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undercoverpena · 19 hours

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i’d look for you

din djarin x f!reader | masterlist

summary: din offers you something else in a field of wildflowers

warnings: 18+, allusion to smut ONLY. soft!din. idiots who have feelings but don't know what to do with them. jo's writing din so it gets weirdly poetic again. wordcount: 2k notes: pairing is the same as other din fics by me. but don’t need to read to enjoy. written for @morallyinept's Flora & Fauna Challenge - this fic has made me smile so much, I hope it does the same for you.

“Can you do something for me?”

The question hangs, burns, in the air of his bed. Your eyes blinking awake, having been roused from slumber by his gloved hand on your cheek.

You’re aware he’s waiting, biting the inside of your cheek, as you nod.

Swallowing the longer answer which burns on your tongue, finding it now tastes of acid and wrongness, having been trapped inside for so long, having let it overstay its welcome.

You suspect he knows it all anyway. Likely as easily able to read you, as you are him. Able to hear the words you don’t say, just from the way you stare at him, like a written passage all on its own.

He helps you up, but doesn’t hurry you. You almost smirk at the purposeful, cautious touches on your side, trailing his gloved hand along the curve of your back as he leads you to the refresher, awakening thoughts more sinful than you suspect is his intention.

It’s then he tells you the time, but shares nothing else about why the ship is quiet.

“What about��”

“He’s asleep.”

Your mouth clamps shut, taking the clothes he hands you as you bury the rest of the questions. Each piece you slide on, you don’t shy away as he stands waiting. Letting him stare, letting him take in the sight of you in more light than he can when your bodies usually writhe.

Are you admiring me, Din? you want to ask. Do you feel the invisible string between us too?

Sometimes, you dislike that he told you the shade of his eyes, because you look for them. Peer through the visor with more hope than you’d allowed yourself to have before.

“Can you turn around?”

It should sound like a command, but his tone is softer, more brittle. Something unspoken within it, tightening around each letter, bending and forging with it—likely things he’ll never admit.

Still, you obey. Closing your eyes as you feel him behind you, his presence crowding and looming—recollecting when he’d been barer than he is now, draped over you.

If you will it enough, you swear you can feel his breath fluttering over your shoulder—remembering how he makes you feel full and sated, content and happy. The last time, you’d been in a haze, fucked out, blissfully aware of the naked fingers resting at the base of your neck as you came down and the way he had tilted your head back and swallowed your whine like he knew it belonged to him.

You do, you think, belong to him.

Not because he has taken, but because he has earned—he has proven. A thing which rises to the tip of your tongue and sears alongside the other words which linger and ferment.

“Trust me,” he says.

Not a question, but an ask. And you don’t mean to, but an unintentional gasp escapes at the feel of the soft, smooth fabric when it slides over your eyes. Light fades as though he clicks his fingers, blanketing you in night in the middle of the day as it tightens around your head—rendering you quiet, shyer, almost smaller, as your sense is removed, willingly given but taken all the same.

Then you stand, breath hitching, anticipation threading through your veins as you wait. For him to move, to speak, to do. Each second stretches into eternity, making a protest wish to appear. A change of mind, a declaration of wishing to do something else, than this.

But, you don’t speak it. Instead, dancing your fingers against the tops of your thighs, waiting, not patiently, but not rushing.

“Relax.”

You snort to smother the shiver that darts down your spine at his voice.

Unsure how one does such a thing when you hear the ramp going down, subtly listening to the sound of water running. You feel lost, adrift in a sea of darkness—of nothingness—with every fibre of your being yearning for a familiar anchor, teeth rolling over your bottom lip as you fight the urge to whisper his name into the void, a silent plea for reassurance amidst the engulfing uncertainty.

Din, you think.

Wondering if he can hear his name in your mind. If he’ll come to your calling, hold your hand; allow you to ask if this is necessary, if this—

“Breathe.”

And you do.

Chest filling, lungs flooding—his gloved fingers sliding between your bare ones, rooting you as he repeats it. Calmness spreads through you inch by inch, in the same way he makes pleasure surge through your muscles.

He gives you a minute, a moment. Likely waiting until your head turns in the direction you think he’s in, before he leads, offering stony orders to be careful—one that almost makes you grin until your steps take your soles to meet something softer than his ship.

The smell greets you first. It’s crisp and sweet—unlike anything you’ve encountered. Then the drizzle, how it forces your clothing to bind to your skin in a way that should feel suffocating, but instead feels freeing. Lips beginning to stretch, teeth showing as your cheeks ache with the intensity of your grin.

It’s then you feel him move behind you, the squelch of his boots signifying it. His chest meets your spine, the ghost of his touch along the side of his neck, before you feel the fabric over your eyes, loosen and light begins to seep in.

Then, it goes from nothing to everything. It being almost too much to take in all at once—the unveiled surprise, the thing he’d wanted you to see in its wonder and not in pieces as you descended.

And—

“It’s beautiful.”

It being the delicate blooms that stretch out before you. Each one a mysterious burst of colour against a backdrop of greenery. Vibrant splashes of colour, all wild and free, rising from the ground like the scenes from books you used to read. With each sway and ripple in the breeze, you spot more flowers. All of them stirred by the falling rain, watching each motion, all in awe; lost for words.

Distantly, you become aware that he’s moved to the side of you, but you’re unable to tear your eyes from the world. Not able to take your sight from the striking array of hues, every colour flower you think you could ever imagine swaying. Because there are iridescent blues and purples; there are some that glow with luminous gold and reds that look stained with blood. Shares you can’t even name, but are drawn to, reluctant to steal your gaze until you spot another.

Fingers reaching out, knee bending, you touch one, find it softer, more delicate than you ever thought. Tears springing to your eyes, chest swarmed with warmth as you admire the way the stems twist and spiral in graceful arcs, all beaded with the sparkling mist that continues to fall.

“What do you think?”

“It’s…”

Words fail you, a thing you’re not sure he could ever believe.

The only conscious thought is that you wish to live amongst them. No words exist that can describe how serene you feel; how as wild or as drenched as the petals you admire.

Because it’s then you really notice the rain, coming to sit amongst the living and the flowers. Ground soaked with it, it falling in torrents. Each droplet is a percussion against your skin, seeping through the layers and soaking you to the bone.

It's a different kind of loveliness. It’s all free, raw and unyielding, a mosaic of shades that aren't bowing or converting into a glistening canvas of liquid silver—even if the skies try to.

In truth, you thought you’d seen rain. But this is something different.

It is more akin to the sky having been ripped open, split in two, cracked, all but pouring its tears upon the land in a symphony of water and wind. Your fingers dig into the dirt, feeling his equally soaked thigh press against yours as he joins you, feeling him watching, studying, even if you can't see his eyes.

“My mom used to say that a flower sprouts when a person leaves us,” you say, soft, barely your normal volume. “I always wondered where they did—I guess I know now.”

Shifting, you peel your sight from the flowers to see his legs extended, his body so close to yours. So much so, it would be easy to lean into it. Into him. To press your drenched clothing against his equally drowned frame, seek warmth, and take what he will offer you in the brightness of the day.

“Din,” you continue, tuning in to the gruff noise he makes for you to continue, as you move your shoulder closer.

His head turns, the front of his helmet facing you.

Allowing you to see a bead slide gracefully down the silver, moving like a serene symphony—as others fall, and then another. All being left by the sky above, weaving paths you wish to trace with your fingers.

You shouldn’t, but you want to wipe each away with your touch, rest your palms against the places his cheeks should be and will your hands to remember the warmth you know they can be.

“Can you remember the last time you felt the rain on your bare skin?”

Silence. Rain slides against leaves before rolling down to the soil below. The sound increases and decreases in odd waves as the storm tries to square itself against the sun, against the blossoms which rise like an army unwilling to cower.

“No.”

His reply is rough, croaked out through the modulator—caked in openness you’re not sure he wishes to show.

And, it makes a memory resurface. Sharp and clear. The first time you’d felt him unmasked, the vulnerability etched into his features—frame tense, rigid. Nervousness flowed through him as easily as the blood that races. How you’d kissed him, felt his cracked lips gain confidence against yours as his muscles rippled under your palms.

In a different way than then, you reached out, offered comfort—providing something you’re not sure he easily is given.

“A person could get lost here,” you sigh, the words practically tumbling out.

A stillness follows, one only punctuated by the rain. That is, until he shifts, until you hear him exhale, before adding, “Not you.”

Dragging your eyes from the landscape, you watch as more droplets slide and skate down his helmet, against his armour. Desperate to cling. It’s nothing but mesmerising, making him appear like he’s made of the sky. Reflections of the flowers there, muted shades mirroring.

“No?”

He’s silent for a moment. Just one. “Wouldn’t let you. I’d find you.”

Smirking, you turn back to the view. “You’re good at that—practically a professional.”

He allows a beat, lets your shoulder settle against him—the heels of your boots digging into the ground of this place, hoping a little bit clings on and comes with you.

“I’d look for you.”

Breaking your gaze from the flowers and the falling rain, you rest them on his helmet. On him. On the space you think the brown eyes he’s told you about are currently watching you.

It’s slow to appear, taking its time to spread up into your cheek as the implication of his words ring out. Look, not find; search but not hunt.

“I wouldn’t run to begin with.”

You feel it, the shift, slight tilt of his head at your words.

And you swear you hear him breathe good, light almost airy—before gloved fingers find their way between yours again. Soaked, sodden. But neither moving as seconds become minutes.

“Cyar'ika?”

You hum, preening, almost blooming under the name he’s just begun using. Nestling further against him, watching the flowers sway and turn in the rain before his gloved hands come in front of you—a bunch of flowers held out to you, offered, given.

“My hair is brown too.”

You smile, taking the bunch, bringing them to your nose. “That’s nice to know.”

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin fic #din djarin x you #mando x reader #mando x you #mando x f!reader #din djarin fanfic #din djarin #din djarin x reader smut #pedro pascal fic #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x f!reader #jettsflora&faunachallenge #the mandalorian x female reader #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin fanfiction

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kaaya-d · 2 days

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#star wars #star wars fanart #the mandalorian #dinluke #luke skywalker #din djarin #grogu #clan of three

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dindjarindiaries · 1 day

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🚨 STOP 🚨

This is a Star Wars-dilf-to-a-child-who’s-technically-older-than-them checkpoint.

You must reblog this with a picture of Din Djarin and Hunter Bad Batch to continue.

#this is very important #🤠🤠🤠#din djarin #tbb hunter #the mandalorian #the bad batch

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adragonsfriend · 3 days

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Not having watched any of the Disney shows and being on tumblr is hilarious because scrolling my dash is like,

“Ahsoka is the best show in the world, such feelings, her character arc is so deep and here’s why it’s a beautiful continuation from clone wars—”

“—stupid fucking nostalgia bait, totally destroyed her character by completely ignoring her character arc in clone wars to make her into a Jedi hating sad face—”

“Kenobi was soooo good for Obi-Wan and Anakin's characters I cannot breathe--this fight, that fight, the fire, omg. devastating—”

“—pacing was shit, the story was mid at best, they had to have anakin state obiwan's character arc out loud??? reva's arc was pretty cool. anyway here's my twelve step plan for how i would've—”

“Din saw grogu and was like ‘adoption papers please’ omg so cute! Mandalorians are such parents; dilf! dilf! dilf! di—”

“—wish everyone would stop forgetting it took like ten seasons for Din to stop trying to pawn grogu off on passing strangers—”

And genuinely I'm willing to be convinced by any and all of these ideas at any given moment.

#star wars #disney star wars #ahsoka series #kenobi series #the mandalorian #ahsoka tano #obi wan kenobi #anakin skywalker #din djarin #grogu

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ollikah · 6 hours

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May 24 weekend is the usual kick off to cottage/summer season, people are headed north to the lakes and I enjoyed today's sunshine (and yes I had my sunscreen on!)

#ollikah makes some art #star wars #the mandalorian #din djarin #grogu

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joebidensdementia · 1 day

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Correct me if I'm wrong

Star Wars: the power of love (romantic)

Star Trek: the power of love (friendship)

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fhatbhabiee · 17 hours

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Like Real People Do

Din Djarin x Reader

word count: 600

warnings: light smut, fluff, happy ending

note: inspired by the song that's been stuck in my head for the past month- Like Real People Do by Hozier. also i'd like to dedicate this to my beautiful friend @beskarandblasters 💕

He was so perfect. The small gestures he'd make, the way he protects you when you go out into town, the beautiful words he'd whisper to you when you're in bed together - but you still haven't seen his face. Ever since you both settled down, all you ever wanted was to see his face. Touch his cheeks, kiss the tip of his nose when he wakes up in the mornings, and most importantly kiss him.

You'd kiss the coolness of his helmet, right where his cheeks would be but that's about it. You wanted more. You wanted to press your lips against his- feel his tongue explore your mouth while you tangled your fingers in his hair - if he even has hair. You still didn't know if he did. You never bugged him about it, knowing what it meant if he took his helmet off, but you didn't understand. He loves you right? Why can't he show you the man under the helmet?

One night you got the courage to ask.

It was a rather hot night - he was laying behind you with his arm wrapped around your waist, fingers slipping in and out of your wet cunt as your moans filled the room. Denying yourself the orgasm he had been building up for the last 20 minutes, you pulled his hand away and straddled his waist.

“Kiss me.”

“Cyar’ika…”

“Din please.” you whined. “I wanna feel your lips against mine.”

“I can't.”

You let out a small frustrating sigh and got off his lap, quickly slipping your pajama shorts back on and walked out of the bedroom. You walked into the kitchen and poured yourself a glass of cold water before chugging it all in one sitting.

Was it such a bad thing that all you wanted to do was kiss him?

Was it such a bad thing to want to kiss your partner?

You heard his heavy footsteps making their way to the kitchen, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“Can we talk?” he muttered, the sound of his voice through the modulator made you wanna throw something but you gave him a quick nod. “Can you look at me?” you crossed your arms over your chest and faced him.

The look on your face broke his heart. You looked a bit mad but more sad than anything.

“I've known this way my entire life. Not letting anyone see my face- not taking the helmet off unless I was alone.”

“Din you don't get it. I don't care that you keep it on - I respect what you believe in. But I'm tired of kissing beskar, I want to kiss like real people do.”

He let out a small sigh and walked away. You felt the tears building up but all of a sudden the light in the kitchen went out.

“Great.” you muttered, making your way to the light switch only to feel someone grab your hand. You knew it was Din, the calluses on his hand gave it away. That and no one else lived in the house.

He gently pulled you back into the kitchen, picking you up by the waist and setting you down on the counter.

“Din-” he cut you off by placing his lips against yours. You melted into his touch, placing your hands on his cheeks and smiling at the patchy beard you felt underneath your fingertips. You felt the tip of his nose pressed up against your cheekbone, mind wandering at what miracles he could work with that thing.

He pulled away slightly, resting his forehead on yours. “Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum…”

beta'd: @clawdee & @iron-strangers <3

divider: @saradika-graphics

Masterlist

#din djarin x reader #din djarin #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #tw smut #star wars fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

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beskarandblasters · 2 days

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You’re the Loss of My Life

Din Djarin x F!Reader

Main Masterlist | Din Djarin Masterlist

Author’s note: I got really sad last night and cranked this out. To all my angst lovers, I hope you enjoy.

Summary: You reminisce on your time with your riduur after his death.

Word count: 770

Warnings: whole lotta angst, fluff in the form of memories, riduur = spouse, talks of death

“And I’ll still see it until I die, you’re the loss of my life”

You thought he was invincible. Your big strong bounty hunter turned loving riduur seemed indestructible.

You had a simple life, living in your quiet home on Nevarro. You never thought you’d be the one to enjoy a domestic lifestyle. But you quickly learned that as long as you had Din and Grogu, life would be complete.

Your favorite days were spent watching Din chase Grogu around the backyard or observing Grogu levitate countless amounts of frogs from the pond. You and Din would share a laugh, remarking about how this was the perfect place for him. He would tell you how there was no one else wanted by his side, raising his son.

Not all of your favorite moments were spent at home, though. You loved venturing out to the marketplace as a family of three, shopping for groceries for the week, and inevitably buying Grogu a toy that caught his eye. Din would playfully scold you for spoiling the kid and you had to gently remind him that he does the same.

But those days are gone. When Bo-Katan and the Armorer returned, pleading for help because of an attack on Mandalore, he couldn’t say no. That night he was packing his things and preparing the Starfighter for takeoff. You leaned in the doorway and said, “Who would be foolish enough to attack Mandalorians?”

“They’re still getting their footing on Mandalore,” he gently reminded you, “They’re left more vulnerable than ever, with no communication with the rest of the galaxy.”

“You’re an honorable man, Din Djarin.”

He walked over to you and took his hands in yours, promising you that he’d be home soon.

“Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum,” he whispered. You never got used to hearing him utter those words.

“Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum,” you repeated.

And then he was gone. That was the last time you ever saw him.

His absence was a waking nightmare. Combined with the lack of communication, you felt like you were going crazy. You spent many sleepless nights pacing the empty house as Grogu slept soundly. But then you chastised yourself for being so worried. Din’s the bravest and strongest man you’ve ever known. He’d come back home to you.

But when Bo-Katan’s ship landed in your yard two weeks later, you knew something had gone awry. She walked to your door with her head hung low, an uneasy expression on her face. A pit formed in your stomach and you feared the worst.

You don’t remember how she told you he died in battle. The world distorted around you, her voice drowning out into white noise. Your world had been technicolor the day you met Din. But once he died everything turned shades of black and white, an abysmal existence left in the wake of his demise.

Your mind raced with fear, wondering how you were going to raise Grogu alone. But soon the thoughts turned darker quickly.

What was his death like? Was it painful? Did he suffer? Was he thinking of you and your little family as he took his dying breath?

For months, the thought of him dying plagued your mind. Every time you closed your eyes all you could do was picture his lifeless body. You feared that this is what every day would be like for the rest of your life, consumed by the insurmountable grief his death left you with.

Bo-Katan was sure to return his armor to you but ever since she gave it back it’s been sitting at the bottom of your closet. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at it.

But one day as you’re looking for one of Grogu’s many toys, you work up the courage to look at just his helmet. You sit on the floor of your once-shared bedroom and stroke your thumb against the hollow part of where his cheek would be. Memories flash by, countless nights where you spent tangled up in the bunk of the Razor Crest, staring directly into his T-shaped visor. But soon your memory is poisoned by the haunting image of his death once more. Normally you give in and let it happen, letting the grief consume you.

But not today. You blink back tears and think of the first meal you had in this house together. His helmet was off and the sunlight poured in from the kitchen window, illuminating his eyes into a brilliant shade of amber. He smiled and thanked you for making dinner, reaching across the table to grab your hand. His thumb stroked yours as Grogu babbled away happily.

That’s how you'll choose to remember him from now on.

End note: Thank you to @clawdee and @iron-strangers for looking this over for me!

Fic notifs: @beskarandblastersfics

Dividers: @saradika-graphics

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin drabble #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin x you #din djarin angst #din djarin x female reader #pedrostories #star wars fanfiction #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fanfiction

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