#mandalorian x adopted!reader

[starlight-starwrites]

forehead kisses

din djarin x reader

summary: after din takes karga's offer of a cabin on nevarro, you find yourself joining the mandalorian and his adopted son on their bounty hunting adventures. or, five times you kiss the helmet and the one time you kiss him. wc: 3k warnings: some description of injuries, and my personal fave, yearning pining aching longing with heavy doses of fluff and smooching, and i revive a fan favorite character (the Razor Crest) note: banner by @janaispunk and fic written for her 1500 kisses celebration! i got the prompt forehead kisses and could not stop thinking of the potential. thank you so much for hosting this little challenge and congratulations jana!!!

The cockpit is quiet when you climb up. Din sits in the pilot’s seat, the only acknowledgment he knows you’re here is a slight turn of his head. You come to stand at his shoulder and gaze out the viewport at the expanse of stars.

“Call go well?”

“New job.”

“That’s fast,” you say. “Didn’t even get him back the last one.”

“Hot priority. Quarry is supposedly in this system.” Din relaxes back into the chair, finally turns to you. “The kid?”

“Asleep,” you answer. “Think he wore himself out with the…” you wave your hand in the mimic of the child’s magic. “He really likes playing with the new droid.”

Din grunts. “At least someone does.”

You laugh. “Be nice! R5 is very well-behaved.”

You hear his sigh through the helmet before he asks, “You don’t mind the detour?”

“No, of course not.” You lean your hip on the side of the chair, and Din’s bracer brushes your leg.

Your time spent traveling around with the Mandalorian and his adopted son has actually been some of the most relaxing bounty hunting you’ve ever done. They’re both more polite than you expected and it feels…domestic, even if the stream of gunfire and criminal cargo never stopped.

Din Djarin has been a surprise as well. What started as professional camaraderie has developed into an unspoken tenderness that puts a smile on your face and—if he ever took off the helmet to show you—maybe on his too.

“I can prep your locker and the carbon freeze. How long to the designated point?” You push off the chair where he sits.

“About an hour.” He looks up at you, reaches to squeeze your hand. “Thank you.”

You bend forward to press a quick kiss to the crown of his helm. “Don’t worry about it.”

You’re still smiling when you make it down to the hull of the Crest.

.

Nevarro was not the sort of planet you would think of as relaxing, but between Karga’s development of a well-respected port city and Din keeping one of the most quaint cabins you’ve ever visited, it has been the only place you can relax.

You carry a tin plate from the Mandalorian’s kitchen to the next room. Through the window you watch the kid wobble over the rocks to chase after a desperate frog. By now, the little critters know when he’s coming. At the table, Din sits scrolling through a datapad.

“Dinner is served,” you announce.

His visor raises to meet your gaze when you enter. “I could have gotten it.”

“I know.” You incline your head to the pad. “I had a feeling Greef got to you already. More work? We only got back this morning.” You set dinner in front of him, come around his side to look at the file over his shoulder.

“Just a side project,” he says. He closes out of the screen before you can read. “It can wait.”

“Well, well,” you say, raising your hands. “Keep your secrets then.”

He leans back in his chair to face you. “It’s not a secret.” His voice is dry, but he knows you’re teasing. “I wanted to thank you. You…saved my life today.”

“Oh, that?” It’s true. He fell off a building. You actually let him, before you remembered he wasn’t wearing his jetpack. In some odd stroke of luck you’d managed to steal some poor sod’s skyspeeder, catch the free-falling Mandalorian, and total the quarry’s speederbike in one arc with no casualties. “Hm, yes, I was thinking you should be the one serving me dinner.”

“Maybe I will.”

The way he says it catches you off guard. Your heart skips a beat.

“Next time then.” You smile, marvel at the frantic beating in your chest. Then you bump his shoulder with your hip. This time you’re bold enough to place a finger under the edge of his helmet, tilt his head a little more. You place a kiss to where his forehead would be. “Don’t worry, I’ll let you eat in peace.” You nod at the food getting cold, and leave him to do just that.

.

The hull of the Razor Crest is hard at your back. You sit on the floor, shoulder to shoulder with the Mandalorian.

“You know as much as I love the Crest…maybe it’s time to consider—”

“No.”

You sigh. The ship has landed ‘safely’ you’re glad to say. Grogu sits in Din’s lap. R5 is…a little banged up, but fine. The rest of the Crest? Complete disarray. Anything not tied down has been flung around, and there is a gaping hole across from where the four of you sit.

“She is an old ship.”

“She has seen worse.”

Sadly, you believe it. You lean closer to him, let yourself feel the relief of having made it. He leans into you, and the kid lets out a small sound like he’s disappointed too.

“Think we can find a mechanic for this one?” You raise a hand to gesture at the torn metal and frayed wires that frame the picturesque view of open fields and rock spires beyond them. Of all the places to be attacked, here is pretty nice.

You let your head fall to the side. Din shifts with a sigh, and his temple rests against yours. “We’re going to need more than a mechanic.”

You snort. After the distress of the last hour, it feels nice to sit like this. To relax. If that’s what you can call it.

You want to curl up beside him, long to know what it would be like for him to hold you. Part of you thinks he would, if you asked. But still you say nothing, content with the small doses of affection you give each other now. Closeness that is expected - known - but goes unspoken. You turn your head, and your lips brush over his helmet, just above his visor. His head stays tilted down, allowing it. He sighs when you move away.

“We should get to work.”

“Yeah.”

A tether pulls as you both stand to get things in order. Connection. Longing. You wonder if he feels it too. You brush a hand over your lips, savor the feeling of cool metal.

.

You don’t like it. Not one bit. But you understand. With every day that passed, you’ve been feeling worse—caught some bug on one of the trips you’ve made in the last week. It started with a cough, and now you can barely speak. You’re tired, and drained, but still you managed to stay on the ship with the Mandalorian. He wasn’t about to let R5 stay alone with the kid, and to be honest, you think he’s gotten used to having the backup. You have to be content he’s letting you do as much as he is.

“If they give you any trouble at the dock just send them this.” He presses something on his vambrace, and you check over codes on your datapad. You nod confirmation. “Keep the engine running. I shouldn’t be long, and if they decide they want a look at our cargo…”

You both turn to face the short line of frozen criminals.

“You’ll have to make a quick getaway.”

The problem you’ve found with working on newly established New Republic territories is the freedoms of the Outer Rim are being slowly taped over in red. Even bounty hunting hasn’t escaped the notice of the bureaucracy. Din hates it. You hate it even more. And now here he is going out alone to find a rich slimeball that likely paid his way into immunity with the New Republic officers here. Stuck sitting in the pilot’s chair was hardly helping. You nod anyway, watching as he straps on more weapons and gear discreetly into his armor. A knife slips into a hidden sheath under his chest plate. You try to be comforted that at least if he doesn’t have you, he’s well equipped.

You clear your throat, hopefully in a way that he understands your upset. You’ve mostly communicated with him about this job in a series of frowns.

He sighs. “I know.”

You huff.

“I know,” he says again.

Your shoulders slump, and you don’t know how else to tell him right now, so you tuck your pad under your arm and reach for him.

He’s slow to it, but he folds his arms around you to return your hug, awkwardly patting your back before holding you closer. You pull away after a moment, and take his helmet between the palms of your hands. You search his visor, wondering if he really does know.

His hands come under your arms to hold your elbows, thumbs rubbing in a comforting manner. You pull him toward you, rest your forehead against his.

Come back safe, you think. Come back to me.

His hands squeeze tighter. He must know. Surely, he must know.

You pull from him, but keep hold of his head and tilt. You press a kiss to where you rested your head just a moment before, willing his safety. Then you let go before you do anything else. Perhaps it’s good you lost your voice. His hands slip from you when you take a step back, though one hovers between your bodies like he’s not sure. You watch it drift down slowly.

Behind you, Grogu coos a goodbye, but you don’t take your eyes from Din. He looks down for a moment then back to you. Another beat, then he nods. You return it. He walks down the ramp of the hull, and you watch him until it closes, sealing you and the kid inside.

You press your fingers to your mouth. Come back safe.

.

Your hands shake as you pull away fabric and leather. The Mandalorian’s chest plate, marked with carbon scoring, rests on the ground beside him.

“Should have been here,” you whisper. Your voice isn’t better, but you try. You press a bandage to the wound, ignoring the way his blood sticks to your fingers.

“The kid…”

“Safe. On ship.”

Din’s hand clasps around your wrist. “They’ll find—”

You shake your head. You didn’t like it either. Your only comfort was that R5 could pilot the Razor Crest if absolutely necessary. The ship was locked and sealed tight to protect both of them while you found Din.

“I moved ship,” you croak. “They safe for now.”

You can’t see how far the wound reaches—his skin is covered in blood, soaking his clothing over his shoulder and neck. Does it go under his helmet too? Din takes your hand, halting your frantic search. You stop, eyes darting over his visor as though you’ll find answers.

“We have to go.” His voice is strained, but he is right. You can’t stay. Most of your medical supplies are stored on the Crest.

“Din…” his name is barely more than a breath through your lips. You want to say so much. Look at him, barely lucid himself, slumped and abandoned for dead when you arrived. You fear for him, even now that you are here.

“I’m…okay.” He takes his hand from yours and moves to cup your face instead. You can smell the old leather of his gloves, feel the rough patches on your cheek. But his hold is firm, grounding you back to him. “I’m okay. I just need you to help me there.” He breathes heavy, and so do you, but you can see his resolve once more. He’ll make it.

Tears spring at your eyes, and your bloodied hands grasp the sides of his helmet, mirroring how he holds you. You lean in, press a kiss to his forehead. And then another. And another. Then one more for good measure.

He has to know what he does to you. The bandage is pressed to his wound and tucked under the straps of his armor. You’ll have time to properly heal him later. He does his best to help replace his chest plate.

You take his good arm around your shoulders, wrap your arm at his waist. With your help, he stands. The coast is clear for now, and the two of you creep down the streets in the direction you hid the Crest. He follows you without question, each of you pulling the other closer at every turn—so close your shadows become one.

The image follows you all the way back to the ship—haunting you the same as the memory of cold metal against your lips.

.

The lava flats are quiet this evening. The sun sets behind a smattering of clouds, painting the sky an orange-pink you aren’t accustomed to seeing. The view from the Mandalorian’s front porch is unobstructed.

So here you sit, here you stare. You’re not sure when it happened, but it feels like home.

A steady beat of footsteps interrupts the quiet, and Din walks out of the doorway. He pauses there before crossing your view to join you on the bench. His movements are slow, and he’s not wearing his full armor where he’s covered in bandages. You sit up straight, gaze tearing from the sky to follow him. Your hand settles on his arm as he seats himself beside you.

“How are you feeling?” he asks.

“Better. Much better,” you say, eying where a bandage disappears under his helmet. “What about you? Doc still expects a full recovery?”

Din nods. “The bandages are just to protect his work. I should be able to take it off tomorrow.”

Upon your return to Nevarro, you had rushed Din to the nearest med center to fix the first aid you had attempted. Whatever device was used to cause the explosion he survived was nothing you had seen before. After a good soak in the bacta tank, some careful skin grafting, and a hefty dose of painkillers, Doc assured you the Mandalorian would be just fine.

Grogu had fussed profusely from your lap, but Din had set firm rules on when the kid was allowed to use his powers. If Din was still conscious to tell him no, then no it was.

“Starting to consider Greef’s offer? Retire as a bounty hunter, become marshal here,” you ask him gently. Karga had offered it to him before, and on several occasions. Still, your Mandalorian found himself back among the the stars. Something felt different this time. The way he settled in to his cabin, sought the comforts of home. The way he let the kid play and wander longer. “It doesn’t sound too bad.”

You filled in for the job when you were on world, worked bounties as they came in when Karga needed it. You knew he hoped Din would take the job—both of you knew he would be the best at it. After following him around the galaxy, seeing him in action, there was no way to deny it.

Din looks away from the sunset to face you. “I admit I’ve been finding more reasons to stay.” His hand takes yours. He’s not wearing his gloves. His skin is rough but warm, and you skim your thumb over his knuckles.

You don’t take your eyes from him even as you lace your fingers with his. The light from the setting sun reflects on the metal of his helmet, and it makes him look softer somehow. Perhaps it is the pink glow or, when you look him over again, you realize the only beskar he wears is his helmet.

Time slows. The moment feels frozen, the cooling evening air, the touch of Din’s shoulder to yours, the pull of your gaze to search for his. His hand reaches for the helmet, lifting it gently from his head.

You don’t move. You are not sure if you can. Lips part, breath stolen. He has tousled brown hair that falls on to his forehead, creases between his eyebrows, wide brown eyes that search yours. You follow the curve of his nose to plush lips that part just as yours do.

You feel the tether once again, pulling you in. All the times you stayed close to his side, all the times you found yourself reaching for him, pressing your lips to his helm in what you hoped spoke of the affection you held. It takes hold of you now, and graciously, seems to take hold of him too.

Your lips meet his. Eyes slip shut. The light of the sun is lost to the warmth of his skin, his breath on your cheek. It’s soft and gentle. Not unlike every kiss you’ve given him since you met. He kisses you now, slow and testing. Slanting his mouth against yours, drawing closer when you don’t move away. His hand cups your cheek, your hand rests on his chest.

He tastes like home.

Your need for air is what interrupts you. Mouth pulling from his, the light sound echoing in your chest. But you don’t pull away. Neither does he.

You rest, tucked in by one of his arms. Your shoulder leaned to his side, his forehead dipped to rest on yours. You smile.

When your eyes finally come to focus again, you can see the curve of his smile too. You want to say something, test the waters of this light feeling dancing over your heart. He lifts his chin first, and his lips press to the crown of your head.

It’s warm. You sink into his embrace, let the feeling wash over you. Both of you linger on that bench, painted over by the fading sunset as a memory of quiet comfort and forehead kisses.

[djarins-cyare]

Never Look Down

Part 1: Din’s Evening

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Prompt: “I don’t know what’s happening but I love it.”

Summary: Din has been ignoring his crush on Grogu’s babysitter for a while now, with varying degrees of success. But after a misunderstanding leads to some revelations, there’s no denying things any longer. Sometimes you just need to look at things from a different perspective.

Rating: Mature (18+) with a smidge of explicit

Pairing: Din Djarin x Original Female Character (for his POV scenes) / Din Djarin x Reader (for her POV scenes)

Word count: 5,330

Tags/warnings: alcohol, drunkenness, vomit (no description), numerous references to erections, some swearing, references to sex, non-explicit smutty thots, Din carries OFC a short distance, masturbation (male, semi-explicit, but I don’t think enough to push up the rating), 3rd person POV (part 2 will be 2nd person POV and OFC will become reader/you).

Author’s note: This was originally supposed to be for @beskarandblasters’ Din Djarin Fic Club Drabble Event, although drabble this is not! Kel said there was no word limit, but it grew so long that I couldn’t even call it a one-shot anymore, so I’m uploading it in two parts to make it easier to read and I think that probably disqualifies it from the Drabble Event. But Kel, thank you so much anyway for the prompt – it resulted in me finally pushing through my writer’s block and finishing/uploading something new, so I’m eternally grateful!

READ ON AO3 (author’s preference)

Tumblr version ahead if you prefer…

He’s panicking. It’s stupid, really – he’s been in situations far trickier and more critical than this. But Karga said he needed help urgently, and now his babysitter isn’t answering her comlink.

Should he just go and leave Grogu here? It’s not like he never left him alone on the ship.

Except… something’s changed since the adoption. Din has started to care what others think of his parenting style. He hears people whisper that fatherhood clearly isn’t coming easily to him (he thought he was doing alright). He watches how his babysitter closely monitors every move the kid makes (the Mandalorians never watched him that closely). He listens when people talk about how they raise their own children (he hadn’t realised it was such hard work). And it’s made him feel as if he’s… lacking.

He hates feeling less than adequate in any area of his life, but somehow, failing as a father cuts deep. Perhaps it’s because he grew up without one. Plus, that scolding Peli gave him after she found Grogu alone on the Razor Crest still haunts him.

Although the Mandalorian method of letting them learn from their mistakes has merit (and it never did him any harm), he wants to be there for his son. So, no. He won’t leave Grogu here alone. He can’t risk him waking up and wondering why nobody comes if he calls. The kid has probably had enough of that in his past.

Why isn’t Maia picking up?

Din paces the cabin’s length, listening to the gentle ping of the comlink as it tries to connect with the one he gave her. Even the soothing pulse doesn’t ease his frustration. Diligent parenting is hard.

Just as he’s wondering if he can wake the kid and bring him along, the comlink crackles to life.

“—know what the stinking stang is wrong with it! Ah, frotz! Hello? Is this thing totally borked?”

For a baffling moment, he can’t work out whether he’s shocked or thrilled. She certainly doesn’t use that type of language around the kid, but he’s delighted to hear her voice nonetheless.

“Maia!” He interrupts her frustrated confusion as loud as he dares, lest he wake the sleeping child downstairs.

“Shiny, hi! It works! What’s up, my metal man? It’s late… is this a booty call?”

Once again, Din can’t decide if he’s shocked or thrilled. However, his dick’s instant twitch of interest proves that it, at least, is clearly siding with the latter. Dank farrik, he wishes it were a booty call. “No, Maia, I need—”

“Course it’s not!” she interrupts, giggling inanely. “Sorry, that was ridiculous, ignore me. Go on, you were saying?”

He takes a deep breath and tries to push past the stab of dismay at her labelling the idea of a booty call as ridiculous. At least she sounds in a happy mood.

“I’m sorry to contact you so late, but Karga has some kind of crisis. IG-11 is still with the Anzellans for repairs after the last crisis, so he’s asked for my help. Grogu’s asleep, but I’m gonna need you to come over and wait at the cabin until I return. I’ll pay you double your usual rate. I just don’t wanna leave him here alone.”

“Suuure! I’ll haul my jets over to you now. Five, ten minutes, tops. If you wanna take off now, I know your door code. I’ll check on the li’l bug as soon as I arrive.”

Din breathes a relieved sigh. “Thank you, I owe you. I shouldn’t be long.”

“Happy hunting, Beskar Boy! Or happy dispute settling!” Maia signs off with a melodic laugh that instantly makes him grin beneath his helmet, despite the stupid nickname.

The grin fades as he processes the meaning of the words preceding her addictive laughter, and he sighs. She’s probably right, although he hopes he’ll at least need his blaster for whatever mess the High Magistrate wants him to clean up.

Karga was once able to intimidate the townsfolk, but these days, they see him as purely a leader and captain of industry. They respect his ability to govern and improve the town – he’s more than proven himself capable in those roles. But whipping out a blaster from beneath those ridiculous robes now gains him little more than dubious raised eyebrows. By contrast, Cara was a fearsome and capable law enforcer, and now IG-11 keeps the citizens in line.

Except a reptavian tore off both of IG’s legs a few nights ago. Apparently, whatever the droid equivalent of ‘sick leave’ is, he’s taking it.

Din doesn’t mind helping out when he’s not on jobs for Carson. As long as Karga doesn’t solicit his help too often, it’s an easy way to make a few extra credits. He supposes that kind of makes him a part-time deputy, though he’ll never accept a title or a contract. But if tonight’s job is nothing more than a neighbour dispute, he’ll be a little peeved. His friend is aware of his skillset and wouldn’t contact him unless it required weapons and armour. He hopes.

He checks on Grogu once more, then equips himself with his usual arsenal, making sure to lock the weapons cabinet behind him. For some reason, his blasters fascinate Maia. He’s given her several shooting lessons, and she always asks to hold them whenever the cabinet’s unlocked. Although he doubts she’d handle them without his permission, he’d rather be present if she’s caressing his things.

Truthfully, he’d prefer it if she handled and caressed something else entirely, though he buries that thought for now. He has work to do, and an ill-timed hard-on would be awkward at best, if not downright perverse. He can torture himself later.

Din wraps up the problem in less than an hour. It does require his blaster, in fact, and he does have to shoot someone. Okay, it’s in the shoulder to disarm him, but the guy is only on his drunken vendetta because he’s heartbroken. He doesn’t deserve to die.

A year ago, he would’ve just shot him in the head and gone home. But he’s lived among the citizens of Nevarro for several months now, and he’s almost starting to feel like part of the community. Passing through it to visit the old covert was different. The Mandalorians were a separate (secret) colony, and he was merely a visitor who lived on his ship. Even though his new home is still on the outskirts, Grogu attends the school in town, and he already knows many of the other parents by name. These days, the market stall owners try to chat with him instead of looking away in fear as they used to.

The guy standing on a table in the cantina tonight with a blaster trained on his ex and her new flame is someone Din recognises. He can’t recall from where, but disarming rather than killing him feels like the right thing to do.

Once he has him in binders, he delivers him to Karga and hurries straight home. The lava flats are quiet and peaceful this time of night, free from the nocturnal bustle of the town and lit only by the celestial display above. There’s no sulphur fog tonight, and the air smells fresh.

But as pleasant as it is, he doesn’t dawdle. Just like every other time he’s left Maia in charge, he relishes the chance to walk into his home and see her there. As if she belongs. He finds that image far more dazzling than the constellations sparkling above him. It’s far sweeter than the fresh air he inhales through his helmet filters as he hastens toward his cabin.

He can’t pinpoint when his interest in her changed from professional to passionate. Grogu made it clear that he liked her best out of the several childminders they auditioned, so he gave her the job. At some point between then and now, he became enamoured with her.

But he can’t do anything about it.

His loyalty to his son means he can’t fuck the babysitter, so for now, Maia belongs to the kid, and Din sleeps alone.

Even though he’s had no serious relationships in the past, he imagines he’d be willing to try it with her. But since it’ll never happen, it’s not worth dwelling on. He’s noticed a few locals checking him out, so he can always approach them if he’s looking to get laid. He’s much more used to casual encounters.

But none of that stops Din from thinking his babysitter is beautiful. It doesn’t stop him from wishing he could run his hands over her welcoming body, indulge in her tender touch and heady scent, sink into her depths over and over until she’s crying out his name as they shatter together in ecstasy….

Dank farrik, he’d better quit thinking like that. He has enough trouble controlling his physical urges around her as it is. In fact, it’s starting to become a problem. He’s lost count of how many times he’s had to dash off and furtively rearrange himself so his stomach padding hides his boner. He can’t wear the flight suits with the tight pants around her anymore, so the looser-fitting ones are getting much more use. In fact, he’s wearing his last pair. (That reminds him: he needs to do laundry tomorrow.)

Maia teases him whenever she can, but it’s always friendly, not flirty, and it doesn’t come close to being sexual. He’s never caught her looking anywhere other than directly at his visor. Still, he can’t help feeling embarrassed whenever something she says or does causes his cock to harden. He simply can’t control it.

Din reaches the cabin and punches in the door code, happy to note that his guest has locked it from inside. Her diligence and attention to detail certainly helped him trust her in his home from the outset of her employment.

Stepping across the threshold, he notices all the lights are out except for the one above the kitchen sink, which is unusual. Stranger still, all it illuminates is a near-full cup of water standing in a pool of condensation.

Nonetheless, it’s bright enough for him to survey the rest of the room cast in shadowed shades of grey.

He can’t see Maia.

Instantly, his heart rate rises, although he doesn’t panic. She’s probably just in the refresher or the kid’s bedroom with him. But the amount of moisture surrounding that cup shows it’s been sitting there almost as long as he was gone, which is curious. And there’s no light coming from downstairs either.

The cabin is small, with an open-plan kitchen and living space, and a staircase leading down to two bedrooms and the refresher. Din’s priority is his son, so he creeps down the ferrocrete steps, well-practised at following the route silently. With his night vision on, he can see that Grogu’s door is open a crack, and he pushes it wider. Little purring snores verify that the kid is sleeping soundly, and he slides the door fully closed to ensure he stays that way. Good.

Since his babysitter wasn’t in that room, and she wouldn’t invade his private space without permission, there’s only one other option. He bypasses his own bedroom opposite Grogu’s and heads to the door facing him – the refresher. He can’t pick up any sounds from within, but he’s not about to invade her privacy by listening too intently. The door is fully shut, but there’s a faint glow through the ventilation grill at the bottom, too weak to be the usual lights. A glowrod?

That’s rather odd. He’s grateful that Maia avoided putting on the hall lights while Grogu’s door was ajar, but she could’ve switched on the refresher lights once inside.

For an unsettling moment, Din isn’t sure how to proceed. He really doesn’t want to interrupt her if she’s busy. But… his instincts are telling him something is off, and he wants to know she’s okay.

He’ll give her a little longer. He’d rather be cautious than a perv.

He retreats upstairs again, conducting a thorough check of the living space and kitchen but finding nothing abnormal or suspicious. Nothing besides that abandoned cup of water, at least. Next comes his nightly check of the cabin’s weak points – the windows and entryway. He secures them all, figuring he can escort Maia out when she’s ready. Tipping away the water, he runs a fresh cup, turns his back to the stairs to lift his helmet and drink, and refills it. Finally, he disarms himself of most of his weapons, leaving one blaster in its holster and his vibroblade in his boot. He likes to bring some of his usual arsenal downstairs with him, even though he has multiple spares in a secure cabinet near his bed.

Which is where he’s headed now. Din sets the drink on his nightstand, switches off his night vision, and switches on the dim bedside light. His guest has seen him armourless a few times before, so he begins removing his beskar and the rest of his kit. He’s almost finished – just his armourweave stomach padding to go – when he hears a thump from the refresher.

In seconds, he’s outside it again, listening intently for any further clues. He’s been in the business of handling unconscious bodies for decades, and that sounded like an unconscious body.

“Maia?” he tries, keeping his voice low to ensure he won’t disturb the kid.

Nothing.

He knocks gently, giving it a few moments.

Still nothing.

Okay, now he’s really starting to worry. He returns to his bedroom, grabs his vambrace, and flicks through his visual settings until he’s replaced his night vision with the thermal overlay. He hopes he isn’t crossing a line here, but what else can he do? Walking to his doorway, he takes a deep breath… and directs his visor at the refresher.

Dank farrik, she’s on the fucking floor. Why didn’t he check sooner?

Jabbing off the thermal overlay, Din throws his vambrace on the bed, then rushes to the refresher door. He keeps his voice low in case he wakes Grogu, hoping it reaches her anyway. “Maia, I don’t know if you can hear me, but I hope you’re decent because I’m coming in.”

He gives her five torturous seconds to respond or get decent if she isn’t already, and then he keys in the override code. The door slides open, revealing his unconscious (but blessedly fully clothed) babysitter slumped near the toilet, lit by a glowrod on the floor next to her. He can now hear her breathing heavily, though it doesn’t sound laboured, just a deep state of sleep.

His helmet isn’t sealed, so straight away, he’s able to detect the lingering smell of vomit. A somewhat grim consequence of being both a bounty hunter and a father means Din can also distinguish types of vomit. Although she has flushed, there’s no air filtration with the lights off, and the residual odour tells him that Maia has been drinking alcohol.

It also explains her unconscious state, so his worry dissipates a little, and mild annoyance starts to creep in.

She agreed to look after his son when she’d been drinking?

He kneels down next to her, laying a hand on her shoulder. “Maia. Wake up.” He shakes her, but she doesn’t stir.

He assumes she slipped from a propped-up position against the toilet, and the thud he heard was her slumping onto the ferrocrete floor. Did she bang her head? If that didn’t wake her… shit.

He tries shaking her again with as much force as he dares, and she groans and curls up even more. She’s fighting it, but he sees consciousness sluggishly returning.

“Maia, it’s Din. Can you sit up?”

“… y’can’t make me sing for the cup….” She’s still half asleep and confused, but that’s not surprising. A few seconds later, she cracks open her eyes, becomes aware of her situation, and slams them shut again. “Oh… fuuuck… no no, m’sorry… so so so s-sorry… please don’t be mad at meee….” She’s tearful and rambling but mostly coherent, even though she’s still curled on the floor with her eyes squeezed closed.

“What happened?” He can’t think of anything else to say until he’s established her culpability. He knows she wouldn’t drink on the job, so she must’ve been drinking earlier this evening. It certainly explains her overzealous response on the comlink. Dank farrik, he should’ve realised. But, no, he was busy revelling in his own drunken high from her joke about it being a booty call. Idiot.

“It was accidet— ac-ci-den-tal,” she continues from her foetal position. “Tried to call you back, but m’comlink’s busted… figured better I’m here drunk than not at all… ’m sorry sorry sorry, kark, pleeease don’t hate me. I jus’ wanted to make sure the li’l man was okay. I didn’t realise how much I’d had till I stood up, n’ it hit me worse on the way over. But Grogu’s fine, I checked. But I’ve grossed up your ’fresher, ’m sorry…”

Din sighs. In the scheme of things, Maia did the right thing. He’d rather she was here puking in his refresher than risk his child waking up alone. And it occurs to him that she achieved a surprising amount while seemingly drunk as a pirate. She secured the cabin, poured herself some water, stomached a few sips, managed to descend the stairs unscathed, and checked on the kid. Then she sealed herself inside the refresher and threw up neatly into the toilet bowl with no spills, even managing to flush before she passed out. And she did all that by the light of a glowrod so she wouldn’t wake Grogu.

In many ways, his babysitter’s actions tonight were more responsible than some of his own questionable choices regarding his son’s safety. He can’t be mad at her.

He tells her so. “I’m not mad, Maia. Thank you for coming over anyway. Can you sit up? I need to know you’re okay.”

Her eyes are still clamped shut, but she cracks them slightly as she tries to push herself off the floor. It doesn’t go well, so Din reaches forward to help, and together, they get her into a stable sitting position. Nevarro’s volcanic environment means the basement maintains a cosy warmth, so he’s not surprised she passed out down here. It’s not exactly soft, but those who grow up in the Outer Rim spend their lives making do. He likes that she’s a survivor. Like him.

“Everything’s s-spinning,” she groans. “N’ my mouth tastes like bantha balls.”

Din suppresses a snort. “Hold on.” He climbs to his feet, retrieves the cup of water from his bedroom, and then passes it to her. “Here, sip.”

After she’s taken a few delicate sips, Maia gives him back the cup. “Don’t wanna puke again.”

“You won’t,” he assures, placing it in her hands again. “Pretty sure you got all the alcohol out of your system already. You gotta rehydrate, or you’ll feel worse.”

Kneeling down next to her again, he watches her try to follow his instruction, pleased she trusts him. He can’t help but admire how adorably dishevelled she is. Her hair is mussed, her clothes are wrinkled, and she keeps pouting between sips… but it’s all so… cute.

Once she’s had half the cup, he accepts it back, though she follows it up with more apologies. “M’so sorry… , m’such a karkin’ idiot… I get it if you don’t want me to look after Grogu anym—”

“Stop,” Din interrupts sharply, unwilling to let her beat herself up. “This is as much on me as it is on you. I didn’t ask you if you were busy. I demanded you come over and bribed you with extra credits. I didn’t question why you sounded different on the comlink. And I didn’t wait for you to arrive. If I’d done any of those things differently, you might not have ended up on my ’fresher floor. So I’m sorry too.” Maia doesn’t reply besides blinking at him a few times, so he asks, “What was the occasion? For the drinking, I mean.”

“One year of freedom from a terrible relationship,” she states resolutely, and for a moment, she seems a little more sober. “Me n’ Zandi, we were both in deep with some mudscuffers who locked us in when we were too young to know any better. But we got lucky. Marshal Dune caught them dealing spice, and now they’re spending a decade mining the asteroid field at the edge of the system. The Nevarran tribunal sentenced them a year ago today, so we drank to celebrate our freedom.”

Din doesn’t really know how to respond. She’s made some previous passing remarks about the toxic relationships she and her friend escaped from, which he’s always taken as hints of her wish to remain unattached. It’s yet another reason he wouldn’t feel right about making any sort of move on her. He settles on, “You… deserve to celebrate.”

“Thanks, Shiny.” He bristles at the nickname out of habit, but he secretly likes that Maia has numerous nicknames for him. “N’ you deserve a ’fresher without a woman on the floor. I should get outta your way, Beskar Boy.”

She tries pushing herself up but instantly becomes dizzy and topples to the side. Din’s naturally quick reflexes kick in, and he positions himself to catch her, letting her fall into his chest as his arm snakes around her back. Before he can even process what he’s doing, he’s slipping his other arm beneath her knees and lifting her up.

“Whoa!” she exclaims, grabbing onto his flight suit with one hand while the other flies to grasp his neck. He almost shivers from feeling her clutch at him so keenly. “I don’t know what’s happening, but I love it! Thanks for the lift, muscles!”

He’s glad his bold move has amused rather than perturbed her, so he doesn’t answer, too busy willing his cock to remain unreactive to this sudden closeness. His main goal is to get her off the ferrocrete floor and put her down somewhere softer as fast as possible. As he elbows open the door and navigates out of the refresher, he makes a split-second decision. His bed is closer than the couch.

“Shiny! This is your bedroom!” Maia whisper-shouts as he steps through the door. At least she’s lucid enough to keep her voice low in case Grogu hears across the hall.

Din grunts in agreement as he approaches his bed and starts carefully lowering her onto it.

She keeps going in a gleeful whisper. “Is this…? Are we…? Kriff, I never thought I’d actually end up in your bed, metal man! I mean, it’s been a dream, sure, but I figured your creed thing meant, like, no sex or whatever. But holy frotz, I guess tonight really was a booty call! Count me the fuck in!”

He’s already laid her down by the time he fully processes her words.

Dank farrik, he’s a fucking idiot.

He will never have sex with any woman in this state. He’s not that kind of guy. The fact that being with Maia is a dream for him too is meaningless, and so is the possibility that she might actually want him. Because does she really? Maybe this is still the alcohol talking. It has to be. Right?

It doesn’t even matter. All Din needs to do is extract himself from this situation in the least awkward way possible and without having to reject her verbally.

But how?

He points a finger at her. “Stay put.” She bites her bottom lip and acknowledges his order with a sloppy salute.

Damn it, the image of her lip caught between her teeth is now burned into his brain, haunting him with forbidden promise.

He pads back to the refresher in his socks and closes the door, relieving himself, flushing, and then pouring some cleaner down the toilet to sit overnight. He then washes up at the sink as fast as possible and refills the cup of water. Returning to his bedroom, Din places the cup on the nightstand along with the glowrod that belongs to his guest.

Speaking of whom…

In his brief absence, Maia has toed off her shoes, stripped naked and strewn her clothes across the floor, and burrowed under his covers. She’s still bleary from the booze, but he sees fire and lust behind her hopeful gaze as she blinks up at him.

It kills him.

He remembers he never finished removing his armour, so he retrieves the vambrace from where he threw it and places it on its shelf. Then he finally removes his stomach padding and puts that away too, directing his visor anywhere except at the naked woman in his bed. He’s doing everything possible to deny the physical reaction her presence is giving rise to.

When he’s done, Din approaches the bed again, acutely aware that she’s tracking him with a hunger he shares but can do nothing about.

Fuck, this is torture. The blanket has slipped down (or maybe Maia has arranged it) so low that it’s daringly close to exposing her nipples. She’s right there, waiting for him. Wanting him.

But she’s drunk. And she’s his kid’s babysitter. He tries to quell his ache by thinking about how she’s thrown up this evening, which would make kissing gross. It helps for a second, although the idea of kissing her at all ends up eclipsing the negatives, and he hardens even more.

Shit, he cannot think about kissing her. Or how naked she is. Or anything like that. Vomit. He should focus on vomit.

Okay. Din taps off the bedside light and picks up the glowrod, then heads to the door in the dark, stumbling over her clothes strewn on the floor. He can’t activate his helmet’s night vision without his vambrace control, but he won’t put it back on just to navigate his escape. Nor will he switch on the glowrod yet because he doesn’t want to see any dismay or regret in her eyes as he leaves her. He wants to remember the hunger he witnessed there.

Hazardous garments notwithstanding, he finds his way to the exit.

Crossing the darkened doorway’s threshold, he whispers, “Get some rest, Maia.” Then he fumbles for the control and taps the door close button, releasing a sigh as it swishes shut behind him.

Switching on the dim glowrod, he traipses upstairs. It’s going to be so kriffing awkward in the morning. Nonetheless, one thought keeps repeating itself to him above all others, one he can no longer prevent his dick from swelling at the prospect of.

Is she really attracted to him?

He has to know.

Din extracts another blaster from his cabinet, knowing he won’t sleep without one beside him. Then he sits heavily on the couch, thinking about how often he used to sleep in his helmet before this cabin became his home. It’s the first place he’s felt secure enough to remove it at night, so he’s no stranger to sleeping beneath his beskar mask. It’s almost a comfort in a way.

With his face covered in a darkened room lit by nothing but a glowrod while those he cares for slumber downstairs, more memories return…

Sitting in the Crest’s darkened cockpit, fucking his fist by the swirling glow of hyperspace, chasing a release during those first stressful days as a fugitive. In theory, if something had pulled him out of hyperspace, someone could’ve quite literally caught him with his dick in his hand. But the odds of anyone being close enough to peer in through the transparisteel at that very moment and notice his furtive actions were slim. Back then, he was so untethered that in his weaker moments, he desperately sought anything that made him feel good. Fleeting moments when he could pretend his life wasn’t falling apart yet again. The risk was worth it.

Here, too, although he’s locked up the cabin and closed the shutters, there’s a risk of Maia sneaking up the stairs and finding him. But a similar desperation fills him now – the utter frustration of loss. Back then, it was the loss of a stable income, the loss of his covert. Now, it’s his missed chance – the loss of what could’ve been with the woman downstairs. And maybe even the total loss of her in his life. Perhaps she’ll be too embarrassed about this evening’s events and quit. Din couldn’t take that, nor could Grogu. It’s why he tried to avoid this.

Can they get past this? Maybe he ought to find someone else to care for the kid. Would that be best? This is getting too complicated. He doesn’t want to think about it anymore.

So, right now, he’ll imagine the positive and lose himself in the fantasy, just like he used to. He’ll think about the hunger he saw in her eyes and let himself believe it wasn’t merely the alcohol. Just for tonight, he’ll believe it’s the truth. The risk, once again, is worth it.

He’s already tenting his loose flight suit pants, so he fumbles to expose himself and relaxes against the couch cushions behind him. The wet spot on his underwear displays just how profoundly turned on he is simply by the idea of being with Maia.

After all the temptation it’s endured this evening, his cock is extra sensitive, so he begins with measured, lazy strokes. Whilst he’d love to revel in the fantasy, he knows he won’t last long. As he imagines joining her in his bed, filling his palms with those half-exposed breasts he saw, pressing his naked body against her, his movements begin to speed up and his pressure increases. Very soon, he’s plummeting toward the edge of ecstasy like a podracer pilot with the finish line in sight.

His helmet tips back to stare at the ceiling as he pictures how it would feel to sink into her warm depths, and the notion ignites his fuse, burning rapidly. It only takes a few more strokes before the powder keg within him explodes into a million tiny raptures. His hips stutter, his muscles clench, and his orgasm tears through his body. He comes hard, and a fractured groan far louder than he’d intended escapes through the modulator as he spills forth his pleasure…

Fucking. Bliss.

Din’s mind is blank for some time, just a sense of fulfilment and contentment gently rippling throughout his relaxed form.

As the real world filters back in, he’s able to think clearly, and he now knows what he has to do. He doesn’t like it, but it’s the mature and sensible option. It’s also a fucking daunting prospect, but he’s faced worse. Has he? Yes, he has. He can do it. 

He tucks himself away and finds a cloth to wipe down the mess on his flight suit. That task makes him realise he’ll have to sneak into his bedroom tomorrow without waking Maia to grab his armour and some fresh clothes. And now he really needs to do laundry tomorrow. The only pants he has left are the tighter ones, which he tries to avoid wearing around her. Great, there’s another reason to dread the morning. Although it’s not as if he’s ever caught her checking out his package – she may tease him verbally, but her gaze is always polite.

For now, he’ll enjoy the security of darkness and the lingering swirl of happy chemicals in his brain.

Din lays down on the couch and switches off the glowrod. With a deep sigh, he surrenders to the relaxing state of comfort brought on by his orgasm, letting himself fall into a contented sleep. Before he drifts off, his last thought is of Maia’s beautiful lips… leaning in for a kiss….

If only.

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Part 2 →

Those of you who've read my work before will be familiar with my copious end notes:

As usual, it’s British spellings I’m afraid. Demographic stats say about 60% of you are American, but I can’t help where I was born, so sorry about all the extra ‘u’s and ‘l’s and for using ‘s’ where you would expect ‘z’. However, I’ve channelled my inner linguist and used American language and speech patterns since the show is filmed in the US and Din’s accent is American. All other wording is internationally neutral, including Maia’s dialogue (since the next chapter is written from her POV and I’ll be switching to second person reader insert for that, e.g. you/your pronouns). I’m a little sad I didn’t get to include any Mando’a linguistics in this fic tbh. Maybe another time.

The cabin’s layout is inspired by the concept art by Christian Alzmann that appeared in the closing credits of s3e8, in which there appears to be a staircase leading down to a lower level. That makes sense to me, as Din would need total security to sleep without his armour on, and a windowless underground room seemed appropriate. I also like the parallel that on the Razor Crest he used to sleep on the lower level in a windowless room too.

I know Carl’s absence is going to be felt when we finally get the movie, so I wanted to write something where Karga is still around. If this had been a longer piece, I would’ve had him actually featuring in it instead of being in the background, but in any case, Karga lives forever in the universes I write.

The reference to Din wearing looser pants is, weirdly, Canon. One of the ways you can tell it’s Brendan Wayne in the suit is because he seems to prefer these weird baggy clown pants. Contrast to Pedro who likes them tight (Din Peña?), as does Lateef Crowder, and as did Barry Lowin in season 2. Since Brendan did the majority of season 3, we saw Din in the loose-fitting style a lot more, so I decided to write in a reason for that beyond actor preference.

Though we have no information on Nevarro’s judiciary system, they’re an independent world who have a marshal and a magistrate, so my guess is they’d adopt the New Republic’s system of having a tribunal. Generally, group decision-making is favoured during this era, in contrast to the single-judge system of the Imperial era, so it seems more likely that Karga would encourage citizens to serve on a tribunal rather than unilaterally passing judgments himself.

Apologies to @the-mandawhor1an for using the name of your longtime established OC – it was coincidental, I promise! I chose it after looking up the most common female names in the world, one of which is Maria, and I settled on the variant Maia because it sounded like a more Star Wars-y version (and for another reason which you’ll see in part 2). I only realised when you reblogged my WIP Wednesday snippet, and it was a bit late to change it by then. I guess it’s a common name in the SWU too! But I’m sorry and I hope you don’t feel like I’m muscling in on your domain. Your Maia is of course the original Maia 💖

I made the GIF myself. Sorry it’s a bit blurry, I’m not very good at making them yet. I tried to use Tumblr’s GIF-making function, but it wouldn’t let me crop out Grogu’s ears, so this was my alternative attempt. It’ll have to do.

Definitions: Comlinks are those little cylinder comms they all use. Glowrod is a catch-all term for anything portable that produces light. All the swears/insults (stinking stang, frotz, borked, kriff, kark) are from the Legends list of phrases and slang this time (it’s longer than Canon). Nevarran reptavians are the ones that Grogu saved Karga from in s1e7 and that the Mandalorians were roasting in s3e7. Ferrocrete is a compound building material (Canon and Legends) made from concrete and iron, used in roads, reinforced bunkers and building foundations. I figured Din would only be happy with something strong and defensible, so Karga had the cabin built with it. Transparisteel is used for windows and ship viewports, as well as helmet visors.

Part 2 is written and will be uploaded next weekend once proofing/editing is complete. What do we think? Is Din gonna be dumb and tell her she can’t babysit Grogu anymore? Deny himself what he wants for Maia’s own good?

Tags requested…

@aheadfullofsteverogers @alltheotps @axolotllover225 @burntheedges @copperhalfcent

@foomoosworld @jude77 @secretelephanttattoo @stagerightlauren @the-mandawhor1an

Those tagged below showed interest in my masterlist and WIP snippets (comments/reblogs), so I thought I’d sneak in some extra tags. Apologies if it’s too forward, if you’d prefer I didn’t tag you in part 2 just let me know…

@604to647 @cheekychaos28 @djarinmuse @gingerlurk

@joelalorian @kyberblade @readingupsidedown @sunflowersunlight7-blog

@thefrogdalorian @whataenginerd @wrathkitty

[absurdthirst]

Vivid {Mando x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 6.4k

Warnings: SEX POLLEN, dubious consent, fuck or die, oral sex (male and female receiving), 69, face sitting, blindfolds, sex in the dark, vaginal sex, rough sex, overstimulation, cream pie, cum eating, masturbation

Comments: A chance encounter in the canyon just beyond Din's little house on Nevarro leads to a sticky situation. A vivid pink flower, a powerful aphrodisiac, and a need to fuck has Mando bringing you home.

Co-written with @pedropascalsx

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Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

The changes around Nevarro are….nice. The little house that was deeded to Din is far enough away from town that he doesn’t feel crowded, yet it’s close enough that he can walk Grogu to the little school that he had enrolled him in. His journeys needed to include more socialization than bounty hunters, killer droids and Mandalorians. He needed to be able to move throughout many different cultures respectfully and what better place to learn than school?

Din’s own education happened in the Fighting Corps. Effective, but he had a mind to raise his adoptive son and apprentice better than his own teacher had. Especially since Grogu had an advantage that he had never wielded, the force. 

“No Grogu,” Din shakes his head and sighs softly as the fifty year old baby tries once again to float his little school pack off the shelf to where he is sitting. Wanting to go to school, even though it’s the weekend. “There is no school today.” 

****

It had been a long day so far, you’d run your usual errands and finished a few tasks around your home. A few of the children in your class had been requesting some more painting time during the week, and never one to dim anyone’s excitement for the arts, you couldn’t say no.

You like to make sure that art class is just as educational as it is fun, so you grabbed your book of plants and flowers and got ready to make your way out of town to collect and pick some plants and flowers for the kids to paint and learn to identify. 

The cool breeze was welcomed as you began your trip, a wicker basket hanging comfortably from the crook of your elbow as you made your way through the town, greeting everyone politely and with a warm smile as you did so. 

You like Nevarro. Especially as of recent, the town was much friendlier and a new sense of community had fallen across the planet. 

After a brief chat with one of your overexcited students and his parents you continued your walk while nibbling on some fresh fruit from a stall you had passed.

The kid is passed out in the little bed that Din had bought for him, the Mandalorian steps out of the house, striding off towards the canyon. He needs to tune his blaster, having replaced the plasma cartridge earlier. The domesticity is unusual, but he likes it, a set schedule and a home to make meals in. It’s oddly appealing, even though he does often wonder how the covert is doing on Mandalore.

After a nice breezy walk, your basket is almost full, you’ve picked multiple flowers and plants for the children to paint and learn about. The canyon is quiet, peaceful, the only sound coming from the soft breeze shaking the trees and the occasional twitter from the out of sight creatures. 

You’re just about to leave and make your way back home, before it catches your eye and steals your attention. A vivid shade of pink and standing alone. The petals are perfectly uniform and it’s the most perfect looking flower that you’ve ever seen.

Din sighs, seeing someone in the canyon ahead of him. There wouldn’t be any practice unless the person was just leaving. Making him huff under his helmet and hope that it wasn’t someone who is looking for trouble.

You kneel down in front of the flower, appreciating its beauty before reaching into your basket and pulling out your holopad. Unable to resist taking a few snaps of the gorgeous flower. 

Zooming in on the photo you notice a figure in the background that you immediately recognise as the father of Grogu - the new and unbelievably adorable little green foundling in your class. 

You place your holopad back in your basket, figuring he’ll want some space. He’s polite, not much of a talker but there’s something about him that’s… intense. The kind of intenseness that makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand upright and makes that magic button downstairs pulse uncontrollably until it gets the attention it deserves. 

You gently snip the bottom of the stalk and gently scoop up the flower in your hands, inhaling its gorgeous and intoxicating scent and letting it flood your senses.

And then it hits you.

Walking closer, he recognizes that it’s Grogu’s teacher. You are a newcomer to Nevarro, at least, you hadn’t been here when it was a bounty hunter’s hive. One of the more gentle settlers, and it doesn’t hurt that besides him, you are Grogu’s favorite person. 

He smiles slightly under his helmet, wondering what you are doing out here in the canyon, although he spies the basket on your arm.

The effect is immediate, within seconds fire is coursing through your veins and pain meets a new type of pleasure in the most delicious way. 

Every nerve ending in your body is set alight, and the pleasure center in your brain is working overtime. Arousal floods your core, your nipples harden and your clit is pulsing with desperate need out of nowhere. 

You start to whimper as your legs threaten to fail beneath you, you’re still kneeling but you feel as though you’re about to collapse in a heap on the floor. The sounds that leave your mouth are nothing short of filthy, and you become more and more aware of your need for something to quench the flames that are burning stronger with every passing second.

Seeing you stumble, Din rushes forward. Hand on his blaster as he tilts his head up, searching for danger. Why else would a healthy woman nearly collapse? “Hey! Hey, get down!” 

“The flower,” you say with a breathy moan, “I think it’s the flower.”

He’s already reached your side, grabbing you and your basket and dragging you behind a craggy outcrop in the canyon, getting you to cover. Unaware of your moaned words,  they were too unintelligible. The pollen from the flower drifts under his helmet, not pressurized against contaminants and floods his nostrils in a heady rush.

“I don’t know what’s happening,” you babble, as you start to pull on the collar of your dress. The material feels much too constricting and far too warm despite the cool breeze.

“Dank ferik.” Din hisses, his own armor suddenly feeling as if it weighs more than the great forge on Mandalore. “It’s- it’s the pollen.” He croaks out, slapping the basket out of your hand, but he knows it’s too late.

“What’s w-wrong with the pollen?” You gasp out, unsure why your clothes feel heavy and your body is trembling uncontrollably. Your need to be touched now is desperate.

“It’s an aphrodisiac.” He grunts, cock already hardening and tenting the fabric of his flight suit. “It- it lasts for hours and-“ His eyes under his helmet widen as he remembers one particular trait of this toxic flower.

“And?” You ask frantically, “And what?”

“Your heart explodes if you don’t- uh, have sex.” His hand slaps against the rock wall of the canyon and he groans, thinking about an activity that he has long denied himself. He’s been too busy with the kid to seek out any companionship, even for a night.

“What?” You say with a pained laugh, “How is that -fuuuuck- how is that even possible?” The lace from your bra rubs painfully against your hardened peaks and you have to physically fight the urge to free yourself of your dress and bra.

He doesn’t fucking know, but the digital display in his helmet is broadcasting that fact as he looks down at the flower. “What the fuck were you doing with it?” He demands, trying to think about something other than pushing you against the rocks and burying himself in your cunt.

“I was just.. I’m picking flowers for the kids to paint,” you say between labored breaths, “Please, do something. It fucking hurts.” You start to beg, unsure what can be done.

He hadn’t anticipated that response. Groaning, he shakes his head. Knowing that a quick fuck in the canyon isn’t going to do it. Plus it’s too exposed out here. “Hold on to me.” He orders, stumbling next to you and wrapping his arm around your back before he kicks on his Rising Phoenix.

You squeal with shock as you’re shot upwards into the deep blue sky, your arms wrapping so tightly around The Mandalorian that it hurts.

Din’s groans are covered by the sounds of the jetpack and the wind. His cock is throbbing and leaking into the flight suit and he knows you have to be feeling worse. Your exposure was vastly greater than his own.

He senses the moment that the pain becomes too much for you to bear, his arms wrapping even tighter around you as you start to lose your grip. Pain shoots throughout your body as you whimper in his arms.

“We-it’s- it’s close.” He groans, his own body used to pain although he’s never experienced an arousal that might override all his senses like this before. All he can think about is stripping you down, burying himself in your body over and over until relief is finally achieved.

“I can’t hold on much longer,” you gasp, as the aching between your thighs grows stronger and more uncomfortable.

The outline of his small cabin appears and it can’t be a second sooner. His entire body is tense and his jetpack is nearly sputtering as it sets down on the ground in front of the remote dwelling. His star-fighter is parked off to the side and he is grateful that the baby is still asleep in his own little room.

His grip on you stays firm as you reach the ground, and he gently pulls you into his cabin. Spinning you around he presses you up against the door and gently palms your tit with his gloved hands.

“Tell me-“ Din groans and bites his lip under his helmet. “Dank ferik, tell me I can fuck you, Mesh’la.” He begs.

“You can fuck me,” you say with a moan as you press yourself up against him, desperate to feel him inside of you.

His head turns towards the door where Grogu is sleeping, relieved to find it still closed and he steps back to drag you away from the wall. “My room.” He demands, knowing the kid didn’t need to wake up and see anything.

“Yes, sir,” you say as you follow him on shaky legs into the room. Your clothes feel heavy against your skin, but you wait for his command to remove them. Standby patiently but writhing in discomfort as he walks towards you. “I need to take my dress off,” you say, as the material irritates your skin.

“Take it off.” He knows he will rip your dress if it touches it and he needs to get out of his armor. It’s chafing his skin and he’s overheating.

You immediately unzip the dress and let it fall to the floor, before working on your bra and panties. “Need you so badly,” you whine and you climb down onto the bed, and spread your legs. Dipping your fingers into your entrance and spreading some of your arousing through your folds and circling your clit.

“Dank ferik.” The armor clanks to the floor carelessly. Unable to treat it as reverently as he normally does. Fingers fumbling as his cock throbs, visor trained on your cunt.

“Hurry,” you beg, as you circle your clit faster, you’re soaked enough for him to slide right in with little resistance. “Am I allowed to touch you?” You ask as you continue working your clit, you know a little about Mandalorian creed but you’ve never fucked one before and want to make sure you’re respectful and you don’t cross any boundaries.

“I-I’m going to turn out the lights.” He groans, wanting to see you, touch you. And have you touching him. “And I need to blindfold you.”

“Whatever you need,” you say, as you turn your head so he can blindfold you. “I won’t touch you unless you explicitly tell me where it’s okay, and I promise the blindfold will stay on until you take it off.”

“You can touch me.” He is panting as he ties the blindfold and quickly strips out of the flightsuit and his boots. Even though he is burning, he hesitates when reaching for his helmet.

You reach out and let your fingers run across his chest, “Fuck,” you say, as your pussy clenches around nothing, “Want you to fuck me so badly, but I really wanna suck your cock first, Mando. I want to rub my little pussy while you fuck my throat.”

“No.” He chokes out, knowing that your body is screaming for release worse than his own is. It makes the decision easy and the click of the locks is accompanied by a slight hiss as he lifts the helmet off his head and it clatters to the ground.

“Oh,” you say, clearly disappointed but still rubbing your clit as fast as you can and chasing your release. “How do you want me?”

Din knocks your hand away and climbs up on the bed to pull you up and spin you around. A lifetime of training makes picking you up easy and he flips you onto your stomach on his chest. “Suck my cock and I’ll lick you.” He rasps out, his voice unmodulated and clear. “Never done it, but I want to. You need it.”

The sound of his voice is even sexier when unmodulated. Raspy and rough. Each word going straight to your pussy. “Yes, sir,” you say as you feel around and finally get his cock in your hand. It’s thick, veiny and dripping in pre-cum, the room is dark enough and the blindfold is opaque enough that you can’t see it but it feels glorious in your hands. You give him a teasing lick, lapping up all the pre-cum before taking the tip of him in your mouth.

Din groans, his gloveless hands reaching for your hips and his entire body shudders when he realizes that it’s full skin to skin contact. Dragging you back and immediately plunging his tongue inside your quivering and leaking cunt.

“Oh, fuck,” you choke out as you pull off his cock, loving the dexterous heat of his tongue. You take him back into your mouth and hollow your cheeks, your moans vibrating against his cock as he eats your pussy. For someone who said he’d never done this before he’s unbelievably skilled, eating you with such vigor that after a few minutes you can feel your orgasm rapidly approaching.

There have been a lot of holo vids around oral sex in his past, learning and aching to try the things that he saw. Although he’s not got a forked tongue like some species, nor one as long, he still grunts in pleasure as you moan loudly around his cock. Rocking your hips back to taste you more, getting deeper into your cunt.

“Gonna cum,” you croak out around him, before swirling your tongue around the tip of him and pulling away before cumming with a loud whimper of the only name you know for him, “Fuck, Mando!’

Din nearly whimpers at the loss of your mouth but the sweetness of your cum makes up for it. Soaking his face like he’s never experienced before. His cock throbs and he pulls away. “Close.” He chokes out, knowing he’s going to cum from this alone.

You take him back into your mouth and double down on your efforts, sucking him harder and licking your tongue around him. You take him as deep as you can, working the bottom of his shaft with your hands, saliva dripping everywhere as you work him towards his high. Needing to feel his cock twitch and start to flood your mouth with his cum.

It doesn't take him but a few more seconds when your mouth wraps back around him for Din to start to cum. Groaning out your name harshly, it's the only warning you get when he shoots a hot rope of cum down your throat, immediately followed by another.

You swallow around him, humming at the rich yet salty taste of him. Not letting a single drop go to waste, eagerly awaiting each burst as your mouth milks him dry. He’s delicious, salty and musky and you want more. You keep sucking until he orders you to stop and you slowly pull off of him with a groan.

Even though he's cum, his body still aches, his cock is still hard and he knows you aren't satisfied either. "My tongue or my cock in your cunt this time?" He pants out, needing to know where to bury his cock again.

“Your cock, please,” you beg as you lift off of him, “Do you want me to ride you, Sir?”

"For now." He knows you might need him desperately and he wants to see how much you are willing to grind on him for his cock.

His harsh tone makes your chest clench, but you push away that feeling and position yourself over him, slowly sinking down on this thick cock and moaning loudly as he stretches you open. His cock fills you entirely, your walls flutter and hug his cock as you get used to the delicious stinging from how stretched out you are from him. You start rocking your hips slowly, before increasing your pace, grinding down on him over and over. Desperate moans slipping through your plush lips as a wave of euphoria floods through you.

The darkness is just enough that he can see you move. A shadow and he wishes that he could turn the lights back on but he can't risk your blindfold coming loose. It's barely a loophole and technicality of the creed, but you can't see him. Not unless you were going to bind yourself to him.

“You feel so good,” you choke out, as you rock your hips a little faster. “So big. So thick.” You murmur again and again as your pace quickens, chasing a high and feeling a desperate need to have him cum hard and paint your walls with his delicious cum.

"Fuck." Din chokes out, puffing up at the praise. It's better than the moans with his cock in your mouth and he palms your tits, plucking at them and pinching your nipples while you bounce on his length.

“Tell me what you need,” you moan, “Fast or slow? Need you to feel good, baby, want to feel this cock fill me up.”

Din curses again. "Fuck, fast." He hisses, squeezing your tits harshly. "Fucking ride me hard."

You do as he commands, increasing your pace and bouncing up and down on him as fast as you can, moaning in pleasure as he hits that spot inside of you. Your hands cover his as he squeezes your tits, holding on tightly as he starts to fuck up into you, matching your pace with his own.

The loud sounds of sex fill his room. His hips snapping up as you bounce down on his cock. Both of you moaning and cursing greedily as the fire of the pollen rages in your systems. He knows you’re craven for his cum, the only thing that can soothe the effects of the flower.

You reach down and start to circle your clit, as you keep the same pace, wanting to clamp down around him and hear those delicious groans from him. “You’re incredible,” you pant as you near your high, circling your clit with perfect precision as he fucks up against nirvana inside of you. “Gonna cum,” you warn, before pleasure washes over you and squeeze his cock like a vice. Yelling his name as you cum, hard.

Letting go of your tits, he grabs your hips again and starts the hammer up into you. His hold on your body is the only thing keeping you from being thrown up into the air. Harsh punches of his cock that hit deep and wrench a cry out of you every time he hits your cervix, he can’t even care if it hurts you because you gush another wave of heat around him.

“Fuck,” you choke out, as he pushes the air from your lungs with every thrust. You’ve never been fucked like this before, but it’s addicting, you crave more and more from him with each harsh thrust of his hips. “Fill me up,” you beg, each word more strained as his pace quickly overwhelms you.

His arms wrap around you and he’s thrusting up into you like you are his personal fuck toy. “Fuck, fuck, gonna, fuck- fill you up.” He promises, grunting out a word every time he buries his cock into your spasming cunt. One harsh thrust later and a harsh bark of your name, he delivers on that promise. Cumming just as hard and as much as when he came down your throat only minutes before.

Falling forward onto him your face nuzzles into the crook of his neck, he’s still hard and twitching inside of you but a wave of exhaustion starts to make an appearance. You pant into his warm skin, arms tightly wrapped around him and you can’t ignore how tense he is. You’re unsure if you’ve crossed a line, but you need to catch your breath again before you’re able to move off of him and ask how he wants you next.

Din is tense from how close you are to his face. It’s been so long but you don’t reach up to touch it. Your arms around his shoulders and your face tucked into his neck. He rolls you onto your back and starts to rock into you again. Knowing that the night isn’t over by a long shot.

You moan as he rocks into you, his stamina clearly better than your own as you attempt to gather up some strength. But he seems content to pick up the slack as your pussy flutters around him and your walls hug him tight. “Are you allowed to kiss me?” You ask, barely above a whisper as his hips snap forward.

Din groans and he nods even though you can’t see him. “Can I?” He breathes above your lips. He’s never kissed before and right now as he fucking you both through a dangerous exposure to sex pollen seem to be a good time to experience it.

“Yes, please.” You plead softly, wanting to taste his lips despite not knowing what they look like. Not caring at all that you have no idea what he looks like.

Permission granted, he crushes his lips to your in a messy kiss. Much less coordinated than when he licked into you, he had avoided kissing holo vids because he had felt jealous.

You giggle a little at the way he smashes his lips against yours, before lightly touching his chin and taking the lead. Licking his bottom lip gently until he parts his lips enough for you to slip your tongue inside and press it against his own. It doesn’t take long until he’s mastering the art and taking control, his lips now refusing to part from yours as he rocks his hips into you. Kissing you just as hard as he fucks you, changing up the pace every now and then and swallowing your moans of delight.

Groaning into your mouth is like ambrosia. You are the best thing he’s ever tasted and he can’t get enough. His cock steadily fills you with strokes and his tongue mimics the motion into your mouth as he pants his pleasure loudly.

With a few more strokes of his cock, he has you clamping down around him and crying out the name you know him by in pleasure. The stuttering of his hips as your pussy acts like a vice around him makes him grunt your name before pulling you in for another breathtaking kiss. The effects of the pollen start to lessen but the effects of him growing stronger. Everything about him is consuming, his scent, the power he commands and with every snap of his hips and grunt of your name; you want more and more.

Din can barely rock his hips but the clenching and squeezing of your cunt pushes him over the edge. This time he is moaning your name into your mouth while pushing more cum into your pussy. Sliding down your cheeks and soaking his bed underneath you in growing puddle.

“Fuck, Mando,” you say against his lips, with a bright smile. “Picking that flower was the best decision I've made in months.” You love the way he twitches inside of you, your walls still hugging him tightly as he groans against your mouth. You gently run your hand up and down his back as he works on catching his breath.

“Din.” There are plenty of people who know his name now and he doesn’t see why you shouldn’t. Given that he had just fucked the life out of you and still had a few more rounds in him before the pollen is completely gone. “My name. It’s Din.”

“Din,” you repeat softly, “I like that. Din.” You press a light kiss to his lips before repeating his name a few more times. “Do you think I can jerk you off next? My pussy isn’t used to being fucked this good. Give her a little break before you fill her up again?”

“Do you want my mouth again?” He asks, knowing you might still need something. “I can just suck on your clit.”

“Are you sure?” You ask, “I know you said that was the first time you did it, and I don’t want you to feel like you have to do it again if you don’t want.”

“I liked it.” Din twitches inside you as he admits that and kisses you again. “Unless you didn’t like it?”

“I loved it,” you giggle, “Can’t believe that was the first time you’ve done it. Best oral I’ve ever had.” 

“Good.” He grunts happily. “Then I’ll do it again.” He pulls out of you and rolls onto his back.

“You want me to sit on your face and I can jerk you off as you eat my pussy, baby?”

“Fuck yes.” Din groans. “Want to taste your cunt filled with my cum.”

“Fuck,” you moan at his filth, “Yes, sir.” He helps you position over his face, and you hover a few inches above his mouth before reaching down and gripping his cock. Giving it a few languid strokes before finding a pace that has him groaning. “I bet you’ve got a gorgeous cock, Din, I can feel how good it is. But fuck. It’s so thick and long and those veins… I.. fuck. It’s so perfect.” You tell him before he pulls you down and starts to eat your pussy like a man starved. You work his cock like it’s the most important job in the work, each flick of your wrist designed to make him groan and grunt with pure pleasure. “Do you like that? Do you like me stroking your cock while it’s still dripping with my cum, Din?”

He huffs, nodding his head as he continues to lick and taste both of you combined. He’d love it if you sucked his cock again but your hand is good too. Tilting your hips up, he finds your clit and sucks it into his mouth.

“Fuck, Din,” you yell out as he sucks on your clit, “Maker- I could get used to this.” You squeeze his cock a little harder, changing the pace from fast to slow. Wiping your thumb across the tip and gathering up the pre-cum to taste on your fingers. He groans as you let him, bringing your fingers up to mouth and licking them clean before gripping his cock again. “Going to suck your cock again after this, you taste so good, baby.”

Din groans and sucks on your clit harder, pushing his tongue against it and releasing it to lick it and suck it back into his mouth to start the entire process over again. He could get used to this too. Eating your pussy every night and having you on his cock.

“Diiiiiiinnnnnn,” you moan, over and over as he works magic on your clit. You stroke his cock over and over as his hips stutter, “Gonna c-cum.”

He pulls away just to gasp out, “me too.” Before he’s reattaching his lips to your clit like a hungry sucker fish.

“Din, Din, Din,” you chant his name over and over like a sacred prayer, pumping his cock until he’s spurting out thick ropes of cum, cum that you’ve desperate to scoop up and lick from your fingers. You feel your pussy clench down around nothing as your orgasm pulses through you, soaking his face with your arousal as he continues his delicious assault on your bundle of nerves.

You stopped stroking his cock, too focused on your own pleasure but you squeeze him. Making him pulse as his balls draw up against his body again.

“Din,” you pant one last time, as he grunts beneath you. You feel his cock twitching in your hands, clearly desperate for more release, and you resume your strokes. Milking him free of his pleasure and loving the way it pants your skin. Your fingers, wrists and arms are covered in his cum. All of it begging to be licked clean.

Letting go of your clit, Din groans your name as you stroke his cock and milk it of every drop of his release.

The second he stops cumming, you gently let it go and start cleaning it from your skin. Moaning at the taste and humming in content as you swallow it all down. “You taste delicious, Din.”

His cock is still hard but he’s not desperate to be inside you. The fire in his veins nearly burned away and it will only take once more before it’s all done. “You taste good, Mesh’la.” He praises roughly. “Could taste you everyday and be a happy man.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” you say with a giggle. “It’s wearing off, I think, it doesn’t burn as badly but I think I can go again. You wanna fuck my mouth or my pussy this time, baby?”

“Is your pussy too sore?” He asks, knowing he’s been rough with it.

“I can take you again, I’m definitely going to be feeling you for a while, but I'm not complaining.”

“Why don’t you ride me then?” He asks, stroking your hip. “You can kiss me this time.”

“Perfect,” you say, wasting no time and getting into position and sinking down on him again. You press your lips against his and start to rock your hips, the ache between your legs getting drowned out with pleasure as he matches your pace.

"Shit, shit, fuck,  you are so tight?" Din groans in surprise. "How are you still so tight? We've been fucking for hours." He doesn't stop touching you, anywhere and everywhere he can while you ride him, stroking your back, your hips, sweeping his hands up to your breasts. Greedy for that skin to skin contact now that he's not quite as focused on cumming. "Kiss me, mesh'la." He begs.

You immediately press your lips to his, and moan into his mouth. His hands feel perfect on you, they explore your body with ease as you rock up and down, chasing relief once more around his cock.

This time is less frantic. It’s slower and almost more intimate. It’s almost like you are making love.

“Need you to cum,” you murmur against his lips, exhaustion taking its toll on your fucked out body, as you rock your hips slowly. His thumb pressed up against your clit as you chase some friction

“I will.” He promises. “After you, Mesh’la.”

You move your hips just a little faster, still keeping the pace slow and intimate. His thumb circles your clit perfectly as you grind down on him, cunning with a soft moan of his name, clamping down around him and relishing the groans of pleasure he fills your ear with. “Cum for me, Din,” you plead, as you can come back down.

Now that he feels your entire body melt, he knows the pollen has worked completely out of your system. “Good girl.” He grunts, rocking his hips as he wraps his arms around you. “I’m gonna fill you up again.”

“Please,” you beg, needing to feel his release. “Please, Din.”

He doesn't rush, knowing that you have to be exhausted at this point. Only his ability to go beyond his limits allows him to keep rocking his hips up. As soon as he cums, he knows he will pass out to sleep for a good while. You are almost asleep as he fucks you.

You sink your face into the crook of his neck, unsure how you’re going to find the strength to pull yourself out of bed and make your way home. Rocking your hips more and more, his release clearly moments away, you ride him harder, determined to give him every bit of his pleasure.

"Fuck." He groans and thrusts up one more time to bury himself deep. Throbbing again and feeling your walls grip him tight when he starts to spill inside of you again. Groaning your name quietly as he fills you. Feeling the heat and need of the pollen falling away with the last pulse of his orgasm. 

“Din,” you murmured into his skin, “Tha-thank you.” Exhaustion rumbles in your joints, everything aches, but everything feels worth it when you’re wrapped up in his arms.

"Sleep, mesh'la." He hums, his hand sliding up and down your back gently. He's still inside you and doesn't want to pull out right now. He wants to sleep inside you. "I know you are exhausted."

You hum happily into the crook of his neck, letting him move you slightly and wrapping his arms around you. “Goodnight, Din.” 

Sleep comes easier than it has in months, safely pulling you into slumber as he gently rubs your back and holds you tight to him.

Sometime during the night, Din wakes up. opening his eyes and letting his vision adapt to the darkness. He's softened and is barely inside you but it was probably the most relaxed and the best sleep that he's ever had. Possibly in his entire life. Reaching up, Din gently unties the blindfold that is still firmly over your eyes. He's decided that he wants you to see him. Or have the choice if you wanted him to turn on the lights. Now he just holds you, waiting for you to wake up.

Waking up, you hum contentedly in his arms, nuzzling your nose into his warm skin. The fact he’d removed your blindfold not fully registered yet as you wish him a ‘good morning.’ It’s only as you pull back and the light hits your eyelids that you realize the blindfold is off. “Din,” you say quietly, “Is it ok to open my eyes?”

"Opening your eyes comes with consequences, mesh'la." He admits quietly. "I am not allowed to let anyone see my face. Or I become darmanda." He explains. "I would no longer be Mandalorian."

“What do you want me to do?” You ask, before pressing your lips against his, “Tell me.”

"There is a way that you can see me and I am still Mandalorian." He tells you, slightly nervous about what you would think. It's crazy, but he couldn't stop thinking about it when he woke up. 

“Tell me,” you repeat, “If you want to.”

"If you are my riduur....you can see my face without any consequences."

“Riduur?” You repeat slowly, “What is that?”

“Spouse.” He whispers the Basic word and waits for your reaction.

“Oh,” you say quietly, before bringing your hands up to his chin and gripping it gently. “Riduur,” you repeat, loving the way it sounds, “You could see me as yours one day?”

“You would be mine then.” He tells you. “If you want.”

“I want to be yours,” you say against his lips.

“Then open your eyes, Mesh’la.” He murmurs softly. “You can look at me before we say our vows.”

You kiss him first, pressing your lips firmly against his before pulling back and slowly opening your eyes. Staring deeply into his brown eyes and feeling a smile spread across your face as you take in his features. “Gorgeous,” you say quietly, before letting your fingertips gently run across his face.

His eyes softly and his lips part when your fingers drag across them. He’s been touched by Grogu but this is different. “Pleasant enough? Or should I put my helmet back on?” He jokes self-consciously.

“You’re perfect,” you say honestly, “I can’t believe you’d want me. You’re gorgeous.”

“You are mesh’la, it is Mando’a for beautiful.” He hums, smiling up at you.

“Mesh’la,” you repeat, “You are mesh’la, Din.”

Biting his lip, he says, “repeat after me. Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde.”

“Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde,” you say as clearly as you can, eyes still focused on his as you do so.

Din grins. “It is our vows.” He explains. “It means - We are one when together, we are one when parted, we share all, we will raise warriors."

“We are one.” Taking his hand you bring it to your lips and place a small kiss on it. “Yesterday took an unexpected turn… But I’m so glad I picked that flower.”

He snorts and shakes his head. “Good thing I wasn’t secretly a Gungan under my helmet.” He teases.

You giggle back at him before pulling him in for another kiss, “I don’t think I’m going to be able to walk normally for the next few days, you realize that right?”

“That’s to be expected.” Din flashes you a dirty grin. “Make sure you tell them that when we go to Mandalore.”

“So every time you fuck me, I’m going to be feeling it for days?” You ask with a raised eyebrow.

“Not every time, but when you’re fucking to stay alive, I’ll make sure you feel it.” He chuckles, wrapping his arms around you and grinning up at you. “You can pick those flowers anytime you want….riduur.”

“I might just have to do that,” you giggle, “Thank you for saving my life, Din.”

“I think I’ve gotten a pretty good reward.” Din hums. He had settled here for Grogu and it was a nice little place, maybe a little lonely since he’s not so busy, but now he has a feeling he will never be lonely again. Not with you by his side.

[theidiotwhowritesthings]

That's Not My Name

din djarin x reader

warnings: mild spoiler for season 3 finale, I suppose.

word count: 623

summary: “What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell just as sweet.” -William Shakespeare

.

‘Din Grogu.’

You let the title roll around your head as you walked beside the Mandalorian and his now adopted son. With everything settled here on Mandalore, it was time for the three of you to leave. You weren’t quite sure where the next stop would be. You were too busy having a mental crisis.

‘Din Grogu.’ 

You glanced over at them to see Grogu babbling happily, a million miles per hour, and the Mandalorian you had come to know and love walked tall with a sense of pride radiating from the silver beskar decorating his body. 

“Din?” You called out. He turned his head with a hum of acknowledgement. “Din, is ‘Din’ your family name?”

“Yes, why?” Your feet came to a screeching halt⏤ so sudden that it took Din a step or two before he realized you hadn’t continued on beside him. He came to a pause and turned around in confusion. Grogu’s babbles had stopped and your companion tilted his head at you in slight concern. “Everything okay?”

“Din is your family name.” You echoed. More a statement than a question. Still, Din nodded at you once more. “Djarin is your first name??” Again, another confused bob of his head. “Are you kidding me?”

“What’s the problem?” He shrugged.

“This entire time, I’ve been calling you by your family name instead of your first name,” Your eyes widened, “And you didn’t think to stop me??”

Din stepped closer, his voice slightly amused, “I am from Aq Vetina. The family name goes before⏤”

“Yeah, no, I get the concept of family names going first.” You shook your head. “But you didn’t tell me that! Maker, this entire time I thought⏤”

Din, or Djarin apparently, chuckled. “It isn’t a big deal. Most people who know my name just call me ‘Din’.”

“Have you told any of those people you’re from a world that uses their family name first?” You asked. Din paused then shook his head with a shrug. Your hand shot up to hold the side of your head in alarm. This entire time. You’d been partners with him for ages now. Maker, you met him a few months before Grogu came along and this entire kriffing time you hadn’t even been aware of his actual name. “I’m an idiot.”

“No, you’re⏤”

“I should’ve asked you. Maker, I should have⏤”

“Cyar’ika,” Din reached out and set a hand on your shoulder in comfort, “It’s fine. I’m not bothered by it. There is no need to stress.”

“Arguably, there’s a little reason.” You pouted. “Do you… I can call you Djarin from now on, if you prefer?”

The Mandalorian, the person you trusted with your life, chuckled once more and tilted to lean his forehead against yours. The cool metal of the keldabe kiss mildly reassuring to you. He spoke once more with only amusement and admiration in his voice, “Din or Djarin, or Din Djarin, I don’t care what you call me, cyar’ika. As long as I get to hear it in your voice.”

You breathed out a sigh of relief and he pulled back and began to walk again. It took you a few seconds before you caught up with him. It was hard to mentally refer to him as just Din considering how long you had done so, but in all reality you were just happy he was still around for you to mess up his name. Watching Moff Gideon drag him away still haunted your dreams. You’d call him literally anything as long as it meant having him by your side for the foreseeable future.

“Alright, Din Djarin, any other deep, dark secrets you’re keeping from me?”

“No, but I’ll let you know if I think of one.”

[misspearly1]

Ner Cyar'ika Baar'ur

Secret Santa Event by @pedrostories

My giftee: @taro-666

Pairing: Din D'jarin x F!Medic!Reader (use of Y/N).

Summary: Working for the Mandalorian as his personal medic, it has become apart of the daily routine to battle against people who threaten his safety, or yours. You're apart of the chaos that comes with the bounty hunting life, but how does one particular quarry change everything between you and Din D'jarin?

WC: 8k

Warnings: 18+ Content. Minors DNI. Fic is set in season one, between episode one to three. Slight changes in the storyline from the TV show. Cursing. Use of Mando'a (with translations). Friends to Lovers. Mutual Pining. Violence and Injury. Angst with a happy ending. Smut. Mentions of wet dreams. Unprotected PIV. Praise kink. Fluff.

AN: Taro! Omg, I've been so excited to share this story with you and to finally come off anon. Hey friend! 👋 I hope you enjoy the read, my love ❤️.

@supernaturalgirl20 Thank you so much for the beta, beautiful! You're a star 🥰.

There aren’t a lot of things that surprise you these days as a trained medic; you’ve been through a lot and have seen nearly twice as much. Having said that, it’s almost as if you’ve grown used to the mayhem that comes with treating the sick and the wounded because of your line of work.

For instance, it doesn’t surprise you anymore when your boss requires your medical assistance considering he is actually in need of your assistance quite often, and it’s the very reason he hired you in the first place. 

The Mandalorian is your boss, or Mando as he is known to some, and his involvement in the bounty hunting business was never in your interest at first - your a healer, not a fighter - but where there is a fight, there is almost always a need for someone to be patched up afterwards. 

There’s never a dull moment working with the Mandalorian, his daily life is mayhem, more so in the last several weeks since his workload has been busier than usual and seeing that you’ve already adapted to the chaos around treating the sick and wounded, especially on war-torn planets, you quickly adopted his chaotic lifestyle as well.

There wasn’t much difference truthfully, only that you were treating one patient instead of several a day, and rather than coming to you for medical treatment, Mando offered you to move into his ship as an alternative. You didn’t oppose the idea and accepted his offer, not only because the pay is better, but the company is welcome too.

As well as this, you didn’t mind moving into Mando’s ship because he used to visit you regularly for medical attention back on Nevarro. That's where The Bounty Hunter’s Guild is situated, it’s their home base, and although you only stayed in the city for seven months, you didn’t particularly enjoy your time on the volcanic planet. It’s a world of black sand, rocky terrain, and rivers flowing with lava instead of water.  

While it was beautiful to gaze upon at night, it was also deadly as the Reptavion's used the darkness to their advantage, hunting anything it could carry before taking flight. Nevarro provided work opportunities and credits, but it wasn’t a place to call home.

However, the volcanic planet is where you met Mando for the very first time. During the months you were staying in the city, you were working in a small medical clinic, and there were plenty more suitable facilities for the man to visit, but he chose your place of work instead.

At first, you assumed it was for discretion as the clinic's unspoken rule was ‘ask no question, hear no lies’, but sometimes he would come to see you with minor injuries that could be treated by his own hands, thus leading you to believe that he was interested in more than just your help. Besides, you enjoyed the man's company when he would come to visit you. He wasn’t much of a talker back then, but as time passed, he gradually opened up.

Moving into the man's ship brought you closer to each other. You became his partner more than his employee, and you love your job because it simply doesn’t feel like a job. It feels like you're working with a trusted friend, sharing the riches and helping each other out.

Whether or not he was actually in need of your service back on Nevarro doesn’t matter. What matters is that he saw an opportunity with your skills and presented a deal to make your working life better - which it has.

Ever since you moved in with him, your life has become better in so many ways; you now have a place to call home, and you have a friend you can rely on without the niggling doubt of betrayal in the back of your mind. 

Since you were always on the move before, you adopted a cautious nature with everyone regarding every little detail in your life. You never did fully trust people, but you do with Mando. Things are different with him, and one of the many reasons why it's different with him is because you know the man underneath the beskar. 

Many people have heard of Mando. They’ve heard the stories about his reputation in the Bounty Hunters Guild, about how he is the best in the parsec, but his past and identity remain a mystery. Even to you, to some extent, but you’ve heard the stories too, heard ‘warrior’ in the whispers and it’s true. He is a fine warrior, one that fights with grace and loyalty to the cause. His cause; his culture and his religion - the way of Mandalore. 

While many call him Mando, or the Mandalorian in the Guild, you know him as Din D’jarin. You have not yet had the pleasure to see his identity, but hopefully one day you will have that pleasure and the honour. These are just some of the many reasons why you love your job, but to put it simply; it’s because of Din. 

Since there aren’t a lot of things that surprise you anymore in your line of work and partnership with the man, that doesn’t mean there’s nothing that surprises you. Take these last few days for example, it started off with the same regular chaos, but eventually became something you’re not familiar with. 

The loading bay of the Razor Crest is almost packed full of quarries, frozen solid in the carbonite blocks with one more space remaining for the Mythrol. You helped Din as far as your abilities could, and since the tracking fob for the Mythrol led him to a public house on the icy planet, Pagadon, you stayed back on the ship and waited for his return. 

And of course, it came as no shock when Din returned with the Mythrol, thankfully without any injuries, but the blue-skinned man tried to pull a fast one. However, it wasn’t fast enough as the Mandalorian was two steps ahead of the trickery. He always is.

Still, just like the normalities in the bounty hunting life, you made your way back to Nevarro and met with Greef Karga in the cantina to offload the carbonite blocks, receive your payments and gather more tracking fobs leading to more quarries.

The surprise began when the words ‘off the books’ were uttered by Greef himself and from the moment Din took his next job, you had mixed feelings. There was no chain code on the quarry, all you had was their age. Then, Din wouldn’t allow you to accompany him when meeting the client and the very fact he was protective of you in that sense, made you worry about their business. 

In the Guild, it’s common knowledge that you don’t ask questions about the criminals you hunt. You just get the job done and let the proper authorities serve justice, but something was gnawing at your gut. As the day went on and the chaos continued, the doubts slowly began to fade as you settled back into normality. 

The tracking fob led you to a desert planet, Arvala-7, where you met with a kind man named Kuiil working on a moisture farm. It was especially fun watching Din trying to mount the Blurrg and learn to ride them, but you, too, had to learn in order to join his travels to the Nikto Hideout - where the quarry was. 

By the afternoon, you and Din had mastered the art of riding the creatures and you set off to capture the quarry. Just like any other day in the bounty hunting life, there was nothing surprising or out of the ordinary. You worked together like you always do and after leaving you at a safe distance away from the hideout, Din moved forward on his own. 

As battle ensued, you watched from afar and used comms to help the man out. He fought magnificently. More often than not, his skills leave you awestruck. Mesmerized. You prepared yourself and stocked up on the medical supplies before leaving the moisture farm earlier, but remained hopeful that there wasn’t a need for them. 

When the fight was over, the enemy threats were eliminated and Din was unharmed, you made your way to him and entered the hideout together to find the quarry, but when you first laid your eyes on the target, that unsettled feeling returned to your gut. It was an infant baby, a little green baby with big ears and the cutest eyes you’ve ever seen. 

Although you remembered that you don’t ask questions in the Guild about the quarries, you couldn’t help wondering, and worrying, about what the client wants with the child. It couldn’t be anything good if Din didn’t want you present in the meeting with them on Nevarro.

You had many doubts and suspicions, so many that you couldn’t find a single rational explanation as to why a baby had a bounty on its head. Naturally, you asked Din all of the questions you had, but he didn’t have any answers.

Now, as you both make your way back to the Razor Crest with the baby through the mountainous canyons of Arvala-7, you still can’t shake off the nerves around this whole ordeal. Din is many things; a fine warrior in battle, a man of few words, emotionally shielded and well guarded, cold and merciless to those who threaten his safety, or yours, but careless? No, never.

The man isn’t careless. He cares greatly, and deeply, and he, too, knows that something is off about this job. You’ve known Din D’jarin for the last two years and you can sense when the man is nervous. He’s quiet, too quiet, and you don’t like when his mind is on overdrive because if he is worried about this job, then you should be fearful. 

“Alright. What is it?” You finally break the silence to ask, eager to make sense of his sudden edgy state of mind. Halting your walk and turning to face him, you perch both hands to your hips and tilt your head to the side in question, adding emphasis to your desire for answers. 

The baby situated in his floating pod remains close by, right between you and Din as a matter of fact, and he looks up at you both with curiosity. You fight the urge to look at him, to avoid his influence on you as a woman with maternal instincts. The little guy's presence has undoubtedly caused a heavy bout of uncertainty over your heads, a little rift between you and Mando. Not something of the bad kind, but something unfamiliar and foreign. He’s a child, just an innocent baby, so it’s a confusing and an extremely foreign feeling for you both to be transporting him like he’s just another quarry when he isn’t like any other quarry you’ve ever transported before. 

“Din, talk to me,” You shake your head now, frustration evident in your tone, “What is it? What’s got you nervous?” You ask again, although the answer is obvious. It’s because of the baby and all the questions he has for the client, but you want to hear him say it. 

To hear Din himself say that something isn’t right will validate your reasons to be worried, but you were met with silence yet again. The man wasn’t even paying attention to you, he was too focused on the little lizards scurrying across the sand. “Mando.” Stepping forward and calling him the name that everyone else uses, that usually gets his attention, you open your mouth to speak but the words didn’t even make it past your lips as he shoved you back. 

You fell down and watched as he turned swiftly, gun in hand at the ready to shoot, but a blade whacked it out of his grasp, a blade wielded by a Trandoshan. You and Din both lock onto the tracking fob on his hip, the flashing red dot and audible beep familiar, before he then shoves the floating pod away, keeping the baby out of harm's reach. There’s more than one tracking fob, therefore there’s more bounty hunters looking for the child. Bounty Hunters who are careless and don’t ask questions. 

Neither one of you can allow the baby to leave your sight or allow him to fall into the wrong hands, thus causing your legs to act before your mind can think. You quickly rise from the floor and move in to help Din wherever you can. He smites the Trandoshan and they tumble to the floor. Then, he takes the blade from him, before turning around to throw it toward you.

“Stay with the baby.” He orders firmly, and you listen to his instructions. Trusting his fighting skills better than your own, you take a few steps back and give him the space he needs to wield his weapons without hurting you. 

However, another Trandoshan jumps out of cover. “Behind you!” You yell, giving Din a heads up just in time to evade the direction of a blade coming down in his path. The fight continues, and you take a few more steps back to look up, checking the surroundings to ensure there aren’t any more hunters hiding in the shadows. But there was. “Another one, on your left.” You call out. Again just in time as another Trandoshan jumps down from a ledge. 

With one enemy on the floor, but recovering quickly, the odds weren’t in Din’s favour. It wasn’t a fair fight, even though you’re pretty sure he can handle himself, you worry for his safety nonetheless. And although you're not a fighter, you’ll be damned if you don’t try to help even out the odds against him. 

After checking that the baby was safe in his pod, you move toward the closest Trandoshan and raise your weapon. His back was turned, giving you the upper hand to land a blow without deadly consequence. Using the blunt side of the blade, you struck the back of his legs, causing him to stumble forward just at the right time for Din to throw his arms out and punch him in the face, knocking him unconscious as he fell to the floor. 

Now that the odds were evened out, you watched Din’s movements with laser-like focus and only intervened when you saw the right moment. You were sure he could handle himself, and you were right, but the element of surprise was the only advantage the Trandoshans had over him in the beginning. He fought the remaining two easily, eventually leaving all three unconscious and regretful for ever trying to take on a skilled Mandalorian. 

He turns to you, nodding appreciatively. “Good moves there, mesh’la - thank you.” 

“Don’t mention it,” You shake your head, “You did all the heavy lifting. I was just lending a hand.” You mumble with a sheepish grin on your lips. 

“But I know how you don’t like to fight,” He argues gently with a slight chuckle in his modulated voice. “You fought with me. Accept my gratitude, sweet girl.” 

“Ok, ok - you’re welcome, Din.” Your smile deepens with flattery as he stands before you with what you can only describe as pride. It was the way he looked at you; his helmet slightly tilted to the side, displaying the reflection of your own face, and his hands resting on his hips with a puffed out chest. 

Since you can’t see the man's facial expression, all you’re left with his body language and tone of voice to understand how he feels. And right now, you not only feel a sense of pride from him, but a flicker of attraction too. It’s in the air. The chemistry, the spark, it’s surrounding you both, and it’s something you feel quite often, but never have the courage to act on. 

You’re almost certain that the friendship between you and Din means something more, or at least, it’s heading towards something more. But the intimate moments you share with each other, brief moments like this, make you wonder why he doesn’t make a move.

You don’t even have to see the man's face to know that he’s eyeing you up and down. Upon feeling him lean in, something you’ve felt him do many times before, you muster up the courage to lean in as well.

However, the confidence escapes him at the last second and he pulls back, clearing his throat awkwardly. “We should leave now, mesh’la,” He says, breaking the silence and just like that, the moment is over. “ We need to get back on track and complete the job.”

What? You ask yourself as your mouth falls open and your eyes widen, exhibiting your shock and disbelief. After everything that has happened today, especially after a brawl against three Trandoshans, you're shocked that he is still going to hand the baby over to the client. Din picked up on your reaction instantly and straightened his back, as if preparing himself for a dispute. 

“Excuse me?” You scoff, your cheeks burning up again for an entirely different reason now. It wasn’t flattery, or attraction, it was anger. “Din, you can’t be serious. We can’t hand the baby over to the client. Especially now that we know other hunters are after him too-” You walk over to one of the Trandoshans laying on the ground and retrieve their tracking fob before presenting it to him, “-The client gave you the job, but handed out more fobs? It doesn't feel right and you know it.” 

“Cyar’ika, please don’t do this.” He sighs while running his gloved hand over the scruff of his neck, the pleadings in his voice for you to not argue about this falling on deaf ears. You are most certainly going to argue about this with him. You cross your arms and shake your head, like you had already settled the argument without even uttering another word. But, the dispute was nowhere near settled. “Need I remind you of the code in the Guild?” He asks with a bite to his tone of voice, “If you don’t like this job, I’ll finish this one on my own.” 

“On your own?” You laugh humourlessly while waving the tracking fob. “Good luck with that when the whole Guild could have these! What happens if you get hurt? What then?” Biting back with your own set of questions, you watch as the man huffs a short breath and turns away from you, evidently maddened with your bickering.  “Don’t turn away. Answer me -” You give him a second to answer, but grow impatient as you're met with a lengthy silence once again. “- What happens if you get hurt, Mando? You can’t do this alone.” 

Din turns to you now and stands close, his voice raised to a level that hurts. “I was doing just fine on my own two years ago, Y/N.” Turning away again, as if he couldn’t stand another second looking at you or spend any more time arguing, it didn’t matter anyways as you had ultimately lost the dispute. You give him another second, another chance to make things right and take back what he said, but he doesn’t turn around or mutter a single word. 

“Okay then,” You mumble, lowering your head, “Am I just the medic? Is that all I am to you?” You ask, and still, the man doesn’t turn to face you or answer your question. The silence spoke for him and that was all you needed to know before turning around to walk away. You gave him plenty of chances to fix his mistake, but only until your back was turned did he try. 

“Cyar'ika.” He calls out for you, finally coming to his senses, but it wasn’t quick enough as you didn’t respond to him. You made your way towards the baby and the sound of your muffled cries made his head hang low with shame. No matter how quiet you tried to be, your cries were audible to his ears, enhanced by the mechanics in his helmet. 

Although you were quite visibly sad, he watched you put on a fake smile and talk to the baby like nothing was wrong. The warmness of your soul shone through the misery, causing the little guy to beam and babble baby nonsense. It was a sight so beautiful to witness, so beautiful that it was distracting. 

Din can’t allow himself to get too wrapped up in the emotions that the child brings. It’s conflicting, confusing and…  foreign. He’s never felt this way before. Never felt this way before with any woman around a child, but it’s different with you and it clouds his mind, throws him off balance and disrupts his focus so much that he doesn’t pay attention to what’s most important right now. Like the danger lingering in the immediate surroundings. 

“Y/N!” The man calls to you again, his voice was laden with urgency. “Behind you! Y/N - behind you.” Sprinting toward your position while swinging the strap of his amban rifle around his chest, Din takes aim at another Trandoshan and fires, obliterating the reptilian humanoid to a thousand dust particles. 

You fall down, your knees hitting the sandy terrain below as your pained cries penetrate the sound of his beating heart deafening his ears. You took a hit from the Trandoshan, his blade had cut through your clothes and marked your skin before he was blasted into organic matter. 

“Mesh’la.” He choked. Rushing over and kneeling on the ground behind you, he reaches out to hold your arms. The injury you sustained was across your back, diagonally, at least three inches long and almost half an inch deep. A clean cut, but angry red and weeping with blood. “Easy now, sweet girl. You’re bleeding, just take it easy.” He reassures you with a slight tremble in his tone, his worry for your well-being perceivable. 

“The disinfectant,” You hissed in reply whilst shaking your head, “Get the disinfectant. It’s in my satchel, Mando.” Gently removing your satchel over your shoulder, he places the bag onto the floor and opens it up to search through your medical supplies. Supplies that are normally used for him. There’s irony in the fact you became a medic to treat others, not yourself, and the man despises that his involvement in the bounty hunting business has caused you harm. 

And although he is helping to the best of his knowledge, you’re directing him on what to do. “Open the cap and pour a generous amount over the wound.” You explain, then grab his hand on your hip to hold onto for comfort. He begins to ask if you’re sure, but couldn’t even finish his sentence as your sobbing plea cut him off. “Yes-yes! Just get it over with. Please, Din.” 

Listening to your instructions, he held his breath and prepared himself as he began dousing your back with disinfectant. You bawled with agony, your back arching away from him naturally with the instinct to stop the pain, but to his regret, he pulled you towards him and continued to pour. He clenches his jaw as you cry, his fingers almost turning blue from the force of your grip on his hand. “I’m sorry.” He apologizes, to which you don’t accept and stutter in reply. “This isn’t y-your fault.” 

Releasing your hand to place his thumb and forefinger on your chin, he tilts your head to look at him before leaning in. “I’m sorry, Y/N - for this, for yelling at you, for saying that I was doing just fine two years ago and… and you’re not just a medic.”  He rests his helmet against your head and whispers, though his voice breaks with remorse. “You’re so much more than that, mesh’la. You mean so much to me.” 

“Din, I-” You open your mouth to object, but he cuts you off by holding his thumb over your lips while shushing you. “Don’t speak and conserve your energy, we’ll talk about it later. Just let me take care of you first.” He says. 

“No, Din…” You sigh, eyes blinking slowly while slurring your words. “I was going… going to say that I… I can’t keep my eyes… I don't feel good…”  Your body becomes limp as you fall into his arms. Your vision darkens quickly, and the last thing you saw before everything went black was the baby's eyes looking at you as he peaks over the pod.

The next time you awoke, it was a brief moment of consciousness. The familiar sound of Din’s amban rifle could be heard as he fired off multiple rounds and your eyes glimmered open to see his legs, the bandolier of cartridges wrapped around his calf. You saw his gloved hand reaching for ammunition to load into his weapon and worried as to why he needed them. 

“It’s ok. Everything is ok,” he says upon noticing you were awake and were fighting to keep your eyes open. “We’re safe here. Go back to sleep, cyar’ika.” 

Eyes closing once again, you couldn’t keep them open no matter how hard you tried to, and his voice soon faded as you slipped into a deep slumber. The silence took over and, oddly, it felt comforting. Although it only felt like minutes had passed, you knew it must have been longer as your surroundings were different. 

There was no longer a warm breeze, but the cold presence of steel pressing into your side, and beneath you, it felt spongy and soft, thus indicating you were laying on a bed. The unmistakable sound of Kuiil’s voice could be heard in the distance as he makes the baby laugh and you open your eyes to confirm your assumptions on your whereabouts, but are met with locks of brown hair instead. 

It’s Din. He’s the cold presence of steel pressing into your side as he sat on the edge of the bed and it’s his hair that you were currently staring at with wide eyes. His back was turned, but you could still see the back of his head and instantly shut your eyes, fearing that if you spent one more second looking, you wouldn’t be able to turn away. 

“Mando,” You whisper immediately, panicking, then feel him moving around. “Mando, why don’t you have your helmet on? Stars! I could have seen your face.”

You begin to shift your position to turn away from him, but are reminded of the wound on your back. The pain struck you suddenly and harshly, causing Din’s hands to dart out to cover your eyes just in time as you opened them with instinct. He was gentle but quick. “It’s ok, mesh’la. You can’t see, it’s ok.” He reassures you through the strained whimpers slipping past your lips. 

“Where is your helmet?” You ask, getting your teeth. You close your eyes again once the surge of pain passes over and the soothing properties of bacta gel takes over. You can feel the substance on your back, feel the stuff working to heal your injury. “My eyes are closed now. It’s safe but… Shit, Din. I saw your hair.” You say apologetically. 

“It’s fine, sweet girl.” He chuckles softly, the sound making your mouth fall open with shock as you retort. “It’s not funny. I’m not allowed to see you - or your hair! What… W-what happens now?” You ask, to which he laughs again and startles you unintentionally when reaching out to cup your cheek. You weren’t expecting to feel his gloved fingers on your skin, but you quickly leaned into his touch as his gesture brought consolation. 

“Look at me,” He requests, “It's safe to look, I promise.” 

Rolling your eyes behind closed lids, you make a surprised sound when he caresses your cheek with his thumb. Again, you weren’t expecting the comforting gesture, but deeply appreciated it. And whether or not it was the bacta gel or Din easing the discomfort in your back, you chose to believe it was the latter.

A short moment passes before you finally open your eyes and find relief in the T shape of his helmet. Although you would love nothing more than to see his identity, the face of his helmet is what you know, it’s home. Your face softens as you relax into the palm of his hand, but the importance and worry around your question still lingers, thus causing you to ask again. “What happens now? I thought I wasn’t allowed to see you without the helmet, doesn’t that also mean I can’t see your hair?” 

“You didn’t see my face, nor did you remove my helmet, mesh’la,” He shakes his head, his voice soft like honey, “It’s okay and besides-” He turns his head, displaying the brown locks of his hair at the base of his neck, “-You can see my hair with the helmet on.” 

“Oh,” You whisper with intrigue, “Surprised I didn’t notice sooner, but your hair is…” Lifting your hand with a desire to touch his hair, you back out at the last second and retract your arm, but Din felt your movements and quickly assured. “Go ahead. I trust you.” 

You reach out again and caress the base of his neck, your fingertips massaging his scalp which draws out the heaviest sounding exhale you’ve ever heard from him; a sigh of relief, filled with endearment and relaxation. It was a gratifying feeling, seeing and hearing the man lean into your touch without fear of betrayal in this moment of vulnerability. Din is vulnerable at this moment, his guard is down and just the mere thought of removing his helmet sickens you. It never crosses your mind. 

“Your hair is beautiful, Din.” You murmur sweetly, a smile on your lips displaying your satisfaction and joy from something so simple. The action of touching his hair which you’d love to do again, to feel him melt in your arms like soft putty and feel a sense of home from your touch, like you feel a sense of home when looking into the T-shape of his visor. 

You gently squeeze the base of his neck, a way of reassuring him, before pulling your hand back, however, it was apparent that he wanted more as he sharply held your wrist and directed your hand back to his hair. “Please?” He asks in a whispered breath, hopeful and optimistic, desperate. “Keep playing with my hair, ner cyar’ika.” 

You laugh, a mixture of surprise and confusion obvious in your tone. The difference in his pet name for you was confusing, and his request for you to continue playing with his hair was surprising. Though, you granted his request gladly and began playing with his hair. “What does cyar’ika mean anyway?” You ask, tilting your head with interest while wondering what faces he was making under the helmet from your massaging movements. “Is there a difference when you say ner cyar’ika?”

“Yes.” He groans in reply, the sound drawing out another laugh from your lips as your smile deepens. You open your mouth to ask another question, until he turns his head to face you and leans across your body. The pause in his manoeuvre speaks of hesitancy, unsure on whether or not you were comfortable with what was about to do. 

The question you had vanishes from your mind as you nod to the man, nodding with confirmation for him to lay down and rest his head in your arms. The bed in which you lay on didn’t feel small until Mando lay on it with you. Not that you minded anyway, but it really detailed the size and stature of the man, especially the broad expanse of his chest and back. 

He raised both hands to his helmet, and before he could even ask, you closed your eyes with baited breath as he removed it to optimize the comfiest position. The position he chose however, was burying his face between your neck and shoulder. You didn't release the breath you were holding, it was snatched from your lungs.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you thought this day would come, but doubt is what kept it at the back of your mind. You never entertained the idea of laying in bed with Mando too much as it felt like a pipe dream to have the man in your arms like this, and now that you do, it feels better than you ever could have imagined.

The pain in your back is practically non-existent now, almost as if you never even sustained an injury, and that’s because of his presence, his proximity and his comfort. It wasn’t a struggle to keep your eyes closed as you basked in the sensation of him carefully laying his weight over you like this.

Something else you’ve also thought about in the past, but tried not to think about too much, is Din laying over you for an entirely different reason. And perhaps it’s because of the level of intimacy in this position that brings those thoughts back to the surface, or maybe it was the electrifying feeling of his lips pressed against your skin. 

The man wasn’t exactly kissing you per se, but the bare contact of his lips placed against your neck like this felt like a kiss. Besides, the vest shirt that you wore left a lot of skin on your chest on display, thus providing Din, and yourself, to relish in skin-to-skin contact.

You could feel his beard, it was a light amount of hair, grazing against you with every little movement of his head. Soon, though, all of those little movements from Din became obvious that he was uncomfortable, as if he kept moving slightly to adjust his comfort.

“Want me to stop?” You ask, wondering if he has had enough of you playing with his hair, but to your delight, he shook his head as he inhaled deeply. He smiles against your skin, thus piquing your interest. “What? What is it?” You laugh bashfully. 

“You smell good, ner cyar’ika.” He replies, nestling his nose into your neck to inhale the natural scent of you. The smile on your face is yet to fade, his actions are what keeps your lips turned upwards, that was until you felt something wet dart onto your skin. It was brief, too brief, but you felt it nonetheless.

It was Din’s tongue, and your smile disappears as you bite your lip, leaving a hankering desire to feel it again. Your skin heats up beneath him as you entertain those thoughts about him lying over you like this for a different reason. You think about how you’ve yearned for his gloved fingers to touch other areas of your body, and as well as wondering about his identity, you’ve also wondered what he looks like nude. A mind is an imaginative place, and you’ve imagined him naked more than once. You sigh softly with the ache between your legs, wishing Din to be the one who eases it. 

“Mesh’la,” He mumbles, grabbing your attention, and when you hum in reply to him, he asks: “Is everything ok? Your heart is racing -” Your eyes spring open with worry, feeling like he could see your dirty thoughts, thus causing your heart to pound harder,  “- Hey, hey, relax. I can move, am I making you uncomfortable?” He asks, blaming himself for your panic. Although he is to blame, it’s not for the reason he thinks. 

“No, it’s just…” You falter with finding the right words, but the patience to wait for him any longer escapes you. “It’s just that I felt your tongue on my neck and if… Stars, this is going to be embarrassing if I’m wrong… and if you did it purposely, then I want to feel it again, but…” You gulp, gathering your courage to admit your feelings, “...But if it was just a mistake, then I think that we should maybe stop what we’re doing because I’m attracted to you Din.” 

“You are?” He asks, to which you reply firmly. “Yes. Yes, I am.” 

“So…” He smiles, “You like this?” He asks before placing an open mouthed kiss to your neck, his tongue darting out onto your skin again, thus eliciting you to sigh breathily. “Y-yes. Yes, I like that.” Your eyes close naturally as he plants another kiss on your skin, still with a smile on his lips, as he begins to pant. “I’m attracted to you too. Have been for a long time, ner cyar’ika.” 

“Oh, Din.” You moan. With arousal and relief, his admission makes you moan, the sound acting as a catalyst as he moves down your body, his head disappearing under the covers eagerly to hear you moan again. “Are you able to lay on your back?” You hear him ask, though his voice was muffled, you heard him clearly and nod frantically with excitement.

Shifting your position to accommodate him, you couldn’t feel the pain in your back anymore and slipped your hands beneath the covers, your fingers finding his hair with ease. “It’s ok, I’m comfortable lying like this.” You say while focusing on his every move with anticipation. You could feel his breath fanning across your lower stomach, his fingers hooked inside the waistband of your pants as he leans in to place another kiss on your skin. 

You lift your hips up with a silent request, one that he understood without a need for words, and begins pulling your pants down, along with your underwear. He leans in and presses his lips to your inner thigh, nipping a path toward your sex. You unintentionally begin gripping his hair by the handfuls, evidently desperate to feel his tongue delve into your slick folds. The man doesn’t waste time and gives in to his own desperation. 

“Din!” You whine upon feeling the tip of his tongue meet your clit. He teases you at first, moving his tongue in a circular motion with a feather-light touch, the action making your hips lift off the bed to search for more. You feel him smiling against your inner thigh, clearly satisfied with your reactions, before he closes his lips around your sensitive bud and sucks gently.

You let go of his hair to hold the back of your palm over your mouth, quieting your mewls of pleasure to a respectable level. Considering all the noises Din himself is making was driving you feral, it was a struggle to try and keep quiet. He sounded hungry, like a man starved for a taste of your sweetness right from the source, as if he had dreamed of this moment and was making the most of it now that it’s a reality.

Your hands abandoned his hair to grip handfuls of the bed sheets instead, your back arching as you tilt your head to the side and bury your face into the pillow. Your orgasm crept up on you, started off with a happy cramp in your stomach but quickly became bliss as he eased a finger inside your entrance, soothing the ache in your velvety walls. Din grunted heavily, needily, as he drank your desire.

He continued to flick his tongue against your clit while angling his finger into a come hither motion, caressing that sweet spot deep inside. The stars behind your eyes and the goosebumps rippling across your body never felt so good before, especially from the simple act of receiving oral. It’s been a while, a long while, since you’ve last felt the pleasurable touch of your own hands, let alone a man's pair of hands.

You needed this, needed to release all your pent up sexual energy, though it only made you insatiable for more. “Din,” You call to him, calling on his help to your frustrations, “Din, I need you.” 

Suddenly, his hand emerges from the quilt, “Here,” he says, handing you a blindfold. “Put this on for me, sweet girl.” He asks, to which you oblige and pull the item over your eyes hastily. “Ready - now get up here, I need to feel you.” 

Moving up your body without having to tell him twice, he travels slowly and plants kisses on your skin along the way, his smile never fading as he takes in the sight of you beneath him. “Gar’re bid mesh’la… (you’re so beautiful).” He growls wantonly, “...Bid, bid mesh’la (so, so beautiful).”

“I’m not sure what that means,” You giggle, the smile on your lips as wide as ever, “But I like the way you say it.” You reach out carefully in search of his face, to which he helps by directing your hands, and once you feel him, you gasp. “Stars! You’re so beautiful,” you whisper in awe as you trace the outline of his facial features, “Your lips… your cheekbones… nose… jawline… everything about you is beautiful, Din.” 

“Thank you, sweet girl.” He breathes, eyes closing to relish in the soft touch of your palms cupping his cheeks. “I’ll teach you Mando’a and soon you will understand everything I say, but I said you were beautiful too. So beautiful.” He explains, causing your cheeks to burn once again with flattery as you pull him closer. His lips press against yours with a bruising kiss, and you couldn’t help but moan because of the raw passion and loving desire to finally feel what you’ve yearned for. 

Although there was a hint of desperation in his bid to remove your clothes, Din was gentle with his movements, gentle and respectful. You helped remove his clothes too, and with each inch of skin revealed, you marvelled at the bare touch of him pressing against you. You’ve seen areas of the man's skin before when taking care of his injuries, but never fully seen him naked. 

Using your sense of touch to see, you feel his body and drag your fingers along his chest, feeling the brute strength that he holds. The strength of a warrior. Between your legs, you feel his member pressing against your cunt and it was an impressive size. Aching to be buried in your warm. His breath bellowing across your face, hot and heavy, laden with the same sound of relief from earlier when you played with his hair as you admire his body now. 

“Cyar’ika.” He groans. Placing his hands beside your head, you feel his body shudder with need, his hips rolling forward ever so slightly to ease the throb that burdens his cock. You slip your hands around the base of his neck, pulling him in to close the gap and kissing his lips whilst parting your legs. As he lines himself up at your entrance, your hands fall to his biceps, holding him tightly as you prepare from the breach. 

“Nngh,” you break off to moan, deeply and satisfyingly, “Fuck, Din! Keep going.” You lift your head off the pillow to kiss him again, letting him swallow all the little pretty noises you were making as he carefully buried himself to the hilt. Your walls opened up with ease, stretching to accommodate his size. “It’s ok,” You say, pleading for him to move. “I’m ok.” 

“Are you sure, mesh’la?” He asks, to which you nod in reply. “Waited so long for this,” pulling his hips back slowly, he grabs onto your thigh for leverage before burying himself into your cunt again. “Dank Farrik!” He grunts across your face, “So warm and tight. Better than I imagined, sweet girl.” 

The sound of his filthy words made you mewl, having never heard the man speak this way before, you were surprised, yet growing more aroused and confident to be honest with him. “I used to think… Shit!” You stutter as he grinds into you, drawing out a moan from your lips, “...I used to think about this. In the night, while you were sleeping in your bunk, I’d think about you making love to me.” You admit. 

“Oh fuck.” Din gasps. Picking up his pace while resting his forehead against yours, his moans broken and breathless, his cock reaches a new depth inside your cunt, hitting that sweet spot inside over and over again. “I’m so relieved to hear you say that,” he says, “I took myself in hand many nights thinking about you."  

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” You quickly warn upon feeling the peak of your climax racing toward you. “I’m close. Stars! I’m so close. Keep talking to me.” You cry, feeling yourself on the verge of tearing up from the intensity of your pleasure, but the sound of his voice keeps you tethered to the moment, preventing you from floating up to cloud nine. 

“I would dream about you often,” He groans while holding the base of your neck, his thumbs dragging across your skin reassuringly, “Wet dreams, mesh’la. I felt so ashamed, but… Fuck, they felt so good. Dreaming about you in my sleep felt so good.” 

“More… Tell me more.” You hiss. Wrapping your legs around his back and locking your ankles together, you feel his hips falter as he moans through gritted teeth. “Your pussy, nngh! I’d dream about your pussy wrapped around me, taking my load, mesh’la. Again and again until you couldn’t hold any more and it dripped out of you. Fuck! I’m gonna… Shit, Y/N, I’m coming-” He cuts himself off with a needy whine, throwing his head back with bliss as he feels you clenching around him. 

“I-Inside,” You begged him, “Please, Din. Come inside of me.” The man couldn’t stop himself even if he tried to. You felt him reach climax, the warmth of his release spreading inside of you, coating your velvety walls as they pulsed around him, as if milking him of everything he could give. “Mando. Fuuck, Mando!” You mewled directly into his ear, your eyes screwed shut behind the blindfold as his orgasm pushed you over the edge. 

White static casted over your eyes as your ears ring loudly, your heart thrums in your chest as nothing but pleasure courses through your veins. You unintentionally dig your nails into his back, clawing at his skin as he reverts to a slow grind into your cunt, the movements pleasuring your clit and prolonging the ecstasy of your high. “That’s it, sweet girl. There you go.” He praises you through it as he comes down from his orgasm, the sound of his voice overstimulating. 

Resting your head back against the pillow as you come down, breathing heavily, he plants loving kisses along your jawline and neck. “So pretty like this.” He whispers sweetly, his voice heavy with satisfaction as your hands find his face again. “Are you okay?” He asks. 

“How…” Your voice croaks, “How do you say happy in Mando’a?” 

“Briikase,” He chuckles, to which you reply with a smile. “Well, I’m briikase right now. Really briikase.” 

“Me too, cyar’ika-” He pauses to brush the hair away from your face, correcting himself. “Ner cyar’ika baar’ur.” You open your mouth to ask another question, to ask what difference in his pet names mean, but he leans in to catch your lips in a fervent kiss instead. 

Din pulls back, looking to where your eyes would be behind the blindfold while caressing your cheek. “Ner cyar’ika baar’ur... my darling medic. Ni’m ori briikase as pirusti bal ni kar'taylir darasuum gar, mesh’la... I’m very happy as well and I love you, beautiful.” 

You make a surprised sound when hearing some familiar words in his language and learning what they mean, that he has said them before in the past. “I love you too, Din.” You say earnestly, the tears staining the fabric of his blindfold, which you now just realized that he’s kept in his pocket in hopes to use with you one day, like today. You not only became Din D’jarin’s medic, but you became his - his darling medic. 

There aren’t a lot of things that surprise you these days as a trained medic, but that doesn’t mean nothing surprises you anymore. These last few days have been adventurous and emotional, foreign and unfamiliar, life-threatening and dangerous. It’s been life-changing for you and the Mandalorian, and it’s all because of a baby. The little guys presence not only sparked your maternal instincts, but the protective fatherly instincts within Din too. 

And, although neither of you know it now, the baby is only just the beginning of your treacherous journey across the stars in search of reuniting him with his people.

Tagging:

Perma Taglist (Everything): @marydjarin @kirsteng42 @supernaturalgirl @supernaturalgirl20 @harriedandharassed @joelmillerscoffee @joelsrifle @swtaura @alexxavicry @boliv-jenta @dragonsondragons @practicalghost @janebby @faceache111 @sleepylunarwolf @tusk89 @anismaria-blog @graciexmarvel @munsonownsmyass

All Mandalorian Content: @pale-gingerale @mandalorian-dindjarin @michele131 @chxpsi @burninggracesandbridges @wordsfromshona @lavenderbxnny @margofiore  

All Pedro Pascal Character Content: @joelsflannel @mswarriorbabe80 @readsalot73 @allthe-ships @avengersftspn @hb8301 @scorpio-marionette @squidwell @sunnshineeexoxo @trickstersp8 @graciexmarvel @tanzthompson @bbyanarchist @oogaboogasphincter @emiemiemiii 

[gatorbites-imagines]

Hai there, i was wondering if you could do a mandalorian x male child reader?

Can the male reader be a foundling and Mando finds us or something like that?

Like Mando is becomeing some sort of father figure?

If not, that's totally fine too!

I love your storys!!!

Din Djarin with a foundling pantoran reader

Headcanons

I can’t remember any of the Mandalorian language *scrunches up in pain*. Reader is Pantoran, cuz hehe blue and yellow tattoos.

Din would find you when he’s out on a bounty, sometime after he’s given Grogu to Luke. This means Din is still feeling extra raw and empty, lacking some purpose with his life other than just Bounty hunting, since he’s realized there’s more to life.

Imagine his surprise, when his latest bounty, some slave trader, is already down for the count when he arrives. Din quickly finds you, in all your blue skinned, yellow facial tattooed glory, glaring and barring your teeth like a wild Tooka.

In the beginning he doesn’t know what to do with you, since you end up telling him you have no one to go back too, since your parents sold you for being an affair baby. It aches in his heart to see someone so young, already so jaded by the world.

He might have already grown attached the moment he saw you, but he’s not gonna force any adoption or anything. But before either of you know it, you’ve wormed your way into his life and are living with him on his ship.

Boba and Fennec are in no way surprised when Din arrives on Tatooine with you following him like a baby duckling. They both have a good laugh when you launch yourself feet first towards an assassin though, both deciding if Din won’t take you, they will.

Because of your time as a slave, you have a hard time trusting, and Din doesn’t wanna force it. So, he gives you all the time you need to get comfortable. He definitely doesn’t start silently crying under his helmet when you fall asleep against his side for the first time.

He ends up changing up the interior of his ship so you can fit, giving you your own seat and bunk area, and making sure things you might need are in reach.

Din doesn’t realize he’s pretty much already adopted you in everything but adoption vow, until Boba points it out to him one day. Boba points out how Din has already given you a few armor pieces in durasteel and has been training you in the Mandalorian fighting styles.

Din becomes flustered and embarrassed, and mumbles something about not wanting to force it. Turns out, you don’t want to force it either because you still fear he will get rid of you like your first parents.

After some fighting, you sneaking along for bounty hunting, you almost dying because of this, and Din having to save you, you guys finally accept how much you have come to care.

Din ends up asking if you would be okay with being adopted by him, to join his small clan with Grogu, and to be his child. You tear up, and at first Din thinks it because you are so against the idea. But then you sob out a yes and cling to him, mumbling how you wanted nothing more than to have a family.

Din speaks the Mandalorian adoption vows, and he can now finally take his helmet off around you, as you are his child and that is the way.

You end up looking into the meanings of Pantoran tattoos with Boba and Fennecs help, and add to your already existing ones to show your clan and Mandalorian ways, as you are now Mandalorian.

Din takes you to meet Grogu, if you haven’t already met him, even if its just over a call or video chat. Grogu is extremely excited to have an older sibling, but also pouty that he cant go with you guys on adventures or get his own armor until he’s of age for his species.

You start getting your own armor as you get older. Its up to you if you follow the way, of never removing your helmet or not, Din just wants you to be happy and healthy and will support you either way.

If you meet Dins former clan, you always make sure to kick Paz in the ankles or the back of the knees (he’s still alive to me, idc idc), because he wronged your father in your eyes. You always end up roughhousing with Paz’s kid, the two of you beating on each other like Mandalorian kids do.

Because of your age Din slows down with his bounty hunting, and does smaller and less dangerous contracts, because he doesn’t wanna leave you without a parent. He’s definitely set up something with Boba and Fennec, that they’ll take care of you if he were to pass, just in case.

When you get older he takes you along with him, helping you become the kinda person you wanna be. If you end up wanting to be a bounty hunter, he’s the best trainer there is, and if you wanna be something completely different, he will find someone who can teach you.

Din is a tad bit overprotective, even as you grow older, its in his blood and he can’t help it. He just wants his kid to be safe and happy, and can’t bear the thought of you being hurt even though Din knows that’s just the way of the galaxy.

But no matter what, Din is a very loving father, even though he is a little awkward and tense in the beginning. He would do anything for his kid, and if you were ever in danger or kidnapped, he’s ready to destroy the entire galaxy to get you back.

[thefrogdalorian]

The Best of Both Worlds

Din Djarin x Female Reader Modern!AU

Summary: When a new Star Wars TV show called The Mandalorian premiered, you found yourself completely enamoured with the titular character. Enjoyment of watching the lone bounty hunter travel through the galaxy quickly turned to obsession. There was just something about the show that captured your imagination. Now, you spend much of your free time — when you're not working a fast-paced, minimum wage and incredibly stressful job at a prestigious London Museum— speaking to your online friends about your love for the show. There's just one thing... Despite how much you love The Mandalorian, no one knows the identity of the man behind the helmet... either in the show, or in real life. You only know him as Mando. No one has ever seen his face, no one knows his name.  Even after the countless hours of speculation from fans online, which even you have occasionally participated in, no one is any the wiser to the identity of the mysterious man who wears the shiny armour.  Surely, given the depth of your love for the show, you'd recognise if the man who you spend so much time obsessing over online was to ever cross paths with you. Right?

Content Warnings: Reader is AFAB, uses she/her pronouns and in her mid 20s. Age gap between her and Din is noted but not really central to the story. Grogu is human, hints of past trauma/child abuse before Din adopted him are mentioned but not described in detail. Some mature scenes later on in the fic but not explicit smut... because I just cannot write x reader smut! Author's Note: SO very excited to finally share this fic! Thank you to the lovely @suresnips for being my beta. I really appreciate you ♡ This baby was originally my NaNoWriMo 2023 project and was inspired by this post from @toxic-seduction that I saw one evening and couldn't stop thinking about! POVs will alternate chapter to chapter from Din to reader. It was fun to write that way! Set in London for a few reasons: partly because I love the movie Notting Hill and it has some of those vibes (if you squint), also, the village where Din lives is based on Elstree Studios just outside London, where the OT was filmed and ultimately because NO WAY was I writing a modern!AU set in the states, it would've been painfully obvious a Brit wrote it. While there are lots of references to places in London, I don't live there so it might not be truly accurate (Londoners don't come for me). Also, to be political for a sec, reader works at the British Museum and I hate that institution. This was actually the line of work I was interested in when I was at Uni but for many different reasons I did not pursue it. However, it works for the plot of this story and as you'll see, she doesn't exactly love it either and goes on a few rants. Just wanted to make that clear that her job there is not an endorsement of it or anything. I can't stand them or their historical apologist bs and I wish we would give back all the things we stole (including the Parthenon Marbles)! Finally, it was incredibly important to me that the actor behind Mando in this fic clearly be the fictional character of Din Djarin rather than the real person Pedro Pascal, because rpf is not my jam! I hope I did that pretty well but just wanted to warn that if you're expecting me to use Din as some kind of way to write a Pedro fic, this won't be for you! Okay, I'll shut up now! This fic is fully written, just needs editing so hopefully I'll get a couple of chapters up each week, but life happens. I'm very proud of this one and I really hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! Also if you would like to be added to my taglist for this fic, please let me know! Happy reading ♡

❁ My Masterlist ❁ Read on AO3 ❁

Why Does It Always Rain On Me? [Reader POV]: After a dreadful day which saw you drenched by a rainstorm after leaving a hectic day at work, you reflect on your love for Mando and upcoming excitement for the sci-fi convention you will soon be attending with your internet best friend.

He Is My Only Priority [Din's Pov]: The character of The Mandalorian is known and loved by millions. But there is another, much softer side to the man who portrays him that Din Djarin is determined to keep hidden from the world, despite the challenges that presents for him and his beloved son, Grogu.

This Is Why (I Don't Leave The House) [Reader's POV]: Your internet bestie arrives in preparation for the Star Wars convention you will attend together. Everything is set for the greatest weekend of your life! Until you arrive at the con and find yourself overwhelmed by all the crowds and noise. At least you have numerous incredibly realistic Mando cosplays to distract you from how stressed you feel, and there's one in particular which is uncannily accurate...

Curiosity Killed The Cat [Din's POV]: Despite his reservations and against his better instincts, Din heads to a Star Wars convention that he was invited to. Although he fears that his cover will be blown, curiosity gets the best of Din and he can't resist attending a panel. But Din doesn't exactly find the answers he was looking for. Instead, he finds something far more precious. Something that he would never have expected...

He's So Tall (And Handsome As Hell) [Reader's POV]: Being back in the real world and returning to work after an incredible weekend at the convention where you had so many fun experiences is taking its toll on you. The thought of collapsing on your couch in front of The Mandalorian is the only thing keeping you going. However, the universe has other plans for you. News of an out-of-hours tour for a private client that you are asked to lead almost sends you over the edge, but when you finally meet the man, he is the opposite of what you were expecting. Weirdly, he seems familiar...

With A Little Help From My Friends [Din's POV]: Din returns to the set of The Mandalorian to begin filming a new season. Despite his experience and capability, he finds that he struggles to focus as his thoughts remain firmly fixed on a certain someone...

You're The Sunflower [Reader's POV]: Despite feeling certain that you'll never see the ridiculously handsome man you gave a tour of the museum to, a special delivery is about to change everything...

Your Face Hung Up High In The Gallery [Din's POV]: After a difficult few days of filming The Mandalorian, Din is excited to spend time with you as he finally takes you on your first proper date...

Have I Known You Twenty Seconds or Twenty Years? - (Reader's POV):  Despite a messy evening which led to you waking up in an opulent hotel which you have no memory of falling asleep in, memories of kind brown eyes and breathless kisses soon come flooding back to soothe your soul. Your relationship deepens as the two of you spending time together whenever your busy schedules allow. But one night, a turn of events causes you - despite Din's reassurances - to wonder if everything you have been working so hard to build together has just come crashing down around you...

There's A War Inside Of Me - [Din's POV]: The realities of the secret he is keeping from you begin to weigh heavily on Din's mind and he seeks advice from a certain curly haired co-star on what his next move should be. Things don't go exactly according to plan, not least because of the typically awful English weather...

It Could Be Love, We Could Be The Way Forward - [Reader's POV]: With your respective busy jobs keeping you and Din apart, a mystery date after a hectic day at work is exactly what you needed.

The Calm - [Din's POV]: When filming overruns and conspires to keep Din from the fun weekend he planned for you, he agonises over his decision. Fortunately, he manages to salvage the weekend, even after a calamity involving a rowboat...

The Storm - [Reader's POV]: The happiness you feel in response to a question Din posed to you is somewhat clouded by lingering doubts. Yet your affection for each other helps you to push those emotions down, until a weekend spent at his cottage changes everything...

P.S. - I tried to be inclusive for all body types and skin tones in this fic, but if I missed something, I do apologise. If you do spot something that takes you out of the fic, I am more than happy for constructive criticism as I wouldn't want anyone to be excluded on those grounds. I am always trying to do better and would love to know where I went wrong so I can improve and be more aware of these things going forward, so I would appreciate it if you could let me know if you do spot anything. Thank you so much! ♡

[raspberrybesitos]

Woven in the Stars | din djarin x f!reader

Series masterlist | Main masterlist

Chapter 2 - Cosmically Sewn

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Word count: ~4k

Chapter summary: Din returns to town with Grogu, meeting with you to get custom clothes. Getting acquainted with the pair, you strike up an offer that could bring you and Din even closer. Will Din accept?

Chapter warnings: slow burn, mutual pining, dad!Din, flirting, one (1) use of the word “daddy” in a nonsexual way, reader refers to Din as ‘Mando’ (for now 🤭), POV switching, inaccurate star wars info, liberties taken with the Creed, reader is female, no mention of hair type/skin color/body type, NO USE OF Y/N, none really mostly just pining and fluff

A/N: hi everybody!!! tank you for sticking with me, life has been so hectic lately to say the least 🙃 but these two are finally acquainted with one another! the smut will happen eventually so bear with me y’all! i will throw y’all a bone occasionally, but the freak narsty smut happens all at the end. gotta let these two babies pine and let that slow burn burnnnn! can y’all sense i’m a sucker for the buildup? hehehe anyway i hope y’all enjoy! 🩵 not beta'd, all mistakes are my own.

Divider by @saradika

the first emboldened word = Din’s POV

the first italicized word = Your POV

Stirring in the plush, handsewn sheets, Din’s eyes flutter open, adjusting to the beaming sunlight. Groaning, he huffs as he rubs the shadow of stubble growing on his face, as he recalls what he did last night before falling asleep. Dread washes over him as he thinks of how he has to face you at the market later.

With a deep sigh, he rises from the bed and tidily makes his bed before padding into Grogu’s room. Thankfully, he’s still sleeping, still cuddled up with the stuffed bantha you gave to him.

You are everywhere he looks. How have you infiltrated his mind so quickly?

Din heads down the hall and into the refresher, opting to take a long shower while Grogu still sleeps. The scalding water soothes the dull aches that still linger in his body from years of battling. He scrubs hard, attempting to wash away what he did last night, the guilt and shame.

He shuts the water off and dries off before trudging back down the hall and into his room. As he slips on his flight suit, soft coos make his ears perk up. He smooths out the wrinkles in his shirt as he goes to peer into Grogu’s room. The child now wide awake and still gripping onto the bantha. He squeals at the sight of his father, hands up and stretched forward. 

Din cradles him in one arm as he walks out into the kitchen, starting their daily routine. One that consists of breakfast for Grogu, and sometimes Din. If he’s not eating breakfast with his son, he’s usually doing some work - whether that be house work or having comm link meetings with Teva or Karga.

Today, it’s just breakfast for the two of them. Grogu brushes the stubble on his father’s face while he prepares their meal. In the past, he’d tell Grogu to stop touching his helmet. Things have changed.

Din no longer wears his helmet around Grogu so long as they’re alone in their home. He’s part of his clan now, having adopted him. Seeing that Bo-Katan and a few others who’ve walked both worlds, and being exposed to different Mandalorians who practice the culture differently, he’s decided to take some liberties with the Creed. He wants his son to see him, all of him after losing him once. Also, Grogu is still far too young to partake in the Creed, so he should be allowed to see his father.

He prepares breakfast for the both of them, sitting Grogu down in his chair as he serves them both. His son squeals as his father serves him and sits beside him. Mirroring each other, the clan eats in silence. Grogu busies himself with his meal, completely oblivious to his spiraling father.

How is he supposed to face you again today? Why did he do that last night? Maker, he needs to regain his sense of self control. He knew domestic life was going to be an adjustment, but he didn’t think he’d let himself slip up so easily, so quickly. For stars sake, he’s already thinking about sharing a life with someone, with you. He has other things to take care of before he can even give that a second thought. Like settling in, helping Grogu adjust to this new life, prioritizing his contract work with Teva, and the occasional tasks from Karga. He hopes he can act normally today. You caught him off guard yesterday, but hopefully he can prepare himself to see your beautiful face.

A whine pulls him from his thoughts. Grogu has crawled into his lap, pouting up at him with those big brown eyes, meaning he’s still hungry. Din hands him his spoon, and turns him around to face the table. Grogu squeals with delight as he rapidly devours the rest of his father’s food. 

With a tiny burp, Grogu plops down into Din’s lap and sinks into the warmth of his chest. Din rises to his feet and pads into his son’s room, cleaning him up and changing him into a spare tunic. He settles Grogu in his pram, nuzzling the new stuffed bantha that he’s quickly attached to next to him, and walks across the hall to put on his armor.

As he reaches for his helmet, he calls out for Grogu before placing it on his head. “Come on, Grogu, let’s go.” A hissing sound erupts as he slips his helmet on, and he rushes back into the living room, slinging the sack over his shoulder while Grogu plays in the pram with his bantha. Another reminder of you, he exhales a deep modulated sigh as he braces himself for a day at the plaza. Embarrassment coursing through him as he and Grogu head out the door and off on their journey for today.

Maker give him strength.

The town bustles as the sweltering sun beams down onto the plaza. Setting up the last display at your textile stall, you wipe the bead of sweat that’s formed at your brow. Mando is supposed to return with Grogu today, making you feel particularly giddy about seeing the mandalorian again. You’ve heard tales about mandalorians your whole life, and have even seen some in passing having lived on Nevarro for a few years now. However, something about him was so enthralling.

You couldn’t place it. Perhaps it was the way he was so caring and gentle with his son, or perhaps it was his demeanor which was surprisingly a lot more open than you had expected. Most encounters with mandalorians are short, as they are not people of many words - but not with him. Something about the man in beskar has captivated you, unable to shake him from your head since meeting him yesterday.

Subconsciously, you’ve never taken this much interest in a commission before. You’d even selected an array of fabrics for him to choose from for Grogu. You tell yourself it’s because of the unorthodox, sweet duo. The green baby having captured your heart the second you laid eyes on him, his curious eyes wandering and babbles that escaped him having tugged at your heart strings. You wondered how he ended up with his father, the resemblance between them obviously nonexistent, but you didn’t ask. It’s not your place to know, let alone judge, unless Mando feels comfortable telling you.

You should know better than anyone how complicated familial relationships can be. That family does not always correlate to blood relation, being adopted since birth after your biological parents had given you up to your mother and father. You believe that the stars lead you to people. They lead you to your family - your parents, your brother, your sisters. You are their daughter, their sister despite what biology may say.

Oh how you miss them all so much. What you’d give to see them again. You hope they’re alright, that the krayt dragon hasn’t reached them despite all the time that has passed.

Biting back tears, you shake your head and pack the selected textiles into a box and place them in your home-turned-shop. Working out of your home has its perks - never having to leave. It’s also got its downsides with the lack of space. It can get crammed sometimes, and it’s hard to not bring work home with you - literally and figuratively. Big commissions can be stressful, and dealing with a particularly aggravating vendor neighbor doesn’t help.

Recounting your last encounter with him, it was thankfully diffused quickly by your other neighbors. He’d yelled at some innocent kids who were eyeing the fruits he sells, calling them thieves and accusing everyone of being one after he’d had a few pieces of fruit stolen from his stand. You’d intervened first, scolded him for yelling at children and consoling them by offering them some candy from your stash. Thankfully the other neighbors despised him as well and jumped into your’s and the children’s defenses. He backed off and hasn’t said anything since. Hopefully it stays that way. 

Thank the Maker he doesn’t actually live next to you.

The sound of your name pulls you from your recollection and back into reality. You rush outside and your breath hitches in your throat. There he is, in all his shiny glory. If he’s this captivating with his helmet on, you can’t help but wonder what he looks like underneath it.

You wave at them, beaming as Grogu returns a wave with his tiny hand as he holds the stuffed bantha you gifted him just yesterday. Din desperately tries to keep his composure as he approaches you, trying not to think of what he’d done last night. His hands having grown clammy under his gloves, his helmet suddenly feeling hotter as the sight of you sends his head spinning.

You’re radiant, as if you belong in the stars in the evening skies - outshining every galaxy he’s ever seen. Your energy is infectious, making his heartbeat stutter. 

“Hi, baby! I see you brought your new toy with you! Do you like it?” You ask, voice full of glee. Grogu happily garbles an incomprehensible response, but you take it as a ‘yes’ and burst into a fit of giggles. Your laugh like music to his ears, he bites back a groan under his helmet. 

Is there any part of you that isn’t beautiful?

“Hi, Mando,” you giggle. It sucks the air out of his lungs hearing your breathy laugh and his name from your lips. Sweat forms on his brow and he wishes he could wipe it away. He fidgets with his holster, giving you a nod. “Hi, cyar’ika,” he nervously stammers, the affectionate name having escaped his mouth without thinking. Your brow quirks as your lips pull into a grin. “I’ve never heard that before. Is that your native tongue?” You inquire, fully intrigued by the name.

Fuck. He didn’t mean to let the name slip.

“It is. It’s Mando’a, the language of my people.” Your smile grows larger, making Din’s heart beat faster and body grow hotter. “It sounds lovely! What does that word mean? Should I be insulted?” You playfully tease him. Unbeknownst to you, his eyes bug out of his head as his cheeks grow red. “What? No, it was not an insult, I promise. It means, uh… it means ‘friend,’” he lies. You nod, narrowing your eyes at him as if you don’t believe him.

“Okay. If you say so, Mando,” you tell him, coyly winking at him. He clears his throat as awkward tension fills the silence between you two.

Grogu’s squealing breaks the tension, making you laugh. “You ready for some new clothes, baby?!” You ask him, scooping him up from his pram, eliciting a giggle from the baby. 

His heart feels like it’s going to burst through the beskar.

Tickling the child, he laughs excitedly as you set him on one of the tables at your stall. “Wait here,” you tell the clan as you disappear into your studio. You return with a box containing something. You place the box on the table, Grogu cooing in curiosity. Din tilts his head to the side. 

“What’s this?” He asks, making you beam. 

“I hope you don’t mind, but I selected some fabrics for you to choose from based on what he was wearing yesterday! But also, please feel free to browse around the other selections,” you explain with a sparkle in your eyes as you smile at him, laughing as Grogu grabs one of your fingers to balance himself as he wobbles to the box.

He’s undeserving of your kindness, unable to fathom what he’s done to be on the receiving end of it.

“You didn’t have to do that, cyar’ika,” he nearly whispers. Your face is beginning to ache with the amount you’ve been smiling since he arrived. “It was no problem, Mando. I hope you like some of the selections. You can tell me if you don’t, you can be honest with me. Trust me, I can take it,” you tell him with a coy smile and a wink, making him suck in a sharp breath.

Keep it together, Din.

“Th-they’re lovely, cyar’ika. Thank you very much, I’m perfectly happy with any of the fabrics you’ve chosen,” he tells you. “Are you sure? Because I-I can pick out some more,” you say timidly.

Is he making you flustered? No. There’s no way.

“No need. They’re perfect.” You give him a nod and tuck your bottom lip between your teeth. “How about we let Grogu choose his favorites from the pile?” He says, subconsciously inching closer to you. “O-Okay,” you stutter.

You bend down to meet Grogu’s height. “Grogu! Which one do you like, baby?” You gently ask him as you hold up two pieces of fabric for him to choose from. He points to one in your left hand with a grunt. You repeat the process two more times, the smile never leaving yours or Din’s faces.

He watches quietly as you swipe your measuring tape from your apron, wrapping it around Grogu who garbles in confusion as he wonders what’s going on. He looks up at you with his big brown eyes, tiny teeth peeking out from his mouth. You smile and scrunch your nose at him, speaking to him about different things like toys, candy, animals, anything a child would like. You intently listen to every garble that streams from Grogu as if you can understand him, showing him enthusiasm as he babbles. 

Din can feel his body heating up, his chest feeling fuzzy as he watches you interact with his son.

Grogu goes for something in one of your pockets - the pin cushion. You and Din panic, you get to him before he pricks himself on a needle. “No no, baby! Those are sharp, they can hurt you. Here, you can play with this instead,” you say, handing him a spare one sans pins. You remove the one from your apron and toss it onto a table behind you, probably to ensure he doesn’t reach it at all.

How are you so maternal? Is it instinctual or do you have children of your own?

“You’re really good with him,” he says, moreso to himself rather than you. “Hmm?” You say, lifting your head and eyes wide as you meet his gaze. His heart feels like it’s going to combust every time you look at him. 

“What?” He asks. A smile splays on your face, teeth poking through your lips. “What did you say? I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch what you said,” you explain.

“Y-you’re, uh, you’re really good with him. Most people can’t keep up with his hyperness, but you can.” He sees something flash across your eyes.

Bashfulness?

“Oh. Thank you, that’s very kind,” you say, voice hushed and shy. “Do, um, do you have any children of your own, if you don’t mind me asking?” He can’t help, but ask - curious as to how you’re so good with his son, curious if you’ve got a riduur at home.

“No! No children, just me at home. I did have a little sister and have just always had a soft spot for kids, but no… no children,” you tell him, a noticeable deflation in your voice as you bring up your sister.

Did. He catches that, unable to miss the use of past tense. Feeling like he’s already pried from you, he nods. “Well, you’re a natural. Plus, he likes you,” Din says, offering some sort of comfort and shifting the focus of the conversation.

Grogu chirps from below the both of you, making you smile. You boop his nose, making him laugh. “I like him too. We’re best friends now, aren’t we, baby?” You ask him, tickling his sides as Grogu’s laughter grows louder. “Better watch out, Mando. I think I’ve taken the throne as his favorite,” you say through your giggles. Din watches from behind his helmet as you cradle Grogu, his heart taking flight at the sight in front of him.

“I don’t doubt that, cyar’ika.”

“So… can I ask what brings you into town, besides clothes for Grogu?” You ask, marking measurements on the selected fabric.

“Uh, yes, uh, we’re actually also here to gather some things for a fence I’m building. I’ve got a pond in front of our house and Grogu keeps torturing the frogs. I also don’t want him falling in, so I’m buying the last of the supplies to block it off.”

Your heart softens at the mandalorian’s concern. Going above and beyond for his son.

“Those poor frogs,” you giggle at the thought of Grogu messing with them. “Yeah, if he keeps eating them, he’s going to turn into one,” he huffs. Grogu snaps his head up, garbling what seems like a question.

“Have you started building the fence yet?” You through a fit of laughter.

“I have not, I’ve been occupied with some last minute tasks High Magistrate Karga asked me to complete. But I plan to start soon, possibly within the next week.”

You hum as silence settles amongst you three. A thought pops into your head, recounting the time you spent helping your father around the moisture farm back home on Tatooine as a young girl. Building and repairing fences and traps with your brother around the farm, your father adamant on ridding your home of womp rats.

Without even thinking about your next words, they eagerly roll off your tongue. Not sure why you’d go so far to extend a helping hand, but not questioning yourself either.

“Would you like some help?” Mando tilts his head to the side. “W-with the fence! That is,” you say, trailing off at the end. “Oh, that’s quite alright, cyar’ika. It’s a lot of work, and I couldn’t ask another task of you.”

“It’d be no problem! I’m more than happy to help, if you’ll let me.”

You’ve never been so eager to do farm work in your life. Surely, your father would laugh at your enthusiasm.

“Cyar’ika, you’re very kind, but I’d be indebted to you should you help me. In fact, I already am with the garments you’re crafting for Grogu.” You playfully roll your eyes

“Again with the formalities. You aren’t indebted to me, Mando! This is my job. Helping would be considered a favor, helping out a friend.”

“Friend.” Mando states. 

“Yeah. Isn’t that what you call me? ‘Cya-cy-cyar’,” you stumble through the pronunciation. Mando barks out a hearty laugh, sending a flurry of butterflies swarming in your belly.

“Yes, we are friends, cyar’ika. You can just call me ‘Mando’ or ‘friend.’ We’ll work on your pronunciation later, don’t want you hurting yourself now,” he teases. Your scrunch your face up, mouth gaped open. “Wow! How rude of you, Mando! Give a lady some grace, why don’t you?!” You squeak, unable to contain the surprise in your voice as a huge smile breaks out onto your face, taken aback by his sudden playfulness.

“I’m sorry, cyar’ika. How can I re-earn your good graces?” A smile evident in his voice.

Your face feels like it’s going to fall off if you keep smiling.

“For starters, you can tell me what that word really means. I’m only fluent in Basic and Jawaese,” you say with a wink, trying to make him feel equally as flustered.

“Jawaese? Are you not native to Nevarro?”

You shake your head as you measure Grogu once more, jotting down his measurements, playfully booping his nose to keep him entertained. “I am not. Tatooine was my home, it’s where I was born and where I grew up.”

He nods, carefully catching a wobbling Grogu. “So what brought you here?” You smirk. “I could ask you the same, Mando… if that is your real name,” you tease. The mandalorian chuckles under his helmet.

Oh what you’d give to see his smile.

“Maybe I’ll tell you… should you ever choose to tell me your given name,” you tease.

“Fair enough. I’ll tell you everything one day, cyar’ika.”

One day. Is he possibly considering telling you his name?

“One day,” you repeat. Your gaze never leaves his, staring into the blacked-out T in his helmet, hoping he can see the desire in your eyes. The silence is broken with the clearing of Mando’s throat. 

“I plan on starting next week. Does that work for you, cyar’ika?” 

You nod a little too eagerly, automatically agreeing despite not having checked your deadline schedules for other commissions. “It does! I’ll even bring over Grogu’s new tunics next week, they’ll be ready by then,” you excitedly say, folding the paper containing Grogu’s measurements and tucking it into your apron. Tucking your pencil behind your ear, you fold the fabrics up and carefully place them back in the box.

Grogu picks one up and hands it to you, melting your heart. You graciously pout, cooing at him. “Thank you, baby!” You squeal, gently caressing his cheek. He nuzzles into your touch.

He’s got you wrapped around his little green finger.

A pang of disappointment hits your heart, your time with the clan coming to a close.

You sigh as you tuck the box of fabric under one of the tables behind you. Silence hangs in the air, fiddling with your apron as you’re unable to say goodbye.

“Well… I guess we’ll be seeing you next week, cyar’ika?” Mando says, making you perk up at the sound of his voice. “Yes, yes you will, Mando.” You can’t help but smile at the thought of spending time with the duo.

“Good. I can’t wait, mesh’la,” he says quietly. Your brows reach your hairline at the new nickname. “Okay, now what does that one mean, Mando? You better not be insulting me!” You exclaim, poking fun at him, but genuinely curious as to what he’s saying.

“I would never, cyar’ika! Like I said, I’ll tell you one day,” he assures you. You sarcastically hum, reaching for something else in your pocket and hand Grogu yet another piece of candy.

“Here you go, little man. Thank you for being so good today, baby!” You tell him, helping him unwrap the lollipop as he squeals with excitement. He incoherently babbles as you discard the wrapper.

“None for daddy though, he’s being a meanie,” you pretend to whisper to Grogu. Your head snaps up at the sound of a groan.

“You alright, Mando?” You ask, brows pinched together. “Y-yeah, cyar’ika. I’m fine. J-just s-sometimes… this… helmet gives me, uh, a headache. I’m fine though,” he stammers. Your worry not quite dissolving. 

“I’m sorry, Mando. Would you like some medicine? I think I might have some inside,” you worriedly ramble. He waves you off. “It’s alright, cyar’ika. I promise. Th-thank you for all your help today, truly,” he nervously says. Taking his word, you nod.

“Well, I’m here if you ever need anything. And of course, it was my pleasure,” you say as you extend your hand to him, smiling as you do so. He quickly glances down to your hand, his large gloved hand fully encasing yours, his thick fingers brushing against yours in the process. He gently shakes your hand, giving it a soft squeeze in between, flashing him a gentle smile.

Is he smiling under there? You hope so.

“See you next week, cyar’ika,” he says, his hand still in yours. “I’ll see you both next week, Mando,” you say breathlessly. He sets your hand down, but doesn’t let go. You can sense his hesitation, but what could he be hesitating about?

“Have a lovely day… mesh’la,” he rasps with a tender, but swift swirl of his thumb on your hand. Sparks of electricity bolt throughout your body, your hand feeling as if it’s ablaze. He quickly drops your hand, gathering Grogu in his arms and settling him in his pram.

“Thank you. You too, Mando,” you nearly whisper, still relishing in the lingering feeling of his hand in yours. “Bye, cyar’ika,” he says with a wave, Grogu mirroring his father’s actions. “Bye, Mando. Bye, Grogu!” You say, returning the wave to the father-son duo. They part from your stall.

There’s a few customers browsing around your stall, but you hardly notice them as your mind swirls from what just happened between you and Mando.

What was that?

A customer comes up to you to ask a question. You shake the thoughts from your head and go about the work day. Anticipation blooms within you as the day drags on.

Next week can’t come fast enough.

we've finally been introduced to our reader (or as Din likes to call you, 'Cyari'ka' hehehe) and now the plot has been set up for some major pining! we've even caught a glimpse of backstory for reader!

i truly hope your suspension of disbelief allows you to picture yourself when reading this, because i like to picture myself while writing! Din wants reader aka you! 🫶🏼

anyway, thank you so much for reading! i'd love to know your thoughts in the comments, my asks, or dms 🩷

tag list: @javierpena-inatacvest @gracieheartspedro @undrthelights @tinygarbage @bastardmandennis @party-hearses @nostalxgic @mandoisapunk @pedrostories @anoverwhelmingdin @diguise7 @survivingandenduring @missladym1981 @stilllivindue2spite @dindjarinsmut @coquettegingette @firstofficerwiggles @christinamadsen @leithatnight

if your name is crossed out, it means i couldn't tag you ):

[penvisions]

in search of honor {series teaser}

Fandom: The Mandalorian / Alien VS Predator Crossover

Pairing: Younger! Din Djarin x Sacrifice! Reader

Summary: As Din prepares for the ritual of swearing the Creed, he contemplates his past and the future he wants to achieve. On another planet, the one his people are headed to, you are told of your role in the hunt to take place. In the pyramid that everyone knows means death for those that visit. A sacrifice to be made for the Mandalorian's to perform their ritual.

A/N: this is the first tentative writing i've done for the idea that i shared over here. it's just a silly little thing helping me destress from everything going on. no warnings, because i don't have any big ones outlined yet. essentially this is mando'a culture, but the creed is the hunt that takes place for the predators in the alien franchise to prove themselves, fighting aliens and all that fun stuff!

O'r echoy par ijaat.

In search of honor.

It echoes in his head as he stares at the helmet handed to him from the armorer. He's had it in his possession for nearly ten years now, to be worn at all times. never to be removed. not unless it was around his family, his partner, his children. All of which he doesn't have, having been adopted into the culture he is now devoted to. He had been raised by them, taken in when he had nothing. It's finally his turn to earn the title of Mandalorian, after years of training, of sparring, and learning the weapons praised for protection and defense. It's his turn to prove his worth and earn his signet. If he survives the trial, the hunt, devoted himself to the ritual and solidify himself as a true member of the people who had given him everything he could ever remember. Then he would have achieved what they anticipated of him, proved himself.

The weight of his armor had been heavy like his thoughts when he first dressed in them, the heavy padding beneath it adding even more to his then small frame, just a boy. He had barely been seven when he had first been given it, each year it increased in weight as more of the precious beskar was needed to decorate his growing body. But it's something he's gotten accustomed to. He now feels it's absence when he readies for sleep each night and before he dons it each morning. feels the loss of it when he's bathing and eating alone in his room. He's hopeful the thoughts become less so just as the beskar had. A comfort rather than a daunting new reality.

He wants to survive; he wants to earn his place. He only hopes he's strong enough.

It’s not a death sentence, it’s an honor.

And it’s now on his shoulders and the only path he sees to follow.

You're in disbelief. The summons that called you has you standing beside six other eldest children of the most renown families of the city, two other girls and four boys. All varying ages, the youngest is a boy, not even ten. The first child of the family you know heads the cultivation of food for the city. He's openly crying, though his father and your own ignore the shine of the tears on his still chubby cheeks.

It's an honor, a way to serve your family, your community. The sentiment is repeated over and over, in the face of each of you as you're dismissed. The day is tomorrow, has been marked for nearly as long as you've been alive. The pyramid in the middle of the desert an entire night's travel away, even on the fastest ship. In the midst of the never-ending desert that surrounds your city, the only on the planet. To ensure should anything go awry or the hunt go wrong, there was no risk for it to get to the population.

It will become your tomb as you heed the commands of your culture and family, as you lay still and allow for an alien creature to attach itself to you, to use you as a host for the chosen species the Mandalorian’s have honed over centuries and use in their own ritual. A way to prove that their training and fighting is either the best or to see the flaws in which they could improve them in order to continue to develop some of the strongest warriors in the galaxy.

It's a cruel cycle, that you must give your live for another to gain meaning and status in their own. you loathed the life you were born into, the injustice of it. the inability to have control over your own autonomy, raised like cattle and given without argument to further another's notion of honor.

An honor and a way to show your devotion to those that made it all possible for your way of life to flourish and thrive.

A sacrifice you should be happy to play a part in.

But it was death, that much you were certain of. Even as they dress you in the most extravagant fabrics you've ever felt against your skin. Soft silt, plush pelts, heavy jewelry. It was too much to handle, the meaning behind it all, the reason for it all.

It’s not an honor it’s a death sentence.

A weight on your shoulders, but you’d be damned if it’s the only path for you to take.

taglist: @beefrobeefcal @clawdee @hellfire-state-of-mind @tuquoquebrute

@sawymredfox @kiwisbell @morallyinept @itsokbbygrl @sp00kymulderr

@jessthebaker @hiddenbabynyc @littlemisspascal @mosssbawls

[happy-beeeps]

To Build a Home

WC: 4.2k

Pairing: din x reader

Synopsis: You’re on the hunt to make this house on Nevarro a home, but you’re wrestling with feelings of inadequacy in you and Din’s relationship after he adopts Grogu but doesn’t take you as his riduur. Fluffy, emotional hurt comfort, domesticity, slice of life, Din is a fisherman for 30 seconds.

Warnings: none really! Vaguely ooc Din but I think I got it back. Ever since that one episode of The Bad Batch I’ve just been dying to send Din fishing

A/N: HAPPY MAY THE 4TH!!!!

Fun fact, when I started this blog three years ago it was because the Mandalorian had just come out and people had only just started writing Din fic. I was in the trenches with the other mando fic pioneers. Technically this is the same reader as my first ever longfic “I don’t do droids” which I’ve semi abandoned BUT I do plan on making a better spin off version soon! It's not at all necessary to read that to understand the reader’s backstory though!

* * *

You’ve been to markets before. The familiar fast paced environment had always been something of a vice to you when you traveled with Din, the reprieve from being crammed on the crest or a short expedition for something to snack on. Once or twice Din himself had even accompanied you, with the baby wrapped around your chest in a bundle of fabric, his hand interlaced with yours. Now, though, you’re alone for what feels like the first time in years. You’re wandering through the market at a speed so slow it’s almost comical, taking time to touch, to see, to hear.

It’s exhilarating.

Nevarro has grown since you had first been here, and you can’t say it’s been particularly easy for you to return, to immerse yourself in a system that’s caused you so much pain. There are nights you find yourself thrashing at the sheets at the image of Din’s body crumpling under fire as the rest of you were forced down through the halls of the covert, or the ice that filled your veins when you realized your son had been taken. That Nevarro is gone, however, up in ash like the volcanos that dot the landscape of this system. You have a home here, a real house, and you’re determined to make it into something to rid both you and Din of your nightmares.

You left Din and Grogu at the house and took the small speeder he had been restoring for you back to the city center, parking it just outside the bustling square, ready to go if need be. Old habits die hard, you guess. The city itself now brims with life, families duck in and out of each other as they weave through the streets, droids pull carts of fresh produce. It’s all very exciting, very reassuring. 

“Lady Djarin!” A booming voice calls, one that stops the people nearest to you as they part ways to make space for the figure coming through. Greef Karga walks through the parted crowd, offering handshakes and smiles to those he walks past, before coming to stop at you and extending his arm. “Going shopping?”

You blush slightly at the moniker, Din had been clear that you had been made part of his clan and while you were by no means married, you appreciate the sentiment. “You know if I let Din make decisions on the house it’d stay as barren as the day we moved in.”

“I don’t doubt that,” he chuckles, escorting you through the streets and alleys. It really is beautiful here, with overflowing greenery practically spilling out of the windows of the residents, flowers of numerous bright colors dotting shopfronts and the hair of those who walk past you. “Have you been to our markets before?”

You glance at him and quirk up an eyebrow.  “Have I ever had much time for shopping when we’ve been on system?”

“You’ve got a fair point.” He leads you farther, until you approach a colorful alley with storefronts boasting fruits, silks, and small goods that stretches farther than you can see. “I recommend the flowers from the Togruta woman halfway down, if you were to pick some up,” and pats your hand before leaving you to your own devices. He knows you well enough at this point to know that you aren’t unable to defend yourself, and that you do occasionally appreciate the rare moments you get away from father and baby.

It’s not that you don’t love them both dearly, you do, so much so that you keenly remember the feeling of bringing a vibroblade up to the chest of Moff Gideon before you were quickly thrown aside. You’ve got the scars to prove it. You adore them. You also needed a moment of peace, to think and feel and make a home out of the house you were so graciously gifted. Besides, you can’t help but feel a little lost in your place in life now, as the dust has settled. Din had clearly adopted Grogu as his son, a fact you really couldn’t be happier about, but where did you land? You had waited with baited breath for him to ask the Armorer to add you to their song, but he hadn’t. Instead the three of you left soon afterwards, planning to meet up at Nevarro after he went to talk to an old friend with the New Republic. You had grown to resent his little two seater N-1, much preferring the space of your trusty fighter.

You walk down the alley, stopping to feel the fabrics and scarves that line the booths. One stall boasts brightly colored blankets, and you rustle through the soft blankets before you find a warm cream color dotted with tiny, multi-colored, embroidered flowers.You hand the shopkeeper the credits, and continue to walk down the street, doing your very best attempt to not buy everything you touch, though you aren’t sure you’ll succeed.

“Fruits! Fresh fruits here!”

“Instruments for the finest songstress!”

“Silks and scarves, keep warm when the sun sets!”

“A treasure for the finest student, primers for language!”

It’s this last seller that stops you in your tracks, reminding you of the reason you first met Din anyways. Sure, your role had grown now, twisted into something beautiful and pure, but aside from being lover, mother, confidant, and pilot, you were at your core, his translator. 

“What languages do you offer?” You say, walking into the old man’s small storefront. It’s cool inside, with walls painted a deep blue with light blue outlines of nearby star systems, like a map projected. He’s got datapads and even a few books of flimsi strewn around, tucked into cupboards, as well as collectibles from systems you could only dream of visiting. 

“What language do you need?” He grins, pulling out a datapad from his pocket and opening a menu that seems to scroll for years. “I offer most standard tongues, as well as a few more useful in the outer rim. You strike me as someone who’s looking for something a bit more unique.”

“I’m a translator by trade,” you say, scrolling through the offerings until you find something that stops you. “Standard is my craft.”

“A scholar then,” he pauses, and takes the datapad away from you. “When was the last time you learned a language for yourself?”

“I learned Kaleesh when I was younger,” you shrug, and the shopkeeper laughs.

“What does a woman like you need a war-tongue for?” “All the best people in my life are fighters.”

“Perhaps the language of a friend then, a spouse?” he offers, and you stop in your aimless wandering around the shop. Of course, how could you have been so stupid.

“I’ll take one basic primer, for a child, and anything you’ve got on Mando’a.”

Your arms are beginning to tire from the amount of things you’ve picked up: you’ve got toys for Grogu, fruits and vegetables, some meat for dinner, the blanket, your downloads, a few silks to hang for drapery, seeds, and a rug that’s set to be delivered in a rotation. You’re about to turn back, content with the amount of credits you’ve ran through in a day when you notice her, the Togruta woman and her flower stand. She’s inarguably stunning, with wide eyes and lekkuu that stretch down her chest, her markings intricate and carved down her face in an eye-catching way. 

“Hi,” you begin as you walk up to her, she’s pruning a bright orange flower now, and she glances up from her work to offer you a smile. “Your flowers come highly recommended by magistrate Karga.”

She scoffs and sets her flower down, offering you a worn hand to shake. “I’m Obesha.” She gestures to the blooms bursting from her cart. “What are you looking for?”

“Well, I’m relatively new in town, me and my,” you struggle to find the word. Din isn’t your spouse, but he’s more than your boyfriend. Frankly, lover feels a little too intimate for this woman you just met. “Companion and our child just settled outside town and I’m looking for something to brighten up our home.”

Obesha grins, before plucking a variety of blue, yellow, and white flowers carefully, tucking in pieces of greenery amongst them. “Turning a house into a home is one of the most challenging, yet rewarding things a being can do.” She gingerly plucks at the leaves, pruning it to perfection, before wrapping the bouquet up in a light gray cloth, which for some unbeknownst reason feels softer than anything you’ve felt before.

“What is this?”

She hums and turns back into her shop, coming out with a larger swatch of fabric, this one decorated with finely worked sheer lace, dyed the same blue-gray as the fabric on the outside of the bouquet. “It’s custom in my village to wear these for special occasions,” she pulls the wrap up to model it on herself, and you’re struck by the way the light filters through the lace. “It’s deceivingly warm and very beautiful.” She folds it up into a small square before handing it to you, “consider it a housewarming gift.”

Your mouth falls open as you struggle to reach into your bag for the credits. “Please, let me pay you, I have the money.”

She extends a hand forward to hush you, then gestures back down the alley. “Pay me back by letting me know what your family thinks of my arrangement.”

* * *

You’re distracted your whole ride back, which you admit probably isn’t the best thing for you to be as you navigate the desert. It’s not a particularly long ride to your home, which you’re grateful for, and you smile as the familiar form of the ships parked outside the small cabin beacon you in. Din and Grogu must not be home, considering he usually rushes to you to take anything you’re carrying and you can typically hear Grogu’s coos before you see him. It isn’t a surprise then, when you walk in to find the house empty, and notice the small message flashing on the datapad he’s left behind.

Gone fishing just down the springs.-D

It’s a habit he’s picked up after the brief time the two of you spent apart, when Grogu went to live with the Jedi and Din went off on his own. He came back to you quickly, finding you easily while you worked as a translator on Tatooine, with the daimyo you and Din had gotten to know very well. He never left without a message again once he had you back, and you smile as you swipe the note away.

“Time to organize!” you clap to no one in particular, and begin setting things up around the home. You tuck the new blanket in along you and Din’s bed (a concept that still feels so foreign after the places you’ve been sleeping recently) and the toys on a shelf in the small room you’ve begun calling Grogu’s nursery. The rest is relatively simple, tucking fabrics along windows and placing fruits in the kitchen. You put the bouquet down in the middle of the small table, and are sure to add fresh water to the vase. It’s really coming together, you have to say. The cabin isn’t particularly large, the majority of the house consisting of one large room that works as kitchen, living, and sleeping space (which you’ve done your best to section off,) a small ‘fresher off towards the back, and the small room you and Din have given to Grogu. It’s perfect for your little clan of three, and you don’t find yourself wishing for more from the space, settling down on the couch and digging into the Mandalorian language pages on your datapad.

You aren’t sure how long has passed when your legs want for movement, and you set the datapad down and opt to go find your fishermen. It’s still blazingly hot on the surface, so you forgo the small shawl and walk towards the direction of the springs. You and Din had both dipped in them on your first night here before you realized the springs died off into a small, cooler pond a short walk away. There, Karga had explained, there was a thriving population of fish and other reptiles that were open for fishing. 

You spot them before they spot you, Din’s shiny helmet reflecting in your direction. It’s another thing that’s had your gut twisted in on itself. You’ve seen Din’s face, the day Grogu left you had seen it. In that moment you had fallen deeper in love than you realized even possible. You were absolutely supportive of him and frankly, you were elated he’d been able to be welcomed back into his covert, but you couldn’t help but feel like an absolutely terrible person for it. Honestly, you hadn’t expected this move to domesticity to churn up so many emotions for you, particularly when this is the thing you’ve basically been dreaming of since the two of you first kissed.

Now, he’s perched on a rock, pole in hand, while Grogu sits on his knee, eyes fixed on the pond. You walk up quietly behind him but years of experience have him turning his head to spot you walking. Grogu turns too, and you can swear he gurgles out something to the effect of “buir!” as he bounces up and down on his father’s knee. You move in to scooch beside Din, who happily makes room for you, as you run a hand down the side of his helmet.

“Hi,” you breathe, and his hand, not on the pole, moves to find your fingers.

“Hi.” He murmurs back, and you rest your head on his shoulder. 

“I got some things for the house,” you lean over to scratch Grogu’s ears, “Got some stuff for bug and some food for dinner.”

“Can I cook for you?”

Your cheeks bloom at the words, “Sure, I’ve never had your cooking.”

“Never really had the space to do it,” he shrugs, “but I do now.”

You settle into a comfortable silence after this, and he sets Grogu down to splash in the edge of the pond and rests the fishing pole on the side of the rock. With his hands free, he heaves you up onto his lap and slides his arms around your waist. “Did you get anything for yourself?”

“One or two things,” you wave a hand in the air, “got a language learner for Grogu, thought we could try and teach him basic.”

“Please, as if we need to give him more ways to say ‘No’” He groans, but you can tell from the shake of his shoulders that he’s laughing, and he pulls you in closer to his chest. “We haven’t caught anything all day.”

“Mmm… so he clearly doesn’t get his patience from his father.”

“No, he gets it from his mother.”

You look up at him with wide eyes. Sure, you know you’re his mother, but hearing those words, after the adoption, it floods you with a warmth that has you wishing you could just kiss him right now.

“Cyare,” he starts, his hand coming to rest on your cheek, but is disrupted by the sound of violent splashing. You both jump up just to see Grogu standing at the edge of the pond, fish in hand. 

“I guess only one of you had trouble today,” you nudged him playfully before going to scoop up the baby, while he dropped the fish in the pond.

It’s been dangerously quiet inside the house, and you’ve been relegated to sit out on the small bench on the front porch. You appreciate Din cooking but the simple fact that you aren’t entirely sure he knows how to cook slipped your mind when you agreed. Now, you try not to think about that fact, and dedicate yourself to the datapad in your lap. You’ve seen some familiar words, buir and cyare, even the diminutives Din calls you late at night, cyar’ika and mesh’la.  You’ve always wanted to pick up his mother tongue, and you want to kick yourself for not doing it sooner. Now, you’re devouring it, trying to learn it all. It’s a rich language, more complex than most you’ve learned. You’re so wrapped up in your reading that when Din opens the front door you jump, and he leans forward to grab your hand, guiding you out of the chair.

“I think it’s done?”

“You aren’t inspiring a lot of confidence here,” you laugh as you walk inside, sitting down at the table next to Grogu. Din brings over the pot and you peer in. He’s done what looks to be a solid job, the vegetables are chopped a little more rough than you could’ve done, and you can tell the meat is slightly overdone, but considering it comes from him, you spoon it onto your plate like it’s the most delicious thing you’ve ever eaten. You pour some out in front of Grogu and you feel Din’s eyes practically burn holes in your head.

“Yes?”

“I want to know if you like it.” He’s so quiet, the voice sounding almost shy. You reach over and place a hand atop his. 

“There isn’t a universe where you make something I don’t love.”

You both begin eating in silence, (his use of seasoning is surprisingly impeccable, and the meat is only a touch rough) when he starts up again. “The flowers are a nice touch, and the drapes.”

“Thank you,” you blush. “I just wanted to warm it up here.”

“Maker knows I don’t know what I’m doing, we’re lucky to have you.” He reaches over and taps you on the chin before turning his attention to Grogu, running a rag on the table across his mouth as he manages to smear every bite of food across his face.

After dinner, the two of you work to clean the kitchen while Grogu plays with one of the new toys you brought for him in the living room. You and Din are chatting, about nothing, about everything, when the warmth of the moment hits you, and you lean your head on his shoulder. He’s since dressed down to just his helmet, and you can feel the warmth of his skin radiate beneath his shirt. “This is nice.”

“What, dishes?” he laughs, but you can feel his arm snake loosely around your hips as he sets the last plate down.

“Just, this” you gesture to the house, to the pile of dishes, to Grogu playing, “it’s nice to have a home.”

“I already had a home,” he pulls you in closer, you can smell the sweat of the day and his spiced aftershave from where your head falls on his chest. “When Grogu falls asleep, I want to take you somewhere.” He pushes his forehead on yours, before moving to sit on the floor with Grogu, leaving you standing in the kitchen, grinning like an idiot at the scene before you. This is your family, your clan. Husband or not, Din is the love of your life, you’ve lost him and the baby once and you don’t intend to do it again. You set down the cleaning rag and join the two of them on the floor, happy to oblige in whatever game Grogu is playing.

* * *

“Where’d you get that?” Din asks as he leads you down the rocky sides of the springs.

“The florist, it’s shockingly warm.” You pull the shawl tighter around your form and Din stops suddenly. You're back at the pond from earlier only now it looks different. There’s a small blanket strewn across the rock you had sat on earlier, and he scrambles to light a few assorted candles that litter the ground. Even the scenery appears to have changed, as tiny yellow lights dot the air.

“They’re actually tiny lifeforms,” he says, gesturing to the yellow dots, “Karga told me they come out at night over here.”

“It’s beautiful, how come we haven’t been here yet?”

“Just waiting for a good time to get you alone.” He pulls you closer to the rock and the two of you sit down, your back pressed to his chest as you watch the sky turn a deep purple color as the yellow lights dance in the sky. You sit like that in silence for a moment longer when his voice comes out, rumbling and warm. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, nothing’s wrong, why?” You sputter, and you want to smack yourself for how incriminating that sounds.

“You’re hiding it, and hiding it well. But something’s wrong,” his voice comes low to your ear now, still modulated and heavy but him. “What I don’t know is why you won’t tell me.”

“I’m… It’s really not a big deal.”

“Can I guess?”

“If you want.”

“Well,” he breathes in, like he’s holding his breath, “I commed Bo.”

You whip your head around at that. He must have been really concerned to enlist the help of one of your favorite Mandalorians.

“Oh? What did Bo say?” “That I’m a nerf herder.”

You snort at that and settle into his chest again. “Sounds like Bo.”

His hands come up to turn you towards him, and he pulls your legs so you're facing him, your legs wrapping around his waist. You’re close like this, if you leaned forward you could rest your forehead against his. “You doubt me, what I feel for you.”

“That’s not really the way I would put it,” you murmur, and he closes the gap for you, bringing his helmet to your head. “I just was worried… that I wasn’t a part of your clan. You’ve adopted Grogu, and that makes you his father. But I’m just-”

“His mother. Cyar’ika, I haven’t been fair with you.” His hands move to press small circles into your back. “I shouldn’t have let you feel doubt in me, in our clan. You are to Grogu as I am. You’re my-”

“Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum,” you breathe, and it’s your turn to cut him off, whispering the sweet words to him in the echo of the world. You can hear his breath hitch as he grabs you tighter. “I’ve been practicing all day.”

“You don’t need to speak my language to be a part of me. You already have been for longer than I can say,” he murmurs, and his hand goes to the back of your head. “Gar solus ner aliit, gar solus but buir.”

It takes you a moment to catch up with the translations, the sweet words he’s whispering, and Din uses this moment of thinking to bring both his hands up to his helmet, disengage the locking mechanism, and pull it off, resting it on the rock beside him.

“Din!” you shout, and smack your hands over your eyes, but he’s faster than you and catches your wrists in your hands. 

“Look at me mesh’la.” And you do, you drink him in with everything you have, bringing your hands to trace his lips, his nose, eyes refusing to leave his. “I finally have something to offer you.” He whispers, his lips so close to your ear that you swear you’ve died. That must be the case. You’ve simply ascended into the great beyond. “I didn’t add you to the song on Mandalore because I wanted to have something to give you, something to promise you forever.”

You look past his shoulder to the silhouette of the cabin. “Our house.”

“Our home.” He holds your cheeks in his hands, and you can tell he’s been as starved of this as you have. “You’ve made it a home.”

His lips are on yours in an instant, and you’re devouring him like you’ve been starved. Sure, you’ve kissed him since he put his helmet back on, but the weight of all of this, of his helmet being gone, of you seeing him again, it’s like the first time all over again.

“Din, your creed.” You murmur between kisses.

“Save me the trip back to Mandalore and marry me then.”

You pull back, searching his eyes for any joke, and you want to cry when there isn’t one.

“I told you, when I had something to offer you.”

You’re laughing and crying now as he fiddles with the lace hem of your shawl before delicately draping it across your head. “My riduur.”

Even with your expert knowledge of linguistics, the vows are clunky and foreign in your mouth, but with Din smiling at you, you have no complaints. He scoops you and his helmet up almost immediately, walking you back into the cabin and tossing you onto the bed. He breaks from your gaze for just a minute to go into the nursery and emerges with a sleepy-eyed Grogu.

“Hi baby,” you croon as Din places him on the bed and he waddles towards you.

“He loves his buir” Din whispers as he falls into bed beside you. The little green cover stealer is quick to settle between you and his dad, his hands reaching out to press on both of your foreheads. You look over at Din, whose eyes are once again finding yours.

“Welcome home.” He whispers.

You mean to tell him that you love him, that you’re happy to be married to him, but sleep 

finds you first. Not that it matters. 

He already knows.

[floatyflowers]

Dark Platonic! Din Djarin x Reader

You are a young child that got kidnapped by pirates.

Din was on a task and saved you along the way.

The moment you saw Grogu, you picked him up and twirled him around happily.

"Baby!" you exclaim happily, hugging the small creature who doesn't seem to mind.

Din would only stare as you interact with Grogu.

At that moment, he felt the urgent need to protect you, and that's exactly what he did, he decided to adopt you as his own.

however, there is one problem...

"When are you going to take me back to my family, sir?" You ask him one day, as you feed Grogu, one of the biscuits that you always keep with you.

...How is he going to convince you to stay with him and convince you that he took you in as his own.

"When the right time comes, little one" you only give him an innocent smile.

However, that time turned into months, and Din's obsession with you grew.

Even Grogu could sense it.

Due to your young age, you began to forget about your family, and consider the Mandalorian and Grogu your new family after Din manipulated you into believing so.

Little do you know, that Din found your family and slaughtered them.

After all, no parents who neglect their child deserve to live.

Just like Grogu, you can use force, but Din has forbidden you from using it, believing that you might end up leaving him to get the proper training.

Realizing what is happening the moment you reach adulthood.

You succeed in escaping after many failed attempts It was indeed a happy moment for you to finally have your freedom.

However, for your bad luck, you end up in meeting a person more possessive than Din.

You end up meeting... Kylo Ren

[buckyplsmarryme]

Home

Din Djarin x female reader

One shot takes place during season 2 ep.6

Right after the razor crest is destroyed, Din thinks he loses you during the chaos.

Warnings: some angst, but leads to happy ending. Din being a little dramatic but we love him, he talks of running into fire. Fear of loss/ panic

Helmet comes offfff<3

When Moff Gideon’s cruiser fired at his ship he felt a pang in his heart that he was not expecting, after all he had grown accustomed to temporary things. He knew too well that nothing lasted forever.

The crest was different. Din had brought Grogu onto his ship, he had brought you onto his ship. Memories of the past year with his adopted son came flooding in. Grogu’s beloved toys, pictures he had drawn, his blankets. Everything gone in an instant.

You lit up the small ship with your laughter, your passion, and your love you gave out to him and Grogu freely. Qualities that he was not used to, but quickly became what made him fall deeply in love with you.

As soon as the two of you came into his life the razor crest exuded warmth and home. Feelings that he had not felt since his childhood.

When he first came to owning his ship, he cursed under his breath upon seeing it, it was a piece of work that needed constant maintenance and skill to fix.

When he took in Grogu, his time and patience was wearing thin. He could no longer put all of his focus into what needed to be done to keep the ship from breaking down. And as masterful he was in almost all areas, he was no mechanic.

This is what led him to you.

Seeing unfamiliar flashing lights come on all across his ship, he had no choice but go to Tatoonine and seek Peli and her overpriced repair shop.

He was greeted however not by Peli, but by the most angelic creature he had ever seen. You had begun working at Peli’s shop since the last time he had been and he was instantly drawn to you.

After your first meeting, Din started to go to Peli’s for just about any and every problem he encountered with the Crest. Where he once was too stubborn to go, determined he could fix anything himself he now leapt at any chance to go to the shop, just in hopes of talking to you.

He could not stay away, and you yearned for him when he was gone. From the start you felt instantly connected to him and his little green son.

You quickly grew to love him. Peli made fun of the way you would longingly stare at him when he departed, and anxiously awaited his next visit.

You loved how he loved Grogu. You were in awe of how someone who seemed so intimidating, was the most gentle and caring man you’d ever come to know.

He told you things he could never imagine telling anyone else. He opened up to you completely. He told you about his parents, and how he came to be a mandalorian. He took careful time in explaining his creed, and although you longed to see his face, you understood and respected him completely. You loved him regardless even if you never see under his helmet.

You told him your past, all about your family, and how you wished to leave your planet because there was holding you to it any longer.

Within months, Din asked you to join him. He stated he had buisness to reunite Grogu with his kind and get him away from those who threatened him. He stated that he would miss you terribly when he went away and offered you a position to help him with his ship and Grogu.

Of course you jumped to go with him and the months you spent with him on his ship have been the happiest of your life.

You truly had a family and a sense of belonging with him and Grogu. He had changed your life completely.

You awoke a feeling in Din that he could not describe. All he knows is that you fixed him in all ways possible. You made him a better person, a better father to Grogu. You made his life more meaningful, you gave him the strength he needed to make it back after every bounty just so he could see your face and know you are safe.

You.

Where were you?

As he watched his ship burn, he looked around, he had not seen you in an hour or so before the attack.

He had been out with Grogu in search of contacting the Jedi as he had been instructed to do.

Had you gotten back on the ship?

“Meshla please listen to me” he had pleaded just hours before with you.

“If Gideon finds us, promise me you will get yourself to safety” he held her face as she said “I will Din, I promise”

Had he sent her to her death? Din became frantic. He started sprinting towards their burning home to see if what he feared more than anything had occurred.

“No please no” Din kept muttering as he was searching and praying.

He began hyperventilating, of course you would go back to the ship if you saw the danger above. That is exactly what you had promised him many times you would do in this situation.

When he realized there was no way of entering the ship without being consumed by the fire himself he fell to his knees.

He could feel the aggressive heat of the flames roaring onto his skin where his beskar did not cover. However he did not care, and if it were not for abandoning his son he would run into the flames himself.

A life without you had no meaning. How did he go so long without you? He had never felt this agony before, not even when he lost his parents so long ago.

What would he do? All his hopeless and devastating thoughts were burning in his head as he cried until suddenly he heard a voice.

“Din” your soft voice broke him out of his despair.

He felt arms wrap aound his body as you squeezed him into you.

He cannot stop crying, and you try your best to comfort him. He pins you down and cries on you for what feels like hours.

“Cyare I thought you were gone” he cried into your neck.

“Im sorry Din, I didn’t mean to scare you” you whispered softly.

“I was up the hill looking for you and Grogu when I heard the explosion, I’m so sorry it took me so long to get back to you” you explained.

You had never seen or heard him sound so broken before. And in your state of worry you hardly processed him pulling away from you and throwing his helmet to the ground.

You gasped as you saw beautiful curls and deep brown eyes before his lips were on yours.

Din had no ship to call home, and now no creed to cling on to but he no longer cared.

He had you. And he wanted none of himself hidden any longer. Nothing else will ever matter to him more.

He knows that him and his precious family will always be okay as long as they have each other.

“I love you so much meshla” he tells you as he pulls away.

“I love you Din, always”

-this is my first time writing on tumblr, thank you for reading:))

Translations:

Cyare: beloved, loved, popular

Meshla: beautiful

[vodika-vibes]

Can you write a cute piece with Jaster where he comes back from a long mission and finds the reader and Jango asleep together in his bed waiting for him? Maybe turns a little smutty at the end?

The Mand'alor's Aliit

Summary: Jaster's been gone for weeks, and now that he's back, some hard truths have come to light.

Pairing: Jaster Mereel x F!Reader

Word Count: 1714

Warnings: Reader was physically assaulted, Jaster's temper

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni

A/N: I know you said you wanted a little smutty, and I'm sorry that this didn't turn out that way. I had a story that needed to be written, and smut just didn't make sense with what I had. Please feel free to send another request that I'll do better on next time.

When you agreed to go on a date with Jaster, it was well before he was elected Mand’alor. Sure, you’ve always known that your ambitious man wanted more for his people, but the title Mand’alor wasn’t something that he specifically vied for.

And then he was elected, and things became a lot more complicated.

The Mandalorians didn’t like you. They didn’t like you when you were just some upstart who managed to catch the attention of Jaster, and they definitely didn’t like that Jaster went to you for advice when he became Mand’alor.

However, no one pushed anything because you’re not Jaster’s Riduur. So far as they’re aware, the relationship is pretty shallow.

So when Jaster comes home with a recently orphaned 8 year old, announcing that he adopted young Jango, and then when you quietly adopted Jango as well, people suddenly started paying attention.

And that’s when the missions started. Long term missions, taking Jaster away from you, and Jango, for weeks at a time. Maybe they thought that sending him away would drive a wedge between the pair of you, but they couldn’t be more wrong if they tried.

“I miss buir,” Jango mumbles miserably as he buries himself against your side, “And I hate the other Mandalorians.” He adds, sounding even more miserable when he sees you wince in pain when you move to embrace him.

“I know you do, kiddo. I miss him too.” You smooth your hand through his curly hair. Today had been especially bad in terms of everything. Normally the people who stood opposed to you wouldn’t dare lay a hand on you.

But they had been drinking, and they forgot themselves, and yeah, you won that fight, even though it was four on one, but you still have a cracked rib and pretty severe bruising to show for it.

Worse than that is the fact that Jango witnessed the whole thing. Which means he’s about three times as clingy as he would normally be. And you tolerate it because he’s your kid and you love him. You love him enough to allow him to crawl into your bed, and cling to you while you soothe him to sleep.

You’re not really surprised when you drift off to sleep as well.

It’s several hours later when you stir awake at the sensation of Jango getting pulled away from you. And while normally your reaction would be to shoot first and ask questions never, a warm hand on your shoulder and Jaster’s voice in your ear, encouraged you to not shoot him. 

You watch, half asleep, as Jaster carries Jango out of the room. And then you sit up, and you carefully stretch. Sleeping the way you were did nothing to help the pain in your side…you should have known better.

The door slides open again, and Jaster steps into the room, “Cyare,” His voice is low, exhausted, but he sounds thrilled to see you, “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

The lights are still off, but there’s enough light for you to watch him remove his armor. And you smile as you cross your legs, “Welcome back,” You say first, “You’re lucky I didn’t shoot you when I felt you pulling Jango away.” You add easily.

His fingers pause on the seal of his thigh plates and he groans low in his throat, “That’s probably the hottest thing I’ve ever heard you say.”

You laugh softly, “I think you’re overtired if you think my threatening to shoot you is hot.”

Jaster laughs, and resumes removing his armor. He sets the whole set to the side to be dealt with later, and then he peels his bodysuit off and tosses it into the laundry. And only then does he climb into bed.

He lays on his pillow for a moment, and you watch him relax into the soft mattress with a fond smile on your face. 

And then he rolls over and crashes his lips against yours. “Missed you,” He rumbles against your lips, “Hate those long missions.”

“Missed you more,” You reply as you kiss him quickly.

Jaster pins both of your wrists over your head with one hand, and he releases a quiet laugh, “I don’t think that’s possible, cyare.” He kisses you deeply, and then moves his lips to your neck, “Missed you like a missing limb.” He slides his hand under your sleep shirt, and drags his hand up your side.

His fingers trail over your ribs, and a sharp hiss escapes you without your permission.

And Jaster freezes. He carefully presses his hand over the painful spot on your side, and then he releases your wrists and reaches over to turn on the lamp.

You squint at the sudden light, and Jaster’s fingers are very gentle as he slides your shirt up and over your head. His gaze is sharp as he takes in the red bruises covering a large portion of your body. He brushes his fingers over the swollen and split knuckles on both of your hands. And then he presses his hand flat over your cracked rib.

“Is it broken?” His voice is very, very even. And you know that he’s furious.

“Cracked.” You reply as you settle back on your pillow.

“So yes.”

“We both know that a crack and a break are totally different.” You point out with a sigh, as you trail a single finger over his arm.

“What happened, cyare?” Jaster asks, his gaze falling to your forearms, “These look like self-defense bruises.”

You sigh, “You’re not wrong.”

His eyes go cold, “Someone attacked you.” It’s not a question.

“You know as well as I do that there are some factions within the Haat who don’t approve of me…or Jango.”

Somehow, his eyes go colder, “I didn’t see any marks on Jango.”

You scoff, “I know I can’t hold my own against you, Jas, but if they even considered touching Jango, we’d be having a very different conversation. Very likely from the safety of my ship, in orbit.”

It’s the truth. If you thought, for a moment, that Jango was in danger on Mandalore, you’d take him and leave. And you both know it.

“Who hurt you?”

“They’re in the hospital.” You reply.

“Cyare-”

“Jaster.” He stops and regards you thoughtfully, “They’re in the hospital. You can’t do anything about it now.”

He inhales deeply, “Has anyone done this before?”

“I can handle a few pointed barbs, Jaster.”

His jaw clenches, “Why do they hate you so much?” He hisses, fury writ in every line of his body.

“Because I’m an outsider, and was barely good enough when you were just a son of Clan Mereel.” You reach up and lightly caress his cheek, “They thought I was your whore, and then we adopted a child together, and proved that I’m more than that.”

“They call you that? To your face?”

“Not when you’re around.” You sigh and tug him down so you’re able to kiss him, “Breathe, love.”

“They hate you that much?” Jaster asks.

“‘Fraid so.” Your smile is wry, “They want you to marry some proper Mando, raise an army of little mando children, and I’m not an acceptable choice.”

“That’s…that’s the dumbest kriffing-” He takes a deep breath, and then he cups your face, “You’re my choice. Always have been, from the first time I saw you-”

“I threw a rock at you and called you dumb.”

“You did, and fell in love at that very moment.” Jaster replies with a fond smile, “You are mine,” He murmurs, “And I am yours.”

You smile up at him, “I’m not about to let some small minded people scare me away from you, love.”

“Good,” Jaster kisses you solidly, and then pulls back, “Say the Riduurok with me.”

“What?”

“Right here. Right now. I have everything we might need for it.” His gaze is intense, “Become my wife, I’ll spend the rest of eternity making sure you’re happy, and no one will ever hurt you again.”

You stare at him, and then you smile, “Alright.”

He grins at you, and carefully climbs off of you.

“Should I put on some clothes?” You joke as you carefully sit up.

“Don’t worry about it.”

************

The following morning, while you’re fast asleep in your bed, coated in a thin layer of bacta to help you heal, with Jango cuddling against you watching cartoons, Jaster calls a meeting with the heads of the various clans.

He’s calm, very calm, dangerously calm. And apparently the men and women in the room can feel it, as they settle in their seats utterly silent.

“It has come to my attention,” Jaster starts slowly, not raising his voice, not having to raise his voice to be heard, “That there is a number among you who feels that my cyare is not good enough for Mandalore.”

Some of the people sitting around the table shift uncomfortably, and Jaster pins each of them with a dark, threatening, stare.

“It has also come to my attention that the verbal abuse turned physical yesterday.” At that there’s a hint of barely controlled rage in his voice, and more than one person flinched back. “Needless to say, not happy is understating how I’m feeling at the moment.”

He pauses, and no one says anything, so Jaster nods once, “So here are the cold, hard, facts. My cyare is now my Riduur. Any attack on her will be seen as an attack on me and my clan, and I will react accordingly.” He pulls his helmet back on, “Make sure that this information is passed out accordingly.”

There are general murmurs of assent, though one brave woman stands, “Mand’alor, I have to say that I think that the woman you chose as your riduur is not good for the future of Mandalore-” She starts only to trail off when Jaster unholsters his blaster and starts examining it thoughtfully.

“Your objection has been noted, and ignored.” Jaster says mildly, “Does anyone else have any complaints?”

The room is totally silent, and Jaster nods. And then he turns and leaves the room. He has a riduur to spend time with, and an ad he hasn’t seen in weeks. And at the moment, his aliit is the only thing that matters.

[noisynaia]

Driving Home for Christmas

A Modern Mandalorian AU

summary: It's your first Christmas with your son Grogu and you are a little heartbroken that Din won't be home to experience it with you. Din is, however, determined not to miss the holiday with his little family.

word count: 2k

pairing: Din Djarin x f!reader 

note: Title from 'Driving Home for Christmas' by Chris Rea. Just a little thing I wrote in a rush, just a lot of fluff. Adoption, new parents. No use of (y/n). This has not been beta or proofread. English is not my native language.

Happy holidays to all who celebrate! ♥︎

Din curses under his breath as he rolls the car a few feet forward before the queue again comes to a halt. The red tint from the taillights of the car in front of him is painting his face and the dashboard of the rental in a garnet glow, he turns on the radio to drown out the sound of the windshield wipers. The snow has begun to fall again and he feels stiff and sore after so many hours sitting in the same position behind the wheel. 

He had been sitting in the sad hotel room after just ending a facetime call from you. The view of you and Grogu with his little button nose and big eyes had been too much. The thought of not being able to hold either of you in his arms until the new year had been unbearable, so he stood up and packed his things. There was no way he was going to spend Christmas without the two of you.

It had not been possible to get a flight with such a short notice this close to Christmas eve. Din had made a quick decision, renting the first car he could get his hands on and started on the eight hour drive home. It is not the first Christmas after getting with you, he has had to be away, do to work. He has always hated having to leave you, even though the holiday season is not something Din has ever really cared for; he is usually already over it by the end of November, but that was before he had met you, and becoming a father is what really has tipped his view on the holiday season. He is not going to miss Christmas this year. 

· · ❄︎ · ·

You are staring blankly into the oven where the cookies you have made are baking. You had got up early this morning to get everything ready.

Grogu is sitting in his highchair at the kitchen table, happily munching on the grapes you just had cut for him. It’s around 11 am on the 24th and you have managed to finish about all of the things that needed to be finished by now. All of the gifts have been wrapped, the guest room made ready for your guests and the entire house has been cleaned. You are happy, you are going to spend your first Christmas with Grogu, and even though he is too young to really understand what’s going on you want it to be a good one. But you are feeling a bit sad as well. You had really wished that Din would have been home to experience it with you… 

You know how bad he feels when he has to leave for work, but this time had been especially bad. It has been a recurring thing through your entire relationship and, even though you miss him when he is gone, you have never had a problem with it. That has changed after adopting Grogu, Din’s absence feels stronger now, and you know that Din is feeling awful every time he has to go. He had looked sad when you had facetimed in the morning, his eyes had told you how bad he wanted to be home, he had smiled for Grogus sake, but you know him too well and can look through his facade.                   

You are lost in thoughts about Din and how you had hoped he was here with you right now when the sound of the doorbell brings you back to reality. You get yourself together and pick Grogu, who has just finished his snack, up from his chair and settle him on your hip, bringing him with you to the door to let your guests in.

Peli is standing in the door with a giant smile on her face, Greef is standing behind her, his face and torso completely hidden behind the crazy amount of presents he is holding in his arms that you know most of are for Grogu. Peli and Greef are not Din’s real parents, but they might as well be, and they definitely have taken on the role as grandparents after you and Din have gotten Grogu.               

“Look who is here Grogu!” You say to your son, bouncing him gently on your hip. 

“Is that my big boy!” Peli exclames, holding her arms out for him.    

The little boy hides his face in the crook of your neck as you greet your guests and lovingly scolds them for going way overboard with the gifts, but it doesn’t take long before he peeks out from his hiding spot, offering Peli and Karga a shy smile and a little ‘hi’. He is usually a total chatterbox, often cooing and babbling to you and Din or at his beloved frog stuffie, but he hasn’t really begun talking yet. His vocabulary contains of about five words which are; hi, which he uses generously when shyness doesn’t overtake him. Tanks, his version of thanks, which he also is using a lot, he really is a polite little boy. Then there is booie, which he happily squeals every time his favourite cartoon dog is on the tv. Fog, which is his version of the word frog, (his favourite animal) he might have an unfortunate pronunciation, but he is so cute when he says it that it doesn’t matter. And last but not least ‘patu’ which neither you or Din can figure out what actually means, but the little boy loves saying it and it has a very cute sound to it.  

“Don’t go all shy on me now! We were best of friends the last time I saw you.” Peli whines and Grogu is luckily quick to lose the last of his shyness, sticking his little arms out for Peli to hold him. You hand him over and instead take some of the many gifts from Greef so he can get through the door and get his coat off.  

· · ❄︎ · · 

The four of you are having a cosy day together. You decorated cookies and went for a walk in the snow, Grogu had laughed every time a snowflake landed on his nose or one of his cute chubby cheeks, you truly are grateful for seeing him being such a happy little boy. You and Greef are in the kitchen now, the cheerful sound of Ella Fitzgerald's ‘Santa Claus Got Stuck in My Chimney’ sounding from the radio while Peli is playing with Grogu in the living room. You are preparing the potatoes and side dishes while Greef is in charge of the meat. You can’t help but tell him about how you wish Din could have been here with you all, allowing yourself to feel a little sad again now that Peli is distracting Grogu. 

“I know that he wishes he could be here too.” Din’s father figure assures you with a sympathetic look.     

“But do you think he would be willing to give it up ?” You can’t help but ask, you know how much Din cares about his work, but him missing out on important things with Grogu doesn’t make it seem worth it to you. 

Greef is about to open his mouth to answer you when you are interrupted by the glow from a pair of headlights from your driveway which surprises you, you’re not expecting any other guests and you have never heard of Christmas carolers coming by car. You only get to wonder who it can be for a few seconds before you hear the doorbell ring. You remove your apron and wipe your hands on a dishtowel before you go to open the front door. The surprise of who is standing on the doorstep is overwhelming and you can barely believe that he is real. In front of you stands a very tired looking Din, his hair is messy and he. You are standing frozen by shock and surprise for a few seconds before you crash forward into his arms. He hugs you tight against his chest and you feel your eyes getting watery. 

“What are you doing here?” You croak through happy tears. 

“I came home for Christmas.” He says it so matter of factly that you can’t help but laugh. 

“But what about-” You begin, but are cut off by his lips being pressed against your own. 

“It’s not worth it, not if I’ll have to miss out on this.” He whispers into your mouth as he gently caresses your cheekbone with his knuckles.   

You are completely engulfed by Din’s embrace and so dumbfounded by the fact that he’s here that you make a little jump of surprise when a loud happy shriek is heard from behind you. In the door stands Peli with Grogu in her arms whose face is about to be split in half by the giant smile on his face. Karga stands behind them with a hand on Peli’s shoulder, smiling warmly still wearing his Rudolfh the reindeer apron. 

Grogu is fidgeting in Peli’s arms and she sets him down and the second he makes contact with the floor he excitedly whaddle-runs towards you on his little toddler legs. The view of your little boy running up to you makes you feel like your heart might burst. And even though a part of you wants to never be released from Din’s embrace, you have no hard feelings when Din let go of you to kneel down and take his sons into his arms. Grogu laughs loudly as Din stands up, planting a kiss on his son's chubby cheek and blows a raspberry for good measure. 

“Missed you too buddy.” Your husband says in the gentlest of voice as Grogu plants a tiny hand on each of Din’s cheeks. “Pa!” He shrieks happily at Din, probably too excited to pronounce his usual ‘patu’ you assume, but then he catches you by surprise as he happily exclaims an almost perfect. “Papa!” 

Grogu laughs at Din’s surprised face, before turning his head to look at you with a proud look on his little face. From your eyes, that already were damp by the surprise of Din’s homecoming, fresh warm tears are falling down your face. Din makes a choked sound from deep inside his chest and looks at you, his entire face lit up and his warm brown eyes blown wide by surprise and happiness. “Did you hear that?!” 

“Yeah, I did.” You nod with a big smile on your face. 

Din takes a step over to you, holding Grogu with one arm and sliding the other one around you, holding the two most important people in his life tight. 

The three of you stand like this for a long moment before Grogu gets impatient and begins to wiggle to be sat down. Din obliges, setting him down on the doormat from where he walks back to Peli and Greef who both have big smiles on their faces. You and Din stay for a brief moment, needing a little moment alone before going in to join them. Din holding you tight as he wipes away a tear from under your eye with a gentle thumb 

“I can’t believe you’re here.” You whisper.

Din kiss your lips softly before answering. “Me neither, but I just couldn’t miss this.” He shakes his head lightly, the corner of his eyes shining with dampness. You can’t believe how lucky you are to have him, he had had a hard time showing his emotions in the beginning of your relationship, but he has always had a big and loving heart and getting to see him getting more and more comfortable with showing and sharing his emotions over the years has been such a beautiful journey.  

 “I love you so much Mesh’la.” He says bringing your hand up to his mouth to leave a kiss in the palm of your hand.

“I love you too Din.” 

He kisses your lips again before leading you through the door hand in hand to go inside and celebrate Christmas with your little family.       

[theidiotwhowritesthings]

just some random prompts (up to you how you'll use it or not lol):

Din Djarin x forcesensitive/jedi!reader

Reader actually understands Mando'a, got flustered when Din calls her cyarika, mesh'la (maybe have the reader respond in Mando'a too and let's see how it goes from there)

Reader is some masked vigilante of some sort and has a bounty on her head, Din Djarin unmasked her during a fight and turns out she was also reported missing few years ago by her family (maybe make reader a noble-blood to sprinkle some drama)

I recommend the song Close to You by Neon Trees, maybe it's just me but it reminds me of your Din Djarin x Reader drabbles hehe

also, I love your writing so muuuuch. xx

Din Djarin x Female!Reader

Warnings: mild start to something smutty if you squint lol

Word Count: 1,049 (damn it i was so close to under 1k)

LANGUAGE BARRIER

a/n: i have din djarin brain rot smh. also, ngl, i did not proof read this with the intensity i usually try to so🤷🏻‍♀️ OH AND HEY IF YOU HAVEN'T VOTED IN MY POLL YET GO DO SO, IT'S ON MY MASTERLIST.

Mando’a was an interesting language. It was different. That’s what initially drew you to it. Unlike the other languages you studied, Mando’a texts were hard to find. For a while, you had to make do with just scraps of information. That almost made learning it so much more satisfying though. Then, while at University, you met an elder who had grown up adopted by Mandalorians. He had never taken the Creed, drifted away from the culture, but not without becoming fluent in Mando’a. He was the reason the holes in your education were filled, and that meant he was also the reason you could enjoy Din Djarin’s mumbling.

Over the year you traveled with him, he became more and more comfortable with your presence⏤ at least, that’s what you assumed the reasoning was for him becoming more vocal. They were little statements at first. Din would be clearing out his weapon locker, run into a problem, and spit out a string of curses. Peli had once told him that the Razor Crest would be grounded for at least a week and you hung onto every word of Mando’a of the rant he spiraled into about the last quarry who had caused the damage. You had planned on telling him you knew Mando’a⏤ you were going to casually mention it.

Then, he called you mesh’la.

A nickname you hadn’t expected.

Din had a habit of using a lot of nicknames that you’d never expect from him. Cyar’ika. Ner sarad. Cyare. Senaar’ika. Each new, adoring nickname would bring warmth to your face, but you had missed the normal window of opportunity to mention to him that you spoke his language. Especially when, in a panic, he had referred to you as ‘cyar’ika’ for the first time and you asked him what it meant. Din had answered in a simple way, giving you the definition without missing a beat, as if it were a casual thing. For a while, you thought that meant there was no significant weight behind those words.

Your theory of the nicknames just being for fun was shot in the face when you nearly got shot yourself. While out in a city, you had gotten caught in the crossfire. The quarry himself had spotted you and with a sickening grin turned to put you down. Luckily, he had missed⏤ it only clipped you in the arm⏤ but the rampage that Din had gone into was shocking. Not nearly as shocking as when you heard him speak to the quarry after pummeling his face beyond recognition: ‘I’ll bring you in cold for that, bastard. I don’t show mercy to those who target what’s mine’. For the rest of the night, you convinced yourself that it wasn’t what you thought. Sure, the two of you shared lingering touches and the tension had grown since you came aboard, but it had to be something else. 

Weeks later, while waiting in a cantina for Din to return from obtaining new pucks, a Twi’lek man had saddled up beside you. Despite making it clear you had no interest, the man continued to invade your space. That is, until Din stepped up to your other side and pulled you into his side. The Twi’lek had abandoned his goal very quickly and the words that left Din’s lips stayed with you for weeks on end. ‘Should've known better than to leave someone as beautiful as you alone at the bar’. Still, no matter how badly you wanted to just jump him, you convinced yourself he didn’t want you. He was a friend. That was all.

Until seconds ago. You sat on one of the crates in the Razor Crest’s cargo hold as Din applied a bacta patch to the claw marks across your calf. A run in with a Trandoshan gone wrong. He had pulled off his gloves to provide the care, not something out of the ordinary, but the feel of his fingertips against your skin was not a sensation you’d ever get used to. Din set his entire hand against the upper half of your calf and his thumb caressed the skin there. Without looking up, he murmured, “I will know you forever.”

You fully understood the weight of his words. Din rose to stand and began to walk away to put away the first aid kit. The words fell out of your mouth before you could consider any of the consequences, “I can speak Mando’a, and I am so sorry I didn’t tell you earlier but I panicked.” In the most uncharacteristic move you had seen from him, Din tripped over some of the gear he had been passing in the rush to spin and look back at you. The Mandalorian caught himself before he could do more than stumble. You offered him a sheepish smile, “Sorry. Again.”

“You speak Mando’a?” Din asked in his language. 

“A little.” You nodded then shook your head. “Actually, a lot. I’m⏤ I’m fluent.”

“This entire time?” Din slowly crept back towards you. You nodded. He continued on until he stood between your legs. Din’s hands settled on his hip and you were forced to lean back a bit to keep your nose from being pressed against his chest.

You scrunched your nose in concern, “Are you mad?”

“No. Of course not, my love.” Din replied, his voice low. Din’s bare hand lifted to cup the side of your face. His thumb caressing the side of it. Din pressed in closer again so you were forced to tilt your head up to meet his hidden gaze as he stared down at you. His touch trailed away from your cheek, and he let the pad of his thumb ghost over the outline of your lips⏤ your breath hitched in your throat, heart beating wildly in your chest. Din pressed his thumb against your already parted lips more firmly, the tip of it brushing against your tongue, before he dragged it down further to open your mouth even wider. “But you are in trouble. Are you going to accept your punishment with grace?” Your lips twitched up in a smile as an ache of desire ran down your spine and straight to your core. You leaned in just enough to fully wrap your lips around his thumb. Din chuckled. “Good girl.”

[satoru-is-the-way]

Din Djarin x Reader

My Fandom Master List for Din Stories and more!

 A/N: SPOILERS FOR MANDALORIAN SEASON 3! I loved the first episodes so decided to make a little fanfic over Episode One!

Warnings: IMPLIED SMUT, MENTIONS OF SMUT, and angst

Summary: On Nevarro Greef Karga offers (Y/n) and Din a working position and a nice home to become a 'family'. However they both want different things.

"A Home"

Don't you know I'm no good for you?

I've learned to lose you, can't afford to

Tore my shirt to stop you bleedin'

But nothin' ever stops you leavin'

Quiet when I'm comin' home and I'm on my own

I could lie, say I like it like that..

"His name is Grogu." (Y/n) (L/n) and Din Djarin replied in sync.

"If you say so. Now come I want to show you something." High Magistrate Greef Karga waved their corrections and ventured back into his office. He walled around his desk and with one quick hand motion a hologram appears depicting a map of his town.

"There is a beautiful parcel right here down by the flats." Greef points to the sector which lights up correspondingly. (Y/n) eyes carefully evaluated the sector. A perfect home they could make. Nevarro's economy is accelerating beyond what (Y/n) would have imagined. Not only this but they are independent of the New Republic. This area would be for raising their child. It was obviously to Greef that (Y/n) liked the appeal of settling down. However before she could answer Din voiced his wants, as always.

"I appreciate the offer," Din shook his head ," But We have some matters to look after." At this Greef's eyebrows knit.

"I am confused...I thought you both completed your mission but here you are running around with the same little critter." He glanced towards Grogu. The child meanwhile enjoyed his new discovery, the office chair, using his force abilities to spin himself.

"It's more complicated. We completed our quest but a year later Grogu returned to us." Din sighed stopping the chair. Grogu made a noise of protest, "I removed my helmet and now I'm an apostate." He finished. (Y/n) glanced down at the map once more.

Their relationship had been complicated. She had accompanied Din and Grogu since day one. It had been the two, a clan of three, traveling the galaxy in search of a Jedi master. Over this period feelings are bound to form. Many assumed they were a couple and Grogu is their adopted son. That is not far from the truth. While both are quite aware of their feelings neither has yet made a move to become 'official' She remembered vividly the day he removed his helmet, the day they lost Grogu, and they day he finally took her in the bed. To feel him move inside of her. Their lips hunger, deprived and starved. That had been their first and only time in sexual intercourse. After that, it was simple hand-holding, cuddling, and he did not remove his helmet since. But they talked about a future, a family, so when Grogu returned on Tatooine (Y/n) figured this was the galaxy's way of telling her the time is now. Plus Greef is handing them an elegant home for free?!

"Which is all the more reason for you both to stay here. Where you are from, Din, you are an apostate. But here you would be landed gentry." Greef argued. "You two could be stable and this little guy can grow up here. Go to school and be a normal kid."

"It's worth a look." (Y/n) adds Din tilted his head in her direction. "We should go check out the place." If She could see Din's face he would look at (Y/n) in disbelief. How could she be saying this?! Out of all people, (Y/n) would be the only one to understand him. Din is extremely vocal about his want to atone for the crime of removing his helmet.

"No," Din replied voice low and unwavering. The bounty hunters both started at each other in silence unwilling to break. That is one thing Greef knew about them both, too damn stubborn. It felt like hours had passed since Din spoke.

"I-I didn't mean to cause a couples fight." He stutters out.

"We aren't a couple!" (Y/n) and Din both quickly answered. Grogu looked up from his chair with a hand full of red candies.

"I am going with Grogu to look at the parcel. Your beskar ass is more than happy to stay here." (Y/n) replies and shoulder checks Din before picking Grogu up. She turned to Greef who instantly gave her the directions mainly out of fear.

"I said no." Din orders quickly following her out.

"You don't own me!" She yelled on the verge of crying.

"I don't care!" He grabbed her arm pulling her back into his chest. "I want you to marry me. Belong to me and only me!" Din said into her ear. (Y/n) shivers at the idea of being married to Din, being (Y/n) Djarin, raising Grogu, and having his children.

"Then I want this! I need a home. I want a family. I need stability, Din!" She yelled.

"I will give you that but my creed matters!"

"Matters more than me?! More than Grogu?!" (Y/n) growled causing the child to whimper

"Don't bring him into this." Din warned her.

"Why not? You removed your helmet for him. As a sign of your love. Then you know what we did after." (Y/n) suggested in a way Grogu wouldn't know. "But after that nothing. I waited far too long for you finally to admit you want to be with me. I won't marry you. Din, I understand that you feel you have to do this because they took you in and saved you. Made you a Mandalorian. But I figured being with me, with Grogu, and starting a family would mean more. But I guess I was wrong." Din kept silent and slowly let's his grip go.

"I love you. Please don't do this." He begged.

"Do what?! As for a life? For a family! I want this for us Din! I love the Galaxy and traveling but I need a home."

"You and Grogu are my home." Din cups her cheek but (Y/n) pulls away.

"This , us, whatever this is. I'm done." She turned away letting the tears fall leaving him standing there defeated.

Don't you know too much already?

I'll only hurt you if you let me

Call me friend but keep me closer (call me back)

And I'll call you when *my missions* over

It has been a week since they argued. She did not see a trace of Din. Greef on the hand talked about how Din is a complete mess. The man has not left Nevarro's local pub until they kicked him out at the end of the night. (Y/n) tried to be happy living here but without Din to hold her at night...she could not sleep. How selfish was she!? Din loved her and wanted to get married...But their stubbornness got the better of them.

"He needs you." Greef sat down in the dining room chair. Currently, Grogu sat in the highchair as you feed him. "I never would have mentioned it...If I knew it would cause problems."

"No, you did nothing wrong. I felt this way...After Grogu left. Din and I want the same thing but in different ways." Grogu whimpers at his dad's name. "We traveled with Grogu all that time. It wasn't until we left that he finally admitted how he felt. Din removed his helmet and...he was an apostate. They took him in after losing his home. Din almost died but these Mandalorians saved him. He feels dedicated to them but I...I need stability now." (Y/n) frowns.

"I offered him a nice hotel. Din refused. He is located here." Greef gave her an address. "Din is in a cheap motel. Let me have the baby. He needs time with Uncle Greef." The man beems and Grogu squeals knowing he could get away with anything being with Greef.

"Fine. Mind your manners Grogu or else you will be in trouble." (Y/n) tone is motherly she crossed her arms giving the baby a look.

But nothin' is better sometimes

Once we've both said our goodbyes

Let's just let it go

Let me let you go

A knock came on the door and Din quickly opened the door. (Y/n) is caught off guard being met with a pair of soft brown eyes. "Please don't leave me." Din's unfiltered voice almost cause her to fall to her knees and beg his forgiveness. "Please I love you too much." He whispered pulling (Y/n) into a passion-filled kiss. The female melts and becomes putty in his strong arms. She pushed him back and quickly shuts the door. Din groaned feeling her body pressed against his.

"I won't leave you, Din." She responds.

"Let me...try and atone. If I can't then I'll come back here with you and Grogu. We will make a life." He whispered and (Y/n).

"Take me..." She begged. That is all Din needed to hear before making love to her all day long.