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cowboy-turtle · 3 years

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16 - din djarin

im so excited to read your puppy pascal review of this one 💕writing din intimidates me like no other, hence the doubled word count… i went a little overboard…

(endless thx to @letterfromvienna @tuskens-mando & @lowlights who helped me figure out this relationship - love u babes!)

February Fluff Prompt #16: “I don’t care where I’m sleeping, as long as it’s with you.”

Pairing: Din Djarin x f!Reader

Word Count: 1.9k

Tags: Book of Boba Fett spoilers!; mutual pining; fluff; like one sentence of angst

ct's february fluff masterlist | regular masterlist

“I’ve never been off planet before.”

You don’t know what compelled you to tell Din that. The cantina was closed for the night, lights dimmed low just enough for you to catch the metal glint of his helmet tilting in question.

“Really?”

You’d been trading travel stories, his filled with all the different places he’d been to track a bounty. Yours were tethered solely within the barren atmosphere of Tatooine. You were born here, and you would have been content living out your days here. Until you met Din.

You suddenly feel embarrassed for admitting that, so inexperienced in your life compared to his. You can’t hide behind your hands though, occupied as they are currently cradling the slack weight of a slumbering Grogu. You’d be remiss to move an inch and wake him.

You’d struck an odd sort of arrangement to get here. Din had ventured back to Mos Pelgo (or Freetown as Cobb insisted, but you hated the new name) in search of a place to hide away for a while. The Marshall had pointed him in your direction, and you took him in over loyalty to the lawman. You didn’t ask questions, and he didn’t provide answers. You were the new keeper of the sole cantina in town, the previous bartender in deserved semi-retirement. In exchange you were allowed the floor above as your living quarters, the staircase in the supply backroom an easy daily commute.

He was a quiet roommate, respectable, generous with his please and thank yous when you brought up food for the foundling he kept hidden away. One night he’d left with Cobb on a business matter and you could no longer ignore the faint cries you heard upstairs. You were shocked to find green skin and giant ears poking out of the pram, but the Mandalorian came back to find you cooing at the creature, swaddled in your arms to aid his journey to sleep.

They left soon after that, but not without the promise that your door was always open should they ever return. Mando (or Din as he revealed, and you cherished this new name) kept you to your word many times, stopping by whenever he was on planet.

Slowly over time you opened up to one another, murmured conversations over morning caf and gentle touches to pass each other in the hallways at the end of a long day. It came to a point where Din no longer waited for you to walk him upstairs when he arrived, instead passing by the busy bar you maintained with a simple nod in your direction to announce his presence.

I don’t think he visits for me anymore, Cobb mentioned to you with a smirk. You didn’t respond, turning instead to hide the shy smile creeping along your face.

The three of you had been talking through the night, Cobb taking up airspace to discuss the modifications he’d like to do on his speeder. It was built from a 620C podracing engine, and so naturally the conversation drifted to the activity.

“What is podracing?” Din had asked.

“I used to do it as a kid,” you revealed, nervous for his reaction.

Cobb whistled low. “That’s a dangerous sport.”

That only intrigued him more, so you tell him all about the rules and regulations, of Boonta races and energy binders, of your cherished Vulptereen 327 that ended your career when it suffered a cataclysmic crash. It did little to squash your love for racing, though, apparent when you’re still talking about it long after the marshall’s departure. You’re tracing the old route you used to take, telling Din how tricky it was getting through Beggar’s Canyon when you sigh.

“I wish I felt something as thrilling as that used to be.”

Din regards you for a quiet moment, then a slow question filters through. “Can I show you something?”

He gets up when you nod but the cantina lights only blink off, the pitch black of the desert sky outside making it so you can’t even see your own hand waving in front of you.

“Din,” you complain, “I can’t see anything.”

The hiss of his helmet disengaging announces his close presence. “I know.”

When his lips met yours, the thrill that ran through you was better than winning any race.

The next time he visited, it was only for a quick drop-off. He was going after a trickier bounty, unsure of how long it would take, and he’d asked for you to look after Grogu in his absence.

“This one’s…difficult.” He tried to explain. “I’d feel better if he stayed with you.”

You accepted without a passing thought, and when you walked him to the door the next morning he stopped, turning back to you.

“If anything happens, take care of him for me.” And then he was gone.

You’d brushed away the request, hopeful he’d be back before the little womp rat even noticed. But each new day only left you more worried, and each new person walking through the entrance that wasn’t him only left you more on edge.

You’re alone tending an empty bar when one of them won’t leave you in peace, too drunk to form a coherent sentence and growing angrier by the second that you won’t serve him. He’s much too big for you to take on, and you worry that any outcome of this exchange is going to wake the sleeping child upstairs. Your hand touches the cool metal of the blaster tucked under the bar when the man steps towards you.

“I don’t think you heard her right.”

Both of you turn to the doorway of the backroom, a broad, imposing frame taking up the entire space of it. Din’s hand rests easy on the holster at his hip, waiting for the other guy’s choice. He mumbles something rude before stumbling out, leaving Din to wrap you in his arms when you rush to him.

“I didn’t see you get in,” you mumble into the hard plane of his chestplate.

“I just wanted to check on the kid first.”

You crane your neck up to see his visor gazing down at you. You smile up at him.

“I’d offer you a drink as thanks, but I’m not sure how you’ll be able to enjoy it.” You could tell, somehow, he was smiling in response.

That’s how you ended up here, Grogu asleep in your arms after waking from Din’s arrival. In the quiet of the closed cantina he tells you about the wild travels this latest bounty put him on, and you tell him how you’ve never left this pitiful desert surface.

“You’ve never been off planet,” Din repeats your words. “Would you want to, someday?”

You swallow dryly. “Maybe.”

It felt like an invitation. Come with us, you can almost hear him say, but instead he stands up.

“I should get him to bed.” He reaches towards the slumbering mass in your arms, disappearing behind the bar a moment later.

It leaves you with a silence that makes you question what your answer would be if he asked. But you’re not given enough time to reach a conclusion, the lights flickering lower, then off to signal Din’s return. You hear the now familiar hiss of his helmet, and then he finds you.

The next time he leaves, he doesn’t come back. Or rather, when he does, he’s different. He’s alone.

There’s one place on Tattooine he wants to be, but he has a stop in Mos Eisley first. A promise for a new ship had lured him here, and he’s taken to one that’s more engine than cargo space. But it’s lightning fast, Peli promises, faster than any racer can go. When she asks if he wants any route suggestions for a test drive, he declines and pulls up a map to Beggar’s Canyon. He knows exactly where to go.

The gleaming metal of the starfighter in harsh sunlight draws you outside to the small group gathering around the new ship. Din seems to stop talking to the others when he sees you approaching, stepping to you once you’re near enough.

“Want to go for a ride?”

The droid port has been refashioned into a tiny second seat, just enough space for you to cram in behind him as he readies for takeoff. The liftoff is bumpy, but once you’re in flight it feels like you’re crawling at a bantha’s pace. He calls your name to grab your attention.

“What?” you shout over the roar of the engine.

Din repeats himself, louder. “Hold on.”

And then you’re pushed backwards, the force of the starfighter’s sudden speed making you cling to your seat in a white-knuckle grip. You’re racing past sand dunes and settlements faster than you ever thought possible, heart soaring in your throat with adrenaline. Din can barely hear your laugh over the whir of motor and wind, but it makes him smile nonetheless.

A familiar route begins to come up before you: the Notch, Diablo Cut, Dead Man’s Turn. Before you can reach the Desert Plain and the end of the podracing circuit Din pulls up, up, taking you out of the canyon and towards the endless blue sky.

A new sensation makes your body feel weightless, a panicked sound escaping when you try to resettle.

“It’s alright,” Din soothes, and you notice it’s easier to hear him as the air changes around you. “We’re just leaving the atmosphere, the feeling will go away in a minute.”

“We…we’re going off planet?” The skies around you grow darker and then suddenly you’re pushing through into space. Din flips a few switches and your speed slows, settling into a gentle glide.

“That’s right.”

You dazedly take in the deep expanse of the galaxy behind your bubble of glass. It was like seeing the Dune Sea stretch out in front of you for the first time, except even more all-consuming in its vastness. There’s no other word to describe it except awe.

“You get to see this every day?” you whisper breathlessly, mesmerized.

A soft chuckle comes from the cockpit. “I do.”

Din lets you take in your surroundings at an easy pace, cruising through the blackness of space. There’s no concept of time out here, and the idea of that enraptures you in a terrifyingly beautiful way.

“It’s getting late,” Din says after a long journey of companionable silence. “And we’re running low on fuel.”

You tense. “How are we getting back?”

“We’ll have to stop on Arvala-7.” It’s only then do you notice he’s pointed you in the direction of a new planet, readying the ship for arrival. You touch down at a refueling station, Din helping your stiff joints climb out of the cramped seat. He stops a passing attendant.

“Where’s the closest settlement with an inn?”

Your head whips to him as the man gestures with an answer.

“We’re sleeping here?”

Din looks at you. “Unless you want to go back?”

Your bottom lip catches between your teeth in worry. “Don’t you want to sleep in a familiar bed?”

The attendants finish with the ship and rehook the fuel pump, scurrying away. Now alone Din draws you closer to him, arms around your waist as his helmet bends to rest upon your forehead. The gesture calms you until your breath slows in unison with his.

“Mesh’la, I don’t care where I’m sleeping, as long as it’s with you.”

You open your eyes, knowing his are looking back. You can’t go back, you realize now, not to the person you used to be before knowing him. Wherever he was going, you were sure to follow. He straightens up then, motioning towards the starfighter.

“Ready to go?”

You nod. “I’m ready.”

taglist: @1800-fight-me @microsoftcraint @thisgirl-knm @dobbyjen @arahxdjarin @triggerhappyflygirl @athalien @phandoz @queen0fchaos @c4psicle @sunnshineeexoxo @@mrsudontknowme @rosethornxs @wyofabdoms @mandosmistress @thirddeadlysin @kissasith @cmc1014 @morenhoe @mssbridgerton

#ct's february fluff #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin #pedro pascal character fanfiction

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