luthien-t

[luthien-t]

[luthien-t]

just imagine this

He just got back from a hunt, and judging by his body language, it didn’t go so well. You’re watching him walk towards you in the cockpit. His hands slowly moving up to the edge of his mask. Your heart rapidly beating as you stand from his chair, your hands flying to hold his wrists in place to stop whatever you think he is about to do.

“Din.” It’s all you can manage to say, stopping him inches away from you, your eyes trying to find his under the mask. And yet his fingers push up his mask slowly, so fuckin’ slow. You can see his chin, his lips. Before his mask can go any higher, a quiet whimper leaves his throat before he speaks.

“Please.”

You swallow before his lips are on yours.

(idfk man i just wanted to write this lil thing bc i can just imagine mando being exhausted and tired from a failed bounty hunt and wants to blow some steam in any possible way before returning to whatever fuck up happened during his hunt)

#din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian #mandalorian x you #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian x y/n #star wars x y/n #star wars x reader

[luthien-t]

Don’t even email me if you aren’t Archive of Our Own

[luthien-t]

Shine and Polish

Pairing: Din Djarin x reader

Word Count: 2.7k

Request: "Din catches you cleaning/polishing his armor for him (something usually only done between courting Mandos) and gets all shy explaining the implications to you send tweet"

Warnings: mild language, mature themes, Din in sweatpants, I think that's it?? Idk it's a short one

AN: I want to formally apologize to all of you who sent Din requests to my inbox that have been sitting there for a while, I promise I see you, I just had such a hard time finding the right motivation and inspiration for these pieces. Hopefully I can get the others pumped out in a decent timeline as well 🤞 Thanks @deceiverofgodss for bullying me into working on this, ily 💛 I hope you guys enjoy!

The beskar armor was a large part of his intimidation. It widened his frame – which was admittedly big enough without it – making him bulkier, heavier, a force to be reckoned with. It represented the history of warriors before him, Mandalorians through generations maintaining their reputation of being a people you don’t come back from a fight with. The dark visors and emotionless helmets only helped on that front, he couldn’t even count how many people had tried to back their way out of trouble with one silent look from him. 

Each beskar’gam was unique to the Mandalorian wearing it, and they take special care to make sure it looks as intimidating as wearing it makes them feel. Some go out of their way to paint their beskar, symbolizing their journey with specific colors and designs of their heritage. For Din, it’s keeping the pure metal shined and polished – it turns heads and sends a whisper through the crowd at the mere sight of him. 

It takes a lot to keep it that way. 

He’d had to get his new armor after the Mud horn, but getting out the mud caked into the rest of it had taken much longer than he cared to admit. Being swallowed by the Krayt Dragon and then walking through the Tatooine desert had left him scrubbing the dried goo from crevices he didn’t know existed for hours after you and the kid had fallen asleep. And now, he could only imagine the hassle it would be getting all the blood that kriffing Nexu had gotten all over his armor. 

Din was damn near ready to collapse when you all had gotten back to your room at the inn, but he could feel the dirt and grime that was building up underneath his flight suit. He watched you launch Grogu into the air a few times, hugging him close as you flopped down onto one of the small beds, and sending a wink Din’s way. 

You were a saint. With the kid nestled into your arms and properly distracted, he began stripping off his Beskar and setting it down on the caf table. He’d have to get to it after he got out of the ‘fresher. One more glance over at you, smiling to himself as little green hands grabbed your cheeks to try and escape your barrage of kisses, and he slipped into the bathroom. 

The reflection looking back at him in the mirror was rough, to say the least, but when the hot water pounded into his skin the rest of the galaxy faded away. 

It felt like heaven. He let it run across his face as he tried to revive his hair, though he didn’t know what difference it would make, it would be flattened under the helmet again once he stepped out. The pressure of the water worked wonders on the knots in his shoulders. He’d have to find a way to get those out sooner rather than later. Maybe he could sweet talk you into helping… He could just imagine how your nimble fingers would feel gliding across his skin, easing his muscles, gripping his shoulders while he-

No. That was enough of that. Dangerous territory Djarin, keep it together. 

You’d been traveling with Din for… well, it had been a long time now. You’d been with him through thick and thin, been there well before he’d picked up a strange bounty from an imperial imp, and fallen in love with the little green bounty just as much as he had. And after having lost the kid and gotten him back, a handful of times Din had still yet to tell you how he felt. At least, not in a way you’d be able to pick up on. 

Each day that passed where he would choke on his words, he watched you instead. He knew what would catch your eye as you walked through the markets on rural planets, he knew your favorite foods and could tell what you would get for yourself – often before you did. He knew how to read your body language as well as you had come to read his, and you were so in tune with each other that it felt as if you’d known each other your whole lives. 

So why couldn’t he just fucking say what he meant? Instead, he stood by your side and watched as that pretty smile formed on your cheeks, watched your eyes sparkle in the starlight, watched you smother Grogu in loving affection… All he ever did was watch. 

He wanted to take your hand for more reasons than pulling you along behind him, he wanted to do it for no reason. He wanted to stand too close and put his hand at the small of your back, brush his bare thumb across your cheek to comfort you, hold you close to keep you warm late at night. He wanted to run his hands over all your curves, see your pupils blown wide as you looked up at him, feel you quiver beneath him as he-

Dank farrik, cut it out. Din turned the water ice cold to shake himself of the thoughts, pushing them back into the corners of his mind where they belonged. He couldn’t afford to think of you like that, not while he kept watching without saying a damn word about how he felt. 

He took his time leaving the room that was now filled with humid air and steam from his shower. It had made it easier to clean the blood that had splattered on his helmet, polishing it to look as clean as he felt. He dressed in a fresh set of lounge clothes – an investment he’d made at your insistence, and one he’d thanked you for every time the soft clothes draped against his skin – and placed the helmet back on his head, ready to face the rest of his party once again. 

With you, he was prepared for anything. He loved your wild spirit, a shining beacon of your warmth in a galaxy that was otherwise cold and unkind. What he wasn’t prepared for was to see you sitting on the floor with his beskar in your hands, half of the pieces on the caf table having been cleaned and polished. 

It was times like these he was thankful he was hidden behind the helmet, because his cheeks were burning in an incriminating shade of red. 

“I like your pants, Din,” you smiled, only looking up from his shoulder piece to give him a playful smirk. And was that..? Of fucking course it was the one with his signet. Cause that’s what he needed right now. “Those the really soft ones I convinced you to get on Naboo?”

“I- yeah… they’re uh, nice,” he managed, feet rooted to the spot, unable to take his eyes off of the way you were being so delicate with his armor. 

“Oh, they’re nice. Well, aren’t you chatty.” Any other time, he might’ve laughed. Currently, his brain was rewiring itself. His lack of response must have been noticeable because now you were setting your rag aside and giving him a concerned look. “Is everything okay?” 

If ever there was a loaded question, that would be it. 

“Yeah, just fine.” A cock of your eyebrow told him that you didn’t believe him, but he couldn’t seem to get any words of consolation out of his mouth. A few more beats of silence passed, Din tried swallowing the lump in his throat a few times, and then he saw something in your expression shift. You were figuring it out… Your focus shifted back down to the shoulder piece in your hand, drifted to the others on the caf table beside you, and found his again with worry in your eyes. 

“Have I done something wrong?”

“No,” he was quick to assure you. “No, you haven’t done anything wrong.”

“Are you sure? I haven’t broken some sacred bond between you and your armor?” His heart was hammering in his chest, but you were still able to get an amused huff out of him, which you had told him were barely audible outside of the helmet. He shook his head to answer your question, and in response, you set the now shining shoulder piece back with the rest of his armor. “Will you tell me what’s going on then? You’re freaking me out.”

Maker, where would he start? 

He took a deep breath and decided to take a seat on the floor across from you, leaning against the side of the table. He bent his knees so his feet were flat – grounding him, in a way – his arms rested on top of them. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back, possibly giving the appearance that he was relaxing, giving his body a rest. It couldn’t have been farther from the truth. 

“When a Mandalorian cleans another’s armor, it’s a representation of trust,” he started, figuring it would be better if he led with an explanation instead of a blunt answer. “The one removing their armor becomes vulnerable, unprotected by their beskar; they are trusting the other with that vulnerability. And as the other polishes the armor they’ve been trusted with, they help prepare them for battle.”

“That’s beautiful,” you whispered, and only then did he dare look at you. A soft smile graced your cheeks, very visibly put at ease at not having made some great offense to his creed. 

“It’s… a very common courting ritual.” Your eyes widened, and your lips parted in realization. Din didn’t know if he wanted to grab you, pull you into his lap and tell you exactly what had been on his mind the second he saw you with his armor… or if he wanted to run from the room until you could both forget about this entirely. 

He was on the verge of opening his mouth to take it back, to assure you it didn’t always have to mean something that significant – even if that would be a lie – but you beat him to the punch. 

“Tell me more,” you lilted, head tilted in curiosity. “What else do courting Mandos do?” His nerves would have done well with a very large glass of spotchka to have this conversation, though having a sober judgment was probably in his best interest. 

“Mandalorians are big on hidden meanings, a lot of what we do tends to symbolize something bigger.” 

“I’ve noticed,” you smiled, easing his nerves enough to get another small laugh out of him. 

“In a way, it’s somewhat similar to any other relationship. Building trust, getting to know each other, spending time together. The difference is in that underlying meaning, our rituals intended to show how together you both will honor the Resol'nare.” He paused to give you a minute to take it in, stop him if you needed further explanation, but your evident eagerness prompted him forward. “They usually represent how you will contribute to the community together, how you will provide for one another. How you will rear children together.” 

That last statement made his heart skip and sent an electric shot through his body – and to a part of him that didn’t need to be present in this conversation. 

“I guess that makes sense, there’s no Resol’nare in a non-mando relationship, but you still try to figure out how a life together is going to look,” you agreed. “Are most of your rituals like this one? Providing acts of service to your partner?”

“A good many of them, yes. Polishing armor, cleaning weapons…” You were too clever for him to get away with this, he saw the slight tilt of your lips as the same realization hit you both; he always cleaned your weapons for you. Even after he’d taught you how to clean your blaster, he would hold out his hand and make some kind of excuse about it being easier since he was already cleaning his own. 

He could recover from this. “Some gift handcrafted weapons, and if their bond is strong enough, those weapons will bear the other’s signet.” He’d yet to give you a mudhorn, that one was easy. Given, there weren’t very many items that had a mudhorn on them in passing, otherwise he might not have been able to resist the temptation. But while he was in the clear, he watched the slight drop in your demeanor. 

“Are you allowed to so openly wear someone else’s signet?” 

“Not on your armor. But with a weapon, it is a gift that you may carry the other’s signet while courting, not necessarily that you may wear it as your own.” You nodded in understanding, and he waited for that slight knowing smile to come back to your cheeks, and was surprised at his disappointment when it didn’t. He was in the clear, you wouldn’t suspect him… 

And maybe he didn’t want that anymore. 

“That one is more formal, but there are others to do with hunting and providing,” he said quickly, acting on instinct to try and reel you back in. “A basic, instinctive display of protection; bringing meats and hides from your hunt, preparing their favorite foods…” He couldn’t find the words to continue anymore when your gaze met his visor and softened. You figured him out, and his heart may have been beating in his ears, but he was no less confident in his quiet admission. 

“Din?” you asked gently, and he said your name in acknowledgement. “Have you been flirting with me?” 

“Yes.” The sparkling smile that spread across your cheeks sent a warm feeling through his body. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“I needed time. That was the only way I knew how to do anything about it without making a fool of myself, or ruining one of the few good things that I have,” he smiled, and you turned away from him to hide your own flustered expression. 

“That’s not fair! I didn’t know that’s what you were doing,” you laughed. 

“That was the point,” he smiled, and you shook your head exasperatedly as your gaze settled back out into the room. He followed your line of sight, landing on the child as he sat happily in the cocoon of blankets and toys you had crafted for him on one of the beds. 

Din felt a familiar ache as he watched his foundling, one that longed for these little domestic routines with your mis-matched family. He tried to ignore them because of the desire for you they had a tendency to inspire, despite the fact that no matter what he liked to call you, the three of you were a family in your own way. And yet, this time felt different. It felt comfortable. 

He caught your movement in his peripherals, turning his head slightly to find you grinning curiously at him. “Now that I know… how do you feel?” He took a second to inhale before he responded, steadying himself. 

“That depends. Other than your piqued interest, I still don’t have an answer to how you feel.” He was sure you saw right through him; he wasn’t an ignorant man, he could assume how you felt based on your response. But he’d done enough of that. Besides, it was your turn to be the one spilling your guts.  

“Well… I’ll tell you that now I know where I’ll pick up dinner tonight.”

“That’s not what I-” 

“The cantina we passed in town, they have that soup I know you love,” you started, quick to cut him off and make him see your damn point. “I don’t know if it counts because I didn’t prepare it, but that’s the best I can do for now. You’re just gonna have to read between the lines, Mandalorian.” He only stared at you for a few moments, taking in your growing smile, warm and mischievous in a way that was so unique to you. 

You were flirting back at him. 

You liked him. 

Instead of finding words to reply, having used up his usual quota, Din shifted in his place on the floor to reach out for you. Your soft laughter lit up his entire body as he pulled you closer, and you slid into his lap with ease. He could no longer deny himself with your half-spoken admission, giving in to the part of him that needed to have you close as often as he could manage.

Thanks for reading!! If you’d like to be notified when I post a new fic, be sure to follow @writerlyhabits-library + turn on post notifications! 💛

Speaking of, if you wouldn’t mind answering my survey about what you think of my library/taglist system? It’d help me figure out how to reach you guys best. I’d really appreciate it!

[luthien-t]

Random thought, but I think asking "Can I be your boyfriend?" Is much more romantic thank "Do you want to be my girlfriend?".

[luthien-t]

I don't know about you but personally I don't watch star wars for its logic. I came here to see space wizards with magic floaty powers and fourteen year old queens and flying pears and sand memes and hello theres and loose wire jokes and two people in a trenchcoat and Obi-Wan telling THE ACTUAL SITH LORD THAT SITH LORDS WERE THEIR SPECIALITY ajsbiwhsb as well as Palpatine electrocuting himself at the end of every trilogy

I'm here for the Council straight up side-eyeing Anakin when Padme is mentioned and that whole death sticks sequence and 'control your insolence the cOuNt is ConCeNTraTiNg' and R2 being savage and 'don't worry, we're still flying half a ship'-

I'm here for Obi-Wan and Anakin and the fact that they are literally so entwined and that saying that where one goes the other follows and the absolute tragedy of how much they loved and hated and yearned for each other, both hurt and hurting the other and the way that they are absolutely haunted by the ghost of the other

Yes I know that its Disney trying to cash in its Star Wars quota, but you know what? There are people out there who are genuinely enthusiastic about working on these different series and now there are so many stories that can be explored and I, for one, am genuinely excited

A few plot holes doesn't make terrible writing.

So yes, I am living my best life watching the Kenobi series.

[luthien-t]

some of ya'll need to learn how to use "read more"

It's super annoying when you're looking through the tag on mobile to find something to read. And it's also super annoying when you follow the tag and suddenly have to scroll forever just to get to the next post on your dash.

[luthien-t]

real event that occured that i cant stop thinking about

[luthien-t]

I heard your requests are open?? I have an idea for one. Maybe Y/N is oblivious and doesn’t know who he is or something (like maybe doesnt know he’s a Mandalorian)? and isn’t scared of him? And he’s surprised and it’s really fluffy. And then they grow to like each other (with time skips??) 🥰

I adored this idea, thank you so much for this request! I'm sorry it took me so long to post it lol. This really got away from me, it was supposed to be a little like 2k thing and here it sits at almost 5k 😂😂 I hope you enjoy it, my dear!

I was gonna wait and post this next week and let Pretty have the spotlight for a little longer, but... I think we could use a pick-me-up today.

Din Djarin x gn!reader | G, appropriate for all ages (tho there is a lot of swearing pls bear that in mind lol)

Content: canon-typical violence, mentions and description of injury, treating said injury, lots of hilarity and fun times, giving Din silly nicknames, technically takes place alongside and after TBOBF except that the Razor Crest lives, I know it says din x reader but there isn't a heavy emphasis on romance, it is fluffy tho

~~~~

Fights in the cantina were a regular occurrence. Working here as long as you did had a way of desensitizing anyone; it was rare for a scene to rattle you anymore. 

Sure, you’d been in a couple scruffs yourself, but those never lasted too long. 

Until now.

You’d been blocking and striking the strange tin man for what felt like an eternity. He somehow saw through some of your sneakiest strategies and had just the right counter. It was annoying. 

How the hell does anyone learn to be this good a fighter? You asked yourself. 

Why were you fighting this large piece of silver Bantha dung in the first place? Well, it was all a bit of a blur. One moment, you were going about your shift as normal, and the next you were stepping in to break up a particularly brutal scene that pitted this guy against three others. They didn’t raise a hand to you. But he did.  

When the two of you tumbled out of the cantina doors and into the sand beyond, you took the chance to pin down his hands, your feet stretching as far as they could to trap his legs underneath. 

“What is your problem,” you shouted into his visor. “Coming into my place and making such a racket?” 

“What’s your problem, getting in the way?” he retorted. 

You cocked your head to the side. 

“In the way? Of what, you destroying my furniture?” 

He let out a grunt as his helmet thumped against the ground. 

“Enough. He’ll get away if I don’t go now.” 

“Look, man,” you let out a frustrated chuckle. “I don’t know what you’re getting at but you’re not going anywhere until you pay for your fucking mess.”

He sighed before slipping one of his legs free, using it to knee you in the sternum. The air flew from your lungs and you clutched the spot in pain, slowly falling off him and onto your side. You squeezed your eyes shut. The ache blossomed into your entire torso, your lungs quaking while you tried to regain your breath. It was as if you’d been punched by a piece of metal. 

When you opened your eyes again, the walking scrapyard had vanished. 

~~~~

Great, Din thought. 

He’d chased the bounty down again, even after the absurd head start they’d gotten. But now there were even more henchmen for him to work through. 

Not that it took long, it was just tiresome. Without the extra weaponry and distraction the cantina brought, he was able to make quick work of the crowd. A few final blows and a spurt of his flamethrower cleared the way within minutes. The target quivered under Din’s gaze, eyeing the sea of bodies surrounding him before throwing his hands up in surrender. 

As Din led him back to the Crest, his mind drifted to you. You had jumped into the fray by surprise; he hadn’t noticed until he felt you pulling him off the man he was punching. And you actually succeeded in pinning him down. The struggle had gone on for some time, yet felt to be just a few seconds. 

A few seconds of Din being constantly shocked by you. 

He recalled you staring down at him from your position. Not an ounce of fear or hesitation in those eyes. Was that just a product of your profession, or had you undergone something even he couldn’t compete with?

It’s not as though Din was comparing himself to the likes of the Empire, but almost every pair of eyes he’d ever met were glazed with fear. With understanding. With surrender. People saw his helmet and knew it was over for them.

But not you. 

The shrieks of the frightened bounty as he was carbonated fell onto deaf ears. Din’s mind was foggy and loud, as if he were still in that cantina hurling projectiles at his attackers, while he settled into the pilot’s chair. 

His hand paused on its way to the controls. Your face dominated his mind’s eye once more: fiery eyes, heavy breaths, the weight of your hands on his wrists. He sighed and swiveled back out. 

He had to know more.

~~~~

It took help from most of your staff and some of your kinder patrons to clean the place up. Whoever else had been in the fight was long gone by the time you regained the strength to stand. The day went on as per usual after that, though with the added bonus of trying to work around the pain that seared through your middle whenever you twisted or bent down. 

After your shift was done you walked out towards the setting suns. Your little home was just beyond the main area of Mos Rena, and in it was a bacta patch calling your name. You rubbed your bruised sternum as you took in the dusty colors of the sky. Delightful gradients of blue, purple, and pink blending together to create a stark contrast to the bright white and orange of the twin suns. 

You turned a corner and headed further into the wild sands, the ground beneath you falling away from a sturdy foundation and into looser terrain. The light of the day was quickly melting down under the horizon, a cooler wind sweeping through the air in its wake. 

The air shifted. Something was off. 

Every hair on your body stood at attention – eyes were on you. 

You stopped in your tracks, gazing over the area in front of you while you listened for any sign of noise from behind. You held your breath and waited. 

Nothing.

Whoever was watching you knew what they were doing if you couldn’t pinpoint where they were. You steeled yourself and took a few more hesitant steps forward. The sensation only grew stronger. You bit down a snarl and slowly reached for the dagger on your belt. 

Fuck around and find out, buddy, you thought. 

Just when you couldn’t take it anymore, a familiar filtered voice filled the silent air.

“You there, I’d like to talk to you.”

You turned around to find that same man from earlier. The one decorated from head to toe in that ridiculous set of silver. The one who gave you the massive bruise you had to live around all day. You looked down at his knee; it too was covered with a piece of bulky armor. The sight alone made your sternum throb.

“That fucker right there,” you pointed to it. “owes me an apology.”

He took a hesitant glance down before meeting your eyes once more. 

“Uh- right.” 

“And you still owe me for wrecking my cantina!” you raised your finger to his chest. “What even was all that about?” 

“One of those men had a bounty on him. I was trying to collect him.”

Confusion filled your mind. Sure, you’d seen a few bounty hunters in your day, but never one that looked like this.

“... I didn’t realize you were a bounty hunter,” you said. 

He seemed to freeze up, his head coming forward a bit while his hands gestured to his outfit. 

“Uh, really?” 

You glared at his matter-of-fact tone. Was he trying to make you feel stupid?

“Really what? The fuck does this mean?” you mimicked his movements. 

He tilted his head to the side and took a few steps closer. 

“Have… have you never seen a Mandalorian before?” 

He sounded as though you were the one having delusions. You scoffed.

“Wait– you’re a Mandalorian?”

“Yes,” he sighed, “I am.” 

You raised a brow and took in the image of him, different now when accompanied by this new information. 

“I’ve heard of Mandalorians,” you started, “but I’ve never known much of anything about them, let alone what they look like.”

He tilted his head. The silence hung heavy in the dense air, the small breeze doing little to ease it. 

“You… are a skilled fighter,” he breathed. 

“You sound surprised.”

“I am. It’s been a long time since I’ve had to fight that hard.” 

“Oh, are all of you supposed to be indestructible or something?” you asked, a teasing glint in your tone. 

He let out a huff. Instead of responding, his visor peered at you. You stared right back at it, a hundred questions suddenly flooding your brain. 

Why was he wearing all that on a planet this hot? Was he not melting under there? Was he human? Did all Mandalorians have to be walking sheets of metal? He spoke before you could get one out. 

“I’m… sorry about your cantina. I’ll pay you back. And sorry about… that.”

He gestured to where your hand was still resting on your sternum. You ran it over the area.

“What’s all that shit made of, anyway?” you asked, “Doesn’t look like any metal I’ve ever seen.”

“It’s beskar,” he said, “Most Mandalorian armor is made with it.” 

“I see,” you said with a nod. “Well, I guess it did its fucking job. Been wincing all day.” 

You gave a dry chuckle. His helmet’s gaze drifted downward, his hands clenching in and out of fists. 

“If that’ll be all,” you began to turn. “I need to get some bacta on this thing.”

“...Right. I am sorry, again.” 

“Thank you. I won’t ban you from the cantina for now-” you pointed an accusatory finger at him- “because you still owe me.” 

He let out another huff. This one sounded closer to a chuckle; you wondered if all that armor made it hard to breathe or if he was just trying to play some kind of cool-guy persona. 

Regardless, the walk home was a bit less miserable than it would’ve been before. 

~~~~

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite durasteel giant,” you called with a grin. 

The Mandalorian had come in periodically to drop off payments over the last couple weeks. You’d come to an agreement: three installments, enough to pay off some of the damages. He hadn’t technically been responsible for the entire mess, but he did give you a good chunk from the reward that caused the fight to begin with. 

At his insistence, you were letting him work off the rest. 

The work in question? Helping you build the rest of the furniture you couldn’t afford to buy. You led him to your workstation in the back after taking his payment. 

“Any exciting updates since I saw you last?” 

“Not much,” he said, “Same old.” 

“Oh, come on,” you prodded, “there’s gotta be something!”

He let out a little chuckle. 

“My ship got damaged.” 

“Again?” you sat down on a crate and patted the spot beside you. Once the Mandalorian was situated, you handed him a piece of wood to glue onto a chair’s base. 

“Who was after you this time? Mercenaries? Wild exes? Ooh, or other bounty hunters?”

He scoffed. 

“You’ve got quite the imagination.” 

You smiled and began smoothing out a chair leg. 

“... it fell.” 

You paused. 

“Fell?” 

“Yeah. Into a lake. It’s at the hangar right now getting repaired.” 

You stared at him. He kept his visor pointed in front of him, hands focused on his task. You tried to imagine it: a giant hunk of metal, flying another giant hunk of metal, and crash-landing into water. 

You burst out laughing. The wood clattered to the floor as you bent forward, hand clutching your stomach. 

“Oh, that’s rich,” you breathed just before another fit of laughter rolled through you. 

You managed to suck in a breath and slowly sat back up, wincing at the pulse of pain running through your torso. 

“Wait- what’s wrong?” 

“Nothing,” you waved a hand his way, bending once more to retrieve the wood. “It’s been weeks, and that still hurts?”

“It’s not that bad anymore.” 

“... that’s not normal. You might have internal damage-” 

“I’m fine, okay, I’ll just stick another bacta patch on it.” 

“Obviously that hasn’t been working.” 

“Look,” you turned and faced him, pointing a finger at his chest. “If I say I’m fine, I’m fine. Don’t be going all hero on me, now.” 

Without giving him a chance to respond, you stood and made your way to your bag for the bacta patch. 

~~~~

He didn’t bring it up again for the rest of the time he was there. But for the rest of that day and into the next, it was the only thing on his mind.

Just how hard had he hit you? You shouldn’t have been wincing as much as you were at this point. Something else had to be going on. 

Din made his way to the cantina. He’d already done his work for this week, but the cooler air and welcoming atmosphere was hard to resist. You were nowhere in sight for the time he spent sitting there, and no one on the staff knew where you were. 

He sighed. Maybe you’d gone home for the day. Or maybe you were in the back working on chairs.

… But wouldn’t they know that?

Din stood from his booth and rushed to the back. The small workspace was empty, and your bag was nowhere to be found. Maybe you hadn’t come in at all that day. 

He made his way out, pushing past patrons and almost knocking over several drinks in the process, and stomped towards the open dunes. Was barging in on you at home like this the wisest option? No. But the unpleasant pressure building in his gut and squeezing him like a vine cared less and less about that. 

Your heat signature was faint, but still visible enough in the sand. He followed the trail until he reached a tiny building, seemingly built into the ground. Clever use of the sand, he thought. 

He approached the door and gave it a sharp knock. He called your name.

“You okay in there?” 

He stood in the silent sand and waited. His breathing had become more shallow, his armor feeling twice as heavy under the harsh sunlight. When the door finally moved, he let out a sigh. 

“What the fuck, how did you find me?!”

~~~~

“Are you okay?” 

“Answer me, how the fuck did you know where I live?” 

You held the door open just enough to poke your head out, and to say the sight of Shiny Man shocked you was the understatement of a lifetime. 

You breathed in as deeply as your torso would allow as you waited for an answer. He pointed to his helmet. 

“I followed your tracks. I’m a hunter, it’s kinda what I do.” 

You sighed. Duh.

You opened the door and waved him in. After shutting it you turned and lifted your arms. 

“Welcome to my humble abode. What the fuck do you want?” 

“I had to check on you,” he said, “Something just doesn’t seem right.” 

“Are you some kind of medic?” you asked, hands on your hips. “I thought I told you I’m perfectly-”

“Does it hurt to breathe?” 

You stared at him, brows scrunching. 

“It does, doesn’t it?” 

You scowled and turned away from him. 

“I don’t get why you’re so frazzled over this, man.” You crossed your arms over your chest and took a seat in your little living nook. “It’s my problem. I can deal with it.”   

He let out a rugged sigh and came to stand in front of you. 

“Hate to break this to you, but it’s my problem, too. I’m the one that caused it.”

You kept your gaze pointed at his shoes. What the fuck were all those tiny silver cylinders? This guy had more gadgets than you could keep up with; it seemed like you found a new one every time you saw him. 

“I don’t get why you’re so stubborn about people helping you, but you should really have that looked at.” 

“Oh, what, is this an excuse for you to get a better look at me, Mr. Silver?” you let out a dry chuckle. “You could’ve just said something. Or bought me a drink.” 

He sighed and kneeled down to catch your sight. 

“Look. This,” he patted his armored knee. “Is pure beskar. One of the toughest materials there is. And evidently I hit you with a lot more force than I needed to. That’s a bad combination; if I caused any kind of internal injury and you don’t address it, you could die. Is that what you want?” 

How the hell could a small strip of black plastic be so intimidating? You couldn’t see his eyes, yet their gaze burned into you. That’s just not fair, you thought. Cheater. 

You sighed. 

“Okay. What do you want me to do?” 

“Lift up your shirt. Let me take a look.” 

“... What?!”

~~~~

Okay, so the boldness of his request — while shocking — was warranted. 

Your torso was still discolored, as if the swollen bruise was now a permanent fixture on your skin. He had you lay down on your bed before he pressed a button on the side of his helmet and peered at it. 

“... Just how many magic powers does that dome of yours have?”

“A few.” 

He gently pressed two fingers to your side. You hissed. 

“Hurts?” 

You nodded. He repeated the action all around the bruise, and you told him which areas hurt. 

“Okay, now I need to press in the middle. This might hurt more.” 

You nodded and braced yourself. 

He was right – you grunted as the pain seared through you. You grabbed his free hand and squeezed, a tiny ‘fuck’ slipping through your gritted teeth. 

He froze. When you opened your eyes, he was staring at your conjoined hands. You took a breath and let go. 

“Sorry,” you said, “Just needed something to squeeze.” 

“DId it hurt a lot?” 

You nodded. 

He slowly retreated both hands, staring at them. Just when you were going to make a remark about not having cooties, he wiggled them free. 

Your eyes went wide. They were big, veiny, and very human. His gaze found yours once more as he offered you his now bare hand. 

“This should be more comfortable. I need to do some more pressing to see how deep this goes.” 

You couldn’t help staring at his hand. Gold, slightly flushed skin, littered in indents from his gloves. You reached for it slowly, drawing back just a bit before grabbing hold.

He was warm. And somehow soft, despite the rough calluses that decorated his knuckles. A dull rush fluttered through your system.

Why did this feel so intimate? It’s a fucking hand.

“So,” you cleared your throat. “Is it like, a big deal to take off that stuff?”

“Some parts more than others.” 

He placed his other hand back over your wound and pressed. You squeezed your eyes shut. The hand holding yours was steadier this time, accepting the full force of your pain. He was right – it was more comfortable. 

“Keep breathing,” he said. “This one’s pretty bad.” 

“What should I do?”

“I’ve got some stronger meds in my ship. If you can hang tight for a little while, I can go get them.” 

You nodded as he got up and re-gloved his hands. 

“Thanks, Mando.”

He paused midstep, facing away from you. He was stiff, and for a moment you wondered if you’d somehow offended him. He turned and gave you a curt nod, his gaze lingering a moment longer before he turned and left.

~~~~

No snarky, armor-related nickname? That’s never happened in the time he’s known you. This had to be really bad.

The wound was deeper than the bruise, just as he suspected. He ran through the specific materials he’d need to nurse it, picturing where each one was in the Crest. 

Din raced back to the hangar. He bypassed the surprised mechanics and jogged up the ramp to seize his medpack. He looked through his other supplies for anything else he might need and tossed it all into a satchel. 

On the way back, he stopped off at the cantina. He kicked himself for not asking if you’d eaten anything all day – you had to be starving.

~~~~

“Oh, fuck yeah, how’d you know? This is my favorite broth!” 

You happily ate spoonful after spoonful of the warm soup, your body relishing in the sensation. You were propped up on your bed while the Mandalorian sorted through his bag of supplies. 

Once you were finished eating, you let him get to work. Various sprays and creams found their way onto your abdomen, and per his instructions you took a couple of his fancy painkillers. 

“What is all this crap, anyway?” you asked. 

“This is for the swelling, this is for the internal damage, and this is to help jumpstart the healing process.” He held up each item as he spoke, both hands freed from his gloves and gauntlets as he applied them on you. 

When his fingers ghosted below your belly button, you laughed. “Watch it, that tickles!” 

He tilted his head at you and pressed on. 

The final step was to wrap the bruise in a bandage. You stood as he rotated around you, making sure to cover every bit of it. You huffed. 

“I feel like royalty having someone put a fancy garment on me,” you said, waving your spread arms around. 

“Almost done, Your Majesty,” he breathed, sarcasm dripping from his tone.

“You? Cracking jokes?” you asked, wide eyes staring at where he knelt in front of you. 

He looked up at you and shrugged. 

~~~~

It took some time, but you did eventually heal. 

The Mandalorian made more frequent trips back to Tatooine during that time. He insisted it was for work, but you couldn’t help teasing him. 

‘Aww, is the big, scary tin man worried about me?’ you’d said. 

He had sighed and lightly poked your stomach, chuckling when you hissed and swatted his hand away. 

About two months later, the wound was gone.

The Mandalorian had paid back his debts by then as well, though he still stopped by from time to time. Whenever you asked why, he just shrugged. 

It had been almost three months since you last saw him. Longer than normal. 

You clocked out of your shift for the evening and made your way outside, the suns only just beginning to set. You decided to take a short walk around town before heading home, taking in the twinkling lights that hung above each structure. 

A mechanical roar burst through the quiet night; you looked up to see the Razor Crest come in for landing. Your heart began to race, a smile splitting your cheeks. That had to be him.

But he kept flying. Thrown off as you were, you shrugged and kept walking. Maybe he’s heading for Mos Eisley instead, you thought.

~~~~

You had the next day off. You were sitting in your living room when a knock sounded at your door. You sat up straight and reached for your dagger, creeping up to the door until a familiar voice called for you. 

You scoffed and dropped your guard, swinging the door open. 

“Hey, Shinyface-” 

You took in the scene before you. Your friend wasn’t alone.  

In the Mandalorian’s arms was a small, green creature. You looked back up to his visor, your jaw dropped. He glanced between you and the little guy.

“I need your help.” 

When he came inside and explained what happened, you hung on his every word. It shocked you to hear about his adventures with this little guy, how much of a fuss the Empire was making over him. 

The creature cooed from its perch in his arm. He let it down, and it waddled around on your floor. 

“Is it hungry or anything? Not sure what it eats but I’ve got… stuff.” 

He chuckled. The sound was deep, gravely. It felt like a gentle hug to your eardrum. 

“He’s fine.” 

The two of you watched him with a calm silence surrounding you. Even though you couldn’t see the Mandalorian’s face, something told you he was smiling under there as he gazed at the baby.  “So then,” you started, “what can I help you with?” 

He let out a sigh. 

“That’s… well, it’s a big ask. I- I won’t mind if you say no.” 

“Spit it out, tin man,” you said with a smile. 

He glanced down at the baby again before returning his gaze to you. 

“I want you to come with me. Help me with the kid.” 

Your brow narrowed. 

“Me? Help with the kid?” 

“I know it’s a lot, but you’re a really skilled fighter. And you’re very capable. And I don’t know how often we’ll be coming back here, depending on if the Empire comes for him again or something else decides to come along. And I’ve got some… other things I need to figure out, too.” 

He paused and wrung his gloved fingers together. An image of his bare hands flashed in your mind’s eye, the memory of their warmth making your hand tingle. 

“I at least wanted to see you one more time, since I know you wanting to leave is probably a longshot. It won’t be easy, but-”

He sighed, and didn’t finish. 

You looked at him, his helmet now tipped down to stare at the ground. The baby made his way to the Mandalorian’s feet and wrapped his little hands around one of his boots. 

You smiled. What a sight, you thought.  

Your mind wandered, sifting through your memories of the past few months. Meeting the Mandalorian set off a course of little changes in your life; at first they weren’t great, but then they became positive. You wouldn’t trade any of them for the galaxy. 

The thought of not seeing him, potentially ever again, made your gut coil up. 

Logically, it made no sense. It was risky, dangerous, there was no way of knowing what would become of any of you. And you truly had no idea what else this guy had going on. Who knows what kind of trouble he’d be bringing you into? Your life here was safe, comfortable, and different enough each day to keep you engaged. 

You quirked your head and took another look at the Mandalorian. So much mystery still surrounded him; you’d learned bits and pieces about his culture over the time you spent together, the gist of which being that you’d probably never know what he looked like under that silver bucket. You were okay with learning slowly, and you respected what he did share, learning early on that he didn’t like to be pushed past that. 

But one nagging detail stuck out in your mind, one thing you really wanted to know. You leaned forward and rested your elbows on your knees. 

“Hey, man, what’s your name?” 

His helmet snapped back to you, tilted just a bit to the side. You shrugged. 

“I get it if you don’t want to share. But it only just occurred to me that I don’t know what else to call you other than various versions of big, shiny, silver man.” 

His shoulders shrugged with mild laughter, his head shaking.  

“Those have… kinda grown on me.” 

You smiled. There was your answer. Not only was this entire idea foolish, but it became even more so if you didn’t even know your companion’s name. The one person you’ll have to trust with your life, no matter what. 

Luckily for the two of you, you were a class-A fool. 

“Give me an hour.” 

You stood up and began walking towards your bedroom.

“... For what?” 

“To pack my shit and get someone else to run the cantina, T-face! I won’t make you admit how much you’d miss me, but we all know that’s really why you want me along.”  

The baby giggled. You could get used to that sound.

****

taglist: @booksarekindaneat @bluemacaron @c-a-v-a-l-r-y @whataenginerd @girlofchaos @christina-loves @literallydontlook @the-little-ewok @salome-c @dear-fifi @mswarriorbabe80

[luthien-t]

‘A spotted flycatcher pair nesting in the palm of a statue’ (by Zsolt Semperger, original post here)

[luthien-t]

✨MAIN MASTERLIST✨

Prompt List

Requests are Closed

◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇

STAR WARS

⚜ DIN DJARIN

◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇

MARVEL

⚜ MOON KNIGHT

◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇

[luthien-t]

Verity (Din Djarin x Reader)

On a remote planet, while chasing a bounty, you encountered a rare plant that produces the infamous "truth pollen". Not being able to lie is dangerous when you're in love with your Mandalorian employer.

Requested by Anon: #47: I forget how to speak whenever you’re around and it’s embarrassing.

A/N: OKAY LISTEN, my last 2 fics have gotten such bad engagement I don't have high hopes for this BUT if this goes good, would you want to see something where DIN is affected by the pollen?

Category: Mutual Pining - Involuntary Confession - Fluff - Angst If You Squint

Warnings: Swearing

You should have listened.

Though, to be fair, the Mandalorian had never explicitly told you to stay in the Crest- you saw it more as a strong suggestion. It was a new planet, some dirt ball in the middle of Wild Space that had been long forgotten by any traders or travelers. The bounty hunter had warned you to stay inside and you'd simply waved him off.

Now, laid out flat on your back, you thought he might have been right.

Your body protested against any attempt to get up and you opted to just still for a long, long moment. In your defense, you had just violently tumbled down into a rock bed.

You hissed, suddenly aware of the blood trickling down your cheek.

You thought you might have broken a bone or two, but with the 'wiggle' check you were pleasantly surprised to find nothing had snapped. Nothing other than your pride, that is.

Lush greenery pressed against your skin, soft leaves, and gentle blades of grass lathered into the landscape. The air was crisp, and as you started to regain control of your senses you realized you'd fallen into a small clearing. It was relatively shaded, with tall trees leaning over to shelter the small oasis you'd stumbled upon.

Forcing yourself up onto your elbows, your eyes widened as you drank in the sight before you. There were flowers everywhere.

The flora was a color you couldn't even begin to comprehend, a mixture of violet that made you think of the most tempting and delightful sins.

Where were you?

But you couldn't focus on the logistics of your situation, not when there was a wonder of nature less than two feet away. Where had these flowers come from? The teardrop petals fluttered lightly in the breeze, and suddenly your mind was consumed by the thought of their texture. You wondered if they felt like silk... If you could just touch them to test your theory, you could be on your merry way. You were sure of it.

Pain and injury were forgotten as you stood to your feet slowly, feeling as though you were having an out-of-body experience when you approached the plant. It was almost glowing up close and you couldn't understand how this shit hole of a planet could have created something so ethereal.

You reached for the flower eagerly, awaiting the soft touch of those pretty petals.

By the time you realized something was wrong, it was too late.

___

You wheezed, rubbing the length of your sleeve against your nose. The trek back had been far longer than you'd anticipated and you knew Mando was going to be pissed.

Coincidentally, the hunter appeared to be on his way out as you approached, equipped with all of his "work" apparatus. Had he not found the bounty yet?

"Where have you been?"

His words were sharp and you winced, slowing your pace to a sheepish shuffle. When he promptly unslung his rifle, you realized that he wasn't going hunting, he was about to launch a one-man rescue party.

You couldn't tell him the truth, he would follow you around for months if you did. Constantly supervising you for the sake of your safety.

But instead of the excuses you had prepared, when you opened your mouth to respond, different words formed on your tongue.

"I was exploring and got lost."

Your jaws snapped shut instantly and you slapped a hand over your lips. Why had you just said that?

The Mandalorian's shoulders raised, instantly irritated with how blatantly you blew off his advice. You hadn't even sounded guilty, just factual.

"I told you that was a bad idea," he griped, turning on his heel. "What if something had happened? What if you'd gotten hurt and I couldn't find you in time?"

He stomped back into the ship and you followed guiltily behind, trailing him to the armory as he begun to offload his weapons. There was pressure in your chest at his words and at first glance, you thought it was just remorse for making him worry. When your mouth opened to respond where you hadn't wanted to, you realized it was something else.

"I did get hurt."

You stumbled back, throwing both hands over your mouth. The Mandalorian stiffened, softly placing the items in his hand against the table.

"Where?"

Again, the words fell from your lips involuntarily, "Everywhere. I fell into a rock bed."

He said nothing as he turned around, watching your panic increase when you couldn't gain control over your own tongue.

"I can't stop talking," you gasped, terror crawling along the length of your chest until it lodged itself firmly in your throat. "I don't want to say any of this."

Before you noticed he'd even moved, the bounty hunter filled your vision, gently ushering you to a cushioned bench you had created. He set you down, before crouching in front of you.

"Did you touch any plants you've never seen before?" While the words sounded calm, you could hear the underlying dread in his tone.

"Yes." You let loose a soft sob.

"What color?"

"Violet."

"Shit," he hissed.

When your chest began to heave with trepid breaths, Mando raised his hands quickly.

"No, no, it's okay. Don't panic, it won't hurt you," he soothed, nodding softly. "The effects will wear off soon."

You shook your head, dropping your face into the palms of your hands. You should have just listened to him from the beginning, he wasn't talking out of his ass, the hunter was only trying to help you. Why did you insist on fighting him every damned step of the way?

"What did I touch?" You asked, the tone hopeless even when muffled by your palms.

There was a short silence, as though Mando was bracing himself. "It's a rare flower. The pollen..."

He trailed off and you lifted your face from where you hid. The hunter was still crouched in front of you, mere inches from your body, watching you as he deliberated his next words. He was so close that it set your heart rocketing against your rib cage, and you wondered what he looked like when he was in deep thought.

Pressure built in your chest. You ground your teeth shut.

"It acts as a truth serum," he finished solemnly. "You can't lie."

The ground felt like it had been ripped out from underneath you. This was bad, this was so fucking bad.

"No," you rasped, shaking your head adamantly. "No, no, this isn't good."

The Mandalorian leaned back on his haunches, hands resting together against his thighs. You were sure that you looked crazy, telling the truth wasn't exactly a curse.

"I'm not going to take advantage of this," the hunter murmured, and if you hadn't known any better, you would have thought that he sounded almost hurt. "I won't ask questions you don't want to answer."

"You won't need to," you moaned miserably, throwing your head right back into your hands.

"What are you so afraid of?" Mando stretched his hand towards you and you were touched by his concern. Gloved fingers rested gently against your shoulders, sending your heart into overdrive.

"You!" The word was barely a gasp but it was as if they had burned him. He snatched his arm away and leaned back, watching you in what you could only imagine was shock and hurt. It was as if you had slapped him.

Your chest squeezed in your chest and before you'd realized what you were doing you gripped his hand tightly. "Not like that. I trust you, I trust you with everything in me."

There was a soft silence as he tilted his visor to watch where your fingers interlocked. You thought he might have been uncomfortable for a second there until he gave them a gentle squeeze. He was warm despite the leather, and at that moment you would have killed to touch his skin, vulnerable and human and real.

"Most open you've ever been," Mando snorted but it wasn't humorous, just quiet. "And it's when you're forced to."

Pressure built in your chest once again, and you tried to grit your teeth and cage the incoming confession. No matter how hard you tried, your mouth had a mind of its own.

"I forget how to speak whenever you’re around and it’s embarrassing," you rasped. "I don't hide away on purpose."

Red hot humiliation flared beneath your skin, heating your body up in a crashing wave. You felt your cheeks burn, sweat collecting against the back of your neck.

Tears gathered in your eyes and you were grateful that you had turned your face away from him earlier.

"Do you want me to leave?" He asked gently after a long silence.

You wanted to curl up in a ball and die.

"No," you said quickly, throwing your hands to your mouth in an attempt to muffle the next words. "If you leave I'll never forget how embarrassing this was and will think that you're disgusted with me for the rest of our time together."

You tried to gesture for him to go, shooing him away with your hands despite what you had just admitted. For the first time ever, the Mandalorian looked so torn that he just trembled.

You could see the shake in his fingers, the way his body leaned this way, and then that.

"I can't walk away if it means that you'd be living like..." He trailed off, breathing heavily from beneath the beskar. "Why would you ever disgust me?"

You sobbed.

Throwing yourself to your feet, you tried to scramble away before your mouth moved. Anything to stop what would have been a sledgehammer to this delicate friendship you had fallen into. True to character, you just tripped over yourself, falling backward into the wall roughly.

The hunter shot to his feet, immediately trying to provide aid that you desperately swatted away.

"Because I love you."

The words fell from your lips, like a weeping whimper, but they might as well have been shouted from the top of the Crest. The way he froze in front of you showed you exactly how badly this was going to go.

"You're a Mandalorian, you're my employer, I'm nothing you've ever wanted and I love you. You'll find me disgusting for ruining this over stupid feelings and for looking at what I could never deserve."

This time, there was no silence like you thought there would be. You thought he would have turned on his heel and left, or yelled, or just left you there to simmer in silence as he stared.

Instead, he gripped your shoulders tightly.

"You think you don't deserve me?" He hissed.

You stared at him through teary lashes, bewildered. The word formed and you didn't fight it, too shocked to even comprehend what was happening.

"Yes."

He watched you for a long moment, fingers tightening against your skin. You wondered what was going through his head, where his emotions were leading him. You prayed that he wouldn't grow disgusted the longer he thought about it. You begged any deity that you could think of that he would move on and forget that this disaster had happened.

But the Mandalorian was anything but predictable.

"You love me?" His voice was hard.

Your lips trembled. "Yes."

"For how long?"

"When you saved the village in Sorgan. I knew then."

When he didn't respond, the adrenaline in your system left you shaking. You hated this, you wanted to die, you wanted to be anywhere other than in his arms.

"You said you wouldn't take advantage of this," you whispered, leaning away from him. "You said you wouldn't ask..."

The hunter's fingers softened against your skin, "you weren't going to tell me?"

You shook your head, "never."

Putting him in such an uncomfortable position was the last thing you had ever wanted for him. He was constantly under stress, rarely did anything go right for him and you were convinced that the poor man had the worst luck in the world. You didn't want to add to that, you wanted to be helpful, not a burden.

Especially not like this.

"I'm not taking advantage of you," he murmured, finally. "I just need to know if you're telling the truth."

You scoffed, casting your gaze to the side. "I can't lie."

"Now," Mando said softly, the intimate whisper trailing along the length of your skin. "I'm trying to find the courage."

You blinked up at him as he leaned you back against the durasteel wall, heart tripping in your chest. What was happening?

His hand slowly raised from your shoulder, to brush against your cheek, to then rest against your eyes. Darkness flooded your vision, and your other senses went into overdrive. You could smell the smokey scent of the hunter before you, and distantly you wondered how he always managed to smell of woodfire and spice.

There was a soft, metallic hiss from somewhere above you and you flinched.

"Can I kiss you?"

You choked on your own breath, chest heaving from the weight of his words. That simple, small question. For once, throughout this whole ordeal, you were glad that your mouth moved before you could direct it.

"You can."

There was a soft huff from above you.

"Do you want me to kiss you?"

This time, it was you and not the pollen that answered.

"Yes."

And when he smiled this time, it was against your lips.

While the Mandalorian smelt of fire, battle, and blood, Din Djarin tasted sweet.

[luthien-t]

Me in my room daydreaming about getting absolutely fkn railed by a man that could easily snap my neck

[luthien-t]

[luthien-t]

you ever really get in the Writing Zone™ and everything’s going super great and awesome and then you write that one sentence. and you have to take a break and think about how to phrase it for 6 hours

[luthien-t]

Love how this poster suggest that Mr. Knight is this charismatic fuckboy type:

And then you watch the show and he just

[luthien-t]

AHAAHHHHHH THE WAY I SQUEALED AT THAT :’))))) this was so lovely omg

learning mando’a — din djarin

summary: in an attempt to become closer with your mandalorian friend, you try to learn mando’a

notes: no warnings, just a lil fluff piece that can be interpreted as romantic. u can never go wrong with a mechanic!reader. GN, as always <3

…🍓…

life on board the razor crest was steady, being a mechanic was second nature to you. you could look at a machine and take it apart and piece it back together in your head within seconds; could fix a speeder with your eyes closed. and there’s the problem. though mando looks like a suspiciously humanoid droid (don’t let him hear you say that), he wasn’t a machine. he was your friend and your employer but before all of that he was a mandalorian.

you weren’t going to pretend to understand his creed, or his people but you at least wanted to try. so, you trawled each and every market along your travels for any information you could find. the holonet was pretty useless in this case, they were such a secretive people.

mando was obviously confused by your behaviour but he never mentioned it, not to you at least.

it was on a tiny desert planet when you happened upon a stall selling books. real, actual books. a shelf of them, placed next to a table of little ornaments. something in your gut told you that this was the place. you turned to your mandalorian friend.

“uh, you two go ahead. i’m just gonna—“ you pointed at the stall.

mando tilted his head and shared a glance with grogu.

“sure,” he said finally, continuing on his mission to find ration bars.

you crossed the street, eyes set on your target.

“morning,” you greeted the man behind the stall, “do you have any books on mando’a?”

…🍓…

you spent your night pouring over your new book, committing every word to memory. in the privacy of your bunk, you whispered to yourself. trying to make your tongue wrap around the unfamiliar words.

after a few days of learning, you began to implement your knowledge.

“i should be back in two days.” mando tells you, passing the kid over into your arms. he patted his head lightly, making you smile.

“see you then,” you said, “oya.”

stay alive.

behind his helmet, mando blinked.

he opened his mouth to reply but you were already carrying the child over to his crayons and finger-paints. he shook his head and walked out of the ship.

“ulyc,” you called to his back.

careful.

mando said nothing, so you assumed the noise of the ramp pulling up had drowned out your voice.

meters away, mando swallowed harshly. what were you doing to him? he’d never before had a relationship like the one you both shared, never had this strong of a friendship. the idea of someone caring he’s safe was still so foreign. was he really that touch-starved that you speaking mando’a made his cheeks flush? apparently so.

din grimaced at himself and forced his mind to focus on the bounty. he had people to provide for now.

…🍓…

the next instance was weeks later, the control panel was sending signals all over the place, turning the lights of the cockpit on and off, making an alarm sound every few minutes. it had woken both you and grogu from your afternoon nap.

you climbed up to the cockpit with him on your back, little hands holding your neck.

when you reached the mandalorian he was frantically smashing buttons and pulling levers in an attempt to stop the noise. you gently pried grogu from your back and passed him to mando.

“told you this piece of junk was haunted.” you quipped, reaching into your belt for a screwdriver.

he huffed out a quiet laugh.

“i didn’t mean to wake you.” he said.

you yawned a little and then dropped to the floor to get to the wires of the controls.

“s’fine, alor. we’re hungry now anyway, aren’t we, buddy?”

grogu cooed in agreement.

“what did you call me?” mando asked.

your hands stilled as you pulled two wires apart. the alarm stopped sudddenly.

“alor.” you repeated hesitantly, “boss, right?”

he said nothing.

“why are you doing this?” he questioned, leaning forward in the pilots chair to look down at you.

“doing what?”

“don’t pretend you don’t know,” he said stonily.

“don’t know wh—“

“what are you doing to me?” mando demanded, though his words had no real heat behind them.

you panicked then and shuffled quickly out to sit up and look up at him.

“mando’a isn’t a closed language, is it?”

“no, it’s just—“ he stopped himself, “why?”

you blinked at him.

“because…you’re a mandalorian?”

“you learned mando’a for me?” he questioned.

the lights flickered.

“i’m not fluent,” you admitted, “but yes.”

mando looked away from you, out at the stars. he said nothing for a few moments, then grogu’s tummy rumbled. you grinned and forced your unease away to poke his stomach gently.

“you hungry, ad’ika?”

…🍓…

at present, the two of you were sat in the cockpit well into the night, enjoying each other’s company.

“aliit.” mando quizzed.

“family or clan,” you answered easily, swinging your legs in the co-pilots chair.

“osik?”

you laughed softly, “shit.”

“good.” mando praised. something twisted pleasantly in your stomach. (you’d think about that later)

“beskar-gam?”

“armour.”

“burcyan?”

“friendship!” you asked quickly, smiling triumphantly. he watched your face carefully.

“din.”

“din?” you hummed, eyes looking at the ceiling in thought, “din, din, din.”

the mandalorian let out a shaky breath.

“i don’t know that one.” you admitted with a frown.

“my name, cyare.” din said softly, “it’s my name.”