just a sleepy boy and his dad
Does YOUR Grogu know what blue and red is?
Happy Mermay y'all did you think I forgot?
@fandom-blackhole its our boysss
Proximity (Din Djarin x Reader)
A self-defense lesson with a Mandalorian was not your idea of fun, especially when he had a habit of toying with you.
Requested By Anon: #70 You're really close right now
A/N: There's always sexual tension during training, isn't there? I really am sorry this is not the best quality. I struggled with inspo and motivation for this one, it was painful to write lol.
Category: Mutual Pining, Sexual Tension
Warnings: Swearing, Violence, Suggestive Themes
"I'm not good at this."
"That's why we're doing it."
"Because I'm not good?"
"So you can get good."
Your heart was racing and you hadn't even begun the session. The tell-tale signs of anxiety were everywhere: the dryness of your mouth, the uneven breathing, and your trembling fingers. It was a strange thing, how the body could anticipate something like that. You hated it.
"Come on," the Mandalorian's voice was low- as if he thought that if he spoke too loud, you'd run off. He was half-right, you were definitely considering it. Who wouldn't?
No one wanted to fight the likes of Din.
Especially not you.
"This isn't my job," you hissed, taking a backward pace towards the ship. "This is yours, actually."
The bounty hunter stared at you for a long moment. You knew why he wanted you to do this, he needed the comfort of mind. Those times when he'd leave you in the ship alone, armed with nothing but a blaster and a farewell nod, it would plague him.
"It's everyone's job to know how to defend themselves," Din rasped, unbuckling the strap on his shoulder. The rifle framing his back sagged and he leaned it against a nearby boulder.
"This isn't fair," you were beginning to panic, now. "You're a big-ass Mandalorian in a shell of impenetrable armor with decades of training."
He nodded dismissively as he removed the jetpack, lowering it gently to sit by his weapon.
"I'm a mechanic," you said simply. "I don't want to get hurt right now, I want to go fix the rust bucket."
Din straightened, finally finishing the offload of his personal arsenal. The sunlight glinted off his visor, temporarily blinding you. Rubbing your eyes with a soft curse, you were startled to find him close when you recovered.
"I'm not going to hurt you," he negotiated softly, "you need this."
"I don't need to get body-slammed," you snapped.
"If you're afraid now, how do you think you'll go when someone is actually trying to kill you?"
He was getting frustrated with your lack of co-operation. You could hear it in the lilt of his voice, the sudden husk of his words. It made you shiver, you didn't want to be riling up someone who was teaching you to fight.
You had always relied on him for your protection just as he had relied on you for your technical abilities. The difference was that he knew enough about your trade to stop his ship from falling out of the sky, whereas, you couldn't fight your way out of a wet paper bag.
"If you punch me," you pointed a shaky finger to his chest, "I will wire the Crest to self-ignite."
With that damning statement, he gripped you by the shoulders.
You blinked at him, nervously sinking into his hold. That was quick, although you weren't sure why you had expected a warning. Was he about to throw you? Headbutt you? Squeeze you to death?
To your surprise, it was none of the above. Rather, the hunter simply stood unmoving. It was as though he was almost... expectant.
"Well?" He jostled you lightly in his grip. "What would you do?"
You stared at him owlishly.
There was a sigh, his fingers dipping into the skin of your shoulders. You were pushing his buttons without trying and for once you were too afraid to take advantage of it.
"If somebody did this to you, how would you handle it?" Mando clarified.
Oh. You bit your lip as your mind raced to answer his question. You knew a little from your days before the bounty hunter, although you weren't sure it would do much against him.
When you opened your mouth to explain, the Mandalorian shook his head.
"Show me," he said.
You did what you remembered: a simple maneuver that had you pushing at the insides of his arms. To your relief, he let go and allowed you to carry out your plans. Reversing the roles, you snatched his hands beneath your biceps, and once he was trapped, you raised your knee in the pretense of a groin kick.
"Good," Mando nodded, fingers resting against your back. You quickly let him go. The training was a lot gentler than you had expected, and although it was a pleasant surprise, your companion had a wicked sense of humor. You rarely got to see it, but when you did, you were generally the butt of the joke.
"The aim is to get away," Din said, casually stepping into your space. "Don't stick around to fight."
You surrendered some ground, inching backward in the face of his approach. You didn't want him too close, purely based on the lack of reaction time you would be given. "Really?" You snarked quietly, "I think I could take you."
There was a surprised chuckle from beneath the helmet, so short you would have missed it had you not been so hyperaware of his presence.
"Yeah?" He teased you softly, walking you backward with slow strides.
"Yeah," you breathed.
"Come here, then." Din tilted his head.
"Nope," you wheezed, "no, I think I'm good."
He said nothing, offering only a small nod. The hunter made a show of looking over your shoulder and you felt a cold sweat trickle down your spine.
You should have been looking behind you, should have been aware of your surroundings. Had you not been so distracted by the man in front of you, you would have noticed that he'd been backing you towards a boulder.
Your breath was knocked from your lungs when your body made contact, the fabric of your clothes snatching against the rough rock. This wasn't a good spot to be in. Whatever was coming next would either be painful or humiliating and you sighed.
A quick glance over your shoulder confirmed that you wouldn't be able to simply walk around it. The obstacle was as wide as it was tall.
You made no attempt to move as the Mandalorian approached, where could you go? You'd concede to this loss and maybe he'd let you return to your actual job. But, instead, you realized he was toying with you, moving with the same torturously slow pace.
"Always be aware of your surroundings," he said with an arrogant shrug.
"You distracted me." You snapped, anxiety crawling from your stomach to your chest. You had no reason to be afraid, he wouldn't hurt you and you knew it. There was just something in the way that he walked, a demeanor you'd never seen before.
You wonder if you had mistaken a very different feeling for fear.
"I seem to do that a lot," the words were honeyed, suspiciously so.
The urge to close your eyes in anticipation was strong when he finally came to a stop in front of you. Settling for a squint, you flinched as he raised his hand to your neck.
"I'm not going to hurt you," he murmured roughly, "but if this was real you'd be dead."
"That's not fair," you huffed, framing the statement with a sardonic laugh. "You haven't even given me a scenario to work with yet."
You'd barely finished your sentence when he moved.
A hard boot kicked the inside of your foot, forcing you to widen your stance. The cold, hard beskar of his thigh pressed against the inside of your legs, pressuring them to remain open.
A sharp gasp fell involuntarily from your lips when his hand raised to rest against the base of your neck. Your eyes squeezed shut, grimacing as you held his wrist instinctively. His grip was soft, almost a caress, but the warning twitch of his fingers indicated that he would squeeze if needed.
The hunter's other hand settled against your waist, fingers digging firmly into the curve of your body. Another silent announcement that he could make it really hurt if he'd wanted to.
"Better?" He asked roughly against your ear. Your eyes shot open, chest heaving as you assessed his position. The inky black of his visor was barely a couple of inches from your face and your nose brushed against the metal of his helmet.
"You're really close right now," you blurted. The proximity made you dizzy, you would have swayed had he not been holding you so tightly. Both your hands gripped his wrist hard as he tightened his fingers fractionally before loosening again. The movement was almost playful and you knew then that he was enjoying this.
"I could be closer, Mesh'la," he murmured. He tugged at the hem of your shirt softly, slipping his touch to your skin. The leather of his gloves was cool against the raging warmth of your body.
You choked at the sensation.
"Are you flirting with me?" You whimpered disbelievingly. When you woke up this morning, nobody could have convinced you that this would be your afternoon.
"I'm trying to make you uncomfortable," he corrected.
"That's not the word I'd use, Din," you breathed.
There was a stunned silence and his fingers twitched against your skin. It was one of his tells, the small movement an easy way to assess his emotional state.
"How-" he cleared his throat, "how would you get out of this?"
"I wouldn't," you said simply.
"You'd have never let anybody get this close," you rasped, watching him from beneath your lashes. You knew that wasn't what he was asking, not what this training session was for. In your defense, he had thrown that out the second he'd shoved himself in between your legs.
Your core tightened, pooling with a delicious heat that settled low. The pair of you had danced around your feelings for each other for so long, never approaching the topic but acknowledging it silently.
But Din had never been so bold before.
"What if I wasn't there?" He rebutted, tilting his head lightly. Your breath hitched in your throat as his thumb slowly stroked the skin of your side. "What if you were alone?"
"You're always there," you uttered lowly, the promise of a smile playing on the corner of your mouth.
"And what about now?" Din murmured, slowly pulling you to his chest. The hand around your throat lifted, skimming the skin of your neck to settle on your jaw. "How will you handle this?"
"Take me to the Crest and I'll show you."
With a knowing smirk, you hooked a finger into the bottom of his helmet. The digit was lost to the black abyss as you pulled him down.
the detour (2) (Din/f!reader)
Rating: E (Explicit)
Summary: Your little backwater home is flyover country for most of the galaxy. Galactic Republic? Empire? New Republic? It’s all the same to you. Strangers fighting over your home. At least, it is until a very familiar ship with a not-so-familiar pilot makes an emergency landing, and needs your help. The mystery man, covered in beskar, so desperate to return to the stars, finds something unexpected on his unscheduled detour.
Warnings: SMUT, PIV sex, oral (m and f receiving), helmetless Din, never-been-kissed Din, things escalate quickly u guys, more body warming, soft!Din, domestic things… let me know if I missed something
A/N: A certain Vanity Fair article had me spiraling back into Din-land once again… My beloved @ezrasbirdie came through with the beta help as always. We’re both In Too Deep with our love of this metal man and we’re happy about it.
Previous || Din Djarin Masterlist
Din takes to farm life with an enthusiasm that leaves you breathless.
It starts the morning after your first night together; you wake, cradled against Din’s warm chest, fingers spread over his stomach. It’s muscular and strong, with a layer of softness that feels good under your palm. Din must like the way you’re absentmindedly stroking the flesh, dusted in dark hair, because he makes a little hum of pleasure and kisses your hairline.
“Good morning, mesh’la,” he murmurs. You nuzzle his shoulder and look up, resting your chin on him.
“Don’t know that word,” you say, gazing up at him sleepily.
“Mesh’la. Beautiful,” he says, sliding his large hand all the way down the curve of your back to cup your bare ass, his dark eyes already molten with need. You lean up to cup Din’s face and kiss him, and he responds with delight, his hands pulling you and wrapping you around him for a steamy, naked morning makeout session.
Despite his obvious arousal, Din seems content to explore you slowly, kissing and touching every part within reach. He grips one cheek of your ass in his strong hand while the other slides up to the center of your back, grounding you in a hot, possessive embrace.
“Someone’s feeling better,” you murmur against his lips, giggling as he responds with a hungry growl and squeezes you harder.
“I don’t want to leave this bed,” he confesses, tilting his head to kiss your neck and making you stretch back in pleasure.
“Mm, tempting,” you reply, breath hitching as he slips his fingers between your naked thighs and gives you a few teasing strokes. “But if you’re feeling that frisky, then you’ll have plenty of energy for farm chores, right?” You give him a half-kiss and pull back, enjoying the squinty pout he gives you in response.
“Right,” Din grunts, tracing a reluctant circle over your back before resting his palm on you for a moment and letting you slip free of his grasp. You pick up your robe from the back of the closet, steadfastly ignoring his longing gaze as you cover your naked body and tie the sash.
“Breakfast first,” you say with a smile. “Then I intend to put you to work.”
Din tucks away a bowl of thick, creamy oatmeal topped with spices and chunks of sugar melon before pulling on one of your brother’s tunics and trousers. You’ve changed into your own work clothes and boots and guide him out back, surveying the field. Foz is already crouched at the edge of the field, using a knife to remove the greens without damaging the root, and you pull your own blade from a pocket, showing Din the technique to preserve the root for next season. Din kneels next to you, watching your hands work and nodding. He’s so big and so quiet; you have to coax responses out of him from time to time. It’s almost as though he forgets to talk.
“You don’t spend much time with other people, do you?” You ask, handing over the blade and pulling out a second one as you both get to work on a row of greens.
Din cringes slightly.
“Is it that obvious?”
“Not a criticism,” you say, a gentle smile on your face. “I know how it is. Being alone so much, you get used to the silence.”
Din purses his lips.
“Yeah, I guess I’ve been alone a lot. For a long time. When I’m not bringing in a bounty, that is. But they rarely make good conversation,” he adds. It takes you a moment to catch the spark of amusement in his eyes.
“A joke!” You say, grinning.
“Not a particularly good one, but yes,” he replies, rubbing the back of his hand over his cheek. A small smudge of dirt gets on his forehead. You reach into your pocket, pulling out a soft handkerchief and dabbing the dirt away.
“Don’t want that running down and getting in your pretty brown eyes,” you say softly, tucking the small cloth back in your pocket.
Foz, who walked up moments earlier, snickers.
“Perks of being a new recruit?” He says. “What about my eyes?”
“You know the ropes around here already, Foz,” you say, slightly exasperated. “We go way back, old man.”
Foz worked for your father, and while he can be prickly - and sometimes drunk - he cares about you. You’re sure he could get more money working on another farm, but loyalty to your father has made him stay, and you’re grateful.
Foz chuckles and extends a hand to Din, who gives him a tight nod, shakes it, and gets back to work on the row of greens.
Once you’ve filled a basket, you show Din where to pile them and move on to the next row. He takes to the work quickly, and soon you’ve cleared a large corner of the field leading up to the crash site, where the N-1 left ruts in the ground.
“We got pretty lucky,” you say, peering more closely under the ship. “The ruts missed most of this row. Won’t lose as many of the greens as I thought,” you add brightly. It means more work, but Din looks relieved.
The suns beat down, high in the sky, and Foz has left for his usual liquid lunch when you slip into the house and back out with a pitcher of fresh juice. It’s bright pink, and when you pour Din a glass, he takes a long gulp, the liquid staining his lips. You can’t stop staring at them.
“What is it?” He asks, wiping the sweat from his forehead with one sleeve.
You shake your head, sipping your own drink.
Din’s eyes drift down to your lips, and then his expression turns playful.
“Think I see now,” he says, grinning. “Are my lips pink too?”
You chuckle, nodding.
“Can’t be as pretty as yours,” he says with a soft, low growl.
You bite your bottom lip and Din sets his glass down on the table outside the barn, taking a bold step toward you.
“Never realized how wonderful lips could be before this,” he breathes, leaning in and crushing his mouth to yours. The pair of you are damp all over, clothes sweaty, and you can feel the heat rolling off Din in waves as he plunges his tongue into your mouth, making you whimper in response.
Reluctantly, you pull back, giving his bottom lip a playful nibble before releasing him.
“Naughty boy,” you whisper, and his eyes darken with delight. “Be good and help me finish up, and you’ll get a special treat tonight.”
There are eight waist-high baskets piled high with the greens, tied off in bunches, by the time the twin suns set. Din’s helped you cut the time for harvest to a fraction of what it would usually take, and your mood is buoyant as you heat a kettle for tea before dinner. You showered after the long day’s work (together, taking longer than strictly necessary), and wrapped up in your robe. You pour Din a steaming mug of tea, which he takes gratefully, easing himself into your father’s old chair and sighing.
“Thank you for today,” you say, setting your mug down on a side table next to him and picking your way over his feet to sit in the other chair. Din reaches a hand out, and you rise from it, allowing yourself to be pulled into his lap.
“Been wanting you all day,” he murmurs, leaning to kiss your neck. You shiver with pleasure, arms wrapping around him.
He’s always so warm.
“You just had me in the shower,” you say, a breathless giggle on your lips as Din grips your earlobe gently between his flat, square teeth and tugs, sending tingles through your body.
“Want more,” he grunts, his hands sinking into the flesh of your waist and lifting to allow you to shift in his lap until you’re straddling him.
“Aren’t you hungry?” You ask, the question followed by a sharp intake of breath as Din’s hand burrows under your robe, cupping you between your legs and rubbing his fingertips over your hot core. You’re still puffy from the heat of the shower and the friction of his thrusts into you against the tile wall. He toys with your folds, grunting in pleasure as wetness coats his fingers.
Pulling them free, he lifts his hand to his mouth and gives his fingers a long, slow suck, making you whimper and drop your forehead to his shoulder.
“Think I earned dessert first?” He asks playfully, dipping his fingers back into the robe and teasing you.
“You had a taste, don’t be greedy,” you reply, nipping at his jaw and then swinging your leg off him to stand up. “Come have some dinner and we’ll see about something sweet after that.”
Din stands, towering over you as he follows you into the kitchen, taking a seat at the small table and folding his hands.
You reach into the pantry, retrieving a small bag of spices. After the tea kettle whistles, you pour it over the tea leaves in two cups, then empty the rest of the boiling water into a large dish, adding two packets of noodles and protein, along with a handful of greens, and a generous shake of the spices. Clicking the flash oven on, you open the door and slide the dish inside to bake.
You sit next to Din, who’s sipping his tea and watching you with a look of warmth on his face.
“What?” You ask, cocking your head slightly to the side.
“Nothing, I just— it’s nice to be taken care of a little. Can’t remember the last time someone made a meal for me, uh, more than once.”
His hand dwarfs yours as he reaches for it.
“I know it hasn’t been very long, but—“
The oven beeps sharply, and you shake your head, rising to lift the dish out with gloves and serving the baked pasta onto plates.
“Sorry the protein isn’t better. It’s usually just me I’m feeding,” you say, heat rising in your cheeks. “Um, what were you saying?”
Din shakes his head.
“Never mind. This smells delicious. Really, thank you.”
“Least I can do when you’re helping me so much,” you reply, grinning. “Dig in,” you say, gesturing to him to eat.
Din takes a forkful of the pasta and hums with delight.
“The spices,” he murmurs, “it’s like nothing I’ve ever tasted.”
You smile triumphantly.
“That’s the same mixture my father used. Works on just about everything,” you reply, winking at him. “Maybe I’ll give you a little bit as a parting gift,” you add, feeling a sudden pang in your chest.
You don’t want him to go.
Din looks at you, and you could swear the smile on his face turns a little sad.
After dinner, you clear away the table and Din insists on helping clean up. It’s no use resisting him, and you find yourself maneuvering around your small kitchen shoulder to shoulder with a very large man. He’s eager to help, drying and putting away dishes, wiping down surfaces, and before you know it, the kitchen is clean and Din is watching you cast about for something to do.
He’s so unflinching when it comes to what he wants; and he’s clearly decided he wants you. He watches you like he plans to chase you through the house and mount you, and the look on his face has you feeling simultaneously nervous and aroused; a prey animal face to face with its greatest threat.
He steps close, arms bracketing you against the counter, as you look up at him, your heart beating a staccato rhythm against your ribcage.
“What if I didn’t have to leave for good?” Din asks, his eyes two pools of midnight as they pin you in place. “What if I got my kid and we- we came back?” A light flush colors the tops of his cheekbones. “He’s a little ball of mischief, but I think you’d like him-”
“Yes,” you reply, without an ounce of hesitation. “I want you to come back. Both of you. Come back to me and stay,” you add, and then he’s kissing you again, gathering your body in those firm, strong arms, and you stop thinking altogether.
Within moments, he’s lifted you into his grip, the movement making you squeak with joy as he carries you to bed, one firm hand gripping your ass as you cross your ankles behind his waist. He’s so big. You feel dwarfed by his sheer size and when he rests you down on the bed, crawling over you, looming over you– you feel delicate in his embrace.
He nuzzles his way to the waistband of the soft sweatpants you’d tugged on before making dinner, lips dancing along your belly as he rucks up your shirt to press tender kisses to silky skin.
“Wonder if you’re still wet,” he whispers, urging your hips up and then easing the pants over the curve of your ass and down your thighs and fuck- you can feel the slick at the tops of your thighs, where you’re soaked for him. You have been all night.
He doesn’t waste a moment, his hungry mouth licking up the shiny juices gathered on your pussy, making you whimper aloud.
“Maker,” he grunts, sinking one finger - then two - into your core. “You’re not just wet, you’re-” he prods gingerly, “-you’re all soft and puffy, just fucked out and perfect.” Din presses his forehead to your hip, eyes full of concern as he gazes up at you.
“Are you too sore, mesh’la?” he whispers, lips brushing over your hip. “I don’t ever want to hurt you.”
He’s fucked you more times in the past 24 hours than you’d been fucked in the past five years, and yet – you absolutely do not want him to stop.
“No, you’re just- big. Might take me a bit to adjust,” you whisper, and he shoots you a feral grin, drawing the soft, puffy lips of your pussy into his mouth and licking them generously, like a sweet dessert he wanted to devour.
“I want- I want to taste you, too,” you whisper, and he leans back, grinning.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” he replies before his lips and tongue resume their work and you’re screaming within minutes, another wild release coursing through your body.
“How badly is your ship damaged?” You ask, leaning against Din on the porch swing. You can see the outline of the N-1 in the field, illuminated by starlight. It’s mostly intact; the passenger compartment blessedly unaffected by the rough landing.
“One of the engines took the brunt of the impact,” Din replies, his fingers stroking the nape of your neck. “Shouldn’t be too hard to fix, once I find the key parts.”
You pause, looking thoughtfully at the ship.
“Can I see inside it?”
You feel rather than see Din’s answering smile, the curve of his lips rising against your temple where he has you cuddled against him.
He’s slow, deliberate as he takes your hand, guiding you out into the field as insects chirp loudly. Your feet stuffed into your boots, you plod along after him, curiosity making your body hum as he lifts the door of the ship, letting you climb inside.
“I’m not sure we’ll both fit,” you say, chuckling.
Din seems to take that as a challenge, hoisting his own body up and into the cockpit. You squirm around, settling in his lap.
It’s a tight squeeze.
“You definitely can’t fly like this,” you say, chuckling. “More room down by your feet, though,” you add, scooting off his lap and gazing into the space there. You kneel between his legs, and feel a shot of tension go through the muscles of his thighs as he shifts to accommodate you. Then you’re looking up at him and oh- oh.
You smile, palms sliding up and over his thighs through the sleep pants.
“What- what are you doing?” He asks breathlessly, licking his lips.
“I’m going to suck you off, right here in your ship,” you reply, voice low, steady and direct. “Do you like the sound of that?”
“Yes, f- fuck,” Din grunts as you press your mouth to him through the pants, lips warm on his length. He shifts eagerly, helping you free his cock from the confines of the pants, undoing a convenient button, and then he’s silky and velvety and hot in your hand. You give him one firm stroke, then two, then your lips part and you take him onto your tongue, the head of his cock glistening under the starry sky with a droplet of wetness. Your thumb brushes over his slit and he jerks, whimpering in pleasure as you tease him, tongue swirling around the head of his cock and then taking him deep, cheeks hollowed to suck on him.
“So- so fucking good,” he grits out, his large palms spreading over your head, fingers gripping you and easing you forward; barely restrained thrusts urging you to let him fuck your mouth, your throat, right there in the crashed ship. You nod, mumbling encouragement and letting him do it, letting him claim you with his cock like he had multiple times in the past day. This man was a stranger not so long ago, and now you wanted nothing more than to keep him forever. Taste him forever. Fuck him, and be fucked by him, until neither of you could move or think or speak.
“Perfect, so perfect,” he whimpers, hips stuttering until his balls tighten and you feel his hands grip tighter and then he fills your mouth without warning, his cum hot as he spills inside your lips. You swallow, drinking from his body as you urge him to keep fucking your mouth, his whimpers and cries fading as he finishes at last.
“Are you all right?” He asks, hands gentle on your face as he looks down at you, crouched between his legs on that ship.
“I’m good,” you reply hoarsely, rubbing your cheek against his knee. “Been dying to try that ever since you crashed here.”
Din grunts, his thumb brushing over your sticky lower lip.
“Filthy girl. Fuck. Now you’re really never getting rid of me,” he adds, smiling down at you.
“Good,” you say, grinning. “That’s good to hear.”
Comments/reblogs always appreciated! Let me know if you’d like to be tagged, and if you’d like me to add to this story! 💞
hehe i luv him sm
WHEN DOES THE MANDALORIAN SEASON 3 PREMIERE?
Lucasfilm, via a new profile from Vanity Fair, confirmed that The Mandalorian Season 3 is eyeing a late 2022 or early 2023 release window on Disney+.
Previously, the third season of the Star Wars show was expected to hit the streaming platform by Christmas this year. This new development suggests that there is a chance fans could be waiting a bit longer to return to the world of The Mandalorian.
Okay but what if Din Djarin
Din has been king of Mandalore for many years but knows war is on the horizon for his people if he is not careful. In a desperate move, he agrees to an attempt at a shaky truce and was to marry an Imp chosen by the Emperor himself. Sensing an opportunity, he and a mysterious group plot to kill the Emperor so Mandalore can take the power that's alluded it for so long.
They were expecting most anything as an obstacle to their plan…except for Luke.
Luke who has constant memories of agony and loneliness; of Master with his yellowed-eyes and crooked teeth and his smile that cuts skin as he purred out toxic words of “monster” into every waking moment of Luke’s life. Luke with his heart on his sleeve and a past shrouded in mystery that may give more opportunity, and trouble, to Din's plan than he originally bargained for.
COMFORT. We finally have some comfort here! Come get your comfort before it’s gone!
Got this up a bit earlier today which is exciting! I hope everyone enjoys the update and how our baby finally gets some comfort in his life!
And, again, FANART:
@shypt made this amazing Luke & Sky piece
JingleKo (jingleko_art on instagram) made this gorgeous piece here! (instagram with music here)
Two Weeks (Din Djarin x Reader)
Chapter 1 (Chapter 2 coming soon)
A/N: Hi everyone! Here is my first chaptered Din Djarin x Reader fic. I’ve got big plans and I hope y'all like it. Requests are still open. Bruce Wayne x Reader coming next!!! Thanks y'all!!! Enjoy :) (also this is gonna be based on Two Weeks by Grizzly Bear but each chapter will have it’s own name after this)
Summary: After running away from Luke’s training, Din is tasked with bringing you back to him. What neither of you anticipated was the connection that would come with being stuck together for two weeks.
Warnings: Eventual smut!!! So imma put an 18+ warning just to be safe. I don’t think this is going to be too slow of a slow burn (like I’m talking smut by the next chapter or chapter 3 so...), canon violence, implication that Din got another Razor Crest bc im lazy, creepy/sexual harassment-y Twi’leck, and my favorite: the one bed trope muahaha.
Word Count: 3,605
The holobooks glow a cerulean blue, illuminating the dimly lit shelves that stretched on for what seemed like miles. The library was unsettlingly quiet, too quiet. The silence gave you more than enough time to drown yourself in your own thoughts.
You can’t help but go over that last conversation you and Luke had shared just two months ago. It plays over and over again in your head, tempting your brain to split open with guilt.
“I’m not picking a side,” You shouted, storming towards the X-Wing you intended to take from Luke.
“But by leaving you are,” He insisted. “You’re giving into your fear, your hatred, your emotions.” His voice was stern, yet calm. It annoyed you. How could he possibly be so collected at a time like this?
“No!” Your shout was now a scream. “Leaving isn’t the same thing as picking a side.” You could feel your throat closing, growing hoarser with each syllable. “I’m done being an apprentice. I’m done serving someone else!”
And with that, you left.
You knew you had made the right decision, but you still felt undeniably guilty. You didn’t want to hurt Luke, but you needed to save yourself. You wanted to go down your own path, to make your own choices.
After all, you had spent the first fifteen years of your life with the Empire. You’ve never known the full story, but you were apparently kidnapped by the Empire before you could crawl. They knew you were force sensitive, and so you always assumed you had come from some powerful Jedi Knight. Once kidnapped, you trained under Vader as an apprentice. While it was in small doses, you had brought out the light in him. Then, the Rebels found you during the Battle of Yavin, and took you in.
So, when Luke began training you, he was shocked to see that you already knew an abundance of Jedi skills. He realized that whatever was leftover of Anakin Skywalker had trained you. However, your Sith training was still certainly prevalent. But because of this, you felt as though you could use both sides of the force comfortably. You tried to explain to Luke that you found balance in using both the light and the dark, but he refused to understand.
Luke often treated you like you were something that needed to be cleansed, like something that wasn’t enough. He immediately forced himself into the traditions of the Jedi. You, on the other hand, knew that would be a mistake.
You decided to steal the X-Wing and fly to Nevarro. You sold the ship and found a job as an archivist at a brand new library on the planet. Things had been going well, but today you simply couldn’t stop thinking about your past, about Luke. You could feel something coming, something that was connected to-
Suddenly a shiny figure covered in Beskar approached your desk. You swallow harshly, immediately sensing that he isn’t just here for the books.
He’s here for you.
“C-Can I help you?” You stutter. Your eyes flash under the desk, checking quickly to ensure your sabers are still there. Although, they aren’t quite yours. One was your father’s — whoever that was — and the other was Vader’s. Luke had given you your father’s, while you found Vader’s in the destruction of the Second Death Star. You never told Luke about it.
“I’m looking for a Jedi,” The Mandalorian’s modulated voice snaps you back to reality. You know he means you, even though you don’t consider yourself a Jedi. You reach your hands out and attempt to discreetly force pull the sabers to you.
You fail completely, as one knocks over a paper weight and a canteen of water before flying into your hands.
“Guess that’s you,” He states matter-of-factly.
You leap over the desk and sprint into the stacks, igniting your sabers in the process. The blue and red beams reflect against the gray marble floors, your boots pounding with each step you take.
You look behind you, noticing that the Mandalorian is gaining on you. His armor clatters as he closes the space between the two of you.
You concentrate your energy, bending down into the floor, and leaping up, bouncing from shelf to shelf until you reach the top of a bookcase. You look behind you again, and the Mandalorian is now climbing the shelves. You pause for a moment, knowing that he isn’t going to make it up as quickly as you did.
“Who sent you?” You question as he continues up the case.
His gloved hands finally reach the top. “A mutual friend,” He says, his voice a bit strained through his helmet as he pushes himself up.
You point the red saber towards him as he stands just a few feet away from you. “Are you with the Empire?” You ask, swallowing the fear in the back of your throat. “Because if so, you can fuck off. I’ll kill you before you can take me back to wherever you’re stationed now. I’m not going back,” You can feel tears stinging in the corners of your eyes. “I-I’m not going back,” You say again, stuttering.
The Mandalorian takes a single step towards you, slipping his blaster back into its holster. He puts his hands in the air, “Maker, no, I’m not with the Empire,” He takes another step towards you, and you slowly lower your saber. “It’s okay,” He breathes. Despite the helmet, you know he’s looking into your eyes. He can feel your pain. “I’m not going to hurt you, I promise.”
You close both sabers, still clasping the hilts tightly in your hands. “So, then who sent you?” You press, apprehensively closing the space between you and the Mandalorian. You feel as though you can trust him. You can tell he isn’t here to hurt you. If he was going to, he certainly would have already.
“Luke Skywalker,” He finally admits. “He asked me to bring you to him.”
You scoff, shaking your head as you turn away from the Mandalorian. “No kriffing way am I going back,” Your voice is callous and coarse. You sit on the edge of the bookshelf, your heels tapping against the shelf below. “He couldn’t even come get me himself,” You whisper, looking off into the distance.
The Mandalorian stands next to you, and that’s when you sense something else.
You look up at him, his armor glimmering in the blue light, and see a little green figure peeking through the brown sack around his waist. You smile softly, instantly feeling the force coursing through the little creature.
“Who’s this?” You ask, reaching out towards him. The little guy reaches towards you too. Before the Mandalorian can stop him, the child falls into your arms. “The force is strong with him,” You say as you scoop him up.
“His name is Grogu,” The Mandalorian remarks, snatching the child back. He reaches a hand out to you, “But now isn’t the time for introductions. I have to get you back to Luke.”
You breathe deeply through your nose, sighing audibly as you exhale. You take the Mandalorian’s hand and stand up. “I’ll go with you on one condition.”
“I don’t negotiate with bounties,” He states nonchalantly.
You roll your eyes. “The condition is that you bring me back here once I’m done talking to Luke. I don’t intend to stay with him for more than ten minutes.”
He’s quiet for a few seconds, pondering your proposition. Finally, he nods. “Fine,” The Mandalorian huffs. “But then my condition is that I’ll do some bounties on the way, and you’ll stay on the ship with the child.”
You arch your brow and shake your sabers. “You want me to stay on the ship? The wanted, force sensitive, Sith Lord-Jedi?”
The Mandalorian chuckles softly. For some reason you can’t quite place, your heartbeat speeds up at the sound of it. “Maybe I’ll think about it,” He says, walking away from you and jumping down from the bookcase. You follow closely behind him.
“What’s your name?” You ask as you head towards the doors of the library.
He doesn’t answer right away, as if he’s unsure of how to respond. “You can call me Mando,” He says finally. You nod.
You grab your cloak from one of the hooks in the foyer of the lobby, and swiftly put it on. You lift the hood over your head, ensuring that you stay at least somewhat hidden, and exit the library.
After a mile or two of walking, you and Mando come across a cantina. He stops in front of it, carefully grasping his blaster. His visor looks down at you, and you meet his gaze. He’s heeding a wordless warning.
But you didn’t need any warnings. You could handle yourself.
You nod once and Mando presses a button that opens the door. You walk into the dark bar, music blasting from the speakers.
“So, what are we doing here?” You ask, your eyes searching the cantina.
Mando nods over to a corner booth. “You see that Twi’lek sitting next to that guy?” Mando asks, and you nod. “He’s coming back with us, whether he likes it or not.”
“How do I help?” You question, moving your cloak to the side to grab your sabers. Mando reaches down to your hand in response, his gloved fingers wrapping around your wrist.
“Not like that,” He says, his grasp still firm on you. You can’t help but notice the contact, the closeness. “Go sit in that booth over there,” His voice is barely audible as he points to the booth a few seats away from the Twi’lek. “And take the kid,” He says, pulling the bag off of him and handing it to you. You wanted to roll your eyes at the lack of importance in your job, but the cuteness of the kid quickly makes you happy to be of service.
You head over to the table and sit down. Grogu wiggles out of the bag and into your lap. A feeling of safety washes over you as he makes himself comfortable, and there’s no doubt in your mind that Grogu is attempting to communicate to you that his father isn’t as bad as he appears to be.
And you’re quick to believe him.
It’s clear that the child loves Mando, as Grogu fills your mind with images of the Mandalorian going above and beyond to save him, putting him above all else, sacrificing his own happiness just so Grogu can live a good life. It makes your heart warm. It gives you a certain feeling, a feeling you haven’t felt…
“I get it little guy,” You whisper to him, rubbing his head with the fist of your hand. He coos and giggles as you squeeze him closer to you.
But those feelings of safety and comfort and warmth turn into nothingness the second you feel a hand grip your shoulder tightly.
You whip your head around to see another Twi’lek. “Can I help you?” You snarl condescendingly.
The Twi’lek chuckles. “That’s no way for a woman to talk to a man who’s interested in her,” He answers. You roll your eyes.
“Interested in what about me, exactly?” You question, placing the kid in the space next to you. “In getting your ass kicked?” Your voice is firm and growing louder with each word that leaves your lips.
He brings his hand up to your chin, lifting it up so that you’re forced to meet his gaze. You grab his hand in response, trying to pry it off of you, but it’s no use. “You need to learn how to behave yourself,” He growls. You contemplate force pushing him off of you, or reaching for your saber and chopping him in half right here, but you know that would ruin Mando’s bounty, and it would blow your cover.
“Let me go,” You demand, your eyes searching the room for some sort of escape. There was nothing you could do without giving up your spot. You look over to the other booth, attempting to catch Mando’s attention. You can hear the child screeching behind you. Your heart pounds in your ears. “Please just let me go,” You’re begging now. You don’t know what else to do.
The Twi’lek scoffs. “Not happening. Not until you learn how to-,”
Two blaster shots ring out, and the Twi’lek immediately jumps back in fear.
“You kriffing touch her again and you’ll end up like your friend here,” Mando says, holding up the lifeless body of the bounty. “I should kill you for just talking to her,” His voice is commanding as he closes the gap between himself and the Twi’lek.
You grab the child and pull him into your chest. You can feel his fear, and you’re sure he can feel your own too. “It’s okay,” You whisper. “I’ve got you now.” Mando watches how you’re caring for Grogu out of the corner of his eye. Something stirs within him, something he can’t quite place.
He storms over to you, bounty in tow, and grabs your arm. His gloved fingers once again find their way to your wrist, and he guides you out of the cantina.
Just behind the cantina is a ship. You figured Mando had planned that whole thing out. Dragging a bounty for miles on end doesn’t exactly sound like fun. Regardless, you wanted to forget what had just happened. You had been through enough for one day, never mind an entire lifetime.
“What kind of ship is this?” You ask, trying to make conversation. Mando’s grip on your wrist tightens, and he stops in his tracks.
“You just almost got killed, or…” He trails off, looking down at the ground. “Or worse, and you want to know what kind of ship this is?” His voice is no longer strong or confident, it’s shaky and unsure. You’re shocked at how much he cares for your wellbeing. Even inside the cantina, something had come over him. No one, including Luke, has ever shown so much care for you before.
That’s when you feel the tears pricking at your eyes. That’s when you finally register the weight of what tonight’s events could have meant.
“I-I’m sorry,” You stumble around your words, staring down into the orangey-tan sand coating your gray boots.
Mando shakes his head, his arm moving up to rest on your shoulder. He rubs softly and breathes deeply. “No, don’t apologize. I’m being too hard on you,” He whispers. “Are you alright?”
You nod once. “I think so,” You reply, settling into his touch. It’s relaxing, warm, and you’re enjoying it far more than you should. You don’t know what it is, but there’s something endearing about him, something that lures you in and keeps you hanging. You want to hold onto the feeling, to keep it in your pocket and wear it around your neck whenever you can.
He keeps his hand around your wrist while the other pulls the bounty along as you walk up the ramp together. He drops your wrist and yanks the bounty over to the carbon freezer. He makes quick work of the Twi’leck as you look around the ship. In the corner, underneath the cockpit, is a single bunk. Your exhaustion makes the makeshift mattress look extra comfortable. You could fall asleep standing up, to be honest.
Mando finishes with the now dead bounty and stands by your side. You hand him the bag with the kid in it. He peers inside and catches a glimpse of a sleeping Grogu. You hear him chuckle through his modulator and you can feel that feeling again, that feeling that makes your heart want to burst.
You smile softly. “So how long am I going to be a burden on you,” You joke, your smile widening.
“Two weeks,” He says plainly.
For some reason, two weeks didn’t seem long enough.
Mando’s visor meets your gaze again. You can’t help but yawn, your exhaustion thoroughly catching up with you.
“You should get some rest, we’ll be on Tatooine tomorrow,” He says, his voice equally thick with tiredness. “My bunk is down there, you can take it.”
You furrow your brows. “What about you?” You ask. You really were going to be a burden on him.
“I’ll take the cockpit,” He says back, pointing over to the uncomfortable looking chairs at the front of the ship.
You shake your head. “We can share, it’s fine,” You insist. But Mando doesn’t listen. He walks towards the cockpit.
“Maybe,” He finally responds, “But for now I’ll stay up here. I have to put in the coordinates and get us on course anyway.”
You nod. “Goodnight,” You whisper, your voice coated with fatigue.
“‘Night,” Mando whispers back as he takes his seat. You do as he says and waddle down into his bunk.
Normally, something like this wouldn’t seem comfortable to you, being that the mattress was probably no more than two inches thick and the blanket was incredibly thin, but you were far too tired to care. It felt like heaven just to lay down, so much so that you drift off to sleep before Mando can even take off.
There’s lightning, and a hooded figure. You can see Mando and the child on the other side of whatever platform you’re on, maybe on a rock somewhere off in the distance. Your sabers glow in your hands. You try to run towards the figure, but you’re stuck. You can’t move.
The figure reaches out their hand, and force lightning pours out from their fingertips. You drop your blue saber and extend your hand out, electricity shooting from your fingers with twice as much force. Your eyes glow a threatening, dark yellow.
You scream out as the hooded figure fights back, increasing his force, stepping closer towards you.
“The Mandalorian and the Child are mine now,” He says, his voice cold and cruel.
“No!” You shout. “N-“
“No!” Your eyes open wide as you push yourself up on your forearms. You practically smack your head on the roof of the bunk. You’re shivering. You can’t tell if it’s just the temperature of the ship, or if it’s a product of the nightmare you just had.
But that wasn’t just any nightmare, it was a vision. You had never seen that place, that planet before. And the pain you felt, it stemmed from a place, a feeling you just haven’t felt yet.
Love, true love.
You can hear the clunking of metal above you, and seconds later, Mando appears at the entrance to the bunk.
“Are you alright?” He’s panicked and practically shouting.
“Y-yeah,” You mumble. “Sorry if I woke you, it was just a nightmare.” That wasn’t the complete truth, but you figure he isn’t exactly ready for the truth just yet.
After all, you did just meet.
“Are you sure?” He presses. He isn’t buying it, and he’s completely right not to.
You sniffle and stir a bit under the covers. “I think so,” You lie again. You weren’t sure at all, and you certainly weren’t ‘alright’ in any capacity.
Mando sighs heavily through his modulator. “Do you want to talk about it, cyar’ika?”
You were shocked at how kind he was being. He could be so tough, so cold to his bounties. “What’s that mean, cyar’ika?” You question, trying your best to change the direction of the conversation.
“That’s not what’s important right now,” Mando says, dismissing your question entirely.
You smirk, attempting to convince him that you’re okay. “I’m fine, I mean it.”
Mando nods once and begins to slip out of the bunk. But as he leaves, you begin to regret telling him you were fine. His proximity to you had made the pain go away, just for a moment. Now you were back to being anxious and cold. Genuinely, you were freezing. You must be in deep space by now. You were more than positive that you wouldn’t be able to go to sleep like this.
You groan, embarrassed to call him back just as you had kicked him out. “Mando,” You call out. He’s back within seconds. “Can you…” You trail off, trying to find the right words. “Would you…” It’s impossible.
“I’ll stay with you.”
It’s like he can read your mind.
He strips off his armor, save his helmet, and slips in next to you. He brushes up against you for just a second, and practically pulls away instantly.
“Maker, you’re freezing,” He says. Suddenly, you feel his arm slowly wrap around your waist, hesitantly pulling you tightly against his chest. “Is this alright?” He asks. You’re too stunned to speak, so you simply hum a yes.
After a few minutes of lying like that, with your back up against his chest, you begin to feel better. Still, you can’t help but feel guilty, like you’re a burden to him, like this is something he has to do. You’re supposed to be powerful. You were a Jedi, a Sith, and yet a Mandalorian is being forced to take care of you.
“You don’t have to stay, you know. You can go back to the cockpit if you-,”
But he cuts you off. “I told you I would stay.” And so, he did.
Two weeks, You think to yourself. Two weeks.
And then you drifted off to sleep, without nightmares, without visions.
Just like yesterday
I told you I would stay
Would you always?
Make it easy?
Take your time
the burden of cherishing // (i missed you.) - (Din Djarin/The Mandalorian x afab!/gender neutral Reader)
Summary: Din realizes that he can no longer stand the icy tundra of loneliness. He didn’t even notice his heart had been encased in it before you and the kid came along and thawed it. Bubbling laughter and squeals of delight painted the Razor Crest in something less than somber.
Warnings: MATURE/EXPLICIT 18+ ONLY, no Y/N, p in v sex (unprotected), brief mention of oral (v receiving), sex in the razor crest (may it rest in pieces)
A/N: those star wars vanity fair photos came out and i was like damn, now i gotta write for din. also, the reader is actually a character i'm playing around with for a mandolorian fic that's been living in my head for months lol
Word Count: 1.18k
“I missed you.”
Din realizes, buried deep inside your heat, that he can no longer stand the icy tundra of loneliness. He didn’t even notice his heart had been encased in it before you and the kid came along and thawed it. Bubbling laughter and squeals of delight painted the Razor Crest in something less than somber.
Acknowledgement rumbles in his chest. He draws out of you, then gradually sinks back in. It’s a slow, sleepy pace. You’ve already been at it for hours in the dark crevice of his ship, holed up in the cockpit after putting the kid to sleep. Din had plunged his face between your thighs like a man starved, and drank everything that you gave until you were soaked and quivering.
You are safe and pliable beneath him. Worn-out limbs fever-warm - thighs embracing his rolling hips, arms slung loosely over his broad shoulders. Soft, blissed-out sighs whisper against his clavicle with every languid stroke.
Nine days apart. Nine days spent in the agony of unintended multitasking - head focused on the hunt of a bounty while his heart beat with worry over you and his kid. It was dreadful, having to care like this. Made him sick to his stomach wondering if you were keeping safe and well-fed back at Mos Eisley while he chased a bounty off-planet.
He had leveled you with a stare before leaving. One that bore into you through his visor while you held the child close. “No stealing,” he ordered, voice firm. With dwindling credits, you decided to take separate jobs to make the most in a shorter amount of time. The last thing he needed was for you to slip up, get sloppy and get caught while he was on another planet.
“Don’t worry, Mandalorian. I’ll make an honest living while you’re gone.” But he could see the mirth twinkling in your eyes. You were not making any promises.
And so your usual knack for trouble buzzed in his mind and made apprehension gnaw at his gut the entire time you were apart. He never worried like this before - Mandalorian clans were typically made up of others trained from childhood to be fierce, competent warriors. He somehow got saddled with an impish pickpocket and a baby.
He mouths as your jaw and sweat-slicked neck, and feels you clamp down tighter around him in response. It’s worth it, then, Din thinks; he’ll gladly carry the burden of cherishing you until he draws his last breath.
He pulls himself up, dragging his length nearly all the way out of you. The loss of chest-to-chest contact makes you whimper beneath him, the sound of it laced with sleep and longing.
“You’re not leaving me again so soon, are you?” The drowsiness in your voice endears him to you. Amuses him. Even with your sleep-addled bones, overworked from wave after wave of orgasm, you still crave more.
“No, cyar'ika,” he answers, the tenor of his voice a soothing balm in the warmed dark space of your intimacy.
His hand trails down against the curve of your hip until his fingers curl beneath your knee, hitching your leg up so your thigh presses against your torso. It remains anchored there, over his shoulder, so he can re-adjusts himself before sinking into you once more, burying himself to the hilt- this new angle hitting something crucial and sublime within.
“Oh,” you breathe out. He picks up the pace, drawing out more of those throaty, high-pitched moans from your slack-jawed lips.
Your wet, hot cunt constricts around him. Makes it hard for him to maintain clarity, maintain control. Still, he persists, steadily driving into you, marveling at how good you take him, how good your blossoming heat feels. After years of solitude in the cold recesses of the galaxy, caged away behind durable beskar, he took for granted the warmth of another being. Forgot what it felt like, really. He has not been without armor since childhood. When he donned the beskar and set out on his own in his youth, it was the violent heat of adrenaline that made him feel alive. But that has long since worn off. No longer did he have the fiery ruthlessness of a young Mandalorian. He became cold. Calculating. More withdrawn.
Din finds your lips in the darkness, slips his tongue into your wet, open mouth. He drinks in your slurred babbling, tastes the sweet yearning at the roof of your mouth. Bodies gliding flushed against each other, he wonders how he ever went without for so long. Pulling away from the kiss, he pulls your other leg up, practically folds you in a sticky, messy half, and bears down into you. You mewl beneath him- a malleable, sweaty heap of warmth. Perspiration clings to you both, makes the surrounding air deliciously thick. With a surety that makes up every fiber of his being, he will fight so he never has to go without again.
Dizzyingly, he reaches in between your bodies. Calloused fingers shove into the space, finding your swollen clit. You jerk at the contact, clench wetly down on his thrusting cock. It makes his hips stutter in time with your own faltering breath. He grunts, no longer able to keep that sensual, sluggish rhythm so he can draw this moment out between you. Giving in to the loss of control, he lets his gravelly voice bare his heart to you - never again, never leave you, you take me s-so well, cyar’ika-
His fingers draw messy circles on your abused bud, quick and wet and sloppy. It draws a sob from you. He can feel the swell of it, and grinds down into you, keeping his pelvis flush against the back of your thighs and the meat of your ass as he repeatedly stokes that spot inside you, the one that makes your pulse flare.
“C’mon, baby. Give me one more.”
That does it- you cry out, hands flying out to grip at his biceps as you strangle his cock with your spasming walls. The smack of flesh against flesh echoes in inky blackness as he chases his own end through your orgasm, panting wetly against your knee. His erection throbs within you, painfully hard until it finally releases rope after rope of cum into your slick. You welcome it, thighs quivering as he finishes pumping into you until he has nothing left to give.
Your legs slide off his shoulders, allowing him to collapse his weight onto you as he begins to soften within. It is hot, and it is sticky, but neither of you seem to mind.
Fingers find their way into his damp hair, carding delicately, sleepily through the locks as you both catch your breath. Slumber hovers mere inches away. He’ll drag out and off of you in a second so you can breathe easier, sleep comfortably without being smothered under the weight of him. But for now, he embraces the sultry warmth of your bodies pressed together in the dark. Entertains the thought that like this, his heart can never freeze over again.
Family day at the beach!
Din: is that kyber?
Luke: you don't find kyber at the beach, Din!
Din: oh. I got excited for a minute.
Happy Sleepover Saturday Laura! Could I please request “you’re cute when you’re nervous.” with Din?
Hope you’re having a good day! 💕
Hi, J! I am so happy to oblige...
Din x f!reader who works in the cantina. Just some allusions to reader thinking thots about Din
The other servers are fighting amongst themselves behind the bar in the cantina.
"Listen, the little green kid is cute but that Mandalorian is scary. I can't tell where he's looking."
"Yeah well, I took care of him last time. He doesn't order anything for himself. It's weird."
You step forward. "It's alright, I'll go." You try to contain the nerves in your stomach. Not because he's scary - you don't find him threatening at all.
It's because he...does something to you.
Maybe it's the broad shoulders or his low voice, or maybe the way his visor locks in on you when you take his order.
Maybe it's the soft thank you when you bring his baby extra food or when you pack up snacks that he didn't order for him to eat later.
You make your way over to the table in the corner, the one he chooses whenever he comes in. You walk up with a little smile. "Hey there, it's been a bit since we've seen you in here. How are you doing little one?" you ask, leaving over and giving Grogu a scritch between his ears.
"Been busy," Mando replies, watching the interaction in front of him. Your heart flutters when you hear his voice. "The kid will have whatever you think looks best today, and -"
You cut him off. "And nothing for you, got it." You offer a little smile before turning on your heels and marching back to the kitchen to harass the cook for something Grogu-friendly. Butterflies have made a permanent home in your stomach and you shake your head to try to focus on the task at hand.
But his voice...mmm, his voice. How can he just say a few words like that and send you into an absolute spiral? You wonder for the millionth time what he looks like under that helmet.
A few minutes later you're back at the table with stew and some bread for Grogu, as well as a little cup of cold water that he can get his hands around. You place everything down on the table and turn to leave, but his voice stops you.
"Do you...want to sit with us for a minute? I have a favor to ask."
You look back at him, then around to the mostly empty cantina. Surely, a few minutes won't hurt.
You sit down awkwardly and blush when you look up at Mando who is staring back at you. You wait...and wait...and wait. Is he going to say anything?
Grogu lets out a little wail of frustration as he tries to eat the soup by himself. Mando reaches out to help, but you beat him to it. "Shh, it's ok, love. Let me help," you say as you start to feed him. After a few more moments, you break the silence.
"So? You had a favor to ask?" you prompt Mando.
Mando clears his throat. "So, the kid is going to be staying with me indefinitely. I need...help. There are gonna be some jobs I can't do if I'm watching him."
You stop to look at him. "You want to leave Grogu here with me?"
"No," he answers quickly. "I want you to come with me. On my ship."
You're so startled you knock over Grogu's drink, sending it flying across the table. Grogu starts whimpering and you immediately pick him up, bouncing him and soothing his cries with apologies. "You want me...to go...w-with you?" Your face is flushed and your heart is pounding in your chest. Could you live with this man, this wall of a man, day in and day out? Share the same small space, pressed up against each other as you move around? Could you sleep imagining him in the next room with all his armor off, soft and strong and there?
"Are you afraid of me?" he asks plainly.
"Of course not!" you exclaim. Not like that, anyway. Not like most people are.
"You're nervous. You're..." he trails off.
"I'm what?" you ask, looking at him where you imagine his eyes to be.
"You're cute when you're nervous," he says quietly.
Your heart drops to the bottom of your stomach. Did he just say what you think he said?
You could play coy, like so many of the other girls do, or you can do what your heart is telling you to do.
"Well that's not fair, I can't tell how cute you are when you get nervous," you say, motioning to the helmet. His shoulders - those broad fucking shoulders- give a little shrug, and you can practically hear the smile on his voice.
"You're right, that isn't fair. But the offer still stands...I think the kid would like for you to come. So would I."
You think for a moment and then smile. "When do we leave?"
Artwork for my series The Fox, The Mage, and The Cupboard (ft. Eldergrove's resident mage, her fox familiar Javi, the mysterious Pero Tovar, and her best friend Din Djarin) created by the amazingly talented Ko5by on Instagram. Go check out her stunning content!
(Please note, this artwork features the Reader character based off my own personal appearance because that is what I requested. Within the series itself, no physical characteristics are described so all readers can enjoy)
You wanna know what the most unrealistic thing in Star Wars is? The fact that everyone knows which buttons to press despite the fact that NOTHING IS EVER LABELLED.
WANDERLUST // MASTER LIST
Din Djarin x Reader
Based on Disney’s Tangled
Summary: You dream of traveling your world and seeing the galaxy, but are hidden away, forbidden from ever stepping foot outside. Due to an altercation, you meet a Mandalorian, a small green child who just might be able to help make your dream come true.