#soft din djarin

[draculasfavoritewife]

No Word For Hero

Summary: You love him and the way he will always be your protector, but sometimes facing the truth is the most terrifying thing of all.

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!Reader

Warnings: Nightmares and discussions of death. The one-two punch of angst and fluffiness all in one. This one is a fair bit more somber than my other Mando stuff.

Another trope I will never ever get tired of -- the "having a nightmare while sleeping with your partner" routine! 🥳 Gets me in my feels every time, particularly with a character like Din who (to me at least) canonically also has frequent nightmares. I first drafted this one a couple summers ago as a result of all my feelings after that big moment in "The Marshal", as I'm sure will be obvious.

*Translations of less common words/phrases in Mando'a at the end

It's coming, exploding up from beneath the billowing sands, looming over everyone, titanic, monstrous, ravenous....

...He turns to you, ever so briefly, tilts his head in that meaningful look you know all too well...that damn look that means he's going to play hero again.

Damn his altruism.

When is he going to stop?

You already know that answer, too. It lurks forever in the back of your mind, awake or asleep, always whispering there, a constant venom ever deepening its grasp around your heart until one day the cold reality finally breaks it.

He'll stop when he finally doesn't come back to you.

When he's at last granted the warrior's death you know he desires.

Only then.

You can't even scream as he disappears down the dragon's throat, too frozen with horror to make a sound....

You bolt upright, gasping for breath, damp hair clinging to your face and tears running down, their salty tang sharp on your lips.

Stupid nightmares.

"Go away," you mutter, rubbing harshly at your eyes. "Just stop."

The cot is small, realistically much too small for two adults, and your distress is painfully evident to the man sharing it with you, whose arm has just been violently dislodged from its place around your torso.

"Bad dream?"

He sounds tired. He hardly ever sleeps through a full night at the best of times, and even then it's rarely a deep sleep.

If the old saying "sleep with one eye open" were actually true, Din would be its personification.

You curse your overactive mind a second time, for disturbing his precious few moments of rest along with your own.

"I'm fine." You don't lie back down, instead pulling your knees up to your chest and wrapping your arms tightly around them. Normally you find his quarters chilly, but the adrenaline coursing through your veins makes the room suddenly feel close and stuffy.

He shifts against you in the dark, no doubt to study your posture. "You don't sound fine."

You sigh. "I will be. You should try and get some sleep, Din."

You hear him lean back into the wall, a long exhale betraying stiffness somewhere in his muscles.

You've offered him the side of the bed that's not right up against the wall, but to your surprise he actually likes to be pressed closely between your body and the solidness of metal at his back.

You suspect it gives him a sense of security in a life that holds so little for him.

"I'm sorry I woke you," you add before he can speak again.

"You didn't." His revelation is cool and distant, as if his lack of rest means nothing to him. "I haven't slept at all tonight."

You turn to stare at him in dismay, only to be met with the void of deep darkness. "Why didn't you --"

"What? Wake you up to tell you I can't sleep?" Somehow you know he's shaking his head at you. "That fixes nothing, Cyar'ika. My sleep was disturbed since long before we met." His voice softens as he reaches for you, his large, comfortingly familiar hand stroking down your side. "But when I have you in my arms, listening to your breathing, I can at least find some peace. And that is often enough."

You let out another shuddering breath and gaze out into the dim compartment, the images from your nightmare replaying over and over behind your eyes like a holovid stuck on loop.

"I think I need some air," you murmur.

"Take my shirt, then." You're grateful he doesn't try to stop you; he knows you were taking care of yourself for a long time before you two struck up your partnership. He trusts you to look out for danger.

"Vor'e, Cyare." You slide from the bed, his fingers trailing away from your hip as you break from his gentle touch. He watches as you blindly take his shirt from the pile of clothes left on the floor and pull it over your head, pausing only to grab a vibroblade before exiting his quarters.

"I'll come back," you promise softly.

And the words sting deep down as they leave your lips, knowing that one day, one of you might not be able to keep that promise.

The night is cool and clear on this planet, and the breeze smells like living growth from the thick woods nearby. It's a far cry from the dust and smoke of so many of the worlds you've stayed on before, and soon you start to calm down, heartbeat returning to normal and perspiration drying at the wind's light touch. Everything is peaceful around you, the night birds calling and water flowing somewhere behind the trees.

Not for the first time, your thoughts stray towards the impossibility of trying to stay somewhere like this place, to drop everything you know and carve out a life on a frontier planet somewhere. You and Din and Grogu, living modestly and secretly away from the prying eyes of the Imperials or the Jedi, pretending at normalcy....

There's the key word.

Pretending.

You've played many parts since you lost your buir so many years ago. Dancer in the clubs of the Core worlds, thief, animal wrangler, pilot, hired gun. You could adapt, you feel fairly certain. It's the skill that's most reliably kept you alive this long.

But Din....

He's so deeply entrenched in his upbringing. His honor, and the hunt, mean everything to him. Whatever else he tries to be, he will always be the Mandalorian first and foremost. The Way runs through his veins, thicker than blood, and the fierce heart of a warrior beats beneath the beskar.

It's why he will ultimately always make sacrifices to keep those under his protection safe.

It's who he is. His identity.

The reason that one day he might not emerge from the belly of the beast in triumph.

And you love him, exactly the way he is. You'd never ask him to change.

But Maker, sometimes the knowledge of what that means hurts deeper than any physical wound.

So you stand there at the edge of the woods and let the tears come, let the sobs wrack your body as you bury yourself deeper in his comforting shirt, praying that the day never comes that all you have left are memories and clothes that smell like him.

Eventually, your grief runs its course and you can breathe once again. The crunch of footsteps in the damp grass warrants a side glance, but as you thought, it's only your beroya, come to check on you, no doubt.

"You've been out here a long time," he remarks.

"Had a lot on my mind."

He encircles you in his arms from behind, chin resting in the dip of your shoulder. You're surprised that he didn't replace his helmet to come out here, but sunrise is still a long way off.

"I'm usually the one with the nightmares," he teases softly. "This one must have been rough. Want to talk?"

You find his hands at your waist, interlock your fingers with his.

"I lost someone. Someone very important to me."

Turning slightly so you can rest your cheek against his, you kiss the very edge of his lips. "It scares me, Din."

He's quiet for some time, and you try to imagine the expression on his face.

"I'm sorry," he finally whispers. "I can't give you anything but my word that I will always try my hardest to come back to you. That is what fuels me, ner'kar'ta. The fire in my blood, the strength in my bones, is knowing that I need to make it back for you. But I realize that it is a double-edged blade. Because it also means I would give everything, to keep you safe in the end."

"I know, Din. I remember what my buir used to tell me, you know, how we have no word for 'hero' in our mother tongue, because to be Mando'ade is to risk all for the ones you love. I know I'm so selfish." You turn all the way around at last, hiding your face in his bare chest. "But I accept your vow. And it will have to be enough."

Collecting yourself and finally raising your haunted gaze to his, you manage a small smile. "But I will fight for you, Din Djarin. Death will find one hell of a struggle when it finally comes for you, I can promise you that."

"There's my girl." The fond grin in his voice is audible. "Now, will you come back to bed? It's getting lonesome in there."

You let him lead you back to the ship, and the sigh of the wind now seems to promise to whisk your fears away for the time being.

The door slides shut behind you, and you shiver, realizing all of a sudden just how cold you are. His shirt is a welcome barrier against the biting chill, and you wonder how he was able to get along without it outside.

"Cold?" he asks.

"Yes." You reach out for him, wordlessly begging for his warmth.

He sidesteps you and folds his arms across his chest. "Take it off," he demands, and indicates the shirt with a nod, husky voice brimming with humor and a shade of something hungrier. "Or I will."

You hug the worn fabric closer to your body and shake your head mutinously. "But it's the only thing keeping me warm!"

"So you've chosen the hard way." He crosses the small space in a couple of long strides and starts to tease the garment off of you, bit by agonizing bit. "And how dare you let a piece of clothing do a man's job."

"You're making me cold again," you complain as he pulls you into bed with him, the hunter retreating back to his lair to finish off his fortunate prey.

"Then honor dictates I repair the damage I've caused," he hums, and you surrender to the bliss of being completely enveloped in his embrace. Din has always run hot, ever since you started sleeping together, and his warmth and familiar weight are so much better than any sweet dream of yours could be.

In the here and now, he's still alive, and he's still yours.

There will be no more tears tonight.

"Better?" he growls into your throat.

You run your fingers through his thick curls, sighing at the way he always manages to banish all of your dark thoughts away. And maybe now there will even be time for him to get some sleep before morning as well.

"I am now."

Vor'e = Thank you

Buir = Parent

Beroya = Bounty Hunter

Ner'kar'ta = My heart

Mando'ade = Child of Mandalore

#din djarin #x reader #the mandalorian #bounty hunter #romance #mandalorian x reader #din djarin x reader #female reader #sentimental #favorite tropes #nightmare #comfort #star wars #self insert #a bit sad #bad dreams #soft din djarin #angst #hes so lovely #im not crying you are

[newpathwrites]

I Love it All (Din x f!reader)

“My body is just so…” you closed your eyes, disgusted with yourself. “It’s so… soft… and saggy… literally everywhere…”

He huffed in response, clearly expressing his disagreement. “You mean you’re middle aged…”

Summary: You’re unhappy with your body, and Din is having none of that.

Notes: I don’t know if this is any good - I got this idea and wrote it in a rush instead of working on my WIPs 🤫. It was supposed to be a chaste thing, but for some reason I couldn’t stop it from heading the sexy route. I’m still not very comfortable writing smut, so this is very vague and nondescriptive, and I may have rushed a bit through those parts. This is absolutely not my best work, but I’m trying to follow the advice of all those reassuring Tumblr posts and put it up here, anyway.

Warnings: Non-descriptive sexual content, negative thoughts about one’s body.

Word Count: 1.1k

Read on AO3

Main Masterlist

————————————————————

“Why are you so focused on my worst features?”

Din froze, hand halting its gentle exploration over the skin of your stomach, eyes searching your face.

“What does that mean?” he asked in an unexpectedly dark tone.

Did you really think any of your features were anything less than perfect?  Or did you think he believed so?  That idea was downright offensive.

“It’s just…” you started hesitantly.  “Your hands always seem to gravitate toward the ugliest parts of me…”

“You have no ‘ugly’ parts, Cyar’ika,” he replied quickly.

“We both know I do…”

He looked at you with a mixture of concern and confusion.  “I do not… I think every inch of you is perfect.”

“Well, maybe you only think that because it’s me…”

“Yeah.  Is that not the same thing?”

Stars.  He could be so sweet sometimes without even trying, but he was missing the point.

“You know what I mean, Din,” you sighed, pulling the robe tightly around your body, clearly trying to hide yourself.

“I really don’t, actually.”  His hand snaked around your shoulder to rub your back over the fabric.  “Explain it to me.”

“My body is just so…” you closed your eyes, disgusted with yourself.  “It’s so… soft… and saggy… literally everywhere…”

He huffed in response, clearly expressing his disagreement.  “You mean you’re middle aged…”

You opened your eyes to look at him.  “It’s not attractive.  Don’t try to tell me it is.”

“Alright, look,” he began, pulling your hands away from the fastenings of your robe and exposing your upper half.  “I appreciate the softness…a lot...”  He squeezed once before running his fingers over your breast, thumb passing over your nipple and eliciting a small gasp. “Sure, you look a little different now than fifteen years ago, but… I like that we’ve aged… it means we managed to survive this long together…”

You craned your neck up to kiss him once in agreement.  “That is true, but…”

He cut you off abruptly with his mouth once again on yours.  “Let me finish, Cyare.  I’ve got your whole body to cover here.”

He didn’t wait for a response before adjusting your bodies so that you lay flat on your back below him.  He peeled off your robe entirely and ran his mouth down your neck and chest while gently groping your breasts.

And then he moved on, kissing down your abdomen until he reached the soft rolls of your stomach.  “It makes me happy to see that you’re not skin and bones like you were when we met.  We’ve done well for ourselves - we’ve never gone hungry since, and we should be proud of it.”  He ran his hand softly over your stomach.  “This is evidence that you’re healthy and nourished, and it’s beautiful on you.  I’d like to remind you that I have plenty of this, too.”

He smirked as he laid his lips there, and you allowed a small giggle to escape.  It was true - and you loved that little bit of fat he’d accumulated there.

His mouth continued down until he reached the band of your underwear, eyes looking up at you for permission.

You nodded, and he peeled them down your legs.  “You worry about this, too… don’t you?” he questioned as he ran his fingers through the soft curls of hair there.

You looked mildly but genuinely pained as you responded with mock despair, placing a dramatic hand over your eyes.  “Even my vulva is sagging, Din!”  

He laughed.  At least your mood had improved.  “It’s just aging, Cyar’ika.  A similar part of me is sagging, too.”

Your eyes sparkled with amusement.  “It’s not the same.  Those sag at baseline…”

He laughed again as he lowered himself to the floor at the foot of the bed, kneeling as he pulled your body closer to the edge of the mattress..

“I love all of it exactly as it is.  Okay?”

You nodded.  He’d made his point.

But he was not done.  His fingers had continued to caress the sensitive skin there, heightening your slowly building arousal.  

He placed light kisses on your thighs, purposely focusing on the parts he knew you disliked, hoping to prove to you that he really did care for every part of you, wrinkles and sags and all.

Meanwhile, his thumb found the most sensitive part of you as he reluctantly pulled his mouth away to move back up to the head of bed.

You immediately reached for his face, kissing him deeply through whimpers of pleasure.  “I like your sagging parts, too…”

His chuckle was soon replaced by a low groan as your own hands clumsily reached down into his sleep pants to return the favor.  

Your efforts were uncoordinated as you fought his clothing, but as the waves of your orgasm abated, he took it upon himself to kick off the offending items, readying himself over you.

“Slow,” you told him emphatically as he filled you.  “I want to tell you everything I love about you, too.”

“If you say so…” he huffed with strained humor.

You reached up to run your hands through his curls as you spoke against his mouth, delighting in his slow and gentle movements.  “You’re self-conscious about the gray… and the creases on your forehead… and the patches in your beard, but it all looks so good on you, Din.  You’ve only gotten more handsome with age.”

He could only groan against your lips.  He wasn’t sure he believed that, but stars did he appreciate that you thought so.

“And your scars - they tell your story, and I’ll never tire of tracing them to remember that you came out on the other side to me.”  Your fingers found the well-healed gash on his neck.  He hated that one in particular, but you loved it because he survived.

You were becoming a bit breathless now, too, the pleasure building again as he kept to your instruction to go slow.  It was a wonderful kind of torture.

“And that little roll of fat on your stomach… I’m the only one privileged to even know it exists… and I love that…” you said between small gasps.

He was really straining with effort now, your words having their intended effect.  His forehead pressed against yours as his thrusts became a bit more forceful even at this languid pace.  “I don’t think I can hold back anymore, Cyar’ika…”

“Then don’t, love.”

This was one of your favorite parts of him - the one that allowed himself to lose control with you.

No more words were spoken as you moved together at a more steady rhythm, and the release was that much more incredible because every bit of self-consciousness about your aging bodies had melted away in the process.

“Do you really like my scars?” he whispered against your neck when he finally went slack against you.   Ah, so he was insecure, too.

You pulled back to look at this face, smiling adoringly.  

“I love your scars.”

____________________

Thank you for reading!

#soft din djarin #din djarin fanfiction #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin x reader #din djarin x f!reader #body positivity #newpathwrites

[penvisions]

of beskar and kyber {chapter 10}

Paring: Din Djarin x Force Sensitive! Reader (the Mandalorian x Force Sensitive! Reader)

Summary: Toro Callican using a sedative to capture you has many effects, some you were all to familair with and one that is completely unexpected.

Word Count: 6.5K

Warnings: canon typical violence, canon typical gore, mention of injuries, blood, mention of past injuries, description of self-inflicted scarring, mentions of past self harm, depression, mental illness, body high, head high, angst, reader is drugged, reader is under the influence of a sedative, body dysmorphia, body image issues, feelings of uselessness, feelings of weakness, altered mental state, ptsd, arousal, sexual themes, offer of sexual favors by reader, reader is tied up, reader is held captive, talk of past sexual encounters (not detailed), argumentative dialogue

A/N: there is a lot of angst and dialogue in this! it helps to set the tone for the budding relationship between din and our dear san. please let me know what y'all think? this was a rather hard chapter to outline and i wasn't sure if it was the right pacing but i feel comfortable enough to make it an official part of the story instead of abandoned scenes that sit in a document forever

ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist

It was pitch black, when you began to come back to yourself.

Blinking your eyes open rapidly, you tried to adjust to where you were. Trying to take stock of your body and how everything felt but it was hard with so many senses taken away from you. Mind fuzzy and body feeling like your nerves were untethered. Drugged, the rational, subconscious part of your brain that was struggling to operate supplied you. It was jarring, to feel so disconnected from your body, too familiar in the way that it made you feel to weak and defeated. So much like the person you had been trying to overcome for weeks now, all of the progress you made vanished in the plunge of a needle breaking through your skin.

Weightlessness, untethered, dizzy.

Your head felt so heavy in comparison, it was hard to shift around in an attempt to piece where you were and how you got to where it was. Ropes that were knotted far too tight were around your wrists and ankles, maneuvered behind you to make the task of detangling them worse.

“Looks like you need another dose, Mando sure is taking his sweet time considering you and that thing are in danger.”

“Please,” You tried to hold your head up long enough to catch the young man’s eyes. The high of whatever he gave you all encompassing, overwhelming.

“You can’t offer me anything that’ll change my mind.”

“I’ll help you,” The words tumbled out of your mouth like you were just learning how to string sentences together, jumbled and full over your tongue that was dried out. But you needed to get them out, to convince him this was all so reckless. “I’ll help you make your name known.”

“Not interested in anything other than turning in Mando, he will make my name known.”

“He’s…strong.” The words pushed out your lungs on a harsh exhale, the ‘r’ rolling as a growl rumbled in your chest. The need to defend the man who treated you like an equal, gave you space in his ship, allowed you a way to maintain your freedom with his protection.

“He tarnished his reputation for you and that thing. Which means he’ll do anything to keep you both safe.”

Words failed you as your concentration waned, the weightlessness taking over and robbing you of all the languages you were fluent in, mind struggling as it drowned.

“See, the thing is, I think he’s going to do exactly that.” He stepped closer to you, something glinting in his hand. When you leaned your head back against the side paneling of the hold, your eyes narrowed as you tried to focus on his blurry visage. You spat the words out, trying to put as much behind them as you could.

“Or he’ll kill you.” His gloved hand descending on your cheek was loud, the force of the action whipping your head to the side and all you could do was groan and take it. Pain so dulled by the drugs in your vein that it barely registered beyond a prickling sensation.

“I’m sure he’ll want to, I know he’ll want to. But he’s got a weakness now and it’ll play out exactly like I want it to.”

There was a sharp sting that broke through the fog of the drugs, demanding attention on your exposed arm. A needle was plunged deep into the muscle in the same spot as before, Callican’s hand holding it there as he administered something into your system, the needle hurting as it moved underneath your skin. You tried to cry out, the pain troubling with how starkly you felt it but all you let out was a warbled sound before you slumped back against the wall.

The coolness of the floor was soothing on your heated skin, tears brimming in your eyes as you clawed at your arms. Trying and failing to dig out the foreign feeling that was cascading over you, your nails only succeeding in creating marks along your skin, delving no further for desperate relief. The ice-cold sensation of something traveling through your veins making you feel trapped in your own body, sweat dripping off of you as it tried to make itself feel like home again, like your own again.

You startled when a deep, modulated voice called your name. Wide eyes cast up to gauge the figure that was standing in front of you. It was vaguely familiar, your fogged up brain not able to make a definition of who it was aside from them not being a threat to you. Not caring much beyond that, you pressed your forehead flat to the ground again, the thud of it making contact reverberating all along your neck and shoulders. Groaning, you curled your legs and brought them up to your chest, hugging them close. Your arm brushed across a bandage wrapped around your thigh and you hissed as it sparked a sensation that should’ve been painful but only felt like tingles spreading across your skin.

Nerves responding to what should be pain but felt like a wave of cold prickles over your body, making you groan as they skittered all over. They didn’t do anything to combat the heat licking at your senses, if anything they made you realize how intense it felt all over again.

Vision wavering, you could hear a low buzz of something around you. Not paying it much mind, you dug your fingers into your thighs, trying to relieve the tingling that was coursing through your veins. The bandage wrinkled under your hands, pulling on the wound below and you felt the rush of blood as the cut reopened, allowing some of the intensity of the heat consuming you to wane. You signed in relief as the tingling ceased at least on that part of your body, replaced with something that was a dull throb.

Suddenly there was a weight, pulling your hands up, that insistent buzzing now louder and closer. You brought your hands up to grip at your temples, fingers digging into your hairline before you dragged them down the length of your face, over your cheeks. The action smeared a metallic tang that was too strong on your nose, and you felt your stomach lurch. Scrambling, from your side to push yourself on your knees and hang your head over the toilet basin beside you, fruitless dry heaving wracked your body.

A weight landed on your shoulders, pulling at your hair and bringing it to lay over your back away from your face. The action caused arousal to flare in the apex of your thighs, warming you even more so as you felt the need for touch so strongly, for relief from everything that was barrage on your senses, on your body. Panting with the effort it took to catch your breath, you cast a glance over your shoulder to see a shadow kneeling beside you. It was comforting, despite being so far under the fog that was occupying your mind. The thought crossed your mind that they would be able to help you, but your eyes wouldn’t focus.

Suddenly, you recalled the sensation of floating. Of being buoyant while you simply let small currents jostle your body in slow motions, swimming. The cool of salty water washing over you, surrounding you, smelling so comforting. The weightlessness of your real body intertwined with the recollection of it and you felt tears prick at your eyes as you yearned for something you had tried to forget.

“I want to go home.” You cried, voice broken and fragile, words barely spoken above a whisper. “But home doesn’t exist anymore.”

“You’re safe here, mesh’la.” He knew what you were talking about, not just the physical world you hailed from, but the feeling of childhood you both had been ripped from too soon. Things from the past that developed into complicated places and feelings, tainted by the world that was cruel to you both. He held your hair back as you cried for something that could never be again. “I’ve got you.”

As the nausea waned from you, he lifted your weak body and took you up to the space behind the control room he converted into a small room for you. A cot slotted against the right wall, the trunk he had given you up against the left, your bags and things placed atop it. As he settled you in the bed, your eyes barely opened when howling wind sounded outside the ship. The hush of sand and debris coursing through the air was loud, almost deafening and your hands gripped his arms tightly, preventing him from stepping away from you.

“Just a storm, mesh’la.” His voice was a soft display through the modulator, as he took in the wide eyes you were now looking at him with, your pupils blown out and your bottom lip caught between your teeth.

“I can’t stay with you, you’re still fighting off the sedative.”

His name sighed out on a long exhale was a good argument, but he stuck by his words.

It wouldn’t be right, to give into your request to lay beside you. He was only as strong as he could be, and he was realizing when it came to your distress he was unprepared. You were so far gone under the influence of what the medic at the small clinic had said was a sedative and muscle relaxer combination that you were most certainly high off the dose administered to you. They said it would take a few days to work out of your system, something that concerned him, but they said you should be fine. He hadn’t told them about the withdrawal you had already suffered through when he first brought you aboard. He worried for those long hours as they steadily neared.

“I’m comfortable with you, you make me feel safe.” Fingers tight around the part of his arm that didn’t don any armor, you could feel the way his muscles jumped at the contact through his shirt. It stirred arousal, to feel that underneath the armor was a person. The visage of him in nothing but his sacred helmet and sleep pants from a former time stoked flames in your lower abdomen. The broad expanse of his shoulders and chest, dark hair not a shocking but pleasant discovery that spanned across his pecs and trailed below his belly button. The way his biceps had moved as he carried you across the hold, the feel of his body against your own. The scent you had breathed deep from the crook of his neck, it was all so dizzying…so alluring, and you wanted it.  

“I know, mesh’la. But it’s for the best, I don’t want to overstep any boundaries.” His words came out even despite his muscles jumping underneath the wandering touch of your fingers as they carefully began to delve underneath the bottom of his pauldrons. He wasn’t strong enough to pry your fingers away from him despite his words saying he felt this was wrong, the play of something so pulling while you weren’t complete of mind.

“But there are none,” Your voice lilted, laughter in your tone as you smiled serenely up at him. There was something glinting in your eyes that he hadn’t seen since meeting you, something he recognized as dangerous should he ask after it. Your head knocked back, eyes roaming over his form from top to bottom as he stood beside the cot. But he didn’t need to, you gave it to him all the same in a sultry voice that he’d think about for days to come. Pitched low like it was for him and him alone. “I’d let you do anything you wanted.”

He grunted in response, feeling himself twitch below the waist. He was completely unprepared. Your eyes were so bright, your face so relaxed. Your words so earnest and alluring, the lines of your body long and enticing as you shifted atop the cot.

“I’d let you put your big, soft hands-“

“Enough!” He barked, his anxiety and worry getting the better of him. His guilt. He tore his arms out from your grasp and turned his back to the cot. Taking a deep breath to center himself, to collect himself, he could hear you shift behind him. He worried you were going to reach for him, play on his conflicting emotions in your altered state. The guilt he was feeling burned in him, to think such things of you when you had done nothing to suggest you would take from anyone in such a way. You weren’t wholly yourself right now, he was completely unprepared for who you were under the influence.

He spared one last look over his shoulder before he left and his resolve almost crumbled. Your bottom lip was trembling, your hands wrapped around yourself as you sat up, hunched over as your eyes shone with unshed tears. A complete shift from the energy you had just been using to entice him, an entire shift to your mood. Because of his reaction to it.

All he could picture for the rest of the evening as he busied himself setting up the ship to withstand a sandstorm was that last glance he had taken of you and the one of you sprawled on the bathroom floor with bloody handprints staining your face and legs as you fought against the drugs pumping through your system.  

Din could hear you stirring about, in the space of the ship beyond his personal quarters. The Child was asleep, exhausted from the unsettling events of the night. His quiet snores comforting Din in his agitated and anxious state. Sighing, he kicked the blanket from where it covered him. His armor was piled neatly beside the cot, some comfortable sleep he thought would help only resulted in him laying and staring into the darkness through the visor on his helmet.

It had been…alarming to see you ricochet back and forth between such extreme emotions. All of them amplified by the drugs in your system, something he felt tortured over, as if he had been the one to administer them to you. He sat with his legs over the edge of the cot, bare feet flat on the cool metal of the ship’s flooring. His mind replaying the events even as he tried his best to shove them out and move past them.

‘“Took you long enough, Mando.” Callican’s voice projected around the hangar.

“Looks like I’m calling the shots now.” The mechanic slowly walked out from the dark interior of the ship, steps light on the metal of the ramp. Callican behind her with a blaster shoved into her back and the Child in his arms. “Partner.”

“Drop your blaster and raise ‘em.” The younger man paused at the top of the ramp, not stepping further, with the threat aim of a blaster trained on him. Din didn’t make a sound as he tossed the blaster in his hand to the ground in front of him. It landed with a dull sound as he raised his arms out to show he was further unarmed. Slowly, he dragged his palms over his torso as he moved them up, grasping at a flare with his palm. He placed his hands on the back of his helmet, the Child cooing as if he could sense his caretaker.

“Cuff him.” He shoved the blaster into the mechanic’s back twice, urging her to move down the ramp and toward where he stood.

“You’re a Guild traitor, Mando.” Callican voiced the very thing that echoed in Din’s mind every time he was alone, but when faced with the soft coos of the Child, or a brightening of your face, it didn’t seem like such a tragic thing. “And I’m willing to bet that this here is the target you helped escape.”

“Fennec was right. Bringing you in won’t just make me a member of the Guild, it’ll make me legendary.”’

Anger at the overly confident actions of a younger man he had seen a glimpse of himself in had him shoving off from the cot. He had been fooled by the earnest attitude of Callican wanting to make something of himself, to prove to whoever had told him he would amount to nothing that he could be something, to make a difference in the world by bringing in trash that was sought after for their indiscretions with the Guild. The door of the small space hushed closed behind him as he padded toward the makeshift table.

Making sure that the ship was still locked down and there was no chance of anyone sneaking aboard or disengaging the settings, he moved about the space freely,

He hadn’t cleaned up the mess he came back to yet, so focused on getting you comfortable and making sure you were alright. That the Child was alright, not too worked up by seeing you taken down and not knowing where he had been must’ve been hard on such a young one. Ad’ika, you had begun to call him, the term holding endearment and care when it passed through your lips for the first time over the comm link. His chest had hurt at the call, the sounds of you moving about his ship comfortably, the sounds of ad’ika cooing in the background.

It had been so domestic, a feeling so foreign to him and yet….it had felt like it had always been as such. It had felt so normal, like a facet of his life that shone when spotted and simply was something his life was made of, that he was capable of. His chest had hurt… and for a fleeting moment he had thought of his parents. The fast beating of his heart had been loud in his ears as he tried to keep his voice even to a listening Callican, lest he pick too much up from the exchange. The lightweight feeling of the memory twisted into something darker as he recalled the way Callican spoke of you.

‘“But it is rather telling, which quarries you decided to keep all to yourself.” Toro smirked at him, overly confident with no reason to be. The deep scratch marks that were angry and bright on his neck displaying as much, that he could barely handle his own against a woman he ambushed and sedated.

“The one on the ship must keep your bed rather warm, seems like a good exchange for the bounty you’re missing out on.”

“She was so unsuspecting, said some really interesting stuff while the drugs were working through her system. Told me she would make it worth my while if I were to let you and this thing go.” Callican jostled the Child in his arms, causing louder sounds of distress to bounce into the tense air. 

Din seethed at the filth falling from the younger man’s mouth, baring his teeth underneath the helmet and he pictured tearing him limb from limb, pummeling him until he was nothing more than a collection of broken bones and bruises for even thinking of laying a hand you. He must’ve taken you completely off guard, to not get thrown about or struck down by your saber. The mental image had his hands fisting at his sides, of you just standing there busy with something only to be drugged and tied up all before you even knew what was happening, where he was.’

The helmet hissed as he disengaged it with a bare hand and the weight of it clunked as he set it atop the makeshift table. Running a hand through his thick locks that stretched to curl about his ears and the nape of his neck, he pressed the button that opened the panel storing the scant few kitchen wares he owned. He ignored the hotplate in favor of turning on the caf maker. It was already set up, the water full up to the line indicating it would make exactly one cup. The drawer he opened for a pod of the compressed caf was full as well, despite not being able to remember the last time he even thought of seeking them out in a marketplace or shop.

He tried to picture you flowing through an open marketplace, hair braided as it had been the last time he had seen you fully conscious and aware of your senses. Bringing the pod up to his nose to inhale the rich scent of the caf, he let his mind wander as he closed his eyes and thought of you.

Cautious but aware of your surroundings, polite but not overly talkative to vendors. Kind enough to warrant free samples and discounted prices, toting around a large collection of wares you deemed important. He wondered where you had even gotten the credits from, for the things still laid out on the makeshift table around his helmet. Smile soft and small as you tried out all the different fruits and felt the sun on your skin. But the image bled into the one he had come back to.

‘The metal rings you had been fastening into armor were scattered around the floor of the ship, crunching underneath Din’s boots as he slowly advanced inside. It was dark, all the lights and mechanisms shut off, the only light in the space was what sunlight could sneak in around his frame in the doorway. His steps faltered when he spotted your unconscious form by the ladder leading to the control room. Your hair loose and fanning around you, your hands and feet were bound with rope, the knots looking tight around them, you were on your side, arms pulled behind your back and legs bent at the knee.

Bruises could be seen up and down the length of your arms, visible without the cloak he had gotten you, it was shucked off and crumpled beside you. As if you had been fighting and someone had snatched it, pulling it from your frame forcefully. There was a prominent, irritated spot on the outside of your arm, indicative of someone stabbing a needle deep into the skin there.

Kneeling beside you, he turned started to untie the rope, but it seemed to make the knots wind tighter around your wrists. Growling low in his chest in frustration, he took the knife from inside his boot and cut it away, rubbing his fingers along the marks to sooth them as best he could. He did the same with the ties around your ankles before turning you gently onto your back with a soft call of your name.

Faint whimpering startled him, your body jostling beneath his hands as he removed the rope from around your limbs. You didn’t stir beyond that, lost to the world that the contents of the needle had plunged you into. It was then that he noticed the rip on your thigh, the deep cut already beginning to scab around blood-stained skin. It must’ve happened hours ago, but you didn’t wake.

He stayed beside you, stretching to reach over to pick up the syringe you that was discarded on the ground. It looked small in his hands, but the casing was empty, not even a stray drop rolling around inside. He gripped it tight in his palm, the leather of his gloves crinkling with the force. He pocketed it despite wanting to crush the glass in his hand, to hear the crunch of it as he destroyed the very reason you were unconscious beside him on the floor of the Crest.’

He had to concentrate on placing the pod into the machine before he activated the brew to begin, not wanting to wreck the one thing you had been comfortable enough to use as your own on the ship. He had to focus on not slamming the mug into the space below to catch it. As it began to sputter and drain the water from the storage reservoir, he leaned his hands on the lip of the small inlaid counter and hung his head. The action stretched out his shoulders, underneath his long sleeve shirt, popping where kinks had developed from his ride back into the city.

The wind howled outside of the ship and the caf dripped into the mug as he turned around and began to clean the metal rings scattered across the floor. There were hundreds of them, but he managed to get them all. The different sizes all found themselves in the same pouch, Din not having the energy to separate them. He contemplated just getting you a whole new collection when he spotted the sketches you had drawn up of what you were making. It was armor. A set of pauldrons made of chain mail you were creating yourself with the rings.

The detail and notes on the pages of a small book looked professional and it intrigued him. Is this what you had been raised to do? Or something you had taken up after leaving home, after the attack on the temple as a way to make credits? As he flipped through to the next page, he was greeted by sketches for a design that looked masculine. The top of the figure’s body only went so far as their chin, but it was dusted with scruff much like his own face was. The outline of the figure’s body an exact replica of how he would look without the bulk of the beskar armor.

He closed the book, not wanting to invade your privacy any further than he already had, but his heart was thumping rapidly in his chest as he realized you had been thinking about him.

His mind replayed the way you had been so unnervingly still even after he had untied you from your restraints. He had moved you atop his cot, hoping that you would wake and recognize that you were safe in his personal space. As he had been tending to ad’ika, talking over with the mechanic about waiting out the storm in the hangar, he had hated stepping away from where he could keep an eye and ear out for you. As he had trudged back up the ramp, it was closing and locking just as he heard your muffled cries in the fresher. He had quickly placed the small sleeping figure in the small hammock before going to you, only to find you having a fit on the floor. It had been…painful to see you so worked up and in such a state. Fingers digging into your own skin, over scars he hadn’t known you possessed, that you had carved into yourself…

He shook his head, not wanting to think about that and he began to move once again.

He gathered up all of the tools and metal pieces you had been working with and placed them in a crate, so it would all be in one place for you when you were feeling better. The caf warmed the mug he cupped with both his hands as he sat there and listened to the storm rage on.

Groaning, you stretched a handout to feel for the blanket that had fallen down by your feet. You had all but shoved it off during the night, too hot underneath its confines. You could hear ambient noise from down below, securely in your bed, in your space, in your room. All things Din had provided for you while you had been wrestling with reality while your body rode out the wave of drugs and subsequent withdrawals. You had shut yourself in the room as soon as you were alert enough to handle being on your own, embarrassment making your skin burn from the inside out and shame bubble up to join it.

Rain pelted down on the ship, pinging as thunder rumbled overhead. The sandstorm you vaguely remembered from two nights before delved into a thunderstorm in the early hours of the morning. It ate most of the day after and yesterday, allowing you an excuse to stay in your new room and keep to yourself as the ship needed to stay stationed there at the hangar. The thunder had woken you up some time ago, and you lay atop the cot trying to recall everything that had happened the last day and a half.

Your hands idly traced the scars along your thighs, the recent indents of your grappling nails, the bandage around the right one shielding a tender cut from the open air. You recalled digging your hands into the skin there, as you often did in moments of weakness, of needing to feel something other than the emotions storming inside. You recalled rubbing your hands over your face, of pressing it to the cool metal of the floor, of writhing around as fever and chills warred over the territory of your skin.

The white-hot pinpricks of anxiety could be felt over the entirety of your body, making you restless.

There was a sudden knock at the door to your space, but you turned around to face the wall your cot was pushed up against and curled up. You feigned sleep as the door opened, footsteps nearly silent as the Mandalorian entered. You could hear the rustling of his clothing as he kneeled down beside the cot, a hand resting on your shoulder.

“I know you’re awake.”

You shifted until his hand fell to the top of the blankets. You pulled the blanket up further, prompting him to stand up. You could feel his eyes roam over your form, hiding in the blankets and not daring to cut your eyes at him lest he see something you didn’t want him to in your current state. The motion caused your hair to fall over your forehead, some of it resting on your cheek.

“You’re not feeling well.” A feather light caress of bare fingers moved the fallen hair from your face, you tried not to startle too much, not having heard the man move behind you. They brushed over your forehead, feeling for something that you weren’t sure of. When he made a small remark about your temperature, you didn’t respond, continuing to stare at the wall in front of you.

“You…rejected me.” You whispered after a beat of somewhat tense silence.

“You were drugged, you were high on whatever Callican dosed you with.” His voice was even, as if he was trying to keep it from displaying too much of what was going through his own mind.

“I don’t know what you want from me. I don’t know how to tell you what I want. If I’m even allowed to…”

“I don’t want anything you aren’t willing to offer. If you wish to remain cordial, I will adhere to that. If you wish to allow casual touches, I will adhere to that. If you wish to…explore other parameters of touch, I will adhere to that.”

“You won’t. I’m tainted, I’m dirty, I’m used.”

“You are you, and I admire who that is.” He didn’t dismiss your words, the thoughts that plagued you every time you thought about the things that happened to you in your life. He took them and let them sit in the air, let you voice them even if he didn’t agree with them.

“Strength, abilities, weapons, Mandalorians put so much worth on those. Admiration on skills.”

“Listen to me and hear me,” Din’s hand reached for one of your own, bringing it up to clasp his ungloved hand with your own. His thumb brushed the back of your hand, sparking tingles down the line of your arm. He had sat himself on the edge of the cot, to reach out for you. His fingers were warm against yours, bringing forth a wash of heat up to your cheeks, coloring them for him to be witness to. That such a simple touch from him could stir such a response was dizzying. “Yes, my religion places importance on those things. But you are the most important factor. You are important to me, and I will show you in any way you wish for me to.”

“What if…I get scared…or nervous…self-conscious.”

“Then we will share the same sentiment. My body…is not perfect and I have never shared any part of myself with anyone. Well…” He trailed off, modulator relaying a deep exhale the told you of his trepidations and worries.

You shifted under the blankets, sitting up to face him. His armor was gleaming in the faint light, and you wondered if he had tended to it recently. It was a comforting image, of him sitting at the makeshift table, armor in hand as he gave it all his attention and meticulously buffed out any indentations or scratches, polishing it to make it shine. The love he had for the precious metal of his people, the adoration he placed on caring for it, the pride he took in wearing a full suit of it, of having been the one to return so much of it to his own people.

You mulled over his words, aware that it was a conversation that needed to happen. Some things that needed to be addressed, on both your parts. You lifted your eyes from the cuirass over his chest, to the visor with a slightly furrowed brow. He needed to speak plainly, as did you.

“Yes, you have.”

“Yes, that... I have, but only a handful of times. With consenting partners and with nothing in mind other than chasing a base need.” His words were expected, he was a grown man, free to be who and what he wanted within the parameters of his Creed. You didn’t fault him, but it just made all of your own feelings so much more complicated, jealously flaring at the idea of him with another person, touching another person, wanting another person. You pushed it down, not willing to delve into that just yet.

“This is new… for me…these feelings. These desires,” You ducked your head, bashful. His other hand reached up and tucked under your chin, bringing your head back up for him to rest the forehead of the helmet against your own. When he leaned back, the heat of his gaze through the visor was scorching, the direct attention making you flustered paired with your confession. “And I know that might be…daunting for you. A big…commitment…for you.”

“My life is about commitments, for my Creed, for my people, for my work.” His hand squeezed around yours, bringing them to hold to his chest. The armor was cool against your skin, but it was nice to combat the flush you were suddenly overcome with. You felt your breath get caught in your throat as he paused to gather his thoughts. “I would be honored to make one to you. If you’d allow me to.”

The tears were sudden, the feeling of being seen, of connecting with someone.

Two more days of the incessant storm brought thunder, pelting rain, and blinding washes of sand over the city before it lightened up. You had remained in your room most of the time, body still going through the motions working the drugs out. Din gave you the space you needed but had asked you each time he fed ad’ika if you wanted to join them for the meal. It brought a smile to your tired features to see the small child enjoy spending time surrounded by you both, safe and happy.

The tabac was soothing as you inhaled deeply, a thin cigarra held between two fingers. A bad habit, one that you had only picked up to stave off the feelings of loneliness, something to fill the void that had been your life on the run. Slipping to the market for a quick trip while there was a lull with the storm with a quick wave to Din had allowed you the opportunity to track some down. He had been busy, nodding at you as he held a large panel of metal for Pelli to weld to the side of the ship. A large piece of debris picked up by the strong winds had grated harshly and caused some damage.

“Don’t.” Was all you said as you felt a figure come around the side of the ship toward you.

“Wasn’t going to say anything.”

“It’s a bad habit, I know. But it’s helping,” You blew the smoke out with a long exhale, watching as it wafted in the still prevalent wind. “With the withdrawals.”

The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, it was just a lull as you both mulled over things in your respective minds.

“I think I’m through the worst of it, might take ad’ika to the marketplace to get something hot for dinner.”

“He’d like that,”

“Maybe…you could come too?”

“He’d like that too.”

“And you?” A gentle, hesitant question.

“I’d like that.” His voice rumbled closer that it had just moments ago as he stepped toward you, one of his arms reaching. His gloved hand was a comfort as it brushed your bare arm, fingerless gloves and vambrace left atop the crate in your room. Warmth bloomed in your chest as you turned away from him to take a long pull of the cigarra.

“Hmm, but I’m paying.” Mouth lifted up at one corner as you smirked over at him, eyes taking in the shine of his armor in the dull light of the suns.

“Is that right?”

“You gave Pelli everything you had, everything you took off Callican, no?”

“The mechanic?”

“Please tell me you knew her name.” A stern edge to your voice had Din’s stomach jolting as he gazed at you through the visor. You had never used a tone like that with him and it was rather endearing to know you were comfortable enough to do so now.

“She didn’t introduce herself.” Was his flat response and you snorted at the way he worded it.

“Neither did you! You strutted down the ramp and fired on that poor droid as greeting.”

“That droid was going to mess something up, didn’t you notice how shifty it was?”

“Shifty? Kriff, Din, you’re…something.”

“So are you, mesh’la.” His hand that had been caressing you gripped and turned you. His other reaching out to knock the last bit of the cigarra from your hands to the ground where he scuffed it out with his boot. You let him move you, wanting to see what he was up to, how he played along with your harmless teasing. You let him pull you to him, chest to chest and he rested the forehead of the helmet against your own. “Something good.”

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dividers by the lovely @/saradika, saradika-graphics

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[idungoofed]

Wrapped in his arms - Dins Perspective

A/N: Woah so firstly I wanna say I am truely blown away and super grateful with the response Wrapped In His Arms has got! Thank you everyone who has interacted, commented and reblogged my little fic, I love you all🥰 Secondly, writers block really do be kicking my arse this past month. I was on a real roll there for a bit but now it’s like any progress I made has just *poof* vanished. I’ve had so many new ideas but actually righting them? Nope. So to try ease myself back in here’s Wrapped In His Arms but from Din’s perspective. Could it be better? Yes, most definitely, but words are hard right now and this is my way of pushing through, and anyway the edit button is there for a reason! Hope y’all enjoy!

Warnings: some violence at the beginning but brief, no use of Y/N, soft! Din, helmetless Din, no reader description, some swear words.

Word count: 777

_____

The Mandalorian dragged the dead weight of his bounty up the ramp of the Crest, his footfalls heavy with exhaustion after three days of tracking the wanted Trandoshan through dense, humid forests and watery marshland.

The body Din hauled into the ship was cold. The reptilian man had made sure to rid himself of the choice to board the crest warm or cold when he drew his blaster. A lucky shot had skimmed between the beskar plates protecting Dins body, grazing his thigh. A shallow cut, easily treated with the bacta spray you’d made sure he took with him.

The pain had ridded Din of his fatigue and reminded him of his need to finish the hunt, the need to be back on his ship, to be back with you.

He didn’t give his opponent another chance to shoot, firing a single shot the Trandoshan fell, a smoking hole left in his skull.

Din placed the body in the carbon chamber, and initiated the freezing process. Walking through the hull of the crest he began removing his armour, leaving a trail of beskar leading to his bunk.

Pressing the door release, his breath caught in his throat as his eyes land on your sleeping figure. You lay on your side facing the metal wall, mumbling something in your sleep.

He stood there, able to see you clearly in the dim lighting through his visor. He watched how you sighed in your sleep, how your eyelashes flittered against your cheeks in a dream, your hands clenched around the sheets.

The lights were dim enough that if you woke he would only be a silhouette. Din brought his hands up to the lip of his helmet that softly hissed as he released the mechanism, placing it on a storage crate next to the door.

Still he stood on the threshold, torn between taking that step of making himself vulnerable to you, or retreating as he has before. Surely it’s better to not know and leave his heart intact?

He sighed, deciding not to disturb you, and turned to head to the cockpit.

That was until you spoke in your sleep again, only one word, but this time louder.

“Din.”

His name falls from your lips in a sigh, one he would hear again and again if you’d let him. Unable to resist the gravitational pull of you he sits on the edge of the bed, his hip nudging your back.

You fling an arm out, attempting to ward off whatever disturbed your sleep and Din captures your hand in his, still bound in their gloves, causing you to let out a small cry.

“It’s me, Din” he says soothingly, rubbing small circles in the back of your hand with his thumb.

You say his name, voice groggy with sleep. “You’re back.”

He can hear the smile and warmth that flows into your voice at realising he’s there, making his heart clench. Do you know what you do to him? How easily you make him feel like he can be worthy of you.

You reach up, and Din sucking in a breath waiting for you to realise his face is bare to you. Your finger tips brush along his jaw before you’re retracting it too soon.

“Shit- Din, your helmet!”

He hears the worry in your voice- you were always so careful to not break his creed, something he felt you probably cared more for than he did these days. He needs this, he realises, too long has he denied himself the simplicities of touch.

“It’s okay.” He says, “You can’t see me and … I need… this.” He furrows his brow, squeezing his eyes shut wishing he said you. He needs you.

But as always you seem to know. He sees the shadow of your hand come back, and he leans into your caress, letting out a breath he didn’t realise he’d been holding.

He hears you move below, then you’re tugging him down to lay beside you. As soon as his body joins you on the small bedroll you burrow into his side, as if you need him as much as he needs you.

He wraps his arm around your body, pulling you close. Words had never been Dins strong point, and even now they failed, the ones that did come taste bland on his tongue. Not good enough, not enough to describe how you owned his heart.

He turns, lips brushing against your forehead in a soft kiss. A simple action he poured the unspoken words into instead. One day he would speak them, but for now this was enough. It had to be.

_____

Thanks for reading!💕

#fan fiction #fan fic #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin fluff #din djarin x gender neutral reader #soft din djarin #the mandalorian x you #mando fanfiction #mando x reader #mando fluff #Pedro Pascal #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal fanfiction

[zialltops]

Sunshine

Word count: 80.3K

Chapters: 25/25

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: DinxReader

Soft din djarin | hurt comfort | force sensitive reader | teacher reader | virgin din djarin | din djarin removes the helmet | extremely taylor swift coded

Description: The story of how Din got the girl and the life he's always longed for. (A quiet one)

Or, the cute little teacher AU that spiraled out of control and taught us all about self love.

✨Welcome to Din’s Lover era✨

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[constellation-em]

'You Never Asked Him What It Meant' - Din Djarin/Reader

This is a snippet from a WIP of mine- reader has lost Din, and a wandering woman has just asked if they would like her to wait with them. I'm not so good at writing full blurbs but want to practice more, so I figured I would get this small piece out. Please leave feedback! I need it lol, writing fanfiction is a lot different than the literary analysis like I'm used to.

words: 1.1k

warnings: language

feedback wanted!

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

"No, I just- He'll find me but- I don't even know where the ship is, oh Maker I'm screwed!" Your sobs returned, it felt like the air had been pulled out of your lungs by the fear that always sat in you when Din went after a bounty. What if he didn't come back? You couldn't fly the ship. You couldn't fight. You were just a glorified engineer and medic, basically kept on to keep the ship clean. Why did Din even keep you around?

You liked to think it was because he had taken a liking to you. You had been working on his ship with him for over a year at this point- hired off Nevarro when Karga decided you needed something better to do than slinging drinks. Din hated you at first. He ignored you, and just let you do your own thing. It wasn't until he came back with a stab wound in his dominant arm that your talents came to light.

What he had been told: You could fix a ship in a pinch, and do housework. Not to mention your cooking was not too shabby. "She'll hold you accountable," Karga had said.

What he hadn't been told (and what Greef Karga didn't know, and would never know): You had been getting paid under the table to patch up bounty hunters when things went awry for them. You knew your way around a medkit with your eyes closed.

Din couldn't fix his own arm, much to his demise. He tried, you heard his grunting from inside the cockpit. To be honest, you had been a bit concerned at first that maybe something… less than savory was happening.

"Hey," He had yelled, "You know how to cauterize? Or even use a kriffing bactapad?" You had walked in, and he was a sore sight. Like… a really sore sight. He was sitting in the pilot's chair, facing sideways from the door, hunched over into almost a ball. There was a deep laceration on his right shoulder, and blood caked all around it and his hand.

His hand. That was the first thing you saw, his gloveless hand. This was the first time you had seen any of his skin. Up to this point, you weren't sure he was human. Hell, you didn't even know his name. The next thing you saw was his beskar armor, thrown onto the ground. Normally he was gentle with it, almost reverent. Then you noticed his flight suit.

Pulled down off his shoulder, down his arm, and hanging half off his back. Unzipped and his chest in full view. This couldn't be compliant with his Creed. Could it?

"I- yeah. I'll grab my medkit."

"No need." He grunted, pointing at the box sitting next to him.

"Mando, there's no numbing spray in there. Mine has some, let me grab it. Keep pressure on the wound."

"I said. No need." You could hear the anger in his voice. It wasn't meant to be directed at you; you knew that. It still stung though.

"Alright. But it's gonna hurt." You moved towards him, kneeling on the ground at his side. There wasn't a lot in his medkit. It seemed well-used. There was at least enough to disinfect, cauterize, and cover with a bactapad.

"Good." That made you pause. What did he say? Did he say good? Maker, did Karga stick you on a ship with a psychopath? Or… was it something sadder than that? Did he feel like he deserved it? As you moved to grab his arm, he stiffened up. "Sorry. Not used to… this. Getting help."

"S'okay. Just let me do my thing, Mando, and you'll be good as new." He relaxed a little bit, shoulders falling as he let out a breath. "This spray is gonna be cold. Just a warning." You grabbed the small bottle, giving it a small shake. Good. Mostly full. Although you figured you wouldn't need much, seeing as he literally said good to it hurting. You pointed it at the cut, giving it a spray.

"Dank Farrik! Fuck!" He jerked out of your grip, grabbing his arm and hissing with pain.

"Shit shit shit shit I'm sorry Mando I tried to tell you-" Fuck you had warned him right? He paused, and tilted his head towards you.

"Keep going."

"Say again?"

"Keep. Going." So you did. You gave him another spray, and you grabbed the cauterizer. Every sound you made caused him to stiffen up, and every time you grabbed his arm again he relaxed. It was a never-ending cycle of cusses and hisses and gentle shushing.

By the time you finished and applied the bactapad, his breathing had settled down to a normal pace. You looked up at him from your place on the floor. He was silent, which wasn't uncharacteristic of him, but you were worried. What if he was mad at you for helping him? He had asked, but still. What if he fired you, sent you back to working at a shitty guild bar and dealing with flirtations of douchey bounty hunters? You couldn't go back there. You wouldn't.

"Thank you." It was a small sound, a barely heard sentence. You weren't even sure you heard it come out of his mouth, until he turned to face you directly. His hands reached out and grabbed your shoulders, thumbs lightly stroking them.

"It's nothing, you were hurt… I couldn't let you suffer like that Mando." He tilted his head towards yours, the cold beskar of his helmet pressing against your forehead. You weren't sure, but you thought maybe this meant he was warming up to you.

"My name is Din. You should know that… if you're going to be my medic." Oh. Oh. You weren't even expecting a thank you out of him. And he gave you his name? You didn't ask for it; he bared it to you, just as he bared his soul when asking for help, when showing you his scarred and wounded skin. "Will you? Be my medic? I wish Karga had told me about your skills before… that piece of bantha shit keeps so many secrets." This was a new side of Man- Din. You had never seen him so talkative.

"I- yeah. Yeah Din. I'll be your medic. From now until you get tired of me. If that's okay?" You chuckled against his helmet, and if you heard right, he did too.

"Of course. Of course it's alright cyar'ika."

You never asked him what that meant.

thank you for reading!

#din djarin fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #star wars #din djarin/reader #din djarin x reader #no y/n #fanfiction #star wars fan account #star wars fic #din djarin #soft din djarin #mostly exposition tbh #no beta we die like mandalorians

[floral-force]

Omg 1st off I LOVE your writing! It’s soo amazing, I strive to write more this year and you’re the reason! But can we get some nervous Din? Basically reader is the FULL PACKAGE (wink wink) you know with their knowledge of combat, weapons, basically just badass. Meanwhile Din is LOVIN it and is just a wreck what it comes down to it! You don’t have to do this but if you do it would be appreciated <3

thank you so much for the compliment--it means so much that I've motivated you to write. please do it!!! bless the world with your words!!!

I tried my best with this!! I'm just such a sucker for soft!din that it kind of spilled out of me. I think din would just admire a skilled and badass partner and want to just soak in their presence. I hope you enjoy this!!

(requests are open! search the tags #prompt requests or #prompts and send me an ask!)

Misjudgments

din djarin x gn!reader

summary: Din Djarin reluctantly agrees to work with a partner on a hunt, and they turn out to be incredibly skilled in bounty hunting. They make him a nervous wreck, something that never happens to him. But, maybe there's more to Din's mixed emotions than he realizes...

words: 1.9k+

warnings/tags: my blog is 18+ ONLY/NO MINORS, bounty hunter reader, soft!din djarin, mention of orgasms, din is bad at feelings, mentions of canon-typical violence

read on ao3 | masterlist

Din had been so resistant to the idea of having a partner on a hunt, but Greef refused to take no for an answer. He agreed in the end; he figured he owed the man a favor because Greef had set aside a puck for Din that had a big payout. After he got the credits, he’d been able to afford not only refueling the Crest, but a few thermal detonators, a new vibroblade, and a fresh bar of soap—all luxuries he rarely indulged unless absolutely necessary. So, Din had sighed and nodded, Greef introduced Din to his partner, and then they were off. 

He hadn’t expected his unwanted accomplice to be as—if not more—capable than him. They’d boarded the Crest with an overstuffed backpack and a long duffel bag, a wry smile on their face, and an attractive body that made Din gulp and blush. How could he not notice their looks when they carried themselves with the confidence of a skilled and seasoned hunter? Karga had told Din how many years they’d been in the Guild after he asked the question for a third time, and Din had groaned at the answer. The person was still an amateur compared to him.

It certainly didn’t appear that way when Din descended the ladder from the cockpit to the cargo hold and saw them sitting on the floor taking apart their sniper rifle. It was a model Din had seen before in a couple shady, back-alley shops on Coruscant and slung over the backs of one or two other Guild members, but the one his partner was dissembling had a few modifications Din didn’t recognize. Din watched their hands deftly take it apart, moving with a level of precision only acquired by years of practice and experience he knew didn’t match the number Karga had told him. It was hypnotizing to watch them pull and twist the pieces apart and gently place them on the black canvas pad in front of their legs. The corner of his mouth twitched upwards when he saw the way their brow was furrowed with focus and their lips set in a hard line.

“Are you going to stand there all the way to Jakku?”

Their curt voice snapped Din out of his trance, and he crossed his arms. “No, I—um,” he got flustered when they looked up at him with questioning eyes and cleared his throat. “That rifle. How did—”

“How did I get it?” they finished his question with a tired sigh and a roll of their eyes. Their thumb tapped the piece in their hand, and Din watched it with eager eyes. “I bought it, that’s how,” they snapped, looking back down at the pieces in front of them.

There was a pause, Din’s helmet trained on them as they set the piece back down. Their hands were still for only a few seconds before they reached to the right and grabbed a can of oil with a thin spray nozzle. Irritation painted their face as they picked up a sleek black piece, inspecting it before shaking the can and giving a part of the piece a quick blast of oil.

“It’s a 773—”

“773 Firepuncher,” they snapped, their voice overlapping Din’s. They picked up its scope. “I bought it after my first hunt. I’m not a fan of getting too close to my quarries. This guy—” they gave Din a quick smile— “is my best friend.”

He crossed his arms. “Those aren’t easy to come by.”

“They are when you have a network, but I doubt you talk enough to have one.”

Din tilted his head at the snide remark, almost letting it slide because of the way they bit their lip and smiled to themselves. Their shoulders jumped with a suppressed laugh that should have made Din mad, but it only made his cheeks and ears turn red under the beskar. Clearly, they knew their way around their weapon—but any good hunter should. As they set down the scope and picked up the rag on their left, wiping off their fingers, he shifted and thought of something smart to say.

“So, you don’t like getting your hands dirty?” he probed.

“Oh, I will, I just think it’s…” They looked up at the ceiling and waved their hands around, searching for a word in the air. “Unproductive.” They hummed and picked up a part of the barrel. “Yeah, that’s the word. Unproductive.”

“You can just be honest and say you’ve broken your hand throwing a punch,” he shrugged. 

They laughed mirthfully. “I learned how to fight before I started hunting, Mando. Not all of us can hide underneath beskar.” 

Din’s skin went hot under his.

They looked up at him with mischievous eyes and an endearing smirk. They looked back down at their occupied hands and shrugged, tracing a finger over the barrel’s ridges and lines. 

“I just thought it’d be idiotic to start hunting while still training. Luckily, I started young—way too young, I think,” they added, eyebrows knitting together, something hard settling across their attractive features.

Din cleared his throat and leaned back against the ladder, hoping to relate on some level with them. “I began my training as a child after I was rescued by my covert.”

“I held a blaster for the first time when I was 13,” they stated.

“I think I was 11.”

They shook their head and exhaled with wide eyes. “Damn, Mando,” they chuckled, giving him a smile. “You’ve got me beat there.”

They looked back down at their work and gave the barrel a few more moments of consideration before setting it down and fiddling with the stand. Din kept quiet, observing them in silence once again. He couldn’t decide if his heart was racing from their smart quips pushing his buttons or from shy nerves. He wasn’t inclined to find out, but he did know that he’d changed his mind about them. They weren’t the incompetent, young hunter Din had thought them to be; no, it was quite the opposite. They were hardened from experiences they shouldn’t have had to go through, tough as nails, and wittier than anyone Din had ever met. They made his gloved palms clammy and left him flustered. But he didn’t hate it. Maybe he liked it. Maybe he liked them, or maybe he just envied them. But he had time to decide—their hunt hadn’t even started yet.

“Have you ever used a 773?” they asked, something in their voice wavering. They looked up at him with expectant eyes, hoping for a certain answer. What that answer was, Din couldn’t tell; he just hoped he’d give them the right one.

“Can’t say I have.” 

Din waited on edge, hoping he’d answered them correctly. They nodded and their eyes darted to the black canvas, fingers tapping against the piece in front of them. When they looked back up at Din, they gave him a soft smile that he didn’t think they were capable of. Even more surprising was that he liked it.

“Would you, um,” they bit their lip and cleared their throat. “Would you like to learn more about it? Maybe try it out when we land?”

Din was…flattered. All the hunters he knew were incredibly protective of their weapons, only sharing when absolutely necessary and always asking for everything back once the job was done. Yet here they were, offering him a piece of themselves. It threw him for a loop, but then again, this hunter was full of surprises. 

When he silently nodded, they gave him an excited smile. Din dragged over a light cargo box—kriff, he needed more rations—and plopped down in front of them, leaning forward and urging them to start talking with a wave of his hands. They eagerly began, their sentences sprinkled with nervous stutters and awkward glances. Din enjoyed it, smiling under his helmet at how their face lit up while describing an impressive shot they’d made with the rifle. For once, Din was glad he’d made a misjudgment. Maybe a partnership with them wouldn’t be that bad. Who knows—maybe he’d want to keep them around for more than this hunt.

Months later, after finishing their sixth consecutive hunt together, he told them how that moment lit a small flame inside his chest. Din held their hand in his as he told them that he’d smiled.

“You actually smile under that thing?” they teased, earning a shake of Din’s head. 

“I only smile at you,” he clarified. 

They pulled their hand away and raised their arms over their head, stretching their body with a cute grimace. They’d been occupied with their rifle for a good while now; it was an anxious habit of theirs. So, he’d decided to keep them company. It would be a while before they got to Nevarro, and Din enjoyed talking to them anyways.

“That’s—mm—good, Din.” 

Their comment was interrupted with a tiny groan from their stretch that tickled Din’s heart. Their eyes met Din’s visor and their hands dropped to the metal floor before picking up a piece of their rifle. He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, drinking them in with thirsty eyes.

Din could never get enough of them. He was forever parched now that he’d had a taste of them after their third hunt. They’d been forced to drop their rifle and engage the quarry in a fight, and Din had found them with their knee on top of the Trandoshan quarry. As they put the cuffs on the quarry, they gave Din a coy smile, shrugging their shoulder to try and rub sweat off their cheek. In that moment, Din knew he wanted them, knew that the way they made him blush and stutter wasn’t due to him feeling insecure. No, he was attracted to them, and he needed them.

Later, they both came together on the floor of the Crest, their voices harmonizing in ecstasy, chests heaving in unison. Din was sweating under the helmet, the rest of his body bare and hot under their touch.

He didn’t even have to ask if they’d stay with him a little bit longer. The look in their gorgeous eyes told him all that he needed to know.

So here he sat, watching them grease their rifle yet again. Din would never get tired of watching it. Every time he saw them make a clean shot or save his ass on a hunt with quick thinking and excellent aim, his heart hammered in his chest and made him want them even more. Din’s knees went weak for them, and words failed him. 

But he couldn’t tell them all of that just yet. He’d tell them later in bed after they brought in the quarry from their most recent hunt. Din hoped they didn’t hate the room he’d booked at Nevarro’s small inn. Din hoped he wasn’t misjudging their feelings, too. They were the only person in the galaxy who could make Din care enough to feel his heart hammering in his chest. 

“Din? You here with me?” they asked, smiling.

He nodded. “Yeah, yeah. I’m here, I promise.”

“Good, you went all stiff and silent. I was nervous for a second there,” they admitted.

“Don’t worry,” he said softly. “I’m not going anywhere.”

They beamed at him, making his heart skip a beat. Kriff, he loved the way they made him feel. How could he ever leave someone as incredible as them?

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[awholelottayeehaw]

KINKTOBER DAY 5: Fucking Machine -Part 2 (Preview)

I'm so sorry everyone for being late on posting The Middle Part 1, between a doctor's appointment, having to go to the local courthouse to explain YET AGAIN why I can't participate in jury duty as a disabled person on welfare due to a low paying career, and my oven breaking on top of some of my students needing a tutoring session on Saturday, I've been exhausted but I plan on posting The Middle Part 1 by tonight and here's a sneak preview of another fic coming out this upcoming Friday as an apology and to give you something to look forward to!

You had many problems, and delayed responses were definitely a few of them.

You weren’t sure if too much time had passed, but the moment you decided to reciprocate Din’s touches and stares, the man pulled back. He stopped touching you and started to actively avoid any room you were in. It was as if that month of pining never happened, and the sudden isolation left your head and heart empty wondering if maybe you had done something wrong. It was so bad, some days when you came back from work you were genuinely surprised that The Mandalorian and Grogu hadn’t packed their things and left. But regardless, the rejection stung with a touch of humiliation that you’d never admit out loud but held close to your heart.

That isolation is what guided you to punch in the coordinates for the nearest planet with the lie on your lips of having a job there that would require your time for a few hours. You noticed that had made Din’s shoulders slump a little in relief, and that only added salt to the rejection and hurt. But the warrior's touches and stares had also left you horny and your fingers and the vibrator you had on your nightstand just weren't doing the trick. That’s how you found yourself at the only brothel on the planet, taken aback by the fact that it was run by droids with the only prostitutes available being the robotic kind, and embarrassingly staring at the droid before you that had the most realistic pussy you had ever seen on something that hadn’t been assigned female at birth.

After turning down another droid with a similar physique but with a, quite frankly, impressive erection instead of a vagina; the female droid led you to a section of the brothel where a private room was waiting for you. You couldn't help the heat that crept to your cheeks and ears at the sounds of sentient species coupling with droids or whatever they paid to be with as you passed rooms by. You also couldn't help the way it made your pussy pulse with need and grow wetter with each step, or how the clench of your thighs did very little to relieve the feeling growing within your groin.

To be released on Friday, February 17th.

Tag List:

@avatarkanemi @yourcoolauntie (MJ babe I couldn't remember if you wanted to be tagged or not so I'm including you just let me know if you want to be removed)

#the mandalorian fanfiction #soft din djarin #din djarin #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin smut #mando #the mandalorian #Kinktober 2022 #the mandalorian smut

[sandzlib]

Bounty hunting is a complicated profession

Din Djarin/Reader | Mature | F/M | Sneak peek | Chapter 1, part 1

What if, instead of finding The Child in Arvala-7, the Mandalorian had found a girl?

But you were not just a normal girl, you had certain abilities (or powers as some called them) that made you the most wanted being in the universe.

Will this mandalorian be a friend or another foe?

Read Complete Work on AO3

You were on your way to have lunch, just outside the repair facility where you worked, when you heard them. Tie fighters. Before you had time to react, to run or to hide, the explosion hit you and you were thrown across the street and against a wall.

Chaos surrounded you. There were cries, dust, and smoke everywhere. You tried to lift yourself from the ground and that's when your head started spinning and you lost consciousness.

Your ears were still ringing from the explosion when you opened your eyes. You instantly regretted it, as bright light hit you and hurt your pupils while you tried to focus your surroundings.

You were in a cell of what looked like a ship and your hands were cuffed.

You sat up slowly, fighting the nausea, when you were surprised to see an imperial soldier moving on the outside of your cell.

Wait a second, surprised?

How on earth could it have surprised you? You should have been able to feel his presence before seeing him… That was awfully strange… but well, you had hit your head pretty hard and you weren't really focused…

Thus, you decided to try to feel him, focussing strongly on your surroundings, on the soldier you now knew was on the other side of the cell, and… nothing.

What was going on?

It was weird how much you were panicking now. Up until this point you had managed to stay calm even though you had almost been killed, some of your ribs were clearly fractured, your head hurt, your ears were ringing, and you had been captured by the empire. But now, you had noticed you lacked a sense, your sixth sense, probably your most important sense, since it helped you see when you were blind, hear when you were deaf, feel everything around you... and you felt alone, helpless.

To top it all off, you were feeling weak, extremely weak.

You tried to move again and you noticed something hard pressing on your neck, you lifted your hands and felt your way around what seemed to be some kind of collar. You couldn't see it, so you didn't know what it was, but you could hear it buzzing. Could that be what was causing the loss of your abilities?

Damn. This was all your fault and you knew it.

When the news of the Empire's fall had reached you, you allowed yourself to believe them. To believe that you could, at last, be free and live a normal life, settle in some remote planet, and not worry about the Empire and the Inquisitors ever again.

Not having to run away sounded so good you allowed yourself to hope… and where had that hope taken you? Into an Empire's cell.

You didn't know how long you'd been there when yet another explosion happened. The trooper, alarmed by it, left the cell bay in hopes of supporting his comrades. You had no idea what was going on, but you could hear the sound of blasters and the soldiers shouting to each other.

Until everything was silent.

"Let's see what we have here" said a male voice when the doors to the cell bay opened. Slave traders. Great. You had already dealt with the likes of them before — been sold by them to be more specific — so you knew there was nothing to be done.

You had to admit a part of you had hoped the New Republic had intercepted the ship, but clearly it wasn't your lucky day (or year, or lifetime).

"Oh, looks like we've hit the jackpot!" He said looking at you "we'll be able to sell you for quite a good amount". You looked at him in the eye, a defiant expression on your face. "Don't look at me like that sweetheart, business is business" he said as he turned around and left.

When the ship landed, they took you to a cell inside of what looked like a hangar. After what felt like a lifetime, one of the slave traders came into the room. He looked more distinguished than the ones that had taken over the ship. His clothes were sophisticated, and his demeanour let you know he was higher class. Probably the head of the organisation.

“You’ve been bought by a very esteemed client of mine” he said "I expect you to behave properly and fulfil all his wishes. His personal guards will get you and escort you to your new home." As he said this four Nikto came in to get you.

You did not fight them, not only because you had no energy left in your body, but because there was no escaping from there. Maybe later, with less people around… but not now.

They took you to another ship and chained you in there. You were exhausted, you had not eaten anything since the tie fighters' attack, and you could barely stand. You sank to the floor and started dozing off.

When you landed, the Nikto awoke you and started pulling from your chains to get you out of the ship. You looked around and saw nothing but sand. You were in what looked like a desert planet which reminded you of Breeka, where you had been sold as a slave many years ago.

What was with desert planets and their love of slave trading?

You were taken inside a building which admittedly looked better on the inside than the outside. The Nikto guards led you through a hall until you reached a door where two other Nikto stood. They opened it and you walked inside a very big room. On ahead of the door was a table and a man sitting in front of it. He looked like the boss, a warlord you assumed, taking everything into account.

A part of you was glad that he was human and not another Nikto or something worse, like a Hutt. You were going to find out soon enough that evil could take any form and be of any species.

#the mandalorian #mandalorian fanfic #din djarin x reader #din djarin x female reader #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin #eventual romance #eventual smut #mando x female reader #mando x reader #soft din djarin #ao3 fanfic

[penvisions]

sneakie peek for {of beskar and kyber}

uh, so my gym location is closed for deep cleaning and installation of new equipment until the 18th. i expect to be writing a lot more to try and keep myself busy bc that effectively took away an hour and a half of my set schedule each day.

going to try and go on walks to keep up with movement, but it's so dark and cold so early here in tn, idk how well that will work haha. heres' a snippet from the giant chunk of writing that happened just this morning:

“And I will protect him at any cost. Protect you at any cost.” He regarded you quietly, taking in the way you slammed the crate closed and began to pace back and forth in the small space. You were wound up, the clasps on the trunk tinkling as they vibrated, his eyes glancing at them and then toward your clenching hands. The energy flowing off of you was palpable and for a second, he was in awe of the natural way you manipulate it without even thinking. You had forgone hiding your powers in favor of giving Xi’an the same treatment she had treated you with, it had been rather telling of your emotions to push back against her so easily. “I didn’t know they’d need the ship.”

“I-I don’t like this. It’s too much of a risk.”

“I understand that you’re afraid-“

“Of course I’m afraid! My entire fucking life has been thrown off by the Empire and one of the people who served for them is aboard the ship!”

The errant items around the room were floating in the air with the energy from your emotions. You didn’t even notice you had been causing it until Din stepped closer to you and reached out for you. You glared at him and before you could say anything, he was gripping your face in his gloved hands and stooping in low to peer directly at you. The visor so close that you could see the reflection of your panicked eyes staring back at you. You looked so scared, face contorted in a concerning display.

#dev talks #dev writes #fic: of beskar and kyber #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fic #din djarin #din djarin fic #din djarin fanfic #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x force sensitve! reader #soft din djarin #comforting din djarin #star wars #star wars universe

[idungoofed]

Yoooo! Started writing this last night and finished this morning. Not proof read, just something that came to mind and wanted to get it down. I’ve been so damn busy with wedding stuff and family drama resulting from it I’ve just had no energy or brain space to try write a full fic. And as it’s been SO LONG since I last tried to write something, when this scene with Din popped into my head last night I’ve ran with it. Probably doesn’t read great but here ya go anyway. 💕 (PS I’ve edited this multiple times as the read more cut keeps disappearing, so I’m sorry if this is a long block of writing on your feed.)

The beskar lifts and warm brown eyes meet your own.

You stare openly at the man before you, as although you knew him, his face had been a mystery to you till now.

You take everything in, finally filling in the picture you had in your head of the person who’d utterly and completely captured your heart. The shade of brown of his curls you’d ran your fingers through in the dark, the bow of his lips as they’d pressed to yours, and of the beard, flecked with grey hairs that had skimmed against your inner thighs.

Your eyes meet his again, and the worry line between them deepens.

You hadn’t said anything yet- too wrapped up in the discovery of his beauty to form words.

He closes his eyes, taking your silence not as admiration, but indignation. The scars that litter his skin, a reminder of who he is and those he’d killed, he was older than you, his skin not as supple as it once was, his scruffy beard he’d been meaning to tend - how could you be happy with what you saw?

You watch as the man tips his head forward, and his shoulders slump, as if defeat was washing through him. You realise your mistake.

Cautiously you bring a hand up to cup his warm cheek, he leans in to it, the simple contact of your skin like a drug to him. You step closer, and his arms wrap around your waist as you bring you other hand to rest against his other cheek.

His eyes still closed, now a deep furrow set between his brows. You place a gentle kiss on this, before bringing your lips down to meet his. He sighs into it, the tension leaving his body in an instant as he kisses you back.

You pull away but stay wrapped in each others embrace. Your eyes meet once again.

“You’re beautiful, Din.” You say, only loud enough for him to hear

He lets out breath and shakes his head. “You don’t have to… it’s okay if you don’t want-“

You silence him with a brush of your lips to his. “There’s nothing more that I want in the universe except you. It’s only you, Din.”

His arms tighten around you, your hands still resting against his face as your fingers brush the tips of his curls around his ears as he leans his forehead against yours.

You take a breath and start to speak, “Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome…”

____

Thanks for reading! 💕

Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome… = We are one when together, we are one when parted…” (The beginnings of the Mandalorian marriage vows.)

#i miss writing #and being on here in general #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian #the mandolorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian fluff #fan fiction drabble #fanfic drabble #mando x reader #mando x you #din djarin #din djarin x you #soft din djarin #helmetless din #din x you #din djarin fanfic #din djarin fluff

[wild-karrde]

I would like to recommend the Grogu's Teacher mini-series by @firstofficerwiggles, it's so sweet and fluffy and it holds a special place in my heart, and I'm sure Din lovers with a soft spot for fluff will enjoy this read!

SWEET AND FLUFFY DIN FIC YOU SAY? *frantically adds to reading list* It has been a MINUTE since I've read anything with our favorite shiny tin man in it, so this will definitely be a future read. Thanks for the rec, Moon! :)

Participate in Fandom Friday to show your favorite creators from this week some love! :)

#FANDOM FRIDAY #creator appreciation #star wars #the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin x reader #grogu #soft din djarin #fanfiction #fan fic

[stories-and-coffee]

Found on pinterest. The artist is @lindebergart on Twitter

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian art #din djarin #grogu djarin #din and grogu #this is so soft

[floral-force]

Sleeping Bounty - Chapter 9

A Dream Come True

din djarin x f!reader

summary: The time has come for the princess to reunite with her family. Will they accept her and her Mandalorian suitor?

words: 3.6k+

warnings/tags: none, but my blog is 18+ only. gentleman!din djarin, lots of fluff and feelings

read on ao3 | series masterlist

previous | next

Din was nervous. Maybe not as much as her, but nervous nonetheless. At times like these, he was grateful for his gloves and helmet; they hid his clammy hands and sweaty brow. He was staying strong for her in this moment and hiding his wobbly knees under a brave exterior because his princess needed something solid and stable to lean on. Din would gladly be that man for her whenever she needed him to be; his arm would always be ready for her to grasp, and his hand forever hers to hold. 

The noise from the ballroom grew louder with each step, her hold on his forearm tightening when they saw Peli standing and waiting for them at another landing, this one made of smooth gray stone and covered in a rich red landing rug. It ran down the short hallway to another flight of gently curving stairs, the red fabric bleeding down them. They stopped short of the first of three narrow arched windows, decorative and made of ashen stone. The conversations below threatened to consume Din, but he looked down at her—meeting her wide eyes with his hidden ones—and it all went away.

“Glad to see you got her here safe, Din.” Peli winked and he nodded. She flew up and made a few final adjustments, wiping a tear off her round cheek after she straightened the princess’s crown and floated back to take her in. “They’re going to love you,” she whispered.

The princess nodded and smiled. She fought back the tears in her eyes with furious, determined blinks. “And if they don’t,” she said, looking up at Din, “I know he does.”

The short fairy scoffed. “And suddenly, I’m chopped liver!” Peli’s feigned anger melted into a soft smile when the princess giggled. She squinted at Din, then clicked her tongue as she waved her wand, dousing him in blue sparkles that quickly vanished. “Much better. Can’t have you walking down there with grimy armor.”

“Thank you, Peli,” he said with a nod.

She waved it away and gave him a wink. Then, Peli sighed and put her hands on her hips. “Well, I’ll let the trumpeters know you’re here. Once you hear them finish their little tune—” Peli hummed what Din assumed to be the end of it— “walk your behinds down those stairs. Got it?”

They both nodded. Peli gave her Rose one last kiss on the top of her head, then changed into a small blue orb, flying up and away. 

“I’m scared again, Din,” she whispered, leaning to the side and snapping back with a gasp. Her eyes were wide. “There’s so many people!”

Din angled himself towards her and lifted her chin with two of his fingers. “Look at me. I’m here, mesh’la. I’m not letting you do this alone.” Din hoped his attempt at a reassuring tone wasn’t ruined by the vocoder. “And if they hate you, we’ll fly over to my ship and leave this all behind.”

That made her laugh, the sound a welcome delight and distraction to his ears. He already knew that he’d never grow tired of hearing it. He cupped her cheek in his hand, running his thumb over the corner of her mouth. She gave him a dreamy grin and leaned into his palm. Apparently, this woman was on a mission to make his heart melt every five minutes. 

“I’ll suffer through that jet pack ride if it means spending forever with you.”

Din shook his head and exhaled her name. “I told you you’d change your mind, didn’t I?”

Before she could offer a retort, trumpets filled the air. Their bright, bold sound instantly hushed the crowd and sent a shiver up Din’s spine. His hand dropped back to his side, and he steadied his bent arm. Din turned his head to see her straighten next to him and squeeze her eyes shut. Din’s heart skipped a beat watching her roll her shoulders back and take a few deep breaths, eyes snapping open so she could steel her gaze straight ahead. She was steadfast and confident in the face of total uncertainty and while under an enormous amount of pressure. She was beautiful and graceful even though her eyes had been wide with fear just moments ago. Even if she’d just learned that she was a princess, she behaved now as if she’d been wearing a crown her whole life.

Din’s adoration was cut short. The final note of the trumpets’ brassy flourish sounded, and they began their descent into a new world. She clutched his forearm, her other hand gently pinching the fabric of her dress and lifting it so she wouldn’t trip. He hoped that Peli’s magic had done a decent job of polishing his armor. Din couldn’t afford to make a bad impression—her parents were expecting the puny prince, not a beskar-clad, weapon-adorned Mandalorian. In fact, Din realized he still had the spear strapped on his back. He winced; at least he was prepared if he needed to skewer someone. 

They reached the first stairstep and Din could hear some hushed whispers and exclamations. His eyes darted around the large crowd waiting for them at the bottom of the stairs. Din scoffed at the gaudy, brightly colored clothes they all wore; the crowd was a sea of poofy sleeves, belted tunics, gathered dresses, and tall boots, complete with ridiculous hats sticking out above the waves of turning heads. As they reached the midpoint of the stairs, he saw the king and queen waiting on their thrones to the left of the staircase and further back. Din was already charting a course across the vast expanse of red and white checkered marble floor, shoving his anxiety away.

He glanced up at the arched, vaulted ceiling that seemed to stretch to the heavens and realized he’d never been surrounded by so much wealth. Everything around him—the odd clothes, the gold railing and accents throughout, even the rug—reeked of wealth and power. It was almost overwhelming. It reminded him that he didn’t belong here among the bright colors and marble floor. Even though he’d woken the princess up, he was an outsider and could still be rejected. The woman at his side was betrothed to a prince, not a bounty hunter. Din clenched his jaw and reminded himself that he wasn’t owed anything just because he broke the curse. He had to be ready for her rejection. 

Din snapped out of his thoughts just as they approached the bottom of the stairs. The crowd at there quickly backed away and parted for them. Their shoes tapped in tandem against the polished floor as they walked through the whispering aisle. It felt like he was being sent to the executioner; at least he had an angel at his side. Din paused to glance down at her when they reached a golden line separating the plain marble from the checkered. She was already looking up at him, staring through his visor and into his eyes. He nodded, and looked ahead again, turning his head a few degrees to the left, gently guiding her on an angled path to her parents.

He could feel judgmental eyes on him as they made their way across the cleared rectangle in front of the thrones, the empty space only reaching halfway across the vast room. Din could feel the human border of the shape clamoring and mumbling, trying to get a glimpse of their princess and her guide. He noticed her parents slowly rise to their feet as they got close to the base of their thrones’ platform, and Din’s heart raced. At his side, his brave princess kept her head held high like a warrior walking into battle.

At last, they reached the platform, standing a few feet away from the last of the three steps leading to the elegant, gilded thrones that the king and queen stood in front of. Din bowed, and his princess curtsied; he straightened only when he felt her start to do so. A cryptic silence hung in the air, dense and ominous. Din noticed a short man standing a few feet away from the left side—the king’s side—of the rectangular platform. His pale face was growing redder by the minute, his thick white mustache and connected muttonchops slowly starting to look like fur on a tomato. He could only assume this short and stout man in buckled shoes was that prince’s father. He would’ve chuckled, but his attention was focused on his princess and how her shaking hand inched its way to grasp the bend of his elbow. 

“Mother?” she whispered, her voice the smallest he’d ever heard it. Her fingertips were digging into his flight suit’s fabric and pressing into his skin, something almost childlike in the self-soothing behavior.

The queen nodded and choked out the princess’s name with a radiant smile—a smile that was quite like hers. Din smiled under his helmet when she slipped her hand out and ran into her mother’s open arms. The queen held her close, arms looping under her daughter’s, shaking hands resting on her shoulders. The king stepped over to them, a gentle smile on his aged face as he said the princess’s name and stroked her back. 

Din was rarely emotional, but he couldn’t hold back the grin splitting his face at the sight of their reunion. He clasped his right wrist with his left hand and sighed, feeling his love’s relief wash over him. At least he knew she’d be happy if he was forced out of her life and the kingdom. Din could live with the memory of the blissful, teary-eyed smile she threw him over her shoulder after she finished hugging her mother being the last one he had of her.

“What does this mean?” the short man bellowed, stomping over to Din. He was hardly intimidating; Din had to tilt his head down to meet his beady-eyed glare with his visor.

Din shrugged. “It means that she woke up.”

“Hubert?” the king called out. 

Din looked up at the reunited family. The king’s hand was still on the princess’s back, who peered over her left shoulder, slowly turning her body to the front as her eyes flitted between Din and Hubert. The queen looked at her husband with confusion, her crowned head quirking to the left.

Hubert stormed up to the platform, a small, buckled shoe coming to rest on the last step. He pointed an accusatory finger back at Din, scowling at his helmet. “This thing—” he looked up at the king again— “has ruined my—no, our plans for the future!” 

Din raised an eyebrow and saw his princess’s brow furrow. The king walked down to the marble floor to stand in front of Din. He straightened under her father’s scrutinizing eyes, trying not to hold his breath. 

“Stefan, look at him!” Hubert sputtered, stomping over to stand at Stefan’s side. “Wearing armor with what I can only assume are weapons as accessories!”

Din dropped his hands to his sides, clenching his fists. Suddenly, he could feel the weight of his beskar armor and the heft of the darksaber dangling at his hip. Hubert’s comments weren’t slanderous; weapons were Din’s religion, after all. However, their honesty wasn’t helping his case. Stefan’s poor opinion of him probably wasn’t helped by the spear on his back either. 

All things considered, it wasn’t the worst impression he could have made.

“He’s a rotten fiend.” Hubert spat. He shook his head and wrinkled his nose at Din. “He’d only ruin your daughter.”

The king opened his mouth to speak. Din braced for the impact he’d been preparing for since he’d given the princess her crown back after their flight. Before Stefan could utter a single syllable, a blue orb appeared on Din’s right. Peli appeared with a spray of sparkles, her arms out in front of her, her wand in a white-knuckled grip. Her worried face was level with the king’s, who stopped and stared at her, closing his mouth.

“King Stefan,” she said, “this Mandalorian saved your daughter. He broke the curse, Your Majesty.”

Din made a mental note to thank Peli profusely later for coming to his rescue. 

“He did?” Stefan inquired, crossing his arms. His attention shifted to Din, his eyes narrowed and his brow furrowed. Din noticed that the princess had her father’s nose. “What’s your name?”

“Din Djarin, Your Majesty.” He bowed again, awkwardly straightening when the king hummed. 

“He slayed Moff Gideon and rid the kingdom of his dark magic and evil with the spear on his back,” Peli declared, giving Din a quick glance with wide eyes and raised eyebrows. 

He caught on and reached behind his head to grasp the spear, taking a few steps back as he pulled it up and into the air. Din gave it a little push so it flew straight up into the air for a few seconds. When he caught it in his right hand before the bottom touched the floor, he heard scattered gasps and whispers among the crowd.

“Is this true?” King Stefan asked Din, tilting his head to the side. Din looked past the king’s shoulder and saw his princess standing at her mother’s side, a worried expression painting her pretty face.

Din nodded and let the bottom of the beskar spear come to rest against the marble floor. “Yes, Your Majesty.” He continued, “I was hired by Prince Phillip to fight Moff Gideon, retrieve the princess, and bring her to him.”

Hubert shook his head and blubbered, white mustache shaking. “Hogwash! Insulting my son’s name when he isn’t here to defend himself is cowardly!”

“King Stefan, I was there,” Peli interjected. “I was with the prince when he made the deal, and I watched Din battle Gideon. I was the one who found the princess awake—with Din.” She looked at Din with a proud face. “This man saved your daughter—my Rose—from the curse with true love’s kiss.”

Stefan turned around and extended his hand, motioning for his daughter and wife to join him. When they were at his left side, the queen gave Din a long once-over, and his princess shot him a concerned look. Din shook his head just enough so she’d notice, hoping she could tell that he wasn’t worried, and that she shouldn’t be either. No matter what happened, he’d testified and knew it was the truth; he’d battled for her hand and thought of nothing but her as he swung the darksaber and threw the spear at the dragon’s heart. It had all been for her.

Stefan looked at the queen and sighed. “Leah, what do you think?”

Leah scrutinized Din once more. She peered over at Hubert, then met Stefan’s eyes again. She placed a hand on her daughter’s shoulder, fingers massaging her bare shoulder. She said the princess’s name, moving to stand in the middle of her family, the princess turning slightly to face them.

“Do you have anything to say?” she asked, her soft voice floating above the tense air. Din saw the tender, loving way she looked at his princess, and he’d never again doubt her love for her daughter.

“I’ve seen him in my dreams, and his face is the one I saw when I woke up.” The look the princess gave him warmed his entire body. Her eyes sparkled with joy, pure love spreading over her features and infecting Din. She beamed at him as she said, “I know he’s the one for me.”

Before he could stop himself, Din lifted his left hand, gloved palm up and beckoning to her. She stepped over to him and placed her delicate fingers over his leather ones, her lips parting when he curled his fingers in to run his thumb over her knuckles. Din wanted so badly to take his helmet off and kiss her, show her how much he adored her with his lips, hold her close and fend off anyone or anything that threatened her. Her bright eyes and sweet smile were all he saw, her scent was filling his lungs and intoxicating him. 

“We trusted Peli with our most precious possession 21 years ago, and she did not fail us,” Stefan announced, his voice suddenly loud and filling the hall, startling the princess into Din’s chest. Stefan smiled at Din. “We are a family again because of this Mandalorian.”

Din gave him a slow nod and stated, “This is The Way.”

Stefan took Leah’s hand and walked with her back to their thrones. Peli fiddled with her wand and worried her lip between her teeth. Hubert fumed where he stood, crossing his arms with a huff. The king and queen shared a soft look together, Stefan wiping his thumb across the apple of Leah’s cheek with a tenderness Din didn’t think a king would ever show to his subjects. The glowing parents look back out at the room of expectant people. A grin split Stefan’s face, and Leah’s joy matched his.

“Today, we celebrate my daughter’s return and her engagement to Din Djarin, the Mandalorian!”

As the crowd cheered, Din grinned and pulled his laughing princess into a sideways embrace. Hearing Hubert mumble and curse as his shoes tapped away scratched a tiny, vengeful itch Din didn’t knew he had. He felt a tug on the spear and caught Peli trying to pull it out of his grasp. He caught on and released it, letting her take it in a small hand and make it disappear before it could clatter to the ground. She flew off to the king and queen with a smile that could light up the darkest corners of the ceiling above. Hopefully the spear wasn’t gone for good—he’d really liked it. 

His princess looked up at him, placing her hands on his chest plate. A dreamy smile painted her plush lips. Din felt his heart swell at the sight of it; he truly was the luckiest man alive.

“Would you like to finish our dance?” She chuckled sheepishly. “We don’t have to look out for rocks and rabbit holes this time.”

“I thought you’d never ask, mesh’la,” Din purred, sweeping her into his arms and into the center of the rectangle. 

A small orchestra started playing a fluid, light melody, and he took the first step to lead her in the same waltz they’d danced in the forest. Din’s eyebrows knitted together, and he shook his head when the tune picked up and grew louder.

“Din? What is it?” 

“It’s the song I’d hear little pieces of in my dreams,” he muttered, looking down at her. “It’s what I imagined in my head when we danced in the forest.”

The princess giggled when he spun her around, catching her waist with one hand and stopping her. The blue skirt of her dress fanned out and collapsed back in, shimmering as it did. 

“I heard it in mine, too,” she admitted with a coy smile.

Din hummed, hoping she heard it. “My helmet’s lie detector says that isn’t true, princess.”

She raised an eyebrow and smirked. “I can take back everything I said, Din.”

“Playing dirty with the royalty card already?”

She laughed when he twirled her around again. Her beautiful face met his again, and his chest tightened at the sight of it. They danced in silence for a few seconds before she spoke again.

“I can tell when you’re thinking.” When Din tilted his head in question, she continued, “You go silent and you clench your fists, or grip my hands tighter.” She gazed up at him with glistening doe eyes before asking, “What are you thinking about?”

Din shook his head. “Just how lucky I am.”

She replied with an amused scoff. “You’re lucky for fighting off an evil man with powerful magic and having to slay a dragon?” 

The song stopped, the audience applauding and cheering. Her eyes had become glassy with emotion, cheeks pushed up from a warm smile. She shook her head and gingerly placed a hand on the indented part of his helmet. He cupped her jaw in his right hand, the left remaining on her waist. 

She didn’t need to tell him how much she loved him above the jubilant noise surrounding him. Din could feel it soaking his skin and dripping into his bones, seeping into his very being. Somehow, he’d always known it was her; had always known it couldn’t ever be anyone else. His kiss in the tower had been a promise to her, and he vowed to never break it for the rest of his life. When he’d looked into her eyes that were still hazy with sleep, that tiny thing that had planted itself in Din’s ribs as he flew to the castle bloomed and wrapped its roots around his organs and nerves. 

Din knew what it was now. He’d tell her later. Right now, he wanted to be present so he could remember how she held back a sob of happiness when he whispered her name and kneaded his fingertips into her waist, trying to press through the material keeping her warm skin from him. Din wanted to stay rooted in the moment with her so he could recall the way her bottom lip quivered as he tilted his helmet forward and pulled her in for a Keldabe kiss, murmuring her name again.

“I’d do it all over again for the rest of my life if it meant I got to kiss my sleeping beauty and hold her hands in mine.”

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