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sofiaaaaaaaa03 · 3 years

Text

Chaotic Foundling

Paring: Din Djarin x teen reader (GN)

Word count: 1,908

Rating : PG

Summary : Din's foundling is a wild thing and poor him has to do his best and parent them.

Warning: I am not really that wild so I did my best to show that they really don't have any boundaries in life lol. I hope you enjoy :)

It only took Din a day after taking you in to realize how much of a handful you would become. Sure, he thought that you were just a little on the hyperactive side…. He was quickly proven wrong.

“Stay put. Stay quiet.” Din sat you on the co-pilot’s seat of the Razor Crest. He was making last minute preparations for their departure off-planet. “I’ll be right back.”

“Okay.” You hummed, swinging your legs in the chair as he walked off.

He made his way over to the sleeping quarters to check on Grogu. The Mandalorian was unable to make a proper check up as the ship suddenly jerked, tripping Din over his feet and face first into the floor. His armor rang loudly in his ears, disorienting him for several clicks before he managed to make a proper stance and run to the cockpit. There, he found you sitting in the pilot’s chair, his chair, a wild grin on your face as you gripped the controls.

You made a disappointed grunt when Din tried to pry your hands off of the controls.

“No!” You swatted at his hands in an attempt to stop him but he overpowered you quickly, landing the razor crest in a fast manner. The pit was silent except for the occasional beeping of machinery.

Din suddenly turned to you. “What was that?”

“You took forever!”

Din paused a moment, seemingly in disbelief despite not being able to see his face. “I was gone five seconds.”

----------

“Y/N! Stay put. I’m coming to get you.” Din stood at the base of a dune, staring up into the sky where you were. He had turned away for one second the next thing he knew was you got nabbed by local thieves who’d made a surprise attack, taken up into the air by one of them mounted on their cruisers as others surrounded him.

“No shit!” Your voice rang from above.

Din was quick to overpower the group around him. They were equipped with menial weapons that were nothing compared to his beskar. After throwing the last of the men to the ground, Din made a move to activate his jetpack when a body fell to his feet. He paused a click, seemingly unaffected by the sudden crack the body made and looked up at the cruiser where you sat alone.

To say that Din was proud would have been an understatement.

“Good job kid,” Din beamed underneath his beskar. “Sit tight, I’m- hey- wait- NO.”

Without giving Din a chance to finish his statement you dove into the air. You had no parachute or jetpack on your own. Instead you dawned a crazed grin on your face and a light in your eyes as you fell closer and closer to the ground. Your mouth opened to yell in joy, but instead made an “oof” sound when Din caught you midair.

“STILL ALIVE!” You exclaimed, dangling upside down from the way Din managed to catch you.

“Maybe if I drop you you’ll have some sense knocked into that head of yours.”

-----

Din thought that after the endless lectures you’d come to realize that you were to stay put where you were told as he went into battle. He quickly realized he was wrong when amidst the soldiers was speck of (H/C). He paused for a moment, unsure of what to think as he scanned the area for whatever it was he saw. Blasters grazed his helmet and hit a droid behind him, Din quickly straightened up and turned to the fallen droid before diverting his gaze back to whoever shot the fire.

There you were, carrying a blaster almost twice your size with Grogu swaddled on your back. And you were… laughing?

“Y/N” Din began marching towards you too.

“I wish I could have seen the look on your face.” You wheezed, jumping up and down. Din worried for the blaster in your hands and whoever was unfortunate enough to receive the next shot, most importantly whether it was to be on purpose or not. “Guess you weren’t ready for me to save your butt just now. You’re getting slow Din!”

A blast shot out of Din’s weapon as a soldier advanced toward the two children. You barely made a reaction as you were in the middle of spinning in joy.

“Where did you get that? I- Y’know what- nevermind. Go back to the ship. We’ll talk later.”

“But we like it here-”

“Now.”

You looked at Din a moment with a small frown. It quickly concerned Din when he saw that frown turn into a toothy grin, but before he could say anything a cruiser zoomed past him and all he could do was watch as you somehow mounted the vehicle mid-air, laughing with a wild glint in your eyes,

“No. Kid get off. No, no- Y/N! Hey!” Din broke into a run and followed the cruiser as you taunted him by sticking out your tongue and shooting the blaster recklessly.

---

The Mandalorian was assigned to hunt down a Bosa that had been terrorizing a peaceful farming village. After leaving you and Grogu to the care of the villagers, he spent the next several days tracking down the beast before he finally found it. What he was not expecting to find was you taunting the trapped beast with a metal pole and a blaster by your side. How you managed to trap it, Din didn’t know. He didn’t even want to know how long you waited before sneaking out of the village. But he turned to find Grogu nearby watching, giggling wildly until he fell over.

Din tried to call for you, but you didn’t hear as the beast roared loudly at you. You bore a crazed grin and screamed back at the creature, your face unnecessarily close to its mouth, and laughed wildly as you poked the creature with a stick. Just as the creature was about to try and bite you from it’s trap, Din picked you up and carried you and Grogu away from the creature.

“Can we cook it??”

----

With the amount of trouble you’ve caused for Din he’s learned to do a routine checkup to make sure that you had all of your limbs intact as they should be. With the amount of trouble you went into, from taking big falls and getting hit by a dewback -long story- he realized that checkups were a necessity as you probably had more mishaps and adventures than you let on.

“YOU’LL NEVER TAKE ME ALIVE.”

“You need the bacta kid,” Din was hot on your tail as you ran away from him and the bacta spray in your hands. He quickly put you in a corner. “Aha. C’mere, it’ll only sting a little.”

He took some steps forward and knelt down, opening his hand so as to invite you to allow him to put the spray on your arm. For a moment, he saw your eyes soften and thought he finally got through to you.

“SNEAK ATTACK.”

Seemingly out of nowhere you smacked a metal breastplate against his helmet and made a run for it as he was disoriented.

---

For obvious reasons, Din had to find a lock for the armory. He took you and Grogu with him to the local market close to where they were given room and board for the night.

“Put it back.”

Your hand froze, holding a blade in your hand. You quickly stuffed it out of sight even though Din was ahead of you and wasn’t looking in your direction. “Put what back?”

Din stopped after a few paces, his attention turned to a fruit stand and began to pick up some and check to see if they were ripe. “What happened to the credits I gave you?”

“I lost them.”

A sigh. Din wasn’t surprised. “How?”

There was a pause.

“Gambling.” The largest smirk spreads across your face.

Din whipped around. He blinked for several moments and enunciated each syllable, tone almost sarcastic and defeated as though he was trying to not believe what you’d said “Gambling?” You nodded enthusiastically. With a sign, Din decided that he didn’t want to deal with any interrogation and cause a scene, instead he grabbed your arm to lead you in front. “We’ll talk about it later. For now, you in front until we get to the ship.”

The clan made their way down the marketplace until Din steered the troupe to a vendor with an array of weapons on her stall. You were left admiring the pieces as Din made his business. He needed some information regarding his next bounty and thanked the vendor afterwards, paying a little extra for her cooperation before turning to you.

“What?” You stared up at him with widened eyes.

Din held his hand out, “C’mon.”

You stared at his hand for a moment before sighing, fishing a small bomb out and placing it in his hand. The vendor watched wide eyed but said nothing as Din returned the ware to her and returned his gaze to you. “All of it. I wasn’t born yesterday.”

A moment. Then a sigh as you find that you had no way out of it. You pulled out all of the wares you’d stolen from the stand alone, putting them all on a considerably big pile on the stall while the vendor quickly retrieved them to put away.

“There.” You huffed, crossing your arms and turning away from Din.

“Thank you.” Din’s tone was sarcastic.

“Yeah, no problem rust bucket.”

Din shook his head and turned to the woman, “I’m sorry. My foundling hasn’t broken their habit of stealing. I hope you can understand.”

After he made you apologize to the vendor he took you by your arm and walked you back through the streets and towards the ship. He sighed, “I don’t know why I bring you to the markets. If you don’t stop this you’ll end up stealing from the wrong hand. And then what will you do?”

“Die probably”

---

Din knocked on the door of your sleeping cot. It was early morning and he needed you to help him with some preparations for the next trip off planet.

“Y/N. I need you to help me out with inventory. Can you come out?”

The door made a hiss before opening and you bounced out of the hull and zoomed off, ready to tackle the tasks. You were usually ecstatic to go off-planet, despite Din’s dismay as he knew it meant you’d find yourself into more trouble. He chuckled a moment and was going to walk off when the datapad on your bed caught his attention. He picked it up a moment and gazed at the screen.

You perked up at his voice while you were on your way to the storage below the floorboards. “Kid, what’s this?” He had the screen facing you, showing detailed maps of star destroyers and other military projects.

You gave the screen a glance before disappearing under the floorboards, your voice echoing louder from beneath. “I was just messing around a bit with some channels and found that.”

Din stared at the pit where you were for a moment before walking off into the cockpit, falling into his chair. He found himself facing an unprecedented predicament in which he was faced to call for Bo-Katan to inform her that his foundling had hacked into the Empire’s system.

Tag list:

@kiara-is-gay @sagedgeek

#dad!din #din djarin x reader #din djarin #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #star wars #star wars x reader #gender neutral reader #teen reader #star wars reader insert #reader insert #grogu #foundlings #pedro pascal

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dameronology · 3 years

Text

rescuer {din djarin}

summary: din djarin rescued you - and then you rescued him {for @drinksomecoco !! i hope u enjoy}

warnings: brief mentions of torture, swearing

this is like....4k words?? it got a little out of hand, i won't lie to u.

- jazz xx

It wasn’t often that The Mandalorian found himself becoming attached to bounties.

Twice. He’d done it twice.

The first time, he swore to himself that it would be the last. Adopting his little green surrogate...frog? Son?

Okay, adopting his little green surrogate Grogu had brought enough tension into his life. It had gotten him back onto the radars of both the Empire and the New Republic; thrown him into some weird form of fatherhood that he wasn’t quite ready for and tipped his entire way of life upside down. Despite all that, he never stopped to question if all the exhaustion was more trouble than it was worth, because he loved his kid. Completely and entirely in ways that no parenting book or fairytale could ever quite describe. It was an intense form of love and attachment - and Din knew it was going to hurt when he would eventually have to return the Child to his own people. That was a little far off though, because he couldn’t investigate any further til he had the means to do so. Money and resources weren’t limitless and even The Mandalorian had to find means to an end.

Going back to the Bounty Hunter’s Guild wasn’t ideal, especially not with the kid in tow - but did he have any other way? Din didn’t know any other way of life, let alone another way of earning money. Besides, he figured it would only be a quick few months. A couple jobs here and there until he had enough in savings to travel far enough to find where Grogu really came from.

But it was two bounties; two bounties that he would find himself becoming attached to. Grogu was the only one.

It was through that decision to return to the Guild that Din Djarin would find himself stumbling across the next one. He was offered five pucks - the first four were easy. Standard jobs, really. Runaway criminals and Imps who had crossed people so many times that trying to work out their loyalty was head-ache inducing. He found them all in a matter of days, really. They were good at hiding but it didn’t count for much when The Mandalorian was good at finding.

Then there was you; the fifth puck. The one he thought was going to be the easiest.

Finding you wasn’t a problem. Tucked away in a corner of rural Tatooine - maybe twenty, twenty five minutes shy of Mos Eisley - you were hiding in plain sight. It would have been enough to protect you from anyone else but Din was an unrelenting expert in finding those who didn’t want to be found.

He never quite knew what to expect when he closed in on a bounty. Sometimes they ran and sometimes they hid. A few of them had tried to appeal to his humanity; to try and connect with the man they hoped was behind the mask. Because aside from the husky voice that occasionally escaped the helmet, there was no proof that The Mandalorian was anything other than a very convincing droid. That was, until, someone would lay a hand on his son or ship and suddenly, a wave of pure human rage would burst out from beneath the beskar.

You couldn’t have hidden from him or run away, even if you wanted to. Not because you were scared, but because you were chained up; wrists and ankles in shackles, keeping you tied to the walls of a filthy docking bay. From the sand piled around your feet, it was clear that you had tried to kick up a fuss at some point.

But based on the way that you looked at him - with tired eyes and a hopeless expression - that made Din realise: you’d lost the will to fight. He knew that you weren’t going to wriggle away or try to engage in combat.

“Are you…” The Mandalorian trailed off. “Are you alone?”

“Probably,” your eyes flicked up from the ground, unknowingly capturing his gaze. “I think I’ve been left for dead.”

He sighed. “I’m looking for a...Kan Durant. Is he here?”

“No,” you shot back. “He left me here for dead about a week ago. Probably knew that a bounty hunter was going to come after him at some point.”

“Do you know where he went?”

“I’m chained up,” you said. “Isn’t the answer to your question a little axiomatic?”

“Maybe,” he replied. “But if you know anything, it might be helpful.”

“Try Corellia,” you muttered.

Corellia. That was...doable. Not too far and not too hard to search. That would be his fifth and final puck and then Din could set off for the sunset in search of his kid’s home planet. That’s what this whole thing had been about.

But...you. You’d been left for dead - and based on the bruises around your eyes and on your limbs, that was the least of what you’d gone through recently. What kind of man would it make him if he left you? A fucking awful one, obviously, but what was he supposed to do?

Din slowly leant down, pulling a thin tool from his belt. He fiddled around with your cuffs for a moment, until there was a low hiss. They fell from your hands and onto the sandy ground - he expected you to get up, or to run, or do anything but sit there and stare at him with gaunt eyes. Maybe it was foolish of him to think that merely freeing you of your restraints was doing his part for the greater good.

“Is there anywhere around here where you can go?” he asked. “An inn? A cantina?”

You snorted. “No. I’ll die.”

“You can get food and medicine out there.”

“Mos Eisley is swarming with Durant’s men,” you explained. “The minute I step foot in any town or port here, they’ll know.”

Maybe being with Grogu had softened him, or maybe The Mandalorian genuinely couldn’t find it himself to leave you. But, he found himself doing the unthinkable: sticking his hand out to you, lifting you up, and leading you out of the docking bay and back towards his ship. He didn’t know what he was going to do or how he was going to do it but really, he hadn’t thought that far ahead. His main focus had been on keeping you alive until you were within the safety of the Crest.

You stumbled slightly when he put you down, tripping and falling towards the control panel to shut the loading bay doors. At least you were intuitive.

With that, you fell back to the ground. It was becoming clearer and clearer that you were in a bit of a state - how long did you say it had been? A week since Durant had left - so that was at least seven days without proper food or water. It was a miracle you were alive. Din had got there just in time.

“Why are you helping me?” you asked. “What do you want?”

He glanced over in your direction. “I don’t want anything.”

“I don’t believe that for a second,” you shot back.

“I wasn’t going to leave you there,” Din replied. He paused for a moment, before turning to face you. “I’ve heard Durant’s name before. I know what he does to people.”

“Aren’t you more worried about finding him and getting the bounty?” you pushed.

Truth be told, Din wasn’t that bothered. He had enough money from the last four pucks to get him where he needed to be. The fifth had just been a little extra, so he had an easier time letting go of it. He certainly wasn’t the only hunter going after Durant’s ass and worst case scenario, Karga would give him a little bit of shit for not completing the job. All of that was a lot more manageable than living with the guilt of leaving you in the dark to die.

“Someone else will get him. I’m sure.” Din muttered. He reached for a ration pack stored away on a shelf and tossed it in your direction. “You should eat this. I’ll get us in the air and find some bacta-”

“- you really don’t need to,” you cut him off.

“Eat,” he pushed again. “You’re weak. You’ll need it.”

Over the next few days, you would come to find that forceful-but-caring demands were The Mandalorian’s main language.

He didn’t talk much - or at all really. He didn’t need to, not when you kept to yourself on the lower deck of the ship whilst he dealt with everything else. He didn’t seem to mind that you weren’t helping; after all, you’d been in a weak state when Din had found you and standing up had been hard, let alone maneuvering around the flying hunk of metal. You were beginning to feel a little more spry, thanks to the food, water and bactaspray. The combination was hardly an elixir of life but you’d found yourself feeling a little more human.

Sleep was the hard one. A combination of confusion - at the situation, at Din, at where you were going - and nightmares made it hard. Every time you closed your eyes, you found yourself hurtling back in time to when Durant had first captured you. You’d been a test dummy for all his weapons and experiments and really, you were just lucky to be alive and in one piece. It didn’t count for much though, not when you couldn’t get a single fucking second of shut eye.

You would have been a fool to think that Din hadn’t picked up on it.

He was observational by nature and even more so by craft. A man who was constantly looking over his shoulder and straight ahead; a warrior who had been raised to keep a weapon by his side at all times. Of course he was going to notice your insomnia, and the way your eyes seemed even more sunken and dull than when he’d first found you.

You were sitting in the hull when he approached you. Not a lot had been said, other than the occasional eat this or put this on your bruises. Again - all a little forceful, but with a sense of genuinity behind the words. You still had a hard time believing that he was legitimately just a man who wanted to help you.

“I find that noise helps.”

You glanced up at him. “I’m sorry?”

He cleared his throat. “When I can’t sleep, and when I have nightmares, I find that being in a room with white noise helps distract my brain.”

“Oh, right,” you gave him a small nod. “I s’pose it is pretty quiet down here.”

“It’s noisier up there in the cockpit,” he replied. “We’re going to be in hyperspace for a while so if you want to get some sleep, I’ll stay down here.”

“Thank you.”

For the first time in days, you finally showed a glimmer of emotion. It was just a smile - and one he figured was a forced one - but still, it was a good sign.

Din’s eyes followed you as you stood up, heading for the ladder up to the cockpit. You stopped in front of it for a moment, palms wrapping around one of the rungs. At first, he thought you were just pondering, or taking a moment to rethink your actions, but then a light bulb went off in his head. You were too weak.

Moving slowly, The Mandalorian positioned himself behind you.

“Is it okay if I put them here?” he quietly asked, large, gloved hands hovering over the side of your hips.

“Uh, yeah,” you replied. “Thank you.”

With Din’s support, you were able to grab onto the hatch above and pull yourself up, boots hitting the ground of the cockpit. He followed you up, guiding you over to one of the pilot’s chairs. The lights of hyperspace were flashing by, illuminating the entire room in a white-gold glow. It felt odd to be up here after so many days of confining yourself just to the hull - forbidden, even with the invite from The Mandalorian himself.

“How did you know that I get nightmares?” you asked, turning around to face him.

The helmet tilted slightly. “I get them too.”

“I’m sorry,” you softly sighed. “Thank you again for your help.”

“It’s okay,” Din brushed it off as though it were nothing. “We have about four hours til our next stop. I’ll wake you up before we get there.”

“Is that where I get off?” you asked.

“No,” he firmly replied. “It’s not safe there either.”

You had more questions that you wanted to ask - now more than ever that he was finally talking - but you were far too exhausted to even try. Once you’d fallen back against the chair and been handed a blanket out of nowhere, the noise of the surrounding machines practically dragged you out of consciousness.

---

One question you had wanted to ask Din had been about the duration of your stay.

How long were you supposed to stay on board? How long did he want you there?

You were almost scared to ask, for fear of the answer. After all, you barely knew him. He could get up at any moment and demand that you left, and you wouldn’t have been able to argue. All of this - this looking after you, this roof over your head, this care - felt too good to be true. Like it was all part of some elaborate ruse.

But it was funny, because you were even more scared that it wasn’t. If Din - or The Mandalorian, as you knew him - was truly just a nice person with pure intentions, then that was about to be dangerous territory for you. The minute that you started trusting him, and the minute you started to see him as someone who could protect you, would spell trouble. You had never intended to become attached, but it was only natural. You hadn’t had a single person look out for you - not once in your life.

Every time he made you food, or helped you up into the cockpit, you felt yourself slipping that way. A six-foot pile of beskar should not have been a sign of comfort, but the helmet came to symbolise...something. You didn’t know what. Attachment, maybe? A little inkling of affection for whoever the hell was below those inches of steel?

A few weeks passed and the tension slowly began to falter. It was probably the proximity more than anything, but the time proved to you more than anything that Din was genuine. He was helping you because he wanted to - there was no personal gain for him, nor monetary. He actually, honestly just wanted to do good.

And doing good, he was. Whilst he still kept his distance, he looked after you. He made sure that you ate enough to recover from your periods of deprivation and once a day, he would clear out of the cockpit for you to get some rest. He still helped you up the ladder every time -and even when you told him you were strong enough, he still stood back and watched just to make sure.

Because, truthfully, The Mandalorian was beginning to see something in you. He couldn’t quite put his finger on what, but he was intrigued by the way you were slowly beginning to show him parts of yourself. Where your eyes had once been gaunt and lifeless, they now had a spark in them. You were quiet when you’d met, but now you spoke to the kid and you hummed to yourself. It was like the life that was sucked out of you was slowly being breathed back in, day by day and bit by bit.

“Do you wanna get some sleep?” Din asked you one day.

“Yeah, sure,” you glanced up at the Child, giving him a small smile. “When did you last sleep, Mando?”

Another helmet tilt. “I get enough sleep.”

“I don’t believe you,” you thinned your eyes at him.

The Mandalorian sighed slightly - normally, that would have been a sign to literally anyone else to drop it. But with you? Nope. You saw that as a sign of progress; that the little, tiny display of emotion meant you were beginning to chip past those godforsaken layers of beskar.

“I get nightmares about Durant,” you continued. “Every time I panic and wake up in a cold sweat, I remind myself that I’m safe, because I know that you and the kid are here.”

“You do?”

“Yeah,” you admitted. “You can tell me anything and I promise I won’t judge you. You’ve never judged me.”

He pondered for a moment, before releasing another deep breath. “I can’t sleep alone.”

“Really?”

“Last time I did, I woke up and my parents were gone,” Din explained. “So I wait til the kid wants to go to sleep and I just go with him, so that I’m not alone.”

Your heart dropped a little at that - partially because he’d opened up to you, but also because the Child rarely ever slept. If Din only ever waited around for their exhaustion to coincide, it must have been months since he’d last got a decent night’s rest. It was the least he deserved.

Nodding, you stuck your hand out towards him. “C’mon.”

“What?”

“I’m gonna sleep and so are you,” you replied. “You need it and if I’ve done everything that you’ve instructed so far, I think I should have the same in return.”

Din didn’t want to admit it to himself at first.

It being multiple things: the fact you were helping him, the fact your presence on his ship had made the place seem better, the fact that his heart skipped a beat every time you brushed past him.

Bar his surrogate son, Din had never been close with anyone before. He’d never even slept in the same goddamn room as anyone else, even. That was a fucking mammoth step for him, but when you took his hand? It felt like a baby step. Just a tiny hop from A to B. Not a massive milestone, or a moment of personal progress. You had made it seem so simple.

Maybe that was it.

You never over-complicated anything. Your intentions were always clear and simple - there was no moral ambiguity, no moments where Din had to question whether or not he could well and truly trust you. He just knew. It was funny, because it was the exact same situation you’d had with him - questioning why he was helping you, trying to work out what he wanted. This whole time, Din had been helping you solely because he thought it was the right thing and it’s what you were doing for him too.

Din liked when you sat close to him. There was a little wave of warmth he felt every time you shuffled a bit nearer to him when you both crashed on the floor of the cockpit, and a tiny swarm of butterflies that flew through him when you stuck by his side in busy towns and cities. It was clear that you found comfort in him after so many years of going without it.

In turn, he found comfort in you. Not just in the way you unintentionally looked after him, but just...everything. Your presence had been a little odd on the Crest at first, but now it felt weird to be without it. Hearing you single quietly in the shower and have one-sided conversations with the Child filled a hole in his life that he hadn’t even realised had been there.

It was as though he’d had a missing puzzle piece his entire life; a gap between all the interconnected parts that hadn’t been integral, but certainly inconvenient. And now that it was filled, he could take a step back and finally look at the bigger picture that had been forming. All the pieces were finally there - you and the kid and whatever odd family unit that made you - and the galaxy didn’t seem so nonsensical anymore.

A little over two months after he first found you, word got around that Durant had finally been captured. Not by Din, but that hadn’t mattered - because killing the man who had hurt you, even after everything, would never amount to everything he’d done for you.

The relief didn’t last long for you, though - because as soon as you realised you no longer had a reason to hide, it dawned on you that you no longer had a reason to stay with Din. Or, at least not one you were willing to share with Din. Begging to let you stay just for the sake of being near him didn’t seem like a very convincing argument - at least not from where you were standing.

But from where Din was standing, it was a little different. You were part of his life now, even if you had no idea. That wasn’t your fault, though. He wasn’t exactly the best at vocalising it. Admitting it to himself had been hard enough, let alone to you.

“So,” you spoke softly, clearing your throat. “I suppose you’ll drop me off at the next planet?”

You were both sitting in the cock-pit; the Child was asleep downstairs and the Crest was soaring through the last stretch of hyperspace before Nevarro.

Din didn’t want to drop you off. He didn’t want his ship to be silent all over again or to sleep without you by his side. The thought alone of not having you around anymore was enough to make him a little watery-eyed beneath his beskar barrier. You’d grown on him, and in return, he’d kind of, accidentally fallen in love with you.

“You don’t have to go,” he said.

You peered over at him. “If you can think of a reason for me to stay aboard, please do let me know.”

“I want you to stay,” Din replied. He gently reached out a hand and took it in his - it was the first time that he’d given you such a vast gesture. “Isn’t that reason enough?”

“Yeah,” you smiled. “It is.”

Staying aboard the Razor Crest was one of the best decisions you’d ever made.

Not only because it meant you were well and truly safe, but because Din’s direct request was a sign to you that you weren’t imagining things. Whatever attachment you felt to him, he felt it too - but it ran deeper than that. There was a mutual concern and respect for one another. Something born of two lifetimes spent on their own, finally coming together in one.

Things had been a little slow before then; the way that you danced around each other, like two magnets that were meant to come together - just with a little hesitancy. There had been a lot of late nights and long trains of thought about the signals that the other was giving off; about whether you’d misinterpreted the way his hands lingered over yours, or the way you’d practically passed out on his shoulder.

But, after that - after Din had openly asked you to stay, and you’d happily agreed, things began to move a little faster. Where you’d once been slowly walking down that hill and towards each other, you were now slipping, tripping and falling.

With each passing night, you inched closer towards each other. God forbid you ever found out, but Din even found himself pushing the pilot’s chairs closer to each other when you weren’t in the room, just so he could properly feel you next to him when you dozed off. He enjoyed your presence at the best of times but it was those dark, quiet moments when he genuinely and fully needed you.

It came to a head one night when you’d laid down with the Child beside you - not upstairs in the cockpit, but in the tiny cot in the hull of the ship.

There wasn’t room for one person, let alone one person and a tiny creature. Even worse, for two people - one in a beskar suit - and the creature. It just didn’t work. It shouldn’t have worked.

But where there’s a will, there’s a way, and the moment that Din saw you dead to the world with the Child in your arms, he was certain that he was going to make it work. Maybe with a bit of reshuffling there, and if he just moved the kid here - and that was when Grogu bit him pretty hard on the finger.

Disregarding his reshuffling plan, he knew there was only one option left.

It was something he’d never dreamt of doing before, simply for how terrifying and exposing it was - but he took one glance at you, and once glance at his kid, and he knew it was going to be worth it in the long run. It was merely a necessary step to getting closer to you - physically, mentally emotionally.

You stirred slightly at the sound of metal clattering to the floor - not enough to wake up, but enough to be a little more aware of the room around you. A moment later, there was a quiet hiss, and then everything went black.

In your sleepy state, your brain reacted a little slowly - but then the mattress beneath you dipped, and you felt someone’s skin against yours. Not just skin, but stubble against the back of your head as he pressed a kiss to it, and warm fingers tangling with yours.

“The armour,” you murmured. “You took it off.”

“It was the only way,” he softly replied. “It’s okay. Go back to sleep.”

“Okay,” you let out a sleepy hum. “Good night…”

“Din,” he quietly said.

“Good night, Din.”

#din djarin x reader #din djarin reader insert #din djarin imagine #din djarin imagines #din djarin x you #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian reader insert #mandalorian imagines #star wars reader insert #star wars fan fiction #star wars x you #star wars imagines

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alpineglowx · 3 years

Text

Proposition | Din Djarin x Reader

Pairing: Din Djarin x Reader

Wordcount: 3K

Warnings: None except some sweet fluff and mutual pining!

Summary: You've been pining after the Mandalorian for months, and a quiet night under the stars might just be the night that changes everything.

Part 2: Placid

Part 3: Promise

***

“Where have you been?”

Glancing up, you could see the Mandalorian’s visor looking out at you from the opening of the Razor Crest. You blinked steadily, coming to a complete halt at the bottom of the drop ramp, unable to move any further. He watched you carefully, unmoving as even Grogu waddled to the edge of the ramp. The kid’s ears twitched as he caught sight of you, and you could even hear his soft murmurs from this far off.

Seeing them in the fading sunlight, safe and sound in the place that you had begun to call home the past few months, made tears well in your eyes. The Mandalorian had hired you as more of a mechanic-caretaker for the kid-scavenger for the better part of several months, but you couldn’t help the pull of being close to him. Mando was more of a compassionate soul then you had thought when you had first seen him on Coruscant, a hulking piece of metal with weapons at every reach. He had almost frightened you then, with his immense height and great reputation.... Until you had seen the kid. The little child that Mando seemed to adore so greatly, the one with floppy green ears and wide, beaming eyes. Mando always held him with such gentleness, the same gentleness that you sometimes found yourself being shown. It may have been a small comment of praise on your work, or a passing touch of the shoulder... Regardless, it had made the walls around your heart start to crumble and fade away, revealing a new affection for them both underneath.

But you hadn’t tried to relish in it, or take it too seriously. He probably only needed your work for a little while longer, and especially after he returned the kid and completed his mission, he wouldn’t need your assistance any more. You would go your separate ways... And he would forget you.

“Hey,” his soft voice came again, tearing you from your thoughts. You blinked, focusing on Mando. “You alright?”

Breathing deeply, you shrugged one shoulder, trying to blink away your tears. “Yeah, I’m fine. I, uh... I went into town to see if there was anything I could trade. I got some fruit... That was about it.”

“Good,” was all the Mandalorian said. “Come on. We’ve got to keep moving.”

You took a deep breath again, looking out into the ocean of trees and the sunset fading around you. You longed to spend more than a few hours or days on one planet, especially one as beautiful as this.

So, plucking up your courage, you turned to him and the kid, waiting for you on the Crest.

“I have a proposition.”

The Mandalorian settled one hand on his belt, shifting to rest his weight on one leg. “Alright.”

“Let’s stay here, just for one more night,” you said. “I’ll build the fire, and get the supplies, and everything. You can even sleep on the ship with the kid, I don’t mind.”

“... what are you proposing?” The Mandalorian asked, sounding mildly curious.

“I’ve always wanted to sleep under the stars... Even if just for one night.”

“Alright,” came Mando’s surprisingly fast response, making your heart beam with joy.

. . . .

“See that one? I think it looks like a womp-rat, what do you think, kid?”

You peeked at Grogu from where he was leaned against your shoulder, curled in the crook of your arm as you leaned against your pack, warm on the blanket you had spread out in the tall grass. Mando sat a few feet from you, one leg outstretched and the other bent at the knee, his arm hanging over it loosely. He looked more relaxed than you had ever seen him; he had even removed the jetpack and the cape.

You couldn’t deny your attraction to him, despite never having seen his face. He carried himself with such confidence, with his broad shoulders and slim waist and form that could easily crush you. He could have killed you, easily... You had seen others die by his hands before.

But he had never been anything else but gentle with you. Not the typical warm, motherly-kind of gentle, but a compassion and attentiveness that existed beyond just words. It was wordlessly offering you a blanket when you shivered, letting you have a spare blaster, or simply handing the kid off to you during times spent on the Crest.

Grogu cooed softly beside you, and you peeked to see his eyelids drooping.

“Oh,” you whispered. “Are you sleepy, buddy? You ready for bed?”

At his soft murmur, you gathered him up in a small blanket, gently rising on your knees and tucking him away in the pram that lay next to the blanket. Grogu held tightly to your thumb, resisting your pulling, so you let him hold it until you had pressed him snug into the pram, bundled up in the mass of blankets until the softness screw him away. As soon as his eyes fell, you smiled, gazing down at the kid whom you had come to adore so greatly.

You hadn’t even realized Mando had been watching you until you turned, going back to your original position but spotting the gaze of the visor locked on your face. You flinched, surprised to see him so eagerly staring back at you, not even moving when he realized you had caught him. In the silence, you shut the pram closed and placed your hands back in your lap, swallowing heavily. Mando’s gaze still didn’t waver, and you couldn’t help but admire the soft starlight beaming like silver on his Beskar.

“You’re smiling,” he said suddenly, his voice soft but cutting off your train of daydreams. You shook your head a bit, just to clear your throat and sit back down again, leaning against your pack. You stared at the stars again, trying to calm your thundering heartbeat. You couldn’t admit - although you desperately wanted to - that you were smiling because of him. It was all too much. He was too much, with all his hidden expressions under the mask and the not-so-cocky attitude he possessed most of the time.

“The kid likes you.”

You cocked a brow in his direction, slightly disappointed to see that he was facing away again, back towards the tree line.

“He’s not too bad,” you replied, smirking. “I like him, too.”

The Mandalorian’s shoulders lifted, just the smallest but, signifying the small laugh he would sometimes give in your presence. It made your stomach flip when he did that, knowing you had been the one to make him feel that way.

“Why were you smiling earlier?” He asked, making your stomach plummet.

You could feel your mouth go dry even before your lips had opened, but suddenly the words came tumbling out - and your mind was going a hundred parsecs per second - urging you on and on until you finally...

“You were looking at me, and I-I don’t know, you make me nervous sometimes, okay? Not like the, ‘oh, I’m so scared that you’re going to kill me’ kind of nervous... like you look at me and you’re all that I see and whatever’s going on just kind of fades into the background. And I feel like you’re the first and only person in this whole galaxy to actually see me, as I really am, and you don’t kick me out or push me away. You’ve let me stay on, and I could never thank you enough.”

You finally stopped speaking, folding your hands over your stomach as you dared not another look in Mando’s direction. You only stared at the stars, practically in awe of yourself and everything that you had revealed. You very well might have told him that you loved him.

He stayed silent for a long time, maybe five minutes, maybe more.

“... You’ve been more than a loyal asset,” he said simply, his voice soft.

You expected him to say more, but he stayed silent, letting you mull over his words.

“I’d like you to be more,” he said in a quiet voice. “If you want that.”

You blinked, your heart soaring at his words. Yes, yes, yes, a million times yes. You make me feel safe and wanted and I want to be with you too and help you feel safe -“

“I’d like that,” was all you managed to say without throwing up from nerves.

Suddenly he did move; you heard the shuffle of the blanket and the clank of metal as he shifted. Your gaze flickered for one moment, catching the gleam of Beskar in starlight as he suddenly hovered over you. Your heart pounded - so loud in your chest you swore he could hear it - as the masked man looked down at you, incredibly close. But he didn’t move, his hands didn’t even twitch as he simply gazed down at you... Admiring you?

Your lips parted to speak, but his hand shot up, his gloved thumb caressing the front of your hairline. You shuddered, blinking fast as the back of his knuckle moved down your face. It slid down from your temple, over your cheekbone, and past your jaw in one smooth take. You couldn’t help it - your hands shot upwards, holding your palms flat against the indents in his helmet. Mando flinched, going to grasp your wrists as quick as he could, but the grasp wasn’t tight, just secure, keeping you from lifting your hands.

Your face flushed, realizing your mistake. “I-I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to remove it. I-I just wanted to touch you.”

“It’s alright,” Mando said, his fingers sliding softly down your wrists. Moving your hands, he guided them down to his own hands, gently curling his fingers in between yours and holding warmly.

You couldn’t help it, the sudden rush of emotions coming full speed at you from every direction - relief, security, happiness, joy... Love.

“ Ka’ra,” Mando said in the most gentle tone you had ever heard from him. You blinked, focusing back on the helmet and dark T-visor as you felt warmth streaming down your face. You were crying, and he had noticed before you, saying some word in Mando’a you weren’t familiar with.

“I’ve hurt you,” he said, starting to lean back and sit on his knees, withdrawing his hands.

“No-“ you started, sitting up and going to grasp his hands, pulling him back. “You-you didn’t.”

He stared back at you for a long moment. “You’re crying.”

Your lips parted, and your mouth slowly transformed into a smile, and suddenly you were giggling, throwing a hand over your mouth to stifle the laughs and hide how badly you were blushing. Mando just stared back at you, unmoving, tilting his head just once.

“I’m... I’m really happy,” you admitted through tears. “I thought you didn’t like me at all... Not like how I like you.”

His shoulders dropped, and even the helmet sagged a bit on his head. “Can you... Can you close your eyes?”

Your brows shot up at the request, wondering his intentions. But you nodded anyway, shutting your eyes and sitting on your knees, hands in your lap. You fidgeted nervously with the belt loops on your pants, listening for any sound from Mando. He didn’t move for several long moments, but eventually you heard the small shuffle of material being removed, and a sudden warm touch on your face. You flinched, inhaling sharply as his bare hand caressed your face, knuckles moving down your cheek.

“Mando-“ you murmured, worried for him, for the Creed.

“It’s alright,” he assured through the mask, knowing your thoughts by the anxious tone in your voice. His hand was slow, his thumb swiping away your tears but suddenly moving to brush against your bottom lip. You shuddered, wanting to shrink away, but his touch was soft, secure, and you felt like melting into him.

“What’s that word you called me earlier?” You asked as his second hand rose, cupping your cheek.

“Star.”

Love expounded in your heart for him, and before you could stop yourself, you threw your arms around his shoulders, tugging yourself forward right into him. He grunted as you hugged him, squeezing tight into the patches of flightsuit beneath the Beskar. But something was off; you had never hugged him before, but you could feel scratchy patches of hair and warm skin against your cheek. Gasping, you pulled yourself away, throwing a hand over your eyes.

“What are you doing?” You spluttered. “Where’s your helmet? Put-put it back on!”

He laughed, actually laughed, and the undistorted sound of his voice was better than you had ever imagined, deep, raspy, but with twinges of softness as well.

“It’s fine as long as you don’t look,” he said, assuring the nerves in your chest. You slumped, still keeping your hand over your eyes, but you could feel him reaching for your free one.

“Mando?”

“Touch me here,” he said, guiding your hand upwards until your fingertips touched his skin, his cheek. He released your hand, hesitantly letting you follow the softness of his skin, your fingers prickling against what you assumed was stubble. You shifted on your knees slightly, using your other hand to press against his jaw, and when you finally did cup his cheek, holding his face, he shuddered, releasing a heavy breath. His head lolled slightly, and you tightened your arms to hold him, letting him relax in your grasp.

“It’s... Been a long time, hasn’t it?” You asked, not wanting to embarrass him.

“Yes,” was all he said, and his hands were back on your face, brushing over your lips for a second time. You shivered, allowing your hands to rise a little higher, brushing against the soft, wispy hair on his head.

You chuckled under your breath. “I’m glad you have hair.”

“Why?”

“Not really a fan of bald guys, Mando, I’ll be honest.”

He laughed, breathing deeply so you felt him exhale onto your skin. “ Ka’ra?”

“Yes?”

“... Call me Din.”

And suddenly you couldn’t breathe, because soft, slightly chapped lips were pressing hesitantly against yours, and your mind couldn’t function right because his bare face, the face you had been wishing to see for months, was pressed right up against yours - his nose smushed into the apple of your cheek as he cupped your face in his hands, tugging your chin up the slightest bit just to be able to reach you. You could feel wisps of brushing against your forehead, and stubble grinding against your upper lip and chin. Did he have a mustache, or a beard? What color was his hair? Why did he suddenly smell so nice, not just like the wafts of smoke from blaster fire or cold, hard metal?

You couldn’t even respond to the kiss before he pulled away, brushing the bridge of his nose into your cheek as he relaxed against you. He was breathing heavily, hot breath washing over your face like billows of clouds. His hand stayed glued to your face, and you had just realized how tight your fingers were digging into his shoulders. You relaxed your grip, ducking your head and feeling the heat on your face from the sudden kiss.

“ Dank Farrik,” he whispered under his breath. “T-that was bad, I’m sorry.”

You giggled, pressing the crown of your head into his chest. “First time for everyone, right?”

“I guess so.”

Taking a deep breath, you rose again, keeping your eyes closed as your hands rose to his face, mapping his features. He was shaking slightly, sweat forming on the hairline brushing up against his ears. Kriff - he was nervous, shaking like a teenage boy.

Feeling deep sympathy that mirrored your own nervousness, you leaned in close again, running your fingers over the hooked bridge of his nose, the tenseness of his brow, feeling his eyelashes tickle your knuckles. You ran your hand over his hair once, trying to calm him, lightly running your fingers through his hair. His whole body shuddered and moved forward, one hand sliding up to grasp your shoulder firmly.

“Din,” you whispered, remembering his name. You heard his sharp intake of breath, the tremor that wracked his back as you held onto him. You tried to smile, but tears only built in your eyes again, and after you had moved to wipe them away, you cupped Din’s face.

“ Din.”

Swiping a finger over his lips, trying to figure out where to kiss him, Din whispered back, “Keep saying that and I may just have to extend your lease.”

Your heart soared, and you laughed out loud, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek. “Din.” Then to his nose. “Din.” And the corner of his mouth. “ Din.”

He took your jaw with one hand, pulling you forward and back to his mouth. You could kiss him back this time, moving your lips in time with his as his hands found your back, pressing him flat against his chest. Your hands tangled in his hair, fingers digging tight into his scalp to keep him as close as possible to you. He made a small, desperate sound when your hand pressed down flat on the back of his neck, making goosebumps race up your arms. He was everywhere, hands moving down your back and lips leaving you breathless. He was invading all your senses, every dark corner of your mind where fear and doubt had only resided. Din was there instead, sweeping you up into his arms and keeping you close to his heart.

When you pulled away to breathe, both panting against each other’s face, you only allowed yourself four seconds before you kissed him again, surprising him and making him flinch. But he was becoming more and more soft by the second, melting into you. The Mandalorian you had been pining after for months, the one person you could imagine yourself with, was better than you could have ever pictured.

“I wish I could see you,” you murmured when he finally pulled away.

He pressed his forehead against yours. “You will, some day... I promise.”

#the mandalorian #mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin x reader #x reader #grogu #baby yoda #fluff #angst #mutual pining #confessions #first love #soft #pedro pascal

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queenofspades6 · 3 years

Text

More than partners - The Mandalorian x reader

A Home

Chapter 15 of More than partners

Summary: Grogu choses his own way. Obviously, you and the Mandalorian are terrified to be alone again.

Warnings: Smut. A lot of fluff

AN: Helloooo! This is the last chapter of More than Partners until season 3! This chapter is probably the longest, and I hope you’ll all like it since it was written with all my heart! I’ll appreciate it if you like, and share the story and leave feedback please! Thanks to you all!

———

<Chapter 14

———

Here you were in Boba Fett’s ship with Bo-Katan Kryze, Lambda, Cara Dune, Boba himself, Fennec, the Mandalorian and the scientist you captured to bring back the Child.

It was a difficult task to get everyone to agree. Mando wanted to fight the Deathtroopers alone while you would go with Bo-katan and Fennec. Obviously, you didn’t agree, but the bounty hunter had assured you it would be better for you to protect Bo-Katan and Cara and take back the Child after. Being apart from the Mandalorian wasn’t something you liked. You feared it was going to be the last time you would see each other.

While Bo-Katan and Cara were arguing about who would have the chance to capture Moff Gideon first, you and Mando chose to slip away from others.

You were in Boba Fett’s one and only room. It was simple with a cot along the wall, and a small rusty table with some food on it.

“What?”Mando questioned staring at you.

“Nothing.”You answered, smiling at him.

“Tell me what is it Y/N? I know when there is something bothering you.”

You sighed and looked at the ground awkwardly.

“Are you really going there alone? Fighting all these Deathtroopers? Why can’t you just accept my help for once?”You vociferated, hands on your waist.

“I can take care of the Deathtroopers. I want you to be there for Cara if something happens and watch Bo-Katan. There is something off with her. She wants something.”

You nodded and took some steps towards the Mandalorian.

“I agree, but what if the deathstroopers ki-kill you?”

“They won’t, Y/N. They won’t, I promise.”

He approached you and caressed your face with his gloved hand.

“Keep your promises for you if you can’t keep them.”You whispered, a tear running on your cheek.

“I won’t die, Y/N. Not today. If you live, I live.”

With a surprising softness, Mando embraced you with his arms, your head against his chest.

“I’d give anything just to kiss you right now.”You murmured, stroking his neck.

The Mandalorian pulled away from the embrace, turned off the light and locked the door of the room.

“You can.”He replied, taking off his helmet in the twilight.

You didn’t make him wait. In a rapid motion, you took his chin between your fingers and kissed him. The kiss slowly became hungry, each of your tongues fighting for dominance. Din passed a hand through your shirt, and you let him, slowly leaving a trail of kisses from his neck to his clavicle.

“Din, I-“

“Shh, Y/N.”

“Din. Stop. What if someone enters.”You asked, caressing Din’s arm with a finger.

“Let them see.”

“Hmm.”

A hand below your knee, Din brought you closer to his chest. He kissed you on the lips and began to put his lips on your collarbone while kissing lower and lower. Then, he unbuttoned your shirt, his eyes staring at you. The light was closed, and yet, you could distinguish Din’s features. It was pleasant to finally be able to see the color of his eyes or his hair. When Din was staring at your soul with his eyes, you realized that he hadn’t broken his Creed for Grogu or for you, no, he created a new Creed, his own. He followed his Way. Meeting Bo-Katan and then Boba Fett made the Mandalorian become aware that there wasn’t one and only Creed that all the Mandalorian needed to follow. It was a matter of point of view. From now on, Din Djarin knew you and Grogu were part of his Creed. Drowning in your eyes, he knew protecting a Jedi and a Force sensitive child was now the Way.

“Why are you looking at me, Din?”

“You are beautiful, Y/N.”

You grinned and immediately lowered your gaze.

Your shirt still on but unbuttoned, Din fondled one of your breasts, his eyes on you, watching each one of your reaction, ready to stop with only a word. Your eyes closed, and your mouth agape, the Mandalorian took it as an answer to continue. His lips on your nipples, you gasped. His lips were so perfect, you could kiss him forever.

Din began to make his way lower.

“Not so fast, tin can.”You giggled.”You are overdressed.”

The Mandalorian laughed, and you helped him remove his armor, his shirt and then his trousers. He smiled at you with a loving look.

Din took you in his arms and made you sit on the ledge of the cot. Lips intertwined with each other, he kissed your chest, then your stomach, and removed your pants slowly. You felt his hands caressing your inner thighs and then your panties. His touch was so sweet, so pleasant your breathing was getting harder. He left a slow kiss on your panties, and then he removed them, his gaze on you. He began to make his way lower, caressing your inner thighs, and glancing at you sometimes. You could feel his breath against your skin while his fingers worked on you. You let a soft moan escape your mouth when his wet tongue stroked your pussy, closing around your sensitive bundles of nerves. How could you not enjoy that? Here the Mandalorian was, all yours. For tonight, and maybe forever. Din began to lick harder and with more pressure, while your breathing became heavier. You put your hands on his hair, caressing it while writhing from pleasure and moving your hips in order to have that special friction you desperately craved.

“Not so fast.”The Mandalorian whispered softly and grinning.

You sighed.

“Din. Please. I want you. Right now. On this bed.”

He laughed, and you straddled him fiercely. You graze the skin of his face with your fingers, gently moving to his lips, the lips you adored so much. With impatience and frustration, you removed his boxer. You wanted to be the one in control tonight, but Din wouldn’t let you. Not today. One of you may die today. And he wanted you in his own way. The only way he knew.

“Not on the bed, Y/N.”

You gave Din a questioning look, and without waiting, he stood up, and too you in his arms.

“What are you doing, tin can?”You asked, eyebrows raised in wonder.

He pressed you naked against the wall, his toned body against yours. You rolled your hips when you censed his girth pressed against your pussy. The Mandalorian caressed your breasts and your stomach, before reaching your clit with his tender fingers. You gasped, and in a rapid motion, you felt him at your entrance. The heat in the room began rising, and you didn’t care anymore about the noise you and Din would make. The Mandalorian teased you endlessly, and you knew you wouldn’t last long, though each time, you felt yourself coming, he removed his fingers. And when you expected him the least, he buried himself inside of you.

“You are so wet for me, Y/N.”

You held your breath painfully, while Mando began thrusting harder, snapping his hips. You cried out when he massaged your sore clit and arched against his touch. The labored breathing of Din, his skin clinging against yours, his hand on your asscheeks while another was on your waist and the small pain in your thighs. It was too much. You couldn’t hold it any longer. You clenched around him, murmuring his name sweetly like a melody. Hearing you come, the Mandalorian knew he was close. How could he not when someone as beautiful and incredible as you were writhing in pleasure. He thrusts into you shallowly one last time, groaning and pulling out his softening cock. Both of you stayed there, naked against the wall, your breaths being both heavy, his hands holding you from not falling. This moment was one of the most intimate you had with him. Making love was something but sharing this moment with the man you loved after sex was something way better. It meant more. Sex was something you could have everywhere, but this, what you had with the Mandalorian wasn’t a fling, or just desire. It was way more, and Din Djarin knew it. You could see his brown eyes drowning into yours.

“I love you.”He pronounced between two breathings.

You smiled, and as an answer, you took his face with your hands and intertwined your lips with his.

“I love you too.”

You felt a small smile on the corner of his lips.

“Please, Din, don’t leave. Stay with me or let me go with you.”

“Y/N.”He replied, stroking one of your locks of hair and placing it behind your ear.

“Din.”

“I need you with Cara. I don’t trust Bo-Katan. Something is off. I don’t know if she’ll betray us. And you are the most qualified for this job, Y/N. I know if there’s a problem, you’ll handle it.”

“But what about you? I have seen Deathtroopers before, it’s not an easy task to kill them. Let me come with you, it’ll be easier with a Jedi.”

“I can’t let you do that. If you go with me, Cara will be alone with Bo-Katan and her friend. It’s not because Bo-katan and us have a common enemy that we are friends. She could betray us.”Mando mumbled, caressing your neck, and not daring to look at you, because he knew, if he crossed your gaze, he wouldn’t know how to say ‘no’ to you.

A single tear ran down your cheek. How could you say goodbye to the man you learnt to love? What if he died? What could you say to him? It may be your last words to him.

“What if one of us die, there?”You questioned, trying to hold back your tears.

“We won’t.”

“Please, Din. I need sincere replies. Don’t avoid the question. It’s a possibility. Have you seen our plan? There’s no chance, it’ll work and that we’ll all be alive after.”

“Never tell me the odds.”

“But what if it fails? I can’t bear the thought of losing you, or the Child.”

“Don’t you think I haven’t thought of that? The thought you could die out there, alone because of Moff Gideon is intolerable. I can’t lose you, Y/N. When I met you, you were just an annoying Jedi that talked too much and..”

“What changed?”You replied, smirking.

“You are still an annoying Jedi that talks too much.”Mando laughed when you tapped him on the shoulder.”But now, I’ll give my life to save you, Y/N. I’ll sacrifice everything for you if necessary. You and the Child gave me what most people lack today: purpose, and I’ll be forever thankful for that. Y/N. I want nothing more than you and me fighting Deathtroopers, but I can’t. It’s dangerous, and Cara needs you. “

You acquiesced. You knew Mando was right, and you had a bad feeling about Bo-Katan. Yes, she was a Mandalorian, and former member of the Deathwatch, but you knew, she served only her interests and especially what she thought were Mandalore’s interests. You didn’t want your Mandalorian caught up in Mandalore’s issues, and the race for the throne.

”I’ll do it.”You finally declared, obvious sadness in your voice.

“Thank you, Y/N.”

Mando embraced you. You felt your naked and warm skin against his, slowly remembering where you were and especially how bare both your skin was.

“We’ll see each other after, Y/N. I promise you when this is all over, we’ll make our own home. No matter what.”

You nodded, and without thinking, you embraced Din with your arms, pressing him hard against you.

“Come back to me, tin can.”

“I will, Jedi.”

*****

“What were you doing all this time?”Cara questioned when you finally decided to exit the little room with Mando.

You blushed subtly, and stared at the ground, flustered.

“It was strictly professional.”

Cara laughed out loud, making Bo-Katan looking at you suspiciously.

“So professional, your shirt is unbuttoned and there is a hickey on your neck. Mando isn’t as lowkey as I believed him to be after all.”She joked, hands on her hips and her gaze focused on you.

Avoiding everyone’s looks, you sighed. Hopefully, the Mandalorian walked out of the room, and suddenly all the attention was on him.

He tilted his helmet in wonder.

“What?”The bounty hunter questioned with his modulated voice.

“Apparently you had fun, huh?”Cara Dune interrogated him, with a discreet wink.

“What? I was-“

The scientist who was still in the ship glanced at the Mandalorian and declared:

“What she was trying to say is did you enjoy your time with this Jedi here? Oh, and don’t make this face, we all know what you both did there with all the noise and the banging. We aren’t deaf.”

At this precise time, you wanted to slice him. This so-called scientist was first terrified, and now, he felt confident enough to make such nasty comments.

“One more remark, and you’ll end up as mincemeat for the Tibedees.”You threatened the scientist, your lightsaber initiated and ready to kill.

“We need to focus.”Bo-Katan interrupted.”This is not a game.”

“Come on!”You cheered.”We’re gonna kick some ass!”

“It’s been years since I’ve heard someone talk like that.”Bo-Katan proclaimed, remembering the years when she was still part of the Deathwatch.

*****

You were fighting stormtroopers alongside Cara Dune. It was an easy task. You were born to fight, even if deep down, you knew the Force wasn’t something born to let the blood flow.

“Y/N?”Cara asked.”Ready?”

Quickly, you pushed aside your thoughts about the Mandalorian and the Deathtroopers, hoping the man you loved would make it alive.

“More than I’ll ever be.”

Cara nodded, before you abandoned yourself to the fight.

When you finally arrived in the control room, you searched for Moff Gideon, but when you didn’t see him anywhere in the room, you began to panic. You couldn’t breathe anymore. Where was the Child? Where was Gideon? Was Mando falling into a trap? You wanted to scream desperately, but no sound was coming out of your mouth.

“Where is Gideon?”Bo-Katan screamed.”Where is he? He is mine!”

“Well, I believe he is not here.”You replied sarcastically.

“What is he doing! He should’ve been here.”

“We need to relax, Bo-Katan. Screaming would lead nowhere. Moff Gideon isn’t here, and I know where he must be.”You sighed, praying the Universe to spare the man you loved, and the Child you adored as he was yours.

Bo-Katan was trying to calm down and Cara was talking to you, when suddenly you heard a door closing.

“What happened?”Bo-Katan interrogated, eyebrows raised in wonder.

“Mando!”You cried, relieved to see him alive.

“He brought him alive that’s what happened.”Cara declared. And now the New Republic’s gonna have to double the payment.”

“That’s not what she was talking about.”Moff Gideon said, a mischievous smile drawing on the corner of his lips.

Gideon looked at you, grinning, as if he was finally robbing you of your future, everything you dreamed of. Stolen in only a sentence.

“Why don’t you kill him now and take it?”

Bo-Katan eyed the Mandalorian, weighing her options in her head. She wanted the Darksaber more than life itself, and she was ready to kill for it.

You advanced protectively in front of the Mandalorian. If she wanted the Darksaber so badly, she would have to kill you first.

“It’s yours. The Darksaber. It belongs to you.”

Mando examined carefully the lightsaber, and then, he glanced at you, as if the answer was hiding in your eyes, well-hidden in your pupils.

“Now… It belongs to her.”The bounty hunter pronounced, giving the Darksaber to the ex-member of the DeathWatch.

“She can’t take it. It must be won in battle. In order for her to wield the Darksaber again, she would need to defeat you in combat.”

“I yield, it’s yours.”

“Oh no. It doesn’t work that way.’Moff Gideon chuckled.”The Darksaber doesn’t have power. The story does. Without that blade, she’s a pretender of the throne.”

At this moment, you wanted nothing more than to kill everyone and just flee with the Mandalorian and the Child. Where was your happy ending? Where was your “and they lived happily ever after”?

“Come on, just take it.”Mando proclaimed, the Child in his hand.

You thought nothing could have gone worst, until now. Deathtroopers were boarding on the ship. You were a Jedi, you could help kill them, but with your strong attachment to the Mandalorian and the Child, your bond with the Force was sometimes unstable, and you were terrified to end up like Anakin Skywalker. You knew you didn’t want to repeat the past mistakes of all the Jedi before you. Now that you had created your own Way, you needed to master your feelings. It was easy to break the Jedi Code, but to carve your own path into history wasn’t an easy task. When you would fight, you would need to forget about your feelings. You needed to free yourself from guilt.

“They are coming! Seal the doors!”

You heard the Deathstroopers hitting the door.

“We’re gonna be fine, Y/N.”Mando murmured at your side.

“Stay here, little guy.”You whispered to him.

“Ready to fight hand in hand?”You asked Mando.

“A Jedi and a Mandalorian? How ironic.”The bounty hunter chuckled, even if this Jedi was the best thing that had happened in his whole life.

“I sense someone.”You exclaimed.”The Force is strong in him.”

“A Jedi.”Bo-Katan cried.

And then, you saw it. The green lightsaber. You knew who it belongs to. But if he was there, it would mean only one thing. Your life would change forever.

“Be careful!”Fennec screamed.

Moff Gideon tried to shoot at Bo-katan and then, seeing you and the Child unarmed, he shot at you. The Mandalorian jumped in front of you, shielding you and the Child in the process.

“Everything alright?”Mando asked, caressing your face quickly.

You acquiesced and stood up, watching Moff Gideon trying to attempt suicide, until Cara stopped him.

Grogu watched the Jedi advancing towards the door, and whined.

“You trust him Grogu?”You interrogated, feeling a little weary.

He whined again and you knew you and Mando were taking the right decision.

“Open the doors.”

“I said, open the doors.”The Mandalorian commanded, his eyes not leaving you.

The mysterious man took off his hood and entered the room.

“Are you a Jedi?”Mando asked.

”I am.”

“Come one little one.”The stranger said to Grogu, a hand towards him.

You watched Luke Skywalker’s features. He looked alike his father so much. Staring at Luke in front of you broke your heart.

“He doesn’t want to go with you.” Mando said, and you sensed the fear in his tone of losing the Child.

“Mando.”You murmured, taking some steps towards him, and putting your hand on his shoulder in reassurance.

“He wants your permission.”

“He is strong with the Force, but talent without training is nothing.

“I will give my life to protect the Child…”The Mandalorian declared.

“And I’ll give mine too.”You added.

“But he will not be safe until he masters his abilities.”Luke answered, determined.

“Y/N.”Mando whispered, asking your permission silently.

You nodded, your eyes becoming slowly weary.

“Hey, go on. That’s who you belong with. He’s one of your kind. We’ll see you again. I promise.”

The Child cooed and you sensed in the Force a deep sadness. You didn’t know if it was yours or the Grogu’s.

The Mandalorian began to remove his heavy helmet with a determined and precise hand. He wasn’t forced to, but he felt like he needed to. No matter what.

Grogu whined, and stroked Din’s features softly, trying to memorize every single wrinkle.

“Alright, pal. Don’t be afraid.”

You caressed Grogu’s head, a small tear running on one of your cheeks.

“Hey, little guy. It is goodbye, but not adieu. We’ll see each other again. If someday you hear about a Mandalorian and a Jedi, come say hello. You’ll always have a home with us. Always.”

The Child cooed and stroked your cheek. You put him on the floor and stared at Din Djarin. His brown eyes crossed yours, and he smiled sadly. You began to intertwin your fingers with his, and instead of pulling away, he tightened his hold on your hand. You were the only thing keeping him alive now.

You heard beeping and you recognized R2-D2.

“R2, my old friend!”You exclaimed.

R2-D2 began to make circles around you and a lot of beeping.

Luke nodded at Din, and then at you gratefully.

“There’s place for another Jedi on the ship.”Luke announced seriously, staring at you.

The Mandalorian examined you carefully. He was terrified. The Child had left him, and now you would probably do the same. The only thing he wanted was to beg you to stay at his sides, but he couldn’t cage you forever.

“I am sorry, Luke, but I can’t accept. I have found a home here, and I won’t let any Code prevent me from living my Way.”

Luke Skywalker acquiesced, and you squeezed the Mandalorian’s hand harder. He was your home, now, and if he would let you, you would stay at his side forever.

“May the Force be with you.”Luke said as goodbye.

“Always.”You replied.

The Jedi turned around and began to walk towards his ship, leaving you and Din alone for a long time. And maybe forever…

“And what now?”You asked, your tears flowing on your cheeks.

“We keep on living Y/N, together.”

“I don’t know if I can, Din. What if all of this is a mistake? What if I made the wrong decision choosing my Way? What if Grogu’ll die? What about us?”

“Shhh.”

The Mandalorian embraced you with his arms and stroked your back.

“Y/N. I need to tell you something.”

“What is it?”

“Do you know I love you, right?”He put Grogu on the floor, hidden behind a table. You patted his head.

“Huh, yeah. Din, I am scared, what is it?”

He chuckled, removed his helmet and threw it on the floor. “I don’t need that, today.”

“What are you doing?”You laughed.

“Something I should have done days ago.”

The Mandalorian began to kneel before you, and he took out a small pouch from his pocket. He opened it delicately and took out a thin elegant ring.

“Y/N, would you like to marry me, an annoying and grumpy Mandalorian?”

You chuckled, and felt tears threatening to run on your face. Not because of happiness or sadness, but because of too many feelings overflooding you.

You stared at Din Djarin’s face, he was tired, dark circles lodging under his eyes, and he was waiting for your answer nervously.

“I take it as a no?”He murmured.

“Yes! Of course, I want to marry you, tin can!”

You threw yourself on his arms and held him tightly.

“You know, since the first day, I loved your grumpy tone and your groans.”You joked.”I’ll marry you, Din Djarin, only if you’ll have me, an annoying Jedi that talks too much.”

“There is nothing more I’d want than to live my whole life at your sides.”

“I love you, Din. Seriously.”

“Me too. If not, I wouldn’t ask you to marry me.”

You tapped his shoulder playfully.

He pulled away, and gently passed the ring on your finger.

“This ring was made with beskar. With the beskar of my armor. I wanted you to have a part of me, and a part of our beginning and how we met.”

“Thank you. For everything.”

“We’re a clan of two now, and we don’t need Creeds or Code if we have each other.”The Mandalorian said, looking for your hand.

You leaned on, and kissed Din. The Child wasn’t here, and it wasn’t the end. It was only the beginning of your adventures with the Mandalorian.

———

I hope you liked the last chapter of More than Partners! I am waiting for season 3 to continue! Tell me if you want to be tagged or remove from the taglist!

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⬇️Chapter 14⬇️

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starkskypines · 3 years

Note

Hi Kylie! Your prompts look so cool!

How about 19 for any Star Wars characters of your choosing?

Hi KT!!! Thank you for this prompt and sorry it took so long! Also this one is a bit long at 2k words.

19 “we’ll sit and talk the stars down from the sky”: you know that dinluke trope where luke and din enter a political marriage? Yeah.

>>>

There’s a moment, just a moment, where Luke feels the entire weight of Mandalorian armor with a full-size male in it crash into his body. He realizes in that singular moment that he was wrong earlier when he asserted that no Mandalorian was a match for skill in the Force. Because if this Mandalorian was actually fighting him, he would be hard-pressed to recover from a blow like this. And given how much time Mandalorians spend training to counter Jedi fighting techniques, Luke doesn’t think he’d actually be able to win a fight against a fully trained Mandalorian. He’s had limited combat training himself. Just what he learned from Rebellion fighters. He’s skilled with his lightsaber, but Mandalorians are quick to disarm. They know how to defeat a Jedi and Luke hasn’t ever thought about how to defeat a Mandalorian before. Well, perhaps Boba Fett for a second on Tatooine, but he was busy and didn’t have time to realize exactly how skilled the armored man would be had Luke had time to fight him. He’s glad he didn’t because he has a feeling that would be embarrassing. Just like it’s going to be embarrassing when Paz makes him put his words to action. For now though, they’ve got other concerns.

The weight lifts after that moment and Luke is free-falling through the air. The wind rushes across his cheeks, hurting his ears just a bit, and making his eyes water. He closes his eyes and lets himself fall. The Force allows him to be aware of the ground below, the currents of the air, Paz fighting nearby, Din moving beside him. Both of them quiet confidence and brutal efficiency. Din is softer than Paz though, but Luke thinks he’s biased. Din is his husband after all.

Luke lands gracefully on the ground thanks to the Force slowing his fall. He looks back up to the clifftop where Din and Paz are still fighting. He can’t be of much help to them down here, but he doesn’t really think they need his help. Not like that. Sure they need him to strengthen ties to the Republic, but they don’t really need his skills as a Jedi. He’s glad they don’t hate him for that though, not like they used to in the beginning of all this.

But still, Luke isn’t one to sit out of a fight. So he gathers the Force around him and hops his way up the hundred-foot cliff to rejoin the fray.

The fight is over quickly when it’s a bunch of pirates against two Mandalorians and a Jedi.

***

“So, you want to reconsider your position on being able to take me down after seeing me fight?” Paz asks.

They’re cooking food over the campfire. Din claimed that Paz is the best cook, so just let him do it. Luke doesn’t like being unhelpful, but he allows Paz to cook. He was raised on Tatooine so his abilities allow him to make edible food but nothing that really excites the palate.

“I did challenge you.” Luke isn’t going to back down now, even if it means he gets his butt kicked in front of a public crowd. “But yes, I am worried I might lose.”

“Might?” Paz scoffs under the helmet. “Jetii, you will lose.”

“We’ll just have to see won’t we.” Luke smirks, something Leia says makes him look like an infuriating child who’s been listening to Han for too long.

“Sorry about pushing you off the cliff.” Paz shrugs. “Thought you’d live but still, Din says I should’ve warned you first or something.”

“It’s rude to push people off cliffs,” Din says.

“I was fine. It was fun actually. You know we might be able to turn that into something to be used during a fight. If we have to drop in, or fight from ship to ship in mid-air. You’ve got the jetpack, but I’ve got the Force so mid-air fighting could have some interesting possibilities.”

Paz laughs. “You bet we can work on that. You’re sticking around this time right? Didn’t come just to challenge me to a fight?”

“I’ve got time to stay. I can’t get funding to search out Jedi temples and artifacts until next year, so I’ve got a little while to get to know Mandalorian customs.”

“Well, rule one, we don’t take off the helmets,” Paz says although Luke already knows that and scoops out a bowl of stew and hands it to Luke.

“Thank you,” Luke says and stands to go find somewhere else to eat.

He settles down against a rock that overlooks a small clearing in the forest. It’s a fairly rocky world, giant rocks forming cliff faces, and other smaller ones dotting the landscape, a break against the green and brown of the grass fields and forests.

Luke has almost finished his bowl of soup when Din joins him. It’s not unusual for the armored man to seek him out. Usually to discuss something related to politics or culture or Grogu. Now that conversation had almost ruined the marriage. Din said no to training and Luke pushed and well...it had almost come to blows. Luke is a Jedi. He knows how to help Grogu. Sometimes he wishes he could do more, but that’s not his role here. One of the first Force-sensitives he finds and he can’t hardly speak to the child. It’s a good lesson for the future though. The Jedi’s reputation as child-snatchers is pervasive.

Din is quiet as he settles against the rock, his shoulder brushing Luke’s briefly before he pulls away. It’s the most touching Luke ever gets from him. He’s not sure he exactly wants more, but something warmer would be nice. But again, there’s only one point to this marriage, and it’s not Luke’s happiness.

“Why do you want to find Jedi temples?” Din asks.

“I’m a Jedi, and I hardly know anything about our culture. A lot was erased by the Empire. If I’m to train the next generation of knights, then I need to know what kind of people I’m inviting them to become. You can be Force-sensitive without being a Jedi. You can get training without being a Jedi. It’s a choice you have to make. I want to make sure everyone is informed before making that choice.”

“You can train as a Jedi and not be a Jedi?”

It’s not hard for Luke to see who he’s thinking of, but he doesn’t want to break the calm by bringing up Grogu.

“Yes. I’ve trained Leia how to control her powers and how to a do a few other things she was interested in. She doesn’t have the time to really be a Jedi, but she can’t just let her skills die out when they can be useful to her in any career.”

Din is quiet. “Grogu can’t sleep at night. I think it’s something Force-related.” Din pauses, and Luke gives him time to work out the correct words. “Could you–could you help?”

Luke nods and keeps his attention on the trees on the other side of the clearing. “I can try. What makes you think it’s Force-related?”

“Things move.”

Luke nods. “Let me talk to him when we get back, and I’ll see what I can do to help.”

“Not alone.”

“No, not alone. You’d be there of course,” Luke pauses and can’t help but adding, “I’m not trying to separate families. I’m building something different than the old Order.”

“You know you could get anything you wanted if you threatened him.”

Luke turns to Din then. “You think I’d do that?”

Din shrugs.

Luke turns away. He can’t really blame Din for thinking that. Jedi don’t have a good reputation in Mandalorian circles, let alone the son of Darth Vader. Clearly he can’t be trusted. The minute that little tidbit came out he and Leia lost a lot of standing in the New Republic. He’d convinced Leia to spin it so that it looked like Luke was the one more like Vader. The black clothes, the lightsaber, the fact that Luke had spent time alone with Vader and the Emperor on the second Death Star. It took the heat off Leia enough that she could make headway in the Senate, but the rumors and distrust still haunted them both.

“Maybe not, but if the New Republic asked you to.”

Luke wants to laugh at the absurdity, but here he is married to a Mandalorian because the New Republic asked him. It’s not his fault he was the only one that knew the Mandalor and his son. The seeing stone worked, but Din had changed his mind by the time Luke responded to the call.

“Well, I’m not in the business of betraying my husband,” Luke finally responds.

It’s silent as the insects begin to chirp, their symphony drowning out the silence. Luke should be the one to head back to camp, but he always feels the way Paz and Din don’t want him there. He aches for the day he can make a place of his own where he is wanted. Not even as a friend. He has Han and Leia and Chewie for that. But maybe as a leader, or just someone helpful, just someone that can be trusted.

“I don’t remember much about my parents,” Din starts suddenly, “Hardly anything in fact. But I remember when Mom and Dad fought she’d turn to him and say, ‘no, we’ll sit and talk the stars down from the sky.’ It was her way of ending the argument. I didn’t get it at the time, but it stuck with me. I think it means that when you lay all your cards on the table, there’s no more secrets or hidden motives that can cause arguments.”

Luke tilts his head a bit to look toward Din’s visor. He can’t make out the lines well in the darkness, but he knows Din is looking at him too.

“I can’t trust you, because I can’t trust anybody.”

“That’s a lonely way to live.”

“It’s not good for Grogu. I’m too protective, but I can’t–I can’t lose him.” Din nods once, as if coming to his own conclusion. “If he could defend himself–using the Force–”

Luke waits and Din doesn’t continue. Luke takes a risk and places his hand on Din’s arm. Din flinches but resettles.

“It will take time for you to trust me. I know. But I am willing to sit and talk the stars down from the sky as long as it takes for you to trust me. For no other reason than I think you’re right about Grogu needing to be able to protect himself, and I don’t like the air of loneliness that I get from both of you.”

Din puts his hand over Luke’s.

“Ask me anything. I’m an open book.”

Din shakes his head, the silver metal catching the reflection of moonlight from the rising moon. “You aren’t. You just like people to think you are.”

Luke can’t deny that, but he’s surprised that Din picked up on it.

“So why do you do that?”

Luke settles back against the rock. He goes to pull his hand away but Din holds on, and it doesn’t take much for Luke to intertwine his fingers through Din’s and open his mouth. He doesn’t think Din realizes just how much power he has over Luke in this moment because Din doesn’t know how much Luke wants Din to like him. He wants to be his friend and confidante and sometimes–like now–he wants permission to hold Din’s hand in the moonlight as the insects create a symphony that drowns out the fear that comes with opening up. Or maybe that’s just Din’s presence. The simple way he listens without judgment. The fact that Luke can sense his emotions if they spike, but otherwise he doesn’t really know what’s going on behind the mask, so Luke can pretend that it’s a soft smile and warm eyes as he tells truths very few are privy to.

#prompt fill #dinluke #this might be one of my favorite things i've written #skydalorian #luke skywalker #din djarin #dinluke fic #skydalorian fic #the mandalorian #paz viszla

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bratdjarin · 3 years

Text

For if I am not yours, what am I?

Summary: Family has always been important to The Mandalorian, he needed to have something to cling to and call his own after everything he once possessed had been taken away. Watching him grow increasingly tender with his little stolen green asset had only left you with thoughts on what it would be like if you were to give him a child of his own, little did you know how unlikely that was to ever happen.

Warnings: Discussion of infertility and sex.

A/N: After reading so much smut involving Mando with a breeding kink, the only reasonable place my brain could go afterwards was straight to wondering what would happen if you were, in fact, unable to bare his child like you both wished? If you’re brave enough, I highly suggest going and listening to Mitski’s song “Wife” as that is where I got the inspiration for this fic.

Din stood outside the lavatory with his hands balled up into tight fists, a tenseness had settled in his shoulders from the second he had watched you enter and they had shown no sign of easing since. Across from him, Grogu sat within his makeshift bed, chubby green hands entertaining themselves with a small bundle of charms you had picked up at a market on the last planet you’d stopped off at.

It hadn’t been long at all since he had returned with something small and green bundled up in his arms and yet Din couldn’t imagine the ship without the sound of babbling and cooing. It would be as hard to imagine it without you, the smallest things seemed so necessary, like you leaving the shower setting on hot when he preferred them as cold as possible, or finding crumbs in bed from late night snacks when you thought he was asleep. They had become so ingrained with his image of the Razor Crest that if you were to leave it would be like tearing out circuits or dismantling the wings.

He knew it had been only mere minutes since you had entered the lavatory with the test in hand but each second felt like an eternity, it felt like a knife to the gut to simply know there was something you knew that he didn’t. It sounded possessive but when he had showed you everything there was to him, every part he’d sworn to keep secret or at least die trying, he couldn’t stomach the thought of there being something you didn’t share together.

Maybe it was possessive, would that be so wrong?

Grogu cooed absentmindedly and Din tilted his helmet towards him, watching as the kid brought one of the charms up to his mouth to chew on. The noise would have bothered him once upon a time, the ship had never been silent per say but it was quiet enough to have any new sound feel intrusive.

When he’d first offered you a ride after being caught in the crossfire of a bounty collection gone wrong, he was almost certain he would kick you off in a matter of hours as a result of the increase of noise you brought along. Eventually though, after being thrown off course and into a detour of massive proportion, he got used to the noise of having you around, even grew to miss it when he did finally get you to where you were initially going. Sure, the separation only lasted a few hours before he was storming off to insist you come back, offering good pay to look after the ship while he went out on his collections but even with that clunky helmet covering what you felt in your gut to be a pretty face, you knew his true intentions.

That was many cycles ago, so much had happened since then that there simply wasn’t time to stand and ponder over it all. However, Din always allowed for a moment in every day to think back to the time he first had you in his bed, more specifically the morning after when he’d awoken to the sight of you curled up beside him, hand warm on his belly and your head tucked neatly beneath the sharp edge of his helmet. Months of tension had finally been cut and instead of the shame and regret which he thought for certain you’d feel after bedding a man you knew so little about, he found you by his side looking more peaceful than ever witnessed before.

The lock on the lavatory door turned and Din’s head whipped around to face it. He didn’t know what to expect upon your exit, he had been hoping for at least a smile, but he recognized melancholy faster than anything else. A sickness twisted in his stomach and if it were not for the heavy helmet keeping him covered, you would have witnessed how his eyes softened with woe.

He watched as you extended the pregnancy test out which he took slowly, the tips of his orange gloves brushing against your skin and he noted the slight tremble in your hand. Maybe this was all a mistake, it wasn’t right that you once again be placed into a position of failure because of something he craved so deeply.

It was not the first time that you had found yourselves together in this predicament. It had been your idea originally, a wish you’d kept a secret from the moment Din softened himself around you. It sometimes still amazed you how that Beskar hid a man capable of such warm laughter and gentle touches. Falling for him wasn’t an immediate thing, truthfully you found the man a pretentious bother to begin with but somewhere along the way, maybe when you first heard him speak to the kid with such tenderness, you found an affection for him that hadn’t faltered since.

You could recall with complete ease the first night he fucked you. He wasn’t gentle per say but there had been a hesitation in his hands, as though he had never had the chance to touch someone without the intent to harm. The weight of his body on top of you was welcomed with no qualms, there was little he could do which would have made you want him to leave, especially when slid that beautiful cock inside of you as though he had been made to fit there.

With your naked skin pressed to the cold metal of his amour and his spunk warm between your legs, never had you felt so content before, so incredibly safe. As you had drifted off to sleep that night, your mind wandered to how Din’s hand had settled down on your stomach as he fucked you, those thick fingers kneading at your soft belly in admiration and you wondered how tenderly he’d touch you there if it there was his child there inside.

Din ran his thumb over the test, rubbing across the negative sign flashing with an obnoxious red light. Despite having shared his face with you before, while on the ship he still wore his helmet the majority of the time, you knew it to be a thing of comfort for him and while perfectly content to see him whenever he gave you the chance, all you wanted right then was to know how he was feeling. His gaze remained pointed down at the test when you spoke up, your voice raspy yet quiet in fear of breaking.

“We can try again.” Since the third time hadn’t been any luckier than before, you concluded that some of that luck must be carried onto the next attempts. That had to be the case, the alternative would be to admit that it was unlikely that you were to ever get a positive and that was a defeat you could not handle.

Silence, that was all Din gave you in return. He continued to stare down at the test, caressing it with a gentle touch which couldn’t have been any further than what you wanted to do to it; throw it out into the dark realms of space, stomp on it till the floor was littered with crushed plastic and a smashed light, flush it down the toilet and pretend like none of it ever happened? All were good options and way better than Din’s decision to stroke the thing like it was something precious.

Grogu babbled something behind you and the sound made your eyes begin to water. It was your fault, you had let yourself think about having a little one around alongside him, convinced yourself that this would be the time you’d witness your kids taking naps together and waddling after their father, pulling at his cape when they wanted attention. You’d promised together that the time you got pregnant would be the time Din found you somewhere to settle down together, a planet warm and green, with pretty scenery and lots of space for the children to play.

That was what you needed, somewhere far away, somewhere Din could take off his helmet in the privacy of his home and not fear there was someone lurking outside waiting to strike.

“I don’t think it’s meant to be.” Din said after a long moment of consideration. His voice was soft, more so than you think you’d ever heard it before. For a second you thought he was going to hand the test back over to you but then he thought better of it, instead slipping it into one of the many pockets on his amour.

It was not a game of fault or blame but Din couldn’t help but think if this was in fact a problem of his own creating, maybe he was the one who was unable to provide you with a child. Although he stood tall, thinking he had been the cause of more than even a second of pain for you, let alone months of hope being crushed, it made his knees feel weak. He watched with a tremble in his lip as the tears that had threatened to spill from your eyes finally flooded over, clinging to your lashes as you tried to blink them away.

“I’m sorry.” It was the only thing you could think to say. After everything he had been through, all you had wanted was to give Din something good. You knew if you were to tell him that he’d brush it aside, tell you that he had everything he wanted right in front of him but you’d seen it before, you’d learned to follow his gaze as you walked past families filled with smiles and laughter.

It only took you to blink once before you found yourself being wrapped up tight in Din’s arms, pressed up tight against his Beskar. It wasn’t the most comfortable of positions, not with your cheek squished up against his chest and your arms flush to your side with the suddenness of it all but it was him, being in the same room was comfort enough so a hug was Maker-sent.

“It’s not your fault.” Din’s voice, despite being warped slightly through the modulator of his helmet, was a comfort; it was slightly croaky, however, as though he too was on the verge of crying. Those big hands slid across your back comfortingly, tucking his fingers around your sides and squeezing you tight whenever he felt you let out a shuddered breath. “You did everything right; this isn’t your fault.”

“I wanted to give you a son.” The words escaped your mouth before you could stop them. Most days, it was all you could think about. A little boy, big brown eyes and dark hair, maybe even a dimple like his father had. You’d lay in bed waiting for Din to return home from a collection and pass the time thinking about the two of them playing together, Din’s patient and calm demeanor contrasted by the fiery giggles of your child, of course not helped with Grogu’s mischievous nature.

There was no reply after that, not for a long while and for a moment, you swore you could hear sniffling from above you. Before you could say anything more, Din’s hands slowly retreated from your back and went up towards his helmet. Despite hearing the noise many times before, the clicking of his helmet being released made your stomach clench and you clung tighter to him, to be one of the few to have seen his face was still a thrill you could not get over.

You knew if you wanted, you could look up and see Din’s face, he’d made that perfectly clear by now but not wanting to cause him anymore discomfort, you instead decided to keep your eyes closed. His helmet fell to the floor with a loud clatter that made both you and Grogu jump in surprise. Then, ever so softly, you felt his lips press to the top of your head. It was gentle, might not have even been processed if you weren’t so on edge from the sudden noise.

For all you knew, you stood there together for days straight, Din holding you as you rode the waves of tears that came and went. His hands had returned to the soft expanse of your back, even sliding up your shirt at one point so you could be reminded of his warmth― Din was still there, despite everything, he was still there.

“We can’t do this again.” Din said after a long silence. It was a surprisingly easy decision to come to, he would always prefer you safe and content, having you alone was more than enough and certainly more than he thought he ever deserved. There was no denying that letting go of the promise of watching you swell with something so beautiful would be hard, he too had let himself ponder on all the warmth and happiness to come but it was for the best. Much like how he didn’t want to see you in pain again, Din could not handle another defeat so heavy.

You knew he was right, there were few times he wasn’t, but it didn’t make it any less painful to hear. Rather than reply, you simply held him even tighter, unable to let another thing go. Perhaps you could still go to that planet, find that pretty home in the solitude and allow that love to go fully to each other. You still needed to look after Grogu anyways, poor little green thing was still a child in his own right and needed the both of you around.

It was possible that this wasn’t the loss of something but the start of something new, something better. It didn’t feel like it right then but maybe one day it would. Until then, you knew you had Din and Grogu to make things feel complete.

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin imagine #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian imagine #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #din djarin x female reader

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thewriterowl · 3 years

Note

Okay, this might be a weird idea for an AU, but I know you have more creativity than all of us combined.

So, my friend and I thought of an AU where Anakin raised both Leia and Luke alone but on Tatooine because he was never found by Qui Gon and remained a slave (maybe Padme was a slave too and she died)

And one day, when Luke and Leia are older, a certain Mandalorian finds them and helps them.

Perhaps because Grogu felt that they are force sensitive.

Perhaps Anakin knows that he is force sensitive and teaches his children something.

Perhaps Anakin has died in the meantime, leaving Luke and Leia alone.

I only have a soft spot for Anakin struggle to provide a good life for his kids and for Din Djarin saving the day even though he have no idea of what he's doing.

Tatooine-Slave Anakin is very heartbreaking to imagine. He still there and never escaping is horrible. But he does get his family in some way, though it breaks his heart for his twins and the loss of his wife.

Maybe he saves whatever he can and hopes he can find a way to get his twins out of this life. He potentially works close with Peli and she gets the twins. Anakin meets Din once and maybe saves the bounty-hunter and ensures he knows he is owed a debt; when he can, he would get his twins off this planet and to somewhere safe and better. He makes sure the man swears and oath to this.

Later, Anakin does die and the twins are with Peli and now Din has an adopted son and is trying to figure out WTF he is doing. Grogu really loves the twins (but is almost suctioned-cupped to Luke). After some work, Din finally gets them off of Tatooine and takes them to Nevarro. Leia gets picked up by Greef and is amazing at the work. She helps him with his work, is brutal with her politics, picks up all the paperwork with barely a blink. She also brings absolute terror to the bounty hunter guild still residing there. Greef adores her cause she makes his work loads easier and she likes it (and she likes being scary).

Luke is this sweetheart but a bit more quiet and shy than his sister. He is great with the kids though. They love him tons. He is also brilliant with droids and ships. He is a natural engineer and shows to be an incredible pilot.

They are left there for a bit but Din returns a lot and Luke always helps him with Grogu and with his ship. They get very close.

In this AU, Din is able to get rid of the saber and is just now with his son but is feeling like something is missing...he finally asks Luke if he wants to be a permanent part of his crew. Luke agrees instantly. But Din doesn't have to bounty-hunt any more; he has close friends with those on Nevarro and with Boba Fett, the new Hutt on Tatooine and with Kryze, the Mand'alor. He can just have a family if he wants.

But he is still needing to do something so he does jobs for the three locations and brings Luke along. They jump between Tatooine (only for Fett and Peli, Luke has some PTSD on that planet) and Nevarro.

It is a good, easy(ish) life without drama or hurt or anything else!

Din and Luke get married on their own, in the Crest. Leia then smacks them both for not being invited.

#owl inbox #dinluke

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jbbuckybarnes · 3 years

Text

Scared & Sacred - Ch. 6

Pairing: Din Djarin x pregnant!Reader Description: The Mandalorian had helped you while you were hunted for your family name and you had grown a little closer over the months, but you didn’t expect THIS. How was this possible after just three times of getting so close to him. You had to find a nurse as fast as possible. Warnings: pregnancy, fluff, canon typical violence, helmetless Din, emotional wedding, evil Bo-Katan, canon divergent, not proofread

M A S T E R L I S T

Chapter 6 - Mand’alor

*Urgent Message* Din pressed the button to play the transmission. „There is a group of Mandalorians attacking several empire and rebellion outposts. You happen to know them?“ Greef‘s voice asked through the white noise. „How many?“ „Three or four, my sources aren‘t quite sure.“ „Did they see any specific weapons?“ Grumbling he leaned his heat against the back of the pilot‘s seat. „Some kind of sword they said.“ A sigh left the Mandalorian‘s lungs. „Last location?“ „Heading towards Nevarro.“ His face went grim. „I‘m on my way.“ The transmission stopped. „Great.“ He mumbled, „Way to ruin my great day.“

It wasn‘t long until both of you were prepared and in hyperspace en route to Nevarro. There was more info coming through over time. Two female, one male, dark sword, incredibly ruthless, preaching like a Moff and talking about Mandalore and revenge. „Great.“ Din mumbled next to you and aggressively punched the button turning the message off. „So it‘s Bo-Katan.“ „Seems like it.“ „And she seeks revenge.“ „Apparently.“ „And that dark saber seems to hold some relevance to that.“ „I have no clue.“ You heard another sigh from him. „What?“ „It‘s just...I had something else planned today. Specifically today.“ „Oh.“ You pouted and took his gloved hands. „It was supposed to be a surprise for you.“ He went on and put his other hand on top of yours. „Oh?“ You looked up at his visor with those soft eyes that usually made him melt. „Yes, and the whole village was in on it. Why does this crazy lady need to do her saber revenge trip today? I just wanted to have a great celebration of us with some friends. Can‘t even have that.“ You never saw him so emotional about something and your eyes widened. „It‘s alright, Din. Whatever it is surely can wait. I know that I can.“ You gave him a reassuring smile. „Besides, you should put that anger into stopping her.“ He nodded sharply.

„Your people stood with the empire destroying my religion‘s planet. And for that you will pay.“ You heard the yelling from afar. „You and Greef take Koska, I‘ll take her.“ You nodded and you both started running. A big chaos broke out in the city center just seconds later. „You really think you can win against me?“ Koska chuckled towards your defensive stance. „Yes.“ Greef behind her took her guns from her holsters. A series of kicks and throws against Greef ended up with one of her blasters in your hand and one of them back in her hand, holding it against Greefs back.. You heard her talk but didn‘t really listen. Concentration went towards aiming at that spot at her neck that was without armor. You pulled the trigger, hit, aimed for the free hip, pulled the trigger, hit. Standing over her you took her blaster away. „I learned from a bounty hunting Mandalorian. You really think you can win against me?“ You smirked hearing a pained and annoyed grumble.

The saber made an eerie sound against the braces on Din‘s arms. „I can‘t believe one of my own brothers is turning against me. As if our kind hasn‘t been torn apart enough.“ „You are killing innocent people. You are no better than the people during the purge.“ He groaned and pushed against her. „They were complicit.“ „Because not everyone is willing to give their life for change in the galaxy.“ „Weak-minded.“ „Killing them won‘t change the past, Bo!“ „No, but it means it won‘t be repeated.“ „Genocides will never stop happening in this galaxy. But fighting innocent people plants hatred for our kind in the minds of children. Don‘t you think they will be the ones to repeat the purge?“ He growled strained by all the fighting. „No.“ She sounded feral, „And you‘ll die just like them for your betrayal.“ „Not on the day I was supposed to marry.“ He gathered all his strength and she was off-guard for that one milli-second, landing on the floor with the saber falling from her hand. His knee landed on her chest plate, grabbing the saber, lighting it up and holding it against her neck. „I won‘t kill you, if you give me a reason not to.“ He said out of breath. „You have won against me in a fair fight. That weapon is yours now. It makes you the ruler of Mandalore. You despise my views. I don‘t see a reason for you to keep your enemies alive.“ He couldn‘t kill her. He just couldn’t. It didn’t feel like the right thing to do. In the blink of an eye a blastershot whizzed past him into her shoulder, „Traitor.“ „You chose a fierce Queen of Mandalore, Mand‘alor.“ „I know.“ He stood up and nodded at Greef to get the rest done.

„So...do we go to Mandalore now?“ You looked up at him once you were close to the Crest. „If you promise to become my Queen there.“ You could hear his smile. His hand wandered beneath your chin, „Queen Y/N, Clan of Djarin.“ „It would be the greatest honor.“ „Great, cause I had a whole wedding on Sorgan planned today, let‘s make it a two part adventure.“ „You did what?“ „Nothing.“ He innocently answered and opened the Crests ramp, leaving you there with your mouth agape.

About a day later everyone had finally arrived like Din wanted. On Mandalore, with him as the taxi driver, in a palace he didn‘t know, but with support of a not too small group of local Mandalorians that seemed friendly to him.

It‘s not like it was a big crowd. Maybe twenty people total. Some of the people you met on your travels and a couple friends from Sorgan. They had brought all the food they had already prepared, Omera helping you put on the beautiful light blue dress. „You look gorgeous, princess.“ She rubbed your arms and smiled proudly. „I‘m nervous.“ „Nothing to be nervous about. You‘ll marry a man who loves you, around people who support you. Nothing to worry about.“ You took a deep breath in and out, „Alright, I‘m ready.“

The old hymn of your family played as the double doors were opened by Mandalorians and you saw the big room filled with only the essential people. At the end of the aisle you could see Din in his full armor with his back to you. You walked towards him with Omera and Winta right behind you as your support. He had kept the dress stored away until earlier in the day, it fit perfectly. Left and right you could see familiar faces smile. Their last wedding must’ve been a while ago too. The war had made the bigger festivities so rare.

You came to a hold next to your helmeted man, his helmet went to your side and you didn’t have to see or hear him, you saw the positive shock and awestruckness in his body language. You gave a wide excited smile back up at him and the person marrying you both started talking. You only listened with one ear, the other went to the happy noises from Grogu and your eyes were still on the helmet in front of you. “Din Djarin, Ruler of Mandalore, repeat these words after me. Mhi solus tome.” “Mhi solus tome.” “Mhi solus dar’tome” “Mhi solus dar’tome” “Mhi me’dinui an.” “Mhi me’dinui an.” “Mhi ba’juri verde.” “Mhi ba’juri verde.” He had both your hands in his hands and pressed his thumbs into the backs of your hands for a second before the ceremony master turned towards you with Din’s wedding symbols for you. He took the beskar ring off of the black little pillow and held your hand higher and more delicately. A tear dropped down and his eyes beneath the helmet looked up for a second to make sure they were tears of joy before pushing the ring onto your finger. Then he took a necklace, the pendant on it was the same as his clan signet. Gently he put it over your head and around your neck. “Y/N, you are now of the Djarin clan. Honor this signet and what it stands for.” You nodded before pushing some of your tears aside and taking a deep breath. “Y/N, Princess of Karaku, repeat these words after me. Mhi solus tome.” “Mhi solus tome.” “Mhi solus dar’tome” “Mhi solus dar’tome” “Mhi me’dinui an.” “Mhi me’dinui an.” “Mhi ba’juri verde.” “Mhi ba’juri verde.” While the ceremony master turned back to get your things you heard Din chuckle. “Don’t make fun of my accent!” You grinned up at him. The room giggled for a bit and went silent as the ceremony master turned forward again. Din removed his gloves for you to put the ring on him and saw your shakiness, “Breathe.” The ring landed on his finger and both of you looked back up to the man marrying you. “Din Djarin, you are now Prince of Karaku. Honor your new duty and don’t take it lightly.” The room cheered at you both finally being wife and husband, but it wasn’t over yet.

The ceremony master handed you paint and you gave a proud wide smile in return. “The greatest honor for a Mandalorian is to wear his beliefs in beskar and color.” You took the first of the three colors, “Symbolically your partner will now honor this belief with you.” You took the brush and the man spoke, “Blue, represents reliability. This is for your foundling, your bounty hunting and protecting your partner.” You painted the outline of his visor before taking the next color. “White, a color representing a new start. It stands for your marriage, taking on the duties of the Mand’alor and family life.” You painted the indents of his armor’s “cheeks” and grinned before going for the third color. “Red, stands for honoring a parent. You’ll be wearing it to honor your birth parents, your lost clan and to remind yourself of your duties as a father.” You painted it along the middle part on top of the head. The paint was just symbolic and the actual paint would come later, but that red meant a lot to him and you knew it. “Wear these colors with pride and let them remind you of your values.” “Thank you, I’ll wear them with honor.” He nodded and looked back at you. “You may kiss your partner.” The man pointed out. Din’s hands wandered to your cheeks before softly leaning his helmet against your forehead. You had learned that it was called a Keldabe kiss. Your hands slowly wandered from the sides of his helmet to grab around the lower edge. He leaned his head back again and it felt like you could see the smile through the visor. The little hissing sound came as you released the helmet on his head. The room got a little hush hush. Some of them had never seen him without his helmet and still knew him as a strict man of his creed. Watery brown eyes were the first thing you saw and gave a little pout before being pulled closer for a real wedding kiss. Everyone in the room went wild now and you’d lie if you said you both didn’t giggle like children about it while kissing. “Hello Queen Djarin,” he whispered into your ear and landed himself in an attack of little kisses all over his face.

The room had calmed shortly after and everyone was preparing the food they initially had made for yesterday. Din stole you away to another room for a minute. “You look gorgeous. I think I forgot to breathe a couple times.” He kneeled down to kiss your belly, “And my Princess looks amazing too.” “You made me a necklace of your signet.” You gave him doe eyes ones he stood up normally again. “Of course. You’re part of my clan now.” His hand was covering the side of your face and his thumb caressed your cheek. Right until you decided to jump up and attack him with a passionate kiss. “I love you.” He mumbled between kisses. “Love you too.” You got out too. He came up for air and chuckled, “Forgot how much you like me in armor without the helmet on my head.” “So much.” You pouted again. “We need to go back or they’ll steal all the good food before we get there.” His smile was wide. You sighed but nodded in agreement.

You entered the room to Grogu walking all over the table begging for food with his big eyes. And you saw Peli making a beeline towards you, “Hell, if I would’ve known such a handsome face was under that tin bucket, I would’ve went a little easier on you.” She pressed together his face and he looked over to you with his look screaming, *Help! Is this what grandmothers are like for Non-Mandalorians?* “Peli…” She let him go, “Of course, but ya could’ve warned us about that.” “What? The handsome face or the removal of the helmet?” You grinned and winked at her. “Ideally both. Come over, I saved you some of the tukal filled breads.” Truly a bit of a grandma. He sighed as she went to her seat and you giggled, “Be grateful for all the love, cyare.” “I’m really trying, mesh’la. I really am.”

___

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starlightrows · 3 years

Text

Living On A Prayer

Pairing: Din x reader

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: Angst

Summary: Down on your luck, and a bit light of funds you try to find a way to help support your little trio

The last few months have not been kind to your little trio. It seemed like there was something going wrong at every turn. Starting with the Crest blowing out an engine and needing a new blast shield processor. You did your best to help Din make the repairs, but this was beyond both of your skills to fix. And it cost a small fortune to have fixed.

Initially Din had hired you to be a caregiver for his son. He treated you well, and paid you decently. The bunk was yours to use and he kept you well fed for the most part. That was well over a year ago. Not a lot changed in that time, except that he was more comfortable with you around now. He enjoyed your company and loved how well you cared for Grogu.

Not too long after those costly repairs, Din made the difficult decision to take a more dangerous bounty farther out in the outer rim than usual. He felt guilty dragging you and Grogu out that far, but it had to be done. Oh what a mistake that had been. Din came back shaking, bloody and delirious from exhaustion. You had one hell of a time trying to treat his wounds without removing the helmet.

You finally caved and flew the ship to the closest med center you could find, draining your personal store of credits saved up from Din paying you for your work, in order to buy a full dose of extra strength bacta shot.

“What were you thinking?” He snapped later the next day

“I was thinking I would have to haul two corpses back to Nevarro instead of one,” you retorted, holding the baby closer to your chest. You and Din didn’t quarrel often, and certainly not in front of the kid if you could help it.

“It’s bad enough I couldn’t bring him in warm,” Din huffed “We’ll be lucky if we get half the reward money now,”

You were both quiet for a long moment, you stroked Grogu’s soft ear between your fingers.

“I couldn’t just let you die,” you said. He took a long time to answer.

“I know,” he finally replied “thank you,”

Since then, he has gotten a few other jobs. But it’s not enough. Between the repairs, the bacta shot and the low paying finders fees he’s been collecting lately, credits are tight.

You didn’t realize how desperate it was getting until you went to inventory your remaining medical supplies and food. Minimal at best, and with less than a quarter of your usual budget to resupply, your heart sank. You’d had rough patches before where he didn’t make as many credits as usual, and you had no problem dipping into your savings to accommodate that. But now, with all of your money spent to save his skin, you were at a loss.

As you packed away the remaining supplies you did some quick math in your head, if you were careful and rationed out a little more from your portion of what’s left you’d be able to stretch what you still have an extra two rotations. With Din still hunting and Grogu still a growing child, they had to come first.

But two days is hardly enough, you’d have to figure out something else to supplement his unstable income. At least for a little while. For one thing, you knew you had to ask him to stop paying you. You’re just putting the money right back into the family so there’s really no point. You began looking through all of your clothes and possessions. Determining which items you could do without, which were absolutely essential, and what would get you the most credits. Your meager pile of items to sell would not be enough, you already didn’t own many frivolous things to begin with.

You sighed, sitting back on your heels. The sound of little feet coming towards you drew you out of your fog. Grogu toddled up to you, clicking his claws indicating he wanted to be held, you indulged him, scooping him up into your arms and tucking him into your side while you continued going through your possessions.

“I don’t suppose you have any marketable skills or a secret stash of luxury items we can sell?” You asked him. He cooed in response “Yeah, I didn’t think so. Thanks anyway, buddy”

After another couple minutes of agonizing over your choices, you gave up and decided it was time to bring Din into this. Tell him of your plan and see if he had any bright ideas on how you could contribute to resolving this money problem. You hitched Grogu up a little higher on your hip and made your way up to the cockpit. Din sat in the pilots seat, pouring over the galaxy map and muttering to himself under his breath.

“Hey,” you started cooly, setting Grogu down in his pram and easing down into the copilot’s seat “I need to talk to you about something if you’ve got a minute,”

The helmet turns towards you, and he presses a button to close the navigational charts. He’s listening.

“I inventoried the food and medical supplies we have left, there’s only got enough to last us about another 9 days if we stretch it. So I’ve been trying to think of ways to get us some extra credits until things start picking back up,” you explain. He nods in assent, so you continue on.

“I was thinking about selling off some of my clothes and old things I don’t need anymore. That should get us a least a little bit of money. I was also thinking maybe I could start making things to sell when we stop on different planets. I’m a pretty fair seamstress, I could make blankets and reusable bags and sell them at the street markets when we stop,” Din continues nodding along, you hope he’s actually listening to you “Oh and it’ll help if we stop separating our money, it’s all going to the same projects and I-“

“What?” He cuts you off

“What?” You respond in confusion

“I’m not going to stop paying you,” he says frankly

“Din, you can’t afford to keep paying me like this. It doesn’t matter anyway. We’re living on a prayer at this point, and we can’t keep this up. We need to put that money into getting the parts to fix the heating coils so we don’t freeze and making sure the baby has enough to eat” you try your best not to belittle him in your words. Because he really is doing everything he can to provide for you and Grogu.

“That isn’t fair to you. I won’t ask you to stay and work without pay,” you can feel the pain in his voice as he says it. But a bolt of pain and confusion hits you as well. Would he really dismiss you after everything you’d been through and everything you’ve built together.

“It’s not about the money Din. It hasn’t been about the money for a long time. I stay for him. I stay for you... I thought you knew that”

“I— I just... I didn’t want to assume...” he stammers

“Let me spell it out for you, no assumptions necessary. I love you. I’m not going anywhere, money or not. We’re gonna work together to get things back on track.” You reach out for him, and take his gloved hand. “We’ll make it through this, together,”

Din Djarin Tag List: @spideysimpossiblegirl

#star wars #the mandalorian #din djarin #grogu #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader

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guessimwritingficsagain · 3 years

Text

Not-a-Jedi (1/?)

Pairing : Din Djarin x reader

Summary : Since Grogu kept having nightmares about his father, you were sent to reunite them both. But nothing goes according to plan.

Warning : violence, sexy thoughts and yearnings.

Author's note : This was supposed to be a one shot but it's not.

When Master Luke had come to you with Grogu, you hadn’t thought much of it. The kid had been restless, he’d explained, visions of his father plaguing his mind every night.

‘I think he is meant to see him. His father might be in danger. Grogu won’t rest until he can help.’

You were no Jedi, but you could fly a ship, fire a blaster, kill, even, and Luke knew you and trusted you so he’d given you Grogu, and the name Nevarro to start with. Lured by the idea of leaving the little shop you worked at, after years of trying to settle down, live a quiet life, and knowing that grumpy boss of yours would take you back when your mission was over, you’d agreed to take Grogu to his father.

Now, though, with a blaster pointed at your head and a Mandalorian at the other end of it, you weren’t so sure. Screw Luke Skywalker and his sweet smiles.

‘Where did you get the kid ?’

You swallowed, your heartbeat picking up. As you were struggling for an answer, Grogu just cooed and his hands shot up towards the Mandalorian.

Luke hadn’t updated the very Mandalorian father about the whereabouts of his kid, you were slowly understanding. And now there was a blaster, pointed directly to your head - that deserved to be emphasized.

You tried to explain, hating how you were struggling, stumbling on your words like a new-born babe on an uneven sidewalk. When you were done, the Mandalorian stood so still you blessed whatever god you didn’t believe in because death was sure to be quick and painless. But it never came.

Instead, you felt Grogu’s weight being lifted from your arms as you heard the Mandalorian whisper :

‘Miss me, kid ?’

The baby cooed, while a lady you hadn’t noticed at first lowered her rifle, tapped the baby on the forehead.

‘Nice to meet you, Jedi. I’m Cara Dune.’

You shook her offered hand and corrected her :

‘Not a Jedi.’

You gave her your name, but she playfully smiled and answered :

‘Nice to meet you, Not-a-Jedi.’

The Mandalorian had turned away, already walking back into town. Cara motioned you to follow. You looked around as you walked. So much sand. You could feel it slipping in your boots, too. Not a fan of that, you decided. It was hot, and your weapon of choice was heavy against your back. Cara was talking to the Mandalorian, though you couldn’t make up her words. You’d rather trail behind, unsure of what to do next. Luke’s words hadn’t been specific. Stay with them or don’t, but if you don’t, know that a time will come when you need to get Grogu back here. When, though, I don’t know.

You liked Luke, really, but the cryptic wizard bullshit was getting old. You briefly wondered how you had been so fascinated by the whole thing in the first place.

Once you were sat at a table in the local cantina, a drink in front of you, Cara casually asked :

‘So, Not-a-Jedi, how come the Jedi trusted you with the kid ?’

She was leaned back on her chair, legs spears apart, but somehow you could tell she was ready to break you in half. And maybe, she could. You might have had five whole teenage, foolish years of something akin to street-fighting behind you, but she was huge and clearly military-trained. And there was a Mandalorian sitting next to her. You weren’t about to take that chance, not after many years of keeping to yourself, the hard muscles softening with a bit of fat here and there, not with the slight softening of your belly. The street-fighting had been about adrenaline. You’d been too young, too cocooned by parents scared of the world, and you’d wanted out. You’d liked the danger of it, back then, the very idea that one wrong move could leave you with a broken spine turning you on, but never scary enough to dwell on it. You’d felt invincible, back then. Fights had been foreplay to encounters in a dark street, quiet fucks to release a tension you shouldn’t have felt. You’d had a family, a roof. You were privileged, but it was boring. A spoiled brat. You still were, in a way. Spoiled brats don’t fight military-trained huge lady, and they surely don’t fight Mandalorians.

‘The Temple needs supplies. Luke gets them from me - from us. I work at a small shop in a town not far from the Temple.’

She nodded, while the Mandalorian kept quiet, visor trained on the kid who was happily downing his food like you hadn’t fed him since you’d departed.

‘Slow down, kid.’ You muttered without thinking and raised a hand to stop him. The stare of the Mandalorian stilled your movement, though, and you brought your hand back to your own cup.

‘You must be tired’, Cara continued. ‘Long journey ?’

Your hands gripped the cup harder at that, the words out of your mouth before you thought better of it.

‘Can’t tell you that.’

She leaned in.

‘Why not ?’

You swallowed, and met her stare.

‘The Temple’s location is secret. If I tell you how long we’ve been travelling for, that’s a piece of information. I can’t do that.’

‘Not even to the kid’s dad ?’ She quipped back, gesturing the unmoving warrior. There was a slight simmer of tension in the air. They don’t know you, they have every right to be suspicious, you reminded yourself. But you didn’t know them either.

‘He’s not the one asking. I don’t know who you are. This is the kind of information I could give to him, but not with you here.’

‘Yes, you can.’ A modulated voice interrupted. ‘I trust Cara with my life. She was there when the Jedi took the Child.’

It wasn’t so much the sentence itself that moved you, but the way Cara’s body slightly turned towards the kid and his father, the way her face grew grave.

‘A week or so.’ You quietly admitted, after a beat.

The Mandalorian hummed in answer and silence fell over you all. You were starting to feel uncomfortable when he spoke again, his voice harsh and cold as the Beskar he was wearing :

‘You’re gonna spend the day and the night here, but tomorrow morning, you’re both gone. It’s too dangerous.’

That, you hadn’t expected.

‘That’s- That’s not what Luke said-‘

‘If I’m in danger, then you both need to leave as soon as possible.’

———

The kid was screaming. You’d figured it would go down that way, with the Mandalorian intent on having you go back to the Temple. Then, a three-fingered hand landed on your cheek and everything went elsewhere.

The Mandalorian was on the floor of a ship you didn’t recognize, chest heaving up and down, and blood everywhere.

‘Stay with me’, you heard yourself say. ‘Come on, stay with me. I’m here, I’m gonna patch you uo. It’s going to be okay. Grogu- Grogu can do it too.’

When you came to, you were on the floor of your own ship, and Grogu was softly crying in the arms of the Mandalorian.

‘We can’t leave’ you choked, as Cara was helping you up. ‘We can’t leave.’

You took a few steps, and you threw up.

When you woke up, you were in a bed and a doctor was checking your vitals. She probed, and asked too many questions, but couldn’t find a single thing wrong with you. You weren’t about to tell her that a fifty-year-old kid had shown you a vision of yourself trying to save his father, so you let it be.

Instead, you used your best bed-ridden voice to convince the Mandalorian that you both should stay with him because you might just die if the kid pulled that kind of stunt again - and maybe you were right, because Grogu meant well but you felt like that time you’d had one week of sexy times with a nice Zeltron lady. You couldn’t walk properly, and your mind was elsewhere, though this time, the elsewhere was definitely not as nice as it had been back then.

Which is how you ended up on Mando’s ship, the Galactica, strapping up for a journey through memory lane. Apparently, since he was stuck with the two of you, Mando wanted to take the kid back to people who mattered to him.

Next stop : Tatooine.

And the welcome on that planet was something else. You liked Peli the moment you met her, with the way she gave shit to Mando just because she could. She took to you, too, and when, your nerves vibrating with excitement, you asked her where you could see a good fight, she pointed right where you needed to be and added, for good mesure :

‘Keeping the kid will cost you extra, but I can take care of him if you want.’

This was the Mandalorian’s money you were playing with, but you figured that if you bet some and won some, that wouldn’t be an issue. You agreed, and went on your merry way while Mando was out shopping for rations.

Except, when you got there, the thrill of it all got to you. Your skin itched to go up there, on the ring. To knock somebody out. You hadn’t felt that way in years. Maybe it was the thrill of the adventure. Maybe it was the Mandalorian, and his cold front. Maybe it was the Mandalorian, but for other reasons : you were supposed to save his life, you’d seen it. Maybe you could prevent this from ever happening if you went back in there.

No matter the reason, you did it. You watched the winner, raised your hand, and got up.

———

It had been easy. Easier than when you were younger. You’d been stuck on the Galactica for a while, and you’d needed release.

You won, fair and square, and went back to the ship, covered in blood but the weight of the ten thousand credits comforting at your side. You went to pay Peli but her answer surprised you :

‘Did you win ?’

‘Yes.’

‘So you ended that idiot ? The blond one ? I can never remember his name but he’s a pain. So smug.’

‘Yes, I did.’

Peli looked at you, and smiled.

‘Free of charge, then. I hope Mando is smart enough to keep you around.’

Mando himself said nothing about the bruises and the cuts on your body, but he let you heal yourself. You figured, then, he knew you could take care of yourself.

You spent a while with Peli, time passing like a blur, the days almost all the same. Mando didn’t seem in a hurry to see you leave anymore, indulging in the selfish feeling of joy to have the kid back. You kept going back to the cantina to fight. Kept winning, and the grin you wore every time you got back must have intrigued Mando because he came to see you fight, one night.

The moment you spotted him in the crowd both threw you off and cleared your mind to a point of concentration you’d never reached before. You didn’t stop to try and understand the feeling, not with the way you could hear every cheer, not with that visor looking right at you, not with that beast suddenly clawing at your belly with new ferocity. You didn’t stop and understand the feeling, because suddenly you were fighting him. Your faceless opponent became Mando in your mind, and as you threw punches with renewed ferocity, images - fantasies - spilled in your mind, of him taking you in a dark alley, both of you still sweaty and dirty from the fight. Even better was the fact that you knew you could never beat him. Would you yield, though ? Would you get on your knees and beg for mercy ? Or would your pride take over your lust and lead you to fight until he had you pinned down and unable to breathe ?

It was amazing, you’d reflect later, how one’s body could move on pure instinct, before for the rest of that fight, your mind was elsewhere but you were moving with a deadly precision, ready to strike, ready to hurt, ready to win. And win, you did.

He wasn’t in the cantina anymore when you came back in after collecting your winnings. The fire in your belly went out suddenly at that, an empty feeling replacing that burning sensation, your fingers no longer tingling but heavy with ache. Your opponent - you still hadn’t caught his name - offered you a drink you accepted, but drank too fast for it to lead to anything more. The urge to get out of there was only made stronger when the man in front of you asked, innocently enough :

‘You travellin’ with the Mandalorian ? You guys showed up here at the same time and he only ever shows up when you fight.’

So he’d come here before, was your first thought. The second, though, was much more unpleasant : the kid.

You were drawing too much attention to yourself. You left the cantina eager to get to the Battlestar, only to be stopped by an iron grip on your arm. Your reflexes kicked in and you landed a hard punch on - something very hard. The pain was so intense it travelled through your whole body and made you shiver, tears prickling at the corner of your eyes as your body curled onto itself.

‘It’s me.’ You heard, the modulated voice now familiar. And then, as an afterthought : ‘Sorry.’

‘A little warning, next time. That’d be nice.’ You all but wheezed, the pain in your hand burning you whole.

‘Sorry.’ The helmet repeated, even though the hand on you was not easing its grip.

You had some bruises on you, the morning after. A split lip, too, and an almost nasty wound on your left eyebrow. The biggest bruise of all, though, was the one on the hand that had struck the Mandalorian, a huge ugly shape, purple and green and blue. You couldn’t flex your left hand without tears coming to your eyes. You wondered how sick you were, because you couldn’t look at it without being turned on. It was a good thing that you were right-handed, too : you weren’t that incapacitated, and you could also keep touching yourself in a very capable way. Small blessings.

———

That grip thing, Mando squeezing your arm to lead you wherever, that iron grip to stabilize you, became a thing. And you were quickly getting that what he represented, that sense of danger about him, turned you on almost all the fucking time. The rest of the time, well, he was being a very good dad and that-

Fuck.

Let’s just say you had it bad.

You left for Mos Pelgo a week later, after Mando asked you why you didn’t go fighting anymore and you revealed your worries about being too much in the spotlight, and how afraid you were that it could affect the safety of the kid. After that conversation, he set course immediately for your next destination, leaving you just enough time to say goodbye to Peli.

‘Thanks for teaching that boy a lesson.’

You thought back on your first fight and answered, your grin predatory :

‘Oh, him ? He was too cocky, but not that good of a fighter, really.’

Peli laughed.

‘Not that boy. The other one. The one with a bucket on his head. Stubborn ass who won’t think for a second about what is good for him. You got him to relax, enjoy his time with the kid and remember people who care about them.’

You could tell it was a lot for her to admit that she cared about the Mandalorian himself so you just shrugged. You watched as she bid her goodbyes to the kid and his father, before she turned to you and added :

‘Hope I’ll see you again, Korra.’

‘Korra ?’ You asked.

It was her turn to shrug as she explained :

‘A silly story my parents used to tell me. In a galaxy far far away, there was a woman who could manipulate fire, earth, air, and water. But she was also very strong. Kicked everybody’s ass. You remind me of that story.’

It wasn’t until later, on the speeder, that Mando said : ‘Korra, I like that.’ With the wind blowing, you thought you’d imagined it. But then, he started calling you that.

Cobb was friendly, funny, a bit too cocky. A few years back, you would have gone for a man like him. The thought that you could, still, and that he might not be opposed to it was nice but not enticing enough for you to act on it. Still, the two of you fell into a rhythm of harmless banter, and flirting. What could have been fun became a game of pushing and pulling : the Marshal would make you laugh and Mando would just grab your arm, the feeling of his grip now familiar to you, something to ground you, even. You entertained the fantasy, for a moment, that he wanted you the way you wanted him.

And maybe, maybe, you were not wrong.

Here you were, a few days after landing, joking with the Marshal as you felt Mando’s hand grab your arm. Tight, like that time after the fight. That shouldn’t have made you restless but it dit, your knees bouncing with excitement at the idea to take on the Mandalorian himself. So when everybody started to go to bed, he grabbed your arm, again, and led you to the Battlestar. Once you were alone, the kid asleep, he dropped all the Beskar except for the helmet, and whispered, a challenge :

‘Come on, Korra, come at me.’

You did as you were asked, a nice obedient girl even though you were feral. He won, though. Of course he did. Your back was hurting against the floor as one of his hands kept you there, easily. He was looking at you, you felt, above you as one hand tied yours together, and the other on your ribs, right below your heart.

‘Din.’ He said.

Din, you understood, as your mind went back to that fight, that fantasy.

Din, you thought after he let you laying there, chest heaving, while he entered new coordinates.

------

If you want to be tagged just say the word.

#din djarin x reader #pedro pascal #din djarin #din djarin x you #din djarin x female reader

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lordabovehelpme · 3 years

Note

Lordy! I’m in distress after Mandalorian finale! Can you give us your best fluff? Maybe something about starting a family with Din or comforting him or just lots of affection or all of the above??? Idk but I need some Fluff and you’re the best there is🥺💕

Cold- Din Djarin x Reader

A/n: I am too still trying to recover and process what happened!!! But I am so happy to hear from you. And I am honored that you think I’m so good at writing fluff. I hope this lives up to your expectations!

Warnings: Season 2 Finale spoilers, pregnancy

Masterlist

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“Do you think they’re okay?”

Boba Fett turns to look at you, you don't need to see his face to know he is done with your questions.

“I don’t know,” you look down at your hands placed over your swollen stomach, “I just have a bad feeling.” Your husband had practically begged you to stay on the ship with Fett, as you would be “safe.”

“I’m sure they are fine.” Even his voice tells you how annoying you are, he turns back to face the flashing lights of hyperspace as you two fly away to the designated meeting spot.

Subconsciously, your hands rub over your stomach until you find where your child is. On your right side, you can feel the bump of your unborn son's butt. Being able to touch him calms you down, it grounds you.

***

You don’t know why, but your heart sinks when their ship comes into view. “Something isn’t right!” Fett turns towards you and his helmet tilts.

“I have received no distress call, they are fine.”

“No, no no no. Something is wrong.” You stand up from your seat and start pacing around. The powerful thumps of your heartbeat ring throughout your ears and your stomach does flips with nausea. But you know this is not because of your son, it is something more.

When the doors open and the crew walks in you eyes search for your husband. When he walks though, instantly you run into his arms. You feel him rest almost all his weight onto you, he is off about something.

Wrapping your arms around him, you peer over his shoulder, looking for your adopted child. You can only feel your heart sink lower. “Honey, where’s ad’ika?”

Cara throws you a saddened look and she turns away. It's then when you hear the faint sniffle from your husband you heart finally shatters. Fennec walks over and places her hand on top of your own. “Why don’t you both head to the sleeping quarters and rest. You’ll be needing your privacy.”

When she walks over to Cara you turn your head into the crevice between Din’s helmet and his shoulder. “Come on, big boy. Let’s go and you can tell me all about what happened.”

You feel his head slightly nod and as you let go of him, he grabs your hand. Something in your mind yells at you to be strong for him. You don’t know why you need to, but you just have a feeling.

Once the doors are closed behind you two, Din rips his helmet off and falls to his knees. His large palms reach out for you and pull you against him. His head rests on your stomach and his hands clutch your hips, as if he lets go you’ll vanish.

Running your hands through his soft curls, your own eyes well up with tears at the sound of his cry. “He…” The mandalorian hiccups and he moves his head so he can meet your eyes. “A jedi found us and…” Your heart shatters into a billion pieces when you see a tear trail down his cheek. “He’s with his own kind now.”

Closing your eyes, your own tears run down your cheeks. You know you should be happy, but instead you feel like a piece of you is missing.

You feel cold.

***

As Din goes over every event that happened while on that ship, you just stand there and clutch his hair, eyes now puffy with how much you’ve cried. “But we will see him again… right?”

“Of course, cyare. I promised him.” His voice is muffled, as he is pressed against your stomach. You feel a little better now, but it could just be because you’re in shock.

Slowly, you lower yourself onto the ground and into his arms. Tucking yourself away from the world, you breathe in his scent. “I’m so happy you’re okay.”

“Cyar’ika?” He sounds hesitant and you hum, “Promise me you’ll never leave.”

Leaning back to face him, you look into his eyes. Swirls of pain and sadness dance in his orbs.

“Baby, I’ve been yours since the day I met you. Neither I nor this little guy,” you bring his hands to your stomach, “will ever leave you. You’re stuck with us.”

You watch as a small smile forms on his lips, before he smashes them against your own. He cradles the back of your head with one hand, while the other rubs over your stomach.

***

It takes a little over a week for you both to even start to recover. You’ve decided that Din was right, Grogu should be able to continue his abilities with someone who knows about it. It’s just weird without his little hands patting your leg, or his coos of excitement.

You’ve both also prepared more for the son you are about to let loose in the world. Din always has at least one hand on your stomach. Whenever you have to go to the bathroom, you literally have to pry yourself from his hold.

Being pregnant has its perks, such as getting the only sleeping quarters available on the ship while everyone else has to pile up in the hull. And, no one has really said anything mean about it either.

The only thing you can think of is how Cara has a running joke that she would have married you if she knew she would get bed privileges. You always laugh it off with everyone else, but you don't miss the way Din stands a little taller and his hand squeezes you a little tighter.

Tonight, you decided to head in early. Usually everyone will sit around and tell stories of their past adventures, but you just felt so tired. Not wanting to harm your husband's fun, you practically had to lock him out of the room. You know he enjoys the company of these friends, and you don't want to ruin it one bit.

***

You hear the loud booming laughter and cries of embarrassment die down and soon enough, the door opens and closes. The lights had already been turned off, so you can only hear the faint clank of metal on metal when he takes off his armor.

The blanket lifts up from your body and you hiss at the chill. A chuckle falls from his lips and two strong arms wrap themselves around your body, pulling you into a firm chest.

You turn your head to kiss his lips but he turns away. “Hold on, I have some business to discuss.” Your eyebrows knit together in confusion at his statement. He lifts the blanket again and shimmies under them. Having no idea where he is going with this, you just lay there and stare into the dark room.

His hands trace your hips and find purchase at the bottom of the shirt you wore to bed. You call it your shirt, but it's really one of his old tunics. He lifts the shirt and places it over his head.

“Hello, ad’ika. Now we need to discuss the plans for this next month.”

The tone of his voice is so serious you can't help but burst out laughing. Your hands fly to your mouth to try and conceal your sound but you're practically crying now.

Your husband brings his head from under your shirt and lifts the blanket to give you the meanest glare he can. “Excuse me Miss, but this is a serious meeting. You need to calm down and control yourself.” Biting the inside of your cheek, you try as hard as you can to stifle your giggles. Seemiling pleased with this, your husband lets the blankets fall on top of you again and moves back under your shirt.

“Sorry for the noise. I hope that won’t harm our agreement.”

Giggling as hard as you can, you listen to the “serious meeting” Din is having with your son over his arrival time. He even stops and presses his ear to your stomach at times as if he can really hear your son.

Finally after a few minutes, they say their goodbyes and part their ways. Your husband shifts back up to your side and he still has a serious look on his face.

“How was the meeting?” Your voice falters in the middle at how ridiculous the whole situation is.

“Uneventful. Even though we agreed and made lots of points, he is unwilling to give me a set date!” Din huffs.

“How inconsiderate!” Biting back a smile, you trace his jawline and scratch at his scruff. Your heart swells and grows with joy and passion. “I love you.”

His lips meet your own and they move in a slow waltz of adoration. “Hmm.” He bites your bottom lip before pulling back and kissing your forehead. “Love you too, Cyar’ika.” He nuzzles his chin on top of your head and tucks you into his chest.

Your eyelids drift closed and your thoughts fade away into a faint hum. The pound of Din’s heartbeat echoes through your chest and your own seems to match.

Just two souls entwined by love. One more, far away, and another along the way.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Well, there it is. I hope you guys liked it!

Feedback is totally appreciated!

Love, Lordy :)

Masterlist

Taglist: @ficthots @along-the-lines-of-space

#the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #mandalorian x reader #mando #mando x reader #the mandalorian x reader #dincember #jedi jesi

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generalfoolish · 3 years

Text

Mavar

Rating: 18+ (minors take a hike)

Warnings: helmet less!Din

Word count: ~1.8K

Pairing: (eventually!!!) Din Djarin x F!reader

Summary: Two Mandalorians go to the grocery store (restock)

A/N: Hey babes! This is number eight of the #mandomay2021 prompt list. Sorry it's a little late! I definitely hit a bump. It's pretty much all fluff. I will continue be taking Din's helmet off as often as I can, I'm a sucker for that face! Feel free to send me hate for the last few lines! Enjoy 💕

Masterlist | Partaylir | Ori'vod

Let me know if you want to be tagged!

Hyperspace was always cold. An experienced pilot, like yourself, knew that. You were expecting the cold, but what Mando gave you was a freeze. No, not Mando, Djarin or Din? You tucked it away, he hadn’t given you his name yet, and Skywalker had interesting ideas of what a “good” nickname made.

You had hid yourself away in the hull, and that afforded you some reprieve from the tundra in the cockpit. Mando’s helmet was fitted snugly back on his head, and you had just skulked downstairs to wait. The jump to Naboo would be short, and Mando could pilot his ship without your company.

You had scoffed when he had suggested Naboo for the refuel. A Mid Rim planet? For a fuel-up, no less. You had just about bit through your tongue, when he punched the coordinates in. Whatever, you had told yourself, a temperate climate would be nice after the stifling, muggy swamps of Dagobah. You had to remind yourself, though, that it was just another step to what you wanted.

Except, what you wanted might be changing. Or had already changed. You picked at the peeling black paint, and eyed the untarnished silver below. The children on Jelucan, and Mando’s child on Dagobah, had you considering a different path. One you find yourself craving for in the dim, red-washed lights of the hull. A youngling of your own? Or maybe not even that complicated, just a...family. Someone to keep fighting for. You had a creed and a plan, but between you and the storage crates you were perched on, you didn’t think you cared to uphold that creed any longer.

Who was it for? Your kin were all dead. You thought of Mando, the man of ice upstairs, and assumed his kin were likely dead too. It was a common side-effect of living on the Outer Rim. It was an even bigger side-effect of being a mandalorian. You wondered, not unkindly, if he was lonely. If he simply had forgotten how to be.

Then your rising stomach acid, the familiar burn hot on your throat, reminded you that he was plenty friendly to Cara and Luke. Loving to Grogu. You assumed he would be kind to Karga, too. Anyone in the galaxy, except for you it seemed.

You groaned, knowing that wasn’t entirely true. Or, if it was, it was because you had thought he was going to murder you. For the record, you thought, it’s unlikely.

He cleared his throat twice before you noticed, teetering dangerously close to falling from your crate from the startle. He titled his helmet, and you decided it was an apology.

“We’re dropping from hyperspace, and docking, so, if you want to strap in somewhere…” He trailed off, but was vaguely gesturing to your impeccable balance. You snorted in response, but followed him back up the stairs.

He seemed to have thawed in your time apart.

“It is beautiful here, isn’t it?” You mused, your modulated tone not carrying the wonder you felt. Mando only nodded in response, and paid to be refueled. You shrugged and stepped off the ramp. You wished you could deeply inhale, the air seemed clean, even at the Kwilaan spaceport.

You followed the crowd, the intermingling of species a stark contrast to any covert you’d been in. You had always loved the variety of life, and found it lacking in mandalorian culture. Not that it was strictly humans, like you and Mando. It was quite the opposite, as far as you knew. A misread text, a few generations of stuffy “believers,” and a civil war, kept most mandalorians beneath their beskar. Even painted beskar sang of mundanity. Even the light of Naboo reflected off of Mando’s pauldron paled in comparison to the stormy eyes you knew were just below the visor.

Yelling brought your attention back to the market, and you smiled when you saw the bountiful fruit selection. Jelucan and Nevarro had their charms, you were sure, but a selection of fresh fruit wasn’t one. Understandably, Mando’s ship wasn’t stocked with any, and yours hadn’t been either. Luke had shared his meals with you, but Dagobah seemed treacherous. You hoped he would take his X-Wing and Grogu and fly somewhere nicer. A beach planet, hopefully.

Mando gently squeezed your arm, and it brought you back again. You felt heat creep up your neck, and wondered when you had gotten so airheaded. You motioned to the fruit, and paid the merchant for a heavy bag. You tugged Mando’s arm with you to the next stall, and so it went. You flitting around, stocking up for the journey, and pulling Mando along. He stood beside you, not possessively or threateningly, just there. Not that you needed help looking intimidating. The chipped black paint gave you the look of a seasoned warrior.

It was far from the truth, but it helped keep the pickpockets away. When you had finished your shopping, and pulled Mando back to the flow of the crowd heading into the station, he seemed to deflate a bit. You smiled at his hesitancy. When you got to the ship, you watched as Mando toggled his vambrace to shut the door.

“Want to camp out by a lake tonight? We have a long trip ahead, and this planet is too good to pass up.” You spoke confidently, but you flexed your fingers at your side to stop their shaking. He tilted his helmet dramatically to the side, and you waited for the disapproving verbiage. It didn’t come.

“It is getting pretty late…” He told you quietly, and motioned towards the cockpit. You followed, setting the few bags down, and taking the rungs two at a time.

You sat down behind him, and he punched in some coordinates. The ship lifted easily, and you watched the city die down until there was nothing but mountains beneath you. You sucked in a sharp breath when the mountains broke away and revealed a beautiful lake vista. Mando surprised you by setting the ship down, right in the field. You looked at him, sure your helmet betrayed your shock, and he chuckled.

“I thought you might ask, so I checked a few places.” He shrugged, not knowing that the gesture was too much. Too big. Just a few hours ago, you had resigned to never talk to him again. And here he had found you a gorgeous campsite. You rested your hand on his, for a moment, and then took it away. You hoped it conveyed the right message, but you weren’t sure what you wanted that message to be anymore.

You stood slowly, and eased your helmet off. You paused for a minute, and then decided to go all the way. You took each piece of armor off, casting it aside, until you were down to the under clothes. Mando watched silently, and you wondered if it felt sacrilegious to him. Until, he reached up under his helmet, and slipped it off. His hair was messy from the helmet, but the curls still plopped around his face. He was less hesitant in removing the rest. Soon, he was in his dark under clothes. His slight smile was a delicious sight.

“You can bring the blaster.” You joked, as you made your way to the ladder. He fixed you with a glare, and then smirked.

“Of course. Weapons are my religion.” You giggled as you picked the bag of fruit up, and walked down the ramp. Mando was two steps behind you, controlling the ship with his vambrace. You liked that feature, you’d have to have him set yours up. If you ever made it back to your ship.

More and more, you were hopeful you would. You watched as he spread a small blanket out on the soft grass, and you joined him when he clumsily sat down. He laughed, a sharp, barking laugh. An unpracticed laugh, you realized.

“I can’t remember the last time I sat down with the suit.” He explained, grabbing the muja fruit from your hand. You glared, but grabbed a new one, anyway.

“That’s incredible. I can’t wait to have mine off.” You muttered into the skin of the fruit, before taking a bite. You felt his eyes, so you met them. He looked amazed. Or maybe, curious.

“Doesn’t your armor feel natural to you? Like a second skin. Or even your only skin? I feel so exposed right now.” He confessed, taking a bite. You considered it for a moment.

“I...I never felt like I really belonged in the suit at all. It’s stifling to me.”

“Probably because you painted it black.” He told you, his usual deadpan tone ruined by his loping grin.

“Well, I only just did that. It was part of my death rite, I guess.” He lifted an eyebrow, so you continued. “I didn’t think I would still be alive. I had big plans, but then...the Force? No, not for me. Whatever controls the universe, reminded me what life was actually like. My clan was wiped out, and for a while, I couldn’t breathe.”

“I was orphaned when I was young. It was a war. I was rescued. Were you born in?” You nodded, stealing another glance at him. His brow was furrowed, and you wanted to smooth it.

“I’ve never known anything else...but it doesn’t feel right to me. I don’t know, Mando-”

“Mando?” He interrupted, looking bemused.

“Yeah, I don’t know your name.” You took a bite to cover how awkward you felt.

“Yes, you do? Luke said it back on Dagobah.” He reminded you. As if you had forgotten, what the most beautiful man you’ve seen was named.

“Well, you hadn't told me. It seemed too...personal. And you were mad at me.” You told him, matter-of-factly.

“I wasn’t mad at you, ridiculous girl. I was amazed. You just…” He mimicked taking his helmet off. “Without any hesitation. You let me in, just like that.” You felt your ears start to get hot.

“You saw me without my helmet in the covert?”

“That wasn’t deliberate.”

“It could have been.”

“I don’t think it was.” He murmured. It was only then you realized how close you had gotted. Both of you gravitating toward the other, the blanket bunched by your legs, his breath hot and sweet in your nose.

“Din.” He told you, his nose grazing yours, before he pulled back completely.

“Nice to meet you, Din.” You whispered, your mind not as sharp as it was, drunk on his smell. He lifted his fruit to yours, and met your eyes again.

“To names and faces.” He smiled as he waited for your cheers, and you couldn’t string together a thought, let alone a joke.

“To...mavar.” You said plainly, taking a bite of your fruit.

**Mavar: freedom.

#the mandalorian #mandomay2021 #mando x fem!reader #din djarin #din djarin x f!reader #star wars #Star Wars fic #mandalorians

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popwasabi · 3 years

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“The Mandalorian” S2 is a power fantasy with mini Star Wars trailers

The term “Plot armor” is often used by readers and viewers to describe the myriad of ways writers keep their heroes away from any real danger no matter what choices or actions they make in the narrative. It’s typically a derisive phrase for the way a writer’s hero seems to escape death no matter what is thrown at him for the sole purpose of moving the plot forward.

In Disney+’s “The Mandalorian” this term takes a far more literal description in the form of our main anti-hero, played by Pedro Pascal, in his beskar armor which seems to be, by all accounts the most indestructible material in the galaxy far, far away.

(I mean, it still looks really cool too, of course.)

The result of this narrative decision in this series is that action scenes often don’t have real tension to them. In another series you might be able to reasonably believe the hero might be in danger with blaster fire shooting all around them but with beskar it’s almost comically not the case at all. Stormtroopers fire laser blast after laser blast at The Mando and each time they bounce harmlessly off him as if he were fucking Superman. It makes scenes feel devoid of stakes and danger no matter what situation they are in.

The show thus becomes a power fantasy, as action scenes serve as extended highlight reels for the Mando. Where season 1 of the show mitigated the power of the Mando’s plot armor by putting him more often in situations where his beskar alone wasn’t enough to save the day, season 2 goes mostly full power fantasy as The Mando rarely runs into a situation he can’t just quite literally walk through.

(“Aim for his armor, men! That’s his weak point!”)

This isn’t to say the season wasn’t without its high moments or even that it wasn’t enjoyable plenty of times but the series’ devotion to fan servicey action and callbacks to “Hey remember ____” makes it a fairly shallow story. At least for myself.

Season 2 of “The Mandalorian” continues the story of Din and his small Yoda-like companion, The Child (later known officially as Grogu), as he looks to complete a quest to return the burgeoning Force wielder to the Jedi. As he seeks to reunite The Child with the ancient Order, he encounters other Mandalorians who are on a quest to retake Mandalore and right on their tail is the nefarious Grand Moff Gideon who is still bent on capturing Grogu for whatever it is he has planned for the Empire.

Let me start this review by saying power fantasies aren’t inherently bad to watch or read. They can be good, cathartic junk food for the soul and can also be compelling, artistic, or even deeply metaphorical in their own way. A movie series like “John Wick” for instance is a power fantasy that aims to reinvent the wheel in action film-making with Keanu Reeves performing perhaps the best gun kata of all-time onscreen. Another film like Paul Verhoueven’s “Total Recall” can satirize the power fantasy to show how ridiculous it is in concept.

So, making your hero an unstoppable killing machine isn’t necessarily always a bad thing if used properly.

(Seriously, this is one of the smartest action films ever made. Don’t @ me.)

Now that that’s established, however, “The Mandalorian” season 2, despite some strong moments here and there, is a power fantasy that lacks these elements for a more interesting narrative. If you believe killing dozens of stormtroopers onscreen while never suffering so much as a scratch for eight episodes equals compelling storytelling then boy does Disney have a series for you.

Through the first four-ish episodes, the new season is mostly just fine and even quite enjoyable. We have the Mando getting a fun side quest with Timothy Olyphant on Tatooine where they get to wrangle a sand worm in a callback to the Westerns that inspired much of the franchise’s aesthetic. The Mando gets to escort a frog lady to her home planet to give birth to some tadpoles and they run into some actual danger in this episode in the form of kyrnknas/space spiders. And we get the return of Bo Katan from Dave Filoni’s “Clone Wars” and “Rebels” cartoon series, with Katee Sackhoff herself reprising the role in a fun Mandalorian team-up episode.

(I’m just so happy to see my girl, Starbuck, again more than anything honestly ;_;)

But the wheels started officially falling off for me in the next episode.

Episode 5 marked the live-action debut of fan favorite Ahsoka Tano, played by Rosario Dawson, and she meets the Mando by getting the jump on him with her lightsabers. In virtually any other situation we have been told lightsabers can cut through virtually anything. Now, beskar has been shown to be plenty durable throughout the series so far but lightsabers? Surely not.

Well…

It is an overall good episode despite this but it marked the point for me where I badly wanted The Mando to just go the rest of the series without it. Obviously, the writers aren’t going to actually kill our hero, afterall The Mouse needs more money and he can’t have it unless we get 50 more Mandalorian episodes and spin-offs, but at some point I gotta feel like there’s a possibility at least that our hero might actually die or at least is in danger. It is actually super funny to me each time The Mando ducks or seeks cover in a shootout when I know, and the viewer damn well knows, he can literally walk right into the middle of it and shoot all these motherfuckers at his own leisure cause his actual plot armor is the stuff of adamantium and vibranium combined.

Episode 5 is mostly good though, it’s a nice callback to old school samurai flicks and for an old fan like myself it was enough to ignore beskar again saving the Mando’s ass.

(This was cool...This...was...cool.)

If episode 5 marked the point in which the wheels began to come off though, episode 6 is where the show really spun out into the ditch for me. Perhaps, this series worst episode, personally, episode 6 reintroduces fan favorite and series inspiration Boba Fett back officially into the fold and the result was perhaps the most self-indulgent entry of the series.

(I mean, it was directed by Robert Rodriguez so...)

Boba arrives to demand his beskar from The Mando who promptly tells him “no” before they are ambushed by a platoon of stormtroopers. Alongside Ming-Na Wen’s Fennec Shand, the three do battle with the stormtroopers with ridiculous ease. I’m aware that stormtroopers exist to be on the highlight reel of our heroes in this franchise and have a long history of not being able to hit the broad side of a bantha but again, I can only watch these guys die by the dozens onscreen over and over again while our heroes get away without suffering even a bruise before it starts feeling boring and repetitive.

It only gets worse once Boba actually puts on his armor. In a sequence that I would describe as “gratuitously” fan servicey, Boba wastes just about every last stormtrooper in this scene culminating with him destroying their two get-away vehicles in a single shot with a rocket. Considering he was killing them with ease just moments before with nothing more than a battle club and a bathrobe, it seemed almost hilariously needless that he donned his iconic armor.

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(It would be tempting to say the stormtroopers fought as ineptly as the Putty Patrol here but even the Power Rangers have struggled a few times against these guys...)

I get that Boba is really important to a lot of fans, based on their perceptions of him in the original trilogy and subsequent books and graphic novels that came out in the following years, but here’s a hot take; this series didn’t need him in it. Maybe they didn’t need to keep him rotting in the Sarlacc Pit but this episode, alongside Ahsoka Tano’s feels more like marketing choices for the story rather than narrative ones. I’ll concede that there is a bit more substance to having Ahsoka there to commune with Grogu but their additions to the plot don’t actually show much of anything about the Mando outside physically helping him in a fight.

The way they tease, in both cases, stories that exist outside the internal narrative between Ahsoka’s search for Admiral Thrawn and Boba taking over Jabba’s palace at the end of the final episode, it feels like Disney threw in mini trailers for fans to nibble on at the expense of telling the Mando’s own story and letting it stand on its own like the first season.

The choice to have these characters shoved into this season again appears to be market driven not narrative. Once more, I get that these characters are important personally to many fans, but the appearance of these characters alone DO NOT equal good storytelling.

(Me when a fan tells me “But Boba was such a badass in *obscurely titled EU book that a handful of general audiences have read*! He deserves this moment!”)

The final episode of the season is truly encapsulating of all these issues “The Mandalorian” has, however. Moff Gideon, played by the always sharp Giancarlo Esposito, has Grogu imprisoned aboard his ship. The Mando and his friends plan a rescue mission to save him and, just like nearly every episode before, it is stupidly easy for our protagonists.

The crew of five, again, walk through every Imperial on the ship. I don’t mean this metaphorically by the way, I mean this literally as Cara, Fennec, Bo Katan and Koshka Reeves (played by WWE’s Sasha Banks) without a single moment of real adversity just blast through every stormtrooper on the ship and never get hit once in the process.

A good action scene needs an element of danger, a sense that our hero might actually not come out of this alive even though we all know they will. An action scene without this has no tension and without tension it becomes booooooooring.

(Even John fucking Wick is capable of bleeding, guys...)

The finale had a chance, however, to add real stakes and danger to the scene in the form of this season’s new enemy; The Dark Troopers. These Imperial battle droids were foreshadowed as these super soldiers at the end of episode 4 and seemed to be billed as a real dangerous match for our heroes to faceup against. When the Mando finally gets himself face to face with one he finds they are not as easy to kill as the nameless stormtroopers from before. To see The Mando briefly face real adversity for a change snapped me out of my cynical mood so sharply for a moment I thought I had turned on another series by accident.

But of course, danger never lasts long in this series as The Mando’s armor again saves him first from getting pummeled to death by the droid’s super fists then he uses his plot spear, cause of course he has one of those too, to finish the job.

Danger over.

Moff Gideon doesn’t fair much better in this episode. This villain who had been built up for two seasons as this calculative monster gets stopped rather easily with Mando and his friends barely breaking a sweat. This character feels wasted because of this, even though I’m sure Giancarlo Esposito will return in the next season. He just feels about as much like a pushover as the nameless stormtroopers in this series.

The episode had one more chance though to show these Dark Troopers meant business toward the end as we found the heroes cornered on the command deck with nowhere to run and a dozen of these droids ready to blast and pound them into the floorboards. But help arrives in the form of a Deus X-Wing Machina.

Without having to face even one Dark Trooper, Luke fucking Skywalker arrives on the ship and kills every droid without breaking a sweat. It plays as inspiring in the moment but again I just found myself bored and irritated. A chance to see the series heroes actually use their wits and show their creativity in a moment of true danger thwarted to please fan boys.

I get that Grogu called out to him in episode 6 but creatively this felt like an extremley lazy way to solve the heroes’ dilemna.

(“Hello my name is Jedi. I enjoy doing...*computes script* Jedi things.”)

This season wasn’t all bad. It certainly had nice production value that made each alien world pop and beautiful to look at. Every actor and actress played their parts expertly well, with what they were given, and made for interesting characters at times. There are also nice homages to both Western and Samurai cinema throughout the season that fans of both will appreciate. And Pedro Pascal is just so good on his own, especially in tender moments with Grogu, that you forget that his character is kind of a Gary Stu.

But the main crux of the issue here that I’m trying to get across is the reason you need to remove the plot armor of your heroes is not just because action scenes need tension and stakes, it’s that when faced with danger these scenes reveal who these characters are. I used to believe that the reason Mandalorians and Jedi had such a fierce rivalry in the lore despite the obvious advantages of wielding the Force was because these famed bounty hunters were just that fucking good at killing. That despite being, on paper, normal people they had great martial prowess, athletic skill, and the tactical wit to outsmart people who can literally sense their feelings. But now with beskar and the way this series is written, it appears the Mandalorians were challenging warriors just because they happened to harness the most OP armor building material in the galaxy.

It makes you wonder how the fuck they were conquered to begin with…

(Maybe they just needed more knee rockets...)

This takes away from the mysticism of the Mandalorians for me. It makes The Mando less interesting to me in the way he fights. Yea he can shoot really good too but really it’s the armor that makes him the fighter that he is and I find that kind of boring. We occasionally get this character to remove the armor during the series, including a whole episode that was easily one of the best of the season, and in every case he’s more interesting once the helmet comes off. I get that fans hold a lot of reverence for that armor, yea it still looks really cool, but making it this impenetrable super material doesn’t add anything to the story.

If anything, it takes away from it.

(Plus how could you not love Pedro Pascal when he’s out of armor? uWu)

I wouldn’t go as far as to say I hate season 2, even though I spent 2000 plus words just now lambasting it but I guess I just want to say I am unimpressed more than anything. I feel like I’ve seen better Star Wars be it in the movies, cartoons, books, video games, etc and I’ve certainly seen better action in the franchise as well.

Considering fan reaction so far appears to be overwhelmingly positive, I am definitely in the minority here and you are welcome to enjoy this series as much as you want in spite of how unimpressed I am with the season. But considering all I have seen of this fandom the last few years, regarding complaints about fan service (“Rogue One”), easily defeated/underdeveloped bad guys (“The Last Jedi”), and Mary Sues (The sequel trilogy in general), I have to ask again what is it actually that fans like or don’t like about new entries in the franchise? It’s not that there isn’t valid criticisms there and “The Mandalorian” is enjoyable in sincere ways too but it has many of the issues I hear commonly said of more divisive entries in the Disneyverse. So why does it get a pass?

I’ve been told it’s not worth my energy to talk too derisively about the fans in one of my earlier write-ups, so I’ll leave it at that but it does make me wonder.

(“Rogue One” admittedly has a simarily self-indulgent action sequence though haha...)

Season 2 of “The Mandalorian” isn’t the worst piece of Star Wars media ever created, far from it, and for most part its solid enjoyable Saturday morning cartoon theater but if the series wants to really take steps to become more compelling in the future it might be good to stop bubble wrapping their heroes in plot armor. Literally.

Until then this is the way…I guess…

Me getting ready for the backlash...

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flightrules · 3 years

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Which Kind Do You Want to Be?

Chapter 3: It’s (not) fine

This was supposed to be a simple hook-up. Harmless entertainment for a couple of days on board the Razor Crest.

This is complicated.

Summary: This is a story about trust and kindness, loneliness and loss, belief and transgression. And two people crossing paths just long enough to find each other.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Read on AO3

Relationships and characters: Din/female reader (both similar age to Din in canon), Grogu, and a cameo from Peli.

Rating: Mature? Explicit? Anyhow, grown-up sexy stuff in later chapters. Please be old enough to be reading this kind of thing.

Tags and warnings: Moments of angst, domesticity, kindness, explicit consent, and Din doing his best to be a conscientious parent in the midst of everything. Heads up for descriptions of canon-typical violence, mention of past dubious consent, and a moment of (unintentional) violence between our protagonists. Ending is bittersweet.

Hyperspace is boring.

You should have run out to a shop on Tatooine to pick up a datapad or something. A puzzle. Hell, maybe some craft supplies. At least you’d have something to do.

But then, you think ruefully, you'd been planning on doing him. Who could blame you if you'd been a little distracted.

You've already changed into clean clothes, after a quick few minutes in the cramped space that holds the sonic shower. Those things always leave your hair feeling dry and crackly with static. But, how extravagant to be able to shower at all.

The acid burn on your shoulder is still a little tender. When you touch it, you can feel it starting to scab over and your fingers come away dry, so you don’t bother trying to hunt up another bandage. You can always ask him later if you find you need one.

You check the rest of your clothes to make sure the blood and dirt stains have come out, then fold everything and tuck it all back in your pack. You toss the last few dirty items into the machine and start a new cleaning cycle.

Then you stand there, all by yourself down there in the hold, and spend the next two minutes watching the laundry timer count down.

This is stupid. There's got to be a better use of your time. You can't go back up to the cockpit, that would defeat the purpose of having left. You'll give him whatever space he needs, for now.

You’d love a closer look at that armory, but you know better than to mess with the man’s weapons. He did ask you to lock the safety on your rifle--for the sake of the child--but otherwise he’s left it alone. You’ll do him the same courtesy.

Some of the other cabinets probably hide clothing, maybe other personal stuff. What else would a man like this own? Is there a library of data chips somewhere? Toys for the child?

Pictures of friends?

There’s an open niche in the wall, on the opposite side from the armory, that you’re pretty sure is a compact carbon freezing unit.

Supposedly people aren't conscious inside those copper-colored slabs, but--you imagine being stuck in whatever pose you were in when the carbon jets hit you, for however long someone decided to leave you there.

It makes you shudder.

Further back toward the cargo door, duraplast cartons are lined up along the walls, secured with cords and netting. The floor in the middle is empty.

Well, here’s something you can do. Your muscles are feeling stiff and a little achy, the aftereffects of fighting combined with the three-day trek. There’s enough room back here to do some stretches. Maybe some bodyweight exercises, too. A couple days of rest wouldn’t do you in, but keeping fit is what keeps you alive. It's a good habit to maintain.

You start by reaching both arms up above your head, trying to get some movement in your upper back, but your hands are flat on the low ceiling before your arms are even straight. Instead, you move on to a couple stretches with each elbow bent above your head, the other hand pressing down. The healing skin over your shoulder blade pulls a bit, but it doesn’t hurt too much. Probably good to stretch the skin there, too, try to keep the burn from contracting into too tough a scar.

“Will we bother you if we’re down here?” His voice makes you jump. You didn’t hear him come down the ladder but there he is, the child at his feet.

His tone is neutral and that shine is gone from his eyes. Whatever was going on earlier, it seems to have passed. You're not sure if asking right now would be welcome.

The child’s watching you with interest. The pose you were in probably did look funny. But, you remind yourself, it's also perfectly normal. You can't do the work you do--or the work you're pretty sure he does--without maintenance.

"It's your ship," you say. "Will it bother you if I keep going?"

“We can stay busy up front for a while.”

As you work your way through sit-ups, push-ups, lunges, and squats, you can hear the soft murmur of his voice. It sounds like he might be reading the child a story, but it’s not in a language you recognize. Once you hear, “No, we’re not playing that right now. It’ll be our turn soon.”

You find yourself wrapping up your routine a little early, interested in what game the child might have in mind. You duck back past that carbon freezing nook and find the man seated at a little fold-down table, the child in his lap. They’re looking at a data pad together.

“Having lessons?” you ask.

“Just looking at pictures.”

“What language were you speaking?”

His head turns toward you like he's about to answer but then he pauses, lips parted but face blank. Then he sits up a little straighter, upper body going stiff even as one hand's still holding the datapad for the child. “Mando’a,” he says. “We don’t usually speak it in front of outsiders.”

“I never heard you, then.”

“No, I’ve already--” he looks down at himself, at the shirt and trousers, so different from the armor. “It’s all right.”

You have a very uncomfortable suspicion that it isn’t.

You think again of asking but he’s already getting to his feet, child held in one arm, and he’s setting the datapad back behind a cupboard door.

"Trade places?" he asks.

So you were right, he's got his own workout to keep up with. "Do you want me to watch the little one?"

"No, thank you," he says. "We have our routine worked out together."

This you've got to see. "Can I keep you company?"

When he doesn’t answer right away, you figure he's going to say no. That's all right, you felt a little awkward at the thought of him and the child watching you, and you're used to having your face and body out in the open. You’ll ask to borrow the datapad or something, keep yourself distracted. And maybe afterward, you'll find out what was going on with him this morning--and get back to what he seemed to want when he asked you to stay.

The child is smiling up at him and waving little hands your way.

The man uses his free hand to fold the table up against the wall and stow the chair flat beneath it. A quick tilt of his head looks like, Fine, come along.

So you do.

You perch atop one of the stacks of boxes while he warms up. He’s got some of the same stretches you use, and some you haven’t seen before. The best part though is watching the child. When the man shifts into a lunge, one arm stretched forward and the other behind, he’s got a miniature mirror at his side. The child’s balance is wobbly but his little mouth is set.

When they switch to pushups, the child climbs up to sit between his shoulder blades and you’re a little worried you’re going to die right there, watching the two of them together. You can usually make it to about 25 reps before your arms give out. He’s somewhere around 40, the child holding on to the neck of his sweatshirt and giggling, before he gives up on the last one and lets his chest hit the floor. The child pats his hair as you hear a mumbled “dank farrik” from down there against the durasteel.

“You ok?”

He rolls over, moving slowly enough that the child can clamber down from his back. “I must have pulled something in my shoulder. Hasn’t been right since we got back.”

Up until now he’s done every movement perfectly, hitting each pose with more precision than you could manage even on your best day. “It’s been hurting all this time?”

He bends one knee and sits up, leaving the other leg stretched out. “It’ll heal.”

“Can I help?”

He’s giving you a strange look, eyebrows raised. You’re not sure why. “Help how?”

“Maybe I can help you work some of the knots out of the muscles. If you didn’t do real damage, I mean.”

Whatever he was thinking, your answer must have cleared it up, because his face settles into a more neutral expression. “Sure.”

The child has wandered a little bit away in the meantime, and when you look over he’s playing quietly with the netting that holds the crates in place. The openings are just the right size for his hands and feet, and he’s using the net like a ladder to climb about. You’re not so sure about how high up he’s getting. The crates are stacked only a few feet tall, but that’s already two or three times his height.

The man seems fine with it.

He’s not your kid, you remind yourself. “All right. Let’s see what we can do.”

It’s been a long time since you’ve had someone to do stretches with. Same for him, he tells you. Learning to fight meant injuries, and as a teenager he’d learned to take care of others’ hurts as well as his own. That was, he says, a long time ago.

When you learned to do partner work, it was about making bodies feel good. That was a different time, in a different world. Back when you had a home to go to.

He still remembers the movements, and it comes right back to you, too. Except, it turns out he’s terrible at it.

“You’ve got to let your arm go,” you tell him for the third time. You’re kneeling beside him and trying to help him roll that shoulder, one hand over the joint and the other supporting his upper arm. At first his muscles were so stiff under your hands that nothing moved at all. Now he’s getting ahead of you, anticipating the movements instead of relaxing into them.

“This isn’t going to work,” he says.

“Not if you keep fighting it, it’s not.”

“It’s not going to work.” You’re startled how quickly his tone’s turned angry and how roughly he pulls away.

“Hey,” you say, dropping your hands. “I’m trying to help.”

“It’s fine.”

Things are clearly not fine. “What’s going on here?”

You’re not at all expecting what he snaps back at you. “I can’t take care of another being.”

Oh now, that is not fair. You're not looking for handouts. He <i>asked</i> you to stay. “Fuck you.” The words are out of your mouth before you can catch up to them. “I take care of myself.”

He looks a little shocked. You’re not sure if it’s because of his own words, or yours.

“We already said no strings. You’re not the only one who means what they say.”

He sighs, and just as fast as it appeared, the anger's gone from his tone. “What we started last night. Don’t people get attached?”

“I wasn’t planning to.” You can hear how cold your own voice still sounds.

His gaze strays toward the child, who’s now perched halfway up a stack of boxes, hands and feet curled in the netting, big eyes watching the two of you. The wrinkles in the little forehead have deepened.

You try to soften your tone. A child deserves to hear gentleness. You point between this man and yourself, and it’s a choppier movement than you intend. "What do you think this is?”

He gets to his feet and goes over to pick the child up, carefully separating the little claws from the netting. He rubs the little one’s back briefly before settling him in his arms. He always holds the child facing out, so he can look at the world. You wonder if that’s because he’s not used to holding babies, or if he’s projecting. You doubt he'd ever choose to sit with his back to a door.

“I don’t know,” he says.

Your defensiveness drains away as you realize, looking up at him, he really doesn’t. What have I gotten myself into? You know what you want, and it’s standing in front of you wearing way too much clothing. Those curls tumbling, just a little too long, over his forehead are killing you.

But your brain is finally catching up. The casual tumble you had in mind, the chance to blow off some steam with a friend? That’s not going to happen. Not with this man, not with whatever is happening for him here.

“I don’t know either,” you admit, surprised to hear yourself say it.

“I can’t make you any promises,” he says.

“I never expected you to.”

His hands, so carefully holding the child, have blue and purple bruises on the knuckles. Yours look like that too, skin over the knuckles still swollen, bruises tending toward dark purple against your darker skin.

You’ve seen what his hands can do. There was a moment, back there in the jungle, when the child was already in your arms. The kidnapper you’d snatched him from was lying in the dirt, fingers clawing at metal gauntlets as gloved hands closed around his throat.

This man standing in front of you now, looking soft and serious and no longer angry: he was kneeling astride the kidnapper’s chest. When the body under him went limp, he shifted his weight, moved one hand to the top of the kidnapper’s head and the other below it to his chin, and gave a single sharp twist.

If this man ever has to make a choice, you have no illusions about who he will put first.

He paid you for three days of your time, and that time is long since over. You owe each other nothing. You get to your feet, too, so it feels more like equals. “Can we agree on one thing for now?”

He waits. The child watches you placidly.

“Until we get to Pavotha. And as long as we're safe on this ship," you add, because things can change, and you want him to know that you know. "Until then, can we trust each other?”

You’re expecting him to put a condition on it. As long as you promise to leave when we get there.

He reaches out with the hand that’s not holding the child, and waits for you to grasp it.

You reach back across the space between you and rest your hand in his.

By the time he finishes his workout, it’s well into mid-day and the three of you gather at the little fold-out table for a meal. You've each had a quick few minutes with the sonic shower, trading places in the cockpit again so you could each get into fresh clothes. The air smells of ozone as the laundry machine runs another cycle.

There are chairs for the adults. The child sits right on the table, choosing the bits he wants from a ration pack.

“Have you been to Pavotha before?” you ask. Whatever’s between you still feels fragile. Best stick to neutral topics for now.

“A few times.” He turns to speak to the child. “You can eat those first, but you better finish the rest. You’re not getting mine.” The child burbles indignantly back at him. “Complain all you want,” he says. “I spoil you enough.” It’s the most indulgent-sounding scolding you’ve ever heard. But the child gives a sigh--sounding for all the world like his father--and starts eating the rest of what’s in his tray.

“Rumor says there are Mandalorians there. I’m hoping they’ll know more than I do, about how to find the child’s people.”

Rumor says? “Can’t you just send them a message?”

He shakes his head. “It doesn’t work like that.”

“But they’ll help you if you find them?”

“Yes, we--” he stops, and for a fleeting moment his expression is one of unguarded panic. He rests his forehead in one hand for a moment, then swipes his palm down his uncovered face. “Gods, I’m-- I haven’t even thought that far. I’ve been so tired.”

The child is still munching contentedly on his rations. He stops long enough to offer a piece of flatbread to the man, who regards him seriously. “No, thank you. You’ll be hungry later if you don’t eat that yourself. No,” he goes on, almost to himself. “He’s a foundling. They’ll help.”

So much for sticking to neutral topics. You’d thought you understood what happened last night, but it’s increasingly clear you have no idea. “What haven’t you told me?”

“What do you know about Mandalorians?”

Not a lot, truly. You know that if you see someone decked out in that armor, it’s wise to get out of the way. You knew when he offered you a job, there was a strong chance he’d be good for the money. You know you don’t see Mandalorians often, but you never thought much about why.

The child goes on eating, pausing now and then to drink from a little cup that’s just the right size for his hands. As the man keeps talking, though, the child scoots over closer, until he’s nestled up against one forearm. He leans in, chewing on a strip of dried meat while both of you listen.

Your own food sits forgotten.

He told you already how the tradition of wearing Mandalorian armor goes back hundreds of years. You already know that when he let you help him remove his helmet, his armor, he was choosing to set aside a promise he’d once made. You saw for yourself, last night, how raw he’d been feeling before you even met him, and you saw how quickly, given the chance, that had turned into shuddering tears.

You hadn’t known, because he hadn’t told you: How his people are scattered. Hunted. That the armor isn’t just a symbol, it’s their survival. That what’s left of Mandalore is a fragile chain, stretched across the galaxy.

And now one more link is broken.

This wasn’t your doing. You know that. You don’t need to fix it.

You can’t fix it. It’s not about you.

You get up anyway, step around the tiny table to his side. “Are you going to let me hug you?”

He’s still looking straight ahead, at the place where you were sitting. He doesn’t look at you, but he nods.

It’s completely awkward, you leaning down to get your arms around him, the child now trying to snuggle closer, and him still sitting straight and stiff. Finally you can feel him start to let go. His chest rises and falls with a deep, measured breath. His head and shoulders lean into you, muscles finally going soft.

A moment later he mumbles something against your shirt.

“What was that?”

He lifts his head, looks down at the child. “Naptime. I need to go settle him down, or he’s going to be a terror all afternoon.”

#the mandalorian #din djarin x reader #fanfic #din djarin needs a hug #touch-starved din djarin #din djarin/reader

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wreathedinscales · 3 years

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Din parenting Ben Solo has become one of my main vibes rn

()

"Ben?"

The voice doesn't stop the earthquake, but Ben can take a few more steps before collapsing on his knees.

"Ben." Urgent. Ben doesn't want to know what he looks like right now.

"Din," he murmurs. Everything feels so. He doesn't really know. But it hurts. "Din...I need...I need help."

Din's projection blurs as he presumably sets a course. "I'm on my way. Are you in a safe place? Where's Grogu?"

The thing that hurts gushes like an open wound. "Grogu?" he growls, "Always Grogu first, always. This was a mistake."

"Grogu is also my foundling. I can ask after both of you."

Ben raises his fist to smash the commlink. Din's shouting his name doesn't freeze him. But he does stop, arm shaking. Everything shaking. Everything hurting.

He lowers the commlink slowly, whispering, "Also?"

Din's holographic fists flex around the throttle.

"What does that mean?" No answer. Louder, harsher, Ben demands, "What does that mean?"

"You've told me time and again I'm not your father," Din replies with forced steadiness. "I'm not."

"You said it," Ben hisses. "Also. Both. Answer my question!"

"I care for you as one," Din blurts. "You know I do, Ben. That's why you keep telling me I'm not Solo."

No, he isn't Han Solo.

"It was a slip-up," Din says, "I'm about to jump. I'll be there as soon as I can. Stay safe."

He disappears, leaving the earthquake to shatter Ben's lungs.

()

Objectively, Ben knows Han Solo is not a bad father. The man has always been there on the rare occasions Ben calls. He jokes around with him, teaches him the inner workings of the Falcon. Awkward for emotional talks, but he never backs down from them even when he says You should probably ask your mother.

Ben doesn't know why they drifted apart, but he knows it's not really because of Solo. He just...doesn't feel the way a son should feel when he sees him. Not like when his mother sweeps into a room. For some reason, Ben feels little fraternal attachment.

His father has noticed of course. It's hard not to, especially when Han knows when he's not wanted. Force knows he keeps trying. Still, Ben can feels his relief in when Luke and Leia present the idea of Luke's school to his son.

Din Djarin is...different.

Some of the children still have parents. Grogu blasts his love for his "buir" in the Force whenever someone even hints at their own. It's nothing Ben hasn't heard before. Yet when the Mandalorian visits, that feeling Solo never inspired ignites in Ben's chest.

There's no logic in it. Yet Ben never says You're not my father when Din offers a portion of his food or gently corrects his stance. He always says You're not Solo.

Huddled behind a thick tree, Ben realizes the difference. Realizes he hadn't even thought to call his parents as he ran. The Dark calls to him, and it's so tempting, but he still waits for Din Djarin.

He tucks his head between his legs and grips his hair. His lightsaber feels heavy at his hip. It's starting to weep with him, kyber threatening to bleed.

He doesn't move. He will not move.

()

FEARFEARRELIEF

"Ah!"

Ben leaps away, crawling on his back. Grogu collides with his knee. His big eyes are wet. Ben can barely see him.

He wants to scream at the gremlin. If he's found him, he'll shout and—

"Ben!"

At first, Ben scrambles to his feet, about to run. But that's not his—not Master Skywalker.

Din slides across the dirt as Ben falls back down, switching off his helmet light so he doesn't blind him. His gloves grip Ben's shoulders.

"Are you alright?"

How long has Ben been hiding? Was Din far away? His rust-bucket of a ship might be overheating. Ben hears Solo's lecture. Distant. Not as real as Din cupping his face and shaking him.

"I don't know what to do," Ben croaks. "He's calling me. I want to answer. And you came."

"Who's calling you?" Din demands.

"Snoak. He's—he's going to be my new Master." Ben's fingers touch his saber. "It's bleeding."

Din pats him down. "What is?"

Ben presents his lightsaber and ignites it. Din recoils out of the way. His blade is not longer pure blue. Red seethes from the hilt, spreading like watercolors to the tip of the blade.

"...okay." Din carefully touches Ben's thumb, deactivating the saber. "What happened?"

He doesn't sound scared or disgusted. His hands don't shake when they return to Ben's shoulders. Not like Grogu, who is cowering in Din's cape and whimpering. Ben imagines choking him. He's never really done that before. It feels good. Powerful.

He gasps loudly as cold beskar slams into him.

"Stay with me, kid."

Din is hugging him. Does he know?

"I'm Falling," Ben rasps, "I'm Falling, and you can't stop it."

"Okay," Din repeats.

"They won't think so." Ben's eyes wander back to Grogu. It's a little hard now, with Din holding him so tightly. "I can feel your precious son's neck snapping in my hands."

Din finally tenses. Grogu muffles his sobs against his father's hip.

"Why do you want to kill him?" Din asks quietly.

"He's annoying me."

"That's not a good enough reason."

"Why not? I'm more powerful than him. I can do it."

Din pulls back. He pulls back and—honestly, Ben is bracing for the punch. Maybe a knife.

Din yanks off his helmet.

He's old. Maybe Skywalker's age, maybe a bit older. He has a mustache. He has brown eyes. There is tension in his face. Without the beskar, Ben can really sense him. He is scared. He is worried. He is protective.

"Look at me," he tells Ben. "Listen. You are not a killer. Don't," he orders over Ben's opening mouth, "say I don't know anything about you. You know that's not true." He cups Ben's face again. "You are terrified, and that makes you desperate. Desperate beings can be driven to anything. It doesn't matter if you wield your powers or not." He leans close. "Whatever so-called Master is talking to you has been waiting for this. He wants you to think you have no choice. But what did you do?"

Ben is breathing. Really breathing. "I called you."

Din nods. "And are you choking Grogu?"

"...no."

Another nod. "I won't stop you from making your choice. But don't let yourself be cornered."

Ben trembles. He is breathing and he is trembling. He is crying. He is Falling. He is being held.

"He tried to kill me," Ben sobs, "I don't know what to do. I can't go back. I can't."

Din's expression hardens. "Who tried to kill you?"

"Skywalker," Ben spits, "He was afraid of me! Afraid of what I can become without him!"

The Force thickens around Din. He is no longer afraid. He is angry—angrier than Ben.

The Mandalorian puts on his helmet and stands. He picks up Grogu and holds out his hand. Ben takes it.

"Stay behind me."

()

Ben shudders when he sees Skywalker. Din's hovering arm feels like a wall between them. By rights, it shouldn't feel safe.

"What did you do?!" Din roars. Violent vindication sweeps through Ben as Skywalker curls into himself. "You try to kill one of your own? Someone you swore to protect?"

Fearfearfear whimpers from Grogu. Fearfearmasterskywalkertherearetoomanyofthem—Ben stifles his vomit. No one's told him—no one ever talks about Va—

The other students emerge from their beds. They huddle like mice as Din unholsters his blaster.

"You have no right to call yourself a teacher," Din snarls, "No right to call yourself Jedi."

Oh, it feels good to see Skywalker like this. Broken. How does it feel?

"Put down your weapon," Din orders.

"Din—"

"Luke, don't. Put it down."

Skywalker puts it down.

"I'm calling Marshal Dune. The second she touches ground, I'm taking Ben. Until then, if you even look at him wrong, I will not hesitate."

The children gasp and whimper, looking between him and Skywalker.

"I don't know what happened," Skywalker mumbles, "Din, I would never—"

"Clearly you would."

Skywalker doesn't sit so much as collapse. He bows his head and says nothing more.

()

Ben curls in Din's bunk on the rust-bucket ship, Din standing nearby. It's not overheating after all.

"Let me guess," he says, "I'm not allowed to leave."

To his surprise, Din says, "You can. But I'll be following you."

"Because I'm a threat?"

"Because your own family just tried to kill you, and I don't want him near you, even disarmed." Ben feels his gaze. "I'm going to protect you, kid. Don't worry."

"I'm not," Ben snaps.

Din squeezes his leg. Ben squeezes his eyes shut.

"...I don't want to see them. My parents."

"You'll have to eventually. They'll be worried."

"Will they? I told you, I Fell. I'm everything they've sworn to destroy."

"If they really are your parents, they won't care how far you've gone."

"Are you saying you don't, with your little Jedi?"

"I care about you and your actions. Not some half-dead traditions that say a child should die."

"I am not a child."

"A teenager is still a child to me." Din sighs. "Ben. I'm not scared of you. I don't think you're a monster. I think you're the snarky kid who sneaks cookies to the young ones and keeps using your magic to lift me up while I'm trying to have a conversation."

Ben sits up. Din does nothing. No defensive stance, no reaching for his weapon. When Ben charges him, he merely opens his arms to catch him.

"You're safe," Din whispers, "Fallen or not."

Ben's saber is not screaming anymore.

#ecriture #let (clap) din (clap) djarin (clap) parent (clap) ben (clap) solo

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