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shadowsshowdown · 1 year

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Deus Ex: Human Revolution Shadow’s Showdown: Chapter 6

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The Mysterious Man.

Laura's apartment. The streets of Detroit.

Laura still couldn't believe that Frank had sent her home so suddenly with an order not to show up at the company until she will be fully recovered. Of course, he wouldn't be himself if he hadn't given her some extra papers to look over. After all, free time should be put to good use. For the moment, Laura had other things on her mind. She was just about to leave for a doctor's appointment. Sarif undoubtedly cares about his employees, and she will be examined today. Usually, she had to wait until the next day at least. Dressed in a long-sleeved, orange crew neck sweater, leather biker jacket, dark blue jeans, and biker boots, she left the house. The corridors were quiet today, no quarrels, no parties, no usual cooked food smell. Fortunately, she didn't bump into a nosey neighbor either.

The medication accomplished their job and Laura felt less terrible, but only a little. She could call a cab or go by subway, but for the time being, she was short of money and should save some for a rainy day. So she had to walk. Luckily it was a relatively warm day for the fall season, and the sun cheered her up a bit. Laura took a quick look at the huge screen from which Eliza Cassan was broadcasting the latest live news from Picus TV. Whenever she looked at her, it seemed to have something artificial about her, but she couldn't pinpoint what. She passed by passionate lovers who were close to having sex on the street. Several times she was hit by strangers hurrying somewhere, but she did not possess the strength to argue about the stupid ‘Sorry’. She took out smartphone from the handbag and plugged in headphones. A moment later music muffled unpleasant sounds of the city.

There's not just lies and hate behind the make up on my face but I'm so good in playing this game I played the game all day, all night A million times I crossed the line but in the end just anguish remains

When everything's destroyed We find a heart inside the void

She saw the policemen checking the ID of some shady types. Laura turned right and crossed the street at the traffic lights. A few minutes later she was at the local clinic. Several people were waiting in a large waiting room. The phone was ringing in the distance and children, as usual, were making noise, despite their parents warnings. Laura approached the reception desk, separated from the rest of the room by a glass pane. The receptionist was filling out some overdue paperwork on the computer, but seeing her she stopped instantly and smiled kindly.

"How can I aid you?" she asked politely, fixing her blonde hair tied up in a bun. "I have an appointment for today." Werner replied, gently bringing the smartphone closer to the reader. "That's right." the woman confirmed right after seeing the data sent from the phone. "Consulting-room number 16. The doctor will see you in a moment." her bangs moved as she tilted her head and glanced back at the monitor.

When Laura stepped back from the reception, a woman went back to work. It had been maybe half an hour when Werner left the consulting-room. On her way home, she stopped by the pharmacy to purchase some prescribed medicine and also did some grocery shopping, just in case. During her week off, she preferred limiting going out to the absolute minimum, and preferably hole up inside four walls and catch up on some good old movies. Unfortunately, Frank had other plans for her. He was already messing up with her free time, and it was only a matter of time that he’ll come up with something new. As the auburn-haired girl was leaving the store, she was accidentally hit by a stranger. The paper bag fell on the ground and several apples rolled out from the inside.

"I'm terribly sorry. I'm so clumsy." the stranger said politely. Gazing at her with brown, slightly frightened, eyes.

He looked completely ordinary. Man in his late thirties with round face, more or less three days facial hair and black hair cut short.

"Let me help you." he offered, starting gathering scattered things.

She initially looked at a dark red sweatshirt underneath his warm, gray jacket. When he stood up and flicked the dust off his knees, she noticed frayed jeans and high-hop sneakers. The man froze for a moment, examining her closely.

"I think we've met in the past." he slowly said, squinting his right eye and pointing his finger at Laura. "I don't think so." she replied, trying to avoid further conversation. "But of course! Ten years ago in Berlin, Lemon-Lime techno club." stranger was trying to help Laura in refreshing her memory. "I don't remember, I really do. Sorry but I'm in a hurry. " Laura fixed the paper bags she was wrapping with her arms and was ready to leave. "Evie. I just recalled your name." he suddenly said self-satisfied. "I'm sorry but I'm not Evie." she cut the conversation.

The unknown man stared after her for a moment longer, then moved off in his own direction. Laura quickened her pace. She felt insecure after this conversation as if the past had suddenly started coming back. This uncertainty quickly evolved into fear, a panicky kind of fear that takes your breath away, crawls in the recesses of your soul, and awaits for the precise moment. Loneliness didn't serve her at all. She should create at least the appearance of being surrounded by friends. Maybe tighten relations with Faridah would help? After all, she’s the only person, who doesn’t hate her for now.

"Can I assist you, Miss Werner?"

That voice again. Jensen's fake-sweet, slightly hoarse voice.

"But of course." she replied with a disarming smile, handing him both bags.

Adam wasn't the person she wished to encounter at the moment, but she shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth. The head of security at her side looked like a purebred bodyguard from a top agency. Notably that he was much taller than her. The only thing missing was dark glasses.

"Are you following me?" The auburn-haired girl disturbed the silence with a question she quickly regretted. "I'm unused to following people, and certainly not after working hours." he replied briefly. She could have sworn she noticed how the corner of his lips twitched in a smirk."I see." the woman nodded. "So it's only a pure coincidence?" Laura inquired, glancing at him. "Not at all." Jensen denied and explained. "I just happen to live over there in the Chiron Building." "Fuck..." she thought, feeling herself blushing. Miss Werner turned out to be an absolute idiot again. "Are you feeling unwell?" Adam asked with honest concern. "Just a cold, nothing serious." Hacker girl tried to provide a convenient excuse, but luckily they had already arrived at her house door. "Much appreciated for your help, and now if you'll excuse me, I should get back to bed and take my medication." "In that case, I wish you a swift recovery." he replied, handing her the bags.

She watched as he nimbly slipped between the cars, keeping his hands in his coat pockets. A moment later he reached the entrance and disappeared behind the door of the Chiron Building.

"I'm terribly sorry. I'm so clumsy." the stranger said politely. Gazing at her with brown, slightly frightened, eyes.

He looked completely ordinary. Man in his late thirties with round face, more or less three days facial hair and black hair cut short.

"Let me help you." he offered, starting gathering scattered things.

"I think we've met in the past." he slowly said, squinting his right eye and pointing his finger at Laura. "I don't think so." she replied, trying to avoid further conversation.

"But of course! Ten years ago in Berlin, Lemon-Lime techno club." stranger was trying to help Laura in refreshing her memory. "I don't remember, I really do. Sorry but I'm in a hurry. " Laura fixed the paper bags she was wrapping with her arms and was ready to leave. "Evie. I just recalled your name." he suddenly said self-satisfied. "I'm sorry but I'm not Evie." she cut the conversation.

"Can I assist you, Miss Werner?"

That voice again. Jensen's fake-sweet, slightly hoarse voice.

"But of course." she replied with a disarming smile, handing him both bags.

She could have sworn she noticed how the corner of his lips twitched in a smirk."I see." the woman nodded. "So it's only a pure coincidence?" Laura inquired, glancing at him.

"Not at all." Jensen denied and explained. "I just happen to live over there in the Chiron Building." "Fuck..." she thought, feeling herself blushing. Miss Werner turned out to be an absolute idiot again. "Are you feeling unwell?" Adam asked with honest concern. "Just a cold, nothing serious." Hacker girl tried to provide a convenient excuse, but luckily they had already arrived at her house door. "Much appreciated for your help, and now if you'll excuse me, I should get back to bed and take my medication." "In that case, I wish you a swift recovery." he replied, handing her the bags.

She watched as he nimbly slipped between the cars, keeping his hands in his coat pockets. A moment later he reached the entrance and disappeared behind the door of the Chiron Building.

Laura's apartment.

Finally, she found a shelter among the walls of her home, away from the whole world, and above all from Adam. Laura decided that for her own benefit she would tame this Cerberus, to stand by her side when the past will claim for her. Jensen is intelligent and only by adapting to his level, she may get a tiny chance of success. Her thoughts were hanged in time as she changed into a blue Grumpy Cat t-shirt and black sweatpants. Right after that she fed the cat and made herself cocoa. This always cheers her up. Before leaving the kitchen, she unpacked her groceries, took medicines and smartphone with her. Laura put pills and a bottle of syrup on the bedside table. With a sour face, the girl realized that this illness costs her a lot of money.Again she found herself in the same habit of sipping cocoa and staring at the Chiron Building. Large terrace window gave her a pretty good view of Detroit. Today she didn't mind the bright neon lights, nor those emanating from other buildings. Today they were indifferent to Laura because something else bothered her more. It had been a long time since she had felt such fear. Those few minutes spent with Adam gave her a sense of security. A certainty that nothing bad could happen during that time. Now she was completely alone, and although she was protected by the walls, it was only a false feeling. Cold walls are no match for warm, strong arms. As the minutes passed, Laura continued watching what was happening in each window of the Chiron Building. The familiar figure reappeared and stopped. Now she was pretty sure it might be him. The irrational feeling that he was looking at her took hold of her mind. Was it even possible he could see her from such a distance? Laura felt her head spinning. Suddenly legs bent under her like thin, dry sticks. The cup of unfinished cocoa shattered on the ground, creating a wet, brown stain. She lost consciousness only for a moment, but it felt as if some piece of her life had been ripped out like pages from a notebook. The fever was back again, followed by a wave of fatigue. Laura took the prescribed medication and changed into her pajamas. She didn't even know when she fell asleep.In the morning she habitually reached for her phone to check what time it was. She noticed one new message but figured it was probably some stupid advertisement about penis enlargement or lottery winning."Are you okay Miss Werner?"Immediately after reading it, questions arose. First, how did he get her number? Secondly, why does he suddenly care about her? Third, isn't it just another trick? She looked closely at the time the message was sent and concluded it was around the time she fell. So he must have seen it then, or the content of the message is a pure coincidence. Laura had limited faith in coincidences, though."I was a bit knocked off my feet. Don't worry, Mr. Jensen, I'm still alive."She didn't have to wait long for a reply."That's a relief, but be careful. The company could lose a lot.""The company or you?"That was the end of the courtesy exchange. Jensen either wouldn't or couldn't write her back. Laura rolled out of bed, slipped into her bathrobe, and went to the kitchen. She had to eat anything, although she did not feel like it at all. The fever was now accompanied by a runny nose and a cough. Her head ached as if someone had hit it with a hammer. The medicines helped a little, but only a little. For the rest of the day, she wandered like a spectre through the haunted mansion full of tissues, and tried to stop thinking about that mysterious man.

All chapters can be found: [AO3], [dA], [Wattpad] and [Tumblr]

#Deus Ex #DXHR #Deus Ex Human Revolution #Adam Jensen #Shadowfanfic #crunchy-shadow #Shadow's Showdown #Nifriel #I never asked for this #Fanfiction #Evie Dormer OC #Joe Mando OC #Chapter 6: The Mysterious Man.#cyberpunk #writers on tumblr

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thefrogdalorian · 3 months

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hi spud! i remembered u did requests & was wondering if maybe u could do like a first kiss scenario w din? 🥺 something soft & yearn-y? aha. no worries if u can't but thanks anyways. 🩷

Hello Senna! Thank you so much for your request! Thinking about a first kiss with Din really inspired me (how does he hide his face from you and still kiss you? What leads up to the moment?? so many questions!!) and this was the result. There is plenty of yearning and some softness sprinkled in but a little angst too (very happy ending though aghhhdkgj). Thanks again and really hope you like it!! 🤍

A New Dawn

Din Djarin x GN!Reader

Word Count: 5107

Rating: General

Summary: Travelling through the galaxy with a mysterious nameless and faceless Mandalorian with a reputation as the best bounty hunter in the parsec would probably terrify most people. Instead, over the months you have known Mando, you have discovered his gentler, more affectionate side. Living in such proximity to the man you have an enormous crush on threatens to suffocate you as you determine that he must never find out. But after a job seemingly goes badly wrong on a forest planet, the fear of losing him will perhaps finally be the tipping point for a new dawn in your relationship...

Content Warnings: Kissing, bit of angst when there's brief panic for Din/reader's safety (happy ending though!), allusions to violence (canon-typical, nothing descriptive/graphic).

✯ My Masterlist ✯ Read on AO3 ✯

Upon that fateful day on which you had entered an agreement with a bounty hunter, you had been under no illusions that there would be much unpredictability given his line of work. That there would be periods of isolation when he left you behind in his ship while he went in search of his latest bounty. You could be alone on that ship for weeks; well, save for the big-eared, bug-eyed green baby, whose care you had been entrusted with, by the mysterious man who was your employer. When agreeing to travel with The Mandalorian, you had expected the randomness of the path that you cut through the galaxy, journeying from planet to planet depending on his latest jobs. The anguish that came with wondering where he was and whether the jobs were going well as you sat in the Razor Crest and cared for his child. Despite how much it had bothered you at first, you had gradually become used to such emotions. You expected them.

What you had never expected was the fondness you had developed for the man.

The first few times that Mando had headed off the ship for a job, you had been almost nonchalant about his absence, barely noticing the passage of time. You passed your days playing with The Child when you were not fast asleep in your bunk. But slowly and surely, he had begun to mean something more to you. You noticed it in his absence most of all. The ship felt empty without his deep voice and you missed his calm, reassuring presence.

It was strange really, considering that you had never laid eyes upon him. In fact, you had rarely seen him dressed in anything less than his full armour, complete with all the weapons he attached to himself almost ritualistically, without fail, every single day. Even if you were merely hurtling through hyperspace, he was still armed to the teeth. Mando had explained that weapons were part of his religion and his armour was like a second skin to him. You were curious, but not judgmental, about his way of life. It was vastly different to your own and entirely contradictory to anything you had ever heard about Mandalorians before. Even the scant information you had overheard about the formidable warriors in the miserable Cantina where you had once been employed had never included anything about Mandalorians being forbidden from removing their helmets in the presence of others.

Mando had made it abundantly clear, before you ever stepped foot aboard the Razor Crest, that wearing his helmet was a definitive boundary, never to be questioned or pushed. It was his ultimate line in the sand that you were never to cross. You were respectful of his Creed, asking questions with a curious rather than invasive intention which he seemed to appreciate. In fact, rather than driving a wedge between you, his Way had provoked many thoughtful conversations between the two of you.

There were nights you would sit in the cockpit as the brilliant blue trails of hyperspace surrounded you, bonding over your similar pasts. Sometimes, you would wake up in the bunk underneath the tiny hammock that belonged to The Child with no memory of clambering in the previous night. He never admitted it, but you were almost certain that Mando had carried you there himself, putting his impressive physique to use for something other than hauling bounties back to the Razor Crest.

Amongst it all, you had learned his habits and quirks. You learned the way he liked his caf in the morning. How meticulous he was with polishing his armour until it gleamed so brightly, even in the dark of hyperspace, that you could see every detail of your reflection, right down to your pores. You discovered that he cleaned his weapons, taking them apart and checking every inch of them when he was particularly stressed or his bounties were not as straightforward as he had hoped.

Most of all, you discovered how incredibly kind and caring the man beneath the hard, intimidating armour truly was.

Although he had weapons strapped to every inch of his body, Mando could be impossibly gentle. You had witnessed evidence of his ruthless efficiency when he returned to the ship laden with several bounties. Sometimes alive, sometimes dead, though he usually prevented you from seeing the more grisly sights. Yet the man you saw most often of all, moving around the Razor Crest with you as you hurtled around the galaxy, amongst the stars was different to reconcile with the violent nature of his profession.

It was difficult to believe that the hands that had earned him the reputation as the most formidable bounty hunter in the parsec due to their proficiency in neutralising even elusive targets were the very same hands that were impossibly gentle when placing The Child in his hammock. The same hands that had extinguished countless lives had been used to rock the little one after he awoke from the nightmares that frequently plagued him. Nightmares that plagued Mando, too. But you had never been bold enough to bring up the tossing and turning you had heard from his bunk pretty much every night since you had started travelling with him. Despite the relatively personal conversations and information you had gleaned from him, it still felt a step too far. You didn’t want to cause him to shut down by prying, especially not after he had seemed to become genuinely comfortable in your presence and show you the gentler side of his nature.

You felt so privileged to see such a side to him. It was a side that you had never expected to witness. After all, you had been utterly terrified the first time you encountered him, when he strutted into the run-down Cantina you worked in. He was impossible not to stare at, clad in that unpainted armour that glinted when the light hit it in just the right spot. You had never seen a Mandalorian in the flesh before, but you had heard plenty of legends about them. Mandalorians were famed across the galaxy for their ruthless, lethal accuracy and formidable fighting skills.

That feeling of gratitude had soon developed into something else, though. A feeling that you would class as affection, albeit affection that was veering dangerously close into the territory of a four-letter word that your mind could not even contemplate. A feeling that would be all too dangerous to harbour for a man who you still felt you knew so little about.

You were certain that your feelings for Mando were doing untold damage to your health. Living in such proximity to a man you harboured a devastatingly intense crush towards would one day succeed in suffocating you. Your chest ached whenever he was near, knowing that there was no possibility he could ever reciprocate your feelings. You knew that your love would remain unrequited. Above all, you knew that he must never, ever discover the depths of your affection towards him.

There were more than a few times you had dissolved into tears during a few moments of solitude in the ‘fresher; your salty tears mixing with the hot jets of water from the Razor Crest’s shower. One particular occasion, when your feelings had left you particularly devastated, was the evening when Mando had returned from his latest job, during which he had to terminate the asset after one escape attempt too many. The asset’s termination would result in a lower fee and you knew that was partially the reason for Mando’s frustration. Yet, despite his reputation, you also knew that he did not relish killing bounties, much preferring to lure them back to the ship and freeze them in carbonite. In everything you knew about him, it appeared that Mando did not get a particular thrill from killing people that he, personally, had no qualms with. Although you knew that if anyone ever threatened even one white hair on the wrinkled little head of The Child, Mando would not hesitate to cut them down where they stood.

That evening, The Mandalorian’s exasperation had been evident from the second he had returned to the Razor Crest, ordering you and The Child to hide in the cockpit while he stored the remains so you would not have to witness such a gruesome sight. You knew immediately that the job had not been easy and your heart ached for him. When Mando had given you the all-clear, you had descended the ladder down to the main hull of the ship with shaky hands and legs. Your trembling limbs did not come from the fact you were descending the rungs one-handed and carefully cradling The Child in your other arm, you were well used to that. No, you were dreading seeing Mando so frustrated… because of the way it made you feel. Seeing him so wound up, knowing that you were the one to put his pieces back together in your own subtle way thrilled you. It was a dangerous prospect.

“I take it the job wasn’t successful?” You questioned, tone neutral. You attempted to appear as nonchalant as possible as you handed The Child to him. You hoped that taking the little one in his arms would go some way to calming him down.

“No,” Mando responded, definitively. His tone of voice made it abundantly clear that he did not want to discuss the matter further with you.

“Perhaps I could put The Child to bed, while you take a shower?” You offered, wanting to do anything to soothe his frayed nerves.

Mando shook his head.

“I’ll do it, thanks,” he added gruffly.

You nodded before turning your back and climbing the ladder back up to the cockpit to give them their space. There was hardly any privacy in a ship so compact. Sometimes it could feel slightly claustrophobic aboard the Razor Crest, but you and Mando had worked a pretty good system out by now so you did not feel as though you were constantly on top of each other. You learned that he was a surprisingly patient man and did not express his anger in the way one might have expected from one capable of so much violence.

It was no surprise when you descended the rungs a while later to find him standing in front of the weapons cabinet, broad shoulders tensed as he examined his impressively-stocked armoury. You didn’t say a word, wondering whether he was about to tell you to return to the cockpit and leave him alone. Though you hoped that he would interpret your presence as a comforting one, not an invasive one.

“Could you pass me the cleaning cloth, please?” Mando asked.

“Of course,” you replied, opening the crate where he kept his cleaning equipment. You selected the cloth that you knew he favoured and handed it to him, the corners of your lips curving upwards in a slight, shy smile.

“Thank you,” Mando said appreciatively as his gloved hand rested on your upper arm and squeezed it gently. You sensed that he was thanking you for much more than passing him the cloth. Something about his touch and the way he said it had sickened you to your core.

“I‘m gonna take a shower,” was all you managed to say, before you turned away from him.

You had practically sprinted to the ‘fresher then, needing privacy more than anything as you crumbled. As tears streamed down your cheeks, you tortured yourself over and over asking the same question:

How could a man capable of such violence be so gentle with you?

Your soul was truly tortured by the feelings that you held for this man.

It was that moment you thought of now. A moment amongst many others, as you sat and waited for Mando to return from his latest assignment. You were accustomed to days turning to weeks and weeks even turning to months on the rare occasion. It was a solitary experience, just you and The Child in the Razor Crest. You would not see another life form for weeks. Nor would you speak to anyone other than The Child. You weren't always certain whether he understood you. Mando always left a comlink with you, but it was reachable only by him. It was strictly for emergencies. In all the months that you had travelled with him, it had never once sounded when he was off on a mission. It had led you to wonder whether it even worked at all.

Occasionally, Mando would permit you to leave the ship but on particularly hostile planets, you were confined to the silver hull of his home, with just your ration packs and the mysterious green child for company.

This particular planet was one of such peril. Thus, Mando had forbidden you from leaving the ship. Although you always respected his demands, for The Child’s as much as your own sake, you adored the little guy, the loneliness was beginning to eat into your gut and make you feel grouchy after such a long period of isolation. Mando had told you that he expected the job to last no more than three days, but it was ten since he had crept out in the dead of night, armed to the teeth in pursuit of a crime lord who had made one enemy too many.

As you lay back on the bunk, thinking of the man who had unexpectedly left such a deep impression on your heart, The Child began mewling. You instantly sat up, sighing softly as you reached into his hammock and stroked the end of one of his large green ears between your thumb and forefinger.

“What’s up, buddy?” You questioned, rocking him gently and hoping that you had prevented him from dissolving into gut-wrenching sobs.

The Child just gazed at you with his big brown eyes, expression unreadable.

“Do you want something to eat?” You asked, often knowing that the way to soothe his heart was through his stomach.

The Child finally gave some indication of what was wrong with a small nod and you opened the door to the bunk and made your way towards the fortunately still well-stocked cupboards. Fortunately, Mando was fastidious in always ensuring there was enough food for the two of you. You appreciated that all the more as you gave The Child a bar which he wolfed down in only a couple of bites, despite his tiny frame. He had been fed barely an hour ago, but the little guy had a voracious appetite.

With a newly full stomach, you hoped that the little womp rat would finally get some sleep when you returned him to his hammock. Yet, as you lay back on your own bunk, you found that you could not settle.

Time became an illusion after so many days cooped up in the Razor Crest and despite the late hour, according to your chrono, you found that you were wide awake. There was nothing to do except pace around the Crest.

You must have paced around the Crest enough times to cover the circumference of the planet when you were finally on when a sound caused you to stop in your tracks. It sounded like a faint crackle from where your comlink rested on some crates, forgotten and discarded. Until now. You barely had time to react before it chirped into life, with the sound of a familiar deep voice crackling slightly suddenly blaring from it.

Mando was calling your name.

You darted across the hull and scooped up the comlink from its position on top of the very crate from which you had fished out cleaning supplies. You were startled by the fact that Mando was actually using it.

“It’s Mando,” he panted, tone desperate. “Listen, things aren’t looking good. If I’m not back by sunrise, take The Child and run. Promise me, you’ll get out of there. Promise m–”

Before Mando could finish and much less, could you even respond, the line went dead.

You stood there, startled by the turn of events. Your mind racing with thoughts. Where would you go? Which supplies should you pack? How far away was sunrise from now? Could you even use a blaster to shoot an enemy down, if needed? What were you going to do without Mando? How would you take care of The Child alone?

You wanted to sink to your knees, shout and scream. That was not an option. You knew that you had to keep going. Mando had wanted you to vow to him, which you would have done in a heartbeat had the line not first been cruelly cut. Even if he could not hear you, you still wanted to pledge your word to him.

“I promise I’ll protect The Child, Mando,” you whispered, clutching the comlink to your chest as tears streamed down your cheeks silently and the realisation that you could find yourself alone in the galaxy once more dawned upon you.

You spent the next couple of hours packing and then repacking as many bags as you could manage to carry and pathetically practising gripping a blaster. Mando had demonstrated once or twice, in case you ever found yourself in a bind. You were certainly in one now, but the adrenaline coursing through your body made it near impossible to remember such careful, deliberate instructions. You contemplated the fact that he had chosen you for a reason, to care for The Child. Whatever such a reason was, it seemed futile now. You were in no fit state to care for anyone.

The guilt threatened to overwhelm you as you spent a few precious minutes watching The Child sleep, blissfully unaware of the anguished state his caregiver was currently in. Your heart ached for him. The bond he shared with Mando was something beyond words and you knew he would be devastated. How could you manage to take care of a distraught child and keep him safe from the same evil forces that had taken his father?

You checked your chrono, heart sinking as you realised how close sunrise now was. Your heart thundered in your ears as you ascended the ladder for what was almost certainly the last time, your head peeking over the floor of the cockpit as you saw the pitch blackness of night gradually giving way to the lighter shade of blue that indicated that sunrise was imminent. As soon as the sky was flecked with oranges and pinks, you knew you had to obey Mando’s command and leave.

You imagined him, frightened and injured, stumbling his way through the thick trees you could just about see from the cockpit, desperately fighting to return to you. You willed him on, hoping against all odds that he would make it back to you, safe and sound. You would berate him for putting himself into such a dangerous position. Then, you would piece him back together and prepare him to do it all over again. You were hopelessly devoted to him. Now, such devotion had placed you in this position. Alone, once again.

Alas, despite a valiant effort, Mando's return was not to be. He had tried his best, but it was not good enough. When the sky blazed brilliant bronze, you knew it was time to go.

You descended the rungs for the last time, bidding a silent farewell to the ship where you had found so much happiness with such an unlikely companion and his even unlikelier son. You felt a lump in your throat, your eyes filling with tears as the finality of the moment dawned on you. Then, you exhaled and pushed your shoulders back, imagining yourself wearing armour like Mando. You had to do it, for him. You had to grant his dying wish. You had to be brave for The Child.

You were only two paces from the bunk when you heard it. The unmistakable whirring of the Razor Crest’s door opening. It was a sound that usually signified Mando's return. This time, though, it signified your imminent demise.

You were frozen to the spot, then. You were certain that the forces that had gotten to Mando were now here to finish you and The Child off, too. You contemplated reaching for the blaster that was in the bags just a few steps away, but you knew it was futile, given your inexperience. The forces that had murdered your Mandalorian would make short work of someone as inept as you. The best you could do was give yourself up, so that The Child may live. Hopefully, he would be undetected in his bunk, sleeping soundly despite the bloodshed just a few paces away.

You shut your eyes and thought of Mando, wondering if you were about to join him. You braced yourself for a blaster shot that never came. For it was not the alien sounds of a mysterious, threatening entity that your ears detected emanating approaching your position. No, it was not that at all.

Instead, you stood there, aghast as the familiar heavy, even thuds and slight clinking of armour echoed with every step up the ramp of the Razor Crest. The reassuring sound finally reached through your frayed nerves and your eyes flew open as you spun around in disbelief. This was not the end. There was no threat. Instead, there was an instantly familiar sound, one that you had feared you would never hear again. The noise signalled to you that somehow, against all odds, he had returned to you.

“Mando?” You questioned, momentarily terrified that an enemy holding a blaster would appear into view behind him.

“Sorry about that,” Mando huffed and you realised that particular fear was unfounded. “Job got a bit messier than I anticipated.”

The only indication of the gravity of his situation that had necessitated his desperate message was the evidence of numerous blaster shots that his armour had clearly taken, given the black marks on its otherwise pristine surface. The corners of your lips curled up in a knowing smirk. You knew he would spend most of your journey to the next planet cleaning every single plate with painstaking attention to detail.

“But th-the you used the comlink?” You stuttered, aghast at his sudden appearance in the Razor Crest.

“I did,” he confirmed. “And were you about to leave?” Mando asked as he entered the ship and approached you. You were unable to reply with words, suddenly feeling incredibly choked up. You nodded and gestured towards the bags you had hurriedly packed.

“Good,” Mando nodded approvingly.

“I thought you were…” you shook your head, unable to finish that sentence and vocalise the dark places your mind had travelled.

“Dead.” Mando finished for you.

You nodded again. You would almost be amused by his familiar bluntness were you not still so shocked by his presence.

“I had sharper reflexes,” he shrugged cockily, a simple explanation for events that you were sure were far more complex than he was letting on.

“I thought I was alone. I thought I… I thought I’d have to leave here and never see you again,” you stammered, voice cracking at the thought. “Did you at least complete the job?”

“Yes,” Mando nodded. “Proof of termination was sufficient and I acquired it,” he explained, deep voice slightly hoarse thanks to the force that he had undoubtedly exerted in completing such a perilous job.

“I don’t know if I want to kill you, or kiss you right now,” you sighed, shaking your head in disbelief at his accomplishment. Then, the realisation that you had finally given voice to your most intimate thoughts dawned on you. You clapped your hand over your mouth, eyes widening in horror. You were utterly mortified.

Mando was unmoving, which only added to your panic. You noticed the way his hands clenched into fists briefly and he sighed deeply. Then he tilted his head slightly and unclenched his fists.

“Close your eyes,” Mando commanded.

Although his voice was quiet, something about the way he said it struck fear into your heart. There was a darkness to his voice, to his tone that terrified you. You were certain that he was going to punish you for such a remark. You had always been slightly afraid of him despite the gentleness he had shown you. Now, it appeared that those lingering fears were well-founded. He was probably disgusted by you. He had taken you in when you were at your lowest, given you a job, a bunk and a purpose.

Yet, he had unknowingly given you so much more than that. It didn’t matter anymore, though. Especially not now that you had let your feelings get the better of you. You were convinced that he was going to kick you out, convinced that there was absolutely no possibility that he reciprocated your feelings for him. Mando hated you. You were certain of that.

“Mando, I’m sorry. I didn’t mea–” you stammered, eyes still widened in horror.

The presence of soft leather against your skin abruptly cut your frantic apologies off, mid-utterance. His glove was warm across your forehead, nose and cheeks as his hand dwarfed your features. The loss of vision that came with his gloved hand covering your eyes stopped all coherent thoughts in your brain. The hiss of his helmet depressurising, a sound you had previously heard only through the door of the ‘fresher, made your heart quicken until it was beating with alarming speed. Then, the feeling of his soft lips moving gently against yours caused it to stop completely.

You were struck by two things. Firstly, the fact that the man you had been certain was dead, was not only very much alive but was presently moving his lips against yours. Secondly, underneath his helmet, Mando apparently kept a moustache. You could feel the bristles of his facial hair tickling slightly as his lips claimed yours in a tender kiss.

You were certain that your heart was going to give out if your knees did not first, momentarily fearful that you would send the pair of you crashing in a tangle of limbs to the hard, metallic surface of the Razor Crest’s floor with a thud. Fortunately, you happened to be kissing the most formidable bounty hunter in the parsec, who soon wrapped his spare arm around your waist and demonstrated, in the way that he held you, all the strength and certainty that had gained him such a reputation. You smirked against his lips as the hand that was not currently covering your eyes trailed up your back, travelling across your body over the coat that you had pulled on in preparation for your imminent departure from the Razor Crest.

The movement of your lips together was electrifying. It confirmed that the connection you were certain had been building between the two of you was real. It felt so natural, as though you had always been destined to be pulled into each other’s orbits in this way. You felt chills traverse your skin as your brain perceived the scent of his glove, given its proximity to your nose. At once, you could smell the story of his perilous brush with death. There was the distinctive smoky scent of explosions, the sharp metallic smell from his ever-steady grip on his blaster, the earthy undertones – no doubt thanks to days of traipsing through undergrowth, – the musky smell that was unmistakably masculine, unmistakably him and finally, the faint hints of leather. As you registered each scent, you were reminded, once again, of the lethality this man was capable of. A man who was currently kissing you with such fondness and affection.

When your lungs started to burn – from the exhilaration or oxygen deprivation, you weren’t sure – Mando finally pulled away, leaving you breathless and dizzy from the events which had just transpired between the two of you. You smiled and bit your lip in glee, as the realisation of the monumental shift in your relationship that had just occurred hit you. You hoped it had not been a one-off, a fleeting moment of carelessness on his part that he would come to regret.

“You couldn’t kill me anyway,” Mando whispered, his breath hot against the shell of your ear. You were stunned. Clearly, that was not the case. This had been a deliberate, measured action on his part.

Then, the tell-tale hissing sound indicated that Mando had replaced his helmet. You couldn’t help the fact that your heart dropped a little at the sound. After all, despite how much you respected his devotion to The Way, there was always a simmering curiosity about his appearance. Especially having just kissed him. You could still feel the slight scratchiness that lingered on your skin from the bristles of his facial hair, a ghost of the kiss you had just shared; a reminder that it had happened.

Mando removed his hand from your eyes and you mourned the loss of contact, having relished the way that his hand had engulfed your face with its enormous size as it drowned your features. He always seemed to be everywhere, a looming presence over you.

“Mando, I –” you began, but he raised the same gloved hand that had just rested against your forehead, cutting you off once again.

“My name is Din,” he said quietly before he lowered his hand again.

“Oh,” you breathed, stunned that he had entrusted you with such a precious piece of information.

Although, given the fact that he had just kissed you, perhaps it was a logical step. Nevertheless, you appreciated the fact that you finally had a name to put to the deep voice you adored. Din, not Mando, was the man who had just stolen all rational thought from your mind with the gentle touch of his lips.

You smiled then, the first genuine smile that had graced your features since Din had left the Razor Crest ten days previously. Only a few minutes ago, you had feared that he would never return. Now, just when you had been certain your life with him was over, it appeared that it was just beginning.

As the sun rose over the Razor Crest, still surrounded by the trees of the forest planet you had been certain would be the location of an ending, it was clear that a new dawn was here for you and Din. A beginning was upon you, the start of something beautiful.

It was the first kiss you had shared with Din. But you were certain that it would not be your last.

#din djarin fic #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x reader #mando x reader #mando x you #pedro pascal characters #my fics #inbox #request #suresnips

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honeyedmiller · 7 months

Text

Close | Din Djarin

pairing: din djarin x f!reader

warnings: so much fluff, like literally this whole thing is just pure tooth rotting fluff and din and so soft in this, helmet comes off, reader and din are in LOVE

word count: 5.1k

synopsis: the man in shining beskar armor is one of mystery, and you were determined to get close to him.

based off of the song “close” by nick jonas

not revised (go figure) so sorry if there’s mistakes.

divider by @saradika

“‘Cus space is just a word made up by someone who’s afraid to get too… close.”

He intrigued you from the moment you set your eyes on him. Tall, broad, glinting in beskar, and a complete mystery underneath the helmet.

You often passed him and his little green apprentice in the marketplace. It started off with you glancing at him. It then turned into small smiles on your end, and a curt nod on his.

The spring air was fresh the first time he spoke to you. You were picking out some fruits for your home, when you turned around and saw him standing behind you. You gasped softly, beaming up at him.

“Those are Grogu’s favorite,” The masked man said, tilting his visor down at the fruit you had in your hand. “I was going to get him some, too.” His modulated voice was deeper than you expected, but had a warm tone to it nonetheless.

“They’re my favorite, too.” You respond with a smile, splitting the fruit in half after quickly peeling it and handing it to the small creature.

“Oh, no, you don’t have to—” He starts, but you shake your head.

“I insist.” You grin as Grogu coos up at you, his ears perking up.

“He likes you.” The Mandalorian says, and you give him a small smile.

“Well it’s nice to officially meet you to, uh,” You pause, not knowing what to call the man.

“Mando.” He says, and you nod.

“Mando.” You repeat, holding out your hand. He looks down at it for a second, like he’s contemplating on shaking it or not. After a couple of beats, he extends his hand to shake yours.

“What’s your name?” He asks you, and you just grin up at him before slowly backing away from him.

You knew Mando obviously wasn’t his real name, so you decided to be a mystery to him all the same. You didn’t know much about Mandalorians, but you did know they had a creed they followed. It was strict and hid their identities, and you respected that. You just thought it’d be a bit fun to mess with the man in glinting beskar for awhile.

He knew it, too. He knew you were playing a little game, and honestly, he thought he’d hate it. He was a straight-to-the-point kind of man.

But he didn’t.

He saw it as a challenge. He asked people around to see if anyone knew your name, and no one did. Maybe you were just a private person. Which, in all honesty, you kind of were. You minded your own business on Nevarro. You were friendly, just not very talkative.

You on the other hand had went to the local library to find any books you could on Mandalorians. There weren’t many, but you did find one that explained some of their history and their language. Next time you saw Mando, you’d surprise him with your newfound learnings of his culture.

That wasn’t going to be for a few months, though. He ended up getting a job that sent him to the near other side of the galaxy.

He thought about you every single day. He didn’t know what it was about you that had you in his mind stuck like glue. Maybe it was the way you smiled up at him, how you were so friendly to his son, how you remained a mystery to him. Maker, it was just you in general. Your sweet voice, your kind eyes, your beautiful smile.

Mando felt strange about the way he perceived you. He barely even knew you and he was already thinking about you nearly every waking second of the day. He’d never felt this way with anyone, except for one other person.

Omera.

When he was on Sorgan, he almost thought about risking revealing his identity for her. He’d started to feel strongly about her, but he whisked those feelings away quickly.

He never knew how to connect with someone. His lifestyle always prevented him from settling down and allowing himself to actually get close to someone for once. He had a hard time expressing his feelings, and when they overcame him, he just shut down. He’d go into panic mode and close himself off completely so nobody would be able to experience the softer side of the man underneath all of the armor.

He couldn’t help but wonder from time-to-time what life would be like if he’d just settle down. Sure, he had a house to come back to now, but he had no home. Someone he could come back to after a long journey to ask him how it went, assure him everything will be okay, be there for him when he needed someone.

He craved that so badly, but he knew he just couldn’t get it.

The next time he saw you, it was the peak of summertime. He spotted you first. He was in the marketplace trying to restock on food for him and Grogu, when he saw you talking to the spice vendor. You had that same pretty, kind smile on your lips as you shook the vendor’s hand, putting your purchase in a bag you had slung over your shoulder.

You wore a black sleeveless shirt with a floor length green skirt. You looked even more beautiful than when he left.

You turned your body in his direction, saying your goodbye’s to the vendor as your eyes snapped to the familiar shine of beskar in front of you. You halted for a split second before approaching him slowly.

“Mando.” You greet, smiling up at him.

“Cyar’ika,” He nodded down at you, and your heart skipped a beat. Sweetheart. He’d called you sweetheart.

“It’s been awhile.”

He nodded.

“It’s nice to see you again, Mando.” You softly grabbed his bicep for a second, not wanting to overstep your boundaries. You let go of it quickly before walking off into the opposite direction, leaving each other to wonder about the other for the rest of the day.

That day, Din made it a point to stop by Greef Karga’s office.

“What can I do for you, Mando?”

“What can you tell me about this woman?” He pulls up a hologram photo of you from his glove, feeling nearly guilty about what he’s about to ask his old friend.

Karga quirks his brow at Din. “She’s not a bounty, is she?” He strokes his chin as his stance goes wide, gaze flickering between the hologram and Din’s visor.

“No, I just–” Din pauses, not even knowing what to say. “It’s to babysit Grogu. Need a sitter next time I go out to hunt a bounty.” Din lied, and Karga laughed knowing he was.

“Sure, Mando.” He chuckled, and Din’s face was hot under his helmet. Luckily, Karga didn’t press any further and gave him your name and where you lived. Din thanked the man and headed out for your house later on that evening.

You were hanging your freshly washed clothes up with clothespins, humming an unfamiliar tune. Din approached you carefully not wanting to startle you, but he did anyhow.

You jumped as you turned and saw him, putting a hand over your heart.

“Stars, Mando. You scared me.” You huffed, clutching your tunic against your chest.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s alright. What brings you on this side of town?” You hang up the tunic in your hand, turning to face him.

“Just… strolling through.” He shrugs, but he knew he couldn’t lie to you.

“Uh huh.” You grin, crossing your arms over your chest.

“I actually, uh, asked Greef where you lived.” He admitted, visor tilted down toward the dirt crunching underneath his boot as he scuffed his foot.

“Do I have an unknown bounty on my head?” You half joke, and Mando tilts his helmet.

“You do anything that could make you a bounty?” He retorts, and you laugh. Oh, how he liked that sound.

“I may be wanted for making the best pog soup in town,” You joke. “Wanna join me for some? It’s almost finished.”

“I can’t.” He shakes his head, and you give him a small, sad smile. You wish he would, but you respect him and his wishes.

“Sure. Would you like some to-go?” You ask, picking up the woven basket that previously contained your freshly washed clothes. You popped your hip out and held the basket to it, tilting your head at him questioningly.

“I don’t want to impose.”

“You’re not, Mando, I’m offering.” You softly chuckle in disbelief.

He wondered, for a second, how his real name would sound rolling off of your tongue. He bet it would sound like honey. Something sweet, something pure.

“Sure.” Was all he said, and you coaxed him to follow you into your home.

It was cozy and comfortable, walls decorated with artwork made my locals that they sold at the marketplace. The place was perfect for a small family, but since it was just you, you had more room than you knew what to do with.

You pulled out a container and ladled the soup into it, cautious not to burn the pads of your fingers. You packed the container nicely in a bag, handing it to Mando.

“Here you are.” You push the bag into his hands, and he looks down at it before presumably looking at you.

“Thank you, cyar’ika.” His voice is soft behind the modulator, his heart filling with that unfamiliar warmth once more.

“You have to let me know how it tastes. You know, once you try it.”

A small laugh is heard behind the modulator, and your heart swells at the sound.

“I will. I promise.”

Din went home that night, warming up the soup again after he put Grogu down for bed so he could eat in silence. He was used to it; it was comforting. But it also made his heart strings tug with the wish that he’d have someone to share a meal with. He was scared to join you for dinner, so he quickly said no. He was scared you’d turn around to try and look at his face; he was scared of you not liking what he had to say; he was scared you were going to find him mundane.

Even with all of the stories he had, he was afraid you wouldn’t find any of them interesting. He was terrified you wouldn’t be into him. So, he pushed and pushed and pushed himself away until he was so certain all of his feelings were detached from you.

But, when he took his first sip of your pog soup, he knew he was doomed. Maker, that was the best soup he’s ever had in his life. Usually, he’d scarf down his meals. It was a habit he was trying to unlearn. But with your soup, he savored the taste on his tongue and enjoyed each and every flavor it had to offer.

It easily became his favorite meal in the whole universe.

Weeks went by and you’d make him the soup, even when it was the peak of summer and sweat would glisten on your forehead. You did it for him, because he intrigued you, and you wanted to get to know him.

That opportunity finally came one night when he knocked on your door in the late hour. You were surprised to see him standing at your door with his son fast asleep in his arms.

“Hi.” You said softly, motioning for him to come in. He stepped inside, only allowing himself a few inches into your home.

“Sorry to come by so late,” He starts, “The water went out at my house, and, uh, I was wondering if I could borrow your shower.” He explained.

This was the first time you heard a more shy tone behind the modulator. It was sweet, and you could tell it must’ve taken him a lot of courage to even come here and ask you such a favor.

“Of course. Let me, um, get you a towel.” You walk over to the hall cabinet and take out a towel for him, going into the bathroom and hanging it neatly on the towel rack.

“Thank you.” You felt his visor linger on you for a little longer than you were used to. You looked down at your attire and finally noticed that you were wearing a sleep tunic that barely covered the top of your thighs. Your cheeks heated in embarrassment, and to shift the awkward ambience, you held out your hands.

“I can watch him while you shower.” You gesture to Grogu, and Din hands him to you carefully. The little creature coos, nuzzling into you as a tiny hand clings onto your tunic. You smile down at him as you settle down on the couch in your living room, rocking him softly.

“Thank you.” The Mandalorian says, turning swiftly to the bathroom.

He didn’t take long, and you tried to not let your mind wander to what he looked like underneath his helmet. You tried to guess his features deliberately, weighing the options of dark or light eyes, hair, skin, everything. You bet he was gorgeous underneath the beskar. It was a shame no one got to see him, but you respected him and his privacy.

You wonder how many people have seen him with his helmet off. If anyone’s ever gotten to touch his face. Oh, that man was probably so touch deprived. The thought made your heart sink a bit.

Your thoughts dissipated into thin air when the bathroom door opened, steam coming out of the room as he stepped out in his flight suit. The only piece of armor he had on was his helmet. You frowned softly in the darkness, thinking that must be insanely uncomfortable for his wet hair to be sticking to his helmet like that.

“Here,” You stood up, careful not to wake the baby. You gestured down to a basket that was empty, and motioned the Mandalorian to put his armor in there. You took a piece of armor for him and gently set it in the basket, and he followed suit with the rest of it. “I can wear a blindfold, Mando.” You told him. He looks at you, tilting his visor.

“I know other people can’t see you. I presume Grogu here already has, but, I can wear a blindfold so your hair can dry properly. That helmet must be awfully heavy.” You explain, and he thinks about it for a moment.

“Okay.” Was all he said, and you smile as you head into your bedroom and set Grogu down on your bed before rummaging through your clothes for a blindfold. You found one tucked away in a corner of a drawer, and you held it out to him.

“I’d feel more comfortable if you put it on. You know, so you don’t think I’m trying to get a peak at you or anything.” You smile softly at him, and Din’s heart clenches. You respected him and his creed, and he was so thankful of that. You drop the satin material in his bare hands, which you noticed were tan. That was just one piece of the puzzle that is this man before you.

You turn on your heel so you’re facing away from him, and he takes the material and wraps it gently around your head to cover your eyes. His fingers accidentally brushed your neck as he pulled back after tying the blindfold onto you.

Goosebumps raised onto your skin, and he noticed. Even in the dark and with the tint of his visor, he noticed. He felt it, too.

He wasn’t a man of many words. That was something you both knew. But in that moment, he wanted to tell you you were the most beautiful person he’d ever seen in the galaxy. He wanted to tell you everything there was to know and take you to every single planet that he think you’d like.

But, as always, he was at a loss for words. Too many thoughts and emotions trying to claw their way out of him, and he wouldn’t let it surface. He wouldn’t let himself fall for someone as beautiful and smart and kind as you. He just couldn’t.

You felt yourself being spun around as Din waved his hand over your face. “Can you see how many fingers I’m holding up?” He held up four, right in front of your face.

You shook your head. Everything was pitch black.

“Good.” Was all he said, before you heard a hissing sound of pressure being released.

“You can stay in here awhile and, I don’t know, talk if you’d like. If not I set out a blanket and pillow for you on the couch out there.” You pointed in the wrong direction of the living room, and Din’s lips curled up in the slightest.

“What would we talk about?” Din’s unmodulated voice rang through your ears, and you gasped. His voice was beautiful. Almost shy sounding, but deep and smooth.

You shrug your shoulders. “Whatever you want to talk about. I don’t get company, ever, so… it’s up to you. Or we can just go to bed and we don’t have to talk at all.”

“I can… tell you about some stories of my adventures across the galaxy.” He offers, and you grin toward the sound of his voice.

“I’d love that.”

And so he does. For the next couple of hours, you sit on your bed with your arms enveloping your knees to your chest as you listen to him talk about these intense days hunting a bounty, battling Moff Gideon, running into Jedi, the fact that he gave Grogu to Luke Skywalker, how he won the darksaber and gave it rightfully and respectfully to Lady Kryze, and how the Mandalorians retook their home planet.

He even went as far as telling you that he wasn’t originally born a Mandalorian, that they saved him after a droid killed his biological parents, which is why he absolutely despises the bots. Well, besides IG-11 and R5-D4.

You soaked in every single detail he chose to give you, finding himself loosening up over time while he talked to you. He found you very easy to talk to, and he could tell you were attentive as you followed along with his stories.

“I’ve never talked this much to anyone, ever.” Din chuckles, sighing softly.

“Really? I could listen to you go on for days. You’re an amazing story teller, Mando.” You smile softly, and his heart skips a beat.

He contemplated on telling you his real name, too. After all, you two’ve been acquainted long enough. He knew your first name so it was only fair that he told you his.

“It’s Din.” He says in a near whisper. He saw your brows thread together in confusion, so he elaborated.

“My name is Din.” He says, and he saw your body go rigid.

Your heart melted at the fact that he was willing to give up a part of his identity to you. That he trusted you enough to even tell you everything he’s said thus far, including his actual name.

“Din.” You repeat, and him hearing you say his name felt so right. Like it was a secret of yours to keep.

“Just… do me a favor, please. Don’t repeat my name to anybody, and only use it when it’s just us two together.” He gnawed on his bottom lip as anxiousness overtook his body. He was never vulnerable with people like this, and not having any of his armor on in a place that wasn’t his home furthered his anxiety.

You reached out in front of you, successfully finding his warm hand as you gave it a soft squeeze before pulling away. “Of course, Din. You have my word.”

After that night, you two seemed to get closer. People noticed and talked, but you didn’t really pay any mind. Neither did Din. There were many more nights of him coming over to your place to talk and eat delicious meals with you, which he finally allowed himself to do. You ate with your backs to each other as you talked about your days, another brief mission Din went on, and how Grogu is finally getting along with the kids of Nevarro City.

It wasn’t until the fall time that you realized you were starting to fall for the man in shining armor. It’s ironic, really. The one person you’d told yourself was off limits, you found thinking of nearly every minute of the day. The one that you were sure of just being strictly friends with.

You were falling in love, and you were falling hard.

There were some days you felt you couldn’t even face Din, because you genuinely feared total and complete rejection. It wasn’t fair. You didn’t have something to cover your face to hide your feelings or the soft sparkle in your eye every time you looked at him.

Whatever affections or strange feelings Din had for Omera a few years ago, he had for you much stronger. He found himself wanting to be the source of your beautiful smile and laugh. He wanted to be near you as much as he could, and the times that he couldn’t, he found himself spending every second thinking of you.

Some might say it was an unhealthy obsession at that point, but truthfully, you both were just lovestruck fools. You didn’t need to see Din’s face to know that he was a loyal, trustworthy, honorable man. He had a heart of gold that he only reserved for you and his son.

He never thought that with his old lifestyle he’d be able to settle down somewhere. Now that he’s here in Nevarro with his son, he wanted a family. Not that Grogu wasn’t his family, of course, but he wanted to settle down. Start some family roots here. Find a wife, have a (human) child, grow old with his family here.

He saw that life with you.

The times he thought about it in depth, he truly thought he might’ve actually been going crazy, but he didn’t care. He was so content with just him and Grogu in his cozy little home, but ever since he finally allowed himself to grow close to you, he feels as if the house isn’t a home without you in it.

Come winter time, those feelings from you both never dissipated. If anything, they grew stronger.

It was a busy day at the market one particular chilly day. Vendors were selling caf and pastries, which you gladly indulged in. You were looking at a new painting to buy for your house when you heard your name being called. You whirled around to come face-to- well, helmet, with Din.

You smiled up at him.

“Mando, you’re back!” You cheer, going to give him a hug, but you stopped short. You suddenly remembered you were in a very public place, where wandering eyes could clearly see you both.

Din felt your hesitation and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his chest plate. The metal was cold, sending a shiver down your spine. You relaxed in the familiar embrace (you two may’ve cuddled from time-to-time when he came over to talk with you), looking up at his visor.

“Wanted to surprise you at your house, but you weren’t there. Figured you’d be here instead.” He explained, and you grinned up at him.

“Was a short trip, hm?” You asked, walking with him through the market. He kept his hand loosely wrapped around your hip as you walked.

“I needed to go back to Mandalore for something.”

“What was it?” Curiosity overtook you, and he looked down at you.

“Not here, cyar’ika. Let’s go back to your house.”

You both made your way back to the warmth of your home, shucking off your three top layers so you were left in just a long sleeve and pants. You kicked off your boots before you made your way to the couch, sitting down as you waited for Din. He sat down next to you after checking to see Grogu was fast asleep in his pod.

“I went to Mandalore to ask the Armorer for something. Something I want you to have, something very significant and dear to me. But I want you to know this first,” He begins, leather-bound hands grabbing your own. “Cyar’ika, you’ve been nothing but a light in my life. I spend every day thinking of you and how much you mean to me and Grogu. You’re brilliant, kind, brave, beautiful, and so many more things that I couldn’t even begin to cover. You’ve made me fall in love with you the past near year that I’ve gotten the privilege to know you. You’ve got me, cyar’ika, and nothing would make me happier if you’d become my riduur, my wife, my partner for life.”

Tears are flowing out of your eyes now, and a happy sob escapes your throat. He untangles one of his hands from yours to take something out of a pocket he has, and he presents you a shiny necklace with Din and Grogu’s signet as the pendant. A Mudhorn.

Your free hand flies over your mouth as you cry, looking down at the beautiful necklace and back up to Din’s visor.

“Din.” You choke out a whisper, moving toward him to embrace him in a hug. He hugs you back tightly, resting his helmet against your forehead. You take both sides of his helmet and lean back, sniffling as you smile in pure adoration.

“I would love to join your clan, Din. Become your riduur. Be your wife. Partner for eternity. I love you.”

“Cyar’ika.” Din’s modulator barely caught onto his whisper. You two held each other like that for awhile, your sniffles finally dying down.

“You know, Mandalorians have an oath we follow our whole lives after we’ve been sworn into the creed,” Din starts, breaking the comfortable silence. He pulls back from you and brushes your hair out of your face. “Honor is life, for with no honor one may as well be dead. Loyalty is life, for without one's clan one has no purpose. Death is life, one should die as they have lived.”

“That’s beautiful, Din.” You whisper, hands moving back down to your lap. He takes off his gloves and grabs your hands into his once more.

“Mandalorians also don’t do wedding ceremonies. We just say a short vow together, and that’s it. Once we’re married, you get to see my face.” Your breath hitches in your throat, and your heart pounds rapidly.

You completely forgot about ever wanting to see him, let alone being allowed to see him. The thought of him showing his face to you made you both nervous. He was worried what you’d think, and you were happy you could finally put a face to the man you’re deeply in love with.

“So, we can just say the vows right now, and that’s it? We’re married?” He gives you a short nod, and you mirror his actions. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay. Let’s get married.” You smile at him, giving his hands a squeeze. He chuckles softly, wanting nothing more than to kiss you right in this very moment.

“Okay. We need to say them at the same time, so I’ll say them to you and then we’ll say them together,” He instructs, and you nod to signal you were ready.

“Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde. Got it?” He asks gently, rubbing his thumbs over the top of your hands.

You nod with glossy eyes and a drumming heart.

“Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde.” You both say synchronously, and a tear falls from your cheek once more.

“We are one when together, we are one when parted, we will share all, we will raise warriors,” Din says, unclasping the necklace so he can put it around your neck. “My riduur. I’ll love you forever.”

“I love you, Din.”

“Are you ready to see me now?” His voice wavers a bit, and you can tell he’s nervous.

You’re his wife and you’re part of his clan now and he wants to spend the rest of his life loving you so tenderly and sweetly as you deserve, and yet, the nerves coursing through his body at the thought of revealing himself to you are in full force.

“Whenever you’re ready, riduur.” Your voice is sweet and patient. Even if he wasn’t ready to show his face to you now, you’d be completely okay with it. You fell in love with him for his loyalty, honesty, kind heart, and protective nature.

Even so, he removed both of his hands from yours before moving them up to his helmet, taking a deep breath before slowly lifting the heap of beskar up and over his head. He set his helmet down on the ground, eyes moving back to your face.

You were in complete awe with what you saw before you. He was simply the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen in your life. Tan skin, brown eyes you could easily get lost in, strong nose, pink lips, and some scruffy facial hair along his jaw with a mustache to match. His brown curls sat messily atop his head, and you just couldn’t stop staring.

Before he could speak out of nervousness, you moved both of your hands and held the sides of his face gently. He closed his eyes in pure bliss, never being touched by another like that in his life. His eyes slowly blinked back open to look at you, brow creasing as he waited for you to say something.

“Meshla,” You whispered, and he inhaled sharply. He had no idea where or how you learned a word of Mando’a, but hearing you speak the language of his people made his heart swell with absolute pride. “You’re so beautiful, Din.” You lightly trace the tips of your index finger over the curves of his face, resting your hand on his cheek once more.

You swept your thumb over his cheekbone, moving closer to him to press a kiss onto his forehead and his nose. You leaned your forehead against his and closed your eyes, rubbing your nose against his gently.

“I love you, my riduur.” He whispered, and you smiled as you leaned in a little more.

“I love you too, Din.” And finally, your lips connected. The kiss was soft and sweet, but passionate and full of promise and want and need.

Falling for and marrying the beautiful woman from the market in less than a year was not on Din’s agenda, for his fear of getting too intimate to someone overtook his whole being. But, stars, he was so glad he took that leap of faith.

And, maker above, was he ever so eternally grateful that the person he chose was you.

Someone who made him unafraid.

Someone who allowed him to get close.

tag list: @cool-iguana ; @party-hearses ; @amanitacowboy ; @angel-in-beskar ; @pamasaur

#din djarin x f!reader #din djarin imagines #din djarin imagine #din djarin fluff #din djarin one shot #din djarin #din djarin x female reader #the mandalorian one shot #the mandalorian imagine #pedro pascal imagines #pedro pascal imagine #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian x female reader

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starstruckunknown-princess · 13 days

Text

Magnolia - Din Djarin x Reader

Magnolia (Magnolia) - Meaning: Dignity, perseverance

Summary: Din is blackmailed by Peli into going to the doctor for the first time since he took his Creed. The doctor is not what he expected.

Pairing: Din x Reader (3rd person POV)

Word Count: 2386

Warnings: 3rd person POV, Peli being a bit of a bully, no Grogu, probably inaccurate Star Wars medical practices, Din being mysterious, tattooed!Din, needles/hyposprays, brief helmetless!Din but not in front of reader, awkward!Din warming up to someone, slight touch-starved!Din if you squint

Day 16 is the longest so far! This was supposed to be the first chapter of a series featuring Din and a doctor love interest, but I think it works here too. Also, today is my anniversary with my partner, so I'm dedicating this to him! 13 years together, 9 married. Holy shit, where does time go?

In Bloom Masterlist

Likes, Comments, Reblogs are ALWAYS appreciated! ❤️

“I don’t wanna hear it, Mando!” the older woman exclaimed, “Doc, you here? Sit down, would ya? You’re makin’ me nervous. Doc?”

A modulated voice said something she couldn’t make out as she made her way out of the exam room to the waiting area. Peli was facing her, hands of her hips, but her attention immediately went to she silver-clad form of a man sitting on a chair in her waiting room. His head was covered with a shiny helmet, his gloved hands resting on his thighs, and even though she couldn’t read his expression on his face she could see the tension in his form.

“Good, you’re here,” Peli said to her, “My friend Mando here,” she jerked her thumb over her shoulder to the man, “has just informed me that he hasn’t been to a doctor since he was a child, and in his line of work that seems really stupid so I dragged him here, you got time for an exam?”

“Of course,” she said, “but I feel it needs to be said that I don’t usually perform exams on unwilling patients…over the age of 8, that is.” She smirked. And the Mandalorian’s helmet tilted as if in disbelief. He rose to his feet, his full height and breadth unfolding to take up much more space than she’d initially thought.

“Fine,” the modulated voice said, ”Let’s get this over with.”

Peli’s smirk read of something deeper than concern for her beskar-clad friend, but she didn’t have time to parse it for meaning as the Mandalorian made his way toward where she stood in the doorway between the exam room and the waiting room. She stepped aside and held out an arm to usher him into the small room.

“Thanks, Doc,” Peli said, “Send him back my way when you’re done, I’ve got his ship.”

“Will do,” she replied, now understanding more about how Peli was able to manhandle such a large, broad person into her clinic.

The bell above the front door jingled as Peli left, leaving her alone with the Mandalorian. She would’ve been more uncomfortable if it weren’t for the numerous sharp instruments within her reach, as well as the hidden blaster strapped under the exam table.

One couldn’t be too careful on Tatooine.

The Mandalorian was looking around the small room, possibly assessing for threats until she cleared her throat, getting to work mode.

“So I think we can just run a few tests and do a quick workup, nothing invasive. That should placate Peli, at least.”

“Okay,” he said through the modulator, standing stiffly in the middle of the room as she busied herself with grabbing a holopad and passing it over to him.

“Fill this out,” she said quickly, busying herself with grabbing supplies for a blood draw and a retinal scan.

“Um,” the voice said from behind her and she paused, turning toward her patient, “I, uh, I don’t know my birth date.”

“That’s okay, just an approximate age is fine.” She went about her business, prepping a few vaccines and a bacta hypospray just in case while his gloved fingers tap-tapped on the holopad. When she was finished, she turned and leaned back against the counter and watched him as he finished.

It didn’t take a doctor to note the obvious power of the Mandalorian’s body, half-bent over the holopad on the exam table. She scanned his posture, the way he held himself as he tapped with his right hand and noted a few things she wanted to mention. With how well-muscled he had to be under the heavy beskar, she figured he had a physically demanding job, and it was then she remembered Peli mentioning a bounty hunter friend of hers.

He was silent as he finished and passed her the holopad. Under the ‘Name’ field he’d put simply, ‘Mando’ and she couldn’t help the smile that rose on her face. As a race, Mandalorians were notoriously secretive.

Scanning the rest of the info sheet, she saw he mentioned back pain and bad knees as places of concern. Other than that, she didn’t see anything glaringly off.

“Okay, this all looks about right for your estimated age, but I still want to take some blood and update your vaccinations,” she glanced at him from under her lashes and he grunted in what she assumed was assent. “Can you take your, um,” she gestured to the armor adorning his thick arms, not knowing what they were called, “arm pieces off? I’ll need to get in your veins there.”

The Mandalorian hesitated, going eerily still. If she wasn’t mistaken, she thought she heard a sharp intake of breath through the modulator. Tension rose within the room, but she was well-trained so she turned her back to him to offer a little privacy and used the moment to sanitize her hands and pull on a pair of exam gloves, pleasantly satisfied when she heard the clanking of armor being shed and the heavy pieces being carefully placed on the table.

She turned back around and watched him rolling up the sleeves of his flight suit, exposing his muscular arms up to his biceps and she had to remind herself that she was a professional — salivating over a patient was unethical. With a deep breath she went back into Doctor mode, assessing his arms for easy-to-access veins.

A hiss sounded from him when she palpated his inner elbow and she looked up at his blank t-shaped visor.

“Did that hurt?” she asked.

The helmet shook, “Cold hands.”

She smiled, “Sorry, should’ve warned you. Kind of ironic isn’t it?”

“What do you mean?”

“Considering it’s hotter than a Mustafarian volcano outside,” she explained, pressing further and finding a juicy vein. “Little pinch,” she said, using the prepped needle to pierce his golden-brown skin. If she wasn’t mistaken, she glimpsed the bottom edge of a tattoo hiding under his rolled-up sleeve.

When the vial was full, she pulled the needle out and took some of the prepared bacta gel across the small hole in Mando’s skin, then put a small bandage over it. “That can come off in half an hour. Let me get this sample going so I can get your results before you leave, then we can do the retinal scan.”

She moved toward the far side of the room toward her lab equipment, but a large hand on her wrist stopped her.

“Retinal scan?” Mando asked, helmet tilted in concern.

“Yeah, it’s really quick. Just to make sure your brain function is normal, no big deal,” she explained with a shrug. With how still he once again was, she guessed it was not, in fact, not a big deal to him.

From what little she knew of Mandalorian culture, their armor and weapons were sacred to them but he’d already taken off his arm pieces. Maybe something about the helmet was different?

“I…my Creed, uh, I can’t remove my helmet,” he said haltingly, removing his hand from her wrist.

It was her turn to tilt her head in confusion, “What, like ever? How do you shower?”

“I can take it off, but not in front of other living beings. If I did, I couldn’t put it back on.”

“Oh,” she breathed. She nibbled on her lower lip as she tried to think of a solution. She didn’t want to let him leave without the scan but at the same time she couldn’t ask him to break his Creed for a fifteen-second scan.

“Ah! Okay,” she exclaimed as an idea came to her. She grabbed the scanner off of its charger and put it on the exam table in front of him. “I’ll step out, you remove your helmet and run the scan yourself. It’s easy,” she said, sensing his hesitation, “Push this button here and hold the scanner in front of your eyes until it double beeps, about fifteen seconds, then you put your helmet back on and I’ll come back. Think that’ll work?” she asked, looking up at his visor hopefully.

After a few seconds, he replied “Yeah. That’ll work.”

Her smile widened and she nodded, “Let me get your blood tests going and then I’ll step out.”

Din’s POV

This was the exact reason he hadn’t been to a doctor since taking the Creed. Every Mandalorian covert had their own stash of medical supplies and were trained in first aid, so it never seemed important. He’d been cursing himself for mentioning his back pain to Peli until stepping into the Doctor’s office.

The fact that she was holding his ship pretty much hostage until he went to the Doctor was only part of what got him here.

To her credit, the Doctor had been respectful and considerate so far — her solution to his issue with the brain scan was simple, but spoke volumes to her character. Having only known her for a few minutes he could tell she was trustworthy, even though something in her eyes spoke of some hidden truths.

Not wanting to keep her waiting in the other room for long, he double checked his surroundings before removing his helmet, pushing the button on the scanner that she’d shown him, and waiting for the ‘beep-beep’ to signal it had finished.

He replaced his helmet and called her back into the room. She swept back in and smiled at him.

“That didn’t hurt too much, did it?” she asked in a joking tone that made him smirk. She was cheeky, this doctor.

“Virtually painless,” he said.

“Good, wouldn’t want to completely scare you off,” she joked again but his breath caught in his throat. She placed the scanner on its charging port and looked at the screen in front of her, assessing the results with a furrow in her brow.

Din took a moment to finally look at her. He’d already noticed how pretty she was, hair drawn back and up off her neck to combat the heat of the Tatooine suns. Her eyes were sharp and intelligent, and every time she’d looked his way he felt like she could see through the beskar he wore. Unknowingly, she’d already locked eyes with him a few times despite his helmet. While she looked over his results, she absentmindedly played with a necklace — some sort of pendant on a long silver chain — he didn’t see any more jewelry.

“Well, your brain looks normal. No irregularities or past concussions showing up, but I guess that’s what the helmet is for,” she said, glancing his way. He nodded.”You mentioned some back pain, which is normal for your age, but I can take a look and maybe get you some pain supplements.”

He nodded again and swept his cape aside, gathering it over one shoulder and exposing his jetpack.

“Well,” she said with a chuckle, “that’ll do it.” She grabbed a different scanner while he took off his jetpack. His entire spine straightened as he felt her fingers ghost along his lower back.

“May I?” she asked, and he swallowed hard, mouth suddenly dry.

“Yes.”

She gently lifted the back of his flight shirt, the coldness of her fingers raising goosebumps along his arms. The scanner she held chirped, and she dropped his shirt back into place.

“Just what I thought,” she said as he pulled the jetpack back on. “Looks like it’s muscular, not spinal, so I’ll throw some anti-inflammatory salve, and if you’d like, some pain supplement. A mild one,” she added.

“Thank you,” he said.

She crossed to a cabinet, bending down to open it and Din averted his gaze. From inside she extracted a small tin and a glass jar, cursing when she found it empty.

“Kriffing hell,” she muttered, “Sorry, looks like I’m out of the pain supplement. Outer Rim supply lines suck.”

“That’s okay,” he offered, but she was insistent.

“I feel bad now, getting your hopes up like that. I have something stronger but I figured with being a bounty hunter you’d want to keep your wits about you.”

“I appreciate that. The salve will do fine for now.”

“I mean, if you ever find yourself in a trading outpost or on Arvala-7, you could get some for yourself. I’ll write down the name.” She busied herself with that for a moment before another mechanical buzzing caught her attention.

“Ah, your blood results!” Fluttering past, she slipped the piece of flimsi into his gloved hand. He caught a whiff of her scent — night-blooming flowers and citrus, with a tinge of sweat.

She pursed her lips, and Din wanted to reach over and pull the bottom one loose with his thumb. All her touches had awakened something in him that he usually kept locked away. “Hmm…looks like you’re a little low on Potassium and a few different vitamins, but no major illnesses or viruses, which is good. No malignant bacteria hiding in your bloodstream either, no parasites…damn, that beskar keeps everything out, doesn’t it?”

She glanced his way, but kept on talking, “I’m still going to recommend a few vaccines, and a bit of a diet change. Let me guess, you mostly survive on ration packs?”

He nodded, “I do.”

“I’m going to suggest eating some more fruits in general, that’ll help with the vitamin deficiencies and the potassium. Ration packs are pretty nutritious, but with your lifestyle you burn through certain things quicker than others, so it’s best to supplement the packs. Just a few more hypos and you’ll be all set to go back to Peli with a clean bill of health. Any other questions or concerns?”

Part of him wanted to ask if she was busy later that night, especially when they locked eyes under his helmet. His mouth went dry, and all he could manage was a shake of his head.

He cleared his throat, “No, no. Thank you, Doctor.”

“You are very welcome, Mando,” she said, handing him a small bag with papers and the salve inside.

“Din,” he offered before he could think about it.

“Hmm?”

He cleared his throat again, “My name is Din.”

Her smile was radiant and Din felt a flutter in his chest. “Nice to meet you, Din. Whenever you need me, I’m here.”

He reached out and shook her proffered hand. “I’ll be sure to take you up on that, Doc.”

#writing challenge #fanfiction #in bloom #fluff #star wars fic #mando x reader #mando x you #the mandalorian #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin fic #din djarin x oc

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thatredheadwriter · 2 years

Text

Softer

din djarin x female reader

Your aloof Mandalorian employer, and dare you say friend, is surprisingly considerate when it comes to your monthly cycle.

I just started The Mandalorian and I’m already obsessed. I also just happened to be on my period, and I needed to work through some writers block. So please enjoy fluffy, awkward Din.

This is a SFW oneshot for female reader with Din Djarin of The Mandalorian. This work does not contain smut, however, it may contain mature language or themes, and as a rule, my blog is only for those over the age of 18. As a writer, I will attempt to make accurate warnings for each of my fics, however, I cannot guarantee that I will identify each and every sensitive topic. My works regularly contain swearing, allusions to/mentions of sex, and canon-level violence.

Warnings Include (but are not limited to):

Swearing (English and Star Wars canon languages)

Menstruation (this shouldn’t have to be a warning)

The expectation for men to be dicks about menstruation

Din is the sweetest

Din is kinda stupid and walks in on someone changing

helmetless!Din (just a little)

Mutual pining

Please read at your own discretion and consume your fanfiction responsibly.

You woke up feeling sticky.

The gentle hum of the ship around you was nearly enough to lull you back to sleep, but the stickiness between your thighs and the cold sweat on your skin left you far too uncomfortable to even think about going back to sleep, despite the fact that your watch told you it was far too early for any living thing to be awake.

“Dank farrick,” you cursed, sitting up carefully, sure to duck your head and avoid the shelf above you. With a groan, you slid out of your ‘den’, as Mando referred to it, gathered the blankets you’d been sleeping on, and stalked off towards the laundering unit.

You knew your cycle was due soon, but ever since joining the small crew of the Razor Crest, it was harder to track time. It was the inky blackness of space, the way days would run together. It had nothing to do with your distracting companion, your boss, who stalked around the ship as a brooding pile of armor. The companion you were starting to become strangely attached to.

The laundering unit was empty, thank the Maker. You were just finished shoving the soiled bedding into the chamber and digging around the storage area for the right soap to add, but then a gloved hand clamped down on your shoulder and you yelped.

“Shit, Mando,” you clamped a hand down on your chest to steady your breathing, “How is someone covered in so much beskar so quiet?”

He didn’t answer you, of course, only tilting his helmet at you as he leaned against the wall of the ship. “What are you doing up so early?”

Your stomach churned, only partially from the cramps. There wasn’t much you knew about the mysterious Mandalorian who hired you–hell, you called him Mando, you didn’t even know his name. But you had deciphered he was human, based on his hands. They were the only part of him you’d ever seen without the armor, once when he was tending to a particularly nasty burn you’d picked up trying to fix the main cooling unit. His touch had been surprisingly soft, and you’re loathe to admit you’ve dreamed about it every night since.

But you also knew he was a man. And most men you’d met, even if they belonged to a mammalian species, were distinctly uncomfortable with the idea of menstruation.

“Uh, no particular reason,” you shrugged half-heartedly, finally finding the laundry powder you needed and pouring some into the appropriate compartment of the machine. The bright green bottle of fabric softener was easier to find.

You’d mentioned once how you missed using it, the smell in particular, and on the next supply run, there it was amongst the rations and parts. You hadn’t asked for it, but he’d remembered anyways.

“Why are you doing laundry?” he nodded at the machine. Dammit, he was suspicious.

“Well, it’s just been a while since I washed my bedding. Don’t want to be gross,” you made a face at the last bit. Not only was the conversation making you uncomfortable, but also the growing wetness between your legs. You were grateful for your black leggings and tunic, disguising the mess.

“You washed it eight days ago.”

Shit, why did he have to be so observant?

“Look, maybe I was eating in bed–which, I know, I know, crumbs lead to pests–and I might have spilled a little something is all,” you tried, putting on your best sheepish face. It was working, it seemed, he pushed off from the wall and headed behind you towards the galley. But before you could start the unit, he had slid in between you and it, popping open the door, and pulling out your blanket.

“Blood?” he inspected the fabric.

Suddenly you were pressed against the wall of the ship, gloved hands flying over your body. But not in the way you’d dreamed about that one time. This was clinical, urgent.

“Where are you injured?” he knelt in front of you, searching for any obvious wounds, any signs of pain. The visor of his helmet was tilted up at you, and you had to remind yourself to breathe.

“I’m not injured,” you pushed his hands away from your arms. “Please Mando, I’m fine.”

He stood up to his full height but didn’t let you go. “You’re bleeding, you’re not fine. Tell me what’s wrong now, or I’m taking us to the nearest starport to get you checked by a medic.”

Your face burned. Why did you have to work for the one person in the galaxy as stubborn as you?

“I’m not injured,” you reiterated. “I’m-I’m menstruating,” you mumbled out, staring at the grated floor below you.

“What?”

“Dank farrick! I’m menstruating,” you practically yelled at the shiny surface you’d come to consider as his face.

He immediately took a step back. Great, now he’s disgusted and wants nothing to do with you.

“Look, I’m sorry if you’re uncomfortable, but you’re so kriffing nosey…” you trailed off, crossing your arms across your chest and trying to seem aloof. Not like your damn hormones were making you want to cry and scream and eat all the cold rations all at once.

“I’m not uncomfortable. I’m sorry for prying,” he spoke softly.

“It’s okay,” you chewed on your bottom lip.

“You should go clean up.”

“Yeah,” you nodded, slipping away towards the fresher and made it inside before you broke, the tears streaming down your face. You weren’t sure why. Mando wasn’t mad at you, he wasn’t shunning you. He almost seemed to care.

Stepping into the spray of hot water, you allowed your tensions and emotions to diffuse into the steam around you. As red swirled around your feet and down the drain, you couldn’t help but think about what softness might lay under all that beskar.

Eventually, you cut off the water and dried yourself with one of the threadbare towels hanging by the door. It wasn’t until you were ready to step out that you realized you’d forgotten to get clean clothes to change into. So you wrapped the towel around you and hoped you could get back to your makeshift bunk before you started bleeding everywhere.

But when you opened the fresher door, there was a stack of neatly folded clothes settled right where it would be impossible to miss. And on top, an absorption pad. Your face heated at the thought of your big scary boss going through your quarters to find you clean clothes–clean panties, you realized–and a pad. As horrifying as it was, it was an overwhelmingly sweet gesture, like the fabric softener.

He’d chosen well for you: a pair of soft, loose-fitting pants that tapered at the ankles and an old but soft t-shirt you’d had for ages. You were also grateful he hadn’t brought anything frilly or lacy from your underwear collection, not that there were a lot of options like that, but rather a simple pair you’d chosen to match your skin tone. He hadn’t brought you a chest cover, but you didn’t mind so much. The t-shirt was large enough that you felt modest even without one.

Running a hand through your damp hair, you checked that your blankets were still cycling through the laundry unit before slipping into the galley, making sure to step heavily in your bare feet to announce your arrival. Once you’d almost snuck up on Mando when he’d been eating, sans helmet, and you weren’t anxious to repeat it.

But he wasn’t sitting around the table. No, he was standing in the small kitchen. And something smelled really good.

“Are you cooking?” you asked incredulously, sliding into the bench by the table.

It was easier to read him–at least from behind–when he wasn’t wearing his cowl. You could see his shoulders stiffen before he turned around and fixed you in the icy crosshairs of his visor.

“Yes. It’s an old recipe, the warriors in my covert who have cycles say it helps.”

“Oh,” was all you could say. It was inarguably the nicest thing anyone had ever done for you.

“Here,” he grabbed a steaming cup of something from a nearby workbench and set it in front of you. It smelled of cinnamon and herbs, and reminded you of Mando himself. “Behot shig. It’ll help.”

You took the container in your hands, allowing the warmth radiating from it to seep deep into your bones. It tasted similar to the tea of the last planet you’d been on, but without the sickly sweet aftertaste. A heady buzz settled into your veins and you sighed.

“Thank you.” You finally managed the words you’d wanted to say for the last hour, staring deep into the amber liquid.

He was quiet for a moment, save for the breathing of his respirator and the crackling of whatever was on the stove.

“You’re welcome.”

While you waited for him to finish the meal, you pulled the holopad from its place in the wall and began running your daily diagnostic check.

“The main cooling unit is down again,” you groaned, leaning your head against the wall in frustration. If the cooling unit wasn’t working, the hyperdrive would suffer a catastrophic failure, and you’d be in deep shit. “I could have sworn it was the condenser coil, but I replaced it last week. At this rate, it’s gonna be cheaper to replace the whole unit.”

Mando grunted as he set a plate full of food down in front of you. It looked good, you could smell the spices and the colors were far more vibrant than what you were used to in ration foods.

“I’ll take care of it.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Mando, please. I may not be some hardcore Mandalorian warrior lady, but I can still do my job.”

He was silent for a minute. You imagined you were looking right into his eyes, although there was no way to tell. This was a stare-down. And maybe he was stubborn, but so were you.

“Ok,” he agreed quietly, “But take it easy. Let me know if you need anything.”

You didn’t see much of Mando for the day, which wasn’t necessarily odd. But usually, he’d check in on you once or twice throughout the day just to make sure you weren’t ruining his ship or dead. Aside from passing him in the hallway once, you didn’t see him all day. He seemed to be busying himself with a project in the bunkroom, his personal quarters. You’d only been inside a few times, and never more than a few minutes at a time.

It wasn’t until you went to get your blankets from the laundry unit and found it empty that you thought anything of it. Okay, maybe Mando was being nice and put them back in your makeshift bunk. But they weren’t there either. In fact, all of your belongings were missing and the little space between crates that you’d transformed into your own personal nest was closed up.

If ever you were going to lose your cool on Mando, it was now. You’d woken up early, spent damn near three hours shoved in the tiny, unbearably hot compartment next to the broken cooling unit. Your back and stomach were killing you despite the painkillers you’d taken earlier in the day. All you wanted to do was crawl into bed and go to sleep.

That’s how you found yourself close to angry-crying as you pounded on the door to Mando’s quarters. You wanted your stuff, you wanted your blankets, and most of all you wanted to sleep.

“Mando!” you hit the door with the side of your fist as hard as you could, producing a satisfying banging sound. “Where’s my shit, dammit?”

Suddenly the panel slid open and you were able to catch yourself before hitting him square in the chest plate. Not that it would have hurt him, just embarrassed you.

“Come here,” he ordered, stepping aside for you to enter his personal quarters. You eyed him warily, like a mouse entering a lion’s den.

You followed his gaze–well, what you assumed he was looking at–to the wall opposite his bunk. Where before there was just empty space, a blank wall, was a new cot.

Now, new may have been an understatement. It was semi embedded in the wall, like Mando’s own bed, and you could see where he’d cobbled it together from spare parts. The mattress wasn’t anything spectacularly luxurious, but it had been made up with your favorite blankets. Your favorite feature was perhaps the privacy screen.

“This morning reminded me of my promise, when you first joined my crew, that I would get you a proper bunk,” he spoke behind you, watching you admire his work. Behind the modulator, you could almost detect a hint of nervousness.

You turned to face him, biting down on your lower lip to keep from crying. “It’s wonderful, Mando. Thank you,” you whispered. It was truly the nicest thing anyone had ever done for you. He was literally making room for you in his life.

“If you feel you don’t have enough privacy, we can figure something else out. I’ve been-”

“Really, it’s perfect,” you grinned, earlier anger forgotten. “You’re sure you have enough privacy? I don’t want you sleeping with the bucket on just because of me.”

“When it’s dark…” he moved to the control panel by the door, hitting a blue button and plunging the room into darkness. The only source of light was the same blue button on the wall and a green button on the door to the fresher. “You can’t see me.”

“Perfect,’ you nodded, not sure if he could see you.

He hit the button again and you winced as the lights came back on. You stared at each other in silence for a few moments, neither one of you with much to say.

“I, uh, I think I’m going to turn in for the night,” you said awkwardly, wrapping your arms around your middle and trying not to wince as another cramp rolled through you.

“Your things are in your trunk tucked away there,” he gestured to a small compartment where you could see he’d placed your belongings.

“Thanks,” you smiled once more and knelt to gather some sleep clothes.

“You can use the fresher in here if you’d like,” he said almost awkwardly. “I’ll leave you alone now.”

Before he could get out the door, you were on your feet again, grabbing his arm. He was unfamiliar with this kind of contact with you, and you felt like he might snarl at you like a wild animal. But he simply fixed you with his visor’s gaze.

“Thank you. For everything,” you said sincerely, offering a small smile. He grumbled something under his breath and left you standing by your new bed.

Alone again, and finally close to the peaceful oblivion of sleep, you began preparing for bed. First, you went to the fresher to relieve yourself and change your absorption pad before pulling a favorite pair of sleep shorts from your collection. Stripping down to your underwear, you shimmied them up over your hips and began rummaging for a tank top you knew was in there somewhere.

You’d just found the elusive garment and stood up to put it on when the door slid open. A yelp of surprise escaped your lips and you heard Mando say something unfamiliar in Mando’a before quickly shutting the panel back.

“I’m sorry,” he called through the comms unit on the other side of the door. “I brought you something.”

You tugged the shirt over your head and tried to slow your heart rate as you made your way to the wall panel, opening the door to let him in.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated. You could tell from the tilt of his helmet that he was not looking at you. Not even as he handed you a water bottle, a painkiller, and some strange pillow-like thing. It was almost tacky on one side, and the other was metallic, and yet the whole thing was soft and flexible.

“It’s alright,” you set the items on your bed. “I’m sure there’s going to be an adjustment period for…this.”

He nodded, turning to survey the room. It made you giggle, to think that the big bad Mando couldn’t even look at you now. You’d imagined his face a million times, but now you imagined him blushing.

“I’ll leave you alone now,” he grunted, leaving you with your thoughts.

You took the painkiller and drank most of the water. The bed was surprisingly comfortable, and you could feel your eyelids drooping as soon as you slipped in. As you lay on your back, staring up at the rough metal seams and fastenings above you, you wondered what the hell this thing was that Mando had brought you.

Then you remembered. The second bounty he took after hiring you. The locator was taking him towards Hoth and he’d picked up some extra supplies to deal with the extreme climate, including a personal warmer.

You lifted your shirt at the bottom and pushed your shorts down slightly so you could lay the tacky side of the warmer against your skin. It was only a moment later that you found the controls, and you sighed in relief as warmth spread through your lower abdomen.

You hated to move once you finally got comfortable, but you still needed to turn the lights off, so you hauled yourself over to the panel and hit the button before fumbling your way back in the dark. It wasn’t long before you fell asleep. It was so fast that you forgot to draw the privacy screen.

When Din finally returned to his quarters, now your quarters too, he reminded himself, he was careful to listen for movement. He certainly didn’t want a repeat of the evening’s earlier incident.

He’d never been so kriffing embarrassed in his life. Except for maybe later when he caught himself thinking about your tits as he ate his dinner. They were just so perfect and soft-looking. He’d only seen them for half a second, but he knew they’d haunt his dreams for years.

He felt dirty for thinking of you that way. You were his employee, his coworker, his friend. But Din liked caring for you. He wanted to do so much more than he did, than he could, but he knew you wouldn’t allow it. It would be inappropriate for a superior to look after his subordinate like that.

Sometimes he wondered if you harbored anything for him other than friendly cooperation. Like the time he’d come back from his hunt on Hoth half frost-bitten and you’d insisted on staying awake with him until his vitals returned to normal. Or the one time you made him dinner, a secret family recipe you’d called it, and sat blindfolded across from him as he ate, just so you could share a meal with him.

But then he reminds himself that you don’t even know his name. And he doesn’t know much about you other than your name.

So Din resigns himself to maintaining a professional relationship with you as he opens the door to the living quarters. All that’s thrown out the window the minute he sees your sleeping face tucked softly into your pillow, legs curled up in front of you. Soft breaths leave your mouth and he can see the lights of the warmer from under the blanket.

As the door shut behind him, plunging him into darkness, he removed his helmet. He’d been living aboard for so long, that it was easy to find his way to your side even in the pitch black.

He leaned in, placing a kiss to your temple. “Good night, mesh’la,” he murmurs into your skin.

#the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin fluff #mando fluff #din djarin x reader #din djarin x reader fluff #mando x reader #mando x reader fluff #star wars #the mandalorian fluff #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian fanfic

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ithebookhoarder · 1 year

Text

A Work in Progress (Din Djarin x Mechanic!Reader)

Summary: Working at Peli’s repair shop, you’d never expected to find yourself growing close to a customer - let alone a Mandalorian, of all people. Yet, somehow, with every visit you seem to be getting just a little closer to the mysterious man behind the Beskar...

A/N: First of all, I love my Mando baby, and have been dying to write for him. So, thanks to the anon who sent me the message about Din being Demi-sexual. You really gave me the inspiration for this one. Also, I have to say, I totally agree with your head canon. Personally, I know what it feels like to have to have a close connection before you can even feel remotely attracted to someone. With Din’s beliefs and practises I feel he would need to feel connected before he could consider entering a relationship with you, let alone a physical one - but that’s just my opinion...

Warnings: N/A - but let me know if you think I missed any

Masterlist

------

You’ve grown to know the Mandalorian quite well in the last couple of years; he’s a frequent customer at the junk yard and repair shop you work at, having returned multiple times since he’d first been forced to ask you for repairs.

The Razor Crest was now a familiar ship and a smile always slid into place as soon as you saw it entering the atmosphere. Sure, you were instantly rewarded with Peli’s teasing, but you knew she meant no harm - if anything, she seemed to have a soft spot for the Mandalorian and the tiny green child he now towed about with him.

Why else did she give him such a big discount?

Why else did she always insist you prioritise him over any customers you already had waiting?

Why else did she make sure you were the one to do the work - her ’best damn mechanic in the whole galaxy’ - when she could have done it herself?

He would only get the best… which was probably why he always tipped the best too.

In fact, more than once, you’d been surprised by the purse of credits he’d place in your hand just before leaving, refusing to take it back no matter how much you protested.

“Mando… This… this is too much.”

“No,” he’d chuckle, “it’s the least you deserve.”

“But, it was a simple job-”

“Simple? Yes, but you did it well. You earned it, so keep the money. Please.”

What else could you do but accept? It was just part of your odd relationship and the steady routine you’d fallen in to as time had gone by.

Just like how he’d always make sure to talk to you when he was around, letting you ask questions about what he’d been up to since you’d last saw one another.

Just like how he’d let you tend to his wounds, once or twice, after a hunt had gone a little awry and he was unable to do so for himself.

Just like how he’d started bringing you little things from his trips to different planets, including the beaded necklace you never took off.

It was all of these things that made him your favourite customer… that made you consider him more as a friend and a good one, at that. You were also pretty sure he felt the same. Otherwise, there were plenty other places he could have chosen to spend his time, but he chose to spend it with you.

Today was one of those days.

For some reason, Mando had managed to secure his bounty much earlier than expected and cashed in the reward he’d been chasing. As such, you weren’t quite finished with making sure his ship was safe to fly again. You’d thought you’d have a couple more days at least.

He assured you there was no rush - he wasn’t desperate to leave the planet anytime soon - which was a relief. You hadn’t been ready to say goodbye just yet, nor had you had the ship ready for him either.

Still, you were also kind of happy at the change in schedule, especially when it meant that Mando had decided to loiter next to you, watching as you finished your work. And, Maker above, did you love to having him there… even if it made butterflies erupt in your stomach.

It didn’t matter that you couldn’t see his face, concealed as it was behind that helmet of his. You’d learned his mannerisms well enough to understand him through his body language and modulated voice-box.

Like now, for example, the way his head tilted and seemed to track you as you dithered about the place told you he was studying you with great interest. You could even swear you heard the odd hum of approval… but that could also have been from the child, who was also watching you eagerly from his perch next to Peli’s office.

“You know you can rewire this so it doesn’t blow so often.”

“Excuse me?”

“Yeah,” you chuckle, turning to stare at the Mandalorian, surprising him with your suggestion. You knew he was a capable mechanic in his own right, having made enough patch jobs over the years to see him through his travels. Still, you could tell he enjoyed listening to you and sharing your expertise. “Come here and I’ll show you. That way you won’t have to come in the next time it starts acting up… or force that sweet baby to climb inside the engine.”

“O… ok - but I would argue it was only once.”

“Still! He’s a baby!”

The Mandalorian chuckled under his breath, and held his hands up in surrender. He knew better than to fight with you on something like this. “Alright, I get your point. It was a bad idea. You better show me how to do it myself then.”

If you didn’t know better, you’d have said he almost sounded disappointed at the prospect of not needing to visit so often. However, he dutifully slotted into place next to you and began handing you tools when you asked for them, like you’d been working together your whole lives.

You spent the rest of the day like that; passing tools between you and talking, feeling the tension grow every time yours hands brushed one another. Every time your gazes met. Every time you’d laugh at something the other said.

It felt good… it felt, easy… it felt right - like something between you had clicked into place as easily as the machinery you’d been working on.

If only you could understand it so well.

Instead, your heart was in your mouth as darkness fell over the planet. For the first time since you’d met the Mandalorian, you actually felt nervous. You didn’t know why considering how well you knew one another by this point in your lives, but perhaps it was because you were supposed to be closing up the repair shop soon.

It was now past closing time, if you were being honest, but you’d been having too much fun with Mando to even consider dismissing him for the night. Besides, Peli wasn’t even back yet to lock up and Mando was making no effort to try and leave. If he was still around it was because he wanted to be.

Or so you told yourself as you tried not to blush for the hundredth time that day. It was just hard when his hand kept brushing against yours, and he was always somehow stood right next to you, despite having the whole garage to yourselves. The amount of times you kept turning around and bumping into him was getting comical now.

“So,” he started, surprising you as he tore you from your frantic thoughts. “Don’t you have someone back at home to rush off to? I’m sure they’re probably wondering where you are.”

“I uh… it’s still just me,” you answered quietly, surprised by the somewhat personal question. Sure, you often talked about personal things, things you never talked about with other customers, but his curious tone still caught you off guard. “No one to worry about me, thankfully. Means I can put in the extra hours here, given how busy we’ve been lately.”

The Mandalorian hummed to himself. He didn’t say anything for a few minutes after, which was enough to make your nerves fray even more. Your hands were shaking so badly you practically dropped your tools as you tried to put them away neatly, back in their boxes.

It was the heat of his eyes on you that made you feel light headed. What you wouldn’t give to know what was going on inside that helmet of his…

“What about you? I know you have the kid now,” you replied hastily. “No one else in your crew to keep you two out of trouble?”

“Uh, no. Just us two, still.”

“Oh.”

Now it was your turn to fall silent as you tried not to read into the answer. Of course he didn’t have anyone given his private nature and slightly nomadic lifestyle. He’d only even taken Grogu on thanks to the failed bounty, rather than simply because he’d wanted company… even if you knew he was grateful for it nonetheless.

“Can… can I ask you a question?”

You nodded. “Of course. Shoot.”

“Do you … that is… dank ferrik, do you like me?”

You blinked in surprise. You hadn’t expected that question. “Uh… of course, I do. Don’t you like me too?”

“Yes… but… I mean, not just as friends? or as a customer?”

A small laugh escaped you as you realised he sounded every bit as nervous as you did.

“Mando, you stopped being just a customer a long time ago. Ever since you brought me back those cookies from the market because you simply thought I looked hungry.”

His warm laughter made your heart flutter. “I’m still sorry you only got to eat a few.”

“Who knew the little tyke had got so clever, huh?”

“That’s one word for it.”

You couldn’t help but feel the paternal pride radiating off of the Mandalorian at the mention of his adopted son and his ever growing abilities.

You could also feel the tension, building with every second his original question went unanswered.

If you didn’t know better, you’d have sworn the bounty hunter was blushing, even beneath the beskar helmet that concealed the face you’d often dreamed about.

As it was, he flexed his hands by his sides, as if trying to rid himself of his anxiety.

“So, if I’m not just a customer then can I ask what that makes me?”

He’d taken the words right from your mouth.

Well, maybe you didn’t need words after all to communicate how you really felt about the man who had slowly stolen your heart piece by piece, with every visit...

So, you took a deep breath.

You stepped forward.

To your relief, he didn’t flinch or step back from your advance - or shoot you point blank.

No. Instead, his head titled and you heard him begin to try and ask you what was happening.

“Y/n-“

He never got to finish the sentence.

He was rendered speechless as you gently reached your oil stained hands up and rested them on either side of his helmet, holding him as if there wasn’t the layer between you both.

You then rose swiftly on to your tiptoes, before pressing a kiss against where his forehead would be.

The metal was cold under your lips. Yet, before you could worry that you’d somehow made an ass of yourself, his hands rose to rest delicately on your hips and pull you closer.

His touch sent shivers through you, the feel of him holding you electric - even through the gloves.

His head then tilted forward, so that the helmet was resting against your forehead instead, the gesture meaningful enough to make your heart skip a beat.

“That uh… that answer your question for you?”

A soft chuckle escaped him, causing you to release one of your own; it was all too surreal.

Here you were, in your garage, blushing like some school kid with their first crush, after kissing the customer you’d never even seen without his armour disguising him… yet you knew him.

Or, at least you knew what was important to know about him - enough to know he was a good person. A kind person. And a lonely one…

“I think that clears most of it up, yes,” the Mandalorian murmured. “And there was me thinking I was imagining things.”

“Imagining things?”

“Yes, like that you weren’t just being nice because you were working on my ship, for example. Or because Peli asked you to be.”

“Peli asks me to do a lot of things, Mando, and I don’t know how you haven’t noticed by now that I don’t always do them.”

Your laughter was unanimous, and loud enough that you both almost missed the sound of footsteps echoing from beyond the doorway - followed by a broken cough.

“So this is what you call working?”

You froze.

Both you and the Mandalorian suddenly leapt apart as if you’d been burned.

Thankfully, the owner of the voice waited a few more seconds before entering the room, giving you ample time to act as if nothing out of the ordinary had been happening only seconds ago.

"You're… you’re early, Peli,” you choke, trying not to die of embarrassment as your boss sauntered into the garage. The smile on her face was a smug one, as if she knew exactly what had been happening. “I thought you wouldn’t be back until later.”

"Good thing I decided to swing by early or I might have walked in on you two doing something entirely different," she teased, raising an eyebrow at the sight. “I’m just glad - by the sounds of it - you finally got your heads out of your asses and made a move. The tension was getting unbearable.“

"Oh… right.”

"Be gentle with them, alright? They're a gentle soul,” Peli stated simply, gesturing to you. “And my best mechanic. Just remember that, Mando. You break it, you buy it.”

You and Din were in unison without even trying as you both suddenly turned.

“Shut up, Peli.”

#the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian #din x reader #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #masterlist #the Mandalorion #grogu #grogu x reader #star wars #Star Wars x reader #ithebookhoarder #thesilentmage #demisexual #Pedro Pascal #pedro pascal character #the mandalorian headcanons

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auroramoon-draws16 · 4 months

Text

My friend convinced me to get into Star Wars

Send help

(Warning: SPOILERS and I’m not THAT into it, so correct where you see fit)

Assassin’s Creed x Star Wars

But the Brotherhood is an ancient af group, as old or older than the og Jedi order, they’re so secretive and mysterious that not even the modern order are sure they exist. Kind of like a spooky myth?

The Force be like: “Brotherhood? What Brotherhood? I didn’t help make any Brotherhood!” We love a bad gaslighting bitch 💜

I think they’d be force users who pretty much do as their original universe do: “We work in the Dark to serve the Light.” All the tenants included.

Their sabers are small af and more blade-like, sort of like the darkblade, but crystal clear and emits very little light, they barely make any noise too. (Phantom Sabers? Maybe? That sounds cool, right?) The Assassins got the white hoods and shit too. Omfg they can finally do the Leap of Faith wherever they want! Fuck gravity! We have the fucking force!

As for Eagle Vision, I think you could pass it off as a force ability. Being able to sense feelings and danger is a thing already, so being able to do a large sweep and tag friend/foe would be a step above that. Also treasures. Like the grabby lil dragons our Assassin babies are. They need to be able to fund shenanigans on the fly, and not all of them have time to grab some from their reserves!

As for their role in the main Star Wars story, we got options:

Shoving Desmond into this shit because I can~

Desmond and his Team™️ investigate the Clone Wars shit, because the Brotherhood has always been against oppression and have been systematically wiping out slavery from several parts of the galaxy for a while now, so they would automatically get suspicious. (Clones? Meant for fighting?? For an entire republic??? With no rights of their own???? Idk man, that sounds sus. Oh and the Jedi don’t have a choice because there’s a whole ass war and it would be against their code not to do anything about it? And there’s an order to kill literally all of them at a moment’s notice? Alright, guess we’ll fix this ourselves!)

Des and the crew find the chips and save the Jedi from mass genocide. Maybe killing Palpatine, because fuck that guy.

Would they need to reveal the Brotherhood’s existence to have that happen? Probably not, but it could happen. Boy, wouldn’t that be interesting?

Also, clone shenanigans, because I love them sm

Especially Bad Batch and Domino Squad

And Rex and Cody

My poor babies

But: if the Brotherhood was weakened like in their og universe and they couldn’t investigate (lets say they were compromised by the Sith for a while before the clone wars)

+ Des was born a bit later

Time to aid the rebellion and face destiny!

(If you REALLY want to throw Des into bullshit, like I know you do: Time travel fix it fic with Luke, Leia, Han, and Desmond!)

(You may also include Mandalorian fun, because I also love the Mandos, my other babies <3 Mandalorian culture goes hard and the fics that include them have kidnapped surprise adopted me)

Y’all have fun, I’m tired ^_^💜

#assassin's creed #desmond miles #star wars #the clone wars #the prequels #idk enough about this shit #i’m winging it #the force #force bullshit this time #time travel shenanigans #the mandalorian #someone write a fic #crossover motherfuckers #obi wan kenobi is hot #desmond go flirt with him #add him to the harem #do it

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lincolndjarin · 1 month

Text

socials, etc. .𖥔 ݁ ˖ ao3 ☆ insta ☆ kofi mdni, my entire blog is 18+ please read all tags and warnings, dddne fics are tagged accordingly follow @lincolndjarinnotifs for fic updates

navigation :

I - series, completed & ongoing

II - one off's

III - drabbles

I - series (in order of release)

Best Kept Secret [ completed series ] .𖥔 ݁ ˖ 195k words

bodyguard!Din Djarin x princess!reader

summary : Married off to a prince on a planet that you hate? New husband doesn't know you, and doesn't want to know you? New husband gifts you a personal Mandalorian body guard as a wedding present? Mandalorian is a wiseass who won't leave you alone? Lucky you.

tags: : enemies to friends to lovers, arranged marriage, forbidden love, smut, angst, canon-typical violence, eventual happy ending

.𖥔 ݁ ˖

Oh Honey [ completed series] .𖥔 ݁ ˖ 56k words

monster!Joel Miller x mortician!reader

summary : you’ve been given a gift. a fresh start in a brand new place, the sleepy little town of Honey, WV. a distant aunt has passed away and left you a little plot of land and her camper, the stars must be aligning for you because the local mortician is looking for an assistant and you’re desperate for the work experience. your new employer even offers to set you up with her brother-in-law! things are looking up, you’ve got a brand new home, a new town, a hot date, (and thanks to a series of bear attacks that started immediately after your arrival) you have more than enough work to keep you busy!

tags: : horror/mystery, angst, monster fucker, soulmates au, graphic descriptions of violence, body horror, gore

.𖥔 ݁ ˖

Every Now and Then [ ongoing series]

Joel Miller x f!reader

summary : Joel Miller destroyed you. He loved you, then he left, leaving you in the New York City, QZ. But he's a good southern gentleman, so of course he didn't leave you without a reminder of the time you spent together. Four years later you're living in Jackson, in a lovely little ranch house. (With your reminder.) The last person you want to see is Joel Miller, unfortunately you've never been particularly lucky.

tags: : angst, toxic relationships, unplanned pregnancy, possessive behavior, healing, extremely complicated relationships

.𖥔 ݁ ˖

Sparrow's Spectacles [ ongoing anthology ]

summary : a series of horror one shots based around different pedro characters. be warned, the dead doves are going to be remarkably inedible. installments will be tagged accordingly, all stories will be 18+ and dddne.

tags: : dead dove do not eat, horror, dub/noncon

.𖥔 ݁ ˖

Venus [ coming soon ]

Din Djarin x cyborg!reader

summary : this may be your only chance to explore the galaxy, even if you aren't fond of the man who's been tasked with protecting you. leaving your chosen family of a crime lord and a master assassin to join a stranger on his run down razor crest. you've been guaranteed safe passage to any planet you can dream of, all you have to do is watch his kid while he's working. it wouldn't be that bad of a gig if it weren't for your arm. and your leg. and your stomach. turns out the man eternally covered in steel loathes the fact that parts of you are made of metal. one ship, one bunk, one green baby, and a man who refuses to see you as anything other than a monster. what could go wrong?

tags: : enemies to lovers, slow burn, the razor crest lives, canon typical violence, eventual smut

II - one off's (in order alphabetically)

A Little Mishap [francisco morales x f!reader]

tags : dead dove do not eat, noncon, bondage

.𖥔 ݁ ˖

Bound in Beskar [din djarin x f!reader]

tags : armorer!mando, dom/sub vibes, pwp, blacksmith bondage

.𖥔 ݁ ˖

Constructive Criticisms [javier peña x f!reader]

tags : virginity loss, fluff, mutual masturbation

.𖥔 ݁ ˖

the Dragonfly & the Moon [joel miller x f!witch!reader]

tags : ritualistic sex, knife play, blood

.𖥔 ݁ ˖

More & More & More [jack daniels x f!reader]

tags : dead dove do not eat, noncon, bondage

.𖥔 ݁ ˖

My Sister Lives in the Attic [joel miller x f!reader]

tags : grief, angst, child loss

.𖥔 ݁ ˖

My Way [oberyn martell x wife!reader]

tags : married fluff, pegging

.𖥔 ݁ ˖

Not So Secret Santa [javier peña x f!coworker!reader]

tags : enemies to lovers, semi-public sex, christmas

.𖥔 ݁ ˖

Pretty in Pink [joel miller x f!reader]

tags : fluff, breeding kink, lingerie

.𖥔 ݁ ˖

Ride Cowgirl! [jack daniels x f!reader]

tags : unprotected sex, bondage

.𖥔 ݁ ˖

Sweet Boy [din djarin x gn!reader]

tags : sub!din, pegging

.𖥔 ݁ ˖

the Thing That Gives [ezra x f!reader]

tags : dead dove do not eat, noncon, tentacles

III - drabbles (under 1k words)

sub!din x f!reader

dieter bravo x f!reader

comandante veracruz x f!reader

#lincolndjarin #masterlist

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drawingdroid · 5 months

Text

Melting Point Masterlist

A Sculptor Din Djarin x Art PhD Reader Series

Summary: You're a first-year PhD at The University of Nevarro specialising in Mandalorian Art. When your favourite sculptor, the mysterious Mando, opens an art exhibition in the city, you're the first one to enrol. Unexpectedly, attending to that opening would end up changing your life forever.

Warnings: This is a slow burn, you've been warned!; a lot of talking about Art and PhD life; Reader is not Grogu's nanny but this is very Grogucentric if that makes sense; And Reader is Din's employee too; Very grumpy and antisocial Mando; Grogu is human but the only thing described are his eyes; Reader appearance is left blank except from the outfits; Age gap of 10-15 years;

A/N: This fic was absolutely inspired by that scene in Season 2 when Din is welding his ship in the ice planet Maldo Kreis. My brain went immediately into overdrive: hot man welding. And this is how this fic was born, but then the curse of the plot came to me and I have to brag about everything Fine Art has taught me. Mandalorian culture is super interesting from the point of view of the arts and iconography, and I couldn't resist writing this AU. I really hope you find it interesting!

Teaser

Prologue: Malleable/The Merchant

Chapter I: Metallike/The Artist

Chapter II: Temper/The Sculptor

Chapter III: Yield Strength/The Father

Chapter IV

And more...

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famwhy · 1 year

Text

Midnight Gardenias

Tangerine X Reader

Word Count: 3,439

Warnings: cussing, blood, little bit of gore (not too much detail), alcohol

This fic was inspired by the amazing @aeaean--bliss and their fic maybe. Please go check it out if you haven't already - it's a really good read, I promise 🙏

Weeks.

It had been weeks since he last texted. Weeks since he asked where you were. Weeks since you've had any form of contact with him.

Stupid. That's what it was. All of it. It was all so stupid.

Sure, you did kind of tell him to leave but that didn't mean you wanted him to leave your life. Granted, he wasn't a mind-reader but still. He should've used common sense to gauge as much.

Now that he was gone, ironically enough, you were just constantly being tortured with thoughts of him, him, him. Just him.

When you went to the ice cream parlour the other day, a man behind the counter had a tash and you couldn't help but think that Tan's was a hundred times better. Similarly, when you heard a hint of a British accent that sounded more Northern, you compared it to the Brit you knew's accent - quite obviously preferring it over the random man.

Hell, you couldn't even watch a West Ham game without thinking of him and his stupid socks with the logo printed onto them. West Ham was supposed to be your favourite football team, not something that reminded you of him!

And it was so dumb - it was just so dumb - that you were probably the only one suffering; that your feelings were probably left unreciprocated. It hurt so much. It felt like a giant claw ripped through your flesh to grab at your heart and dig its sharp teeth into it, all-the-while Tan stood there, watching with a scoff of derision, mocking you for falling in love with him like the little shit he was.

Frustration couldn't even begin to describe what you felt towards your whole situation.

"Dammit, what was I gonna do again?"

Ah, that's right, you were about to watch The Mandalorian.

God, you wished you had a man like Mando. A caring guy who was sort of stand-offish but not to a degree where he was a complete jerk; more so to the perfect degree of optimum mysterious-ness any girl would want in a guy. And the fact that he was a good dad added like, a hundred more attractive points to his list of desirable traits.

But nooo, you just had to get a guy who was so in over his head with every action he did, it was atrocious.

A continuous 'beep!' coming from your fridge had your foggy eyes clear up and scan through the open capsule for what you originally wished to source out. Unfortunately, it was almost completely empty. How wonderful.

"When will life ever go my way?"

With a swing of your arm, you slammed the door shut.

Now, you wished you could say that you saw it coming and were able to move out of the way just in time but— that would just be a lie. It had all happened way too fast.

The wobbling of the fridge as the door shut; the container at the top abruptly being thrown off balance; and the sharp spike of pain that erupted from the top of your scalp.

"Argh! Shit!"

That hurt like a bitch.

As your hand slowly rose up to rub against your poor head, a small 'ding!' came from your phone.

Seemed as though something wanted your attention.

Jerk r u home rn? 12:35 p.m.

What's this? Did someone decide they were suddenly on speaking terms with you again?

The thought had you rolling your eyes.

Jerk Y/N, i don't have time for games 12:37 p.m.

Ha, this was coming from the same guy who just loved to play games with your mind when it came to his feelings.

Just who the hell did he think he was? Going AWOL on you for a couple of weeks just to hit you up with a text at twelve-thirty in the night asking if you were home; as though he didn't just torture you with thoughts on whether or not you messed everything up and caused him to leave you for good; as though he wasn't causing you to lose your fucking mind trying to decipher what the fuck he meant whenever he parted his lips to say something just to not say anything at all; as though he wasn't the only thing on your mind since you first met all that time ago.

Ridiculous. His audacity was utterly ridiculous.

Well... from the looks of things, it seemed like he wasn't going to send another text.

Good riddance.

Him and his pride could go fuck themselves.

Jerk love, please, i need you 12:41 p.m.

He left you alone for weeks without any form of contact, weeks without any sort of apology.

He stepped all over you like a fucking doormat; left your body aching from head-to-toe from the constant rejection; had your eyes bulging out from how desperately you didn't want to give him your tears.

You should hate him.

So then, why...?

...why was it that you found your fingers gliding across the screen as soon as you registered that last text in your head?

He needed you.

He'd never said that before.

Maybe...

Maybe you could—?

You yh, i'm home 12:41 p.m.

No response, just a simple 'read' underneath - of course. Why did you even let yourself hope for anything more?

No sort of elaboration, nothing. Just left you in the dark with no explanation whatsoever for why he asked that question.

Weeks of not talking or contacting you at all and then he just hit you with that. He was probably on his way to freeload off of you right now.

Pathetic. Not just him, but you too. How could you let him bounce off of you like that? He was a fucking leech and you just let him drain you dry.

You almost didn't notice when there was a knock at your door - whoever it was could wait—

—except, no, apparently they couldn't - for, not long after, the knocks turned into several slams done in rapid succession. Those, paired with the migraine you were starting to get for trying to decipher the indecipherable, made for a killer ache inside your head; one that was really starting to grind your gears.

The knocking continued.

"Fucking— I'm coming, alright?!"

You grumbled under your breath, bitter feelings for the man you loved seeping into your current mood; ready to be unfairly unleashed onto the poor individual stood at your door.

"What the fuck do you...?" You trailed off, one hand against the handle of your now-open door, one hand losing its grip on your hip to flop by your side as you gazed on in astonishment.

There, stood before you, was Tangerine. Though, that wasn't what surprised you.

No, instead, what surprised you was the darker patch of blue on his waistcoat and the crimson seeping through his white undershirt, staining it and causing it to look grossly soggy.

He was hurt.

"Holy shit! You're bleeding."

"Is that so? I didn't fucking notice."

He hissed the sentence out, venom coating his tongue and frustration written clear on his visage - directed straight at you as though you were the one in the wrong here. The fucking audacity.

You parted open your mouth, ready to yell at him through unfiltered lips; burning with bottled up rage that was ready to spill over like a witch's wicked brew in a cauldron when—

"Argh! Fuck me!"

His knees started to buckle and his legs nearly gave out as he winced, buckling over with both muscular arms wrapping around his gut. The sight was foreign to your eyes. You had never seen him so weak.

"Holy shit," you cussed again, moving to aid him back up.

Of course, him being the stubborn little shit he was, he damn near pushed you away as soon as you offered up help. Luckily, he lost too much blood for the push to actually do anything.

...was it appropriate to call that lucky?

While you would have loved to ponder your fucked up morality further, the sticky substance that soaked through your fingertips seemed to call for your attention with a higher priority.

"Holy shit—" the cold substance ran down your arm, "—what the fuck? I should call the ambulance at least."

"No."

His voice was stern and abrupt; callous and uncaring. His brows had furrowed so deeply and his expression became near-deadly. He had never looked at you with such animosity before. It caused a pang of pain to shoot through your heart.

Just how much did you not know about this man?

"Argh! Fuckin' 'ell!"

He winced, eyes screwing shut and expression loosening up into one you would describe as more vulnerable than before.

Vulnerable was something you were around him, not the other way around. It felt strange. It felt wrong.

"You gonna let me in or have me fuckin' bleed out 'ere, love?"

"Shit."

Similarly to how he aided you back when you last saw each other - you looped one of his arms around your neck, the cold metal of his rings sending familiar, pleasant shivers down your spine, and helped carry him inside by shifting a majority of his weight onto you. It was almost a little funny how the role reversal came into play. If you were delusional, you might have even called it fate.

Lucky you weren't delusional.

"Jesus-fuckin'-christ," he cussed, anger as prevalent as ever while you slowly laid him down on the soft, plush couch, "can't believe that fucking bastard got me."

The blood was still seeping through his wound, not quite gushing out but certainly leaving an impression on your poor couch.

The wound was huge and utterly ugly. For a moment, you wondered what it would feel like if you had obtained it.

Your heartbeat picked up its pace. Perhaps you shouldn't have imagined that.

"What the fuck? What the fuck?!"

His pained expression wasn't making things any better— just what on Earth did he get himself into?!

"Holy shit! I should call Lemon at least, right?!"

"He's busy."

"He's busy?!" You stared at him, utterly bewildered, "what on earth could he be doing that stops him from helping out his injured brother?!"

He didn't respond, only choosing to grunt as he shifted in his seat.

It was stupid - utterly stupid - that he thought it was perfectly fine to pull up to your house in the middle of the night, crimson seeping out his stomach like a luscious waterfall only seen in fantasy movies, knock on your door, and stumble into your house while denying you the right to call the ambulance - the very organisation that was made to deal with these types of messes!

"Tan, do you know how fucked up this is?!"

He didn't respond again. Whether or not it was on purpose, you were unsure of. That wound was probably hindering his ability to speak but, knowing him, he also probably didn't wish to either.

"Fuck. Okay, okay—" you took in a deep breath through your nose, "—okay. Lemme just..."

Your knees thudded against the ground and your hands reached out, fingertips curling around his now-red, linen shirt.

"How did you even get so hurt in the first place?"

It had been an off-handed comment, whispered as such. You weren't expecting an answer so - when his hand shot to your own and clenched it with such strength, you had gasped and winced - to say that you were surprised would be an understatement.

His grip loosened not long after and your eyes trailed from his wound to his face, making contact with the softened hues that were almost laced in... desperation?

"Love, no."

At first, you thought he was talking about treating his wound - but that didn't make sense. If he didn't want you to treat his wound - to help him - he wouldn't have come to your house in the first place.

No, he must've been talking about your question. Of course he wouldn't want you to know how it happened. What did you expect?

"Fine," you lamented, "I won't pry. Just... let me help you."

He paused for a moment, as if letting the thought load, before ultimately letting go of your hand and leaning back - another wince making its way onto his face.

You took that as a sign to lift his shirt - and boy was it a sight to see.

Luckily, there didn't seem to be any green so it was most likely not infected, meaning he still had a shot to live. The wound was large but you were no medical expert, you had no clue whether or not he could die from it and, quite frankly, you didn't wish to find out.

"What's the ma'er, love? Can't handle a bi' of blood?"

How he had the capacity to be his snarky self while this injured was beyond you.

"No, I've just never seen such..." you trailed off, searching for the word, "...copious amounts of it."

"Ya get used to it after awhile."

Ha, so this wasn't new, was it? Made sense, you were freaking out more than he was and he was the one with the excruciating wound.

"How do I...? How do I treat it?"

He rose a brow. "You don't know how to treat a wound?"

"Hey, I got a degree in law, not medicine."

He grunted, shifting up a little. "D'you have a first-aid kit on ya?"

"Never had the need for one. I have bandages though?"

"No use if the wound i'n't clean." He sighed. "What about alcohol?"

You rose a skeptical brow.

"Not for me— well, it is for me but not in the way you think." He then gave you a pointed look. "I know you have alcohol on ya, you've always 'ad a problem with it."

Perhaps the timing was inappropriate but, you could feel your stomach flutter at the prospect that he remembered such a trait about you.

"Yeah, I've got some in the kitchen."

He nodded and you pushed yourself back onto your feet, gaze trained onto the entrance of your kitchen.

"Stay here."

"Yeah, well, I'm not fuckin' goin' anywhere, am I?"

"Really? Because with how you've been gone for the past few weeks, I'm inclined to believe that - even with a wound like that - you would get up and leave as soon as I turn my back on you."

His jaw stiffened and you could see it; you could see the urge to talk resting on his tongue. But - like always - he refrained from saying another word.

How disappointing. But then again, not unexpected.

You trudged to the kitchen, bare feet making contact with the cold ground as you stepped upon the white tiles that had slowly gone grey as the years went by, monotonous just like your life once was before you had the pleasure of meeting Tan. You couldn't exactly say you wished to go back to it.

Every day you would wake up, get ready, go to work, go home, then go out. Each time looking for a new guy to latch onto. The colours of your world back then were different to now, you couldn't say they were more vibrant or any less dazzling but you could say they were different. Back when you weren't hung up on a guy who had the balls to show up to your door at midnight with a huge, gaping wound in his stomach.

You tugged yourself away from your thoughts to retrieve the large, glass bottle resting at your top cabinet; fingers lacing around the rim with a certain level of experience only seen in an alcoholic. Many would describe you as one. You would too.

"Alright," you spoke, making your way back towards the male, "I've got it. Now what?"

"What d'you think? Pour it over the wound."

You could go without the snark.

With a roll of your eyes and a small huff, you crouched back down beside him, slowly lifting his shirt and dark waistcoat to once more observe the injury. That thing was really horrible to look at.

As you took the sight in again, his gaze trailed to your phone, still open with the texts you exchanged displayed clearly on the screen, and he rose a brow.

"'Jerk'? You havin' a laugh, love?"

"Yeah. And it's a damn good one too."

He just rolled his eyes.

"I'm serious, Tan. You left me hanging for weeks - almost a month - and then you come knocking on my door at midnight with blood all over you? What the fuck do you want from me?"

"Nothin', I don't—" he winced and let out a grunt as you poured the liquid onto the hole, "—don't want nothin'."

You didn't believe him. Not for a second.

"Really?"

"Look, dahlin', I really don't wanna do this right now."

"Too bad—" you gave him a pointed look, "—because we're doing this. Right here. Right now."

"I just said I don't wanna fuckin' do this."

"Yeah? And I don't give a fuck what you want right now."

"Love— argh! Fuck!— please."

"No, I—"

"Fuckin' 'ell," he cut you off, venom practically hissed through gritted teeth, "are you deaf or some'n? Just close your bloody mouth."

The room fell into dead silence. Not a word was spoken, not a chirp in the air - just the incessant ticking sounds of your clock echoing in the background, reminding you that - though you were going through the most frustrating thing right now - time still moved regardless. No one cared.

Once again, like the street lamps had back when you were in his car, your lights coated him in that warm blanket of orange. You just wanted to scream at them for being so misleading, for trying to trick your mind into thinking this man was anything but cold and ruthless.

Ha, you were going mad. Wanting to yell at an inanimate object? As if.

You stood abruptly, walking over to a nearby shelf to slide open another cabinet with a roll of gauze inside before silently returning to the couch - sight set on covering his wound. You may have just had an argument, but you were no monster.

Then, he spoke again.

"You changed up the house a bit since I last came."

'Oh, is that so?' you wanted to say, 'who gives a fuck?'

His attempt at a conversation was pathetic. He was pathetic.

'You're pathetic.' you longed to tell him.

But instead, you opted to muttering, albeit a little bitterly, "wanted to spruce the place up a little."

'Anything to distract me from you.'

"It's nice." He hummed before going silent.

Your nails then dug into the edge of the gauze, pulling and prodding at it until a corner gave way before you were able to further force it apart.

"Sit up. Away from the armrest." You muttered.

He did so without question or objection.

You then reached around his body - both arms mere centimetres away from embracing his abdomen; breath fanning against his toned chest and nose barely grazing his skin - before sticking the gauze onto his back and winding it around to his front.

"Ya go'a do it a li'le harder than that, love."

You frowned before tugging, with way more force than necessary, and adding, "this hard enough for ya?"

His wince made way for a small, fleeting feeling of satisfaction to blossom in your chest. A small bit of revenge for the acres of pain he had caused you these past couple of weeks.

Served him right.

You didn't say a word when you were done, didn't even give a snide look that would blatantly tell him what you were thinking. Just pulled away, one hand clenching tightly around the gauze, one hand reaching out for your phone.

He only spoke again when you reached the door frame, hand placed on it in the same position as his once was, back facing him and eyes trained on your staircase.

"For what it's worth, love, I really am sorry."

Yeah. You were too.

#tangerine #bullet train #tangerine x reader #tangerine bullet train #x female reader #x reader #tangerine x you #tangerine x y/n #bullet train fanfic

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thefrogdalorian · 4 months

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The Best of Both Worlds

Din Djarin x Female Reader Modern!AU

Summary: When a new Star Wars TV show called The Mandalorian premiered, you found yourself completely enamoured with the titular character. Enjoyment of watching the lone bounty hunter travel through the galaxy quickly turned to obsession. There was just something about the show that captured your imagination. Now, you spend much of your free time — when you're not working a fast-paced, minimum wage and incredibly stressful job at a prestigious London Museum— speaking to your online friends about your love for the show. There's just one thing... Despite how much you love The Mandalorian, no one knows the identity of the man behind the helmet... either in the show, or in real life. You only know him as Mando. No one has ever seen his face, no one knows his name. Even after the countless hours of speculation from fans online, which even you have occasionally participated in, no one is any the wiser to the identity of the mysterious man who wears the shiny armour. Surely, given the depth of your love for the show, you'd recognise if the man who you spend so much time obsessing over online was to ever cross paths with you. Right?

Content Warnings: Reader is AFAB, uses she/her pronouns and in her mid 20s. Age gap between her and Din is noted but not really central to the story. Grogu is human, hints of past trauma/child abuse before Din adopted him are mentioned but not described in detail. Some mature scenes later on in the fic but not explicit smut... because I just cannot write x reader smut! Author's Note: SO very excited to finally share this fic! Thank you to the lovely @suresnips for being my beta. I really appreciate you ♡ This baby was originally my NaNoWriMo 2023 project and was inspired by this post from @toxic-seduction that I saw one evening and couldn't stop thinking about! POVs will alternate chapter to chapter from Din to reader. It was fun to write that way! Set in London for a few reasons: partly because I love the movie Notting Hill and it has some of those vibes (if you squint), also, the village where Din lives is based on Elstree Studios just outside London, where the OT was filmed and ultimately because NO WAY was I writing a modern!AU set in the states, it would've been painfully obvious a Brit wrote it. While there are lots of references to places in London, I don't live there so it might not be truly accurate (Londoners don't come for me). Also, to be political for a sec, reader works at the British Museum and I hate that institution. This was actually the line of work I was interested in when I was at Uni but for many different reasons I did not pursue it. However, it works for the plot of this story and as you'll see, she doesn't exactly love it either and goes on a few rants. Just wanted to make that clear that her job there is not an endorsement of it or anything. I can't stand them or their historical apologist bs and I wish we would give back all the things we stole (including the Parthenon Marbles)! Finally, it was incredibly important to me that the actor behind Mando in this fic clearly be the fictional character of Din Djarin rather than the real person Pedro Pascal, because rpf is not my jam! I hope I did that pretty well but just wanted to warn that if you're expecting me to use Din as some kind of way to write a Pedro fic, this won't be for you! Okay, I'll shut up now! This fic is fully written, just needs editing so hopefully I'll get a couple of chapters up each week, but life happens. I'm very proud of this one and I really hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! Also if you would like to be added to my taglist for this fic, please let me know! Happy reading ♡

❁ My Masterlist ❁ Read on AO3 ❁

Why Does It Always Rain On Me? [Reader POV]: After a dreadful day which saw you drenched by a rainstorm after leaving a hectic day at work, you reflect on your love for Mando and upcoming excitement for the sci-fi convention you will soon be attending with your internet best friend.

He Is My Only Priority [Din's Pov]: The character of The Mandalorian is known and loved by millions. But there is another, much softer side to the man who portrays him that Din Djarin is determined to keep hidden from the world, despite the challenges that presents for him and his beloved son, Grogu.

This Is Why (I Don't Leave The House) [Reader's POV]: Your internet bestie arrives in preparation for the Star Wars convention you will attend together. Everything is set for the greatest weekend of your life! Until you arrive at the con and find yourself overwhelmed by all the crowds and noise. At least you have numerous incredibly realistic Mando cosplays to distract you from how stressed you feel, and there's one in particular which is uncannily accurate...

Curiosity Killed The Cat [Din's POV]: Despite his reservations and against his better instincts, Din heads to a Star Wars convention that he was invited to. Although he fears that his cover will be blown, curiosity gets the best of Din and he can't resist attending a panel. But Din doesn't exactly find the answers he was looking for. Instead, he finds something far more precious. Something that he would never have expected...

He's So Tall (And Handsome As Hell) [Reader's POV]: Being back in the real world and returning to work after an incredible weekend at the convention where you had so many fun experiences is taking its toll on you. The thought of collapsing on your couch in front of The Mandalorian is the only thing keeping you going. However, the universe has other plans for you. News of an out-of-hours tour for a private client that you are asked to lead almost sends you over the edge, but when you finally meet the man, he is the opposite of what you were expecting. Weirdly, he seems familiar...

With A Little Help From My Friends [Din's POV]: Din returns to the set of The Mandalorian to begin filming a new season. Despite his experience and capability, he finds that he struggles to focus as his thoughts remain firmly fixed on a certain someone...

You're The Sunflower [Reader's POV]: Despite feeling certain that you'll never see the ridiculously handsome man you gave a tour of the museum to, a special delivery is about to change everything...

Your Face Hung Up High In The Gallery [Din's POV]: After a difficult few days of filming The Mandalorian, Din is excited to spend time with you as he finally takes you on your first proper date...

Have I Known You Twenty Seconds or Twenty Years? - (Reader's POV): Despite a messy evening which led to you waking up in an opulent hotel which you have no memory of falling asleep in, memories of kind brown eyes and breathless kisses soon come flooding back to soothe your soul. Your relationship deepens as the two of you spending time together whenever your busy schedules allow. But one night, a turn of events causes you - despite Din's reassurances - to wonder if everything you have been working so hard to build together has just come crashing down around you...

There's A War Inside Of Me - [Din's POV]: The realities of the secret he is keeping from you begin to weigh heavily on Din's mind and he seeks advice from a certain curly haired co-star on what his next move should be. Things don't go exactly according to plan, not least because of the typically awful English weather...

It Could Be Love, We Could Be The Way Forward - [Reader's POV]: With your respective busy jobs keeping you and Din apart, a mystery date after a hectic day at work is exactly what you needed.

The Calm - [Din's POV]: When filming overruns and conspires to keep Din from the fun weekend he planned for you, he agonises over his decision. Fortunately, he manages to salvage the weekend, even after a calamity involving a rowboat...

P.S. - I tried to be inclusive for all body types and skin tones in this fic, but if I missed something, I do apologise. If you do spot something that takes you out of the fic, I am more than happy for constructive criticism as I wouldn't want anyone to be excluded on those grounds. I am always trying to do better and would love to know where I went wrong so I can improve and be more aware of these things going forward, so I would appreciate it if you could let me know if you do spot anything. Thank you so much! ♡

#my fics #tbobw #din djarin fic #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x reader #mando x reader #din djarin #pedro pascal characters #the mandalorian fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro boys

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ak-vintage · 17 days

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Quarry - Chapter 1

Pairing: Din Djarin (The Mandalorian) x f!reader

Summary: Din Djarin is on what he expects to be his last bounty hunt for Greef Karga. After all, Nevarro is swiftly moving away from its previous reputation as a Guild member’s paradise, and Din has more important concerns now, like finding a Jedi to train his mysterious foundling. However, after capturing a wanted starship engineer who would rather go anywhere other than “home,” the Mandalorian is forced to reassess his priorities.

Your taste of freedom had been brief but glorious. Now you are a prisoner of the most infamous bounty hunter in the Outer Rim – it’s only a matter of time before he turns you in. There isn’t much you would not do to keep from being sent home, but as you find yourself growing closer to your captor and his strange little companion, you start to wonder whether escape is really what you want.

Set after Chapter 13: The Jedi but before Chapter 14: The Tragedy.

Chapter Tags & Warnings: Reader is Mando's bounty, minor peril, threats of violence, second-person POV, no use of Y/N, minimal descriptors of reader character

Series Masterlist | Read on AO3

It was over.

Countless rotations it had taken you to plan your escape. Stolen hours when you were meant to be elbows deep in the bowels of a customer’s starship had instead been spent discretely stashing supplies in hidden corners of the hangar. Endless nights and scores of hours of sleep had been sacrificed to mulling over your options as you lay in your bunk, devising one strategy after another. You would only get one chance. When your moment came, you knew you couldn’t let it pass you by.

And you hadn’t. You had done it. A satchel full of ration packs, a canteen, and the clothes on your back had been all you had to your name, but you had managed to stow away aboard a freighter, wedged into the maintenance access crawlspace near one of the escape pods. Forty-eight hours you spent jammed between the bulkheads, breathing as quietly as you could manage and not daring to move any more than was needed to open and delicately sip from your canteen. When you felt the tell-tale jolt of the ship dropping out of hyperspace, the wave of relief that passed over you had made you nearly faint.

That had been over a month ago according to this planet’s local calendar. In that time, you had found yourself a bed at a local hostel. You had landed a job at a cantina clearing tables – perhaps not the best use of your skillset, but it paid, and to say you needed credits would be an understatement. You had even managed to save enough money to replace the pair of work boots you had been wearing for nearly a decade and had taped back together more times than you could count.

Freedom agreed with you. It was the easiest you had breathed, the soundest you had slept, since you were a child.

And now it was over. It had all been for nothing.

The bounty puck on the bar hummed quietly as it projected your image into the air above it, the blue hologram flickering, your name printed in red below your expressionless face.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see the man who had presented you with the puck reach into his utility belt and pull out a tracking fob. The red beacon was blinking rapidly as he pointed it at you, the incessant beeping nearly inaudible over the sounds of the cantina. But even as he stood there, clearly expecting some kind of response from you, all you could do was stare at your own face in the hologram. You could hear the blood rushing in your ears, could feel your hands start to tremble uncontrollably. This couldn’t be how it ended. You had worked so hard –

“I said, this is you?”

You started, wrenching your eyes from the buzzing bounty puck to the man before you. He was tall, broad, and clearly humanoid, and he was clad head to toe in gleaming beskar armor, his face hidden behind a helmet with a distinctive black, T-shaped visor. Even in your brief survey of his appearance, you could see no less than four weapons stashed across his body. A set of binder restraints was clipped to his belt.

You gulped audibly. A Mandalorian. They had sent a Mandalorian after you.

There was only one thing you could do. You had to try to run.

In the same instant this occurred to you, it seemed that the Mandalorian had a similar thought.

“It will be worse for you if you try to escape,” he said, his voice low and modulated through the vocoder in his helmet. He made a movement as if to reach for the binders. “Best if you come quietly.”

Not kriffing likely.

Before you could consider it further, you spun around, grabbed ahold of a rung on the closest liquor shelf behind the bar, and threw your weight back. The heavy steel shelf tipped precariously and then, with an incredible crash, fell forward. You dodged out of the way just in time to avoid the shower of shattering liquor bottles, more than one breaking on the helmet and pauldrons of the bounty hunter before you.

“Dank farrik,” you heard him curse, but you didn’t stay long enough to see how he fared. Instead, you leaped over the bar and bolted toward the rear exit.

You had never been much of a runner, but you were nimble, and this was your cantina. It was just after shift change at the local lommite mine, which meant that the place was packed with patrons of all species dressed in bulky safety gear and carrying dusty equipment packs that made it difficult to navigate between the tables. Ducking and weaving through the crowd, it took you only a moment to reach the door.

You were tempted to glance over your shoulder as the exit door slid open, but the sound of shouting and arguing behind you was enough to tell you that you were being pursued. Instead, you took off running down the back alleyway.

There was no way you were going to outrun him. You had never encountered a Mandalorian personally, but you had heard enough stories to know that they were fierce hunters – clever, resourceful, and at the peak of physical fitness. Your only hope would be to lose him in the maze of buildings that made up this part of town. This area was densely populated, the buildings packed in close together and laid out in such a way that it was clear that very little planning had gone into the design of the neighborhood.

Take him on a wild bantha chase, you thought, your breath starting to come short in your chest, your legs starting to ache. Take turns at random, change levels when you can, try to make it back to the hostel. Get your pack. Head to the nearest space depot. Get off planet. Start again.

You could do it. You could start again. This didn’t have to be the end of your freedom.

You could hear heavy footsteps behind you.

He was faster than you. He was closing in.

Nearly skidding into a wall, you threw yourself down the next alley, pushing your arms and legs to pump as hard they could. You were getting out of the mining district and into the market district; stalls and carts began to pop up along the walls as you continued to run. You dodged them with ease, but a dozen yards behind you, you could hear chaos erupt as beskar crashed unceremoniously through wood and fabric. If you hadn’t been so out of breath, you would have laughed.

Your joy, however, was short-lived.

As you came careening around the next corner, you found yourself inches away from a moving produce cart being pulled by a rolo droid. You had come in too fast – by the time you saw it, there was no way to stop.

In an instant, you slammed bodily into the cart, bending over the side and flipping headfirst into the pile of what appeared to be some kind of vegetable. The rolo droid squealed in protest, beeping and whirring and spinning in place, but you couldn’t be bothered trying to apologize.

The impact had knocked the wind out of your lungs – you gasped ineffectually, clutching your ribs as you attempted to work up the strength to fling yourself out of the bed of the cart. Every second spent trying to catch your breath was another second for your pursuer to close the distance between you. But it didn’t matter in the end – you weren’t fast enough. The moment you managed to get your arms under you, you heard a faint fwip cut through the air, and a grappling line wrapped snuggly around your leg.

A sharp tug, and you were yanked from the cart and onto the ground. Another, and you began to skid down the coarse pavement of the alley floor. Your arms flew out, scrabbling against the stones, but it was no use. Before you could figure out which way was up, the heavily armored figure of the Mandalorian bounty hunter was hovering over you, the setting sun glinting harshly off his beskar helmet. The grappling line was retreating into his vambrace.

Wordlessly, he stepped forward, planting his boot on the line near where it wrapped around you, effectively trapping you at his feet. You could do nothing but lay gasping on the ground, glaring poisonously at his helmet in what you hoped was the direction of his eyes.

“Put on the binders, or I’ll do it for you,” he said, unhooking them from his belt and tossing them onto your heaving stomach. Bitterness burned in your gut at the sound of his modulated voice. He didn’t even sound like the chase had taxed him at all; he was completely unphased. “And I won’t be gentle,” he added.

You swallowed hard. It really was over.

After a moment of silence, you clasped the binder cuffs around your wrists – one then the other. They glowed blue against your skin, tight, cold, and heavy.

The Mandalorian reached down then and wrapped his leather gloved hand around the connector in the center of the binders. With what appeared to be very little effort, he hauled you to your feet. He permitted you a moment to steady yourself before tugging once more on the grappling wire still around your leg. It slid limply away, and he deftly tied the end around the binders, creating a makeshift leash.

“Let’s go,” he muttered. And with a firm pull on the wire, he set off down the alley, you trailing reluctantly along behind him.

___

As you expected, he led you to the yards on the other side of town, specifically the ones intended for short-term docking. He stopped only once along the way, grabbing several skewers of cooked meat from a street vendor near the terminal. For a wild moment, you expected him to offer you one, but instead he took half of the skewers and stuck them into the small brown satchel he wore across his body. He kept the remainder in his hand, but made no move to eat them, which you found odd.

Had you been in a quieter part of town, you might have heard a wet swallowing sound and a high-pitched gurgle of approval coming from the vicinity of that satchel. As it was, however, you simply continued to follow your captor in silence.

The docking yard was as you remembered it – congested and impossibly loud. Species of all varieties milled about, standing in line to board their transporters, searching for their luggage on long conveyor belts, chasing small children, and arguing with the ticket and security droids that lined the terminal. It had been easy to blend into the chaos when you arrived. No one had batted an eye at the sight of your body slipping awkwardly out of a maintenance port on the underbelly of freighter. Now that you had returned, however, you couldn’t help but feel as though the crowd hushed as you passed. Perhaps it was simply the humiliation of being dragged through the throng on the end of a bounty hunter’s leash like a charhound, but you were certain that you caught more than one judgment-filled gaze as you passed.

The Mandalorian led you through the crush of people with confidence. It didn’t take long for you to realize that his ship must have been parked further down the terminal, for as you continued following behind him, the crowd began to thin, the massive ships designed for transporting large numbers of people falling away and being replaced with smaller personal transport vessels. It wasn’t until your eyes landed on a pre-Imperial patrol gunship that had clearly seen better days that you realized that this was where you were headed.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you muttered under your breath, taking in the patchwork hull, the fading paint job, the countless dents, the blaster marks… You weren’t entirely certain of the specific make, but you knew it fell into the ST-70 class of assault ships. Then again, you wondered, did it matter what it was if it looked ready to fall out of the sky at the slightest provocation?

The Mandalorian glanced sharply at you over his shoulder, and your heart jumped into your throat. Perhaps it wasn’t the best idea to talk smack about your captor’s ship.

Luckily, you were saved from having to answer for that comment by the sound of a small, blue Rodian dressed in a dock worker’s uniform calling out in Huttese.

“Uba bata shado, murishani,” he said, nodding to the bounty hunter in greeting. You’re back quickly, bounty hunter. Or at least, that is what you thought he said. Your Huttese had always been rather rudimentary.

Your escort pulled up short at this, his head tilted and his shoulders stiff.

“Well, I’m good at my job,” he said, a hint of hesitance in his voice, as though unsure how to respond.

The Rodian replied, once again in Huttese, but there was enough in that sentence that you didn’t understand that you refused to even attempt to translate it. The Mandalorian, however, had no such issues.

“That’s ridiculous. I’ve been docked here less than three hours. I’m not paying you for the whole day.” His deep, raspy voice buzzed through his vocoder. The revelation left a sick feeling in the pit of your stomach. Less than three hours. Less than three hours it had taken him to find you, even in a city of this size. A part of you wondered if that was more of a reflection on his skill as a bounty hunter, or if perhaps it said something about your skill as a fugitive.

Oblivious to your distress, the two went back and forth for a few moments, the dock worker in Huttese, the bounty hunter in Basic.

After a time of seemingly no progress, the latter said decisively, “I’ll pay for a half day, but no more.” He took a step into the Rodian’s space, dragging you stumbling behind him. The reptilian made an offended noise, clearly about to continue to protest, but he was stopped short by the Mandalorian swiping aside his cape and hovering his hand threateningly over his holstered blaster. “I think that’s more than reasonable, don’t you?”

A beat of silence passed as you glanced between your captor and the dock worker. He appeared to be weighing the offer and the potential risk of continuing to argue, but before long, the tension left his body, and he extended his hand toward the Mandalorian in resignation. “Okey-okey. Wamma tonka.”

The bounty hunter nodded once and produced what appeared to be some denomination of New Republic credit from his pocket. Dropping it into the Rodian’s waiting hand, he gave a tug to your grappling line and pulled you toward the shabby gunship.

___

“Tell me, are you going to attempt to run again?”

It was the first thing the Mandalorian had said to you since he had taken you captive. It had taken little time for the two of you to board his ship once he resolved the issue with the dock worker, and he had just managed to pull up the exit ramp and close the blast doors. Interestingly, he had also stashed his few remaining meat skewers from the street vendor in what appeared to be a chilled rations locker that sank into the port-side wall.

Now, he stared intently at you, his hands on his hips and his helmet cocked at an angle, as though contemplating what to do with you next. You were still attached to his grappling wire by your binder restraints, though he admittedly had given you a bit more slack in the line once you were securely locked up in the belly of the ST-70.

You mimicked his stance as best as you could while still bound at the wrists and attempted to project a confidence you weren’t sure that you truly felt.

“What do you think?” you asked, your voice as even and neutral as you could make it.

He seemed to consider the question for a moment before replying, “I think you’ve already put up more of a fight than I expected.”

A thrill shot through you at that – a quick zing of pride that even though you hardly seemed to have been much of a challenge for him, you still had managed to subvert his expectations of you. A smirk tugged at the corner of your lips. “Then I think you have your answer.”

It was the truth, and you knew that he knew it, too. If given the opportunity, you would try to run again. You had fought and planned for too long to give up on your freedom this easily.

Something like a grunt of displeasure sounded through his modulator, and suddenly his posture was less relaxed, becoming straighter and more intimidating. “Fine,” he rasped.

With a sharp yank on the grappling wire, he tugged you toward him, knocking you off balance, and grasped firmly onto your shoulders.

“Hey, what’re you – ”

As the question started to leave your lips, your eyes landed on the padded recess in the starboard-side wall. You didn’t know how you had missed it when you first entered the ship. It was just deep enough for most full-grown bipedal species to stand inside. Several color-coded gas canisters lined the edges of the recess, dispenser funnels pointed inward.

“No,” you whispered, the breath suddenly stolen from your lungs.

A mobile carbonite freezing unit. You had only seen a handful of ships in your lifetime equipped with one. He was going to freeze you.

“Oh, kriff – no, no, no, wait, you can’t – ” Panic rose in your chest, threatening to suffocate you even before the pressurized gases could manage to surround you. Immediately, you began to struggle against his grasp – twisting and throwing your weight, beating your bound fists against his hard, shining breastplate.

Silently, mercilessly, almost easily, the Mandalorian wrestled you into the unit and punched the activation controls.

Your eyes slammed shut and a scream caught in your throat as ice-cold gas shot from the canisters nearest your feet. And then –

…nothing.

A beat passed. Silence. No carbonite panels. No freezing gases designed to hold you in place, in stasis, until someone decided to free you. There was just…nothing.

You gasped, your eyes flying open and quickly scanning your surroundings. A shrill beeping sound came from a control panel somewhere near your head.

“W-what happened?” you stammered, a wave of knee-weakening relief threatening to overtake you. “Why did it stop?”

“Damn it,” your jailer muttered. One hand came up to bear down against your sternum, keeping you pressed firmly back against the padded chamber. The other was aggressively thumbing at the protesting control panel.

A breathless, slightly unhinged laugh bubbled up in your throat. “It’s malfunctioning, isn’t it? Your unit’s broken.” Perhaps your luck hadn’t run out entirely.

“Shut up.” His voice was tight, his words terse.

That wild laugh overflowed for a moment, pressing your chest into his gloved hand.

“Oh no,” you huffed in mock sympathy. “Looks like you’re stuck with me, buddy.”

The bounty hunter cursed again under his breath, slamming his fist into the carbonite unit’s control panel one last time. “For now,” he growled.

“Now what are you going to do with me?” you asked breathlessly. A strange feeling of victory continued to linger in your chest. It hadn’t been you that had caused the malfunction, of course, but you couldn’t help but feel as though somehow the points for this particular encounter should go to you. After all, the son of a mudscuffer wouldn’t be able to get rid of you so easily now.

He seemed to take a moment to deliberate, but then he was pulling you back out of the recessed chamber and instead tugging you further into the ship’s cargo hold. “Come on,” he grunted. “You’ll say here until I can get the carbonite unit repaired.”

Pressing firmly on the tops of your shoulders, he forced you to lower yourself onto the deck plating, sitting you against the wall. He had your binder cuffs separated with a few deft movements, but quicker than you could react, he was reattaching them, this time so that they looped around the base of a ladder that appeared to go to the second floor of the ship.

“And uh…what exactly am I supposed to do in the meantime?” you asked incredulously. He couldn’t really expect you to sit on the cold, unforgiving metal floor with your arms hanging awkwardly from this ladder, could he? Even if he took you right back to where you had run away from, that was a two-day journey through hyperspace. You would surely lose circulation in your limbs by then.

The Mandalorian was less than sympathetic. “Just keep quiet, and don’t bother trying to break out of that binder – you’ll break your wrists before those cuffs release. Otherwise, I don’t really care.”

“Got it, I’ll keep that in mind,” you replied. Your tone dripped with sarcasm.

“Stay put,” he reiterated, jabbing a finger at you as though he were scolding a small child.

You rolled your eyes as you watched him grasp onto the sides of the ladder, one boot stepping up onto the lowest rung. However, before he could begin to climb up to what you assumed was the cockpit, you heard a strange sound coming from somewhere on his person.

A giggle, a high-pitched, gurgling babble – like the coo of a baby.

This seemed to startle the bounty hunter, as he immediately dropped his grip on the ladder and glanced down at the brown satchel strung across his body. Your gaze followed his just in time enough to see a tiny, green, three-fingered hand wave out of the satchel before he shoved it back down. He quickly wrapped his cape around his body to conceal his torso and in doing so, the bag.

“Wait – what was that?” you demanded. He couldn’t be carrying a baby in that satchel…could he?

His only reply was a weary sigh, and before you could repeat yourself, he was up the ladder and out of sight.

___

The next several minutes following the Mandalorian’s hurried departure were almost perfectly silent. You assumed you would be taking off soon, but in the meantime, while you were still on solid ground, you couldn’t help but take a few moments to test your restraints. There would be no point once you were in the air – where exactly would you escape to, once you were in the expanse of space?

You first tried to brace the binder cuffs against the side of the ladder, tugging down as hard as you dared with both hands against the center connector. Perhaps you could force the two cuff units to separate from each other. No success, though this didn’t really surprise you – the durasteel was nearly indestructible. It would take someone a great deal stronger than you to break them.

Your next attempt was simply to try wiggling a hand out of one. It quickly became very clear that that wasn’t going to happen either. Luckily, the insides of the cuffs were lined with padding, designed to mold tightly to the form of the prisoner regardless of their size without wounding them. If they hadn’t been cushioned at all, you may have done as the bounty hunter had suggested and broken your wrist. No matter how you twisted or pulled, your hand simply would not contort into a shape small enough to slip through the cuff without injury. In fact, you would probably have bruises later from the attempt.

Cursing softly under your breath, you took a moment to survey your surroundings as you contemplated your next move. It would be too much to ask for a toolkit of some sort to be sitting around somewhere you could reach. Small tech like this binder didn’t really fall within your expertise, but you were reasonably certain that given enough time and the right equipment, you could override the release code mechanism and remove them that way. However, judging from your current predicament, the likelihood of those conditions being met was less than zero.

Just as you resigned yourself to being tied to this ladder for a bit longer, the deck plating below you started to vibrate, and the distant roaring of the gunship’s engines turning over filled your ears. You were taking off.

You braced yourself as best as you could, folding your legs up to plant your feet flat against the floor and push your torso back against the wall. Given the ship’s apparent age, you could only assume the ascent through the atmosphere would be a bumpy one, and it wasn’t as though there was any safety gear for passengers in the cargo hold. However, to your great surprise, either the Mandalorian was an exceptional pilot or the ship was sturdier than she looked. The rise through the atmosphere featured minimal turbulence, and by the time you could feel the artificial gravity and life support systems activate, there was nothing but the constant, low-frequency vibration of the engines to indicate that you were anywhere other than solid land.

A handful of minutes passed, and then you felt a swooping sensation behind your navel as your body was suddenly, briefly tugged toward the rear of the ship.

You had jumped to hyperspace.

After that, the silence returned.

In that way, this wasn’t much different than your last experience with space travel. You had been alone, cramped, uncomfortable, and frightened, with nothing but your own thoughts to keep you company, and surrounded by an almost oppressive quiet. Though you supposed you could acknowledge the improvement in the view. Rather than staring directly at the anonymous gray hull of an escape pod, this time your eyes had a whole cargo hold to explore.

Really, there wasn’t much to see. The Mandalorian seemed to run quite a bare-bones operation. To your right appeared to be most of the storage space on the ship. A few wall panels that likely pulled out when pressed, as the cooler locker had when you first boarded, a stack of gray cargo bins that had slid to the back of the hold during the hyperspace jump, and, of course, the dreaded mobile carbonite freezing unit in the starboard wall. You suppressed a chill and sent a brief thank-you into the universe that you hadn’t been subjected to that.

Directly across from where you sat tied to the ladder was a large silver cabinet, the contents of which you could only guess at. All you knew was that it must have been important, as it took up the most amount of space in the hold by far and appeared to be under a coded lock.

Finally, to your left, fully open and exposed to the rest of the room, was a somewhat grimy multi-species vacuum ship head as well as an alcove where a thin, bare bunk had been tucked away. You balked at the apparent lack of a full refresher, or at the very least a sonic shower. Did this man who spent all his time wrapped head-to-toe in armor (which you had noticed was also layered on top of a padded flight suit) really not have a way to get clean on his own ship? Silently you hoped you would never get close enough to him to experience the consequences of that choice.

Just as you were starting to contemplate the humiliating eventuality of needing to use that exposed ship head, the sound of footsteps could be heard echoing off the deck plating above you. A distant hiss sounded, like the sliding of a blast door, and in the next moment, the Mandalorian was climbing back down the ladder.

“Didn’t expect to see you again so soon,” you said, feeling your eyebrows raise as you looked up at him.

At first, he didn’t respond. Instead, he gave you a once-over when he reached the bottom, clearly assessing whether you had attempted to escape. Finding you precisely where he had left you seemed to satisfy him, and he nodded once in your direction before making his way back over to the cooler locker he had opened earlier. Opening it, he retrieved the remaining meat skewers from the street vendor as well a couple of assorted ration bars.

For a moment, you thought he might go right back up the ladder without saying a word to you. However, once he kicked the cooler locker closed, he reached out and passed one of the ration bars into your bound hand. “Here,” he said, the voice floating through his helmet low and a touch raspy. “Thought you might be hungry.”

“Oh.” Blatant surprise colored your tone before you were able to school your expression. “Thank you.”

His helmet tipped in acknowledgement, but he said nothing.

A beat of silence passed, almost as though he was waiting on you to say more. When you didn’t, he took a few steps back toward the ladder, readying himself to climb back up into the cockpit.

“Wait,” you blurted. You had to know – before he hid himself away again, you had to ask, “Are you taking me back? Back to Chardaan?”

The bounty hunter paused, seeming somewhat taken aback by your question. He backed away from the ladder, instead moving across from you to lean back against that large silver cabinet you had noted earlier. Cocking his head to the side, he considered you for a moment, then replied, “No.”

Your eyes widened in surprise. “No?” you echoed.

“You were the first of my bounties on this hunt. I’ll need to collect the others before I can return to my guild agent and make the exchange,” he explained. “He’ll be the one to ensure you make it back where you came from.”

A bolt of relief shot through you at this revelation. You still had time. He wasn’t taking you straight back there. Your freedom hadn’t entirely abandoned you. There is still a chance…

“How many more are you after?” you asked, struggling to keep your voice neutral.

The bounty hunter paused, seeming to mull over how much he wanted to share. After a minute, he said, “Six.”

In spite of the careful control you were trying to exert over your facial expressions, your jaw dropped at the number. You had never heard of a Bounty Hunters’ Guild member carrying more than four pucks at a time. “That feels like a lot all at once.”

He shrugged, the gesture emphasized by his shining beskar pauldrons. “I’ve been working with this agent a long time, and it’s going to be a while before I’m able to pick up more work. Plus, this lot includes a few lower-level quarries. Shouldn’t be much of a challenge.”

“‘Lower-level quarries’?” you repeated. “What, you mean like me?”

“Yes. Like you,” he replied. You could swear his modulated voice sounded smug, though perhaps you were projecting. Something about your classification as “low-level” made your hackles raise. Not just anyone could have escaped from Chardaan the way you did…

You looked away from him at that, your cheeks burning, and busied yourself instead with examining the ration bar he had placed in your hand. You weren’t familiar with the brand, though it hardly mattered, as you had seen bars like this more times than you could count. Nutrient-dense, packed with protein, vitamins, and carbohydrates. Hopelessly bland. Somehow both fudgy and crumbly at once. They were designed for deep space travel and, although efficient and sensible, you couldn’t help but feel a touch of dread looking at the one in your hand.

“That’s not poisoned, you know.”

The sound of the Mandalorian’s voice startled you out of your thoughts, and you glanced back up at him to see him watching you with something like confusion in his body language.

“If I had wanted to kill you, I would have by now. Poisoning isn’t exactly my style,” he added.

You almost chuckled at that. Perhaps this tin can had a sense of humor after all. “I don’t see you eating yours,” you retorted, staring pointedly at the bars he still held in his gloved hand. “I’m supposed to just trust that these are safe for me?”

“I don’t eat in front of others. I’ll eat when I get back to the cockpit.”

That comment did make you smile. “Ah, but you’re not the only one in the cockpit…are you?”

His posture straightened immediately. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” His voice was back to that cool, firm tone you had become accustomed to from him.

Gotcha.

“That thing you had in your bag. I know you didn’t want me to see it, but…” you trailed off, shrugging slightly.

“That’s none of your concern,” he snapped. The response left no room for debate, but you didn’t mind. It was enough for now that he had confirmed that you weren’t, in fact, losing your mind when you saw that little green hand emerging from his satchel earlier.

“Okay, whatever you say, boss.” You were sure you would learn more about that mysterious creature eventually. After all, it looked like you were going to be stuck with the Mandalorian for a while…

“Don’t call me ‘boss,’” was his only reply. His stance was tense, irritated.

You quirked an eyebrow at him. Perhaps…perhaps you should have been playing it a bit safer. Perhaps it wasn’t wise to provoke your captor, not when he quite literally held the keys to your future freedom in his hands. But…it was more fun than it should be to push his buttons.

“Well, what should I call you, then?” you asked. “I don’t exactly know your name.”

A somewhat exasperated sigh buzzed through his vocoder. “People call me Mando.”

You snorted at that. “Mando? What, like short for ‘Mandalorian’?”

“Yes.”

“That’s not really your name, is it?” It couldn’t be. There was no way.

“It’s what people call me,” he reiterated tersely.

That is not what I asked, you thought, rolling your eyes but unable to suppress a chuckle. This guy was like a character out of a holovid. Masked, stoic, almost comically mysterious.

“Fine. So, what’s next then, Mando? On to the next bounty?”

He shook his head. “Not quite. My carbonite unit is malfunctioning.”

You smirked, feeling that same surge of unearned victory from earlier rise in your chest. “You don’t say.”

“I can’t continue with the hunt until it is repaired,” he continued, completely ignoring your sarcasm.

“Why not? You seem to have handled me just fine without it.” You shook your arms, loudly jangling your durasteel binder against the ladder for emphasis.

“You, yes,” the bounty hunter acknowledged. “But this lot isn’t just low-level bounties. There are some that are…higher risk. Some that I’m going to need that additional insurance for.”

All of the good humor that had been building up inside you throughout this verbal sparring match evaporated at that, and a pit formed in your stomach.

Not for the first time, you took a moment to appraise your captor. He cut a powerful image – his flowing black cape, his fine armor that you would guess was worth more than your life, his purposefully anonymous face. It was also impossible to miss that he was armed to the teeth, even while in hyperspace, even while standing in the cargo hold of his own ship. The ferocity of Mandalorian warriors was legendary. He was clearly a formidable opponent. It made sense to you that this man would be someone skilled enough to bring in the…high-risk quarries.

The bounty hunter allowed you both to sit in silence for a moment as the reality of your situation settled in. This man was dangerous. This job was dangerous. And you were stuck along for the ride, at least for now, whether you liked it or not.

After a moment, he sighed and pushed away from the cabinet, once again making his way toward the ladder. “Eat your food,” he said, his tone somehow both commanding and…soft? Gentle? “I’ll be back later to start on repairs.”

He had climbed all the way up and reached the landing outside of the cockpit before you managed to call out, “Mando?”

A pause, and then, “Yes?”

You swallowed hard. “If you are able to fix it…are you going to freeze me?”

Your question echoed off the bulkheads, your heartbeat loud in your ears.

“Are you going to try to run again?” he asked.

You closed your eyes and rested your head on the nearest ladder rung. Yes, you wanted to say. Of course I am. It was on the tip of your tongue. I am going to try to run every chance you give me.

But…you didn’t reply.

He waited a moment or two, and then you heard the hissing sound of blast doors opening, the echo of his footsteps on the deck, and you knew he had disappeared back into the cockpit.

#din djarin #the mandalorian #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin fanfiction #the mandalorian fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfiction

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limnsaber · 7 months

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Mandalorian Slash Fic Rec List - DinLuke Volume III: Canon AU + Other AU

Welcome to Volume III of The Mandalorian Slash! For reference, 🔐 means a restricted work and 💜 means an personal favorite. Check out the other lists here: Gen III, and Mando Slash I, II, and IV. Happy reading, and make sure to give your love to our featured authors!! -Limn <3

💜 Hand in Glove by rinwins (Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker, Grogu, Prosthesis, Gen, 1k)

“Here,” Luke says, “help me with this?” “I’m not really a mechanic--” “That’s fine, I just need your hand.”

Canon AU

💜 Right Side of the Sun by @vagrantblvrd (Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker, Grogu, Leia Organa, Greef Karga, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, 6k)

Karga comms Din out of the blue and asks him to come to Nevarro.

Under the Sky by @vagrantblvrd (Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker, Grogu, Leia Organa, Han Solo, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Teen, 3k)

“So,” the man currently invading Din’s personal space says, biting his bottom lip as he looks Din over. “You come here often?” Din’s heard better, and when he says as much the man laughs, mouth pulling into a genuine smile.

all for freedom and for pleasure by @foggysirens (Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker, Leia Organa, Han Solo, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Mutual Pining, Rebellion Era, Teen, 10k)

“It was you.” The words fall from Luke’s lips before he can stop them. The Mandalorian freezes, helmeted gaze turning to focus on him. “The Force was leading me to you.” - Or, in an act of desperation, the Rebellion seeks out help from a rather unlikely source, leaving Luke unsure of how to feel about the new arrival to Echo Base, but unable to deny that the Force works in mysterious ways.

Like the Dawn by @ace-din-djarin (Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker, Grogu, Leia Organa, Han Solo, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Mutual Pining, Found Family, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Teen, 15k)

Din’s words appear a few months after the attack on his village, after he had been taken in and adopted by the Mandalorians and the grief was still thick in his throat. He doesn’t know, at first, that they are there at all, until his baji’buir looks at him, her golden buy’ce tilted, and says, quietly, “I believe you have your words, ad.” She hands him a piece of shining beskar to use as a mirror, and sure enough, curled under his left ear in a slanting script, there they are. Two words: I am. — Just before his eyes slip closed, he sees something else overlaid on what he can actually see — a flash of silver, shining and beautiful. Something in Luke’s heart sings, for just a second, and he hears the Force whispering ‘ this one.’ He strains, trying to see more, but he can’t hold on, and drops down into unconsciousness. — Or: The first words your soulmate says to you are written on your skin. Luke and Din travel the galaxy before they find their match.

Branching by @alchemyalice (Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker, Grogu, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Finn, Rey, Gen, 8k)

“What color is the ship?” “White and red,” Reeves reported slowly. “Why?” Din’s lungs rattled as he exhaled. “I, uh.” He worked saliva into his mouth. “I think it might be a friendly.”

🔐 the albatross by TheCosmicMushroom (Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Sith Luke Skywalker, Force Sensitive Din Djarin, Angst with a Happy Ending, Mild Gore, Mature, 5k)

“There, at the epicenter, he awaits. Back-lit by ominous red—so much red—Luke Skywalker appears small, too small certainly for the devastation he’s wrought. Covered head-to-toe in black, he epitomizes the Dark Side itself. Effortlessly, he sends blaster bolts careening back to his would-be attackers with that crackling, wailing blade. Lines blurring from impossible speed, he is a wraith in the waning daylight. And before him, men break into pieces like wet flimsi.” [An AU in which Din finds himself entrenched in the Rebellion and the Imperial Prince’s attention.]

through power, there is victory by @emilianadarling (Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker, Grogu, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Dark, Sith Luke Skywalker, Power Imbalance, Psychological Horror, Teen, 8k)

Then, slipping between Stormtroopers like a living shadow, another man appears. He’s of modest height and slim build, clad in a black cloak with the hood pulled up over his head. The energy in the room instantly changes as he steps forward, becoming weighted and charged. There’s a sense of raw deference in the way everyone watches him. When the commander from earlier steps forward and tries to speak, the man raises a gloved hand to cut him off without looking, dismissing him as easily as one of the rank and file. Din’s stomach bottoms out. - In a galaxy under Emperor Vader’s rule, Din and Grogu are intercepted by Imperials.

only as strong as the warrior next to you by @emilianadarling CaroGolden (Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker, Grogu, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Dark, Sith Luke Skywalker, Power Imbalance, Politics, Possessive Behavior, Imperial Prince Luke Skywalker, Depictions of Fascism, Multimedia, Ensemble Cast, Explicit, 141k, man this one, whoof)

With an indolent air, Luke rests his elbows on the railing, leaning forward to better take in the action. Below the Mandalorian is already in motion, beskar a glinting contrast to black walls and floors. Luke’s eyes trail him as he moves, bitter and gluttonous. Watching as Din takes stock of the concrete half-walls, helmet tilting upward to survey the turrets above. Exploring terrain before the simulation is initiated, his professionalism unaffected by the tension that still lingers beneath armor. Compartmentalization is a skill Luke learned involuntarily; a way to cope with the horror that was once his daily existence. Din, by contrast, embodies the very practice of it. That rigid separation between self and other. The Mandalorian’s inner world is so vast, Luke could get lost in it. - Imperial High Prince Skywalker has taken himself a bodyguard.

Other AU

Persevere by @chocmarss (Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker, Grogu, Ensemble Cast, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Lighthouses, Teen, 40k)

"And you don’t need to pay me anything just because I saved your life. Anyone could’ve done it.” “You’d be surprised at how many wouldn’t,” Luke told him with a wry smile. “My name’s Luke, by the way. So that you’d know who you just dragged into your home.” “That implies that I should be worried,” The man —Din— pointed out, using his hip to lean against the bedpost by his feet. Luke reached forward and set the glass on the tray. “Should I?” The sun lit up his brown hair, catching every curl that glowed red and amber. Luke met his gaze head-on. “I’m not a threat, if that’s what you’re implying.”

Luke didn't take into account how he could get tossed into the sea when he was on that mission; he didn't think he'd wake up in someone else's house. There were a man, his baby, and his dog, you see. You'd have to understand — Luke wanted to be a part of it.

would you be so kind by furiosophie (Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker, Leia Organa, Jyn Erso, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Mature, 4k)

"You ready for self-defense class in second period?” Jyn asks from where she sits with her feet up on the common table of the teacher’s lounge. “Apparently Ahsoka bullied one of the parents into doing it." Now Luke actually comes awake, "One of the parents?" "Yea, that one scary looking dude who never takes off his helmet what was his name--" Oh, Luke knows exactly who that is.

handspun (i could be lonely with you) by @we-re-always-alright (Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker, Grogu, Ensemble Cast, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Chicago, Mature, 40k)

Luke runs a yarn store out of converted coach house in a quiet part of the Clybourn Corridor. Din is trying to chase his kid and keep him from touching everything in sight. Grogu just wants to live in the softest yarns. (A story about the vibe of a city, spoken poetry and the power of the hand knit.)

splicing (tell all the stars above) by @we-re-always-alright (Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker, Grogu, Ensemble Cast, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Chicago, Weddings, Mature, 63k)

Luke decides the best way to get your family to approve of your partner is to drag him and his child to France for a week. Din is skeptical of most of the Skywalker family. Grogu is willing to try snails but he already doesn't like the texture of mushrooms and French cuisine loves mushrooms. Leia is having the most elaborate wedding this family has seen since the last time the Amidala family was at court with the Bourbons. Something about weddings can bring out the best and worst in your family, can't it? (A continuation of the story about the vibe of a city, soft spoken poetry and the power of the hand knit. The Over-the-Top Elaborate French Wedding Edition.)

making it easier for us to celebrate by @andfollowthesun (Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker, Grogu, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Meet-Cute, Pre-Relationship, Gen, 6k)

There are some days when he wishes he could stay at home full-time. Like now, when Grogu plants himself in front of Din, and promptly bursts into tears.

💜 Are We Out of the Woods Yet? by @maered613 (Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker, Grogu, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dinluke Halloween 2022, Mature, 14k)

There’s something following them. Din’s sure of it. His old instincts have kicked in ever since he heard the snap of that branch. It’s almost lunchtime, and by now he’s memorised Skywalker’s graceful, sure gait- and all the kid’s chaotic stampeding. There’s another in the mix. Grogu’s Boy Scout troop is going camping, and faced with the prospect of spending 48 hours worried out of his mind or sleeping outside for a night, Din decides to get some fresh air. Din thinks his biggest problem is going to be hiding his attraction to Grogu’s Scout leader, that is, until he hears something start to follow them through the woods.

💜 To the trust funds and the punishers by niuxuu (Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker, Grogu, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Teen, 15k)

“But you can say no.” “Why would I say no?” As soon as the words left his mouth he realized he wanted to, he wanted to say no more than anything. But he had no reason to do that, not when everything was going according to plan; this was an accomplishment. Grogu needed this, so why was he being selfish and hoping to deny it? or Where Din is Grogu's foster dad and he convinces himself its just for a short while, until one day he's contacted about a couple that wants to adopt the kid and he realizes he can't imagine a life without him.

Blue Sky by @thrvrnd (Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker, Grogu, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Explicit, 35k)

Luke is trying to adapt to his new life: out of the Navy, in a new town with his newly-found sister, following the death of their long-estranged father. Then he meets a Force-sensitive kid and his single dad at a playground. Luke isn't sure about getting into a relationship with a single father. Din's not sure Luke's ready either. Can they work it out? Yeah, they can. They do. That's the story.

And in my mind, I still need a place to go by @dancynrew (Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker, Grogu, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Teen, 7k)

"Ah," Luke says, blinking rapidly, ice pack dripping into his eyes, lights still flickering, air conditioner still groaning horribly. "Well. This is a disaster."

🔐 I'm still trying to figure out (the end of what I was starting to say) by Kushana (Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker, Grogu, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Asexual Relationship, Mature, 7k)

Luke is still reeling from the discovery that he has somehow found himself another family – and isn’t it strange how right it feels, how easy it feels, to fall into rhythm with Din and Grogu. They have been doing it for months now, unaware of what it meant, of where it was leading, getting in sync without having to think about it.

by committee by @treescape (Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Teen, 5k)

Over the years, Luke’s just about seen it all. He and Leia had spent twelve long years growing up in the Imperial Palace while Padme was Supreme Chancellor, and they’re both settling nicely into their own Senatorial careers now that their freshman terms are over. But he’s never seen anything quite like Din Djarin, who’s apparently just won the Mandalorian Senatorial race without ever actually running. Or, Luke and Din are both Senators and serve on the same committee.

Some Glad Tomorrow by @vagrantblvrd (Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Pre-Relationship, Teen, 4k)

Din’s not sure what to expect when he gets a call out of the blue. Especially when the caller turns out to be a lawyer.

💜 Up Against the Dark by @vagrantblvrd (Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Superheroes, Teen, 5k)

Luke honestly doesn’t know what it says about him that he ends up in these situations. Really. “Strange,” the Mand’alor says, a pained note to his voice, which is fair as he literally just took a bullet for Luke. “I think it says you’re an idiot.”

somewhere only we know by @foggysirens (Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker, Grogu, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Night at the Museum Fusion, Teen, 42k)

Scanning the paper, Din's eyes fall onto a listing that he had somehow missed. Right at the bottom of the page, in smudged black ink, is a listing from the natural history museum looking for a new nighttime security guard. Now that was an interesting thought. - Or, Din is a struggling single father who becomes the natural history museum's new night guard. He's not expecting much out of the job other than a steady paycheque, but when the sun goes down and the exhibits start to come to life, Din needs to find a way to keep everything under control. A task easier said than done, especially when there's a certain Medieval knight who won't leave him alone.

impossible scenario by deniigiq (Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker, Peter Parker, Crossovers, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Reincarnation, Reunions, Teen, 14k)

Luke did a double-take. “That’s a lie,” he accused. “Tell the truth or be compelled.” “By the Force?” Ned asked hopefully. Luke blinked at him. He pointed at the glass sliding door which revealed Obi-Wan holding Junior the cat above his head by the kitchen sink. “By the Force,” he said. Ned’s face fell. (Peter accidentally flirts with a drunk Luke Skywalker in the middle of an identity crisis. He then becomes involved with a bunch of people who might actually be more chaotic than him and decides to help out the best he can.)

#dinluke #skydalorian #din djarin #luke skywalker #the mandalorian #star wars fanfiction #star wars fanfiction recommendations #star wars #lim's fic recs

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