact out. He’s "Din" throughout this, I’m sorry.)

Masterlist

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

"You’re sure you’re going to be okay?" He asked you for what felt like the millionth time. You had to force yourself to stop rolling your eyes as you finished packing your supplies.

When you came back to the make-shift base you two had set up and told Din you picked up an easy job while in town, you had expected him to maybe ask a couple of questions, just so he knew where you’d be. What you hadn’t expected was for him to practically pester you. Not to mention, he’d already offered to come with about a dozen times now.

"Honey, I was working alone way before I ever met you," you replied, "I think I’m going to be able to handle myself."

He sighed. "I know, but this planet… Can you at least tell me what the job is?"

You shook your head. "I was paid extra for my discretion and the last thing we need is to lose a couple of credits, right? Besides, there’s worse in the galaxy, I’m sure of it. It’ll be fine, I’ll be back before you know it."

Din peaked up at the dimming sky. It would be getting dark soon.

"This still doesn’t feel right to me. Can you be back before nightfall?" He asked.

You shrugged. "Maybe." You felt his hard stare from behind his helmet. You sighed. "I’ll try."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

****

When you two make promises, you kept them. There were no if ands or buts about it. You both had demanding, dangerous lives, and promises were a foundation you thrived on. It kept you whole, loyal.

So, when night fell on the planet and the only thing he could make out was the fluttering nocturnal bugs, Din grew worried beyond belief. The night was ticking on and he was still alone. You had promised. He shouldn’t have this worry in him right now. He should be holding you tight, hearing you give a recap of the job while you two lay snuggled up, slowly drifting off to sleep.

He should be listening to your dream about what you’d want to use the credits for. Realistically, you always put it toward food and medical aid, but he knew you liked to save just some to the side for when you two found little markets throughout your journeys. You liked buying textiles for crafts in your downtime, jewelry from the local women…

Din was losing his mind. His head spun with thoughts and worries about you. Unable to do much else, he grabbed some supplies and made his way back into town, hoping on the off chance he’d be able to find whoever offered you the job. He decided he’d do whatever was necessary to get them to tell him where you were. He didn’t care what it would take or who he’d have to hurt.

This was you. His other half. His adorable, fearless, bright, charming, funny, caring significant other. And now you were gone…

Well, everyone was gone. In the pitch black of the night, just the faint hint of stars now guiding his path, Din found the town to be completely closed up for the night. It was a stark contrast to the hustle and bustle of the afternoon. It was like everyone just up and left but he knew better than that.

Most of the dusty buildings were used as shops, he remembered, but the flickering glow from some windows on the taller buildings points him toward some of the residents.

Din didn’t hesitate to knock on some doors. It would’ve been more powerful had it ended up working. He pounded on them. Kicked. Yelled. But all of his fits fell on deaf ears. He had half the mind to start breaking in through windows and backdoors but he had to reel himself back. It would do neither of you any good if he was restrained.

When it was growing more and more evident no one in the town would cater to him, Din forced himself to give up. He had to put some faith in you, he knew that. You were incredibly skilled—almost as much as him—and if you weren’t worried about something, he should be trusting of that.

And yet, he couldn’t help himself. Worry and defeat overcame him as he made his way back to where you two were staying. Din decided he’d make himself comfortable and then just wait for you to come back. Surely, that wouldn’t be so bad. He could keep himself awake. You’d probably be back any minute, he tried telling himself. It’d be fine. It’d be easy, right?

Nope. Wrong. So very wrong. Din only realized how foolish he had been when he felt a hint of warmth on his body and light trying to break through the visor of his helmet. Slowly, he blinked his eyes open, forcing himself awake.

It was morning. The next day. It was the morning of the next day…and he was alone. The realization hit Din like a ton of bricks. He shot up from his slouched position, and a new kind of worry came over him. Not only had he fallen asleep, but he had also done so without you, and it still didn’t appear like you were here. Worry shifted into guilty. He thought was going to be sick—

"Over here, darling." Your voice rang out in a scratchy tone from behind Din. He whipped his head around and your slumped, exhausted form came into focus. You were sitting in just your undergarments next to the nearby, splashing water over what appeared to be fresh wounds. A stack of wraps and aid supplies sat next to you. Most of your clothes were tossed to the side and turning brown from dried blood. Din felt every part of him seize up.

"Cyra’ika, what…" Din’s throat felt like it was on fire as he slowly stepped toward you. He knew he should’ve rushed to your side, gave you all the attention and care you absolutely needed, but he had never seen you in this state before. "What happened?"

You shrugged. "Mission was a little bit rougher than anticipate but don’t worry, I finished it and we were paid."

You had the nerve to flash a smirk at him. Din thought he was about to lose it all over again, maybe even worse, as he had the previous night.

"I’m not worried about the funds," he snapped. His sudden and typically unusual harsh tone made you flinch but he didn’t seem to care. "You’re… You’re bleeding. You’re pale. Oh my… You need— We need—,"

"To calm down," you snapped back. "We need to calm down. Honey, I’m okay, really. It was just a bit more difficult than the employer had made it out to be. That was probably my fault, I guess I didn’t ask the right questions, but it’s alright. Brought them in warm and everything. It just took slightly longer than anticipated."

Din groaned. "You said you’d be back by nightfall."

"Well, that didn’t happen."

"I’m very aware that that didn’t happen."

You rolled your eyes and turned your attention back onto your injuries. You patted one of the wounds dry and began trying to wrap it gently but firmly. Every movement made you flinch. "

"I don’t understand what the big fuss is about," you muttered. "I still returned and the mission was complete. What’s the big deal?"

"The big deal is I thought you were dead," Din replied harshly.

"Well, I’m not!" You yelled back, your own fuse nearly at its end. But losing your temper wasn’t the smartest idea you realized as a sharp pain tore through your side. You let out a frightened yelp. You had expected bruises but the one that covered more torso was a ridiculous one.

"Cyra’ika…" Din sighed as he rushed to kneel at your side. He inspected the bruised skin you were gripping. "You need to rest. Let me bandage the rest."

"No, I’m fine," you gritted. Your anger still simmered within you despite Din’s gentle words.

"No, you’re not," he replied. "And… And I’m sorry for being upset with you instead of helping." He pulled at the wrap you were holding in your hands. You forced yourself to give in. You leaned into his touch as he finished drying your wounds and began bandaging them.

"I tried coming back by nightfall," you murmured. "I really did but it was harder than I intended."

"I don’t doubt that for a second," Din said. "You promised and we try to keep our promises but I was… I was so scared." His helmet-distorted voice cracked slightly and that was more painful than any wound some bounty could ever inflict upon you.

"I was scared, too," you admitted, "but I didn’t want to make a big deal of it because I’m finally back here, safe, with you. That’s all that matters." Slowly, you raised a bruised hand to his helmet. You wanted nothing more than to cup his face and promise him you were okay but you knew this was as close as you were going to get.

"You’re right," he agreed, "and that’s what I’m trying to remind myself as I wrap your injuries."

You shook your head. "They’re not that bad, really. I’m sure you’ve had worse."

"This isn’t about me."

"Okay," you sighed. "But the next time you come back all bruised and beaten, I get to reprimand you."

Din hummed. "Maybe we should just start taking jobs together."

"Yeah?" You chuckled. "Wanna be my partner in crime?"

"I think I just want to be wherever you are."

"Good because I want you there with me," you said with a wide smile creeping up on your face. You knew if you saw Din’s face he would be blushing. "Hey, do you think one day we’ll be able to leave all this behind and just live a…normal life together?"

Din’s focus stayed on the bandages. "Is that what you would want?"

"Of course," you replied with no hesitation.

"Then, yes." Din nodded. "I’ll make sure of it."

A good kind of warmth spread throughout your face and down your body. "I love you."

"I love you, too," Din responded. "Always."

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chickadee-djarin · 9 months ago

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Breathe

Fandom: The Mandalorian (Star Wars) Pairing: Din Djarin x wife!reader

Summary: Months after their escape from Nevarro, Din and the child finally return in the hopes of settling things with the Guild - and finding you.

[takes place within S1E8: Redemption]

Word count: 2.2k Warnings: mention of injury and implied canon typical violence

masterlist

Din’s ears are ringing, each step a loud drum beating in his head as they make their way through the tunnels. Most of his weight is carried by Cara, but his feet continue to falter and his thoughts are on distant memories and Karga has to grip the arm not thrown around the shocktrooper’s shoulders to keep him upright. Din tries to lead them, direct them through the tunnels but they’re as much a maze to him as they ever were – he’d always entered through the bazaar, and he never bothered to learn an alternate route. You had always teased him for that-

‘Best in the parsec, huh?’ Din could see your smile but it was blurred, the searing pain in his head only just beginning to numb. He tried to focus on you - on the memory of you - as his feet continued to drag; but his mind was betraying him. He knew you’d teased him further, scolded him for not knowing his way around the covert in case of emergency. But the memory faded as quickly as it came, your laugh barely an echo in the empty tunnels.

They took another turn and still, no Mandalorians. Still, no trace of you.

Since taking the child, every quiet moment was spent thinking of you – wondering if you’d made it off Navarro alive. Hoping. He had last seen you with the armorer; you’d stood by his side as she crafted him new armor. You’d helped him put it on, piece by piece, unaware that as you worked the armorer was crafting something for you as well. He’d set two beskar ingots aside, his request of vambraces having been made prior to your arrival at the forge. Din thought you would object – you were a healer, not a warrior – and you were not a Mandalorian by Creed. But when you’d finished setting the final piece of his armor in place and the armorer had stepped out, Din had presented you with the unpainted vambraces and you’d silently accepted them. He hadn’t told you of the job that resulted in such a pay, but he didn’t need to. High reward meant high risk, and if wearing the armor meant easing his conscious regarding your safety then you’d hold your tongue.

But he hadn’t seen you since then. He’d meant to take another job, return to the covert with more credits and supplies before finally finding rest in your shared bed. He hadn’t anticipated the gnawing guilt, the little silver ball sitting atop a simple lever to send his world upside down. And he certainly hadn’t anticipated the covert revealing themselves, forcing them to relocate after he made his escape with the child - without you.

Paz Vizsla had assured him you would be safe, though. The tribe would protect you, as they had throughout the five years since you’d been brought before them. You were their healer, the former outsider that tended to their wounded and their foundlings. You’d readily sacrificed your freedom to live among Navarro’s shadows, only leaving the safe confines of the tunnel system to gather supplies when Din was off world. And although not sworn to the Creed, you were sworn to him – you were a part of the tribe by marriage, and they would treat you as one of their own. This was the Way.

“Stop,” Din reached for the light on the side of his helmet. They’d finally reached a juncture he recognized – the memory of you standing there with a foundling on your hip crashing into him as they’d rounded the corner – and he pulled his other arm from Cara’s shoulders. “I can stand. I’ll try to find tracks.”

Again, he fiddled with the settings on his helmet. But as his visor began scanning, it returned only faint traces. Boot prints of various sizes, adult and child alike, appeared to have rushed down one of the corridors weeks ago. Din knew it was futile, but he couldn’t help wondering which set was yours.

He led them through the tunnels now, the possibility of finding you safely hidden away with the covert propelling him forward. A few more turns, another dozen sets of prints lighting Din’s visor-

And Mandalorian armor, cracked and chipped and dented, in a pile on the floor.

There little quintet stopped short in the tunnel. For a moment, they forgot about the Imperials above ground. For a moment, all eyes followed Din as he stepped forward and fell to his knees. He picked up the nearest helmet, it’s dark and empty visor offering no comfort: he recognized it, the shades of blue and gold owning to only one among the covert.

As he turned it over in his hands, Cara moved gingerly to his side. He heard her say- “We should go.”

But Din still held the helmet in his hands. He wondered if he dug, would he find your vambraces amid the pile? Or the carefully crafted diadem – the beskar braided to rest just above your brow – that he’d given you upon exchanging vows? It’d been forged from a piece of his own armor, the only thing he could gift you in place of a signet he did not yet possess.

“You go.” His voice came from a distance. “Take the ship. I can’t leave it this way.”

‘I can’t leave not knowing if she’s still alive.’

Cara made to protest, to remind him of the Imperials that would surely be closing and the little green child that needed him – but before she could speak, Din had stood and turned on Karga. The guilt he had carried since leaving Navarro; the fear of losing you that he’d carefully hidden away; it all morphed into an ugly rage and he could no longer contain the storm that was whirling within him. His hand fell to the blaster at his hip when a voice cut through the tunnels-

It was the armorer, her helmet glinting in the tunnels low lighting. She was picking pieces of armor from the floor, salvaging what she could as she spoke. Din had been a member of her covert long before she rose to lead them, and she reassured him that he was not to blame for their fate. “We knew what could happen if we left the covert.”

And she retailed exactly what had happened: the immediate arrival of Imperials, the possibility that some escaped. But she did not mention your fate and Din found he could not speak the question. Instead, they merely followed as she returned to her forge.

Karga watched with great interest as the armorer began melting down what remained of a breast plate. Neither he nor Cara, who began to move about inspecting the room, interjected as the armorer asked of the child. They heard the truth of how it came to be in Din’s care, of what it was. Still sitting in the nurse droid’s arms, the child’s ears drooped as the armorer spoke of ancient tales and Mandalore The Great and battles fought eons past. It’s big eyes followed her as she scooped the now liquid beskar from the forge, only breaking from her as she reminded Din of their creed.

Din met the child’s gaze. The armorer, with her back to them, picked up a hammer and began to craft. And with every impact she made, Din could only flinch under his helmet. He needed to find you. He needed to know whether you were safe, to return you to his side not search the galaxy for this creatures home-

‘This is the Way.’

The armorer’s words echoed in his mind, and he found himself- for the first time- at odds with them.

So distracted by his thoughts of you and of the child, he did not hear as Cara reminded them of the Imperials searching for them or as the armorer detailed an exit route. Nor did he hear as footsteps began approaching, echoing off the walls of the tunnels at a sprint.

Karga and Cara immediately moved to either side of the entryway, their blasters in hand and Din, finally, registered what was happening. He still stood behind the droid, which had turned to shield the child from view – but the armorer continued her work, barely pausing to say, “Lower your blasters.”

Cara shot a questioning look at her, but her back was still to them.

The footsteps grew louder; Cara and Karga kept their blasters raised; Din’s hand hovered over his own-

And you came rushing into the room, your breath ragged and your hair disheveled. “They’re coming, Alor, from the south entrance-”

The sight of the man in beskar – the unpainted steel covered in blaster residue and scorch marks – stole whatever remaining breath you had and you immediately moved towards him, a choked ‘ner ka’rta’ on your lips. He heard you, gripped you as you clung to him.

At the sight before her, Cara finally lowered her blaster. She motioned for Karga to do the same, recognizing now who you were – you were the Mandalorian’s wife, the one he had mentioned on Sorgan. When they had driven out the village raiders and found rest and spoken of the future, Cara had inquired of the rules surrounding his helmet. She had asked why he wouldn’t remove it, why he wouldn’t settle down on the swampy planet with the widow and her daughter.

‘I’m married,’ he had said.

Cara had asked- ‘Where is she?’

And after a beat, ‘I don’t know.’

Cara had heard the pain in his voice, read the defensiveness in his body language. She hadn’t pushed the topic further.

Now she watched as you pressed your forehead to his, heard as you spoke quietly in a language she didn’t know. But time was against you, and the armorer had nearly finished her work.

“You must go,” she said. “A foundling is in your care.”

In your relief at seeing your husband alive, you hadn’t noticed the others. Now, as Din took in your own appearance – the beskar diadem still upon your forehead, your clothes and cloak dirtied and your medical bag slung over your shoulder – you saw the others. The man you recognized immediately – you’d seen him around the cantina, seen him as he spoke with Din. He was Guild, and the grip you had on Din’s arms tightened. The other was a woman, one whose eyes met yours with an expression you couldn’t read. But the armorer’s words quickly drew your gaze away, to the droid and the small green creature in its arms.

“By Creed, until it is of age or reunited with its own kind, you are as its father,” she continued. “And its mother. This is the Way.”

Your gaze again found Din’s: you had so many questions, so many concerns. Months had passed since you last saw him and so much had happened- so many lives had been lost. But you knew, among these people, now was not the time. Not when you had only spotted the approaching Imperials minutes ago. And Din’s gaze had never left you, one arm still holding you tightly to him.

Her work now complete, the armorer turned to fully face you and Din. “You have earned your Signet,” she said to him.

As she approached, Din’s grip on you finally loosened and you stepped away. But you didn’t go far, standing before him and watching with a mixture of confusion and pride as the armorer welded a figure onto his right pauldron. When she finished, she pressed something into his hands and said- “You are a clan of three.”

This should have been a momentous occasion, one marked by celebration as was typical of a Mandalorian earning their Signet. You should have been proud of your husband – and you were – but an explosion was heard and the unmistakable sound of boots followed and there was no time for traditions.

“It’s a scouting party,” you said, finding your voice again. “They found the south entrance, they come from the bazaar.”

The armorer turned to the droid and it immediately passed the foundling off to the nearest person – the woman- before making its way down the hall. She seemed to struggle for a moment, but the armorer had continued talking to Din and the Guild man guarded the door and no one seemed to know what to do with the foundling. So you stepped forward, your focus shifting entirely to the small creature as you lifted him from her arms and held him to your chest. The movement caused the light from the forge to bounce off your vambraces, and you missed how the woman seemed to assess you.

And as you quietly cooed at the foundling, his large eyes fixed on you and his little green claws reaching for your face, you missed the way your husband watched you. How his hands tightened around the set of pauldrons the armorer had given him, unpainted and bearing a matching mudhorn. How, after months of torment, he could finally breath again.

A/N: Hello 👋🏻 I’m gonna preface this by saying: this is not a guaranteed return. Life got a little crazy and busy and next thing I knew two whole years had passed since I’d been active on here and writing. And work took a turn recently and I found myself restarting The Mandalorian, turning to my old comfort show while the boyfriend was at work. Maybe it was rewatching the show; maybe it’s me craving an escape from work. But I remembered this sitting somewhere among my drafts and thought ‘what the hell?’ Hope y’all enjoyed it. We’ll see if this gets me back into writing. Be pretty cool if it did, I’ve missed it. And I’ve missed y’all<3

Taglist: It’s been so long, I don’t yet know who all is still active on here - so no tags today. But as always, comments, inbox, and messages are open should you like to be added!

#my writing #fanfiction #the mandalorian #star wars #the mandalorian fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #din djarin #the mandalorian x female reader #mando x f!reader #wife!reader #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x wife!reader #one shot #breathe #s1e8

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joelsbloodyhands · 6 months ago

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MANDALORIAN IMAGINE

Din didn’t realise you have piercings

DESCRIPTION: You tend to Din’s injuries caused by a weapon you didn’t know he was carrying. In the process of cleaning his wounds, he learns something new about you too.

WARNINGS: Din getting hurt, blood, discussion of injuries, open cuts, discussions involving medical equipment, references to shooting guns, Din being a big dumb dumb getting himself injured 😈 newly established relationship, bossy behaviour, basically Din getting injured and he’s not used to being taken care of, reader has seen Din’s face before, established clan/family, just fluff.

A/N: I actually stole this from a draft series I was writing and liked the little snippet on its own so here ya go 😊 Note: Din has the dark saber in this plot but it isn’t mentioned that it takes place in any particular time during the Mandalorian series.

"Dank farrik!" Din exclaims, shooting back at the overconfident rodian chasing the Razor Crest down from the sandy floors of Tatooine. He’s out of breath, sending erratic shots back, warding off the rodian and it’s array of gang members. They had chased him all the way from Beggar’s Canyon, attempting to steal the head of a bounty that Din had managed with great difficulty to acquire. The head that now hung over his shoulder, bleeding through the make shift sack he’d half-heartedly tied it in. Din groans, glancing down at his throbbing shin. He struggles to keep balance on his right leg before being thrown across the cargo hold into the opposite wall when the ship thrusts up harshly towards the airspace.

“Din!” You yell, sliding down the ladder and shooting the airlock closed, preventing any further blaster fire from striking him. You look down at Din’s collapsed form slumped against the wall, gloved hand releasing some wiring he had grabbed to stop himself from rolling down the ramp completely.

Din immediately puts all his strength into shoving his feet into the steel floor, climbing his way up the wall awkwardly and stumbling into a standing position. It’s then you notice his leg, horror reaching your features. Before you can grab his arm, he staggers past you, throwing the disgusting sack off his back and into the corner of the cargo hold before uncomfortably climbing the ladder with pained groans. You follow, scrambling up the ladder after him, your head popping out of the narrow entryway to watch Din collapse into his chair and pull the crest off into the stars.

Wanting nothing more than to tend to his injury, the sound of cries catch your attention, your head whipping around to lower deck. Din’s head arches back while he controls the ship but your body slides down the ladder hurriedly. Din listens, while checking the navigator as he hears you gather your son and murmur words of reassurance to calm him down. Din releases a heavy breath, his teeth gritting as he feels the clothing covering his lower leg to stain coldly with his seeping blood. When he finally manoeuvres the ship far from the desert planet, he hits it into hyperspace and drops his head back against the chair, head spinning.

“Din!” You call again, your arms dragging you achingly back up the ladders after laying Grogu back down, his upset momentarily subsiding. Din feels his eyes growing heavy until your hands find his shoulders urgently, turning the chair harshly to the side to allow more room for you to kneel before him. You yank his shin armor off and tear open the already gaping hole of his flight suit.

“Shit, Din,” you grasp his leg where the wound is causing Din’s eyes to burn, pain erupting around every nerve. You look up at him in worry as he breathes heavily and goes to stand but he collapses just as you hold out your arms. You hitch a breath, trying to gain air back into your lungs after he knocks it out of you when you realise he’s heavier than you realised covered in beskar.

“I’m okay,” Din barely manages, his voice strained.

“No you’re not,” you assert, eyebrows furrowing in your difficulty to maintain his weight. You attempt to manoeuvre him to the ground, causing you to fall back with him in the process until you eventually manage to set him upright against the control panel, legs flat out in front of him.

Meanwhile you turn your head to notice a pair of green ears and big eyes watching you from the entry. You smile weakly at your son who watches you both silently.

“What happened?” You ask, pulling your vibro-knife from your ankle strap and using it to cut through the rest of Din’s clothes to give you access to his sliced leg. You wince as you realise how deep it is, hand palming your temple in confusion as to why the skin surrounding appears burnt and smells charred.

“I…it’s my fault…” Din manages slowly.

You frown, “How?”

In the midst of you tearing at his clothes, he shakily pulls the saber from his waist and holds it out to you, breathing heavily with his head back. You look to it inquisitively before Din pulls it to the side and unsheathes the glowing blade.

Your eyes widen.

“What the kriff is that?”

Din pulls the blade back in and sets it down, his head cocking to the side to analyse you.

"Called the...huff…dark saber. I…huff…caught myself with…huff…it."

You shake your head, completely bewildered by this foreign object but more angry at it for causing your love so much harm. And at his own doing.

"Stop talking. Stay here. Don’t move. I mean it."

He watches you stand up uneasily, sliding back down the ladder and listening to you rummaging around while he tries to regain his breath. His hands go to his helmet but his arms ache so he drops them before he can remove it.

You’re in front of him again before he can call for you, shaking bacta spray when he says your name. You lift your head, frozen by his sudden flinch when you angle the nozzle over his wound.

“My helmet.”

Your face falls, giving him a knowing look which he takes as you asking him if he’s absolutely sure.

He nods in response and you place the bacta spray down, hesitantly placing your hands on either side of the cold beskar and lift it from his head. What greets you is his flushed, sweat-stained features. His dark curls plastered meticulously over his forehead, skin lightly blushed red from enduring the heat of the hot planet and marvellous brown eyes meeting yours.

“Thank you,” Din smiles meekly at you.

You evade his gaze immediately, cheeks growing hotter at his unmodulated voice and softening gaze. Din had only recently started removing his helmet around you and even then it was a rare occurrence. You nervously mutter a “sure” before turning your attention back to his wound.

Once again, you angle the nozzle and spray a generous amount of the fluid over the wide gash. You watch as it gently binds the skin together and closes the wound slightly while Din groans at the stinging, burning sensation, biting his lip harshly. You frown unhappily at his discomfort, placing a hand on his shoulder and massaging gently to ease him.

Knowing you need to prevent him from moving around and get him as comfortable as possible, you move your hands towards his beskar chest plate but hesitate.

Din’s eyes meet yours knowingly, “go ahead”.

You nod and start working to remove his armor piece by piece until he’s in nothing but his torn flight suit. You’re completely in awe at the pile of metal next to you, having never truly realised just how much weight he carries daily.

From a medical kit you had retrieved along with the bacta spray, you begin working to dab gauze and bind his leg with bandages.

Din watches you.

His eyes monitoring your facial expressions, wincing along with his pain. He finds himself starting to calm as he watches you work away. His hand trails subconsciously and tiredly across your shoulder. You notice but try not to seem alarmed by his sudden touches.

Din pushes a strand of your hair back behind your ear, revealing some shiny adornments he remembered noticing once before but never took the time to look at.

Most of the piercings look like parts, screws, and bolts that have been modified into jewellery. An array of colours from dolovite, steel, and gold. Some with attachments hanging down, tickling your neck. Din’s fingers running compellingly across small stones. Some of which he could only identify as Heart of Fire, a burnt orange-red that contrasted perfectly against your skin. He admires them, painting a picture of when you may have gotten such things done.

Had you done it yourself or gone to a vendor?

“Do you like them?” Your quiet voice breaks his trance.

“Hmm?” He hums, his finger smoothing across the arch of your ear thoughtfully, making a shiver run up your spine.

You dare look to him and it’s then he stops his movements having not realised how intimate it seemed.

“My earrings,” you murmur.

Rendering you speechless, he smiles but it’s the smile that’s so heart shattering, it has your knees shaking.

“I do,” he returns tenderly.

You lower your head, trying to hide your flustered expression as you cut the bandage away and rub at his leg gently.

“You’re all good. You need to stay off your feet for a while,” you instruct gently.

“I will. Thank you,” he responds, dropping his hand from your shoulder and assessing the bandage with a grimace.

“You better,” you playfully threaten, holding the scissors to him causing him to grin at you making you blush incredibly and turn away.

Din clears his throat, “We can lay low in Coruscant.”

“Sounds like a plan,” you agree, before getting up to turn your head towards a small green bean of an intruder eavesdropping on your conversation. Your sons little padded footsteps wander over, big brown orbs focused on his fathers injury and whining unhappily.

“It’s okay, bub,” you reassure when he gets close enough to place a small clawed hand on Din’s foot. Din watches you, heart fluttering as you lift your son into your arms and rock him gently. Grogu clings onto your shirt, looking up at you and then back to his father, clearly still distressed.

“Is he okay?” Din inquires, trying and failing to lean forward off the control panel behind him.

“Shaking but he’ll be okay,” your eyes run protectively over your son, fingers stroking light touches over his ear.

You walk over to Grogu’s chair, sitting him down while Din attempts standing up uneasily before limping over to the both of you. At the sound of his footsteps, you turn swiftly, eyes narrowing on him and arms folding disapprovingly.

“What did I say, Din?”

He sighs, “I know what you said.” He hobbles over and puts a hand on Grogu’s head, towering over you both. “I just want to check on the kid.”

“He’s okay,” you reassure gently but firmly.

“And you?” You feel so small compared to Din when he moves closer, his head just above yours with warm eyes fixating down at you with concern.

You nod and give him a small smile, “I’m okay.”

Din nods back slowly and you watch his eyes run over your features almost trying to gauge an understanding that you’re not lying to him. It seems what he finds there eases him and his shoulders finally relax.

“Good. I’m sorry about that. Thank you for having my back,” you close your eyes when he lets his forehead knock yours carefully. You smile nervously when you feel his other hand touch your waist ever so gently, arm curving around your lower back to pull you closer. You breathe him in, adoring this domestic side of him. Each hand protectively holding the two people most dear to him.

“Of course,” you lean into him, your nose gently nudging his. Din smiles.

Grogu cooes at you both.

“You should rest,” you open your eyes, meeting Din’s affectionate but tired gaze. He nods and gently sways your body contentedly in his hold.

“We all should,” he looks back to Grogu, his grabby hands flailing towards the Crests shifter knob. Din reaches for it and you watch him pass the small ball to the babbling child, “It’ll take some time to get to Coruscant.”

#din djarin x reader #mando x reader #the mandalorian #mandalorian imagine #joelsbloodyhands writes #pedro pascal characters #din grogu #star wars #star wars fanfiction #din djarin x you #din djarin one shot #Pedro Pascal character imagines #mando x you

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hyperactively-me · 1 year ago

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sharing a bed

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

just wanted to ask you guys to please read this

(asks are open)

happy reading

warnings: none

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No.”

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

“No, I mean…”

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, of course, I’m sorry–”

“No, it's not your fault–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

- - - - -

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

Din.

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

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

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

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

“Hi” you whisper.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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papurgaatika · 7 months ago

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Reason Comes on the Common Tongue of Your Loving Me

Pairing: Din Djarin x F! Reader

Minors DNI with my work please !!

A/N: Happy happy mando Monday!!! this has been a long time coming, I started this at the end of March and then got swamped with family and finals and I JUST got some time off to relax thankfully. thank you my loves @joelsdagger and @carlynkurin for beta testing, your screams in the comments continue to feed my delusions. Din Djarin you are my sweet angel baby ilysm. And yes the title is ONCE AGAIN from a hozier song, I didn’t actually mean for it to happen this time but it just felt right. Thank you for reading and i love yall <3

Tags: brat taming, overstimulation, edging, oral (m! receiving), dom reader, dry humping, mild degradation, praise, cumplay, spit kink, d/s dynamics, use of pet names (baby, sweet/pretty boy, sun and moon), Din Djarin loves tummy and thighs (canon, i said so), fluff, a few slaps, no use of Y/N Word count: 2.5k

Summary: A week away from each other leads your sweet boy to act out, forcing you to remind him of the rules.

It had been a long week for both you and Din. He had been out chasing a bounty for about two days longer than either of you had expected, leaving you both pent up and in dire need of each other. He had finally made it back to the crest, covered in dirt, blood, and other substances you weren’t sure you wanted to ask about. You roll over in the bunk to watch him strip his armor off and shoot him a lazy smile. He presses a soft kiss to your head before making his way into the fresher to wash off all the grime that undoubtedly clung to his skin. You hum contentedly and roll back over, still half asleep, but throw the blankets off of your body knowing full well that Din was going to warm the bed up like a furnace and you weren’t going to deal with twice the heat.

You were half asleep by the time he walked out of the fresher, and felt him slide up behind you, shifting so that your thighs were pressed up against his. And maker did he love your thighs, especially when he could see the plush of your skin when you wore one of his old shirts. He loved how strong they were, how he could see the muscles while you worked on the crest, how they felt around him when you sat on his face, how soft they were in moments just like these. You giggle lightly when his fingers brush up against a ticklish spot and roll over to face him, pressing a kiss just over the pulse point on his neck. Din tucks his chin over your head and lets his fingers dance over the skin of your waist, moving down to your tummy and just holding you, admiring how lucky he was to be with someone who made him feel this safe.

“Missed you, my Moon,” you mumble into his neck, tucking one of your legs over his, biting back a sleepy grin when you can feel his length pressing into you. “You miss me too sweet boy?” You hear him let out a small whimper, nodding when he presses into your thighs again, his cock straining against his pants. “‘S’okay, baby. Go ahead. Want you to feel good for me.” You can barely hear Din mumble out a soft thank you, his voice between a sigh and a moan, before letting himself rut against you.

Seeing Din like this was truly exhilarating for you. It didn’t matter how long the two of you had been together, or how many times you saw him like this, there was something special about seeing the difference between him as The Mandalorian and seeing him as Your Din. When you two were in public, under the prying eyes and the weight of him in the armor, his restraint was unmatched. Controlled and reserved, never doing as much as to ask for something he needed, simply taking it. But when it was the two of you, he was truly all yours. Pliant and complacent to the things you ask of him. If you say stop, he stops. If you tell him to keep going, he keeps going. Your good boy.

One of your hands makes its way up to stroke his curls, unruly and damp from his shower, and much longer than he likes to keep it; you need to remind him to let you cut it again. Your nails rake against his scalp and you can hear his breaths starting to come out in soft needy pants. His fingers dig into the soft flesh of your hips as he grinds against you. He was your good boy, you loved him, but you were also a little mean, whispering that he needs to stop softly into his ear. “Din, enough.” Your voice was growing sterner, not usually having to repeat yourself to him. But there you were, repeating your instructions to your sweet darling boy, who was so close to cumming he could barely comprehend the words leaving your lips. His fingers tighten around your hips, and his lips part open, a broken moan falling from between them as he cums against your thighs.

You pull your lips away from his ear and grab his jaw, squeezing and tilting it so that his gaze meets yours. He blinks in an attempt to focus on you, small beads of sweat rolling down his forehead, breathing shaky, blissed out on his orgasm. You raise an eyebrow at him, lips pressed into a thin line, waiting, more patiently than you should, for him to either explain himself or apologize. “Nuh uh, none of that. Look at me.” He refuses to meet your eyes, opting to nuzzle his head into the crook of your neck and leave open-mouthed kisses instead of saying anything. “Use your words. What’s the rule, I know that you know what it is.” You twist out of his grasp to sit on top of his hips, a whine leaving his lips when he feels the pressure of your body over his.

Din’s eyes finally met yours, big brown puppy dog eyes that were almost warm and desperate enough to allow him off the hook. Almost.

“‘M’not supposed to cum until you tell me to..” You can see his lips tremble softly, waiting for your response ever so patiently. You shift slightly so that your weight is pressed against his dick, still sensitive and softening inside his pants.

You tsk at him lightly and let your eyes rake over his body. He truly was beautiful. All tanned skin, with scars he lets you kiss and muscles you get to massage. All yours. “You know the rules so well but can never seem to follow them, baby..” You let out an exaggerated sigh and shake your head at him. “It’s almost pathetic how needy you get. Can't even wait to let me touch you properly.” You push yourself off of his lap and move to one side of him, shooting him a look when he tries to grab you, before sliding your hands to the waistband of his pants and pulling them off. “Oh baby,” you croon, “You made such a mess of yourself.” You swipe your fingers across the cum in his underwear and raise them to his lips. “Open.” Din complies immediately, his lips parting and taking your fingers into his mouth, tongue swirling across them. You press down on his tongue forcing his mouth open, before leaning down and spitting in his mouth. A strangled moan emits from the back of his throat before you remove your fingers and let him swallow, “Finally following directions. Good boy.”

“Now,” you tilt your head, an expression of mock pity plastered to your face, “What am I supposed to do with you now, hmm?” You chew on the inside of your cheek and drum your spit-covered fingers over the toned muscle of his thigh, not touching his cock but sitting close enough that a movement of your fingers sent a shock through his core. “I could.. tie you up and make you watch me get off?” Your hand slides further up his thigh, “Think you’d like that one too much though.” You let your nails swipe softly over his thigh, relishing the feeling of the goosebumps forming on his skin. “I could just not touch you for the foreseeable future, finally teach you how to mind your manners?”

The effort he had been making to stay still and composed falters at your words. “Nonononono, please-” You raise your eyebrows at his begging, eyes narrowing as he continues. “Anything else, please I’ll be good I promise.” You let out a small puff of laughter, genuinely amused by his pleas, before giving a kiss to his thigh.

“Okay, sweet boy, not that one either then.” Your hand finds its way to his cock and softly palm over it, watching his hips jolt, either into or away from your touch. You aren’t sure that either of you knows which one it truly is.

“Fuck-wait-sensitive,” a pitiful whine leaves Din’s mouth. His eyes roll back and shut before snapping back open to meet yours when you give him a few light slaps to his cheek.

“Oh I know you must be, my poor baby” You take your hand away to lick a stripe across your palm before bringing it back to his cock. “That’s just too bad, hmm? Maybe if you knew how to follow rules we wouldn’t be in this situation right now.” You let your hand curl around the base of his dick, now red and leaking precum, basking in the broken whimper that leaves his lip when you give a small squeeze. “Never listen to me, never fucking learn your lesson either. What am I supposed to do with you?”

You take your hand away and situate yourself so you’re straddling one of his thighs, your cunt so wet that he can feel your slick through your panties. You move one hand to palm over his cock, slow and gentle before squeezing with your other again. “Maker, fuck- I’ll be good, I promise I’ll be so good for you, please.” You smile at the pure beauty of the sight that lay in front of you. Head thrown back on the pillows, eyes clamped shut, mouth open and begging for you. Your beautiful boy.

“Oh baby I know you will.” You squeeze your hand a bit tighter and move the other faster, getting him as close to the edge as you possibly can. “Oh sweetheart, I can feel you shaking. What do you want, my Moon?”

“Stars- I need to cum, please please I’ll be good I’m sorry.” The words tumble out of his mouth almost incoherently, so fast and repetitive he barely makes sense. You force yourself to bite back the grin that was playing its way on your lips and press a soft kiss to his head before stilling your hand.

“I don’t think so, baby,” you loosen the grip you had wrapped around the base of his cock, taking the look of absolute desire and despair in his eyes. His hips, always having a mind of their own, were met with a sharp slap when they continued to buck into the air, trying to chase your touch. “Oh come on, do not give me that look. You have to learn your lesson somehow. It is not my fault you’re a needy slut.” You sigh with mock pity lacing your voice and features. You slide off of his thigh to settle between his legs, looking up at him through your eyelashes. You press a soft kiss to the head of his cock, spreading the precum over your lips. “You are so fucking pretty. My pretty boy.”

Din’s breathing is shallow and fast, attempting to regulate his body. His head is still thrown back, with one hand fisting the sheets to stop himself from reaching out to you, and his other hand tucked over his face. “Look so needy like this baby,” you lick a stripe from the base of his cock to the tip, watching how it twitches under the gentle sensation of your tongue. “Are you not embarrassed by how pathetic you get for me?” you lick another stripe back down to the base “About how pathetic you get?”

Din simply mumbles out a quiet just for you, only to cut himself off with a strangled whine when you take the head of his cock into his mouth, sucking softly at the tip. You swirl your tongue around him, before taking him deeper into your throat, broken moans leaving his mouth. You pull off of him for a moment to let a string of spit fall onto his cock before taking him back into your mouth. You can feel the strain of his thighs, the sheer concentration it was taking him not to move, to be your good boy.

“Okay, okay, baby,” you say, placing soft kisses over the shaft of his dick, “You can use my mouth, I want you to use my mouth, but do not cum, understood?” You hear him whimper out a gentle yes ma'am before you take him back into your mouth, letting him set the pace this time. Unlike what you had expected, his thrusts were not hard and fast, mostly just trying to get you to take him deeper, restraining himself so he doesn’t cum. You feel him hit the back of your throat and moan around him, making his hips jolt in your mouth.

Your eyes flutter shut as you breathe his scent in through your nose, taking all of him in. Wanting to be consumed by and to consume him. You bob your head up and down, meeting the thrusts of his hips. You can feel the mess of your spit on him, moaning at how filthy the sounds you two make are.

“Wait wait- fuck- my Sun, fuck- gonna cum,” Din’s voice is desperate and pitched up. You can feel his muscles tighten and see his eyes grow wide as he bites into his fist trying to keep his moans at bay when you hollow your cheeks out around him.

“‘S’okay baby,” you say, pulling off of him, licking another stripe from the base, “Want you to cum on my face. Can you be good for me and do that?” You let your face rest on his thigh, next to his cock as you watch him start to come undone for you.

His forehead and chest are covered in a sheen of sweat and his breathing is erratic. You spit in his palm and watch as he strokes his cock, fucking his own fist for you. His lip trembles with grunts and moans as his orgasm hits him, cum landing over your lips and cheek. You look at him with a cheeky grin on your face before swiping it off with your finger, taking it into your mouth, and sucking it clean with a pop as it leaves your mouth.

“You did so fucking good for me, sweet boy. Always do so well for me.” You smile as you prop yourself up and take in his fucked out expression, before moving to lay next to him again. You press a soft kiss to his temple, still covered in sweat, and murmur a soft I love you so much into his skin. Din looks down at you with a sleepy smile of his own, before trailing his hand down between your thighs, to be met with a small shake of your head. “Not now, my Moon, just rest okay?”

You move his hand so that it rests across your waist, feeling his rough fingers gently tracing patterns into your skin. “Wanna take care of you too, my Sun,” His eyes meet yours. Big and beautiful and pleading to please you, to be yours.

You just press a kiss to his pout feeling a smile forming on his lips. “Later, my Moon, we have all the time in the galaxy. Just shut your eyes and rest. I love you.” You feel your eyes starting to slip shut again, faster than you had expected, but not unwelcome.

Din just presses your body closer to his and nuzzles his face into your neck. “I love you too, my Sun. Forever and always.”

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stardust-and-snickerdoodles · 4 months ago

Text

you're not in the dark; but far from the light pt. 2

part 1

fandom: The Mandalorian

pairing: Din Djarin x Reader

summary: After a bounty hunt gone wrong, Din must take care of your wounds and watch over your recovery. Things get dicey, buckle up! (Din's POV)

tags/warnings: angst, injury, blood, fevers, hallucinations, hurt/comfort

word count: 1977

Since your initial injury, Din has had an almost sixth sense that tells him when something is wrong. So when he wakes suddenly in the middle of the fourth night, his heart is already racing.

Before he's even up and out of bed, he hears you moving around restlessly. By the time he reaches you, you’re awake and shivering. The Mandalorian rests the back of his hand against your forehead. His stomach drops as he feels the burning heat radiating from you and the thin sheen of sweat on your brow. He lets out a curse as he retrieves the medpack.

Your normally clear and lucid voice is slurred as you call his name, and his heart breaks at the sound. He does his best to keep his own voice level as he explains your condition.

When he looks up at you again, you’ve already drifted back into sleep. Din peels back the blanket from your damp skin before pulling up the shirt to reveal your wound. He removes the dressings and swallows down the bile that threatens to make an appearance at the sight.

The stab wound is red and inflamed, leaking fluid from around his piss-poor suture job. Despite knowing there wasn’t much else he could do, Din kicks himself for not cleaning out the wound better. If he’d used more antiseptic, or if he’d gotten the blade out faster… it doesn’t matter now. What matters is getting the infection and your fever under control.

Din rustles through the medpack, hoping to find anything to help. He’s well stocked on the Crest, thankfully, due mostly to your overprotective nature (and perhaps your obsession with hoarding interesting supplies from every planet you visit). He manages to locate some ice packs that activate by air exposure, and quickly places them under your armpits, between your legs, and at the back of your neck. They won’t last long, but hopefully they can bring your temperature down quickly.

Din also finds some medicine that’s vaguely labeled as “fever.” For a moment he curses your lackluster organizational skills, because he’s not sure if these are supposed to induce fever or keep it down. He doesn’t want to take the chance though, and besides, there’s no way he could get you to swallow anything right now. He stuffs them back in the pack.

Din rustles through the other contents one more time, pulling out more supplies to change your dressing. He sets the medpack on the floor before going about cleaning up the wound as best he can.

You’re still shivering, and Din’s doing his best to be gentle. He carefully wipes away all the fluid and gives the whole thing a big douse with antiseptic before wrapping it back up with clean gauze. It’s a questionable job at best, but it’s the most he can do for now.

The Mandalorian settles cross-legged onto the floor to watch over you. He tries not to let his worries get the best of him. You’ll pull through this; you have to. Din doesn’t know what he’ll do if you don’t.

You bring an air of lightness and peace to the Crest. The idea of that being gone, of Din being on his own again… he doesn’t even want to entertain that.

So he keeps a watchful eye on you, through the night and well into the morning. You wake only for brief moments so Din can get you to drink some water, but even your sleep is restless as the fever and infection ravage your body. Each time you let a soft moan or move about, Din’s heartrate skyrockets. He has to reassure himself that you’re still here, still fighting.

Around midday, as Din is removing the now-warm ice packs, he notices your moans have turned into soft cries. The change is worrying, and it almost sounds like you’re in pain even while you’re asleep.

Din thinks it will settle eventually, but a few minutes later your cries have only grown louder and you’re beginning to roll around on the cot. The Mandalorian worries that you’ll tear your stitches by moving so much.

Din murmurs your name, resting a gentle hand on your cheek. “Wake up.”

Your eyes flutter open, but they’re glazed over and unfocused. Din can tell you’re not all there, but at least you’re semi-conscious.

“I’m awake,” your voice is quiet and hoarse. Without warning, you raise your hand and begin to wave it around your face. “Leave me ‘lone. Wan’ sleep.”

Din’s brow furrows with worry. The fever must be higher than he thought if you’re so disoriented. He’s not sure what you’re doing with your hand, but it almost looks like you’re trying to keep something away from your face. “Cyar’ika,” he murmurs, “you’re dreaming. You’re safe. I’m here.”

You don’t seem to register his voice. Instead, you bring your other hand up to your face as well. After a few moments, you start to scratch at the skin on your face weakly, and your nails leave raised red welts. Din doesn’t want you to hurt yourself further, so he gently pries your hands away and keeps a light grip around your wrists. He whispers soothing words to you as you mumble something about bees.

“I have you,” he reassures. “I have you. Rest now.”

Eventually you stop struggling against his hold and your eyes fall shut again. Once he’s sure that you won’t continue scratching, Din releases your wrists and examines the new marks on your face. They’re all surface level, and for once the Mandalorian is thankful that the fever has made you so weak. A bit of bacta spray and these will heal in no time.

Din takes care of the scratches with ease before placing fresh ice packs on you. He’s slightly worried that the fever doesn’t seem to be diminishing at all, despite the fact that it’s been almost 12 hours. In fact, when he rests a hand against your forehead, it seems you’ve grown even warmer.

He tries not to let worry get the best of him and instead keeps himself busy with changing your dressings again and placing a cool washcloth on your forehead. He settles back onto the floor, ever watchful and on guard.

Sometime before sunset, you begin mumbling in your sleep. For a moment Din thinks you’re awake again, but your eyes are closed and your breathing is still slow and even. Din shushes you gently, placing a hand on your forearm to reassure you of his presence. He isn’t even sure how cognizant you are, but he’d rather provide comfort anyway than let you think you’re alone.

Finally, Din is able to make out what you’re saying. You’re speaking broken Mando’a, just a few words and phrases that he’s been teaching you in your spare time.

“Gedet’ye…” your voice is soft and Din’s heart breaks just a little. “Me’bana…?”

“Shh,” Din replies, “Udesii; ni’m olar, mesh’la.”

His words seem to calm you because you go silent once more.

You remain asleep for the rest of the night, apart from one moment when you try to remove the washcloth. Still, Din stays at your side, checking your temperature with a hand to your forehead every hour. He almost feels confident that the fever will break soon.

Unfortunately it seems that this is wishful thinking because in the morning, before Din has even placed his hand on your head, he can already feel the heat coming off of you in waves. It’s the warmest you’ve been, and your clothes are drenched in sweat. The Mandalorian berates himself for not getting you into something cooler, for not noticing that your fever had skyrocketed sooner.

He quickly retrieves a change of clothes for you, a tank top and a pair of shorts, as well as another cool washcloth. A small part of him feels guilty for undressing you, but this is no time for modesty. Besides, you’ve seen each other in more revealing ways than this before.

Once he’s removed your sweat-soaked clothing, he glides the cool washcloth over your bare skin with great care. His movements are gentle and slow. Once he’s finished, he carefully sits you up to get you into the new clothes before placing even more ice packs on your shivering form. Through it all, your eyes remain closed and Din tries not to feel so scared at your lack of response.

Din feels incredibly useless as the hours pass and your fever shows no sign of reducing. He replaces the ice packs every hour like clockwork and sponges down your skin with a washcloth, but still you remain unconscious and burning. At this point, the Mandalorian worries about you cooking your brain and briefly considers taking you to see a doctor, but he doesn’t want to risk entering hyperspace with you so unstable. Not to mention piloting the ship would mean he would have to leave your side, and he doesn’t think he can handle that now.

After a few hours, he attempts to rouse you to get you to drink some water. He gently lifts you into a sitting position, one arm secure around your waist to keep you upright. Your eyes flutter open but fall closed almost immediately.

“Come on, cyar’ika,” Din insists. “Wake up.”

“Cold,” you mutter, and your voice is almost unrecognizable.

“I know, I know,” Din’s own voice breaks. “But I need you to have some water for me.” He thinks he sees you nod, and brings a cup with a straw up to your lips. “Drink,” he commands gently. You take a few sips before coughing most of it out. The water dribbles down your chin and Din uses the corner of a blanket to gently wipe it off. “Jate,” he praises. “One more time.” You manage to swallow a few sips before your eyes fall shut again.

Din rests you back down on the cot, rearranging the ice packs around you once more before taking up his now-familiar place on the floor. At this point, his own restlessness is getting the best of him. His limbs feel heavy and cumbersome, even without the beskar armor. Still, he is used to sleepless nights. He cannot rest until you’re well again.

The rest of the second day and night passes by slowly, with Din almost obsessively checking on you every hour. He feels a sliver of relief when he notes your breathing deepen and your shivering lessen. A hand to your forehead confirms that your temperature has gone down slightly.

The third morning while changing your dressings, Din notes that the inflammation around the wound has lessened and there’s no longer fluid seeping from the stitches. Just for good measure though, he covers the whole thing in bacta spray before rewrapping it.

You rest what seems to be peacefully for the entire day, waking to drink a small amount of water before falling back asleep. Your temperature continues to decrease and the tension very slowly leaves Din’s body.

It's impossible to describe the relief that washes over the Mandalorian when you finally wake the next day, eyes no longer glassy and skin no longer burning. It’s like there’s been an elephant sitting on his chest the past three days and now he can finally breathe again.

You’re still weak and forgetful, but it's a major improvement. Din doesn’t hesitate to oblige when you ask him to lay with you. Feeling your warm skin against his chest, hearing your breathing even out as you fall asleep again, it's the closest thing to comfort he's had in a long time. His hold on you tightens just a bit as he recalls how worried he was for you. But now that's over, and he can work on getting you back on your feet. As long as you don't throw any more surprises at him.

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