#din djarin x black reader

[wakandas-vibranium]

Planet Earth 2023 || Part One

Pairing: Din Djarin x Fem!Reader

Word count: 2.9k

Warning(s): Canon typical violence, cursing, injuries, fluff, slow burn

A/N: This will be a mini series in ten parts. Semi slow burn between Din and Reader. No beta reader, but there shouldn’t be too many grammatical errors. Please like, comment and share!

Summary: The Mandalorian and his kid were ambushed by pirates in space and ended up on Earth, crashing the new and improved Razor Crest right onto your front lawn.

part two

part three

part four

part five

part six

It was a shining afternoon in Florida. You were relaxing in your backyard, in a lounge chair beside your massive pool, soaking in all that the sun had to offer.

You were a renowned trauma surgeon, and this was your first vacation in four years. You considered sailing across the Atlantic Ocean for three weeks, but ultimately opted to stay in the comfort of your own home. A lot of time, effort, and money went into building your dream home, so of course you decided to bask in the ambiance for the next twenty-one days.

You lived in the middle of nothingness. Your nearest neighbor was a 6-mile drive up the road, and you couldn't be happier. It was a 12-mile trip to downtown, where there were plenty of grocery stores, gas stations, and restaurants. 

You were on day two of your vacation. You took the liberty of driving into town yesterday to stock up on everything you needed. It was the first week of July, which was one of the busiest weeks in Tampa.

There were simply too many people. College and high school kids on summer break, bikers, tourists, and locals that got on your nerves every chance they got. Not to mention the buzzing flies, lizards, and deafening cicadas that were hellbent on driving everyone in Florida insane.

You leaned forward, taking one final swig from your flute glass. You made delicious mimosas. This was only your second glass, but you wanted to squeeze in a short nap before pouring a third.

You placed the empty glass on the mini table beside you and leaned all the way back, relaxing into the lounge chair. You tilted your hat down to protect your eyes from the beaming sun and drifted off to sleep. 

Out of nowhere, a sound that you could only describe as the blue sky opening jolted you awake, and you shot up out of the lounge chair, gawking up at the sky. You couldn’t believe what you were seeing. You snagged your cell phone from the mini table, checking the time. 

4:09pm

You had only been asleep for eleven minutes. You pinched yourself to make sure you weren’t in the middle of a dream. 

The foreign junk of metal barely missed the tall gate surrounding your home as it landed unceremoniously on your front lawn. You kicked off your wedge sandals and hauled ass to the front of your house, mentally preparing to rip this asshole to shreds with your venomous words. 

You stopped at the wreckage, grumbling obscenities as you assessed the damage that was done. Your tulips were tarnished and a wide section of grass was burnt to a crisp. At least the lily and chrysanthemum sections were left unharmed.

The door to the colossal heap of metal opened, revealing the culprit, who appeared to be a helmeted man dressed in metal and black. 

Wow, you thought, completely sidetracked by the man you saw before you and what appeared to be his ship. That was the spitting image of a spaceship. Living in Florida, you’ve met your fair share of cosplayers, but something about this man was different. How in the hell did he build something like that? How did he afford it? Those looked like authentic parts. 

Despite the turbulent landing, the ship was not significantly damaged. It probably needed four or five repairs, but it appeared to be functional. 

Whoever it was needed to collect their things, compensate for the damages, and get the hell off your property. You rolled your eyes at yourself for not stopping in the house to retrieve your handgun. Hopefully the man wouldn’t be violent towards you. 

You walked fiercely up the ramp onto the ship, pausing when you spotted the man slightly bent over, groaning in pain as he clutched his right thigh. 

“What in the fuck?” you yelled at the man, stopping all movement once you saw he was aiming a weapon at you. 

He’s taking this cosplayer shit a little too far, you thought. You folded your arms across your chest, tapping a bare, beautifully pedicured foot against the floor of the ship as you waited for the tin man to say something. 

He didn’t. 

“What in the hell kind of gun is that?” you cursed, squinting as you pointed at the weirdly shaped weapon in his hand. 

He tilted his head towards you, but still didn’t say anything. 

“And what the hell are you wearing?” you continued, throwing your hands up in exasperation. 

He looked like a complete and utter fool. Okay, that is not the case at all. He actually looked incredibly good in his costume. However, now is not the time to be ogling the man who just crashed into your front yard, destroying your favorite flowers.

“Get away from me.” he said, grunting softly, and gripping his thigh tighter as he attempted to stand up. Red drops of blood soaked a patch around the knee of his pants and trickled down his leg onto the spaceship's floor.

The smooth gruffness of his modulated voice was enough to make you standstill in your criticisms. It was almost as if he was speaking from his chest and not his mouth. You did not expect him to sound like that. How alluring. 

“Excuse me!” you gasped in dismay once you remembered the rude tone he took with you as if you were the one who crashed into his perfect day. 

The unmitigated gall this metal man had. 

You pointed a perfectly manicured nail at him, “You’re the one who landed this fugly chunk of metal in my backyard! Who are you?” 

“I am Mandalorian D—“ 

“—Is that supposed to mean somethin’ to me?” you asked, interrupting the bleeding man. 

He exhaled in your direction. You barely gave him a chance to get a word in edgewise. Something about the man seemed both vulnerable and frightening at the same time. The large tear that was on his thigh was bleeding profusely. You took a cautious step forward, eyeing the wound. Although it didn't appear to be infected, the puncture was fairly deep and would require stitches.  

“Who did this to you?”

“A pirate. We al-almost didn’t make it b—“

Who is we, you thought. You were so focused on the metal man, you didn’t even see the tiny green munchkin looking up at you with huge eyes that matched its long ears. 

Oh my god. It was a green baby E.T. 

Your heart skipped a beat and you slyly pinched yourself again to make sure you were wide awake. 

He was too cute.

“—I’m sorry, did you just say a pirate did this to you?” you squeaked, interrupting the injured man yet again. Sorry not sorry. You were definitely in shock.

Great. Now alien pirates were a thing. 

You shook your head hoping that would clear your bewildered mind. You only had two mimosas, but this newfound information was starting to give you an awful migraine. It was happening too fast. Your brain needed time to catch up. 

“I think I put in the wrong coordinates before jumping,” the helmeted man disclosed before asking, “What planet is this?” 

The space man went on about how his gravity well projector and navicomp malfunctioned due to the shootout with the pirates. 

“Planet?” you replied, “Are you high?” 

“Just tell me where I am.” the strange man grunted as he slowly rose to his feet, succeeding this time. 

“This is Planet earth. Florida to be specific. Ever been here before?” 

“This backwater—No. No, I haven’t.” 

“Well, welcome to the sunshine state Mandalorian.” you flashed him a smile that didn’t quite meet your eyes. 

“Just call me Mando.” 

“Alright then, Mando,” you said, “I’m a doctor and I can stitch up that nasty gash you have there.” 

He said nothing for a few seconds as he stood there weighing his options. He took one look down at the baby before agreeing. 

“Yes, that’s a good idea. I can’t fight like this.” 

“Who are you fightin’?” 

“The pirates who tried to shoot me and my kid down. They’ll be here soon.” 

Your second day of vacation was going to be spent fighting off alien pirates, huh? Not too shabby. 

While he went to gather what he needed, you took this opportunity to explore this section of the ship in greater detail. Wow. This ship must have cost him a pretty penny. You extended a helping hand to the Mandalorian on the path to your home, but he declined, instead picking up the child and walking alongside you. 

“You live alone?” He asked, stepping into the house after you. 

“Yes.”

“Why?” he pressed, stumbling a bit as he tried to round the corner and keep up with your long strides. 

“None of your goddamn business.” you quipped, motioning for him to come into the kitchen. He snorted softly and the baby cooed. 

Somewhat unexpectedly, Mando let you steer him into the kitchen and even accepted your assistance in guiding him to a chair at the island in the middle of your kitchen. He sat the kid on the island and they both turned, watching you reach into the upper cupboard to pull out your homemade first aid kit.

You brought two chairs closer to him, sitting in one of them while motioning for him to position his leg up on the seat of the other chair. He leaned forward slightly and made a low grunting sound as he shifted his leg to perch on the chair. 

To gain better access to the injury, you gingerly removed the metal plate that was shielding most of his thigh. Although the bleeding had stopped to some extent, the wound still needed cleaning and disinfecting before being patched up. You leaned closer as you dabbed at the laceration. Every now and then, when you applied too much pressure, he hissed softly, but he never told you to stop.

He asked, “Is that bacta?” 

“I’m not sure what bacta is,” you admitted, half shrugging as you examined the jagged edges of the laceration. It was a nasty cut on his thigh, right above his knee. You noticed that his skin was white and not green. A curiosity you’d ask about at a more appropriate time. “This is a numbing agent called lidocaine. We use it so that the stitches don’t hurt as much.” 

“Will it make me drowsy?” 

You shook your head, “It shouldn’t. Plus it only lasts about 40 minutes or so.” 

“Okay.” 

“It’ll be a quick pinch then I’ll start stitchin’ you up.” 

He just nodded. His kid cooed worriedly and you felt your heartstrings being tugged by the little one yet again. Aww, you thought, the little one was worried about his dad. 

“Don’t worry, kid. I won’t hurt him.” you promised. 

After injecting the lidocaine into his thigh with the needle, you proceeded to suture the wound closed, making sure not to pull too tightly on the ends. You went a little deeper than necessary on the next stitch, which caused Mando to jerk and grip your wrist, cursing loudly, “Dank farrik!” 

“Ooh,” you grimaced at the sound of his harsh pants, stopping to glance at him and the kid, “I didn't mean to go that deep. Sorry, Mando.” you apologized. 

To take his mind off the discomfort, you took two fingers and massaged the underside of his knee. As he relaxed, you could feel the tension ease out of his thigh muscles. Your method worked like a charm. It always did. He loosened his grip on your wrist before dropping his hand back into his lap.

“You ruined my favorite flowers, you know…” you commented as you peered up at him, attempting to find his eyes through the helmet. How was it even possible to have a tinted helmet? Exactly what were the Mandalorians so afraid of in space that they had to conceal their faces? When you failed to locate his eyes, you went back to the wound and threw another stitch. You were almost done now. Just a couple more sutures. 

It was getting harder to ignore the tiny green guy's agitated cries. He must have been getting hungry or bored. Mando didn't utter a word, so you assume he was just used to it. 

“I’m sorry about your tulips,” he expressed, ducking his head a bit in embarrassment, “I’ll see if I can salvage them once I know we’re in the clear.” 

“You know how to tend to flowers?”

“A little bit.” he said, shrugging as he turned his attention towards his upset kid. 

“Sorry,” Mando apologized for the increasing volume of the kid’s cries, “He’s probably hungry.” 

“Well, I have some leftovers from brunch. Does he have any allergies?” 

“Not that I'm aware of.” Mando replied. 

“Alright. I’ll fix him a plate once I’m done with you. Would you like to eat somethin’ too?” 

“Not really hungry at the moment.” 

“Okay.” 

After you had completed the last stitch, you took a little, red container, opened it, and used a dollop of vaseline to evenly spread it over the stitches.  As soon as you had completed that task, you got to your feet and headed over to the kitchen sink, where you washed your hands thoroughly.  

You took some oatmeal and heated it up in the microwave, sliced an apple and added a few red pieces to the bowl. You grabbed a spoon, handing it to the child as you placed the blue ceramic bowl in front of him. He cooed happily before digging in.

You asked Mando to wait some time before strapping the metallic layer of protection back on his thigh, but he refused. 

The child appeared to be in a better mood now that his belly was full. You had to resist the urge to ask Mando if you could hold him. He was just too stinkin’ cute. You’d probably never let him go. 

You lingered on the couch for an hour, staring at Mando entertaining his kid, before opting to get some fresh air in your backyard. 

“Where are you going?” Mando questioned as he put his son on the couch and hurried over to you, standing in front of the sliding glass doors, blocking you from leaving the house. 

You forced back an eye roll as you reminded yourself that he was only being cautious. There was no need to be rude to him. He merely wanted you to avoid getting killed by the pirate who had followed him to your house. From space. 

“I need to grab my phone,” you explained as you pointed to the chair you were lounging in peacefully before he arrived, “Look— it’s just right there by the pool.” 

“Fine,” he exhaled sharply after following your direction, eyeing the object, “Be quick. It isn’t safe yet.” He stepped aside after you nodded at him and you slid the door open, stepping out into your backyard. 

You're not certain why, but on your way to the swimming pool, you kept track of how many steps you took. You’re astonished that you haven't done this before now. 31 steps in total from your house to your pool.

You bent over, snagging your cell phone from the small table, checking the time.

6:42pm

Today, time was flying by. It was almost time for dinner. You could probably cook dinner while you waited for this so-called pirate extraterrestrial to arrive. Sadly, you were no longer in the mood to make dinner. You could just order a pizza. Did they even eat pizza in space?

Your phone chimed, and after tapping the green icon to check your messages, you saw that you had received a new text from your friend and colleague Jaime, who was a highly qualified cardiothoracic surgeon. Due to the fact that you two worked so closely together on various urgent cases, it was inevitable that the two of you became great pals.

An appreciative smile formed at the corner of your mouth as you read Jaime’s message which reported that there was no code blue while she was on duty. This occurred once or twice a year, but it was always a cause for celebration. You typed out a few emoji’s before pressing send. 

“Tulip, run!” Mando bellowed from inside the house. 

You glanced at him in confusion. Who was tulip, you thought sardonically until it dawned on you. Your mouth fell open in a hushed O. He never asked for your name and you never offered it. 

So, he took it upon himself to nickname you your favorite flower? Interesting.

You ignored the sudden fluttering of your heart and the warm flush that danced across your skin.

The boisterous warbling of another spaceship captured your attention. Despite being smaller than Mando’s, it was distinctly louder. Just a few feet away from Mando's, it landed, and out stepped the most outlandish space pirate you've ever seen. It was the first alien pirate you'd ever seen, so there was that, but the entrance was very lackluster. 

“Tulip, come to me now!” Mando barked, unholstering his weapon and beckoning for you to come back inside to where he and the kid were.

The space pirate spotted you immediately and made a beeline for you. Your heart thumped against your rib cage as you tucked tail and ran back inside. 

Running from a goddamn space pirate wasn’t on your 2023 bingo card.

#please like comment and share 🫶🏾 #din darjin #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x black reader #black reader #black reader insert #pe2023 #din djarin reader insert #din djarin x f!reader #pedro pascal x reader

[soft-persephone]

Scattered Promises 3

Din Djarin x Fem!OriginalCharacter

Rating: Mature // MDNI // WC: 1.2k // warnings: violence, fighting, sexual tension // masterlist // AN: I always write with black women in mind, but remember! Anyone can read it!! // Ch.2. // Ch.4. //

Amiyra hadn’t seen much of Din after her arrival. She stayed one night at the palace until Paz came and opened up his home to her. It had more to do with Penny asking if Amiyra knew any better, but she wasn’t going to bring it up because it would definitely cause another fight, so she only told them it was temporary until she was settled and found a place just for her and the kids. 

Sammy went to some sort of community child group. She called it a daycare, but that got her several hard stairs and a firm, ‘ it isn’t”. 

She made sure not to make that mistake again. 

Jasmine was much older, so she was doing so many things. . .violent things.

She tried no to think about it.

Different cultures have different customs, different rituals, different beliefs and religions, and violence was a part of theirs. Or is it rooted in a love for armor and weaponry? Perhaps an origin of a warrior people. 

All of the above most likely. She listened to the history, but she’d rather just read about it. She knows the people they have teaching her throughout the day get tired of her constant questioning and berating  context. It got so bad that they had Din sent somethign from inside the wall. 

She trekked to the clearing in the deep forest past the willow tree and up the hill. She did not expect a ring of dirt formed through years of use from the many fights held in this area by the Mandalorians in training. There were a few wooden sheds that were worn with age but sturdy to last all these years for equipment as well a small one that served as a med bay, but it did not seem to get much use if anyone asked her about it. 

Mandalorians wouldn’t admit it, but Amiyra found them to be a proud people. They did not ask for much help and tended to push or persevere their way through everything, or at least that was the impression she got from the ones that lived in the village. She hadn’t met many within the city walls, but it was clear that they were different. 

“Change of plans,’ The mandalorian she was being trained by said, “it's not like you’ve never fought before in your life. It is clear you are a survivor.”

She nodded respectfully at his comment. Jamor was not a man of many words.

“Today we have a special warrior who has taken a personal interest in your ability to fight like all Mandalorians. He is brutal, but he comes from a time where we were at our worst as a people. We did not have our home as freely as we do now, and that meant we were in a constant war wherever we were.” he paused. “Children were raised to join that war as soon as possible.”

“I understand.”

He nodded. 

She did not need him to say anymore, and she respected his usual silence to ask him to stop. 

The last children of the great war were to be respected. It was one of the first rules she had learned in her new life in the village. 

She took her position in the center.

More people were here than usual. Most likely to see the new guest Jamor spoke of. He had to be the one who stood closest to the ring. He had an armor that was worn with time but taken care of, it was brown and slightly rusted. In some places it might have been painted over to hide the rust spots that were too bad.

The rest of the warriors gave him a respectful distance, but they stayed as close as possible, looking at the clearing. Still and silent.

It was the most excitable crowd of Mandalorians she had ever seen. 

“READY!” Jamor called out, he paused for a moment before crying out, ‘HUH!” 

Amiyra went low as usual.

Most people who were taller than her always attacked from above, using their size and strength against her so she tends to opt for speed and agility. She dashed and dogged her opponent's advances, lunging to the side, and jumping back.

Sliding past them at a moment's notice, she got the other woman off guard, letting Amiyra strike her at the neck with all her might causing her to lose her balance and fall. She scrambled upon her back and held her down with a knee refusing to let her up. 

Victory.

Everyone looked at the Mandalorian of honor. 

He stared at her for a moment. His helmet did not reveal anything  nor did his body language change. 

“Again.” he called out. 

And Amiyra fought another warrior, and then another, and then another. 

She was about to face her final opponent, but he stopped them, pulling them back by their shoulder. 

“I’ll do it.” he said through his modulator, grating her ears.

Most of her opponents were tall and strong today, but he was not as tall as they were. However, he was  still very big.

She wouldn’t underestimate him. 

As soon as Jamor called out the beginning of the battle, he was immediately upon her. 

She had no time to dodge, and had to immediately attack back. She was not as intimidated by his size, so she opted for a more offensive approach. 

He hit her ribcage, her shoulder, and barely missed her head. His kicks wee just as swift if not faster. After kicking her in the leg it took all her energy to lunge away from a swipe that had enough force to knock her off her feet. Each blow left a throbbing ache in her body.  If he could get one hit in, there were two more that followed it. She could not follow them, so she started to leave herself open on one side to take advantage of small moments to hit him back. 

She knew how insane it looked. But if she had to take a beating just for a sliver chance to fight back in any capacity, she would take it.

She heard him scoff and before she could react she was on the ground. 

Apparently he was holding back. The last blow was stronger than the rest, knocking her into the ground

He pounced on top of her. Rolling his hips with enough force to bounce her head onto the ground. Her teeth clattering with the impact.

Wrapping his hand around her neck, he brought his face closer to hers, “You favor fighting defensively, and it leaves you at a disadvantage. Learn to attack more, be active. ”

She made a choking sound in response and he tightened his grip. 

After a heartbeat, he let her go and walked away.

The crowd parted and watched him go.

Jamor grasped her arm, helping her up. 

He nodded at her. 

Jamor was one of the few mandalorians that still wore the traditional armor, but what she could gather from his body language she could tell he was proud.

She bowed back and made her way to make the same exit. 

Everyone gave her the same nod or even bowed at her. 

What the actual fuck.

She got her ass handed to her, and they were praising her for it. 

What a world.

“And I thought you couldn't get any stupider.”

“Paz!” Penny warned. “He’s still your king.”

“And who gives a shit when he spends his time doing this dumbassery! He could be using it to better our people!” He banged his fist on the table and stood up.

“We have to gather resources to settle the brewing civil war between two tribes before it reeks irreparable damage on our society all in the midst of preparing for an even bigger attack on our entire planet, but our king,”  he mocks, “decides to spend that time pining over a girl he just met!”

Din’s eye twitched for the second time this month alone. 

And without a word, he swiftly stood and gave Paz the hardest punch to the face with every fiber of strength in his body.

It was a low fucking blow, but when is it not when Paz is the receiver of such a hit.

He was annoying. 

Hed be surprised to discover Paz had ever had the grace to receive a hit that wasn’t.

It caught him off guard and he ran right into the wall.

“Don’t you two start this osik in my house!” Penny hissed before continuing in her worst slew of curses in Mandoa.

Neither apologized, but reluctantly stopped for her benefit. 

Din wanted to pounce on him until he bled, but he’ll wait. There was always time to beat the shit out a Paz. 

“Now Din, there are better ways to get the attention of a girl you like.”

Penny softly switched their newest born into her other arm, gently lifting her breast to let her eat. As their baby daughter closed her little eyes before letting out a coo and sucking on her breast with tiny content noises, she continued.

“And usually has the decency to be honest.”

Din ignored her scolding.

Amiyra had no idea she was the king of their people. She simply thought he worked for him like Paz.

He did not have the heart to tell her. Especially after she told him in confidence that she was not ready to face any higher authority of this planet after her talk with the Armorer which raised another issue.

What had they talked about? Why did the conversation leave her in such a state of distress?

“Amiyra. . .doesn't want anyone like that in her life. Putting on my old armor means I can get to know her without adding unneeded pressure to her life.”

Penny’s shoulders fell, pushed back, and dropped just slightly. 

“I’m in no position to tell you what to do,” she said thinly, “but I don’t think this  is going to end as well as you hope it will.” She sighed. 

“Honesty is always the best option but you’re grown man and how you handle this is your business.” 

“I’ll think about it.” 

Din may be stubborn but he wasn’t foolish. However, no one was taking into consideration how this was the best option for his sake. 

He didn’t need the whole court coming down on her and wreaking havoc in his life because he’s taking interest in her. Knowing them, they’d tried to usher them into marriage before the next moon cycle.

Amiyra’s life was in a delicate state.

She and her family are transitioning into a new way of life, and he was going to make sure it happened as naturally and peacefully as possible, and he wouldn’t be so selfish to let the personal stressors of his life get in the way of that. 

Why did no one else see that? 

#din djarin #the mandalorian #the Mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin x original female character #din djarin x reader #din djarin fanfiction #star wars #star wars fanfiction #din djarin x black reader #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x black reader

[marvelthottie]

Simple Life Pleasures

pairing: Din Djarin x Black Reader

rating: explicit(18+ mdni)

summary: Din was a simple man who enjoyed simple things, he didn’t expect how much he enjoyed being with you

warnings: Unprotected Sex

Din was a simple man, who enjoys simple life pleasures. He enjoyed taking care of Grogu, enjoyed cruising through space taking in the quietness, and he enjoyed having a drink in his favorite bar. Din exhausted after a recon mission with Greef, couldn’t help but to pack up him and Grogu’s things and flying to a little blue planet where he knew he could enjoy a little quiet for a while.

This little planet which held his favorite bar. He enjoyed seeing the small bar and he couldn’t help but enjoy seeing you there as well. It was almost as you read his mind, pouring his favorite drink in a glass before he took a seat on the left hand side of the bar away from the others. Din nodded his head in acknowledgment, eyes tracking you behind his helmet. It was strange, you always wore a black veil concealing the most intriguing part of you. Ironic he thought to himself, one who never takes off his helmet, wondering why you never unveil yourself. You were always covered in black long robes to match your veil, brown skin peeking at him whenever you brought over a drink. You intrigued him, and he knows your presence is one of the many reasons why he enjoys this place besides the mediocre liquor.

Din was simple man who enjoys simple life pleasures. This being one if them, you above him, riding him, chasing your own release. It was strange, him, pants just barely pulled down to reveal himself and you, nothing. Your bare face twisted with pleasure, your dark curls tied up foregoing your usual afro. Din enjoyed seeing you like this, a sick part of you enjoying that only he can see this side of you.

“Din,” you moaned, nails digging against his beskar, not leaving a mark or trace.

He groaned, as you twirled you hips, moving him deeper inside of you. One hand gripping your hips as the other played and twisted your brown nipples.

“Fuck , Din,” you whimpered out, I’m almost there.”

Din knew what you wanted, he thrusted up matching your pace. He relished in the way you let out a loud moan of his name. You were almost jelly in his arms, he grabbed you by your waist, holding you against him as he pounded into you mercilessly. You were close, broken calls of pleasure escape your lips, as he felt you shiver against him.

You froze, eyes rolling back as you screamed his name, rolling your hips to drag every last bit of your orgasm out.

Din felt you squeeze and gush around him, cumming a few thrust later, curse on his tongue.

Din was simple man who enjoys simple life pleasures but he couldn’t help the way he felt when he saw your expression as he got up to leave. You both never spoke about your unspoken thing, you never asking him to stay and Din knowing he never could.

“I have to get back to the child.” He said to the silence. You began dressing for the night, signature veil still no where in sight.

“When do you leave?” You hummed out, voice scratchy in need of something to drink.

“Tomorrow”

“ Can’t you stay the night?” You questioned, voice shying on the lines of needy maybe hopeful.

“I need to get to the child.” He repeats himself, to which you sigh as you climb back into bed settling down

He watched your turned back, sensing the conversation has ended, he closed the door behind himself. His armor felt 10x heavier as he walked himself up the path away from you home, away from you.

Din was simple man who enjoys simple life pleasures but he couldn’t help the way he felt when he saw the bounty puck, your face staring right back him.

————————

WHATTTTTT MANDO FANFICS

yes ma’am the lack of Din x Black Reader inserts is sad and i write what i would like to read so that’s basically what this is ☺️ self indulgent series 🤎

#din djarin #the mandolarian #black reader #black!fem!reader #black!reader #black!y/n #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x black reader

[dothedanceofdeath]

The President and I: Din Djarin X Original Black Reader AU

Summary: You are hired to write the biography of President Din Djarin of Mandalore - a job that turns out to be so much more than you could have imagined. A/N: AU, Age gap fic (19 years), Eventual Smut, Slow Burn, Political shenanigans, Pro-monarch resurgence, war-hero Din, writer reader Pairing: Din Djarin  x Black female reader 

I’ve had a fic percolating for a while and I think I might be ready to unleash it on the world.

Din Djarin is the brooding President of the small coastal European country of Mandalore. Reader is the a Pulitzer Poetry Prize winning writer who visits Mandalore when a young girl writes to her, asking her to attend her school’s version of a show and tell - she’s in a slump in her career and she really needed this validation okay. Reader is accosted by the presidential guard on her way home and asked to write the biography of President Din Djarin, whose stoic nature has turned him into an enigma that alienates him from his people.

Reader is hired to shadow President Din Djarin for three months and lemme tell you the slow is gonna be burning my babies. Both these idiots have walls up so high it’ll give you a nosebleed but Din the war hero and reader the depressed wreck are going to find each other amongst the interference of the Djarin Administration and the failed monarchy that seeks to regain power (Did someone say Bo-Katan cameo?).

Also, all the SMUT is coming. I personally love to hate a good slow burn but I really wanted to do something heady and substantial because there is not a lot of Pedro fanfic written for us Black femmes so I wanted to do it right.

A little taste of the fic below. Let me know what you think!

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“How are things going? Smoothly, I hope.” His tone was earnest. You couldn’t help but notice how he always ended his question with his preferred answer. You smile, wanting to seem amiable. It doesn’t reach your eyes.

“Yes. Smoothly.” You sigh and sits back in the chair dropping your gaze to the intricate engravings on the edge of the large wooden desk. Din nods, watching you closely.

“Is there anything else you need for the book?”

Your eyes shot up to his half listening, before you register the question and shake you head.

“Oh, no no. I think I have everything I need. The book will be readable, hopefully enjoyable. Everyone will be happy and we can all move on with our lives.”

Din’s expression is unreadable but he sits back in his chair.

“What do you mean by that?”

“By what?”

“Everyone will be happy… what does that mean?” He asks you, eyes never leaving yours. You catch a twitch of inquisition on his forehead before his face resumes its neutral stoicism. But his eyes. His dark brown orbs shine with his true curiosity. It felt like eavesdropping to even catch this tell of his. 

I really want to play poker with him. 

“Oh, uh… that everyone will be happy, last time I checked.”

You didn’t intend to be cheeky but you were well past the limit of your bullshit barometer to the point where observing decorum with an entire president just felt trite and unproductive. Din doesn’t move, eyes never leaving your face even though yours try to find any other focal point in the room. It’s so quiet, even for this time of night. You open your mouth to excuse yourself when he robs you of the chance by speaking.

“You do this writer thing where you say something, and mean something else. Stop it. Say what you mean.” He delivers evenly.

Your mouth drops in silent shock at his frank observation. The shock amplifies to the point where you laugh. You actually laugh out loud, boisterous and almost joyous. He can’t hide his confusion, but underneath it, he manages to conceal the awe that accompanies the warm bloom in his chest at the sound.

“Oh God” you huff out, trying to control your breathing. “Uhm... I mean isn’t that what you do as a politician?”

“Im not a politician.”

“Oh no, you’re just a freedom fighter turned president.”

The words hang in the air and you wish he would offer a retort so you wouldn’t have to pass the seconds realising how big of an asshole you just were. Din finally drops his gaze and you feel shit about it.

“Im sorry. I’m so sorry. Jesus, why do you let me speak to you like this?”

“Because I’m not a politician.”

That shuts you up. He never chose this. He was barely out of high school when he lost his entire family. A mere baby fighting someone else’s war. Although he sit across you, dark hair expertly disheveled and salt and pepper patchy facial hair doing things to you, you did not have the time to entertain right now, it was clear that this 47-year-old man still carried the hurts of the boy he used to be.

“You don’t owe me anything.” You offer. He raises his eyes to yours.

“You were 19, fighting on the frontlines of an impossible war the year I was born. You and your administration do not owe me shit.”

“But?”

You take a deep breath, weighing how far down this rabbit hole could still go before you actually pissed him off.

Fuck it.

#the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x black reader #din djarin x poc reader #au din djarin #pedro pascal #din djarin x you #din djarin fanfiction #mandalorian fanfic #black girl nerds #black pedro pascal fans

[aphrcdites]

the bond between a girl and their favorite fictional man is both an unstoppable force and an immovable object

#remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #james potter #james potter x reader #sirius black #sirius black x reader #the marauders #poe dameron #poe dameron x reader #din djarin #din djarin x reader #peter parker #peter parker x reader #joel miller #joel miller x reader #star wars x reader #anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker x reader #marvel x reader #tlou x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader

[cinnamoodles]

smut is great but do you know what’s better? heart wrenching, soul twisting angst that makes you want to cry (take my money)

#spencer reid x reader #jason todd x reader #anthony bridgerton x reader #james potter x reader #sirius black x reader #kaz brekker x reader #kageyama x reader #cedric diggory x reader #daryl dixon x reader #dick grayson x reader #din djarin x reader #steve harrington x reader #azriel x reader #john price x reader #jake seresin x reader #charles leclerc x reader #chris evans x reader #homelander x reader

[moonlitdesertdreams]

Too Sweet

A/N: Hi friends. I haven't written anything in a while, as I've been tussling with my mental health and raging SAD from the weather near me. Please accept this Mandalorian drabble? Rambling? Takes place between the end of season two and Din's appearance in the Book of Boba Fett. Tags: The Mandalorian, Mandalorian x Reader, Din Djarin x Reader, Mandalorian x F!Reader, Apostate!Din WARNINGS: None Summary: You've been a safe place for Din Djarin for years. He comes to you at his most vulnerable, but always has to leave before you're ready. Title inspired by the Hozier song of the same name.

Word count: 1.6k+

Hours later, you’re still in shock.

Din Djarin is in bed next to you, sans helmet.

It wasn’t unusual for him to be in your home- hell, it would be more unusual for him not to be there between jobs. Your Mandalorian had spent years visiting, hovering somewhere in between a lover and a partner. He shows up in the afternoon one day, and is gone early in the morning before you wake. When he returns, beaten and bruised, you chastise him for leaving without saying goodbye. The routine was comfortable. Familiar. 

Except every other time he had been there, you had never seen his face. 

It feels like a dance each time he comes. You tend to his wounds quickly but gently, lathering cuts and bruises in bacta before wrapping bandages or slings where necessary to let the medication heal. Once you’ve played nurse, Din secludes himself to your study to eat dinner. And each time, without fail, he leads you to the bedroom to extinguish the fireplace and blow out your candles. His hands find your body, and he ravishes you in the darkness. 

Key word being darkness.

Today was the same song and dance. He’d limped into your cabin without greeting, shaking snow from his armored body and settling himself into a kitchen chair while you fussed. A tube of bacta and half a roll of bandages later, he silently trudged away to eat in the study. There was a distinct lack of little green child with him today, which was a major concern after the past year. You suspected it had something to do with the oppressive sense of sorrow following him through the house. So you carried on with your usual routine, asking little to no questions. It wasn’t until he’d crowded you up against the sink, bowl still in your grip as you rinsed it, that he spoke. 

“Mesh’la.”

Strong arms wrapped themselves around your waist, and you leaned back into an unarmored chest. In hindsight, you chastised yourself for not noticing the words lacked the electrical buzz of a vocoder. 

“Din.” You returned.

He only grunts, right hand gliding up your side. It grips your shoulder, and presses until you turn to face him, bowl still gripped in your damp fingers. 

“You know, words are- Din!”

The porcelain bowl shattered as it collided with the kitchen floor. You’d dropped it out of pure instinct, hands flying up to cover your eyes. As much as you’d tried to forget what you saw, it was burned into your brain. Wavy hair, long nose with a scar crossing the bridge of it. Big, brown eyes that couldn’t possibly belong to someone so stern and ruthless. It flashes across your mind, and you almost tear up at the thought of Din breaking his Creed after all these years. 

But he’d pulled your hands away and explained - while your eyes are still pinched closed- that he was an apostate. The Child was returned to his own people, but at the cost of Din’s Creed. It had taken minutes of coaxing and reassurance, but you’d opened your eyes and cursed the universe for being so cruel as to hide such a face. From the set of his brow to the nervous biting of his lip, you basked in seeing so much bare skin. It took less time for him to attach his lips to yours and lead you out of the kitchen.

He’d taken you to bed, and now here you sit. 

Your room isn’t anything special. Quaint and cozy if nothing else, with two small windows that face out over the mountain’s edge. A fireplace flickers opposite the bed, its warmth trickling out to the sheets and heating your toes. Two bookshelves border either side of your headboard, with a nightstand tucked on Din’s side of the bed. On it, the usually extinguished candles burn bright. 

The firelight flickers against Din’s tan skin, highlighting each bead of sweat and curled tendril of hair where it sticks to his forehead. He’s naked, back propped against the headboard and covered in a maroon sheet from the waist down. You’ve donned a short silk robe, black and bordered with laces where it plunges between your breasts. You lay between his legs above the sheets, head on his chest. One of his large hands caresses your scalp and trails to the ends of your hair. The other hand is occupied by a half-full glass of old Corellian whiskey. 

You trace a line of yellow bruises on his hip where they extend below the sheet on his lap. 

“What happened to you?”

His chest rumbles. “I fought an Imperial Moff. And Imperial battle droids.”

Your eyes widen, and you sit up. Din’s hand leaves your hair to grasp at your waist, pulling you to face him.

“Stars, Din.” You reach out to touch a patch of black and blue skin over his collarbone. “No wonder you’re so beat up. I’ll get you some more bacta before we go to sleep.”

He lifts your fingers from his collarbone to his mouth, kissing each fingertip. “You’re too good to me, cyar’ika.”

“You deserve it.” Is your instant reply. 

If there was anything you knew about Din, it was that he never quite comprehended the good he brought to the world. 

The Mandalorian brings the whiskey to his lips and takes a swig. You opt to push an errant curl behind his ear. 

“I’m not a good man,” Your name falls off his tongue like honey. “Spent my whole life as kyramud.” 

You tilt your head at the Mando’a. He’d called you some pet names for years- mesh’la, cyar’ika. But this… kyramud was new. Without his helmet, hearing anything out of his mouth was like a drug. But Mando’a warmed you to the core, building off Din’s comfort and fondness when he spoke the ancient tongue. You yearned to know more. 

“Teach me Mando’a.” You kiss him gently, tasting the whiskey where it lingers on his lips. “So I can tell you why you deserve every bit of kindness.”

Din adjusts your legs so you’re sitting square between his, rear end on the bed and legs straddling his waist. He props you up with the ridiculous amount of pillows lying around. 

“I’ll teach you anything you want.” Din strokes your knee. “Where do I start?”

You chew on your bottom lip. “What am I to you?”

“Ner cyare.” He pauses, debating. The whiskey makes another appearance, and you’re distracted by his Adam's apple bobbing deliciously in the column of his throat. “Naysol uj par ni. Each day I see you is aay’han.”

“What does that mean?”

Din tilts your chin up. “My beloved. Too sweet for me.”

You blush. “What about the end? Ay-hen?”

“Aay’han. Mourning and joy. At the same time.” He finishes the whiskey. “I mourn when I leave you here.”

Much to your annoyance, tears prick your eyes at the reminder that when you closed them, he would be gone before you woke. “Don’t remind me. Please.”

Din leans forward to capture your lips with his. The sensation only serves to make the stinging behind your eyes worse, and a single tear drips down your cheek. He’s quick to kiss it away, large hand curling into your hair. You climb all the way into his lap, suddenly desperate for closeness. His skin is hot and damp, and you’ve never felt anything better. 

“Ni ceta. I never meant to hurt you.”

You sniffle against his neck. “Just promise me you’ll say goodbye from now on.”

He wets two fingers with his tongue and extinguishes the candles before cradling you in strong arms. Two words are murmured into your hair, quiet but sound.  

“I promise.”

You grip him tighter than ever, warmth sadly fading as the dread of morning envelopes you. 

*

The reflection of daylight off snow-covered ground wakes you. 

It bounces in your windows, bathing the room in cool white light. You blink slowly, a heaviness settled on all of your limbs. It’s a familiar soreness that aches from your shoulders to between your legs, dredging up memories of the night before. Din’s bare face, and all the sweet words in Mando’a that he tried to teach you before you remembered he can never stay as long as you’d like. You sigh, letting one of your arms dangle off the edge of the bed. The thought of turning over and seeing the candles, thinking about him blowing them out on each visit was too fresh. It’s easier to lay and stew in your sadness, watching fluffy flakes of snow fall. The clock on your wall reads ‘1457’, another unintentional reminder of your late-night escapades.

You hate to admit that the feeling makes you tear up again. So you lay in bed, curled beneath a thick comforter while the fireplace crackles its last few breaths towards your feet. It’s easier to stare at the snow than it is to close your eyes and think about Din. 

“Damn it.” You breathe. 

“What are you damning?”

You swear that you stop breathing for a moment. Despite the fact that he had already spoken, you ask aloud, “Din?”

The sounds of bare feet padding across the floor nears, and the Mandalorian appears in your vision. Barefoot and clad only in a pair of loose gray lounge pants that tighten at his ankles. His abdomen is without cover, displaying an array of healing bruises and deep scars. You sit up, letting your feet hang off the bed. 

“You’re still here?” You look at the clock again. “At 1500?”

Din smiles, kneeling in front of you. He presses a mug of steaming Caf into your hands and a kiss to your forehead. 

“If it’s alright with you… I might be for a while.”

It’s your turn to smile as he smoothes away your bedhead. 

“No arguments.” You sip at the warm mug. “I’ll keep taking my Caf in bed, though.”

___________________________________________________

As always, if you enjoy please like/reblog and check out my links for more :)

Masterlist | Send me ideas

#The Mandalorian #Mandalorian x Reader #Din Djarin x Reader #Mandalorian x F!Reader #Apostate!Din #grogu #baby yoda #mando'a #mando x reader #mando x you #din djarin x you #din djarin #too sweet #hozier #din likes his whiskey neat #and his coffee black

[spacecowboyhotch]

Ambrosial

summary: he knows your scent— he knows your heart and now he knows your people.

pairing: din djarin x fem!black!reader

contents: longing, pining, fluff, cultural differences

wc: 2.5k

an: this has been a longggggg time coming but this one's for you @cptn-nash and for all of the black women who feel left out of fandom. there’s always space for you.

pedro characters masterlist

The crest always smells like citrus with a hint of cinnamon these days. If Din closes his eyes he can imagine himself standing in an orchard with you by his side.

The warm, fresh smell is all thanks to you— to your hair, your people, and your culture. All things that you hold close to your heart and in turn, Din tries to respect. But, it is not lost on you that he cannot understand the importance of hair to you and your culture completely, not when his is hidden inside of a helmet day in and day out.

What he does know is how much he enjoys yours— watching the way your curls move when you walk, how they pile into the crown when you tie them up, how a bit of them spill out of the silk scarf you wear at night when Grogu refuses to sleep without you and the two of you take over his bed. He has to tear himself away from the sight of you—dark skin lit up in the moonlight and his foundling in his arms— slinking off to your bunk. But there is a reward when he gets there— the sweet, concentrated scent of you rests on the fabric of your pillow.

In the deepest recesses of his mind, there’s a place where there’s just the three of you. Din holds to his creed, unwaveringly so, but here there is no worry of exile. No worry that you or Grogu will be taken away from him on one of your adventures through the galaxy. There is just you, holding his son, curls blowing in some light evening breeze. There is just him, wrapping his arms around the both of you, his nose pressed into the crown of your head as he is able to succumb freely to your scent. He doesn’t let himself go there often, not when he is so unsure that he will ever have it.

The two of you are charted for a bounty when you ask him to make a detour that is quite out of the way— you need something for your hair. And while he’s more than happy to make sure your needs are met, he has to ask.

He glances back at you, his voice soft and not unkind as he asks, “Could you not use my things?”

If you didn’t share the fresher with him you doubt he even had things. He does, though they aren’t as intricate as yours. There are worse things than smelling like the Mandalorian, yes but proper hair care is sacred to you and your people.

You smile at him, shaking your head, “No, it doesn’t work like that. There are specifics, rituals, ingredients.”

“And it is…strict? Necessary?” You can practically hear the confusion in his voice, his lack of understanding.

“As necessary as this,” You murmur, leaning forward and raising a hand to cup the cheek of his helmet.

He blushes within the space of his helmet, unable to bite away the grin that spreads across his face. You and Din teeter on the edge of more— never explicitly naming or acknowledging any of the affection that passes between you, but undoubtedly knowing that the other is devoted. There’s something particularly sweet about his dedication without words. There is no doubt in your mind that he cares for you, but with this lifestyle, with his creed, neither of you make any move to change your relationship.

This is enough. It has to be.

When the silence sits thick between you for a beat too long, you start to ramble, “Like I told you before, hair is integral to our culture, it helps build every facet of relationships in my village. It sounds silly, but it's the basis of community. We would not be nearly as devoted to each other without hair at the center.”

He hums, delicately taking one of your curls in between his fingers. He studies it closely through the dark t of his visor, noticing the intricate way that it spirals. You let out a soft, shaky breath– feeling his eyes on you is something you’ve become used to, but the effect it has on you never dissipates.

“I could show you,” You murmur shyly, feeling the fascination in his gaze.

“Show me?” He repeats cautiously.

“Show you how my momma taught me to take care of it,” You suggest. After a moment of hesitation, you add, “Show you my home as you’ve shown me yours.”

The two of you have gone to Mandalore—just once, to show Grogu what should be his home and collect water from the sacred waters. You’ve always tried not to put too much stock in Din letting you tag along— where else were you meant to go if you’re his travel partner?

His helmet tilts, shock in his sandy voice, “You would take me to your home?”

You gaze with the black void of his visor breaks for a moment before you look up at him through your lashes, “Of course I would, so that you could see where I come from, how I’ve become who I am. You let me see yours. Would you like to see?”

He nods, finally releasing the curl that he was still holding between his fingers.

“Chart the course and then I will show you why I take so long in the fresher,” You say, backing out of the cockpit.

He meets you there just as you finish turning everything the correct way, labels up. You keep it all in a bin that you take to and from the fresher, not wanting to take up too much space.

You can’t see his shock but you can hear it in voice, in the way he tilts his helmet as he says, “This is…a lot.”

You laugh softly, before explaining, pointing at various bottles as you do, “There are different products for different times of year, holidays, special occasions.”

“Special occasions?”

“For one’s birthday or wedding. Even for a funeral. All milestones in life, from beginning to end.”

“And you must have all of it at all times?”

“You are to be prepared for all of the days of your and your neighbor’s life. If we were to meet someone from home during our travel and they were in need of something, then its my duty to help. It is our custom. Our way so to speak.”

Din hums in understanding. He understands living life a certain way more than anyone you’ve ever known. He starts to understand the importance— but this is just the beginning. He wants to know everything about your people, to fuse the two of your cultures into something loving and uniquely your own.

—

It takes the night to make it to your home, allowing you to arrive in the morning. You’d sent a communication to your mother as soon as Din had agreed, and she had excitedly responded, eager to see you after such a long stint away. Eager to meet Din, though you’d given her no indication that things had progressed romantically between the two of you.

When you wake in the morning, you find Din a little nervous to have the conversation that made you toss and turn most of the night. You know that he’s quite fond of Grogu, that he loves him with all his heart. You feel the same way, happy to take care of the little creature in any way that you can. It’s a bit confusing, raising a child with Din despite not knowing explicitly what you are. But, you love Grogu. Though you don’t let yourself think about it much, you love Din. You’d do whatever you could to make things easier for the two of them.

But what would your mother think about such an arrangement?

Din tilts his head at you in concern when you inhale a nervous breath, fingers twisting in your lap. He reaches for your hands, steadying them. “What’s wrong? Have you changed your mind?”

You gaze down at his gloved hand that covers nearly both of yours before you shake your head, assuring him quickly, “No, no, I haven’t changed my mind.”

“Then what is it?” He asks gently.

“I know that Grogu is yours, and I’m not ashamed or embarrassed. But, I think it best he stays on the ship while we visit my mother. I don’t want her to assume anything that would make you uncomfortable.”

He’s quiet for a moment, but you can practically hear the gears turning in his head. “You were nervous to ask me this.”

You snort, “He’s your son, Din, of course I was nervous.”

“I understand,” He says, squeezing your hand in reassurance. “The next visit, we can introduce him to your mother.”

The next visit. He plans to make this habitual?

“You’re sure?”

“It’s your home. I’m sure if you’re sure,” He declares with a shrug. As if the decision is that easy for him.

“Thank you, Din.”

He simply squeezes your hand again before clearing his throat, saying that he needs to make sure Grogu is taken care of before you two land.

—

When the ship door opens, you and Din are met with a plethora of people, headed up by your mother. Din can’t help but notice how much of her is in you— the same rich color of your skin, the curls though they are greying. Some of your beauty comes from her, and some of it is uniquely you.

She gathers you into her arms immediately, hugging you tightly. She guides your curls back so that her lips are at the shell of your ear, “We’ve missed you. I’ve missed you.”

“I know, mama. I’ve missed you too,” You whisper back, pulling back to give you a watery smile.

She turns her curious gaze to Din, looking him up and down. “This is who you’ve been traveling with. A Mandalorian who will keep you safe.”

Din nods his head, and you about melt with embarrassment at the way she’s sizing him up.

“Yes, mama, this is Mando. He is my—“ You start to say but Din cuts you off smoothly, extending his hand to your mother.

“Her partner. Din, Din is my name,” He murmurs, taking her hands into his.

The smile on your mother’s face matches your own— wide, flustered and accompanied by warmth that spreads through your entire body. He may be encased in metal but he can always make a woman swoon.

“Din. Thank you for taking care of my daughter.”

“Mama,” You scold, giving Din a nervous smile.

“It’s a pleasure,” He murmurs to her, his voice just as sandy and nonchalant as ever.

Your mother starts to guide you towards the villages, and Din offers you his arm which you take readily. You’re happy to walk in silence as your mother catches you up on all the happenings— who’s married, given birth, changed professions, or died. All of it goes in one ear and out the other as you try to digest what’s just happened.

He gave her his name. What more is to come?

Eventually, the two of you are sequestered in a corner of your mother’s house as she helps another woman with her hair when Din turns to look at you. You raise a brow at him in question.

He leans closer to you, speaking in a hushed voice, “One day you will teach me to care for my own appropriately.”

“What do you mean?” You whisper back.

You feel his gaze meet yours through his helmet as he says, “When you are truly mine and I am truly yours.”

Your heart skips a beat before pounding rapidly in your chest. You stare into the dark t of his visor, mouth open in shock. He’s full of declarations today, ones that you had hoped would be true but never got your hopes up for. He simply nods his head at you, one of his gloved hands coming to tangle with your own.

Meeting your mother has clearly changed things— all that’s been left unsaid is now cleared up with just a single sentence from him.

His hand doesn’t leave yours as your mother shows him around the village, introducing him as your partner to everyone she can get to speak to her. Din feels a little sheepish, heat creeping into his cheeks by your mothers candidness, by the curious stares of those she speaks to. You keep him close, answering any questions and doing all of the talking if anyone is curious enough to bypass your mother and speak to the two of you.

You don’t even let go to hug those you recognize, holding onto his hand firmly as you wrap an arm around a few of those you encounter. At this, Din’s flush deepens, butterflies in his stomach.

You make him feel like just a man— the most ordinary man in the best way— like he isn’t bound to his creed or this life of hunting. You make him feel like he’s just your Din. A man so desperately in love with a woman that he’d do anything she asked and then some.

Your mother sends you home with droves of oils and butters and soaps. Some of them are for you, but by the labeling and color you can tell that many of them are for Din. There’s a variety, as with the helmet she couldn’t properly see the texture of his hair and gather the corresponding products. It’s your mother’s way of telling you she approves and you hold her tight, murmuring a soft thank you as you bid her goodbye.

The two of you unpack Din’s things, setting the bottles and containers up in a perfect line. You even fetch your own, adding more clutter that both of you are immediately quite fond of. It means more than Din could know, but he’s starting to learn.

He invites you into his bed that night and unlike all of the previous times he stays, gathering you into his arms in the pitch-black space. For the first time, you feel him. He buries his nose into your hair the way he’s always dreamed about.

That night once you’re asleep, Din heads to the fresher, curious about all of the things your mother had sent off with the both of you. You spent a lot of time here earlier— even more than usual. As soon as he’s inside, he sees why. You’ve labeled everything step by step and added his name to the products that are his.

He spends an ungodly amount of time under the water, closing his eyes as he succumbs to the sweet smells. And though they all smell wonderful, he finds himself reaching for your things. He wants to be surrounded by your scent.

When he slides under the covers beside you later, he smells like citrus— that telltale hint of cinnamon. He smells like you. One day, he’ll let you bury your nose in his hair so that you can smell him too. Until then, his helmet is filled with the scent of you and he will have it no other way.

#din djarin x black!reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x fem!reader #mando x black!reader #mando x reader #mando x fem!reader #black!reader #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin fluff #the mandalorian fanfiction #arson writes

[elorday]

— ✦ valerie's march fic recs

thank you so much for all of these writers for making me smiling with a lots of butterflies in my stomach, making my mouth hanging agape, or crying so hard and sweating hot. i really can't thank you enough<3

⟡. THE LAST OF US —

⭒ — JOEL MILLER

matchmaker : @quin-ns

domesticity looks good on you : @girlscull

once again in your arms : @foli-vora

a helping hand : @bubbles-for-all-of-us

she's a gun : @cowgurrrl

your smile! : @starpdfs

⟡. MARAUDERS ERA —

⭒ — REGULUS BLACK

annonated book and sleek hardcovers : @messers-moony

his last letter : @timmys-angel

hidden messages in foreign language : @specialbrewbutterbeer

⭒ — REMUS LUPIN

ivy : @enviedear

too much to drink : @nectarcfthegcds

the girl with a book : @solemnarration

heavy handed : @luveline

⟡. GRISHAVERSE —

⭒ — KAZ BREKKER

call me what you like : @sophierequests

buoy : @yelenasbraid

flowers : @violetrainbow412-blog

⭒ — JESPER FAHEY

not what it looks like : @magpiencrow

i hate you : @heathsbitch

⭒ — NIKOLAI LANTSOV

nightmares and enemies : @corpsebasil

in passing : @ell0ra-br3kk3r-writes

a special occasion : @holden-caulfield

the art of pretension : @fleurspun

⟡. MARVEL —

⭒ — MATT MURDOCK

trial tardiness : @alrighty-matty

the matter of opinion : @courtforshort15

it's really... yellow : @pastafossa

finger crossed : @petertingle-yipyip

in another life : @saintmurd0ck

five years : @darling-i-read-it

⭒ — STEPHEN STRANGE

last name : @parkersbliss

slow down : @dre--scape

⭒ — PETER PARKER

the inevitable : @starktonyx

burnt face and second base : @waitimcomingtoo

the forgotten child : @friendlyneighborhoods-spiderman

⟡. STRANGER THINGS —

⭒ — STEVE HARRINGTON

next best thing happen to an angel : @slashersteve

nine facts, one lie : @stevebabey

don't you forget about me : @starberryes

⟡. HOUSE OF THE DRAGON —

⭒ — AEGON II TARGARYEN

the summer islands : @fairysluna

someone, anyone : @asongofmarvelanddc

good grief : @elliewlums

firstborn : @archiveofthe-dragon

⟡. BRIDGERTON —

⭒ — BENEDICT BRIDGERTON

to be loved and to be in love : @desertno3

it is just tea : @leahsficemporium

⭒ — ANTHONY BRIDGERTON

it's a bad idea, me and you : @genyakosstyk

five senses of love : @libraryofloveletters

⟡. STAR WARS —

⭒ — POE DAMERON

the f-word : @the-little-ewok

one kiss : @starryeyedstories

⭒ — DIN DJARIN

fix you : @roguetonorth

just call my name : @prettypiscesgal

softer : @thatredheadwriter

#✭: valerie's monthly recommendations #joel miller x reader #regulus black x reader #remus lupin x reader #kaz brekker x reader #jesper fahey x reader #nikolai lantsov x reader #matt murdock x reader #stephen strange x reader #peter parker x reader #steve harrington x reader #aegon ii targaryen x reader #benedict bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton x reader #poe dameron x reader #din djarin x reader #valerie's recs —

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

let’s go to a greek island because three men are in love with us and celebrate 5k

thank you all so so so much for 5000 followers! that is a super crazy number. like, wow. thank you all so much for being here, for reading my silly little stories and for always being so kind. I am unbelievably grateful for you all. this time will be a tiny bit different. not only will I hold a regular, fun celebration (this time in a mamma mia theme because why not? it's summer, it's fun) but I also just so happen to finish writing a story that I've been actively working on since january and thought that since I put so much love and time into it, it seemed fitting to share it as a part of this amazing celebration. here is a little schedule of when I'll be posting them, they are long and one hell of a read, I really hope you all like them ♡

friday (14/07) at 18:00 (CEST) - the murder at evergreen university

sunday (16/07) at 18:00 (CEST) - sour summer (an evergreen prequel)

this celebration will run from now till the 16 of july. anyone can participate and you can send in as many asks as you’d like, there is no limit.

if you need some prompts as Inspo for the request options, then try and click around on my sideblog @prompt-heaven where I keep a bunch of prompt lists very organised.

navigation | masterlist | request guidelines

fernando - games! (cast your mutuals, fuck marry kill, would you rather…)

lay all your love on me - tell me a random fact about yourself and I’ll say who I ship you with!

super trouper - i’ll give you an abba song that has your vibe!

angel eyes - send me a sfw request!

kisses of fire - send me a nsfw request!

when I kissed the teacher - request a moodboard! (it can be for a character, a prompt, word, name, colour or ask me to make one that fits the vibe of your blog) 

moots: @ddejavvu @oncasette @fightingdragonswithwho @angelulls @fxllfaiiry @prettyboyeddiemunson @cosmal @creelteeth @spencersfunkysocks @reidslovely @happyheidi @wonderlandhatter @spideyheart @appocalipse @skullrock @starlit-moonlight @chvoswxtch @lone-nyctophile @autumneverleigh @lanadelreyscokewhor3 @bruisedboys @midniteluv @solarluvs @ghostlyfleur @bcyhoods @vhagarlovebot @bradshawed @mystcldydrms @songs4themoon @katyswrites @strrawberrryjam @inkluvs

#5k celebration #milestone celebration #lea’s writing #steve harrington x reader #eddie munson x reader #peter parker x reader #frank castle x reader #bucky barnes x reader #matt murdock x reader #joel miller x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #din djarin x reader #steve rogers x reader #james potter x reader #sirius black x reader #remus lupin x reader #spencer reid x reader #the mandalorian x reader #curtis everett x reader #ransom drysdale x reader #ari levinson x reader #lloyd hansen x reader #frank adler x reader #jake jensen x reader #rafe cameron x reader #the darkling x reader

[soft-persephone]

Scattered Promises 4

Rating:M // MDNI // WC: 4-1k // Warnings: mature themes , sex // masterlist // AN: Here’s Chapter 4!! I almost forgot to post this! I hope you guys enjoy it! This chapter was a such a doozy to write and I’m finally done with it!! Now we can get to the meatier parts of the story!! // Three //

Ready Jazzy?”

Amiyra picked up Sammy and grabbed his little stuffed fish she made for him within the first year they were in each other’s lives. He was obsessed with the stuffed octopus you made him for his second birthday, but someone in the children's care thing was constantly taking his octopus and roughing it up or refusing to give it back.

The situation was disparaging if anyone asked you, but to the Madalorians, children are encouraged to settle their own affairs. According to them, Sammy would have to learn to be more aggressive and start standing up for himself regardless of only being 2 and a half years in age.

“I got everything!” Jazzy smiled, proudly showing off her new dagger.

“Alright, lets go.”

Amiyra grabbed her two large wicker baskets, and maneuvered the straps the best way she could without dropping Sammy.

Helping the morning harvesters was her own way of being involved in the community. If there was anything she learned in her upbringing on her homeworld, it was the importance of community. Learning the language and becoming a better fighter was not enough in itself. By doing her part without being asked and positioning herself as a worker, she would gain their respect.

Descending the steps, she swore as one broke on her way down.

Their new place was not as big as the one they stayed in with Paz and Penny, but with a few rough repairs, and perhaps an entire renovation for the front porch, they'd be set. The wood was aged, but it was still sturdy. Only a few places here and there needed some replacing.

Jazzy scoffed loudly.

Amiyra was about to ask why she was so upset, but upon looking up, she smiled.

The well worn armor of Ben was there.

He might beat her half to death every morning, but she grew a fondness for him. He was easy to talk to, genuine, and reliable. No matter how much time they spent together it didn’t seem like enough.

“Let me carry the baskets.” he mumbled softly.

“There's no need to lower your voice.” She smiled into his helmet, “he can sleep through anything.”

“I'd rather not risk it. He can be quite demanding with his desires for attention.” He picked up a stray loc of her hair and placed it behind her shoulder, “I have something else I'd like to focus on before the sun comes up.”

She didn’t say anything in response, nor did she have to. Before his hand left her face entirely she leaned into his leather covered hand, savoring the warmth that lay beneath them.

“Ahem.” Jazzy frowned. “I have somewhere to be today, and I don’t want to be late.

Amiyra gave Ben an apologetic smile and they made their way to the edge of the village where the training woods were.

“Today is a big day for you Jasmine.” Din got down on one knee in front of her, clasping her shoulders. “There's no doubt in my mind you will be the fiercest warrior during your trial and come back home in no time, but don't underestimate anyone and always watch your back.”

He handed her a shoulder length blade. Not yet a sword and not yet a dagger.

Jasmine’s eyes lit up and she gave him a genuine smile for the first time.

“Thank you.”

“Don't thank me adika until it saves your life and brings you back home.”

They walked in peaceful bliss.

Her daughter had an even newer, longer, and more dangerous pointy weapon to hold up her spirits. That, Amiyra would bring herself to come to terms with one day. She was still grappling with the Mandalorian customs of what is an appropriate age to introduce your children to violence.

In the clearing of the village, several other parents were lingering around with their children, saying their final goodbyes.

She sighed.

“Stay strong Jazzy.” She kneeled and placed her forehead on top of hers, “come back home.”

“Come back home, first.” Ben said firmly and nodded down at her.

And with no attitude, no sigh, or smart remark, Jazzy nodded at him back up at him with an equal amount of seriousness.

He put a hand on her shoulder. No pat, no fuss.

If she wasn’t so freaked out by this tradition of sending your child off into some unknown dangerous free for all battle with other children. She might have lingered on how big of a moment this was for them.

Breaking the tender touch Jazzy proudly marched off to the edge of the woods with the other children she’d be facing her trial with. Jasmine was not the biggest or strongest kid of her class, but from what she’s observed she’s surely the fiercest.

Maker, let her come home first.

“She’ll come home first.” Din murmured in her ear, placing his hand on the small of her back. “With you as a mother, I'm sure she gets her fierceness and determination from you.”

“Maker, let's hope so.”

Din nudged her with a hip and took Sammy out of her arms.

“You go ahead with the harvesters. I’ll drop him off at school.”

“See you tonight.”

“See you tonight.” she said back softly. Tenderly watching them until they were no more than a speck of dust.

Walking her way with the rest of the basket carriers, she was welcomed with a lot of suggestive stares peaking above their face coverings. They’re eyes all shined with a knowing looks of amusement.

“What's with all the looks?”

“Since when did you and Ben become so close?” Someone asked.

Amiyra sighed, holding back a smile.

Today was going to be a long day.

_______

“What are you doing?” Paz asked Din out of nowhere, considerably more calm than he once was now that his family is back together. The question could be taken as an inconspicuous notion, an everyday occurrence from an acquaintance.

Except nothing about Dins life was inconspicuous or an everyday occurrence.

One could dream, right?

He picked up Grogu and made his way through high, grand corridors. The steely grey blue tinted walls glowed in the sunlight. The flickering reflections from the sun suspended them in an artificial space similar to the one above.

“What I want,” he half joked.

Paz’s bushy brows knitted together over glaring eyes. The dark blue cloth that covered his nose and mouth tightened around his face.

He mainly wore his armor when he was going off world or when he was need in battle, any other time it would only be a power status thing, and he wasn’t interested in anything like that. When he wasn’t needed in battle he’d gladly wear his blues in cloth for a while with a face covering to spend time with his wife and children.

Din looked away and kept his brisk pace.

A joke, but it was not. No one was laughing.

“You're not going to do anything to hurt this girl or her children! I forbid it!” Paz hissed so his voice wouldn’t carry against the walls.

So much for being calmer than usual.

“I’m not hurting anyone.” Din pursed his lips under his helmet. He wasn’t exactly sure of what he was doing. . .well. . .that's a lie. He knew exactly what he was doing. He was keeping his private affairs and his kingly affairs separate. To protect him and Grogu as well as Amiyra and her family.

“I am not harming her or her children!” Din spun around and muttered into Paz’s face. “She. . .she comes from royalty,” he took a moment to lower his voioce. Sound carries adn who knows who might be listening in these halls, “and you know what they would make her do once they found out. What I would be forced to do if they found out about the both of us and what we might mean to each other.”

Paz huffed and stepped back.

Din turned away from Paz’s silence.

He would have preferred for him to yell, to start a fight even. Silence meant that he was right, and Din did not want to be right.

“Your, highness.” Bo Katan bowed her head slightly.

Din halfheartedly nodded back before setting Grogu down to go into the room before he did to get settled.

“Your majesty,” she addressed Grogu as he tottled inside.

He babbled in response.

“Fett is here as well as a few other important figures to discuss Axe Woves.”

Din grimaced.

Today was going to be a long day.

______

Today was such a beautiful day.

There was something about this system's sun shining down on you and your feet in ankle high water, collecting the versatile green plant and the stalk it grew on. The greens could either be sweet or bitter, but both were suitable to be added to any dish, stew, or stir fry. The stalk could be patted dry and laid out on a flat surface to be made into baskets or anything else of use that could be made. It was like straw but sturdier, more reliable, and durable.

Despite everything else going on that was making her anxious, the sun was high and the sky was clear. While Ben complained that helping with the harvest was a mindless or tedious task that made him feel useless. That his talents were being wanted away with the hours someone could spend out there.

But it wasn’t that at all.

The harvest was one of the most essential parts of a functioning society. It was being a part of something larger than yourself. In some nations it was about a way of life. The land called out to some people. They wanted nothing more than to grow something, provide something not only to themselves, but also for so many others who may need it. They wanted a simple life dictated by the weather and season on what to grow and when, with no input or demands from anyone or anything else.

They wanted honest work and to be paid for that work.

But aside from all the other grand and larger than life reasonings, it reminded her of home.

Her father only allowed her to work on a farm every now and then because it made the family look more relatable. He claimed it made the people more happy to have them as their rulers. But every now and then the ‘power’ over her life and what she represented became overwhelming, and when she wanted a break, she wanted to work on a farm and pretend to have a more simpler life. . .a life where she could control what happened.

“Adika!”

You were sure it meant child. You’ve heard Ben say call your children that word in rare tender moments.

At first it ruffled your feathers, but you soon learned it was a term of endearment similar to many cultures. It was the same word everyone older, particular women were fond of. It was a word used to refer to newcomers by a collective group or culture to highlight your inexperience amongst them. . . but in a kind way.

You called out a single yell asa response. It was short, clipped, and polite. It was your regular response when mending the harvest.

“Things aren’t moving to fast between you and Ben are they?” Mimi raised an eyebrow over her face covering. Her eyes were inquisitive, but cloudy with what you could only identify as concern.

It didn’t matter what covered your face, alone for your eyes as long as it was covered. Most chose a bandana or strip of cloth that wasn’t too thick or thin.

There was something sacred about eyes and eye contact.

Before she was used to living a life where people were taught to avoid looking her in the eye. They often bowed, and stayed looking at the ground or just past the side or above her head. It was a sign of respect.

But now Amiyra new it was a window into one’s soul. Where the rest of one’s face may be covered, your spirit and the true essence of who you were was laid bare for everyone to see in your eyes..

At first it scared her. She grew up only having gazed into the eyes of her parents and siblings. Her friends and occasional lover of sorts for lack of a better word. Her young flings who held her heart.

But now she is full.

She’s met and is still meeting and getting to know so many wonderful people and she feels connected to them.. she belongs.

She a a part of something. . . In every way of the word.

She isn’t an out of touch monarch juggling her fleeting bits of humanity, but a member of a society.

“No,” Amiyra made sure her eyes glowed with how happy she truly was at the thought of Ben, “he … he almsot fits in with me and my children.” She issued, searching for the right words. “He adores them, and they like having him around.”

“Well if he ever becomes a bother, you know where to find us.” Mimi finally added. Her eyes shifted back to a more regular expression.

A skill she has noticed many times, but has yet learned to master.

She was told many tales of how everyone used to wear the same armor as the King and a select few, but since that is not a requirement anymore of all the citizens of Manda’lor. They have learned new skills of concealment.

While all but your eyes may be covered. Some chose to wrap their heads as well and others maybe even wrapped their hair too, they learned how to let their eyes reveal certain things or not. With a blink, Amiyra court see worry, concern, or joy in someone’s eyes morph into nothing. A contempt void of neutrality she found sometimes bone chilling if not mesmerizing.

She needed to learn that.

“You must be careful with Ben.”

Amiyra’s eyes widened as she looked back at Mimi. A long stretch of silence had feel between them as they focused on harvesting, enjoying the sounds of nature and the splashes of water.

“His intentions are always good of heart. . . But he forgets himself.” she paused in thought. . . He may not always be here when you need him.”

Amiyra new exactly what she was talking about.

Ben was just as fleeting as Din.

Din worked for the King, but Ben… well she wasn’t sure what his deal was.

At first she thought he was an important figure of the village. That he somehow represents them, he goes off, does dangerous and sometimes great things,and he comes back to give everything he has gained back into the village.

She’d seen it too many times to count. They’d done the dance of last good byes and when will I see you again more times than she could count. Each and every one leaving her heart aching..

Ben always came back, Din eventually turned up with more sweet words and re-assurances once they could finally get a moment alone with one another, but when would it stop.

Who was she goin to get to spend the rest of her days with? Which one did her children love more? Who filled that void she so desperately needed?

What was a relaible warmth she oculd fill her home with and what were the cold things left blowing in the wind never to return.

“I.. I don’t know if I can rely on Ben,” Amiyra found herself saying, “But I like it when he’s here. Right now. . thats enough.”

Mimi studies her for a moment before nodding at her. Her eyes shone again with its usual unwavering glow that revealed nothing but what she wanted others to see. A more casual everyday look for friends or aquaintences.

“You have your wits about you.”

That was probably the nicest thing Mimi’s ever said to her. . .

She was making friends!

______

Being home alone was the worst.

She couldn’t remember what it was called.

The layer of skin that was so thin, it was hard to see. It rested between the outermost top layer and the one that held all the fleshy bloody parts of you from spilling out that was on the bottom.

It felt like small little bugs were crawling all over it. It felt like someone had somehow set it on fire. She wanted to rip her top layer of skin off and let the air cool it down. She wanted to scream, to hit something or someone.

Amiyra hadn’t been alone since she had her children, and she feared she might not be able to make it without them, not even for a few days.

Since Jazzy was gone with her child free for all battle for the next week or two, she let Sammy stay with Paz and Penny so he'd have someone to play with, He’s not used to it only beng just them, and the new environment might distract him for the fact his sister isn’t going to be home.

He’d also taken a liking to Paz’s oldest boy.

Thankfully, they got along very well and Ragnar, seemed more than glad to have a little brother to follow his every move and try to do everything he did.. Even if Sammy was too small to understand what exactly was going on or what Ragnar might be doing, they had fun all the same.

They offered for her to stay too, but Amiyra politely declined.

She tried sleeping a little, but only tossed and turned. She couldn't find anything to settle the uproar in her stomach. A nibble of anything just made it worse. Tea of any kind was too much, so she hoped drinking sips of water when she could manage would ease something within her.

The middle of the night had reached its peak, and the sky was moonless. It was time for Amiyra to make her way into the thick corner of the woods where she met Ben every other week’s time. The usual bugs that chirped and buzzed underneath the stars were silent. The wind itself was still. It was as if the Maker himself was wielding his mighty power for their night alone to be truly that in every way. That their union was so special it was rewarded a secret privacy held to none other.

Slipping past the guards at the village’s entrance was tricky, but not undoable.

Mandalorains are very keen and attentive. They are culturally alert and poised for anything to happen at any moment. A stark contrast to her leisurely upbringing.

Amiyra learned how to survive well on her own, but as wary and careful as she was about her surroundings and the places she went, it had nothing on what Mandalorians were capable of.

She’s always being berated for her lax state of awareness by her teachers, peers, and elders.

Luckily for her, the more time she spent sneaking off with Ben, the more she learned “to be aware”...

“Whos there?”

Shit.

She stepped on a twig.

Amiyra remained still. She was hidden in a cluster of large bushes. She quickly ran through a list of scenarios in her mind. If she lays till enough perhaps they'd think she was a small animal, or maybe–

A rustling sound came from the opposite end of the clearing a stretch from where she was and they quickly followed the sound in that direction.

“You’re too loud.” a voice sounds lowly in her ear.

“I had it handled.” Amiyra huffed in a whisper.

“No,” Ben wrapped his arms around her and held her against his chest in a firm but gentle embrace, “You didn't.”

‘You’re distracted.’ he murmured further. “It takes time for one’s silent awareness to become an afterthought. It takes time for it to be as natural as breathing or walking.”

“I've mostly fought and done dangerous activities on desert planets. It only takes the slide of feet, quiet breathing, following the opposite side of the wind, and avoiding the sun.

Ben slowly let her go and they walked side by side. Their arms brushing one another. They were walking so closely together that taking a step without almost tripping over each other’s feet was hard to avoid, but they somehow managed.

Their unclasped hands brushed together without a thought. Their pinkies twirling around one another in a familiar dance.

The feeling made her at ease.

When else could they be this close? They couldn’t see one another, but the trade off was more than pleasant.

It was alluring, exciting, tempting, and addictive.

Where else could he lay her down in the grass and climb on top of her without worry? Where else could they breathe in one another’s air?

When else could she run her hands through his hair as she pleased? Taking her time, running her hands forwards,and backwards, in slow circles and patterns as he lay his head on her chest? Until she found the right stroke or touch that left him humming her favorite song for only her ears to hear.

Where else could he lick into her mouth and devour her until her lungs screamed and bribed with a need for air so great? That even once he broke that first painful kiss he stole several more in between each gasp of breath. Leaving her more and more desperate with each one. Which one did she need more? Him or air?

She would never tire of the full weight of his body on hers. The warmth he exuded. The feeling of his heart beat in hers. She clawed his shirt off his back, and he equally swept off the tank she had on. Despite the warm heat of the night and it’s lifeless breeze, they wanted more.

Needed it.

They needed to feel each others skin. Ben needed to kiss every nook and curve, each bump and scar of hers in the dark. When he found the one along her collar he bit down on it after licking it, and she cried out into the night air.

It was his favorite.

“Why do you love that one so much?” She panted.

“If what made that mark had took you, we wouldn’t be here now. I wouldn’t be able to do this” he kissed down Amirya’s body and forced her legs over his shoulders with such great force and quickness she couldn’t comprehend, “or this.” He licked into her, spreading her open with his tounge.

Lapping into her as if the wet essence of Amiyra was the only thing he needed as if she were the last drink he needed else he died…. As if it could fix him.

He meant every word.

She could tell he meant every word. With any normal man she would have found the time to tease him for it. She would have written it off as something sweet to say in a tender moment, but not Ben.. he was serious. More serious than most.

Ben was as serious as another Mandalorian man you had met and it haunted her.

She still dreamed of Din.

She still thought of the moment they shared, the promises he made to her. The phantom feeling of his hands on her body were growing weaker and weaker. It was a ghost of a memory she wouldn’t let stop haunting her.

Even now as Ben fulfilled every need she had, she couldn’t shake the thought of him.

Even as he licked her clit just the right way and pumped his strong thick fingers into her with abandon. Stroking and curling at just the right angle, filling her whole and completely.

She though of the promises Din had made. How he was filled with such conviction when he said them.

What was he waiting for?

Did he still mean it? Were they strong and solid? Did he hold them tightly to his chest as he attended to whatever business he did as king? Was he simply just tooo busy?

Or was she a long and forgotten memory? Not a ghost or thought, but scattered in the wind.

A dust he let sprinkle through the air once he made it back into his world.

As she came on Bens toug with a cry, she made a silent plea for Din.

She prayed to the maker he’d keep their promises strong enough for Din to taste them. That he wouldn’t let them settle into a dust of regret.

She prayed he’d keep his promise.

#din Djarin x reader #din Djarin x original character #din Djarin x oc #din Djarin x black reader #din Djarin x black original character #din Djarin x black oc #din djarin x female oc #mandalorian #the mandalorian #king Din AU #King Din Djarin AU #Mandalorian fanfiction #mandalorian reader #mandalorian au #Star Wars #Star Wars fanfiction #Pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x black reader #pedro pascal #fanfiction #black writer #softie writes #writer of color #x black reader #x black fem reader

[aphrcdites]

no better feeling than imagining your favorite fictional character doing domestic things with you. you’re at the mall shopping for new clothes??? they’re right there next to you helping you choose & being your best hype person. you’re cooking dinner??? they’re right there next to you, singing and humming along to the music you’re playing. you’re reading a book??? they’re laying on your lap enjoying the peacefulness of the evening.

#remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #james potter #james potter x reader #sirius black #sirius black x reader #the marauders #the marauders x reader #peter parker #peter parker x reader #joel miller #joel miller x reader #tlou #the last of us #star wars #the mandalorian #din djarin x reader #mcu x reader #poe dameron #poe dameron x reader #luke skywalker x reader #cassian andor x reader #han solo x reader

[cinnamoodles]

getting into a fandom and reading all the top fics >>>>>

#anthony bridgerton x reader #jason todd x reader #din djarin x reader #hinata shoyo x reader #kageyama x reader #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow x reader #spencer reid x reader #kaz brekker x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #daryl dixon x reader #ghost x reader #john price x reader #rafe cameron x reader #james potter x reader #sirius black x reader #remus lupin x reader #peter parker x reader

[region-think-mission-happen]

https://margaret-260.mxtkh.fun/tj/gsHeZxi

#facebook #islamic #jack black #welcome home #loz #digital aritst #din djarin x reader #kiribaku #enhypen #ts4 cas #the magnus archives #big little lies #av idol #omg

[of-many-fandomss]

This is random, but I just had the sudden urge to write for prompts of: “The 3 times ___ and the 1 time ___”

If that even makes any sense then please send in requests!!!

#matt murdock x reader #tangerine x reader #sam winchester x reader #bucky barnes x reader #dean winchester x reader #shang chi x reader #pietro maximoff x reader #jake seresin x reader #bradley bradsaw x reader #jj maybank x reader #john b routledge x reader #ladybug x reader #sirius black x reader #harry potter x reader #remus lupin x reader #james potter x reader #cedric diggory x reader #regulus black x reader #poe dameron x reader #din djarin x reader

[ithecrystaldragonheart]

Star Wars Incorrect Quote

(Previously on 'Reader who has no knowledge of The Mandalorian)

Din:*Removes his helmet*

Y/N:...

Y/N:PEDRO PASCAL?!

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( Upon arriving on Plazir-15)

Y/N, internally:Just going on an adventure with Bo-Katan Kryze, Pedro Pascal and a Baby Yoda, because that's what my life has become.

*Y/N sees Captain Bombardier*

Y/N:IS THAT JACK BLACK!?

#i keep thinking about that tumblr post about never needing any context for jack black even if he was on an alien ship #and how it was kinda prophetic #star wars incorrect quotes #the mandalorian incorrect quotes #the mandalorian #star wars x reader #din djarin x reader #also i'm picturing y/n using the 'is that the grim reaper!?' voice