Din Djarin x Reader Headcanons Pt. 1
Summary: How you met the Mandalorian and eventually became his lover.
Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!Reader
Warnings: Mentions of canon violence, a shower massage. Very slow burn because I like suffering haha.
Yeah so these started out as headcanons but because I can't write briefly to save my life, it basically turned into a fic in bullet point form lmao. There is a second part coming soon once I dig the rest out of my notes app!
Also, because I like to create origins for reader characters, she is culturally Mandalorian by birth, but because I'm a huge nerd she was raised by the Lorrdians because I always thought their nonverbal language skills were absolutely badass.
*Translations of words/phrases in Mando'a at the end
You and the Mandalorian first crossed paths on a wild outer rim planet somewhere, having been sent after the same bounty by the Guild
He questioned why you wore a beskar breastplate, thinking you had stolen it from his people
The bounty had escaped, and against his better judgment, he brought you with him in pursuit, especially after you told him your armor had belonged to your buir
You were born into Clan Viszla, but your family had escaped to Lorrd during the unrest, where you had been raised in the traditions of the Mando'ade but also learned the Lorrdian language
Because of this, you quickly became accustomed to reading his body language, as he rarely spoke
He doesn't know what to make of you, since you long ago abandoned your helmet and thus in his eyes broke your creed
For your part, you're aware he must have been raised by extremists, but you respect his religious beliefs
The two of you make a surprisingly good team and end up splitting the bounty
Neither of you could say why you stayed, and why he didn't drop you off somewhere, but you kept working together
As you get more comfortable, your sarcastic nature begins to surface more often
He can't tell if he hates or enjoys your constant commentary, but he's occasionally willing to give back; most of the time you just get a long-suffering sigh in response
Although he stays mostly aloof, you can read by his gestures eventually that he pretty much considers you friends by now
The problem with this is that you're an extremely touchy person physically, having grown up in a very intimate community, and he is not
At first he shrugs you off whenever your hand brushes his armor as you pass by, but after months of patience from you, he finally accepts your friendly hand on his arm with a grudging sigh of defeat
You get to know each other a little better with all the time you spend patching each other up in hard-to-reach areas
Now you know the color of his skin, which, although such a small detail, makes you feel immensely honored, since hardly anyone else ever will
For his part, he's surprisingly gentle at tending injuries, and you just wish that someday he might take off his gloves to touch you
Little facts about each other keep surfacing during these vulnerable sessions
"What are these for?" he asks you once when he has to pull your braids away from your neck; he's perceptive, to have picked up that they mean something
"The Weequay started that custom, each one stands for a year I've been away from Mandalore"
He's quiet for a long time before asking one more question
"Do you ever mean to go back?"
"I don't know if I want to anymore; but it feels right to honor my first home"
When he's finished cleaning up the lacerations across your upper back, you rise to your feet and let your hand linger on his shoulder
"Thank you, Mando"
"Din," he murmurs, so soft you can barely pick it up over his modulator "My name is Din Djarin"
He trusts you with his actual name
"Din," you smile, warmth spreading beneath your skin at finally having cracked his shell "Thank you"
After that, your interactions shift a bit
He's a little more welcoming of your casual touches
He would never say so, but you can tell he almost leans into them now
You can also tell by his posturing that he hasn't really been touched by anyone for a very long time
Does he realize he craves the contact?
Chasing that one bounty all over Tatooine did a number on both of you
You didn't know sand could get some of the places it's gotten
"I need a shower" you tell him as you step back into the Razor Crest, sand trailing in your wake
"I know you must need one too, Djarin, don't pretend that fancy beskar suit keeps it all out"
"I'll wait" he grumbles
"You can join me, you know" you offer "Another set of hands always helps with sand"
He stares at you for so long, you start to wonder if you've been too forward, but you mean exactly what you've said and nothing more...don't you?
Finally he wordlessly gestures at his helmet
Of course, his creed
Wait, does that mean he actually considered it?
You smirk up at his expressionless visor, feeling his sharp gaze fixed on you
"What, Din, don't tell me you've never showered with the lights out?"
You're very satisfied with how your idea unfolds, and he accepts without too much further need for convincing, so here you are, sharing the small 'fresher shower with the Mandalorian himself
Din stays mostly silent as the two of you work to rid your bodies of sand, though you can hear him sigh softly every time your skin kisses his for a moment
He's almost too much for you in this cramped space, smelling of sweat and smoke, solid and muscular where you've collided, and all your other senses are on overdrive since you can't see a thing in the darkness
And that's when it hits you that you've fallen for him
But you keep that thought to yourself
He makes an excellent platonic shower partner, attentive to when you need help scrubbing the grime from areas that are hard to reach
His hands are wonderful without those gloves, so much larger than your own slender ones, startlingly tender despite their roughness
And so warm, his whole body is so warm
You return the favor, and feel how tense he is beneath the surface
You can't tell for once if that tension is caused by you or if he just carries that much all the time
So as you wash the grit from his broad back, as your fingertips skate over the scars of his brutal lifestyle, you experimentally nudge into those rigid muscles, in an attempt to loosen him up a bit
The sharp inhale makes you freeze
"Forgive me --"
"No" your heart jolts at finally hearing his low voice so clearly without the modulator "Don't stop"
So you continue to massage out the stiffness wherever you find it, trying not to let his clipped breaths affect you too much
Then you part ways without a word once the water is off; he leaves you alone there in the 'fresher to dry off with the lights on, wondering if something went wrong
Buir = Parent
Mando'ade = Children of Mandalore
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