Let Me Carry It for You
(A Safest with You “Big Game” Drabble)
880 words / Modern AU Retired Mob Enforcer!Din Djarin x fem!reader
Summary: Din’s love language is Acts of Service.
Warnings: None! All fluff! New-ish established relationship, pet names as usual (Pretty bird, baby, etc.) Contains absolutely no football at all 🏈
A/N: I wrote this on my phone while waiting for the UsherBowl to start 😂 Set after Ch. 11 - The Poker Game but can be read as a standalone ☺️
Series Masterlist
Al races you to the top of the stairs at Din’s place and wins easily; tail wagging, he noses open the door and runs in as soon as you’ve turned the key and pressed down the handle.
“Alfredo!!!”
“We put the Puppy Bowl on for you, bud!!”
Din gets up from his place on the couch, giving you a disapproving look, “Pretty bird, you should have let me help you with the bags,” as he kisses you and takes the offending bags from your hands.
“I thought the point of you giving me a key was so I wouldn’t have to buzz you all the time to be let in,” you say, as you follow behind him to the kitchen. You pat the heads of the Mandos sitting in a row on the couch as you pass behind: Mayfeld, Woves, Jimmy, Paz. Duck, duck, duck, goose.
Din starts unloading the dips and sandwiches from the bags, “I gave you a key because I wanted you to know that I like having you around all the time, that you can make my place, your place.”
His back is turned to you, but you can tell he’s sighing, resigned. It’s always been hard for you to let other people do things for you and it’s been no exception with Din. Din’s love language is acts of service, and sometimes when you don’t let him take care of things for you, whether because you’re used to doing them yourself or you don’t want to burden him, it feels like you’re not letting him love you. He knows that’s not the case, it just feels that way sometimes.
You snake your arms around Din’s middle and lay you cheek against his back, listening to the gentle rhythm of his breathing, “I’m sorry, baby. I’ve done it all on my own for a long time. It’ll just take me a beat to feel safe relying on someone else.”
“Safe?” Din turns to wrap you up in his arms; that wasn’t the word he was expecting you to use.
Pressing your cheek deep into his chest, you murmur, “What if I get used to you doing things for me… then one day, you’re gone? Then where will I be? Or what if you get annoyed at doing things for me that you know I could just do myself? And…”
“… and leave?”
You shrug; it sounds kind of silly when he says it like that.
Din’s hand comes to gently pinch your chin and tilt your head back so he can look in your eyes, “Pretty girl, listen to me. I’m not going anywhere. And if it were up to me, you’d never lift a finger for anything but I know that’s not what you want. Just want to do things for you that make your life easier. Better, okay? I just want to make your life better.”
Tears well along your lower lash line, your chest swelling with emotion. Of course, he does. Din is so caring and respectful of your boundaries, never pushing you to give more of yourself than you’re ready. If anyone is worth the effort of stepping out of your comfort zone, it’s him.
“You do! You do make it better,” you nod and press your lips gently to his, “Okay, I’ll let you carry things for me.” Din smiles, the both of you knowing that your meaning is both literal and figurative. “But, please be patient with me? I’m out of practice.”
“I have all the time in the world for you, pretty bird,” Din cradles your head in his hand and pulls you in for a long, tender kiss. Never parting from your lips, he presses his plush mouth to yours over and over, each touch a self contained promise.
“When you guys are done making out, do you think you can bring out some more wings?” Paz’s voice carries across the apartment.
You giggle and after locating the right takeout box among the many on the counter, tip a generous amount of wings onto a plate. As you go to head back out to the living room, you’re stopped when the hand you have in Din’s is held back. Still leaning against the kitchen counter, Din’s holding your hand but not moving, looking at you with a playful expression. It takes you a second to get his meaning when he looks at you, then looks down at the plate in your hand, then back at you again.
“Omigod,” you roll your eyes as you hold the plate of wings out to him, “Din, can you please carry this for me?”
Din smirks as he takes the plate from you, “See, that wasn’t so hard wasn’t it, baby?”
You stick your tongue out at him as you turn to walk back to the group that’s now loudly cheering some play that’s being replayed in slow mo on the big screen. Din’s long strides catch up to you easily and as he does, he reaches out with his free hand to squeeze your ass, whispering as he passes you, “After the game I’ll reward you for being such a good girl for me.”
Grinning after him, you don’t think you’ve ever been this excited for the live play of a football game to resume.
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