zerstorerin

[zerstorerin]

Cold Crash (Pt. 1)

Summary: Din cares for a hypothermic reader after crashing on the ice planet.

Warnings: Mentions of spiders, hypothermia, and Din being a slightly spicy flirt.

Word Count: 3.5K

Comments: I hope you're craving caretaker Din as much as I do. It seems all my fics have an injured character trope... Awkwarddd. Do we want a part two??

About a year ago...

"What's your worst fear?" you asked Mando. You'd been in hyperspace for hours now, and though the beskar-clad warrior had mentioned the trip to the Core planets would take upwards of a few days, you hadn't expected to be so... bored.

"I'm not afraid of anything," he replied. He was clearly unamused at your feeble attempt to pass the time.

"Bantha shit!" you cursed, tucking your legs up in your chair. "Everybody's afraid of something. I'm afraid of spiders."

Mando scoffed. "Spiders?"

You reached over and cuffed him across the helmet as you tried to stifle your own giggles. "Hey! It's not funny. It's a completely valid fear."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah." Your laughter died out as old trauma surfaced in your mind."I, uh... I got bit by a spider as a kid. Turns out, it was poisonous, and I would've died if my dad hadn't rushed me to the medbay like he did." Mando's figure stilled in the pilot's chair. "I had recurring nightmares for weeks. My- my dad would wake up and rush into my room, helping me check my arms and legs. And then he'd stay with me all night, watching for spiders. He'd be right there the next morning with bags under his eyes."

Mando didn't talk for awhile. Only the beeping and soft hum of the Crest lingered between you two.

He finally spoke up when you'd almost dozed off in your chair. "Droids."

"Hm?"

"I'm afraid of droids." He looked over his shoulder, as if waiting for a response.

But you would never judge him for that, nor did you want to pressure him to tell you why— if there even is a why. Who ever said fears had to be justified? So you waited.

The Mandalorian correctly read your silence as a message of acceptance. He stood up from the pilot's seat and made his way over to you.

And then he knelt and bowed his head, causing you to freeze. "I'm not ready to share my story yet, if that's okay."

You immediately relaxed. "Of course, that's okay—"

"And I'm sorry for laughing." Mando's helmet raised, and you could've sworn he was looking you in the eyes. "I had no right to make a joke of your fear after you were brave and kind enough to share it with me. Ni ceta."

He already had your forgiveness, even if he didn't think himself deserving. And you knew he always would, because even then, you were head over heels in love with the beskar-clad warrior.

Present.

When he woke, Din's first thoughts were of you and the Child. You two were always his priority and would be until his last breath.

His second thought was about how cold it was in the ship. A thick layer of frost coated his beskar, essentially gluing him to the dashboard, and his joints felt stiff.

He looked over his shoulder to the passenger's seat to check on you, but he saw the frog lady unconscious on the floor instead. It took him a moment to remember why, still disoriented from the crash.

You had been cooking for the kid when the New Republic officers had shown up, which meant you were down in the hull when the ship had crashed.

You and the kid were in the hull, where the ship had likely taken the most damage.

Peeling himself from the dashboard, ice and metal snapping apart, he called out your name.

No response.

The frog lady groaned as she woke up, her purple skin a sicker shade of lilac from the freezing temperatures. Din lifted her to her feet, helping her to settle against the wall.

She croaked at him, and he knew that she was worried about her family— just as he was worried about his.

"I'll find your eggs. Don't worry," he assured her. "Gotta get you some blankets,

keep you warm."

Fear flared in his chest. The cockpit had stayed sealed, but it was still cold as ice. If the hull had been penetrated, you would be hypothermic— no. He forced the suffocating feeling from his mind with reasonable thoughts. The little kitchenette Din had recently installed on board wasn't far from

the sleeping compartment, so it was possible you had been able to lock the kid and yourself in. You'll have some bruises from getting banged around, but you'll be okay.

He climbed down the ladder, taking in the sight of snow blowing into the hold through a gaping hole. He cursed under his breath, then yelled for you again. "Riduur!"

Din turned around to the tiny bedroom and tapped the control panel. The door slid open to reveal no sign of either of you.

"Where are you?" he asked, and with each moment that you and the child went unfound, his heart rate increased.

The frog lady said something to him he didn't understand directly but guessed it had something to do with her family.

"Hang on, I'm looking for your eggs!"

His heart sank, knowing his answer was a half truth. He was certainly keeping an eye out for her eggs, but his first priority was to his aliit.

Avoiding sparking wires and fallen boxes, he crossed the hold to a blanket that was moving suspiciously and making swallowing noises. Pulling the blanket back confirmed that his son was indeed snacking on more eggs, but he was safe.

"No! Your mother told you not to do that," Din scolded as a bit of the worry eased from his body. He shouted, "Found them!" up to the frog lady and closed the incubator.

The kid pushed the last egg into his mouth.

"How many did you eat?"

The green little monster only guiltily burped in response.

The frog lady came down the ladder to the cockpit, and Din allowed her to take the incubator into her arms. She croaked, raising one hand and drawing a line back and forth around your height.

"No, I haven't found her yet." He gestured to the kid, who was now playing on the fallen boxes, completely unaware of the dangers they all were in. "Can you keep an eye on him?"

She said something in frog language he understood to be an agreement.

On the outside, Din had managed to appear calm, but on the inside... he was terrified. This hull wasn't that big. He'd already have found you if you were still in the ship. So all that was left was the absolutely horrifying conclusion that you had been thrown from the ship at some point during crash. You were out in that snow somewhere, and his earlier fear was slowly becoming reality.

Din ducked as he stepped out of the hole in the hull, and all at once realized just how deadly the brazen winter really was. He focused on his breathing to keep his body from going into shock, and started to search through the wreckage and other things thrown from the ship. There were several storage boxes, some of his tools, and his old cape—

It was your cape now, though. After he had gifted it to you, you never took it off.

He knelt began to dig, desperately trying to uncover the rest of your form. "I found you, cyar'ika. I'm here." He dug out your shoulder first, then carefully traced it to where your head would be. He kept swiping away layer after layer of snow, now more gently as he neared your face. Your eyelashes appeared first, then your nose and mouth, and then he was pushing his hands under your head to pull you out of the snow and to his chest. "I got you, riduur." But you didn't stir, not even as he lifted you into his arms and carried you back to the ship. He was most worried about the fact that you weren't shivering like you should be.

"Blankets! I need blankets!" Din ordered, every muscle in his body now trembling with the fear of losing his wife.

The kid noticed his momma in his father's arms and his ears drooped to his sides, but he nonetheless scurried as fast as he could to the sleeping compartment to find you a blanket. He put his tiny green fingers on one and pulled, crying out when he realized he wasn't strong enough.

Din laid you down on the floor of the Crest, looking over to see the frog lady helping your son with the blanket. Turning his attention back to you, he ripped his gloves off his hands and brushed the remaining snowflakes from your face. "Riduur, wake up."

Your skin was as cold and pale as the frozen wasteland outside of the Razor Crest, but it could've been worse. Luckily, the snow that covered you had actually acted as an insulator, keeping your body heat trapped around you. The warmth of his bare hands massaging your cheeks roused you from your unconsciousness. Your eyes fluttered as you tried to open them, and your blue lips parted to heave in a full breath. "The kid... is he—"

"He's fine. He's—"

Right on cue, your son laid his head on your chest, cooing in worry. "He's right here." The frog lady passed Din the blanket, which he laid over you and the kid.

Your eyes opened in the kid's direction, taking note of his presence, then closed again. "Din... cold... I'm cold." Consciously or unconsciously, you nuzzled your cheek into his palm.

"I know, riduur. I'm going to take care of you, okay?"

Your lack of response told him your body was again dragging you into sleep. He needed to keep you awake not only because you were hypothermic but as a precaution in case you incurred any head injuries.

"No, no. You can't go back to sleep. I know you're tired and cold," he said gently as he nudged you into a seating position. "But you have to look at me. Open your eyes."

For the first time since he found you in the snow, you looked directly at him, staring into his visor right where you knew his eyes would be. "Hi," you breathed out.

"Hi," he chuckled, brushing a piece of wet hair out of your eyes. He pressed his fingers to your neck to check your pulse. It was slower than he would've liked, but not yet too slow. "I need you to stay awake, mesh'la."

You smiled faintly and put your arms around his neck, pulling yourself up to nuzzle your face in his neck. "Can we go to bed?"

Amnesia and confusion— common side effects of hypothermia.

Din wanted to cry, wanted to take off his helmet and cry so you could wipe away his tears and tell him it was okay. You were so cold and confused and cloudy-eyed, and it physically hurt him inside. "No, we can't go to bed."

"Why not? What's... what's wrong?" You pulled away, eyebrows scrunched and a frown where your beautiful smile was but a moment ago.

"We crashed on an ice planet escaping the New Republic soldiers. You..." Din swallowed, trying to hold back his tears. "I found you in the snow. You're hypothermic, so I need you to stay awake. Can you do that for me?"

Under his helmet, a few tears streaked down Din's face as he watched the realization set in on your face. Unable to watch any longer, he turned his gaze to the kid who was still cuddling his mom with droopy ears. "You can help your buir stay awake, right ad'ika?"

Your little green bean gurgled, an unhappy but confident sound, and climbed onto your lap.

"I'll be back in a few minutes, okay? I'm going check out the Crest and patch up that hole to keep the snow out. Stay awake, mesh'la." Din tilted your chin up with his hand, tapping his thumb twice on your lips— his way of telling you he wanted to kiss you when he couldn't remove his helmet.

"Love you," you told him.

"Love you." He repeated his tap once more.

—

You offered the kid a piece of the dinner Din was forcing you to eat even though you weren't hungry. He said it was to keep your metabolism burning calories which in turn would keep your core temperature higher, so you had agreed to try and eat even if every part of your body felt frozen.

The kid took it graciously, popping it into his mouth before reaching onto the plate and shoving a piece toward your mouth instead. You chuckled and opened your mouth to let him push it in. "Did your buir put you up to this?" you said as you chewed, earning a giggle from him.

That warmed you up a bit, and you could only continue to let him hand feed you with how happy he was to help.

The blanket covering the hole in the Crest rustled. Din entered, and his first glance was to you. "How much has she eaten?"

"I'm right here," you scoffed, feigning offense.

The kid ignored you and chirped some nonsense, but after shoving one more piece of food into your mouth, picked up the plate to show Din that it was empty.

"Good job, ad'ika," Din praised, patting his son on the head. "If you hadn't guessed, we're in a tight spot. The main power drive is not responding and the hull has lost its integrity. I suspect the temperature will drop significantly when night falls. I'll have a better idea of our prospects at that time."

He began to remove his armor, piece by piece, setting it in a near pile near one of the portable heaters. You scooted forward to help remove his leg armor, starting with his shinguards and working up to his cuisses.

"Are you that excited to get me naked, mesh'la?" Din said lowly.

Your face felt hot as you slapped him on the thigh and widened your eyes at him, even if you couldn't stop the smile on your face. "Riduur!" you scolded, jerking your chin to the frog mom and the kid. "You better keep those thoughts to yourself or you can sleep at the other end of the ship."

"Won't be a problem, mesh'la. I had plenty of

practice before we married."

Your eyes narrowed as you internally wondered just how long he'd been keeping those thoughts to himself.

Din left only his helmet on and seated himself beside you. He then patted his thigh, silently letting you know that there was an opening available.

Not only were you hypothermic and in need of more warmth, but you were never one to pass up an opportunity to cuddle with your husband, so you were quick to settle yourself in his lap facing him, one leg on either side of his hips.

You had just laid your head on his chest when the frog mom started to croak urgently.

"I'm sorry lady, I don't understand Frog," Din responded as he covered the pair of you in a blanket. "Whatever it is, it can wait until morning. I recommend you get some sleep."

You watched the stranded mother place her own blanket over her eggs. If you were gonna have to stay awake all night like Din told you—

"You can sleep now," he murmured as if he could sense your thoughts. "I'll have to wake you up if the heaters turn off, but you should get some rest while you can."

"Only if you promise to sleep, too." When he doesn't immediately respond, you lift your head off his chest and stare right into his helmet. "Din, you need to sleep, too."

"I'm not tired—" he started to protest, but you knew better. You'd been taking care of him for over a year now. Just because you were hypothermic doesn't mean you forgot Din neglected both meals and sleep before you came along.

"Do not start with me, riduur," you scolded, glaring up at him through your lashes. The look was a warning, and it was clear that Din understood by the way his helmet fell back against the wall. "The last time you rested for more than five minutes was before we arrived on Tatooine. You cannot take care of everyone else if you don't take care of yourself."

"Okay, okay." He nudged your head back to his chest, brushing his fingers through your hair once, then again. "I'll sleep."

"Thank you," you murmured.

His gloved fingers trailed to your neck this time, where he tapped his thumb twice and then made small strokes back and forth. Din whispered, "Thank you, mesh'la," placing such sweet emphasis on 'you' that your heart ached for him. He had said it like... like he didn't deserve it. "I... didn't realize you paid such close attention."

"Of course I do," you said. "You do such a great job of taking care of me and the kid, so it's my job to make sure you're needs are met, too. You're my riduur. I swore a vow to you." You tightened your arms around him. "And I plan on keeping it."

He squeezed you back. "Speaking of needs—"

You pinched his arm, causing him to flinch. "What did I say about keeping your thoughts to yourself?"

"I was only going to say to let me know if you needed another blanket," he groaned.

"I'll believe that when banthas fly."

—

"Wake up, Mandalorian."

Din pulled his gun out of his holster and rolled you underneath him before he was even consciously aware of what was going on. You clutched tightly to Din's arm as you woke, eyes wide.

"This cannot wait until morning."

You blinked away the sleep fog. The robotic voice was coming from Zero, the droid who had assisted in the attempt of Din's capture on the New Republic prison ship— and almost killed the kid.

"Din—"

"Do not be alarmed," the droid said. "I bypassed the droid's security protocols and accessed its vocabulator."

You sat up to peek around Din's shoulder, and you realized it was the frog lady speaking. She held a microphone wired to the droid.

"What the hell are you doing?" Din holstered his blaster, but he kept his arm firmly placed over your torso. "That droid is a killer."

"These eggs are the last brood of my life cycle," the droid translated. "My husband has risked his life to carve out an existence for us on the only planet that is hospitable to our species. We fought too hard and suffered too much to resign ourselves to the extinction of our family tree. I must demand that you hold true to the deal that you agreed to."

"Look, lady. The deal is off," Din said. "We're lucky if we get off this frozen tomb with our lives."

The Frog Lady croaked into the microphone again. "I thought honoring one's word was a part of the Mandalorian code. I guess those are just stories for children."

Din bolted to his feet, so rigid that his shoulders didn't even move with the labored breaths coming through the modulator. You could only guess how frustrated he was feeling right now— the past week had worn him down to exhaustion. First, it was the business with the beskar hunters, then the krayt dragon, and now this.

You slipped your fingers into Din's clenched fist, giving a soft squeeze.

"This was not part of the deal," he said.

You tugged gently on his hand and stood up. "C'mere."

Din followed you across the hull, his movements softer and less rigid the moment you were in his sight. "Riduur..."

You hushed him. "Just breathe with me."

After taking one deep breath in, you were surprised when Din curled one arm around your shoulders and cradled your head with the other. His grip tightened like you were the only thing keeping his feet on the ground, as if without you, he might drift up into space. He took the next breath with you and then a few more after that.

"Riduur," you murmured, keeping your voice low and soothing. "You're right. None of this was part of the deal, so you don't owe her anything by creed or by code. And I hate to ask you to do more for us than you already have, but what if it was our kid?"

Din cupped your cheek, lifting your chin up to look into his visor.

"What would you do if it was his life on the line?" you said quieter, glancing over his shoulder at your precious green bean. "She's just a parent, riduur. Like we both are. Don't we owe it to her to try and save her eggs?"

Din rested his helmet against your forehead. "You're right, mesh'la," he said. "I love and hate that you're always right."

"Yeah, well," you giggled. "One of us has to be the brains, right?"

Translations (Mando'a - English)

ni ceta - I'm sorry

riduur - spouse

aliit - family

cyar'ika - darling

mesh'la - beautiful

masterlist

[zerstorerin]

Broken Vow (Bonus Scene)

Summary: Mando confronts the reader about what they said when they were stitching him up the previous night.

Warnings: So much fluff you could turn this fic into a blanket.

Word Count: 526

Comments: If you haven't read Broken Vow yet, be sure to do so before continuing. Enjoy this so-sweet-it's-syrupy bonus scene.

"Kar'ika..."

There was a finger tracing soft shapes along your cheek.

"Ner kar'ika, wake up."

Your eyelashes fluttered open, blinking at the soft pink hue of the binary Tatooinian sunrise.

Mando trailed his hand along your cheekbone, tucking loose strands of hair behind your ear. "It's time to go."

Memories of yesterday crashed into you at lightspeed. "I— I fell asleep." You sat up fast, bringing a hand to cover your mouth as embarrassment settled upon you. You whipped your gaze toward his dark visor. "I fell asleep! By the Maker, I am so sorry. You're injured and I was supposed to be taking care of you and what if someone came along—"

Mando's glove hand moved to where yours had been not a moment ago, effectively ceasing your rambling. "It's okay. I..." His helmet turned away from you as if he was looking away. "I liked that you felt comfortable enough to fall asleep in my arms. Protecting you... it makes me happy, ner kar'ika."

You're trapped in a state of shock with wide eyes and flushed cheeks as your Mandalorian stands up and then offers you not one, but two hands. You place both of your own atop his, allowing him to pull you to your feet. You can't even find it in you to respond.

That black glass is once again locked in your direction. "Did you mean it?" he asks.

Out of all the things you said last night while he was dying, you knew there was only one thing to which he could be referring. "M-mean what?"

Without missing a beat, he answers, "That you love me."

Wow, well that's straightforward. Everything inside of you hurt but in a good way. You couldn't breathe, your heart was jumping into hyperdrive, and your muscles felt like they were turning inside out. Somehow, you found the strength to say something. "Mando, I—"

"Din."

"What?" Does he even want an answer to his question? What in Malachor did he interrupt me for?

It took him a few seconds this time, at least two full breaths on your part. "My name is Din Djarin. I want you to use it."

Oh.

Oh.

Your Mandalorian just gave you his name. He wasn't just Mando to you anymore— not that he ever really was just Mando, but now he was—

"Din," you whispered, your voice so delicate you weren't sure he heard you.

And then that helmet tilted in the most irritatingly hot way and you knew he had heard. "Did you mean it?"

"Yes," you squeaked, surprising yourself with your speedy answer.

You are an entirely different person around demanding Din.

It was at that moment that you realized you were still holding his hands from when he pulled you up.

Din squeezed them both gently, and then he released only one. The way he turned his body after that— Maker help me. He wanted to hold your hand on the walk back to Peli's hangar. I'm going to die right here.

And then he said one more heart-palpitating word that sent you over the metaphorical edge into an ocean of pure elation and bliss.

"Good."

Translations (Mando'a - English)

ner kar'ika - my little star

masterlist

[zerstorerin]

Broken Vow

Summary: Mando doesn't come back to the ship, so you go looking for him.

Warnings: Severe injury, near death, graphic imagery, medical procedures.

Word Count: 2.2k

Comments: The ANGST of injuries bc of the sweet care that follows brings me life.

It was always hard when Mando left, leaving you and the child on the ship for often days at a time while he took part in some scughole backwater job to help the three of you continue barely scraping by. Since joining the crew, you'd grown fond of the Mandalorian's protective presence, and when it was gone, you missed it. You missed him. It wouldn't be a lie to say you'd... become attached to the man beneath the armor.

This time, though, you had felt more anxious than usual in Mando's absence. Your gut told you something was wrong— not that you could do anything about it. Mando made you swear early on that your number one priority would be to keep the child safe, even if that meant abandoning the Mandalorian. You'd of course agreed, not knowing you'd later develop a deep connection to the armored warrior.

As soon as you stepped out of Hangar 3-5, you understood why Mando preferred you to stay back with the kid when you were on Tatooine. This planet was the definition of backwater scughole. You cringed at the acrid stench burning in your nose.

"You better come back alive, you here me?" Peli said, your little green baby cradled in her arms. "Or else that Mandalorian will blame me for whatever tragic end you meet."

The kid cooed at you, ears drooped. Honestly, the only reason you were even leaving the safety of the Razor Crest was because of him. He'd been frantically crying at you and touching all of Mando's in-reach belongings for at least an hour before you finally got the hint.

Mando told you about the kid's powers— things he'd seen that he couldn't explain. You knew that's what was happening now. Somehow, the child could sense that his ward was in trouble.

"I'll come back. Promise." You traced your pointer finger in a criss-cross motion in front of your heart. The kid seemed to relax a little.

By the time the binary suns were dipping over the sandy horizon, you'd barely wandered through half of Mos Eisley. The spaceport was massive and, not to mention, crowded beyond belief. You weren't even sure what to look for or what you'd do when you found him, if you were being honest. During the last hour, you'd been trying not to think about finding Mando dead, stripped of his armor, without any way to know it was him.

It was that thought that made you decide to turn back in hopes of discovering that he was waiting at the ship for you to return. You spun on your heel to go back the way you came, gaze drifting over an alleyway off the main street.

The glimpse of a figure slouched against the wall made you do a double take, and for a moment, you stared at him— if that even was him over there— and tried to muster up some bravery. You couldn't tell if he was breathing from here, and you weren't sure you could handle discovering that he wasn't.

"Mando?" you called out.

No response.

Your heart dropped to the floor. He's dead, you thought as you ran to his side, only confirming his identity by his armor. You didn't even have time to be relieved because there was blood everywhere.

Thick, dark liquid stained the sand around him, soaking into the dry desert ground almost as fast as it was pouring from his... from... Force. You swallowed as you inched closer. You couldn't even tell where it was coming from.

You wanted to throw up. This couldn't be real. It was just a terrible nightmare or some sick, twisted training exercise Mando engineered to test you. Anything else— it was anything else but reality.

It was real, though. You knew that. This was real because you could see it with your own eyes. You could smell the coppery, velvet tang of his blood, the taste lingering in your mouth with each breath. It was tangibly real, but you could fix this.

Mando's voice sounded from your memories.

Turn off your anxiety and worry, he had told you. Rely on instinct and muscle memory. That's how you deal with a crisis— as long as you remember what you're fighting for.

You tossed the ambien rifle off your shoulder, kneeling between his legs as you shoved your hand under his cowl to search for a pulse. Your fingertips grazed the scruffy underside of his jaw and trailed down his neck. The vein pulsed weakly under your touch once you found the right spot.

He's alive. If only just.

You tried again to search for the source of the blood, ultimately failing because of the restricting beskar— the armor that was supposed to make him invincible.

"Wake up," you pleaded, letting out a frustrated cry as you dropped your forehead on his cuirass. "Please, wake up."

And by some miracle, worn leather brushed the side of your cheek. "Cyar'ika?"

Your eyes snapped open, catching his gloved hand in your own and pressing it to your face. It was warm, and however faint, there was some strength in his movements. "Thank the Maker. I thought you were... gone." You choked out the last word. Trying to block out the what-ifs running through your mind as well as all the subsequent emotions, you focused your gaze on his visor, the reflective black glass and beskar as much a comfort to you as any.

"Not g-gone yet," Mando groaned as he tried to move.

You instantly had your hands on his shoulders, gently urging him back against the wall. "No! No, don't try to get up. I gotta patch you up first, okay? Then we can go back to the Crest."

To your surprise, your Mandalorian didn't protest at all, his only response a barely perceivable nod with a resigning exhale.

"Good. Now—" you guided his hand from your cheek down to his chest. "I need to know where you're hurt," you said.

Mando dropped his hand to the side of his abdomen. "Here... and—" He gestured to his helmet, then gasped in pain and laid his helmet back against the wall.

"And your head?" you asked.

He grunted what you had to assume was some sort of confirmation.

Starting to remove his armor, you froze as you tried to remember his Creed. Someone else removing his armor... You racked your brain. That was okay as long as it's not his helmet. "I'll do what I can without breaking your Creed," you assured him, letting him know that you were conscious of the boundaries set between you two. He'd made it plenty clear in the past that he'd rather die than break his Creed.

"I know," he said.

Your chest expanded with warmth— with pride and delight. Or, at least as much as the situation at hand allowed. Mando trusted you with the thing most sacred to him and that... well, that made Storini Glass Prowlers flutter in your stomach.

After undoing the locks that secured his armor to his flight suit, you removed his plackart so you could access whatever wound awaited you. And what did—

By the Maker.

The Glass Prowlers disappeared, and they were replaced with something much more dreadful.

You placed your hand over your mouth, squeezing your eyes shut. This couldn't be real. This was a nightmare. This was your world cracking and crumbling until your feet had nothing left to stand on.

Mando should be dead.

"That bad?" he gasped out.

You didn't want to open your eyes yet. You didn't want to look at the jagged tear from his ribs to his navel or his organs nearly spilling out of his body. But you would have to, preferably sooner rather than later if you were going to keep him alive.

Forcing your eyes open and your nausea down, you shook your head, grabbing a bacta patch from the medpack. It didn't seem big enough. "You're going to be okay." It was a half-hearted assurance, mostly for yourself, but the little confidence it rallied within you dissipated as the patch began to soak with blood.

"Dank farrik!" you cursed.

The bacta patch wasn't sticking.

Mando managed to raise his hand from the ground, his fingertips weakly curled toward his palm. He nudged your arm away. "You're gonna... gonna have t-to stitch me up."

Your already racing heart jumped at the thought of pushing a needle through his skin. Squeezing your eyes shut, you tucked your chin to your chest. "I can't—"

That worn leather cupped your chin, lifting it until you were gazing into the dark glass of his visor again. "You can," he said, his tone firm. Possessive even.

"That'll hurt," you whimpered.

His next breath was ragged. "I can ta-take it."

You shook your head. He wasn't understanding you. There was no way you'd be able to cause him pain. "I can't."

And yet deep down, you knew your Mandalorian was dying. Hurting him a few times with a needle— as unbearable as that would be— was better than losing him forever.

"Gonna have... have to learn to," Mando said as you moved to grab the needle and bacta thread from the medpack. Luckily there was already some pre-threaded— likely a remnant from before you came along when he had to patch himself up.

You chuckled. "Why? Because I'm in love with an infuriatingly reckless bounty hunter who takes on dangerous jobs even after I specifically ask him not to and then I have to be the one to patch him up?"

The both of you stared at each other for a moment longer than you should have, heat rising to your cheeks. Did I just... did I just confess to him? He- he won't remember anyways. Blood loss or whatever. Maker, what you would give for one of those beskar helmets right now.

You averted your gaze, readying the needle in your hand. Here goes nothing.

With your left hand, you gently squished the edges of the wound toward each other, starting at the bottom. He grunted, to which you muttered a quick apology.

And then, you started to stitch him up.

Every time the needle passed through his flesh, the awareness of piercing literal layers of skin and muscle faded a bit. He'll die if I don't do this, you kept reminding yourself. He's the injured one. Pull yourself together. Mando protects you and the kid everyday. The least you can do is return the favor.

You're unaware of your Mandalorian's eyes trained on the crown of your head. "Where's the kid?" he asked.

"With Peli," you respond shortly, trying to focus on your handiwork.

Of course, this is a perfect moment for an argument, so he continues. "I told you to stay in the ship."

The Mandalorian flinches as you halt with the needle halfway through so you can tilt your head up until you're staring coldly up at his visor. You gesture down to his injury. "Do you want me to let you bleed out?"

Mando hesitates for a moment, contemplating the authenticity of your threat. "You promised me the kid was your first priority."

"And he is. But the kid isn't dying right now." You get back to work, nearly complete in suturing the long slice down his side. "You are."

He grunted. "I'm not dying yet."

"Only because I found you," you growl. "You're not invincible, even if we both prefer to pretend you are."

Honestly, it was easier to focus on your mild anger rather than the raging anxiety and fear pitting in your stomach. But he shut up, and that anger dissipated quicker than you would've liked, leaving you to the whirlwind of worry.

But then it was over.

After the last stitch, you tied a knot with the bacta thread and then covered the sutures with a new patch.

"Vor entye," Mando said, more steadiness and... more life in his voice than when you found him.

As you fit his armor back onto his flight suit, that feeling of safety and protection settled back into your chest like a heavy blanket and a warm cup of caf. It wasn't the armor, though, that made you feel like this. It was his presence, and you had just assured it wouldn't leave so soon. "You're welcome. Can you make it back to the ship?"

Your Mandalorian's posture softened as he responded. "Need a minute... for bacta to- to kick in."

You nodded, wholeheartedly ready to give him as much time as he needed, and reached to clasp the medpack shut.

A gloved hand locked around your wrist, tugging insistently. "C'mere."

The Storini Glass Prowlers started to tickle the bottom of your lungs again, crawling up your spine to induce a lightheaded grin.

Now all sorts of flustered, you shook a bit as Mando lead you to sit beside him, but not before spreading his cape out so you didn't have to sit on the bloody sand. He even slung his arm over your shoulder once you were tucked into his side.

He didn't say anything, so neither did you.

With your ear against his chest, you could hear his heartbeat— steady, strong, safe. He's alive, you tell yourself, pride glowing in your cheeks because you protected him.

Translations (Mando'a - English)

cyar'ika - darling

vor entye - thank you

Broken Vow (Bonus Scene)

masterlist

[zerstorerin]

Care

Summary: Din takes care of your sprained ankle, and you are reminded of how much of a softie the space warrior really is.

Warnings: Ankle injury, descriptive imagery, and medical care.

Word Count: 1.3k

Comments: This was inspired by an injury that I had a few months ago, and when it happened, I asked @hdlynnslibrary to do one for me. I loved the one she wrote for me! It's called Soothe Your Wounds, so definitely go check it out! Anyways, here's my version of coping from when I was still hobbling around.

Early today, you had barely fallen two feet when you'd slipped off the ladder to the cockpit. You had felt a twinge in your ankle from the sudden impact with the floor, but you told yourself that you were fine because you could put pressure on it. You'd even repeatedly assured Din you weren't hurt as he had assessed you for potential injuries.

Now, you were stranded on the cockpit floor after your nap in Din's comfy pilot seat, unable to step on your foot at all. You didn't want to worry Din, but you also knew that if he figured out you were hurt and didn't tell him, he'd... well, he wouldn't be angry, but he would probably scold you for hiding such a thing. You swallowed your pride, knowing you needed the help, and called out to your Mandalorian.

It was clear he'd recognized the pained tone in your voice from the way he hurried through the sliding door, his shoulders tensed. "What's wrong?"

You dropped your gaze to the floor, your face burning red as you tried to blink away your tears. "Remember when I fell earlier?"

His gloved hand shifted your chin so you were facing him again, your blurry eyes meeting his visor. "Cyar'ika, you told me you were fine," he sighed softly with nothing but absolute care in his voice.

You took a breath of relief at that, and laced your fingers with his. "I- I thought I was fine, but I can't put weight on it anymore, and my ankle hurts."

Din squeezed your hand and wiped away your tears with his other one, the worn leather soft against your cheek. "My best guess is that it's probably just a sprain, given that you were able to walk right after. Either way, we're gonna have to wrap it up, and I still want to take a closer look at it."

You nodded as he took both of your hands in his, using those toned muscles you love so much to pull you gently from the floor. Once you were standing on your uninjured leg, Din tucked his hands under your arms to lift you up. You secured your legs around his waist, careful not to strain your ankle, and tightened your arms around his neck.

"Hold tight while I'm going down the ladder, okay?" he said and rubbed his hand over your spine in a soothing motion.

You hummed in understanding, nestling your face into your favorite spot between his pauldron and helmet. It was where you could smell him the most. Not the beskar steel, carbon scoring, and leather- but him. Earthy and a bit sweet.

"You smell good, Din," you mumbled after a deep inhale.

He started down the cockpit ladder, a chuckle rumbling in his chest but not coming through the modulator. "Well, I think you smell better."

"Can you smell me through the helmet?" you asked curiously.

Now that he was safely on the floor again, your Mandalorian placed one of his hands back on your hip and squeezed. "Yes." A moment later, he added, "Donar flower, jogan fruit, and vanilla."

You giggled. "Have you been studying my soap bottles?"

Din ignored your accusation. "And sometimes, after you wear one of my shirts to bed, you smell like me."

You planted a kiss on the side of his helmet and couldn't resist the urge to smile with that happy, bubbling feeling at the bottom of your lungs.

Din noticed your grin as he set you in a storage crate in the cargo hold, tilting his helmet at you. "Cyar'ika, somedays I think you're going to be the death of me." His fingertips brushed your hair behind your ear then followed your jawline back down to cup your chin. "Today is one of those days."

You laughed and watched as your Mandalorian walked away to find a medpac, admiring his backside. He didn't have his cape on today. "You know exactly how to make me feel better, don't you?"

"My job is to take care of you. That includes making you smile, cyar'ika." He paused to open one of the storage crates. "And I'm good at what I do."

Your heart melted again. "Best in the parsec," you joked back, referencing his bounty hunter title. If you were being honest, though, he was best across all the parsecs in the galaxy at making you happy.

He came back with a medpac and set it on the ground so he could remove your boot and sock. In doing so, he reduced his usually lethal strength to the carefullest touch you could imagine, and you were suddenly reminded of how much of a softie your Mandalorian could be.

When he finally rolled your sock off your heel, you grimaced at the sight. Your ankle was extremely bruised and swollen- blue, black, and purple spots running all the way down to the bottom of your heel. "That looks bad."

Din didn't respond, only ungloving his hand. "Tell me if it hurts."

You immediately tensed as he moved to grab your ankle, defensively placing your hands on his shoulders to get him to stop. "No, no, don't- don't touch it. Please."

"I have to see it's broken, cyar'ika. I can only take care of you if I know what's wrong."

You shook your head, lip quivering as you remembered the pain from when you stepped on it a few minutes earlier.

That visor stared back at you, hiding what you knew had to be a look of worry. You could just make out the shape of his furrowed brows through the dark glass. "Do you trust me?"

Din knew the answer to his question already. Of course, you trusted him. You trusted him with your life. "Ti an ner kar'ta," you whispered, withdrawing your hands from his shoulders even as your pulse rose in anticipation of the pain.

"So brave, sweet girl." He took your foot in his hands, and you relaxed when there wasn't any sudden pain. He reminded you again to let him know if it hurts.

Your Mandalorian carefully guided your foot to the right, then the left. It didn't hurt, so you didn't make a sound, but that blank visor focused on you for a few moments before he turned it again. This time, he slowly rotated the joint around in a circle. To you surprise, it didn't hurt as much as you expected it to. When your foot was in a flexed position, it pinched a bit, which you told him, but that was it.

"It's not broken," Din confirmed. "It might be sprained, but I think the worst of the pain is coming from a bursted blood vessel." He pointed at the discolored skin. "That's what all this bruising is from, and the extra pressure and swelling is pushing on your nerves."

You let out a shaky breath you didn't know you were holding while Din opened two bacta patches, kneeling in front of you. He applied one to the front of your ankle and one to the back.

"Thank you."

"Ti ori'emuur, sweet girl," he replied, though his helmet was still tilted toward your foot. "Ni kar'tayl gaar darasuum." He secured the bacta patches with a wrap, then put your sock back on.

When he stood, you reached out with your hands, silently begging him for one of his bear hugs. He was never one to turn down your physical affections, knowing how much they meant to you even if they were still unfamiliar to him, so he naturally moved forward, standing between your thighs. You laid your forehead on his cuirass and closed your eyes, content in his encompassing warmth.

"Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum."

Translations (Mando'a - English) cyar'ika - darling ti an ner kar'ta - with all my heart ti ori'emuur - with great pleasure ni kar'tayl gaar darasuum - I love you (lit. I know you forever)

masterlist

[zerstorerin]

The Mandalorian One-Shots:

Care — Din takes care of your sprained ankle, and you are reminded of how much of a softie the space warrior really is.

Broken Vow — Mando doesn’t come back to the ship, so you go looking for him.

Broken Vow (Bonus Scene) — Mando confronts the reader about what they said when they were stitching him up the previous night.