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pascallllllll1 · 1 year

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The Happiest Place On Earth

Request: “Hi can I request a one shot where reader and Pedro Pascal have a daughter named Esmeralda? They go to Disney for the first time, they dress her up in a Grogu costume and go visit the Mando and everybody go crazy to see Pedro and his daughter.”

Pedro Pascal x Reader

Summary: follows the request above, I also made reader pregnant. Lots of fluff. Esmeralda’s age wasn’t specified so I made her like 4/5?

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: pregnancy, suggests smut but no actual smut.

Packing the last of the necessary items you’ll need for the day ahead in your backpack, you zip up the bag and readily set it by the front door of your room. Esmeralda had specifically requested that daddy book her in the fairytale suite so she could get her beauty rest like a real princess and being wrapped around her tiny finger Pedro went online later that day to book said room. The room your growing family of three is currently getting ready in. Cressessing your small bump you cross the room approaching your struggling husband who’s trying to fight your five year old into putting sunscreen on.

“NO DADDY!” She screeches, resisting his best efforts to apply the cream to her face and ears.

“Princesa please, the quicker we finish this up the sooner we can leave and check out all the cool stuff.” He attempts to reason with her. Stubborn times such as this one remind you exactly how alike you both are, your living breathing karma of what you put your own parents through. You decide to throw Pedro a bone and come to his long awaited rescue. You fake gasp obnoxiously loud to catch your daughters attention;

“Oh. My. Gosh. Guess who I just found out is here?!” You ask Esmeralda dramatically, squatting eye level with her. Pedro laughs and moves over to make room for you next to him.

“Who?!” She asks, eyes widening in excitement.

“Grogu and Mando!!” You exclaim jumping up and bouncing around. Esmeralda screams at the information and launches herself forward tacking Pedro with a huff.

“WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL US DADDY!!!!”

“Careful,” You playfully chastise her. “Daddy’s getting old can’t be as rough with him or he’ll break on us.” You joke causing Esmeralda to throw her head back and fall over sideways exaggeratedly in a fit of laughter.

“I was gonna say sorry and give you your surprise mi hija but not if you two meanies are ganging up on me!” He pouts.

“Aw I’m sorry baby.” You coo, coming up to him to cup his face and kissing the patchy bald spot you love oh so much on his scruffy jaw.

“I promise to make you feel better later.” You whisper low enough for his ears only. Pedro closes his eyes and groans at your hidden meaning before standing to his full height and making his way over to his bag to dig for Esmeralda’s surprise. When he returns she’s waiting patiently trying to get a peak at plastic wrapped, outfit? tucked behind his back.

“IT’S A GROGU COSTUME!!!!!—“

“Wowww, inside voice please! I know it’s very exciting hun but there’s other people in the building.-“ He leans forward swooping Esmeralda up in his arms so she could further inspect the outfit.

“Sorry, daddy.”

“Thank you for apologising hun, it’s alright.” God he’s so patient and caring with her. Every time you witness this paternal side of Pedro feels like a gift. You really are the luckiest woman in the world blessed with the most loving, doting husband who excels at fatherhood beyond your wildest dreams and taking to it like a fish to water. This is it. Everything you’ve ever wished for is currently giggling to each other while dressing in the adorable costume. Your beautiful family, that soon but not nearly soon enough your baby boy will be joining.

“What do you think mommy, am I pretty?” Esmeralda asks, twirling around in a circle on one foot then posing with her hands on her hips. The large floppy green ears bounce and swing with every movement, she’s drowning in the baggy brown fabric of the robe, her bright pink converse sneakers peeking out from underneath, and wears a smile that says she’s never been happier.

“I think you look gorgeous baby, right daddy?” You ask teasingly, trying but ultimately failing to hold back a smirk. He crosses his arms and huffs. He’ll get you back for all your teasing later.

“Si te ves muy hermosa hija.” Pedro confirms smiling.

***

You follow and observe from behind while pushing Esmeralda’s wagon stroller as she leads your husband hand in hand through the bustling crowds towards the Star Wars: Galaxy’s Edge attractions.

“Where would you like to go first, sweet girl?” Pedro asks, drawing Esmeralda’s wandering gaze to himself.

“I wanna make a lightsaber!!” She exclaims jumping up and down, her big ears slapping her face as she does causing both you and Pedro to laugh.

“Of course, let’s go head over there to… Black Spire Outpost.” He says pointing at the entrance of the workshop.

While Pedro pays for Esmeralda to do the activity you stand with your daughter admiring the beautifully staged rock cavern you're in. You’ve always loved and appreciated the Star Wars universe and its beauty. So many people and stories to explore within it that could continue going on infinitely. A warmth blossoms in your chest thinking about Pedro getting to be a part of that. He’d introduced everyone to a new character and without facial expression, only body language and tone of voice showed us the many layers and personality of The Mandalorian, Din Djarin. You are so insanely proud of him.

A kiss on your cheek and a hand drawing small circles on your belly brings you back to the present.

“Ok we’re all set, vamos!” Pedro announces giddily to which is met by loud cheers from your daughter.

The group you're with is small, usually that’s a positive but at the moment with such few faces amongst everyone to look at, your husbands very pretty and recognizable one is just that, more recognizable. You meet one of Savi’s Gatherers outside his workshop and Esmeralda chooses between four different hilts to build her lightsaber with, all having a different theme. Peace and Justice. Power and Control. Element Nature. Protection Defence. After hard consideration she diligently comes to the conclusion of choosing the Element Nature hilt which embodies the force, but mainly because she thought it was the coolest looking.

Next for the activity Esmeralda gets to choose a Kyber crystal, picking between red, blue, green and violet she confidently swipes the violet crystal.

“Now we get to put it together mommy!” She says smiling up at you with her crystal on display then runs to assemble the lightsaber with the help of her father. The process of putting everything together thankfully didn’t take long and in no time Esmeralda was wielding a blade of her own. By now you could feel the stares from those around you multiplying and you grab Pedro’s hand to signal his attention;

“Baby I think people are starting to notice who you are.” You speak quietly into his ear, playing it off like a playful kiss. He glances around inconspicuously and realises you’re right.

“Hey princesa, how ‘bout we go find some snacks, daddy’s getting hungry. Sound good babe?” He turns his head patiently waiting for confirmation from you. You peck his lips and respond with a, sounds good, and move to start making your way to the cantina cafe.

***

“Hi! could I get three small blue milks.. two roasted pork wrap Ronto Roasters and.. one grilled sausage, please!” You smile up at the cashier, she confirms your order and you tap your card on the scanner to pay then move closer to your family while you wait.

“Three small blue mills!” You grab your drinks thanking the worker and pass Esmeralda her own. She’s off in her own little world enthralled by the new strange drink.

“Babe,” Pedro says, getting your attention, then thanking you when you hand him his cup. You look up at him, eyebrows raising in question.

“People are starting to take photos and record, it’s only a matter of time before they start coming up to me-“

“-Two roasted pork wraps and one grilled sausage wrap!” Pedro sighs, moving over to grab the food, smiling at and thanking the worker again. He passes the food out and Esmeralda continues to zone out of yours and Pedro’s conversation and focus on the food set in front of her.

“How about you and Esmeralda finish up here and head towards a gift shop, I know she wants to grab some stuff for home. I’ll go use the washroom and walking around alone gives the fans some time to approach me without interfering with family time. I’ll come meet up with you both after a few photos.”

“Works with me.” You agree, smiling.

“Esmeralda, you wanna go space shopping while daddy goes pee?” The question has her snapping her head up at you and rushing to clean up her mess from eating.

“Ya! Ya! Let’s go, mommy!” She reaches for your hand not being used to push the stroller to hold and moves to leave, yelling over her shoulder to her dad;

“Don’t pee your pants, daddy! Mommy won’t be there to clean you up!” Pedro lets out an obnoxiously loud belly laugh that makes you giggle back at him before letting your daughter pull you down the path towards the promise of toys. After you and Esmeralda leave Pedro unwrap his food and scarfs it down quickly on his way to the washroom.

Esmeralda spends 20 minutes sorting through the many different options to bring home with her in Dok-Ondar’s Den of Antiquities. By the time the two of you make it up to the cash register she’s piling shirts, stuffies, one lanyard, a handful of pins and a few toys onto the checkout counter. When you paid the outrageous cost for her small hoard of items you tried to reason with yourself that it was Esmeralda’s first trip to Disney, special occasion means special treatment, right? As you’re walking out of the shop you spot Pedro finishing up with some fans a few feet ahead of you. Immediately, Esmeralda spots her daddy and is rushing over to him and jumping up into his arms.

“Daddy! I wanna show you all my new toys!” The group of people now forming around Pedro laugh and gush over your precious daughter, commenting on how much she resembles him. Esmeralda, like her father, soaks up with attention like a sponge and loves every second of it. As far as she’s concerned this group of people are for her and not her father. They all adore her Grogu outfit and one person tells Pedro he should’ve dressed as Mando to match.

“It’s always a pleasure to meet all of you and I’m sorry I can’t stick around longer but I have to get back to my family now. Everyone have a good time and enjoy yourselves!“ Pedro waves and smiles to everyone, carrying Esmeralda back over to you and continuing on in a new direction.

“How was that?” You ask him curiously. He turns to you and huffs out a breath;

“Good. I love getting to meet and interact with my fans, I wouldn’t be anywhere without their support. But sometimes I wish I could draw that line of time and place a little more clearly to them, ya know.” He shares with you. You nod in agreement and wrap an arm around his waist to comfort him.

“Yeah, I get it.” You say staring up at him. He leans down and softly kisses your lips letting them hover after.

“Ew! No kissing!” Esmeralda gasps grossed out before falling into a fit of laughter. Pedro attacks your face in kisses to bug her more and all you can do is laugh and enjoy this time with your family.

“Ok! Ok! Ah, ok!! Let’s go check out something else, huh?” You question both the Pascal’s before you.

“Falcon one next!”

“To the Millennium Falcon, vamos mi familia!!!” Pedro shouts with a loud clap of his hands.

The three of you spent the rest of the day exploring the galaxy via rides and interactive activities, gorging yourselves on as many sweet treats as your bodies could handle. Later that night you’d reward your husband and show him how much you appreciated what a perfect father and spouse he was. Meanwhile twitter and Instagram would become flooded with photos of your family adventuring Disney, Esmeralda as Grogu causing fans to go wild.

Open to requests!!

#pedro pascal #the mandalorian #din djarin #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction

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pedge-stuff · 10 months

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it's not that kind of cold shower (pedro x gn/m!reader)

a/n: POLL RESULTS ARE IN... and this was the result! would y'all still be interested in a "pedro takes care of sick reader" fic, too?

(this story specifically comes at the request of two anons, who requested bathing/showering while sick, and emetophobia. I don't have much experience on the latter, so I apologize if it's incorrect??)

you knowwwwww it had to be the Dieter pic, tho.

as always, same vague universe as “marked.” drop a line if you have a sug.

summary: 2am on the bathroom floor.

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You wake up alone.

This doesn’t register, at first. You roll over, running a hand over your face as you blearily open your eyes. You’ve gotten used to having a bed to yourself, with Pedro’s current production schedule. (Although the dogs always end up migrating from the foot of the bed in the middle of the night.)

Except, the bed beside you is still a little warm. Pedro is home— has been home, for two days now. He took a car straight from the Disney lot to LAX, and was on a flight to JFK about three hours after the voice work for Mando wrapped. Something about “needing to see his boy,” which he swore was Edgar, with a wink and a kiss blown over Facetime.

The room is dark, still, and quiet. But as you sit up, a sliver of light becomes noticeable under the crack of the bathroom door. You blink the last dredges of sleep away, waiting for him to finish his middle-of-the-night pee. It’s nice, having him here. Waking up beside him always kinda feels like a luxury; you savor it while you have it. His next job— some stupid commercial for a game on an app? He explained it twice but neither of you really understand it— doesn’t start until the end of the month. If you fall asleep before he finishes peeing, you’ll miss an opportunity to fall asleep wrapped around him. These are sacred in their scarcity, at the moment.

Except, the toilet never flushes. After a few long moments, you swing your legs over the side of the bed.

A quiet knock yields nothing. Frowning, you gently push the door open.

Knees to his chest, head propped backwards on the edge of the tub, Pedro is lying on the bathroom floor. His eyes are squeezed shut against the fluorescents.

“Baby,” you whisper, “Pedge, what’s going on?” You kneel down, rubbing a gentle thumb over his kneecap. He’s just in a t-shirt and boxers, the cold tile leaving his exposed calves littered with pinprick goosebumps.

Without opening his eyes, Pedro grimaces. “I dunno,” he says quietly, in a rasp that makes you wince. “Woke up feeling like this.”

“Nauseous?”

The muscle of his jaw twitches. “Hate throwing up.”

“I know, love, I’m sorry.” You bring your hand upwards, carding a few fingers through his hair before palming his forehead. Alarmed, you brush it with the back of your hand, as well. “You’re really burning up, Pedro, Jesus.”

His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows reflexively, but says nothing. Then swallows again.

You reach for the closed lid of the toilet, before returning to your feet. “If you need to throw up, throw up. You’ll feel better afterwards.”

Busying yourself with filling a glass by the sink, you purposefully don’t look, attempting to give him some privacy. But he doesn’t move. Barely lifts his head up, when you offer the water. A sheen of sweat glistens on hollow of his throat, and the collar of his sleep shirt (yours, actually— some soft old 5k thing he always reaches for) is damp.

“Fuck,” he whispers. “Thought I escaped the curse this time.”

The curse, of course, being your nickname for the way his body absolutely freaks out at the panic of having downtime. Without fail, every time he gets a break, he’s down with something— at best a cold, at worst, what was eventually dubbed the “shittiest Christmas present ever” last year. It’s like his immune system decides it’s on vacation, as well. You’ve started planning around it, blocking off the first few days he’s home just in case. After two days, though, it really seemed like he was in the clear.

Your train of thought is interrupted by the sounds of a grown man gagging. All you can do is kneel behind him, rubbing a hand softly down the length of his back. The muscles flex and tremble beneath as Pedro coughs and coughs. Any part of you that might have been grossed out, is eclipsed by concern. You can feel the heat of the fever through the thin cotton of his t-shirt.

When he finishes, you flush without looking while he reassumes his position against the tub. “M’sorry,” he says, after a sip of water. “Go back to sleep, I’m good.”

“Don’t apologize, and don’t be dumb.” You press a kiss to his shoulder before resting your cheek there for a moment. “You gonna puke again?”

His jaw clenches again. “I don’t think so?”

Abruptly, Pedro sits up, and you tense in anticipation of another round of heaving. Instead he reaches back, grabbing the collar of his shirt to tug it over his head. Lacking his usual gusto, he tosses it towards the hamper in the opposite corner of the bathroom, and misses spectacularly.

“I won’t tell the Lakers,” you tease, “if they call to offer a job.”

Pedro huffs a quiet laugh. “Snitches get stitches.”

“Real tough threat from the man on the bathroom floor.”

He pouts. “You have to nice to me, I puked. I could be on my death bed.”

You press another kiss to his shoulder; the skin is clammy. “America’s Peepaw Pedro Pascal Found Dead at 47, In Bathroom Like Elvis But Way Less Cool. Turn to A7 for story.”

“Now who sounds old! Who reads celebrity death announcements in tabloid magazines anymore?” The joking puts you at ease, a little. He is less green in the gills than he was when you found him, although the tops of his cheeks are still flushed with fever. It seems like he has to convince himself to reopen his eyes after every blink; his eyelids rest at half-mast.

“Mm. You got me there, I guess. Do you feel okay enough to go back to bed?”

Pedro runs a hand across his chest. “Think I might need to rinse off first.”

He braces himself on the edge of the tub, and you reach out a hand to steady him as he slowly rises to his feet. If his knees audibly crack, well, you didn’t hear anything.

Pulling off your own sleep shirt (his, also stolen; some old Fleetwood Mac shirt that hangs to your fingertips), you tuck it into the towel rack, and move to turn the shower on.

“What are you doing?” The invalid has paused changing with his boxers halfway down, in a way that would be so fucking funny if it wasn’t equally, achingly endearing.

“You are leaning on the counter to stand up right now. I’m not gonna let you slip and fall to your actual death in the shower.”

He looks down at his own hand in betrayal as you adjust the water to an acceptable lukewarm— not so cold as to be unbearable, but cool enough that it might take the edge off the fever. Pedro frowns mournfully as you step out of your own boxers.

You roll your eyes. “We will do this again when you can enjoy it.”

The shower is plenty big enough for the two of you, and you position yourself behind him, legs splayed, arms wrapped around his waist. Cheek smushed between his shoulder blades, close enough to let the warmth of his skin deflect the chill of the water.

It’s not really a shower for washing. Moreso a “stand under the water until you feel human again” type of rinse. But you twist anyways for the body wash Pedro likes, when you are sure he isn’t about to faint into the glass door. He sighs as you rub the gel across his shoulders, reaching around to wash the sweat from his chest and stomach. It does something to you, having him here— within arm’s reach, pliable, soft with sleep. Comfortable beside you.

You stay there awhile, letting the water wash over you, until you feel him sway, ever so slightly.

“Love,” you say softly.

“Mm?”

“Are you falling asleep?”

Pedro reaches blindly for the handle, twisting until the spray subsides. You place a kiss to the wet center of his back. Revel, one last time, in the feeling of his body against yours, before you hand him his towel.

There is a coordinated, albeit wearily measured, return to bed. Pedro foregoes a new shirt, choosing instead to fall face-first on top of the rumpled duvet. You track down some Tylenol PM, with fingers crossed that maybe this is just a 12-hour thing. But, just in case, the bathroom waste basket is also placed beside the bed.

Finally, you slip beneath the comforter, maneuvering your patient until he is at least partially covered as well. And then, in turn, allow him to manipulate you into precisely the position he wants to be held: your face tucks into the damp, curling hair at the base of his neck, arm wrapped snug around the middle of his torso, legs entangled.

In the morning, you’ll deal with the next hurdle. Hopefully not the next hurl. But for now, you sleep.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal one shot #pedro pascal x male reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal rpf #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fluff #the last of us #joel miller #joel miller x reader

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auroramoon-draws16 · 2 months

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Well, I’m feeling the vibes, so!

Assassin’s Creed x Star Wars

Desmond gets isekai’d into the arms of the Mandalorians. Lets say… Jaster time period, around Jango’s age or younger, and he saves Jaster because he has his Master Assassin skills.

I’m thinking: he’s thrown onto the planet and de-aged. Then Eagle Vision finds him a Target, Vizsla, in the middle of a battlefield and instinct says “stab that one” and Desmond goes “well, aight then” and stabs him. The Mandalorians are like :0 and adopt him on the spot.

Mandos love the new murder baby, and treat him well, and Desmond is like “I get a family?? YES!!!” Because ffs give this man (boy?) a parental figure (or a dozen) who love him unconditionally.

This is the Way.

#assassin's creed #desmond miles #star wars #mandalorians #jaster mereel #jango fett #arla fett #found family #isekai #crossover time bitches #mandalorian culture #this is the way

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rosepascal · 10 months

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pedro boys when you’re not feeling well

ft: Joel Miller, Din Djarin, Frankie Morales, Jack Daniels, Marcus Pike, Marcus Moreno, Max Phillips, Dieter Bravo

a/n: writing this in bed as i suffer from a stomach ache (maybe caused by exhausting travel day or it could be my acid reflux making my life hell idk) either way i need comfort from the boys. also first time writing a headcanon for dieter, might add max lord soon bc hes fine af

Joel Miller

Pre outbreak Joel would know exactly what to do to help. He’s dealt with his fair share of stomaches aches, fevers, colds etc. Sarah got sick a lot as a child so he knows the remedies and what makes someone feel better. He’ll cook u soup or make u toast and coax you into eating with kisses. He’ll make you drink water and let you sleep in his bed. Also gives you lots of cuddles

Post outbreak Joel still has those instincts buried in him when he sees you aren’t feeling well. He’s not as kissy as he used to be but he will do anything to help you feel better. If you even mention wanting soup or needing medicine he's out the door to get it for you. He’s a grump though so he’ll be a bit more blunt like telling u to sit and stop whining when you complain about him doing so much for you. But it comes from a place of love even if he won’t admit it. Still gives the best cuddles. You just have to ask.

Din Djarin

Mando is such a sweetheart. He’s been sick and injured himself but normally he’s on his own. Suffering by himself on his ship. But after meeting you he doesn’t feel that way anymore. Every injury is now treated by you. He never ever wants you to feel the way he used to feel so he’ll be right by your side. Returning the care and compassion you give him. He has bacta if you need it but sometimes you just have to ride out the sick feeling. He gets you whatever you want. Tasking Grogu to stay with you as he goes into town. He’ll take real good care of you until you’re back to normal.

Frankie Morales

Frankie, sweet Frankie. Oh he’s just a total sweetheart. He’s a bit of a worry wart though. Oh you should have seen him the first time his baby girl got sick. She cried in his arms and his heart broke because he couldn’t do anything to help her. He goes a little overboard sometimes. He’s at your side in an instant. Immediately jumping to the worst conclusion even if its just a stomach ache. He doesn’t like to see you sick because it worries him to no end. Even if you promise you’re okay. He probably has some cure he promises you will help that he learned in the military. But he can also make you mac and cheese and sit with you on the couch.

Jack Daniels

Whiskey is basically your maid when you are sick. He calls you a million sweet pet names as he lets you sit in his bed all comfy and brings you anything you ask for. He’ll also go to ginger for medicine, knowing whatever she can give you will have you right as rain in a day. He is a bit of a tease though. Saying stuff like “Poor baby.” and “Don’t feel good huh?” His tone is light and joking and you tend to play along. Pouting and nodding your head. Telling him that only his cuddles and that soup from the deli downtown is all you need. He’ll laugh but get it for you in a heartbeat.

Marcus Pike

Oh my god this man is the perfect partner when you are sick. At first you're pretty upset because you have to cancel your date with him. Date nights are already hard to plan given both of your jobs. He can tell something is wrong the moment he hears you over the phone. Even though you tell him that you're fine and promise to make it up to him he still shows up to your place 30 minutes later with food. He'll turn on an old movie and wrap you in a blanket and let you fall asleep in his arms.

Marcus Moreno

I feel like Marcus is also a pretty anxious guy but like Joel and Frankie he's got the dad knowledge on how to make someone feel better. Plus his mothers surefire cures. He comes after work because as much as he wishes, he can't miss work. But he's constantly messaging you to make sure you're okay. He offers to let you stay at his place but you don't want to get him or Missy sick. Though its a losing battle because both him and Missy don't care and want you around. Missy will keep you company while Marcus makes you tea and soup. The night ends with family cuddles and a lot of love.

Max Phillips

Vampires can't get sick like humans so there's no worry about getting him sick. Max wants you to feel better as soon as possible, mostly because you don't taste as good when you're sick and its not as fun for you. But also because he cares about your wellbeing of course. He's bit of a pain though because he's at work and you're texting him to pick you up some medicine and he's being a tease about it. Telling you how out of the way it is and how expensive it is but obviously he's going to get it for you. He just likes it when you beg :) He'll get you everything you ask for and more. As for cuddles he is happy to be your ice pack. He also offers to turn you so you don't have to feel like this ever again. Mostly joking, but a part of him isn't.

Dieter Bravo

Dieter will buy you all the expensive medicine and the fluffiest blankets and food from the highest end restaurant if it will make you feel better. Well it's his money but he has assistants to actually go and get it for him. Dieter is no stranger to feeling like shit so he knows what helps. Lots of snuggling in his bed, he won't let you leave unless its for the bathroom. Honestly, he's probably hungover in some capacity the same morning so its a lot of sleeping and being sick together.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #din djarin #din djarin x reader #frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #jack daniels #jack daniels x reader #agent whiskey #agent whiskey x reader #marcus pike #marcus pike x reader #marcus moreno #marcus moreno x reader #max phillips #max phillips x reader #dieter bravo #dieter bravo x reader

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papurgaatika · 1 month

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Howdy howdy buddies and happy mando Monday!!! Let's discuss my favorite boy!!!

(also this photo??? he's so soft I'll die)

Din cannot cook to save his life, like at all. He's been living off of ration packs for years and I think if you make him a homemade meal he'd melt into a puddle

BUT he's definitely a clean freak. He kept everything in a designated spot during all his years on the crest so the idea of a junk drawer stresses him out

Okay I know I said he can't cook and that he hasn't had a home cooked meal in decades but that boy will devour a sweet treat. like if you manage to find a little hard candy he'll pop one in his mouth and then put the helmet on

Re this last one, his kisses would then taste like whatever the star wars equivalent of a jolly rancher would be (my vote is he's a watermelon flavor kinda guy)

I know we saw his hair in the show, but I think he lets it get long under the helmet. He has to cut it himself and doesn't have the time to do it regularly so there's periods where his curls are just snaking down his neck and he only cuts it when it gets to a point where he can't push it up and out of his face

Also with cutting his hair,,,, he's not good at it?? He's taking scissors and snipping off as much as he needs to, but there's a bunch of uneven wonky bits in the back

Clearly he's touchstarved and immediately crumbled when you held his hand for the first time, but now he can't sleep without yalls fingers interlocked

LITTLE!! SPOON!! HE'S THE LITTLE SPOON!!!!!

He takes 3 minute cold showers *cough cough go read my fic cough cough*

He's definitely an acts of service person. Fixing things you mention offhand, letting you sleep in and making breakfast, things to just make your day easier.

But he LOVES words of affirmation!! he NEEDS words of affirmation. Like look at him, that's a sad sad man who needs to be told he's perfect and that he's your good boy

He's definitely put grogo in a baby bjorn. No I'm not accepting anyone's opinions on this.

I hope yall enjoyed this bc I love thinking about him so much. He's literally the love of my life, I can never love a real person how I love him, but yk what I'm okay with that!! Peace and love everyone, here's a photo of me every night before I go to bed <3

#din djarin fluff #din djarin x y/n #din dijarin x reader #din djarin #mando #the mandalorian #mando monday #papaya thoughts #the mandolarian #the mandalorian x y/n #live papaya reaction

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babydin · 1 year

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The Curvature of Beskar

- Din Djarin x f!reader (Fem!Mandalorian implied) - 18+, minors DNI! - Combat, Mommy kink, sub/dom content, That Boy Is A Bottom™️, praise kink, restraints, self pleasure (female), unprotected space sex (v!penetration), denied orgasm, don't moan too loud you'll wake the baby, aftercare for the good boy!! mentions of scars, trauma triggers implied but not written in tremendous detail. - 3032 words I’M SORRY! - Comments/likes appreciated. Requests are open! A/N: Do I need to apologize for this? lmaooo inspired mostly by Mando's big bottom energy I won't hear a thing otherwise.

“Do you yield?” you echo. “Yes.” His answer comes all too quickly, not because he wants you to stop, but because he’s so eager to please. So eager to please you. And you are more than happy to oblige, “Yes what?” You can practically hear those lashes batting in the silence, his head ducks a little and with his free hand he tucks it under his helmet and your heart flutters a little. It didn’t matter how many times Din revealed his face to you, every time was like the first time.

It was almost too easy. He made it too easy.

‘Combat practice’ is what he called it. You knew it was foreplay to him, and you knew what kind of mood he was in when he let you get the upper hand every single round. You would swear you could hear him moan under his helmet every time you shoved him, every time you disarmed him, every time you pinned him to the wall. You craved the touch of his lips on yours but you would never take his helmet off without his permission; that was the only thing you let him have control of. “A moment.” he begged, keeling over and resting his hands on his knees trying to catch his breath. You allowed him that, turning his back so you could move to the bottle of Spotchka on the table, leaning slightly to the living quarters of the ship to check there was no movement from Grogu’s room and he was still fast asleep. Din played dirty and you weren’t surprised when he made an attempt to jump you from behind, you had already seen right through his ‘I’m so tired and need a moment’ act. His arm wrapped around your throat, both of your Beskar plates made a clunking sound as they came into contact, he was heavier than you, but he allowed you to be stronger. You grabbed his arm, and twisted it around his back and before he had time to react you swung your leg around his and knocked his ankles from under him, forcing him to his knees. He definitely moaned that time, there was no hiding that one, his breath coming in short, sharp bursts through the respiratory filter in his helmet. You pull yours off with one hand and lean down to his level, “Do you yield?” you asked in a low tone. He tips his head back and points his face towards you, you can’t see his face but you can imagine it; you’ve seen his face, he chose not to hide from you, in private moments, in moments of intimacy, when it was just the two of you and Grogu alone on your ship and the world could not intrude, Din Djarin was not a Mandalorian. He was just Din. You can imagine his big brown eyes pleading silently, his soft lips pursed ever so slightly, his square, stubbled jaw tight as his teeth bit down. You pull on his arm and he whimpers as the muscles in his shoulder twist in a way they were not meant to do. You love to hear him whimper; oh how he walks the walk, and talks a big game but he’s putty in your hands with the right moves, “Do you yield?” you echo. “Yes.” His answer comes all too quickly, not because he wants you to stop, but because he’s so eager to please. So eager to please you. And you are more than happy to oblige, “Yes what?” You can practically hear those lashes batting in the silence, his head ducks a little and with his free hand he tucks it under his helmet and your heart flutters a little. It didn’t matter how many times Din revealed his face to you, every time was like the first time. Dark curls bounced free as he pulled the helmet from his head and he squinted and blinked a few times as his eyes adjusted to the light, then he rolled his neck again so he could look up at you once more, face to face this time, properly, and when Din looked at you he always looked right into your eyes. “Yes mommy.” he corrected. You smile and let him go, running a hand over his cheek, “Good boy.” you praise, and you can feel him fighting the urge to not melt into your touch. “Come on, I think that’s enough for one night.” You offer your hand and he takes it as he rises to his feet. He’s quieter when he’s got his helmet off, you’ve noticed that in the years you’ve known him, his shyness always gets the best of him. You lead him to the sleeping quarters you’d shared together for some years now, and you set his helmet down on the table beside his side of the bed for easy access in case he needs it in the night. You don’t feel the same way about yours as he does so you leave it anywhere before you start to remove your armor. He sits on the bed and he watches you, you wonder if he’s watching for his own pleasure or if he’s waiting for permission or help to disrobe himself. You continue down to your underarmour, then hang your Beskar as you usually do, in storage designed specifically for your armor. You turn back to him and you remove the thick under armor, leaving you in a thin tank top that shows your nipples through it and a tight pair of leggings. You see Din’s eyes map out your body, this isn’t the first time he’s seen you like this but - much in the same way you were when he took off his helmet - every time was like the first time with him. You slipped out of the leggings first, no underwear beneath them, then moved towards him and put your hands on his shoulders. Your hands followed the curve of the plates covering his upper arms, the metal cold and warm all at once. “Can I touch you?” he asked quietly. “Hm?” you make a sound asking him to repeat himself. Din’s Adam's apple falls then rises back up in his throat as he swallowed thickly, “Please can I touch you, mommy?” Your pussy throbs, “Not yet, baby boy.” Your fingers busy themselves across the chest plate of his armor, follow the lines of the breastplate, then the part that separates and covers his ribs. You straddle his lap and as your thighs separate it becomes obvious to you how wet you are, you don’t know what he did or how he did it but he somehow always has a way of getting you so aroused, you must have the same effect on him because now you’re in his lap you can feel something familiar bulging through his under armor that feels a little more pronounced than gathered fabric. You wonder how long he’d been hard for, whether it was when you pinned him to the wall, got him on his knees, or undressed in front of him that did it. You smile and push him back onto the bed, your hips roll into his and you can just about feel the shape of him beneath the thick fabric, your fingers still fussing over the lines of his chestplate, “Is that for me, Din?” “Yes, mommy.” Your hand slips in between your thighs, “You see what you do to me when you’re a good boy?” you push your fingers between your folds and get them slick with your arousal, they come out glistening, practically dripping, and you bring them to his lips and without having to be asked he drags them into his mouth with his tongue and sucks them clean. Your cunt grasps around the air and you moan softly as the warmth of his tongue circling your fingers makes your clit jealous, and you begin to slide up his body to let him taste the rest of you. Your labia spreads across the chest plate you had been so attentive to not moments ago, there was a groove that hit your clit just right and the combination of the cold and the warm was enough to make you moan in such a way that Din looked at you with eyes that almost had him break character and tell you to be quiet in fear of waking the Child. You push your hips back and slowly ease them forward to see if that feeling was a one off. It wasn’t. The grooves, the angles, you don’t know what it is but they’re hitting all the right nerves in the perfect order. Your knees dig into the mattress and your fingers find home in his hair for leverage, “Oh my god, Din.” you breathe out as the pleasure builds up inside you. You find yourself craving more and the rocking of your hips becomes less uniform the more your need to cum builds. Your hands leave his hair and hook under the chest plate as far as the uniform would allow. You look down at him for the first time and his lips are parted as he pants desperately, his brow is glistening as his body temperature rises and you know he must be so desperate to get out of his armor now, his eyes keep glancing between your face and your outer labia spread over his chest plate and making it slick with your arousal. He whispers one word, just one, and that’s all it takes; “Cum.” Your whole body trembles as the orgasm washes over you and you try and ride it out but the Beskar has made you sensitive and you force yourself to stop, your knees close around Din’s chest and dig in in a failed desperation to clamp your thighs together.

You sat on Din’s chest for a while, as you came down from your high, letting your body readjust to the crushing loss of that amazing feeling it had for just a few seconds. Once you had found your coherency again, you shuffled down Din’s body so your lips were level with his and you kissed him lightly, “Shall we get you out of that armor baby boy?” Din’s nod was all too eager, “Yes. Yes please, mommy.” You smile and climb off him, then pull him to his feet and help him out of his armor. When he got down to his under armor - you let him do that himself - you watched him as he had watched you, fascinated by his body, convinced at this point you had every battle scar and war wound memorized; you would lay in bed and map out constellations with them. He strips until he’s completely naked and you take all of him in before ordering him to go and lay back down, and he does exactly as you tell him. You find some restraints and he’s wordless. You straddle his chest again and take hold of his wrists and bring them up above his head and you begin to tie the ropes around him to bind them together and his eyes bulge slightly and half of the word “No” forms from his lips.

You look down from your task and see the panic stricken look on his face. You know what he’s been through, you know he was one of (if not the most) wanted man in the Galaxy, but you stop briefly and put one hand over his throat with no pressure at all, your thumb follows the line of his jaw, “Hey… Trust me?” He looked in your eyes in the way he always did when he was listening to you, and he nodded. “I promise you can get out,” you tell him, as you continue to wrap his wrists to the headboard of the bed, “I promise you say the word and I’ll stop.” “Thank you, mommy.” Your nose crinkled and you smiled brightly. That one hit differently. “Good boy.” Your hips shuffle back a little and your hand slips between the two of you. You find his thick erection and wrap your fingers around him, “How much of a good boy can you be?” You asked, brushing your nose over his as your fingers stroked him slowly, “Ask me before you cum. Don’t cum until I say so, do you understand?” He fights the urge to bite his lip and it shows, his head nods and he’s practically panting as you give him orders and stroke his erection, “Yes, mommy.” “You are such a good boy.” you guide his length to your dripping cunt, pressing him against your labia and dragging your hips back to glaze him in your arousal, you do it again to the tip and then angle the both of you so that the next time you draw your hips back down on him, you’re taking him inside of you. You both let out breathy moans as you do, you feel him stretch you out and your muscles clench and relax around him as if they’re welcoming him inside. You sit upright on him so you can take him to the root and now he’s the one moaning a little louder than a sleeping child can warrant. You press your fingers to his lips and shush him gently and he whimpers against your fingertips. When you’re sure he’s going to be quiet, you take your hand away and you finally pull your tank top off over your head. Tossing it aside without a thought to where it landed, your chest rises and falls as your hips rock rhythmically, that sweet pleasure building once more, the feeling of Din filling you up completely making your whole body tingle like static electricity. His fingers stretch and then close into fists, and your hand clutches at your breast in place of his because you know he wants to touch you. Din knows your body and you know Din, you had taken time to learn from each other, study, teach, and now you couldn’t imagine being intimate with anyone else but Din Djarin. You moan his name as your clit throbs and your hips buck ever more desperately, your fingers play with your nipple, the air is heavy with sex and the low hum of the ship’s power supply and your bodies as they collide like stars. You lost all sense of time riding on him the way you were, you felt empowered, loved, wanted, and when you looked down at Din and he had that tangled expression on his face like he doesn’t know where to put himself, and you know he isn’t far off. Your free hand slips between your legs to rub your clit and you bite your lip to stop yourself from crying out his name too loudly, once again your knees are digging into his sides and his fingers are gripping onto the bars of the headboard to fight his urge to wriggle free of the restraints you’ve put him in and touch you. His head pushes back into the pillow as your muscles flutter around him. “Please–” he begins. “I’m gonna c–” you warn him, you can’t get the words out. His eyes snap open and he looks at you with a pleading expression and pants, his heels digging into the mattress, “Please!”

“No.” You bark the word at him, the tip of his cock hitting that sweet spot inside you in this new position and giving you a new layer of pleasure. You try not to scream as the feeling seems to just keep going. Beneath you, Din was close to tears, he was writhing and his cock aching painfully as it leaked inside you, “Please,” he begged again, “Please, mommy. Please can I cum?” You look down at him with exhausted eyes, sitting up again and taking all of him with a shudder, “Cum for me, baby boy.” It was almost instant, he brought his arms over his face and bit his own arm to stifle his moans. You closed your eyes briefly as you felt him twitch beneath you and spill out inside and don’t even notice the look of surprised desperation on his face. Your fingers have lost all rhythm on your clit, they rub rapidly as you bounce on Din’s cock, your cunt dripping all over him and you reach your peak, your second orgasm is so much more intense, it buckles you forward and the hand you once had on your breast presses into Din’s chest for support, despite your sensitivity you cannot stop your hips from fucking into you, filling you up completely with his orgasm. His hips spasmed as he emptied, and you knew he was spent when his whole body fell limp into the mattress. You leaned forward and nuzzled your way between his arms to catch a kiss from his lips, “Good boy.” Din let out another soft moan against your lips at the praise. You lay in silence in that position for a few moments, recovering from the intensity of it all until you had enough energy to lift yourself off of him and untie his restraints. Din is always clingy after sex and you are more than happy to oblige. The second he’s free, he tucks himself against you, resting his head against your breast. “Hello, pretty boy.” you smiled fondly as your arms wrapped around him, you pressed a kiss into his hair and with one finger you made maps of stars across his back. “You were such a good boy.” He trembled in response and you held him tighter because of it. You wished you could see inside his mind when he was this quiet, you wished you could see the thoughts he didn’t want to share. You pressed another kiss into his hair and let that one linger. He hummed and nuzzled closer to you, curling tighter into a ball, holding you a little firmer. “Are you okay, Din?” you dared to ask the question. He didn’t speak, he just nodded. “Did you get hurt?” He shook his head silently. “Are you my good boy?” A smile slowly crept over his mouth and he looked up at you to nod. It was nice to see him smile, you could hear it behind the helmet but when he had the helmet off and he treated you to a smile it rivaled the suns of Tatooine. You leaned in to kiss the bridge of his nose, and then his forehead affectionately. It was silly really, how much you loved this man. To him, it was silly how much he trusted you. But he did. With his life and with his heart.

#( din djarin: babydin )#din djarin x reader #din djarin x female reader #din djarin smut #din djarin x you #din djarin x f! reader #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin one shot #din djarin #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x you

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padawansuggest · 1 year

Text

Consider

Obi-Wan 7yo, wakes up from naptime in the creche after a Very Important Vision

Immediately skips bail to go out into the temple proper, following whispers of the force (more like cackling lmao) till he gets to a training salle

Training salle is occupied by 15-18yo padawans in the middle of practice, one of which being Kelleran Beq, The Sabered Hand, who is a cheerful teen who wants to be a creche master after he’s knighted

Of course an unaccompanied initiate in the salles is always a cause for concern, so Kelleran comes over to coax the boy into telling him why he’s wandered off

Obi: I’m going with you next month when you go to the production studios for your first filming of the Jedi Temple Challenge

Is questioned on if his creche master just told him that??

Nah he saw it in a dream

Cool cool cool Kelleran LOVES the possessed ones, they’re so cute

Asks kiddo why he thinks he’s going with

Cause Obi-Wan needs an escort to audition for the next season of Sesame System, a show that teaches children and reduces the galaxy’s gap of learning between the poor and the rich, so he can teach the galaxy about what it’s like to be a Jedi!

Okay okay that’s chill lil buddy, Kelleran will be in the production studio anyways cause they’re in the same place

Turns out the REAL Jedi Temple Challenge was the 10 under 10s Kelleran got to help wrangle along the way

Not fully sure where this is going other than Jango Fett (only 3 years older here and not 6) ending up on the same season of Sesame System only for him and Jaster (who’s also got the exact same goals of endearing the public to Mandalorians and is using the show to help point out the Mandalorian kids shows the galaxy can show their kids too, while Obi is pointing at Jedi Temple Challenge) to immediately decide that’s a prime little buddy and now they wanna keep him

The temple settles on a middle ground of letting them babysit Obi sometimes by sticking him in Mando production studios

Kelleran is very worried about baby getting kidnapped by the prince of Mandalore but accepts that Obi also really likes the prince they’re vode now

I. Fucking. Love. Childrens early educational shows and stuff like that. And I want to write an entire series about the shows the Jedi and Mandos could put out to endear themselves to the galaxy and it’s basically propaganda but not bad because the Sith could never get a foothold because Jedi are just sweet little guys with god powers what’s not to love lol

And then the ideas combined in my head when this last Mando episode reminded me of Jedi Temple Challenge (I never actually watched it but I did overall hear about it when it aired) and I decided Kelleran needs to make my dumb ideas a reality.

Obi’s master is a Jedi who’s been doing acting their whole life too but it can’t be Mace because Mace is a theater kid and not a kids show kid he needs a less theatric and more educational master 😔

Ani ends up being on a couple seasons of Sesame System (I specifically chose this as a parody idea because I have BEYOND respect for Sesame Street and I truly believe in the power of kindness and friendship the show likes to give us) when Obi-Wan first finds him and Ani is really nervous at first but they let him rant about sand on the show so they’re chill now

Qui-Gon is not Obi’s master but he DID get wrangled into taking Kelleran and the kids to the studio (it’s in fairly neutral area on a station, but around a planet for outdoor scenes because it’s just easier for legal reasons) and that led to them missing the Telos mission and Xanatos got therapy instead and Qui-Gon isn’t an asshole cause he’s still got his kids

Shmi works on the production station

More kids shows in fantasy and sci-fi settings plz.

#star wars #obi wan kenobi #kelleran beq #jedi temple challenge #childrens shows #sesame system #jango fett #jaster mereel #propaganda #baby wan

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imnotselfryed · 1 year

Text

Another child? [d. djarin]

word count: 1.1k (is this even a drabble??)

content/warnings: daughter & father relationship after a bit, mini Ahsoka mention (i had to), din being softer than usual bc grogu softened him up 😭, a sprinkle of angst. Italics means flashback, gif not mines, not proofread :)

☆♫☆♫

“I can bring you in warm, or I can bring you in cold.” The Mandalorian said to his daily bounty. He’s a busy man and he needed those credits now that he has a small someone to take care of. This bounty though seemed…a bit younger than usual. “Seems fun” You said with all the calm in the world.

“You’ve got 10 seconds before I end this conversation.”

“You could try but I want to get this over with.”

Mando sighed as he gripped your arm harshly. “Let’s go kid. I’m not here to play games.” “Kid? I’ll have you know I’m a grown adult thank you very much,” You said with the best “adult” voice you’ve had. You’ve been on the run after your entire world fell apart. You learned to adapt to your surroundings and environment. It’s a cruel world, galaxy even, so you’ve learned to not be the child you actually are. Mando sighed again as he threw her in the ship. “Well, wow. This is a humble abode.”

“It’s not that impressive. It still works perfectly even though it's probably thousands of years old. Just sit down and be quiet, kid. I’m actually being generous.”

“That's probably the coolest thing you’ve said this entire time.”

Mando stayed silent as he punched in the locations. He had a sad and weird feeling that you were not the adult you say you are. He didn’t exactly want to bring you in, for someone else to potentially hurt you. The mandalorian spoke up, “Well, you don’t see many..smart..bounties, like you, kid. Most end up dying from stress.”

“D’aww you called me smart! I’m so honored” You said sarcastically. It's one of the only ways you have survived all these years, or at least how you survived for the little years you lived. “You must really like sarcasm huh?” “Oh I love sarcasm.”

The Mandalorian continued, “Now tell me…why were you taken in as a bounty? You don’t seem too much of a criminal.”

“Well….Since I was so depressed about…something personal that happened when I was younger, I kind of had a “villain arc” you could say but..I’ve changed. Still sad about it though.” You answered sadly while reminiscing about your past. It all felt like yesterday. “Someone..killed my mother. The only piece of family I’ve had.”

It was a normal day, you were around 8 when it happened. You and your mother were collecting your daily food at the market because everyone was fleeing for their lives. The empire was about to harm everyone and everything that comes in their way, and your planet blocked their view. Your mother on the other hand though, was as calm as you grew up to be. After that, both of you rush outside to see the sky reddened. Your mother crouched down to match the height of you.

“Dear, I love you. You know that right?” She smiled sadly. “I know, Mama.” You say somber, knowing what was about to come next. A bomb, not too far from you and your mother blew up on the ground. Everyone was panicking, trying to evacuate but you really didn’t care. All you cared about was your mother. “Baby, please. Promise me you’ll take care of yourself, find someone that’ll protect you, please be safe,” she said, tears glistening in her eyes. “I will, Mama, don’t worry. Maybe we can find eachother again!” A tear ran down your small cheek as your mother wiped it away. “I hope so.”

A sympathetic look crossed the Mandalorian’s face. Out of all people he definitely knew what it was like to lose a loved one. “I know how difficult that is. I lost mine when I was just a boy. Are you still struggling with your loss though?” Mando sounded softer than usual, he wasn’t as big and bad as he was when he first met her.

“I am…and I’m still so young. Everything happened so fast. I like to act older than I am because It makes me forget about the past. I am actually just a kid.” “I understand. Life can change on the whim of a moment. But, kid, don’t hide your inner child. The galaxy needs some more happiness in it.”

You nod as you stare at your hands, wishing you were stronger and that you were actually able to save your mother. You clench your hands in worry, and in anger. Mando notices this and felt bad for you. “Is..everything okay? Is there something you want to share with me?” “No….it’s alright. I’m alright,” you say sadly while playing with the small ring on your finger, the one your mother gave you. “Look, I’m sorry for your loss, kid. I know you’re trying to stay safe for your sake but holding in that pain isn’t the right answer.”

“I know it’s just…I’m not sure how to talk about my feelings really. I’ve been keeping it all in my entire life.” Mando had a small idea, (eureka /j), something that would protect this young one, and control her stress. “I know just the person to help you with that. A Jedi who guided me through struggles of my own loss. You should find her someday. She can help you kid, I know it.” “Yea…but I’m not Jedi material..plus I don’t want to be one. I think it’d just give me even more stress. They probably wouldn’t be able to handle my sarcasm either” You chuckled. “You’re stuck with me now anyway, Metal man.”

Mando sighed, “So be it.” You smiled a small grin. “So what can I call you anyway?”

“People call me Mando. It’s something I was sworn to be. I have dedicated my life to serve the clan of Mandalore.” “Woah! So your a Mandalorian? That’s so cool!” You said fairly quickly. “I’m just..alive, I guess. Sometimes I wish I was cool,” you sighed as you stared at your ring. “You are pretty cool, kid. Don’t let your past define who you are, you define that, and what future you will have. What will it be,” Mando said, actually curious.

You stayed silent as you thought to yourself. “Find someone who will protect you,” your mother had once told you. You are only 13 now, and have nowhere else to go anymore. You couldn’t survive on your own. The Mandalorian is the only one who could protect you now. “Could I maybe…stay here?”

Mando looked back at her in shock, why would she want to stay here? He thought but she was only a child, he couldn’t just abandon her. He had the same choice with Grogu and he’s like a son to him now. He patted her head, unsure of what to do. “Sure, kid. I promise I'll protect you. We’ll have other adventures also. How does that sound?”

☆♫☆♫

#mandalorian #din djarin #starwars #star wars drabble #din djarin drabble #child!reader #fluff #angst #fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #din djarin fluff #mandalorian fluff #mandalorian x child!reader #mandalorian imagines #star wars imagines #imagines #blurbs

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avenging-fandoms · 1 year

Note

We need domestic life with Djarin and Grogu (Im still gonna call him Din , IDGAF)

**i deeply enjoyed writing this. i have never loved writing something more than this concept. ugh. maybe i let it go on longer than it had to, but din is my favorite ever.

You put the stew at a low heat and wiped your hands, heading out of the kitchen and outside of the cabin where your husband sat on his chair, his beskar in your room as he could finally enjoy the weather in his clothes.

"Grogu, enough with the frogs" he spoke to his son and you roll your eyes, sitting on Mando's right leg with your arms wrapped around his neck. His hand immediately found your back just above your butt.

"Oh, let him enjoy it, Din. How often does he get to play? Look, he's just spinning it slowly" you smile and push your fingers under his collar, inhaling sharply as you touch his back. Neither of you were used to this yet, but you loved every second.

"Din Grogu!" Mando yells and Grogu lowers his ears with a pout and drops the frog and you gasp, standing up immediately.

"How dare you!" you smile as you run to Grogu, sitting next to him and holding your hands out, and he immediately grabs onto your hands. You held him to your chest, rubbing the back of his furry head with your thumb. "He's so mean, isn't he?" you say in a soft baby voice and hold Grogu up on your knees, his teeth poking through his smile.

He coos and jumps next to you, making curious sounds as he looks into the water. “Would you like to get in, my sweet boy?”

He coos again. You smile and hold him under his armpits, dipping his feet in the cool water and he laughs. Din sat up with his elbows on his knees and fingers intertwined as he watched you two.

"Chilly, isn't it? Oh, the frogs are getting revenge, they're going to get your toes!" you giggle and he squeals as you stand up, Din smiling under his helmet. "Don't even look at that mean guy, I made you some stew" you hum and he purrs, nudging his head into you as you walk past Din.

"Flower, wait" he calls and stands up, looking at Grogu and sighing as his son had an angry look on his face. "I'm sorry I yelled, Din Grogu" Mando bowed and you smile, Grogu cooing and reaching for Din.

"Come on, let's go eat" you say in a whispered tone, leading the two inside and getting 3 bowls ready. Grogu sat in his own seat and slurped up his dinner, the both of you looking away as Din took a sip.

"You don't have to do that" you look back at him and smile, holding his hand.

"I have respected your helmet from the moment I met you, and I will forever honor your creed" you smile and he nods, your forehead bumping his Beskar forehead. “Is it good, sweet boy?”

Grogu dropped the bowl on the table with a stew mustache and you smile as Din chuckles. You finish and so does Din and he takes your bowls to wash them.

"Would you like to go watch the stars come out, my boy?" you ask Grogu and pick him up, Din watching your dress push against your body as you step into the breeze.

You walk a little away from the cabin and Mando stands on the porch. "Not too far, Yn" you roll your eyes and turn around, walking back to the cabin a bit and he nods. You turn and sit on the ground, wrapping Grogu in your shoulder wrap and he leans his head on your chest.

"Do you see them, Din Grogu? They're coming" you smile and hear the dirt and rocks underneath boots behind you. Din puts his legs next to yours, pulling you up into him and you laid back. "Aren't they beautiful, Djarin?"

He looked down, his hand rubbing over your hand that held Grogu. "So beautiful" he spoke softly and you look up at him, his helmet touching your forehead as you shut your eyes.

You pull away and lean your head back against him again as you all watch the stars. Your fingertips softly rub up and down Grogu's back softly as you hum a song you used to sing to the other younglings. Din rubbed your arm as he closed his eyes, remembering his first memories of this song.

You were singing to two younglings that night.

"Grogu's asleep, Flower. Let's take him inside" you smile and close your eyes, hanging your head over his arm. "You fell asleep so fast" he chuckles and wraps his right arm underneath your knees and left arm around your back.

You hold in a shriek but let out a giggle as Din stands. He carries both you and your child back into the cabin, setting you down outside of Grogu's room. You put him softly into his bed, kissing him goodnight and heading for your room.

You laid next to Din on the bed, where he sat up against the wall and ankles cross. You move your head into his lap and his ungloved hand holds your jaw, thumb rubbing over your lips. "How I wish to really kiss you, Flower"

You slap a hand over your eyes and laugh. "You must never show your face to another living life, but if I close my eyes I can't see you. Or, wrap something around my eyes"

"No" you peek through your fingers and he puts his hand over. You close your fingers again and halter your breathing once you hear the hiss of his helmet.

"Djarin.."

"Hm.. my flower" he sighs and ties something around your eyes and you immediately grab his face. His nose traced your jaw and kissed your skin, down your neck ever so slowly. He had been waiting for this day, and he was taking in every second.

Your body begged for more, hips pushing up and desperately grabbing at his clothes. "Kiss me, Din, please"

He smiles and brushes his lips against yours and you impatiently pull his head down. You couldn't stop moving your hands, wanting to rip the blindfold off.

"I will follow you until the stars explode, Flower" he whispers and you grip his hair, smiling before kissing him again. You took in every second before he pulled away and you heard the hiss.

You pout and take off the blindfold, Din's head tilted as he looks at you. "Can't you lift your helmet like you do to eat?"

He did, and it worked.

"Why haven't we thought of that before, Flower?"

"I don't know, but that helmet is going to stay like that forever"

He put it back on. "Not it won't, Flower. Get ready for bed, I'll join you soon" you nod and sit up, bumping your forehead with his helmet before getting off the bed.

You look back at Mando, who nodded his head, and you nodded back. It's every word you needed to say in just one gesture. He couldn't keep his eyes off of you, you were everything he dreamed of and he would hurt anyone if it meant saving you - and his son.

#din djarin #din dijarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin imagine #din djarin imagines #din djarin blurb #din djarin blurbs #din djarin fic #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin fluff #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian imagine #the mandalorian blurb #pedro pascal

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theidiotwhowritesthings · 1 year

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A Fresh Start [11]

Din Djarin x F!Reader

Warnings: sick child, fear and panic, angst/comfort

Word Count: 4,290

Summary: When you made plans for your future they never involved being hired by a Mandalorian to baby-sit his adorable, green gremlin of a child. However, after your life fell apart in the span of one disastrous night, you found it to be the only feasible option you had left. Nevarro was a far cry from Coruscant, but the thriving community turned out to be exactly what you needed. Every day you spend in Nevarro you fall more and more in love with your new life, but when your past rears its ugly head you find that perhaps peace wasn’t meant for everyone.

Ch. #11: YOU DIDN’T

Chapter Summary: Vulnerability leads to sincerity.

“falling for him wasn’t falling at all. it was walking into a house and suddenly knowing you’re home.” -r.i.d.

The sound of coughing woke you up. You sat up quickly to be surrounded by a silent house, and for one brief second you wondered if you had imagined it. Right before you laid back down, another bout of muffled coughing traveled through the walls. You threw the covers off your legs and rushed out of your room. You nearly burst into Mando’s room in your sleepy and panicked stupor, but as if your body remembered where your mind couldn't, you stopped at his closed door. If Grogu was awake and coughing that meant Mando was up and you would bet credits he didn’t have his helmet on. You rapped your knuckles on the wooden door.

“Mando?” You called out. “Is everything okay?”

You heard shuffling on the other side before the door was torn open. Mando stood there and even though he wore his helmet the word disheveled came to mind. He was holding a fussy Grogu to his chest. Mando shook his head. “I gave him the treatment. The⏤The nebulizer thing, but it isn’t helping.”

“How long has this been going on?” You asked. At the sound of your voice, Grogu let out a wail and turned around with open arms. Mando leaned forward and you didn’t hesitate to take the boy into your own arms. Immediately, you cradled him and began to rock him softly while whispering soft reassurances.

“The last half hour.” Mando sighed. He lifted his hands to his helmet⏤ as if he were trying to smooth out his hair but forgot he was wearing the beskar. “I didn’t want to bother you, but I…”

The tone in his voice told you that if you hadn't gotten here when you did he would’ve rushed into your room anyways. Not that you minded. You gave Grogu a slight pat on the back as more coughs racked his small body. “You can always wake me, Mando.” He nodded and you frowned at the sound of Grogu’s sad whimpers. “Maybe we should take him to the clinic.”

“I thought about that, but all we have right now is a second hand medical droid and Daelar.” Mando sighed. He tilted his head and reached out to set his own hand on top of yours on Grogu’s back. “Do you think Bacta would help at all? In some way?”

You were still stuck on the first portion of his sentence to even fully hear the ridiculous ‘panicked parent’ question. “Mando,” You spoke slowly, “Are you telling me, other than a droid, the only medical professional we have in this city is dickhead Daelar?”

“The other two quit. Karga hired more, and they were supposed to be here by now, but they got hung up.”

“Oh Maker.” You’d trust a porg to perform a medical service before you did that jackass from the clinic. Mando stepped closer. This was the most tension you had ever seen him wear before. In this moment, he wasn’t a tough, unstoppable Mandalorian. He was just a worried dad. Grogu coughed and you forced yourself to slip out of your current role and step into the mind and training of a person with a medical background. His cough was dry⏤ hoarse and barking. There was no congestion.

“Steam.” You blurted.

“What?”

“We need to fill the bathroom with steam.”

Mando needed no further prompting. He rushed past you and at the movement Grogu began to cry once more and reach out for his father. It seemed he wasn’t going to settle unless you were both in reach. You followed after Mando quickly. He had already turned on the hot water in both the sink and shower.

“Here.” You held him out. Mando took Grogu who settled in his father’s chest. “I’ll be right back.”

As you rushed out of the bathroom, you could hear Grogu fussing for you. It didn’t take long for you to dig through all your room for your medkit. You snuck back into the bathroom, squeezing through the smallest crack you could manage, then closed the door tight. Mando sat in the corner where the shower’s edge met the wall and was rubbing his son’s back.

“Ma cuyir norac. Dala cuyir olar.” Mando murmured.

Grogu coughed more and reached back for you. You knelt on the ground beside the two of them and dug out the thermometer you had packed away. Grogu didn’t feel hot to touch, but you didn’t want to risk it based on a guess. He whined and squirmed as you tried to set the tip into his ear and Mando responded by holding him tighter to keep him from jerking back.

“I know, baby. I know.” You mumbled while begging for the thermometer to finish. The beeping was music to your ears and at the very normal temperature you breathed a sigh of relief. “He has no fever.”

“Good.” Mando shared in your relief.

“Let’s give the steam a chance to open his lungs. No fever means he’s stable, but if he doesn’t get better in the next ten minutes we gotta risk the droid and Daelar.” You said. Worst case scenario, you get to the clinic and you have to step up and act yourself.

Mando nodded in agreement. Hot steam continued to billow in the small room, and you sat as close to Mando as you could so you could soothingly rake your fingers against Grogu’s head and ears while Mando rubbed his back. Gradually, the coughing got slower. You noted that his fussiness was turning to drowsiness, but he continued to try and fight sleep. Faintly, you heard Mando singing in Mando’a⏤ his hoarse voice through the modulator giving the lullaby a soothing touch.

After a few minutes of this, Grogu lifted his head and both you and Mando froze in worry. Rather than crying, the boy turned and reached out one arm to you. He weakly called out for you and you carefully took him from Mando’s arms. You shot Mando a worried look. You didn’t want to cross a boundary. Mando had been scared, an emotion you didn’t know Mandalorians could feel, and if holding his calmed down son in his arms helped then you wanted to give him that. Instead, Mando just nodded once.

Grogu nestled into your chest, laying his head on your shoulder. Mando surprised you by shifting in his seated position to accommodate you. Now you were between his legs, and he wrapped his arms around you to pull you back into his chest. Tired, you sank into him and felt your body relax. Mando kept his arms around you⏤ one resting on your abdomen and the other on rubbing his son’s head like you had been earlier.

“How did you know steam would help?” Mando asked quietly. You could feel the rumble in his chest from his voice.

“Moist air.” You replied back just as softly. “To calm down the inflammation in his airway.”

“You read that in one of your books?” He asked. It occurred to you then that you were doing very little to hide your medical knowledge in this scenario. On a list of priorities, keeping your past secret was way, way below protecting Grogu. The kid came before anything and everything else. Mando lifted the hand resting on your abdomen and instead held it against your own arm letting his fingers trace your skin there. The motion was comforting. “I don’t know what I would do without you, cyar’ika.”

You chuckled. “You were doing just fine before I got here.”

There was a comfortable silence between the two of you with the only sound being the running hot water, and Grogu’s soft snores. Finally, Mando spoke and the sudden rumbling in his chest nearly made you jump. “Can you… Can you stay facing forward? Don’t turn around. Please.”

The almost pleading sound in that last word felt like a stranglehold around your heart. Unable to find words, you just nodded simply. Mando pulled his arm away from you and let his hand trace the entire length of your arm before it disappeared. You felt him moving, heard the hiss of a release, then⏤ just out of the corner of your eyes⏤ you saw his hand set his helmet on the floor. You were breathless. Mando pulled you in closer and placed his arm back where it had been. However, this time you felt his chin rest on your shoulder. He leaned his head against the side of yours. The level of trust he was showing. All it would take was a slight turn of your head⏤ even if you just peered out of the corner of your eyes⏤ you could see him. Too worried about accidentally seeing him, you closed your eyes.

“We were fine, sure.” Mando said, his voice unfiltered through a modulator. You thought you had been addicted to listening to him speak before, but now? Like this? Dank farrik. He continued. “But, it’s because we didn’t know what we were missing.” You wanted to speak, but you didn’t have the words. It seemed Mando hadn’t run out of them quite yet though. “I’m not used to losing control. I don’t panic. That was trained out of me ages ago, but tonight I⏤” Mando breathed out a sigh and you felt the air on your skin. “I didn’t know what to do. Grogu’s never been sick before. But you…”

“It’s⏤” You took in a breath. “It’s normal for a parent to panic when their kid is sick.”

“You didn’t.” Mando replied. The simple words insinuating that you were in the same position as he was. A parent. You tightened your arms around Grogu. Mando chuckled, “The way you just took charge. Cyar’ika…” Mando pulled his head back. Before you could miss his warmth, you felt his lips brush against the skin where your shoulder met your neck. You took in a sharp breath. Mando had facial hair. You could feel it. He pulled Grogu and you closer to his chest. “Ni aalar sha yaim ti gar.”

“You said that before.” You mumbled, vaguely recognizing the words that you didn't even know you knew. “That night. Before I fell asleep in bed. I think you said that.”

“I did.”

“Will you tell me what it means?”

“One day, cyar’ika.”

You drifted off to sleep⏤ safe with both your boys.

Din didn’t realize he had crossed a line until he woke up with his arms wrapped around you in the soft morning light streaming through his bedroom window. Last night was a nightmare. Din had never felt so useless before. Anytime his son was in danger, it was always something physical that he could respond to. Storm troopers, rival bounty hunters, Moff kriffing Gideon. All of it Din could do something⏤ there was an action he could take. Last night though? Grogu was sick, and he had never dealt with that before. The enemy threatening his son was internal, and Din was at a loss. This wasn’t somebody he could use his blaster on, this wasn’t an adversary he could disintegrate or burn, it was an illness he couldn’t touch. Din had felt useless and that was his absolute worst nightmare⏤ to be able to do nothing as his son suffered.

When you came to his door, worry evident in your voice, he had been minutes away from kicking down your door himself. He had tried to handle it on his own, used the medicine given to him by the doctor, but it did nothing but make Grogu fussier.

The way you took action? The way you pushed forward without an ounce of fear or panic drawn on your calm, gorgeous features? The way Grogu instinctively knew, as he did, that you were a figure of safety? Din could have cried. Sitting in the bathroom watching the steam aid his son’s breathing and calm that horrid coughing⏤ he nearly did. Din was so thankful that Grogu had never gotten sick on the Razor Crest. So thankful that you had been here to act.

It was why he hadn’t paused in pulling you into his arms. Holding you tight against his chest, you cradling Grogu protectively to your chest, had been the moment his racing heart had finally begun to calm down. The panic eased off and was replaced by the feeling of safety. Maybe physically he could fist fight his way through a problem and feel confident, but mentally and emotionally Din always felt at a loss. You were a pillar of steadfast reliability. Your presence was a soothing balm to his turbulent mind. Feeling you pressed against him still hadn’t been enough for him. Din didn’t give his words or movements a second thought when he pulled his helmet off last night. There was no waging war or torment plaguing him at the thought of it. It reminded him of that moment on Gideon’s ship when he took his helmet off for Grogu that first time. It had just been the right thing to do⏤ it just made sense.

Din trusted you not to turn and look at him, and he needed that moment. He needed to be able to bury his face into the crook of your neck. Breathe in the smell of your soap unhindered by a wall of beskar. Press his lips to your shoulder. Maker, he had never needed anything more desperately. Din had felt like a man stranded in the desert aching and searching for water and the feel of your skin was an oasis.

You had fallen asleep leaning into him. The sound of Grogu’s light snores mingling with yours had been a melody he could spend forever listening to. With no forethought, no self doubt, Din had shifted to pick you up and carried you both to his bed. His only concern had been to stay close to you and Grogu, so he crawled into bed behind you and buried his face in your shoulder and wrapped his arms around you and his son.

That was how Din woke up. Helmet less and curled around your body.

His first morning thought had been an admiration of how well you seemed to fit with him. His second thought was the return of reality. Din Djarin had crossed a line, and though you didn’t seem opposed to it, that didn’t change the facts. He would not be able to untangle himself from you and pretend like everything was normal. Not after this. Any semblance of self control he had was melted away from the steam of last night.

Din lifted his head just enough to see Grogu was still fast asleep. He had fallen away from your chest, but he now laid on his belly right beside you⏤ one of your arms covering him protectively. Maker, if he could just pause time…

He needed to get up. Based on the morning light, Cara would probably start looking for him soon. Din gave himself one more second of this moment. He pulled you in closer, took a long breath, and then softly pressed a kiss at the exposed space right beneath your ear. You sighed in your sleep, the sound dreamy enough to make him consider quitting his job altogether just so he could live in this moment, and pressed into him for warmth. He reminded himself that this was not how he wanted the conversation of line crossing to start⏤ with you waking up in his arms, with his face exposed, and his morning wood pressed against your ass. Bad idea. Very bad idea. Using every ounce of strength he had, Din pulled his arms away from you and slid out of bed.

Din readjusted himself then went searching for his helmet. It had been left on the bathroom floor. As he slid it on, he was mildly impressed with himself. He hadn’t remembered turning off the faucets, but apparently some part of him from last night had enough mindset to do so. He had to sneak back into his room to find his communicator, but then settled in the kitchen leaning against the island counter. A pot of caf was brewing behind him as he checked his messages. He had a few questioning ones from Mayfeld and Cara, missed calls from Cara as well, and he even noted a missed call from Grogu’s school. All three of you had slept in a lot longer than intended.

The first call he made was to Grogu’s school just to let them know he was sick and wouldn’t be in. They were very understanding and wished him well. Before responding to either of his deputies, he poured himself a now finished cup of caf and lifted his helmet just enough to take a long sip. Before he could make the next call, the sounds of bare feet padding across the floor drifted to him. Din looked to the arch in time to see you step into the kitchen⏤ still in your pajamas and eyes half lidded with the remainders of your sleep.

“Morning.” Din murmured. You echoed the sentiment and rubbed your face while he began to pour another mug of caf for you. You reached his side by the island counter and Din set the mug in front of you. A thanks was mumbled briefly before you took a long sip. Din let his eyes soak in the sight of you and he couldn’t bite back the sigh that left his lips.

You set the mug down and offered him a small smile. “Grogu is still sleeping.” Din nodded. “Poor baby is tuckered out from last night.”

“Thank you again.” Din said.

“You don’t need to thank me for that. You never need to thank me for that.” You rested an elbow on the counter while facing him and slumped against the counter. Din mirrored your posture and the two of you stared at one another in the quiet of the house. Din had worried that in the morning light things would feel awkward⏤ you would seem uncomfortable. It was the opposite though. It was as if the wall between him and you had finally crumbled to dust and now all that remained was a palpable tension. A delicious one.

It was better than the moment right before he caught a difficult quarry. Better than the seconds right before he’d nose dive his ship mid flight to avoid a pursuer. Better than the beeping sound of his ship’s weapons locking onto an enemy. Better than the free fall when he was in the air right before he activated his jetpack. Din faced a lot of thrills in his life, but nothing was better than this moment right here. You and him were rising to a precipice and Maker did Din want to push both of you over the edge.

“Cyar’ika⏤”

“Mando⏤”

You both spoke at the same time only to stop and chuckle. Din shifted so he was a step closer to you. You leaned toward him rather than backing away and his chest swelled with pride. He reached out and let the tips of his fingers trail down your bare arm until they found your hand. You turned your hand just enough to allow him to tangle his grip with yours.

“I think we should talk.” His words came out in a hoarse whisper.

You squeezed his hand with a nod. “I think you’re right.”

Din was torn between being thankful for his helmet and hating it right now. If he didn’t have it on he could just show you how he felt⏤ kiss you and make sure you felt every ounce of passion he felt for you. He wasn’t good at words, he was good at action. With the helmet on, he’d have to rely on voicing what you meant to him. At least the beskar hid his face. At least you couldn’t see how nervous he felt.

“Ever since you’ve settled here,” Din began, he cleared his throat, “I’ve been⏤”

The shrill sound of his communicator blared in the quiet kitchen making both of you jump apart. His hand slipped from yours and there was suddenly too much space between the two of you. Din picked up the communicator, cursed at Mayfeld’s name, and glanced back at you. You sheepishly rubbed the back of your neck, your lips ticked up in a small smile, and then nodded. “You need to get that.”

Your words sounded like you were trying to convince yourself of that as well. Din heaved a sigh and answered the communicator. He snapped. “What?”

“Mando! Finally! Where the kriff are you!?” Mayfeld barked back at him. Din’s annoyance was subdued when he heard the familiar sounds of blaster fire.

“What’s going on?”

“Those damn pirates are back and they brought friends.” Mayfeld replied. “We’re out in the lava plains. Looks like they’ve either set up base or traps but either way⏤” His voice was interrupted by more blaster fire then what sounded like Cara angrily yelling curses, “Mando! We need that shiny beskar covered ass out here, now please.”

“I’m coming. Send your coordinates.” Din hung up. His gaze met yours. “Cyar’ika⏤”

“Go. We’ll be fine here.” You replied. “I was going to take Grogu to the clinic. As much as I hate Daelar⏤”

“No.” Din blurted as his hands grasped your arms. He shook his head, grip loosening. “No, don’t. Don’t leave this house. I’ll get Daelar to make a home visit.”

The thought of you being out in Nevarro with Grogu while the pirates were this close made him ill.

You nodded. “Oh, okay.”

Din forced himself to step away from you so he could get dressed. You stayed in the kitchen. When he entered his bedroom, shutting the door behind him, he saw Grogu blink his large eyes open and yawn. Din pulled his helmet off to greet his son with a reassuring smile while simultaneously changing into his flight suit.

“Work, buir?” Grogu grumbled.

“Work, ad’ika.” He replied. Din paused before pulling on his beskar to ask in Mando’a, “How do you feel?”

Grogu didn’t offer an answer but he buried himself deeper into the blankets with a content babble. Din took that as a good sign. He quickly pulled on his armor and scooped his helmet back up off the bed where he had tossed it. Din knelt down and Grogu sat up enough to allow him to set his forehead against his.

“Be good today.” He said. “Ma is going to take care of you, but I need you to look out for her as well.”

Grogu chirped out a confirmation, still drowsy, and Din took the time to tuck his son comfortably in bed before tugging his helmet on. Before leaving his room, he reached into a drawer to pull out a new blaster. It was small and lightweight in his own hands, but it would fit in yours perfectly. He had it built for you after all. Din ordered it hours after getting back from your first shooting lessons, and it had been completed days ago. He just hadn’t had the opportunity to give it you. Din wanted to take you back out so you could train with this specifically, but he’d have to settle for now.

Din wasn’t going to walk out of this house without knowing you had something in reach to protect yourself and Grogu. As a back up, of course. Din’s plan involved you never having to actually use it.

He hurried out of his room, back to the kitchen, and saw you standing over the stove stirring a pot. Din paused beside you and let his hand settle on your lower back. It looked like you were making some kind of rice porridge for Grogu. At his touch though, you lifted the pot to set it on a cool burner and faced him.

“You’ll be careful, right?” You asked. There was fear in your eyes and Din hated it.

“I will.” He replied. “Take this.” When he pressed the blaster into your hands, your eyes widened. “Keep it by your side today. Grogu knows better than to mess with any of my weapons, but he’s also a little womp rat so…” You let out a soft laugh and his lips ticked up. He needed to go. Din needed to hurry out. Before he could question himself, Din leaned down so he could set his forehead against yours. You took in a sharp breath and he carefully cradled the side of your face. “Do not leave the house today. Please. I’ll have my communicator on if you need anything, don’t hesitate, but⏤” Din sighed. “Please, cyar’ika, I just need to know you and Grogu are safe today.”

You set your empty hand on top of his and Din wished he didn’t have to feel your touch through the leather of his glove. “I promise we’ll stay here. Just come back home in one piece, Mando.”

“Din.” He whispered.

You pulled back just an inch, still hovering close enough that your breath could fog up his t-visor, “Wh⏤What?”

“My name.” He said. “It’s Din Djarin.”

“Din.” The way his name fell from your lips in that sweet voice nearly sent him to his knees. “Be safe, Din.”

He couldn’t afford to stay another minute. It would only make it that much harder to go. Din hurried out of his home and activated his jetpack the moment he was outside. The sooner this was dealt with the sooner he’d be back to you and Grogu.

mando'a translations

Cyar’ika: Darling /// Ad’ika: son /// Buir: Father

Ma cuyir norac. Dala cuyir olar: Ma is back. She's here.

#the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #protective din djarin #good dad din djarin #mando #mando x reader #mando x you #Female reader #reader insert #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian x you #mandalorian and grogu #angst/comfort #slow burn

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thefrogdalorian · 3 months

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Half of me yearns for the time when Mando felt so separate to the rest of Star Wars, but then the other half of me LOVES seeing Din's story become part of something bigger. The fact that little boy from Aq Vetina has a major role to play in key events in the galaxy like reclaiming Mandalore when everyone else gave up is quite incredible, actually.

I can't lie though, I do miss how separate season one felt to everything... mysterious man who barely speaks making his way through the galaxy with his strange frog baby. So many new characters and planets introduced.... it was amazing to see after the sequels. Mando s1 really united the fandom.

While I don't think it could have stayed that way forever and regardless of where the story goes, I guess i'm just glad we have the first season to go back to with all of those nostalgic feelings. But the "problem" of the story being linked to existing characters started in season 2, not season 3 like a lot of people pretend. At least season 3 was actually linked to Mandalorians, which is personally what I want in a show called THE Mandalorian lmao. It still has its flaws of course, but I hope at the end, when Din's story is complete, some of the choices will make more sense.

#the mandalorian #din djarin #star wars #sorry people im a committed luke cameo HATER #love luke that scene just irritates me and i know if anyone says that's “peak mando/sw” we probably won't agree on much #i do get why people dislike s3 to an extent but man some of the hate feels so forced like WE SAW SO MANY MANDOS!!! that was amazing #i want more of that not my show being used to launch ahsoka/boba/that cancelled rangers show thanks #anyway i hope s4 does happen because the show that launched everything deserves to be prioritised not an afterthought thanks #spud rants

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kaysfanficcorner · 1 year

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Out of This World Chapter 2: Getting to Know You

Author’s Note: Hey all! Welcome to chapter two. Thank you to everyone who read chapter one! I’ve been excited to share this, so I hope your enjoy!

Summary: The Mandalorian and his new shipmate make their way to a few planets as he hunts for quarries. In the meantime, they start to slowly get to know more about each other and conflicting feelings arise.

Pairing: Din Djarin X Female Earthling Reader

Warnings: Light sexual tension. Light reference to masterbation. Cursing. This story is eventually going to have NSFW scenes so please no one under 18 interact. If you are under age, you are prohibited from this work of fiction.

AO3

*****

It takes a few weeks for things to fall into a comfortable routine around the Razor Crest, and for you to get your “space legs” as you like to call it. Being a nanny to the child quickly becomes a second nature to you. You’ve started to learn his moods, his habits, what makes him giggle or cry. You spend your days catering to the baby’s every whim, and you’re absolutely in heaven. He’s a curious little boy and if you’re not watching him all the time he tends to get himself into mischief, yet even so you can’t help but feel he’s one of the very best children you’ve ever been hired to watch. Perhaps you’re biased because of how stinking cute he really is, but he’s genuinely just a sweet little being in need of the same love and attention that any child of any species needs in order to grow up happily.

The Mandalorian turns out to have more of a personality under that helmet of his than you’d originally expected him to, and he’s more of a hands on father than you’re used to dealing with. Most of the kids you’ve watched in the past came from slightly toxic homes, much like the one you grew up in, and you’ve usually been the one responsible for fulfilling those absent parental needs where you were able.

The Mandalorian, however, spends every moment that he’s not flying the ship, using the fresher, hunting, or sleeping, to try and pay any attention he can to the kid. He may not know what he’s doing sometimes, but it’s undeniable that Mando is a really good foster dad. He truly has the natural instincts of a father.

So far, there’s been a single stop on one planet for Mando to hunt the first quarry on his list. The hunt only takes three days, but the planet is deemed entirely too dangerous for you and the kid to be left without supervision, so the two of you stay behind with Jupiter on the tightly locked up Razor Crest.

From your view of it up in the cockpit, you can see that the sky of this planet is a swirling mixture of navy blue and bright purple, even during the day. At night there are not one, but four moons. One of which is so close to the planet itself, that a majority of the lower half of the sky is taken up by its cratered, blue-green surface. It’s truly a sight to behold for your Earthling mind. Aside from that, the forest of dark blue, almost black piney looking trees is relatively quiet aside from the odd looking bird or animal that passes by.

You only go slightly stir crazy in that seventy-two hours. You and the kid try your best to patiently wait for the bounty hunter to return, but the little guy gets somewhat restless without the presence of his dad and you miss having another adult to talk to. Eventually you do manage to learn that the kid likes your taste in music, and that he’s completely enthralled by it when you do yoga. He even learns to mimic a few of the easier poses, which is probably one of the cutest things you’ve ever seen.

His big eyes closed as he sticks his arms out in warrior pose, is a sight to behold.

“Mental note,” you say to yourself out loud as you fiddle around with painting your nails at the beginning of the third day, “get Mando to bring us some arts and crafts supplies. Maybe the kid would like making things.”

In the background, a soft techno song is playing and the kid is bobbing his little head to the beat while the cat tries to knock a few things over.

Once the Mandalorian does return a few hours later, slightly bloodied but no worse for wear, you finally get to learn what carbonite is. He shows you how he freezes the bounty alive in a block of the gross looking stuff. The poor bith, a bug-like creature to say the least, is stuck with a look of terror in its gigantic eyes. This process can apparently cause hibernation sickness which results in weakness, dehydration, dizziness, memory loss, and temporary blindness.

“That’s horrifying,” you emphasize with a hand on your chest. The kid, who is cradled in your other arm, apparently disagrees and practically claps his hands at the foggy sight of the freezing process.

“Beats having to make conversation with a criminal,” Mando responds with a small shrug, “the ones I bring in warm usually never shut up.”

Mando shows you that he brought back a fair amount of fresh food from the local market just as you’d requested. Several exotic fruits and vegetables you’ve never seen before but are excited to try. One fruit in particular seems the most enticing, mostly because Mando tells you it’s one of his personal favorites. He also informs you that he asked around about any sort of black hole phenomenon, but was mostly met with incredulity from the locals.

After getting cleaned up and changing his clothes, the Mandalorian allows you a few hours on the outside of the ship so you and the kid can get some fresh air while charging the iPad. The bounty hunter sits with his back against a tree trunk as he keeps a close eye on your attempt to get the kid to exert some of his energy, but after awhile you’re willing to bet that Mando falls asleep for about forty minutes.

When he eventually wakes up, he stands and makes his way over to where you’re laying in the grass with the kid sleeping on your stomach.

“Hey,” you say with a smile up at him. The sunlight bounces off of his helmet and blinds you for a moment before his head moves to block the sun from your eyes entirely.

“Hi,” he says back, holding a hand out to you, “Let him rest for a little while and let me show you something.”

Careful not to wake him, you gently move the baby off of you and take the offered hand. He pulls you up with ease, as if you weigh the same as the kid, and that’s the first time you realize how strong he really is.

Then he hands you a blaster. You look down at it with skepticism, before looking back up to the man with curious eyes.

He answers your unspoken question, “I’d like to teach you how to use this. For now, I want to see how well you can shoot. We’re going to start off easy and work our way up from there. When we have some down time later, I’d also like to teach you how to properly clean it and care for it. These weapons are useful, but if you don’t know your way around it then you’re just endangering yourself and others. Do you understand?”

You nod, wanting to take this new level of trust that he’s extending to you very seriously. “I understand. Thank you for trusting me.”

He nods in return, “Try not to make me regret it. Hold the blaster how you think you should and show me your stance.”

You’ve never shot a firearm before, so after pulling from your memories of what you’ve seen in action movies, you spread your legs slightly and hold it out in front of you with both hands. Your right hand is holding the blaster itself, with your finger on the trigger, and your left hand is steadying your arm.

The Mandalorian makes a clicking sound with his tongue, “Not terrible, honestly. But you need to fix your footing. Like this.”

He shows you with his own feet and you mimic him. When he’s pleased with how you look, he comes to move behind you. His body is so close to yours that it’s distracting, but you try to focus as he keeps going. Your insides are squirming feeling him this near to you.

“You never want your finger on the trigger unless you’re about to take the shot. Keep it elongated down the side, so you can slip the finger in an pull the trigger in a moments notice.” As he says this and you comply, his arms circle around you and he adjusts your elbows slightly.

Your hands begin to sweat horribly.

“Much better,” he says, taking a few steps back to observe you. You miss the physical presence of him as soon as it’s gone.

“So not a lost cause?” You ask, trying your best to hold the pose he left you in.

“Not a lost cause,” he agrees, “Why don’t you try firing at that tree?” He points to one that’s a few yards away.

You slip your finger into the trigger and pull. There’s a soft click but nothing happens. “Did I mess this up already?” You ask.

“No, I wanted to see if you would remember that the safety is on.” He replies, there’s a hint of a smirk in his voice and you narrow your eyes at him.

“That was a cheap trick,” you say with a huff. It feels slightly like he’s picking on you and your shoulders slump a little.

“I didn’t meant anything by it, I just wanted to test you. There’s no harm in having a gap in your knowledge. All that matters is the willingness to expand it.” He shows you how to turn the safety off, and steps back again. “Sorry, I wont do that again.”

“I forgive you,” you reply with a little more confidence in your voice and you take the shot. A bright blast of red goes flying into the thick woods and you watch as it disappears into the tree line.

“Try again, you can go until you make the shot. Don’t hold your breath and keep both eyes open.” He moves to lean against the tree a few yards away from you so he can keep an eye on both you and the sleeping kid.

About fifteen minutes later, you hit the tree trunk dead on. A cheer erupts from you and you do a little victory dance. You’re sure you can hear a low chuckle coming from within the beskar of Mando’s helmet, and he claps his hands in applause.

“Congratulations,” he says, “You’ll be taking down Storm Troopers in no time.”

You turn the safety back on and look at him with a raised eyebrow, “What’s a Storm Trooper?”

*****

It’s probably another few weeks of space travel, with the occasional fuel stop at a star port and a trip to an aquatic planet for another quarry, before you’re finally ready to admit to yourself just how attracted to the Mandalorian you really are. There’s no use in denying it. You felt the initial spark of attraction for him when you’d met on Nevarro, and that fire has only burned brighter every day that you’ve lived on his ship and nannied his child. Will you act on this attraction? That’s an entirely different matter all together. It’s one thing to harbor a crush, its another to act drastically just because you’re a horny mess around him and it only seems to be getting worse.

You’re attracted to a man who you cannot, and will very likely never, look into the eyes of. A man you can’t actually see, nor do you know his age or true name. What a trip.

At first you try to chalk it up to cabin fever, to being cooped up inside with only him, the baby, and the cat. Then he’ll go and do something like clean his blaster in front of you or polish the jet pack, and the sight of the cosmic gunslinger sends thrills of need through your deprived core.

The things that his lovely baritone voice can do to your body should be considered sacrilegious in every imaginable sense of the word. He’ll suddenly break a comfortable silence between you to ask you if the kid’s taken a nap yet that day or a random question about Earth, and its enough to make your mouth begin water before you’re able to answer. Enough to make you have to bite down on your left knuckles in order to prevent yourself from making obscene noises as you touch yourself later on that night in the fresher, imagining all of the dirty, depraved things you’d like to hear that voice of his whisper in your ear.

Your natural scent has pretty much taken over the cot at this point, but that first glorious week of sleeping on the ship had been insatiable. The smell of him had been on every inch of the thing. As far as you’re concerned, the sweaty, natural musk of the Mandalorian could be bottled up and sold by Gucci himself and no one would ever question it. It’s a heavenly aroma to say the least.

His persona is strong and masculine on the surface, which is initially what attracts you to him in the first place. There is another part of him though, one you’re slowly getting to see more and more of during your time together. It’s this slightly more relaxed side that only comes out when its just your little group whirling through hyperspace, that’s what is truly starting to do you in.

The only way you can really describe it, is that he’s gotten used to you being around enough that he’s begun to let his guard down a little in front of you. Not by much, but enough for you to notice.

His shoulders will flex beneath the armor as he reaches his arms up over his head to stretch mindlessly, sometimes a yawn escaping through the modulator. He’ll curse more in front of you if the kid’s not around. Words you understand, and some you don’t at all. The tone of a curse being unmistakable behind the odd phrases regardless. You’ll catch him sitting up in the cockpit every now and then, allowing Jupiter to sleep in his lap while he flies the ship. He seems to like her just as much as she likes him, or at the very least he doesn’t push her down when she jumps up to rub her head lovingly into his chest or knead at his armor plated thighs.

When he’d laughed at your joke back on Nevarro? That had only been the beginning. Mando doesn’t crack many jokes of his own, but this doesn’t stop him from chuckling at most of yours. His sense of humor is hidden under that helmet somewhere, and nothing makes you feel more accomplished than getting a miniature laugh out of him. It’s never a robust or boisterous sound, but low and hearty.

The kid will suddenly reach for Mando to hold him while in your arms and you’ll pass him over, the openly tender moments shared between unlikely foster father and son pulling effortlessly at your heartstrings. You’ve become endeared to this duo whether you’ve asked to be or not, and when Mando is in the room its all you can do not to act like a smiling, giddy mess.

The attraction you feel towards him is undeniable and strong, even without the luxury of being able to see his face. He could be the phantom of the opera inside that thing for all you know, but still the infatuation persists.

But above all else, you’re really starting to consider Mando to be your friend. That might be the most attractive thing about him.

Trying to keep these desires and feelings shoved deep down is becoming the biggest struggle of all, though. The urge to reach out and brush a hand over his forearm will overpower you, and you’ll catch yourself a moment away from your fingers stretching out towards him before clenching your fist up tightly at your side. There are two sides of your personality endlessly battling your will to ignore him in every instance.

You’ve always been a hopeless romantic, never truly content to wade through life by yourself. In the past, on Earth, this never worked in your favor with the opposite sex. Every chance at romance a failed travesty. You constantly long for the comfort of another person’s body pressed tightly against yours. You yearn to have the affection and attention showered upon you which you rarely received as a child, but with the intention to return that affection tenfold. You wish to have a friend by your side to share your life with. You want a true partner, someone to take care of you as you take care of him. As a natural caregiver from a broken home, you’ve always longed to have a family you can nurture and love freely as your own. A family entirely of your making, comprised of people you trust and respect.

Apparently for most guys this had been “too much”, leaving you to float in and out of uncomfortable situations with foolish men not worth half of your time. Not even sexually.

Embarrassingly, you’ve never slept with anyone who had the ability to make you reach an orgasm. You used to blame yourself, thinking that your self-consciousness was causing your body to freeze up in the presence of another. But as the years went on and your confidence in the bedroom grew, you’ve still never found a partner to achieve this triumph over your body. Because of this, you’ve also never been able to create a deep enough sexual connection with another person for any relationships to even stand a chance. Sex is one of your favorite things in the world, but you’ve never actually been able to enjoy it in the way you need to most.

You can’t help but think that Mando knows his way around a woman’s body, and your secret, almost nightly fantasies of him finally fixing this long standing problem for you are absolutely maddening.

And so the two sides of you wage war with one another daily. Some days you just want the Mandalorian to throw you up against the ship’s wall and fuck you until you don’t know your own name, and others you find yourself thinking that you want two of you to take the kid for a nice scenic hike should you stop on a good planet for it. You walk a very fine line between debaucherous wretch and hopeless romantic.

The fact remains, however, that you are still completely out of place in this galaxy. Your eventual departure and the eventual departure of the kid are the two main reasons that you usually force this silly, frivolous way of thinking aside. Both of you are temporary passengers on Mando’s ship, and you know that you’re already in far too deep with how attached you are to the kid. The day he leaves the Razor Crest, should that happen during your time on it, will very likely rip your heart completely in half. And you know damn well you will be just as broken-hearted if you are the one to leave first. Odds are things are bound to go back to normal for everyone on board the ship at some point, and getting attached to the Mandalorian on top of it is only asking for more trouble than you think you’re prepared to handle.

This, on top of the fact that he’s very clearly a private person to begin with, is why you stop yourself every single time you feel the urge to ask him something about himself. No matter how badly your curiosity wants to take over, you shove it deep down inside just like the rest of your infatuation with him. Besides, its not like he’d be able to answer questions like, “Hey Mando, what’s your favorite pizza topping?” The bounty hunter wouldn’t know what a pizza was if you made one for him yourself in the poor excuse of a galley.

Fuck. Now you could kill for a pizza.

*****

Similarly, Din is harboring struggles of his own behind that beskar helmet of his. Particularly in regards to the fact that you don’t ask him anything about himself. Ever. You are quite literally the most curious person Din has ever met, asking him various questions almost daily.

“How does the hyperdrive actually work?”

“Hey Mando, is the next quarry a human or some other kind of species?”

“What did this one do to end up with on a bounty on him?”

“Mando, what planet in this galaxy has the most moons? Mine only had one. It’s so cool to see multiple moons in the night sky like on that first planet. I’d love to see like six all at once.”

“What language do they speak here?”

Din is always willing to answer you, never once denying you the information you seek about the galaxy you now reside in. He never talks down to you or tries to make you feel foolish for asking, but instead tries to explain what he can to the best of his ability. The galaxy can be dangerous, life in space can be dangerous, and the more you know about your surroundings, the less Din needs to worry about you getting yourself into trouble.

One would think that this eventually gets old for Din Djarin, but it’s quite the contrary. It should annoy him. Really, it should. Yet it doesn’t. Your questions don’t pester him in the slightest. He enjoys answering you, getting to share his knowledge of the universe with you. It’s never a constant thing, and you never bombard him with too much of it all at once. Your queries are never anything other than thoughtful, drawing from a place of respect.

It usually only happens when you come across something you genuinely don’t understand, when you’ll look up at Din with those big, bright eyes filled with mystified splendor. He’s powerless not to answer you when you look at him like that. Din can’t help but find you beautiful, your sense of childlike wonder adding an extra layer of softness to your already impossibly exquisite features. It’s that same childlike wonder that also allows Din to see things that he’s always taken for granted in a new light.

He is not without questions of his own, however. Whenever you say, do, or wear something from your home world, Din cannot help but ask you about it. This planet, this Earth, you’re from seems to be just about the strangest place in the universe, and Din has seen some strange things in his heyday. The cultural differences alone are beyond him, let alone the primitive technology he’s seen you tote around the ship connected by a short wire to little white buds in your ears which you call “headphones”. He’s still getting used to the way you speak, the odd phrases you constantly spout off, but you’re usually able to get your point across to him. Din’s own growing curiosity about you is beginning to be somewhat uncontrollable.

Din is starting to consider you a friend worth getting to know.

Which is why it bothers him once he starts to realize that the one thing you’ve never asked him a single question about is himself. He’s not stupid, it doesn’t take long for him to figure it out. He’s even sure he’s caught you stop yourself from saying something to him on more than one occasion, and its nagged at him for several days after.

He knows how thankful he should be that you’ve never once pried into his personal life, but for whatever reason Din wants you to pry. Even though Din is ever the sensible and logical man, and he knows that it shouldn’t effect him in the slightest, it really, truly bothers him. Drives him slightly crazy, even. You’ve lived on the ship for a full month now, and still you ask about every kriffing thing in the galaxy besides him.

Din lets this whole thing go for another few weeks, as long as he possibly can, until he finally decides to stop driving himself mad and just put an end to it once and for all.

But in the meantime, his attraction to you grows.

The Way has no restrictions on sensuality despite the popular opinion of most beings. It’s simply seen by his people as a means to an end. A necessary aspect of life that, if not properly addressed, causes distraction and sloppiness. Both things that a warrior cannot afford, for his or her very life depends on the ability to focus in the face of battle.

Though the culture heavily consists of foundlings and there is very little need to procreate, most adult Mandalorians do eventually take another Mandalorian as a mate. If not simply as a way to deal with these natural urges effectively and for companionship. Din did have an adolescent fixation with one of the older girls in The Tribe, early on in his days with the Mandalorians, but even that had been fleeting. There is no denying that Mandalorian women are all beautiful in their own right. Strong, independent women whom Din would trust in battle without a second thought.

Hypocritically and embarrassingly, however, Din has never been able to bring himself to be attracted to another Mandalorian enough to see past the beskar helmet. This fact has always caused a deep sense of guilt within him, and a small amount of shame. It should be considered to be an honor to have a woman of such caliber at his side, but that’s not what Din most craves late at night when he’s taking care of himself in private.

No, Din wants to see gorgeous, thick hair that his fingers can get tangled in. He wants to see beautiful, lust filled eyes looking up at him with need. Those same eyes slipping closed as breathtaking facial features contort in moments of pure ecstasy brought on by his touch and his alone. Din doesn’t want the rough hands of a warrior on his bare skin, but the gentle and comforting caress of silky, delicate fingers. Soft lips grazing his neck.

Din also secretly craves to be completely nurtured by someone, to be taken care of in a way that he never has before.

Mandalorian women cannot provide these things for Din, and he cannot expect someone to be only ever be attracted to his helmet if he can’t find one attractive on someone else. He can’t even provide a potential partner with a kiss, one the simplest pleasures in the galaxy. Din’s lips have not touched another person’s flesh since he swore the oath and placed the beskar upon his young head. He’s not even sure he remembers how to do it. This is one of the many things that has always gotten in the way when it comes to women, so in recent years he’s resolved to not even bother anymore. Din Djarin is prepared to go it alone until the bitter end.

When your eyes meet his though? Even with a barrier of beskar between the two of you, the way you look up at him with such admiration in your eyes throws him for a loop nearly every time. That old way of thinking begins to melt away. Perhaps Din doesn’t want to go it alone, not all the time at least.

But... you’re inevitably going to leave. If you can find a way back to your bizarre home planet, you’re going to go and Din will likely never see you again. Just like the kid will leave him one day too. So he resolves to shove his growing desire for you so far down that he cannot feel it anymore. He’s convinced himself that he can be numb to it just like all the other times he’s had to be, until he eventually forgets about it all together and moves on with his miserable life.

*****

It’s another normal, uneventful evening in space. You’re sitting on an overturned crate, bouncing the kid up and down on one knee while Din is preparing something to eat for the three of you. This has been the unspoken evening ritual for the better part of your time on the ship, since the evening when you happened to walk in on Din attempting to keep the kid and the cat from playing too roughly with one another on top of trying to make food. He’d been obviously flustered and overwhelmed by the situation, but wouldn’t ask you for help. So you had just scooped the kid up, stroked the cat on the head, and silently pulled up a crate. He’s never once requested it, but you’ve done it every single night since.

Both of you secretly love this routine. In fact, if he is to be completely honest with himself, its Din’s favorite part of the day. Cooking a hot meal for the group a is such a simple thing, but more and more it begins to feel so... domestic. More domestic than anything Din has experienced since being a child, well before he became a foundling and subsequently a Mandalorian. It dredges up very early, blurry memories of Din on his own father’s knee while his mother makes their supper. The roles are reversed here, but the sight of his foster son sitting happily in your lap as he fixes dinner is enough to create a steady warmth to grow beneath his beskar chest plate, and he’s beginning to have a hard time trying to push it away.

As for you, at first this had been frustrating. On Earth you considered yourself to be an excellent cook, but out in the galaxy you have no idea what you’re doing when it comes to food. You miss Earth food a great deal, but its undeniable that Mando is culinarily talented. Even with the meager ingredients he’s able to pull together, he somehow always manages to come up with something far more delicious than anything you’ve been able to pull off. The kid also seems to agree, usually trying to clamber his way up to sneak more servings for himself even if he’s already had several to begin with. Food could have easily been a necessity for survival, not something Mando ever sought to take pleasure out of. You’re immensely glad that’s not the way he sees it. Usually your mouth waters at the mere thought of his cooking.

On this particular evening, you’re standing next to the Mandalorian rather than sitting on your crate. The kid is being bounced on your hip with the little silver ball he likes to steal from the cockpit. Mando has pretty much given up on taking it away at this point. The kid is holding it up to show it to his father, while saying something he clearly feels very strongly about in his nonsensical language of bubbling toddler-speak.

Din’s head tilts down from watching you bounce the child, to watch his son “talk” to him instead.

“Really?” Din says genuinely down to him in response, making an exaggerated face in spite of the kid not actually being able to see it, “You don’t say.” The little green boy smiles and coos back in delight. Din enjoys this mindless baby banter, but finds himself wondering out loud, “I wonder when you’re going to start talking, kid. It’d be nice to know what you’re saying one of these days.”

“How old is he anyway?” You ask, not looking up from the baby wiggling around in your arms.

Din responds immediately, almost casually, “He’s 50 years old. That’s why I took the bounty on him in the first place, I had no idea he was a kid.”

You turn your head up so fast that you’re sure you hear a bone in your neck crack, “50?! How is that even possible?” Your eyes scan over the tiny green thing and you can’t possibly fathom it.

“His species lives a lot longer than ours. He’s still considered to be an infant regardless of his age. This little womp rat here will probably live to be hundreds of years old,” Din explains, gently poking a finger on the child’s head.

You laugh then, shaking your head back down to the child on your hip. “And you can’t talk yet, nor can you wipe your own ass? You’re lucky you’re so adorable, little green bean.”

As Mando turns back to put the finishing touches on the meal, you keep your head tilted so that you can look at him from the corner of your eye. It isn’t lost on you that he’d called it “our” species, referring to the both of you being human. In a rare moment of feeling cocksure, you suddenly say, “So you’re a human under there after all, huh Mando?”

Din’s head jerks over to look at you, his eyebrows raising beneath the helmet. Still not really a proper question about him, but it’s formed enough like one to get his attention.

“What species did you think I was?” He counters seriously.

“That was a joke,” you say, suddenly feeling awkward. You worry that you’ve irritated him now, so your attitude becomes slightly dismissive as you turn to face away from him. “I figured you’re human, or at least humanoid. You’ve got five fingers on each hand,” you say nothing more on the subject.

Because your back is to him, Din’s eyes cannot help but land on your nice, firm backside. Truth be told... his eyes, deep brown and lusty beneath the beskar, do that a lot more than he’d readily admit. You’re wearing a black pair of what you’d once called “yoga pants” and they are... distracting to say the least.

Din curses lowly under his breath, vexed with your reluctance to talk to him about himself. He starts to play into it like he always does, pushing his irritation to the side and letting it go, telling himself its ultimately for the best not to get too close. But then you shift your footing and he watches as your ass shifts with it, rippling over to the left with the lightest of jiggles. Something within him shifts as well, and Din decides right then and there to just get the hell on with it. He sets the cooking utensils down and reduces the heat, before moving towards you.

You’re fully aware of every movement behind you without needing to turn around. You can sense Mando turning the heat on the food down before coming towards you. When you feel the height of him just a foot or so behind you, the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. The warm sensation returns low down in your belly, and your palms begin to moisten slightly. You’re not sure whether to face him or not. Deciding on the latter, you keep your back to him.

His modulated voice hovers about six or so inches above your head, “Why is it that you never ask me anything?”

That warmth in your belly becomes a steady heat at the sound of his voice. Squashing that down as best as you can, you sit the kid down on the floor and spin back around to face him. You’re very used to speaking to the helmet by now, and you see yourself raise an eyebrow in its reflective surface. You’d heard the way he’d asked it, but you decide to play dumb, “I ask you stuff all the time, Mando. I just asked about the kid a second ago! Sometimes I worry that it’s actually annoying.”

“If it was constant it would be,” he says honestly, head tilting ever so slightly to the right as his forearms cross just over his abdomen. “But, no. Not annoying. I know how... different this galaxy is for you, and it is a dangerous place. The more you know, the less I have to worry about saving your ass from something you could have prevented yourself.”

That head tilt to the right is most certainly a sign of him smirking under there, you’re willing to bet your Bowie t-shirt on it. And your knees wobble a little at the sound of his voice making a passing mention of your ass. If only he knew how deeply your depravity ran, of the things you’ve fantasized about him doing to your ass.

Face flushed, you force yourself to recover, “So what’s the deal then, chrome dome?”

He retorts evenly with, “You ask me about everything under the stars aside from, well, me. I’d like to know why.”

That’s not really what you’d expected at all, and it leaves you floored for a quick moment. So he noticed how hard you’d been trying to avoid that particular subject after all. You think about it earnestly before looking right in the visor, once again hitting your mark without even knowing it.

“You’re obviously a very private person,” you say, gesturing up to the helmet, “I may not understand that, but I can respect it. It would be wildly inappropriate for me to bombard you with personal questions. I’m your guest and since I may very well never find a way to make it back to my home world, I’d rather not overstay my welcome on this ship too quickly.”

Din’s head doesn’t move, but his shoulders soften slightly. “That’s...” he trails off, considering what he’s about to say next, “kind of you, to respect my privacy. I appreciate it, but you don’t have to be afraid to ask. You’re a curious woman, so I’m sure you have your questions. If you get too personal or if you do bother me too much at once, then I reserve the right not to answer you.”

You look up at him through thick lashes while your parted lips form into a small, shy grin. Din feels it then, something that had been long dormant within him before the day you came into his life. Pure, unadulterated, desire.

It stirs low inside of him like one of Nevarro’s lava pits, boiling steadily and beginning to crack at his once steely reserve. This is certainly not the first time a reaction like this has spurred within him, but this is by far some of the strongest attraction he’s ever felt towards another person. Din’s had a handful of encounters with women of various species over the years, and perhaps even felt a substantial sense of attraction to a few of them in his younger days, but never anything nearly so powerful as the aching, desperate need he feels when he looks down at you.

Then you reach your hand out towards him, towards the beskar pauldron on his right shoulder and your mouth opens as if to begin speaking. He quickly assumes that you’re about to ask him about the armor itself, what it’s made of. Technically still not an actual question about him. Downtrodden and genuinely disappointed, Din begins to prepare himself to begrudgingly explain the beskar to you, until you bypass the pauldron itself to trace a tentative finger over the signet there instead.

You delicately run the tip of your index finger over the mudhorn skull, looking up at him to meet the visor with that look of wonder Din is so powerless against. He might as well be tossed into a sarlacc pit right in that moment. He’s done for, even if he doesn’t realize it yet.

“What’s this represent?” You ask softly, running your finger up the length of the long horn. “I’ve wondered about it since we met. I can tell it’s the skull of an animal, but does it mean something special to you?” You chuckle a little, casting your eyes down to the symbol again, “We have an animal that kind of looks like this on Earth. It also has a horn on the end of its snout but not quite so huge. It’s called a rhinoceros.”

“Rhinoceros,” Din repeats the foreign word slowly, stumbling over some of the pronunciation. What an odd name for an animal.

You laugh brightly at hearing the word on his tongue, grinning up at him, “Rhino for short. I assume that this thing is probably gigantic in comparison to the thing on Earth, just like a lot of things in this galaxy seem to be.”

“It’s called a mudhorn,” he says simply after letting you ramble, “I had to kill one in battle, so it became my signet. My clan insignia, clan Mudhorn.”

You feel a pit in the bottom of your stomach form at that. If clan means the same thing out here as it does back on Earth, then he’s referring to his family. Does Mando have some family back on some planet that he’s never mentioned? Swallowing the lump in your dry throat, and though the childish part of you doesn't even want to know the answer, you ask him, “How many people are in your clan?”

But then Mando scoops the kid up as the little bugger runs between the two of you, and the helmet again fixes on you as he says, “Just two.”

Your heart just about turns to pudding within your chest right there. It’s all you can do not to clutch a hand to your collarbone and make a noise of endearment. The kid is truly all the Mandalorian has in this world? And one day he’ll inevitably have to give the green toddler up if they ever find his own kind? The muscle pumping blood through your body both swells and breaks for Mando all at once.

Deciding not to press your luck and that one question is enough for now, you’re satisfied with this new information about your mysterious cosmic companion for the time being.

But then he surprises you by saying, “If you’d like to join me up in the cockpit after I take my meal, I could tell you more about it.”

You’re sure the surprise is evident on your face, but you smile regardless, “I’d like that,” is all you can say.

No one speaks after that. He portions out a bowl of food for the three of you and hands you yours, making you feel nervous as your hand brushes against his glove. You thank him for dinner and he nods in a silent welcome before quickly making his way up to the cockpit. You’re a giddy mess as you scramble to deposit a protein pack in Jupiter’s bowl and situate yourself with the kid to eat your own meals. You’re so wound up that you barely want to eat, but force yourself to do so anyway. You let the kid have what you can’t finish.

Up in the cockpit the helmet drops to the ground with a loud thunk before he’s even in his seat. Din has never eaten so quickly in his life.

Within five minutes he’s calling down to you that you can come up when you’re ready, and in a gesture you know all too well at this point, his gloves appear from the opening in the ceiling for the kid. He passes his empty bowl down, and you thank him for supper as you then pass the kid up to him in exchange. You have to excuse yourself to the fresher to pull yourself together before joining them upstairs.

When you eventually do make your way up to the cockpit, you take your usual seat behind and to the left of the Mandalorian. He turns the pilot’s seat to face you while the kid sits in the other passenger seat, too happily occupied by the silver ball to notice the adults’ growing tension in the tiny control room. Mando could be making stupid faces under that thing for all you know, but you’re willing to bet he’s fixing you with some sort of serious look. It causes you to squirm in your seat, flushing as you look away from him shyly.

Even on Earth, there had never been a single, solitary man who had this much of an inaugural effect on you. Mando’s got steady a hold over you already, and you’re pretty sure you’re reaching that point of being willing to do literally anything to be close to him. You suddenly find yourself desperately wanting to take care of him in some way, to show some sort of affection in the way you know best.

“Would you like to hear about the mudhorn?” Din asks, looking from you to the kid. Does he want to tell you the truth about the kid? Din’s pretty sure he can trust that you are who you say you are at this point, and that you harbor no secret ill will towards the child. You’re not going to suddenly turn him in to the Empire. Hell, you probably still don’t even understand what the Empire used to be, let alone what the shambles of it are now.

When he looks back to you, you nod in the affirmative, “Only if you want to tell me.”

You’re surprised by his willingness to tell you this story, and you’re equally surprised by how long he makes the act of telling it. Mando is a man a few words generally, and this is the most you’ve heard him use his handsome sounding voice in one sitting since the two of you met. Usually you’re the one doing the talking, telling long winded stories. But because he is a man of few words Mando chooses them very carefully, and so he’s able to paint a fairly clear picture in your head of the events which led to the mudhorn. Kuill and the blurrgs. Finding the kid, returning to the Razor Crest to find it scrapped by Jawas, chasing said Jawas down and having them demand the egg of a mudhorn in return for the ship’s parts. Then he tells you about getting his ass handed to him by the mama mudhorn, nearly dying in the process, before the kid saved him.

“What do you mean the kid saved you?” You ask, incredulously looking over at the toddler as he still continues to suck on the silver ball and babble to himself. “Is that some kind of metaphor for, like, what you were missing in your life?”

“What? No, not like that.” Din says with a shake of the head, though something in your words rings true for him in the back of his mind. “The kid, he can do things. Has... abilities.”

Again you look to the child, and your jaw drops open, “Like he’s got superpowers? You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

“Hey, watch the language in front of the kid,” Mando says sternly, “He can do things with his mind. You need to know about it incase he ever does it in front of you. Usually it’s a defensive thing, but I’ve also seen him use it to cause trouble.”

You gloss over the thing about the kid for a moment, focusing instead on the light scolding you’d just received. He hadn’t been rude about it, in fact the dad-like way he’d said it makes you smile. “I thought you guys don’t even have that word in basic,” you say, laughing.

“You say it enough that I was able to gather it’s inappropriate nature from the connotation in which you use it. What does it mean, anyway?” He asks, curious.

Embarrassed slightly, and not wanting to think about the way you’d love to hear him say that particular word to you, you shake your head. “That’s an adults-only explanation... So back to the little superhero over there?”

“That’s all. He used his magic powers or whatever they are to stop the mudhorn from charging me, and I was able to kill it. We retrieved the egg, and I got my parts back.” Mando replies, and you still can’t wrap your head around that tiny thing having abilities.

It’s not that you don’t believe it. You’ve been sucked through a man-made black hole in your grandfather’s basement and ended up stranded billions of light years away from home. Of course you believe it, you just don’t know how that could come out of something so precious and innocent.

“Well that’s certainly not what I thought you were going to tell me,” you breathe out with a shake of the head, “I’m shocked.”

The Mandalorian actually laughs a little beneath the beskar, “Imagine my shock. That thing was floating off the ground. Poor kid slept for nearly a full day after.”

“Poor fella,” you say, standing to scoop the kid up for an embrace. You begin bouncing him back and forth while making your way to stand beside the pilots seat as Mando turns it back to face forward. “It’s hard work protecting your dad from big, scary mudhorns, huh?” The kid just babbles up at you, and you hand the silver ball over to Mando so it can be screwed back into the shift.

“What happened after that?” You ask, wanting to know everything about him now that you know he’s willing to tell you.

“That’s a story for another time,” Din says while reaching with his right arm to screw the ball in. The injury in his shoulder from the previous week flares up then, causing him to hiss out, “Dank farrik,” under his breath.

You can’t help yourself, “Language in front of the kid, Mando.”

“I deserve that,” he says, still hissing in pain as he slowly pulls his arm back with a groan, opening and closing his fingers several times.

“I’m kidding. Are you okay?” You ask, genuinely concerned for him.

He nods, “Pulled my shoulder hunting the last quarry. Still sore.”

You set the baby back down on the passenger seat and return to Mando’s side, “That was almost a week ago, are you sure you’re alright?”

“I’ll be fine,” Din says somewhat curtly. He’s had worse.

“Well it doesn’t help that you’ve been sleeping up here for well over a month. That can’t be comfortable,” you suddenly feel incredibly guilty for having taken his bed, “Please take the cot back tonight, I’d hate to see you make it any worse. I’ll find somewhere else.”

“No,” he argues again, “I’ll be fine.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes, “So the men in this galaxy are stubborn too, huh? And here I thought it was just an Earth thing.”

Din doesn't know what to say to that, so he says nothing, which elicits an exasperated sigh from you. He suddenly feels your hand on his right pauldron for the second time that night, but this time it begins to pull. His own hand flies up to catch yours and the helmet snaps up at you while the leather covered fingers around your hand apply a light amount of pressure. This is the most he’s ever touched you.

“What are you doing?” He asks, halting your movements.

“Relax,” you draw out the word, “I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable. You need that shoulder rubbed, and I can’t do that for you with your armor on.” Feeling rather brave, you bend to hover your head beside the helmet, placing both hands on the pauldron and pulling lightly at it again. You drop your voice down an octave, softly saying, “Let me take care of you, Mando.”

Those words again leave Din at a loss for any of his own, and his hand melts back down to his lap. He doesn’t stop you when you pull his pauldron off completely, setting it down carefully on the seat you usually sit in. He lets you do the same to the vambrace on his forearm, using his other hand to help you get it off. His entire right arm suddenly feels so bare without the beskar, in spite of still being covered in layers of clothing.

“Can you take the cloak off too?” You ask nervously. This is quickly becoming uncharted territory.

Din complies, taking he beskar off of his left arm as well before handing all of it over to you. You set everything down so gingerly that Din can sense how much you respect his armor just from the delicate way you handle it. “Thank you. For being so careful with that.”

“Wouldn’t dream of messing it up. What’s this stuff made of anyway? It’s lighter than I expected it to be.”

“Mandalorian beskar. It’s one of the most indestructible substances in the galaxy, and weighs less than most common metals.”

“Like vibrianium! Heh, that’s awesome,” you laugh.

“Let me guess. Earth thing?”

“You got it.”

Din is too lost in the idle conversation to realize how bare he truly is at first, but this is certainly the most exposed he’s ever been around you. As you’ve been talking, everything on his torso aside from the thin, long sleeved undershirt and his gloves have been simultaneously removed and placed in the passenger seat. He finds himself wondering how he suddenly let it come to this.

Maker, it’s been so long since he’s been touched. His stomach is doing strange things inside of his body, his skin tingling all over.

You are similarly wondering the same thing, as you look down and get the tiniest glimpse of skin on the back of his neck. A small sliver of flesh tucked between his shirt collar and the base of the helmet. It appears to be tan, which should suggest that he’s naturally so. You highly doubt he has ever laid half naked in the sun just to vainly darken his skin tone, but that’s a sight you’d surely love to see. That little bit of skin nearly breaks you, but you ignore it.

Coming to stand directly behind the pilot’s seat, you instruct him to lean forward slightly and he complies. Your hands come to rest on either of his shoulders, and you suddenly catch a whiff of that scent from the cot. His scent. You breathe it in, and begin knead in your knuckles into his back. You start in near his spine and push both up and out, when a loud noise that sounds almost pained escapes him. You can see your own surprised expression in the silver reflection on the back of his head, moving your thumbs to rub circles into the base of his neck, just below the exposed patch of skin.

“Are you okay?” You pause to check on him

“Keep going,” he grunts out, and so you do.

You work at his shoulders for a good five minutes, focusing extra attentiveness on the shoulder he’s having trouble with. He makes noises here and there, but other than that you both stay fairly quiet. After you’ve given his shoulder enough attention, you work both of your hands slowly down his right arm. Your thumbs press into the knotted bicep, then the tricep, and Mando’s usually tense body practically liquefies into the seat under your grasp.

“Has anyone ever done this for you?” You ask seriously, making your way now down to his tight forearm.

“No,” Din says after a moment, groaning when you hit a particularly sensitive knot, “Never-gah-had anyone offer.”

“Never? Their loss,” you say, pulling his arm up towards you to stretch it out straight. He lets you guide him easily. “Does your hand hurt as well?”

Mando nods, and without prompting you kneel down beside him to get at a better angle and begin tentatively undoing the strap of his glove. Your fingers stall around his wrist as your eyes meet the visor, wordlessly asking for his permission for what you’re about to do, and he nods again. It hitches in your throat slightly, but you take a deep breath regardless to prepare yourself to cross this next line.

Tugging at the clay colored tips, you begin to gently pull the glove from his hand. The skin revealed beneath the leather is the same tan as the skin on the back of his neck, solidifying your theory that this is a natural occurrence. The knuckles are slightly dry, with small scars resting in between some of the rough peaks of bone and dark hairs dusting the fleshy terrain. The glove falls to his lap as you remove it completely, examining each finger carefully before flipping his hand entirely so you can examine his palm. All the usual lines and finger prints are there, and there’s an old burn scar just below his thumb where his wrist and palm meet. It looks like the initial wound had been a nasty one. You run your own thumb over it and look at the helmet again.

“How did you get this?” You ask.

“Don’t remember. Have so many that I lose track,” he replies.

“You have nice hands,” you say casually, not surprised when he says nothing in return. Instead you make yourself focus on the work, pressing into the palm and making your way up each finger with equal attention to each digit. His thumb pops when you unintentionally pull on it just the right way, and his entire body jerks forward a little.

This goes on for another few moments, until your own hand begins to cramp up on you. You pull it back suddenly, cracking your middle finger with a low hiss before yanking on your own thumb and spinning your wrist a few times.

“You okay?” Mando asks, sitting up slightly to look at you.

“Yeah just my hand cramping. I may need to call it quits,” you say, beginning to pull away before he stops you. For a moment his bare hand is just holding yours, and your mouth begins to severely dry up.

“Wait, let me. This hand?” Mando says, and you simply nod, dumbstruck. He quickly pulls the glove off of his other hand, and begins kneading both of his bare thumbs into your palm. “So soft,” he murmurs to himself, though you can hear him clear as day. Neither of you address it.

“Good grief,” you mutter as he hits the sore spot below your thumb, holding back a moan.

The Mandalorian mimics the same way you had massaged his hand, working his way slowly up each one of your slender fingers until he reaches the painted nails. It’s over in a matter of minutes and you eventually pull your hand back to shake it a few times, wiggling your fingers. When the audacity of what just happened occurs to you, you cannot help but blush. You’re still kneeling down beside Mando, looking up at the helmet bashfully.

“Thank you,” you say, casting your eyes back down to his unconfined hands.

Din doesn’t even consider the next thing he does. Involuntarily, his right hand reaches out to run over your hair, moving some of it out of your face. “Likewise, ner burc’ya.” he says lowly.

Puzzled by hearing him speak what is obviously another language, you look to him for an explanation. “What does that mean?”

“It’s Mando’a for ‘my friend’,” he says in a tone that brings heat to your cheeks.

Then he pulls away to begin replacing the gloves over his hands. You’re disheartened slightly both that he’s no longer touching you and to see his mesmerizing skin disappear once more. You cannot help the sudden longing you feel to see more of it, and in very particular places.

“How’s your shoulder?” You ask, standing to grab the suddenly tired looking kid and bring him over to the Mandalorian, knowing full well how much Mando likes to hold the kid as he falls asleep. This has never been discussed between you, but you know it to be true.

“Better, still not great,” Din says honestly, reaching for the increasingly sleepy toddler.

“I think you should sleep in the cot tonight,” you insist again, “and I’m not really willing to take no for an answer.”

Din looks up to where you stand beside him, fixing him with a pointed look. He knows it’s probably not worth arguing, and he does miss being able to lay out properly. “What about you?”

You wave him off, “I’ll make due, isn’t that what you said to me? You deserve a good night of sleep too, Mando. Especially if there’s another quarry only two days away.”

Din decides that you have a point, and nods, “Fine. Just for a few hours.”

Your eyes roll unceremoniously, “For fuck’s sake, sleep for as long as you need to.”

*****

As Din climbs into the cot later that night, the smell of you is completely overwhelming. Even with his helmet on, your natural aroma is so distinct. Some of your things are strewn about inside, as you’ve clearly made yourself at home over the past several weeks. There’s the small bottle of that strange black liquid you like to decorate your nails with, as well as a dark purple garment you wear almost daily. You’ve told him it’s called a “hoodie”. Though you’ve managed to make it seem more comfortable with the addition of a pillow and blanket, everyone on the ship is aware that a real bed would be far more preferable.

The kid would usually already be asleep in the hammock above Din’s head by now, but you’d suggested letting him sleep in the pram for the night so that Din could get some sleep of his own without interruption. So once the door slides shut behind him, he’s completely alone. Din normally just sleeps with the helmet on for fear of not wanting to be woken up off guard without it, but something makes him slide the thing off of his head and place it in the storage net hanging on the back wall next to your backpack, soon followed by his gloves. He’s without his boots already and still without the beskar on his torso, all more suggestions of yours. You’d sternly told him you expected him to get as comfortable as possible, and so Din complies with this demand.

Your scent is one of the most wonderful things Din has ever experienced. Without the helmet on, his sense of smell is assaulted by you. He can’t help himself as he lifts the black blanket up to his uncovered face, inhaling as much of you as he possibly can. When his head hits the pillow he also can’t help but to nuzzle his nose into the soft fabric, breathing in your essence as if it is the very oxygen his body needs in order to live.

Din falls asleep clutching your purple hoodie to his chest, while thinking about how soft your hand felt in comparison to his.

When he wakes several hours later, Din takes one last instant to enjoy the aroma around him without the barrier of beskar. His dark eyes slip closed while he savors the moment, before replacing the helmet to its rightful perch on his head and making his way out of the cot to find you and the kid. His boots are waiting for him just outside, so he slips those on as he looks around. There’s no sign of either of you anywhere on the first floor of the ship, not even the cat.

Din climbs up to the second floor to look for you, the cockpit door sliding open with the usual swishing sound. The overhead lights have been dimmed to nothing, so the only real light is coming from the various illuminated buttons up front. At first he walks in far enough only to notice that the empty pram is in the kid’s usual seat, and his beskar is still where he’d left it in yours. He stops right in his tracks once he gets far enough inside to actually see you, his chest swelling almost painfully at the sight before his eyes.

You’re curled up in the pilot’s seat at an angle that has got to be doing horrendous things to your back, one leg tucked underneath your ass while the other is propped up on an area of the control panel without any actual controls. The kid is sleeping soundly on your chest, his ears turned down in a relaxed position with his head turned to face towards Din’s direction. A green fist is curled up tightly in your shirt, while the kid’s little mouth hangs open and the tiniest bit of drool escapes out the side and onto the fabric.

Also sleeping soundly, you’ve got your head of wild hair leaning back into the seat’s headrest as your own mouth hangs open a little. One arm is draped protectively around the kid, and the other dangles uselessly off the side of the armrest. Din’s cloak is draped around the two of you as a makeshift blanket, and the cat is curled up into a ball of fluff on your lap, just below the kid. One of Jupiter’s tawny eyes opens to look skeptically up at him, before she closes it again and readjusts her sleeping position.

The image of this, the emotions it stirs within him, leaves Din’s head nearly ringing from the intensity of it. This quiet moment of serene hyperspace dancing in the background of his ship, of his home. You, easily most beautiful woman he’s ever met, holding his sleeping child to your breast. His cloak draped around the two of you, almost symbolic of what this little group is slowly beginning to mean to him.

A whisper of a thought begins to prick at the back of his mind then. A dangerous, self destructive thought which can only lead Din Djarin down a path of heartache should he let things get out of hand.

Once he hears his own voice murmur the words inside his head, he realizes that things were already well out of hand when it had only been him and the kid. Now, with the addition of you in the equation, it’s actually becoming quite the complicated situation. Din is now in a very treacherous new land, the thought echoing once more through his mind before he pushes it as far away as he can.

Don’t want them to leave...

*****

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