Jem | she/her | 🇬🇧 | writer | 43 In love with Din Djarin (👉🏻 other Pedro boys) Tumblr Masterlist | AO3 Masterlist 🔞 Minors DNI – explicit content 🔞 Join my tag list
A novel-length secret relationship story set after season 3, with an original plot, worldbuilding, and fully developed characterisation.
Summary: A risky decision traps an injured Din Djarin with Greef Karga’s adoptive niece for a fifteen-day lockdown, during which something steamy yet short-term evolves in secret. But ending it when the lockdown lifts isn’t as easy as either party thought, and there are many obstacles to navigate when everyday life starts up again.
Rating: Explicit (18+)
Pairing: Din Djarin x OFC!Reader (she’s physically a blank slate but has a canon-compliant background, so she’s you if you were born in the Star Wars Universe)
Word Count: TBC (>100k words in 16 chapters)
Author’s Note: This fic started as a oneshot for @burntheedges’s Roll-A-Trope Writing Challenge in August 2024, but it accidentally turned into a novel – oops! It took me so long to write and edit (21 months!) because I’ve genuinely slaved over it. After I finished the first draft, I took some writing classes, then went back and edited every single word to get it perfect. It’s turned into something I’m really proud of, so I hope you enjoy! As always, concepts and lore are accurately researched to satisfy Star Wars nerds but also referenced/explained to ensure those less familiar with the franchise can enjoy and understand everything, too.
*** FULLY WRITTEN, CHAPTERS RELEASED EVERY THIRD SATURDAY ***
Please feel free to JOIN MY TAG LIST or lmk in the comments if you’d like a tag for this fic only.
Chapter 1: In The Mood For Solitude [AO3]
Chapter 2: Armless, But Never Harmless [AO3]
Chapter 3: Confidential Potential [AO3]
Chapter 4: Built To Uncover Our Guilt [coming 25-Jul-26]
Chapter 5: It’s My Purview To Serve You
Chapter 6: Secret Sex Isn’t Complex
Chapter 7 (part 1): My Undercover Lover
Chapter 7 (part 2): Exceptions and Deceptions
Chapter 8: Keep Going, It’s Mindblowing
Chapter 9: Guess What I Heard, Little Bird
Chapter 10: Encore! So Much More In Store
Chapter 11 (part 1): Don’t Smirk, I Work Here, You Jerk
A novel-length secret relationship story set after season 3, with an original plot, worldbuilding, and fully developed characterisation.
Summary: A risky decision traps an injured Din Djarin with Greef Karga’s adoptive niece for a fifteen-day lockdown, during which something steamy yet short-term evolves in secret. But ending it when the lockdown lifts isn’t as easy as either party thought, and there are many obstacles to navigate when everyday life starts up again.
Rating: Explicit (18+)
Pairing: Din Djarin x OFC!Reader (she’s physically a blank slate but has a canon-compliant background, so she’s you if you were born in the Star Wars Universe)
Word Count: TBC (>100k words in 16 chapters)
Author’s Note: This fic started as a oneshot for @burntheedges’s Roll-A-Trope Writing Challenge in August 2024, but it accidentally turned into a novel – oops! It took me so long to write and edit (21 months!) because I’ve genuinely slaved over it. After I finished the first draft, I took some writing classes, then went back and edited every single word to get it perfect. It’s turned into something I’m really proud of, so I hope you enjoy! As always, concepts and lore are accurately researched to satisfy Star Wars nerds but also referenced/explained to ensure those less familiar with the franchise can enjoy and understand everything, too.
*** FULLY WRITTEN, CHAPTERS RELEASED EVERY THIRD SATURDAY ***
Please feel free to JOIN MY TAG LIST or lmk in the comments if you’d like a tag for this fic only.
Chapter 1: In The Mood For Solitude [AO3]
Chapter 2: Armless, But Never Harmless [AO3]
Chapter 3: Confidential Potential [AO3]
Chapter 4: Built To Uncover Our Guilt [coming 25-Jul-26]
Chapter 5: It’s My Purview To Serve You
Chapter 6: Secret Sex Isn’t Complex
Chapter 7 (part 1): My Undercover Lover
Chapter 7 (part 2): Exceptions and Deceptions
Chapter 8: Keep Going, It’s Mindblowing
Chapter 9: Guess What I Heard, Little Bird
Chapter 10: Encore! So Much More In Store
Chapter 11 (part 1): Don’t Smirk, I Work Here, You Jerk
Chapter summary: Tending to the Mandalorian’s wounds, you inadvertently learn what he’s hiding beneath all that armour, and temptation becomes hard to resist.
Rating: Explicit (18+).
Chapter word count: 5,700
Chapter tags/warnings: OFC!Reader’s POV; graphic descriptions of injuries and medical care; flirting; oral sex – male receiving; Din managing a unique combo of dominant words and subby actions.
Author’s Note: Thanks for your support and patience while I polish off the edits to each chapter before posting – I want this fic to be as perfect as possible. Also huge thanks to @wrathkitty for her invaluable input on this one! 🙏🏻😘 Okay, we’re switching POVs back to OFC!Reader for your first taste of smut. Detailed notes at the end as always! Every single reply and reblog makes my heart sing (as do comments and kudos over on AO3). 💖
Mando’s bicep tenses as you slice away another fragment of melted flight suit, angling the sterilised scalpel to take only dead and blistered skin with it. It feels like you’ve been at this for hours already, and you can still barely believe you’re doing it.
Once your anger at his reckless actions had thawed, a rising panic soon replaced it. Overwhelmed, you’d resorted to your default coping strategy: bossiness. That familiar mask had helped until he’d bitten back with a threat that would’ve ended badly for you both. With his recovery contingent on earning his trust, you’d had to switch tactics.
Letting a hunter see your vulnerable side was a risk, but it had paid off. You’d matched honour with respect, and now that you’ve cracked that shell, your panic is slowly giving way to increasing sympathy. He seems… nice. You’re no longer performing this task out of necessity alone, and the genuine desire to help him adds confidence to your movements. It’s even allowed you to find a rhythm of sorts in your macabre work.
To his credit, Mando is a model patient, enduring his gruesome treatment with impressive fortitude. You’d predicted more of a fuss, but muscle twitches and sharp breaths are your only clues he’s feeling anything at all. Perhaps the bounty hunting life toughened him up. Nonetheless, you pay careful attention to his tells; you’d rather know if you’re slicing too deep.
Peeling away a congealed mess of skin and coarseweave from his inner elbow elicits a long exhale. He must’ve been holding his breath for this last one. You squirt saline over the freshly scraped wound, watching his fingers curl into a loose fist against the floor. They relax as you seal the bacta patch’s edges, concluding your treatment of his arms.
“Still doing okay?” you ask, searching the black visor for any hint of what might be happening behind it.
He dips his helmet in response, maintaining the silence he’s been cultivating since you helped him drink. Despite his earlier dry throat, he was borderline chatty throughout the prep stage, somewhat quelling your nerves. Now, the contrasting absence of dialogue feels palpable. You pray it’s just gritted teeth keeping him quiet, not regret at being stuck here with you.
With his arms taken care of, you reach for the vibroblade again and clear your throat. “I need to…” You trail off as you gesture toward his legs. “Is this still okay?”
Mando nods again, a sharper jerk that betrays his own discomfort, his muscles rippling with it.
Taking a deep breath to dispel your own misgivings about stripping a man you’ve only just met, you begin cutting. The outer seams of his pants part easily, no match for the humming blade. Now for the awkward part.
As soon as you lean in close to cut around the wounds, the tension climbs rapidly. Your knuckles brush against his bare thigh, and you feel the muscle jump beneath your touch. “Sorry,” you murmur, though you’re not entirely sure what for. He doesn’t reply.
Finally, the garment falls away, revealing golden skin patterned with scars. A map of past battles etches its way across gorgeously toned thighs, now freshly marred by blistered, debris-filled welts.
You swallow hard and try to focus on his wounds, but you can’t tear your eyes from the sculpted terrain of his legs and the insight it offers. An athlete’s strength. A warrior’s endurance. A human’s limitations. It’s a welcome distraction from the grim knowledge that you have yet more patches of fused flesh and fabric to excise.
Smearing on the bacta gel strains the atmosphere even further. Suddenly, you can’t seem to distinguish between a soothing motion and a sensual one. Aiming for clinically professional, you smooth the salve across the large burn near Mando’s groin, but your attention keeps drifting to the impressive bulge only centimetres away beneath his black undershorts.
That’s definitely not a blaster.
CONTINUE READING THIS CHAPTER ON AO3
Please feel free to JOIN MY TAG LIST or lmk in the comments if you’d like a tag for this fic only.
Chapter summary: Tending to the Mandalorian’s wounds, you inadvertently learn what he’s hiding beneath all that armour, and temptation becomes hard to resist.
Rating: Explicit (18+).
Chapter word count: 5,700
Chapter tags/warnings: OFC!Reader’s POV; graphic descriptions of injuries and medical care; flirting; oral sex – male receiving; Din managing a unique combo of dominant words and subby actions.
Author’s Note: Thanks for your support and patience while I polish off the edits to each chapter before posting – I want this fic to be as perfect as possible. Also huge thanks to @wrathkitty for her invaluable input on this one! 🙏🏻😘 Okay, we’re switching POVs back to OFC!Reader for your first taste of smut. Detailed notes at the end as always! Every single reply and reblog makes my heart sing (as do comments and kudos over on AO3). 💖
Mando’s bicep tenses as you slice away another fragment of melted flight suit, angling the sterilised scalpel to take only dead and blistered skin with it. It feels like you’ve been at this for hours already, and you can still barely believe you’re doing it.
Once your anger at his reckless actions had thawed, a rising panic soon replaced it. Overwhelmed, you’d resorted to your default coping strategy: bossiness. That familiar mask had helped until he’d bitten back with a threat that would’ve ended badly for you both. With his recovery contingent on earning his trust, you’d had to switch tactics.
Letting a hunter see your vulnerable side was a risk, but it had paid off. You’d matched honour with respect, and now that you’ve cracked that shell, your panic is slowly giving way to increasing sympathy. He seems… nice. You’re no longer performing this task out of necessity alone, and the genuine desire to help him adds confidence to your movements. It’s even allowed you to find a rhythm of sorts in your macabre work.
To his credit, Mando is a model patient, enduring his gruesome treatment with impressive fortitude. You’d predicted more of a fuss, but muscle twitches and sharp breaths are your only clues he’s feeling anything at all. Perhaps the bounty hunting life toughened him up. Nonetheless, you pay careful attention to his tells; you’d rather know if you’re slicing too deep.
Peeling away a congealed mess of skin and coarseweave from his inner elbow elicits a long exhale. He must’ve been holding his breath for this last one. You squirt saline over the freshly scraped wound, watching his fingers curl into a loose fist against the floor. They relax as you seal the bacta patch’s edges, concluding your treatment of his arms.
“Still doing okay?” you ask, searching the black visor for any hint of what might be happening behind it.
He dips his helmet in response, maintaining the silence he’s been cultivating since you helped him drink. Despite his earlier dry throat, he was borderline chatty throughout the prep stage, somewhat quelling your nerves. Now, the contrasting absence of dialogue feels palpable. You pray it’s just gritted teeth keeping him quiet, not regret at being stuck here with you.
With his arms taken care of, you reach for the vibroblade again and clear your throat. “I need to…” You trail off as you gesture toward his legs. “Is this still okay?”
Mando nods again, a sharper jerk that betrays his own discomfort, his muscles rippling with it.
Taking a deep breath to dispel your own misgivings about stripping a man you’ve only just met, you begin cutting. The outer seams of his pants part easily, no match for the humming blade. Now for the awkward part.
As soon as you lean in close to cut around the wounds, the tension climbs rapidly. Your knuckles brush against his bare thigh, and you feel the muscle jump beneath your touch. “Sorry,” you murmur, though you’re not entirely sure what for. He doesn’t reply.
Finally, the garment falls away, revealing golden skin patterned with scars. A map of past battles etches its way across gorgeously toned thighs, now freshly marred by blistered, debris-filled welts.
You swallow hard and try to focus on his wounds, but you can’t tear your eyes from the sculpted terrain of his legs and the insight it offers. An athlete’s strength. A warrior’s endurance. A human’s limitations. It’s a welcome distraction from the grim knowledge that you have yet more patches of fused flesh and fabric to excise.
Smearing on the bacta gel strains the atmosphere even further. Suddenly, you can’t seem to distinguish between a soothing motion and a sensual one. Aiming for clinically professional, you smooth the salve across the large burn near Mando’s groin, but your attention keeps drifting to the impressive bulge only centimetres away beneath his black undershorts.
That’s definitely not a blaster.
CONTINUE READING THIS CHAPTER ON AO3
Please feel free to JOIN MY TAG LIST or lmk in the comments if you’d like a tag for this fic only.
Chapter summary: Tending to the Mandalorian’s wounds, you inadvertently learn what he’s hiding beneath all that armour, and temptation becomes hard to resist.
Rating: Explicit (18+).
Chapter word count: 5,700
Chapter tags/warnings: OFC!Reader’s POV; graphic descriptions of injuries and medical care; flirting; oral sex – male receiving; Din managing a unique combo of dominant words and subby actions.
Author’s Note: Thanks for your support and patience while I polish off the edits to each chapter before posting – I want this fic to be as perfect as possible. Also huge thanks to @wrathkitty for her invaluable input on this one! 🙏🏻😘 Okay, we’re switching POVs back to OFC!Reader for your first taste of smut. Detailed notes at the end as always! Every single reply and reblog makes my heart sing (as do comments and kudos over on AO3). 💖
Mando’s bicep tenses as you slice away another fragment of melted flight suit, angling the sterilised scalpel to take only dead and blistered skin with it. It feels like you’ve been at this for hours already, and you can still barely believe you’re doing it.
Once your anger at his reckless actions had thawed, a rising panic soon replaced it. Overwhelmed, you’d resorted to your default coping strategy: bossiness. That familiar mask had helped until he’d bitten back with a threat that would’ve ended badly for you both. With his recovery contingent on earning his trust, you’d had to switch tactics.
Letting a hunter see your vulnerable side was a risk, but it had paid off. You’d matched honour with respect, and now that you’ve cracked that shell, your panic is slowly giving way to increasing sympathy. He seems… nice. You’re no longer performing this task out of necessity alone, and the genuine desire to help him adds confidence to your movements. It’s even allowed you to find a rhythm of sorts in your macabre work.
To his credit, Mando is a model patient, enduring his gruesome treatment with impressive fortitude. You’d predicted more of a fuss, but muscle twitches and sharp breaths are your only clues he’s feeling anything at all. Perhaps the bounty hunting life toughened him up. Nonetheless, you pay careful attention to his tells; you’d rather know if you’re slicing too deep.
Peeling away a congealed mess of skin and coarseweave from his inner elbow elicits a long exhale. He must’ve been holding his breath for this last one. You squirt saline over the freshly scraped wound, watching his fingers curl into a loose fist against the floor. They relax as you seal the bacta patch’s edges, concluding your treatment of his arms.
“Still doing okay?” you ask, searching the black visor for any hint of what might be happening behind it.
He dips his helmet in response, maintaining the silence he’s been cultivating since you helped him drink. Despite his earlier dry throat, he was borderline chatty throughout the prep stage, somewhat quelling your nerves. Now, the contrasting absence of dialogue feels palpable. You pray it’s just gritted teeth keeping him quiet, not regret at being stuck here with you.
With his arms taken care of, you reach for the vibroblade again and clear your throat. “I need to…” You trail off as you gesture toward his legs. “Is this still okay?”
Mando nods again, a sharper jerk that betrays his own discomfort, his muscles rippling with it.
Taking a deep breath to dispel your own misgivings about stripping a man you’ve only just met, you begin cutting. The outer seams of his pants part easily, no match for the humming blade. Now for the awkward part.
As soon as you lean in close to cut around the wounds, the tension climbs rapidly. Your knuckles brush against his bare thigh, and you feel the muscle jump beneath your touch. “Sorry,” you murmur, though you’re not entirely sure what for. He doesn’t reply.
Finally, the garment falls away, revealing golden skin patterned with scars. A map of past battles etches its way across gorgeously toned thighs, now freshly marred by blistered, debris-filled welts.
You swallow hard and try to focus on his wounds, but you can’t tear your eyes from the sculpted terrain of his legs and the insight it offers. An athlete’s strength. A warrior’s endurance. A human’s limitations. It’s a welcome distraction from the grim knowledge that you have yet more patches of fused flesh and fabric to excise.
Smearing on the bacta gel strains the atmosphere even further. Suddenly, you can’t seem to distinguish between a soothing motion and a sensual one. Aiming for clinically professional, you smooth the salve across the large burn near Mando’s groin, but your attention keeps drifting to the impressive bulge only centimetres away beneath his black undershorts.
That’s definitely not a blaster.
CONTINUE READING THIS CHAPTER ON AO3
Please feel free to JOIN MY TAG LIST or lmk in the comments if you’d like a tag for this fic only.
Chapter summary: You jump at the chance to spend Nevarro’s annual fifteen-day winter lockdown at a secluded cabin instead of among the usual communal chaos, but your so-called quiet retreat turns out to be anything but restful.
Rating: Explicit (18+) overall, but mature for this chapter.
Chapter word count: 6,600
Chapter tags/warnings: OFC!Reader’s POV; worldbuilding; family dynamics; overprotective Karga; use of a nickname for OFC!Reader; Grogu being adorably well-behaved (except for when breakfast is unattended); deadly weather (snowed-in trope with a twist); panic-induced angst; major character injury; graphic descriptions of severe injuries; strong language.
Author’s Note: The female protagonist can be read as both a reader insert and an OC (she’s physically a blank slate but has a canon-compliant background). Odd-numbered chapters are from OFC!Reader’s POV, with you/your pronouns (written in the second person) and he’s referred to as Mando. Even-numbered chapters are from his POV, with she/her pronouns used for OFC!Reader (written in the third person) and he’s referred to as Din. He doesn’t know your/her real name, so he uses various nicknames for you/her throughout the story, both in his head and aloud, and Karga has his own nickname for you/her. As always, I’ve added detailed notes at the end.
The locals have a saying about Nevarro’s winters: “Three months of gloom, three weeks of doom.”
It’s no exaggeration.
As you hurry toward City Hall, daylight is dimming by the minute, and you can smell the forecasted doom on the wind. The volcanoes have been vomiting toxic sulphur clouds for weeks, rebelling against the crisp winter air and choking the sky. And their misery is about to become everyone’s problem.
You take a shortcut through the bazaar, checking your chrono and swearing at the readout. Just over an hour until lockdown. You shouldn’t have left it this late.
Behind you, a shopkeeper slams down his durasteel shutters, startling a nearby stall owner who is frantically packing up their own wares. A mother bustles past you, dragging her reluctant children toward shelter; one wails as it loses its toy in the rush. You curse again as you hastily sidestep a sweeper droid zooming down the middle of the street. Kriff, the countdown has forced even the non-sentients into a state of panic.
Every morning for weeks, the weather droid has been droning on about increased sulphur counts and plummeting temperatures. The whole city tunes in daily, but nobody really listens until the droid delivers the one forecast they’ve been dreading. Lockdown will begin tonight. Suddenly, Nevarrans can think of nothing but the brutal weather event they learned about as children and live through each year.
Snowfall.
For the next fifteen days, stepping outside means dying outside – in the deadly acid snow.
By now, most citizens have gathered in larger homes or public shelters for the compulsory lockdown, though only the old and the young go in smiling. The officials call it ‘communal bonding to boost morale’. You call it three weeks of psychological torture. The enforced proximity, the constant noise, the performative cheer. The total lack of privacy, with every opinion, argument, and bodily function becoming public knowledge. You can’t stand it.
But this year, you’ve scored your ticket out of that sweaty, noisy hell. A secluded cabin, stocked provisions, and blessed solitude during Snowfall. Credits for looking after some creature while its owner’s off-world. With minimal duties and total privacy, you’re kriffing thrilled with the assignment.
Your uncle, however, is not.
You figured he’d be sorry to lose you this year – perhaps a little worried about you being alone. But when you make it through the nervous crowds to his office at City Hall and finally break the news, the storm in his expression rivals the one brewing outside.
You drop your holdall at your feet and slap both palms down on his desk, leaning forward. “It’s more credits than I ever made at the cafe, for less work,” you exclaim, glaring at your overprotective guardian. “What’s your karking problem?”
He stands from his chair and rounds his desk in four heavy steps to loom over you. It’s the same bullish tactic he deployed when he caught you sneaking home reeking of Corellian whiskey at the tender age of fourteen. “My problem,” he retorts, voice lowering to a venomous pitch, “Is that I don’t want you anywhere near someone like him.”
CONTINUE READING THIS CHAPTER ON AO3
Please feel free to JOIN MY TAG LIST or lmk in the comments if you’d like a tag for this fic only.
What a great start! I already love our protagonist, especially how she handled Din coming back in the acid rain. Making sure to take care of him as soon as possible, but also making sure to get a good scolding in 😂
YASSS! So happy to have you along for this ride - it’s gonna be epic! And yup, she’s already proving to be exactly the feisty yet caring person Din never even knew he needed in his life 👀
Thank you so much for reading and reblogging, Kaitlin! 💖
Hi Friends. I hope June was good to you. It was a bit wild (but mostly good) for me. Below are the fics I read for the month of June.
If I have tagged you, and you would prefer to not be tagged, or have your works tagged, please let me know. A big thank you to each of you for sharing your works.
These works are 18+, minors DNI. Please read the tags on the fics before reading. If you read & enjoy let the author know! Leave a comment or a reblog!
Clint Flood
Call Me (September 1990) (October 1990) by @ak-vintage - Clint Flood x f!reader
Din Djarin / The Mandalorian
When a Feather-Light Touch is Agony by @bergamote-catsandbooks - Din Djarin x f!reader
Hush (Chapter 2 A03) by @djarins-cyare - Din Djarin x OFC!Reader
Frankie Morales
Frontier Hearts (Ch 4) (Ch 5) by @din-cognito - Frankie Morales x ofc
To Love Me Is To Suffer Me by @dreamedaboutitinthedark - Frankie Morales x Wife!Reader
Harry Castillo
A Baker's Dozen (Sixteen) by @avastrasposts - Harry Castillo x reader
Jack Daniels / Agent Whiskey
Jack & a Clown Costume by @ghoulettesinspace
Javi Gutierrez
Find A Man Who Can Do Both by @grogusmum - JAVI GUTIÉRREZ X F!READER
Javier Peña
Medium Well by @604to647 - Javier Peña x fem!reader
Here and Now (A03) by goodwithcheese - Javier Peña x ofc
Marcus Pike
run to you (ch 9) (ch 10)by @foli-vora - marcus pike x f!reader
The Way We Were Drawn (Ch 1) (Ch 2) by @ishabull - Marcus Pike x Reader
Reed Richards
Dirty move by @petalsinblood - Reed Richards x gn!reader
Crossovers
Seeing Double by @andrew-codys - Jack Abbot x F!Author!Reader x Grant Reilly
Dieter's First Yule by @quinnnfabrgay - dieter bravo x non-binary!reader x din djarin
Call of Duty
Heavy Weighs The Crown (A03) by @sentientcave - Fantasy AU. 2nd POV (OC Reader). 141 x Reader
captain john price x fem!141!reader by @warmfrequency
The Fifth Element (A03) by @the-californicationist -COD/Fallout Task Force 141/Reader Polyamory Fic
little milk on the tongue (ch 1)-(ch 5) by @anneofgreengabagool - john price x reader
fly, songbird, fly (A03) by pap3rtigers - Task Force 141 x Reader (omegaverse)
The Pitt
acute adoration (part iii) by @penvisions - Jack Abbot x F! Reader ;Michael "Robby" Robinavich x F! Reader ; Jack Abbot x F! Reader x Michael "Robby" Robinavich
These Walls Have Eyes by @asxgard - Dr. Jack Abbot x f!nurse!reader
Casual by @lovebugism - michael robinavitch / fem!reader, jack abbot / fem!reader
The Casting Couch - Michael “Robby” Robinavitch (P*rnstar AU) by @bullet-prooflove
I Think He Knows (AO3) by starallover Jack Abbot x reader
A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms
A Stag, A Doe, and a Hedge Knight (A03) by Huntress_Moon - Lyonel Baratheon x reader x Duncan the Tall
Franke Castle
no one knows by @foli-vora - frank castle x f!reader
Off Campus
Rich In Love by @666eyed - John Logan x Reader
someday, someday by @folkloure - john logan x reader
Author’s Note: Thanks for all the love for chapter 1! We are now switching POVs and jumping into Din’s head, which means this one’s written in the third-person. So just a reminder: in third-person POV, she/her pronouns are used for OFC!Reader, and he’s referred to as Din, not Mando (because he knows his own name). More detailed notes at the end! I massively appreciate any and all replies and reblogs, as well as comments and kudos over on AO3. Thank you 💖
Immobile and on his knees, Din seethes with a rage he has no way to release. His muscles scream at him to slam his fist through something solid – to channel this volcanic fury into action – but the slightest twitch sends liquid fire racing through his nerve endings. Trapped in his own body, his arms stiffly splayed like some malfunctioning droid kneeling before its Maker, he can only helplessly pant through his agony. A Mandalorian warrior reduced to feeble inaction.
The forced stillness only fuels his anger, creating a feedback loop of pain and impotent wrath that threatens to consume him as he stews over who deserves the brunt of his ire.
Colonel Ward’s face flashes in his mind. Even through the flickering lines of the holo, he could see her stony expression as she’d cancelled his job over the comm while he was still in orbit. His fists clench, sending fresh waves of pain up his arms as he recalls her impassive response of “Not my problem” when he’d explained Nevarro’s lockdown had already begun.
That’s on him, though. He should’ve checked in with her before he left. If he had, he wouldn’t be in this mess.
Then there’s the woman he’d hired to take care of Grogu. When he’d instructed her to arrive before sundown, he hadn’t meant with only minutes to spare. She’d offered some excuse about Karga delaying her but hadn’t explained why, and frankly, he hadn’t cared. With lockdown looming, he’d barked some instructions, then hauled ass to the N-1.
Though he must admit, his irritation faded the moment she transformed his intolerable agony into a more bearable torture. Her quick thinking with the limewater was impressive. She deserves his gratitude, even if she did just scold him with the same eerily calm authority the Armorer employs when dressing down a wayward tribe member.
Which leads Din back to the person most deserving of his fury: himself. For his own reckless stupidity.
Every Mandalorian child learns to read atmospheric conditions, and the cloud formations he could see from orbit had been textbook warning signs. Still, he’d checked planetary broadcasts, hoping he was wrong. As the embargo signal had blared through his cockpit, his fists had tightened around the control sticks, his teeth clenching behind his helmet. Three seconds – that’s all it had taken for his anger to overwhelm his training. He’d silenced the broadcast with a jab of his finger and pushed the thrusters anyway, like some cocksure apprentice with a death wish.
But what was the alternative? Return to Mandalore, where the tribes are at each other’s throats again? His jaw tightens at the mere thought. No. He’s already redeemed himself, scouted Mandalore, and helped unite his people. It’s the Armorer’s job to ensure they stay that way. Now, as both a father and a teacher, Grogu is his only priority.
The kid had been crushed when Ward had vetoed his inclusion in this mission, and so had Din. Though his training has been going well, there was simply no role for a small alien child on a three-week undercover mission as Imperial security. The Colonel had insisted he go alone or not at all, and he’d backed down. He couldn’t afford to piss her off, not if he wanted to keep getting paid work.
With the job’s cancellation, the equation had been simple in his mind. He needed to return to his son, no matter the risk. He just hadn’t considered the risk might be to his life.
Pain he can handle – has handled worse than this searing hell – but this is different. This is weakness, poor judgment. It’s the worst kind of example he could set as both a teacher and a father, and that knowledge burns almost as badly as his wounds. His guest was right; he did a stupid thing. And now he’s relying on a stranger for medical aid.
Speaking of… he’s been so consumed by his self-directed fury that he let his attention lapse. Where is she? Is she still settling Grogu down, or did she already move to the refresher to find the medpac? Why is she taking so long?
It’s not suspicion that claws at him, but rather a sudden ambush of curiosity.
CONTINUE READING THIS CHAPTER ON AO3
Please feel free to JOIN MY TAG LIST or lmk in the comments if you’d like a tag for this fic only.
Damn it Mando, that really was reckless and stupid. He got real lucky that she’s so well versed in treating his injuries. Can’t wait to read how this whole flaying alive business will go! And I’m looking forward to her pov, how she’s dealing with that closeness to Mando!
Rules: make a poll with 10 of your favourite shows (they can just be 10 shows you loved watching or your top shows of all time), then tag 10 people.
Thanks for the tag @quinnnfabrgay 💖
This was pretty impossible to do, so I’ve gone with my all-time faves, and since I’m getting on in years now, some of them are kinda old. These are all shows I will watch over and over (and have).
Pick your favourite of my favourites...
Battlestar Galactica (2004–2009)
Bones (2005–2017)
Community (2009–2015)
Doctor Who (2005–2022)
Elementary (2012–2019)
Fringe (2008–2013)
Grimm (2011–2017)
House, M.D. (2004–2012)
The Mandalorian (2019– )
Stargate: SG1 (1997–2007)
Voting ended onJun 25
I’m just now realising how many of these shows feature autistic-coded characters 😃
Honourable mentions to the following as well, which were very firmly on the list and were very reluctantly culled...
Author’s Note: Thanks for all the love for chapter 1! We are now switching POVs and jumping into Din’s head, which means this one’s written in the third-person. So just a reminder: in third-person POV, she/her pronouns are used for OFC!Reader, and he’s referred to as Din, not Mando (because he knows his own name). More detailed notes at the end! I massively appreciate any and all replies and reblogs, as well as comments and kudos over on AO3. Thank you 💖
Immobile and on his knees, Din seethes with a rage he has no way to release. His muscles scream at him to slam his fist through something solid – to channel this volcanic fury into action – but the slightest twitch sends liquid fire racing through his nerve endings. Trapped in his own body, his arms stiffly splayed like some malfunctioning droid kneeling before its Maker, he can only helplessly pant through his agony. A Mandalorian warrior reduced to feeble inaction.
The forced stillness only fuels his anger, creating a feedback loop of pain and impotent wrath that threatens to consume him as he stews over who deserves the brunt of his ire.
Colonel Ward’s face flashes in his mind. Even through the flickering lines of the holo, he could see her stony expression as she’d cancelled his job over the comm while he was still in orbit. His fists clench, sending fresh waves of pain up his arms as he recalls her impassive response of “Not my problem” when he’d explained Nevarro’s lockdown had already begun.
That’s on him, though. He should’ve checked in with her before he left. If he had, he wouldn’t be in this mess.
Then there’s the woman he’d hired to take care of Grogu. When he’d instructed her to arrive before sundown, he hadn’t meant with only minutes to spare. She’d offered some excuse about Karga delaying her but hadn’t explained why, and frankly, he hadn’t cared. With lockdown looming, he’d barked some instructions, then hauled ass to the N-1.
Though he must admit, his irritation faded the moment she transformed his intolerable agony into a more bearable torture. Her quick thinking with the limewater was impressive. She deserves his gratitude, even if she did just scold him with the same eerily calm authority the Armorer employs when dressing down a wayward tribe member.
Which leads Din back to the person most deserving of his fury: himself. For his own reckless stupidity.
Every Mandalorian child learns to read atmospheric conditions, and the cloud formations he could see from orbit had been textbook warning signs. Still, he’d checked planetary broadcasts, hoping he was wrong. As the embargo signal had blared through his cockpit, his fists had tightened around the control sticks, his teeth clenching behind his helmet. Three seconds – that’s all it had taken for his anger to overwhelm his training. He’d silenced the broadcast with a jab of his finger and pushed the thrusters anyway, like some cocksure apprentice with a death wish.
But what was the alternative? Return to Mandalore, where the tribes are at each other’s throats again? His jaw tightens at the mere thought. No. He’s already redeemed himself, scouted Mandalore, and helped unite his people. It’s the Armorer’s job to ensure they stay that way. Now, as both a father and a teacher, Grogu is his only priority.
The kid had been crushed when Ward had vetoed his inclusion in this mission, and so had Din. Though his training has been going well, there was simply no role for a small alien child on a three-week undercover mission as Imperial security. The Colonel had insisted he go alone or not at all, and he’d backed down. He couldn’t afford to piss her off, not if he wanted to keep getting paid work.
With the job’s cancellation, the equation had been simple in his mind. He needed to return to his son, no matter the risk. He just hadn’t considered the risk might be to his life.
Pain he can handle – has handled worse than this searing hell – but this is different. This is weakness, poor judgment. It’s the worst kind of example he could set as both a teacher and a father, and that knowledge burns almost as badly as his wounds. His guest was right; he did a stupid thing. And now he’s relying on a stranger for medical aid.
Speaking of… he’s been so consumed by his self-directed fury that he let his attention lapse. Where is she? Is she still settling Grogu down, or did she already move to the refresher to find the medpac? Why is she taking so long?
It’s not suspicion that claws at him, but rather a sudden ambush of curiosity.
CONTINUE READING THIS CHAPTER ON AO3
Please feel free to JOIN MY TAG LIST or lmk in the comments if you’d like a tag for this fic only.
AHHHHHHHHHHH! I LOVE THIS STORY SO DAMN MUCH I HAVE TO SCREAM ABOUT IT!!!!! YAHHHHHHH!!!! EEEEEEE!!!!!! AHHHHHHH!!!!
Okay, now that that's done...
There was so much here! This chapter had everything! Wound care. Trust. Dark humor. Mistrust. Competency. Respect. Attraction. Creed trauma. Creed protection. Intimacy. Fear. Relief.... I could go on.
Everything is so detailed and visual. It really feels like I am in that tiny cabin watching this all unfold. Not like an episode from the show or like a scene from the movie. Like I am there. In the cabin. Like I can hear the hiss of the injector and his helmet, like I can smell the burnt and melted fabric, like I can see the sincerity on Reader's face. It's masterful.
I think my favorite thing about this chapter was how Din seemed so pleasantly surprised by her willingness to honor his vows and beliefs despite the fact that she literally says "I don't get it but I understand." Him noticing the reverence she uses to remove and lay out his armor, the way she asks permission before even wiping his visor clean so he can see better (I'm looking at you, handsy Omera), her insistence that he needs to drink or else nothing she's doing will matter, and the solution she comes up with to make that possible, the way she doesn't flinch when he growls at her like a dog all because she is putting saving his life and saving his Creed on the same level of importance. No wonder he nuzzled that sleeve. He just fell in love.
Wait the sleeve nuzzling deserves more than one line here. TOUCH STARVED DIN I LOVE YOU. This is the equivalent of saying "sure, I'll have a slice (1) of pie!" and then taking one bite only to find out it is the single most delicious thing you've ever eaten, in fact it makes all other food taste like sand, and before you know it you are eating the entire pie out of the tin with a fork standing in front of the fridge. He was like italicized oh, this is NICE. And then the ache of her missing contact when she moved away? PLEASE! THIS IS MY FAVORITE SONG.
Oh, he is going to be in so much pain as she starts to deal with these injuries, and I am going to hate that for him. But he is in the best hands possible (and if all else fails, maybe Grogu can hit him with the magic hand thing) and he is very, stubbornly tough, so I know he'll be okay.
I'm so curious about what might happen when/if IG were to take a trip to deliver more supplies. Would he snitch to Greef about Din being there? The N-1 is parked in the driveway, it's not like its a secret. Also, Din's little pang of "why would he be so hell bent on his niece not being around me? :(" made me so sad. (maybe it has something to do with the fact that Greef knows that your go-to answer to someone seeing your face even accidentally is "well I'll just kill them", Dinjamin, just sayin')
AHHHHHH this is the sort of review every author dreams about 🥲 Alyssa, I cannot thank you enough for taking the time to provide such in-depth and insightful feedback - you are amazing!
I lolled at “handsy Omera” (she really was, wasn’t she?). I love writing a reader who surprises Din. I feel like he thinks he’s pretty well-versed in how the galaxy works and can predict how most people will react to him, so I really enjoy turning his expectations upside down and introducing him to a strong woman who is also kind to the core. The sort of qualities he clearly liked in Omera, but in a less patronising (and less handsy) package, and with less krill farming involved.
And since it’s literally in the summary, I don’t think it’s a spoiler to say that your pie metaphor is going to be surprisingly prescient much later in the fic, when, after spending the whole of lockdown eating said pie (albeit with no actual pie eating because, y’know, helmet), suddenly Din finds himself pie-less and wholly pie-addicted.
I’m so excited for you to learn the answers to all the things you’re wondering about - IG discovering Din’s back, Karga’s reason for wanting to keep Din away from his niece (there’s something more specific, but you’ll have to wait a while for that one, I’m afraid!) 👀
Anyhoo, in light of your incredibly generous review, I’ve decided to give you a little snippet of chapter 3 as a thank you! Bear in mind I’m still polishing off the final edits, so this may or may not be identical to what goes up the weekend after next...
Smearing on the bacta gel strains the atmosphere even further. Suddenly, you can’t seem to distinguish between a soothing motion and a sensual one. Aiming for clinically professional, you smooth the gel across the large burn near Mando’s groin, but your focus keeps drifting to the impressive bulge only centimetres away beneath his black undershorts.
That’s definitely not a blaster.
The outline is so defined you can trace the full length of him with your gaze, thick and heavy. Heat crawls up your neck to your ears and down to certain other parts of your body.
Your mind replays the memory of helping him drink – your arms encircling his broad shoulders, your aching breasts pressing against his back, his body heat burning through your clothes. His natural voice had sparked a flame inside you, deep yet soft, and so much richer without the vocoder. It was… kriff. And when he’d pressed his lips against your sleeve, the distinct prickle of facial hair through the fabric had sent lightning along your spine.
You’ve had a tantalising glimpse of the man beneath the mask, a privilege you assume few – if any – have been treated to.
Something shifts in your perception of him then, or perhaps you finally stop denying it. Either way, everything you’ve learned crystallises into a devastating conclusion that settles low in your belly…
The Mandalorian is attractive. Totally hot. Downright fuckable.
And in case you’re wondering... yup, there’s a touch of smut coming up! 😏
Was on the verge of art burnout so I'm writing instead (you can read some of the current WIP here). Print shop project is still in the works, including this business card design that I also plan to offer as a print.
Anyway, words. What are words. Why are words so hard.
Series summary: Din Djarin has made more than his fair share of enemies as one of the galaxy's more fearsome bounty hunters, and he has always been prepared to deal with them should they resurface and come looking for him. But it isn't him they come after. It's you. To rescue you, he'll have to fight his way through an arena of gladiators. Sacrifices will be made, Blood will be spilled, and old scores will be settled... but will you both make it out alive?
Series warnings: canon-typical violence, fight sport, blood, injury, death, hostage/prisoner situation, see individual chapters for additional warnings.
Part One - 4.2k
Part Two - 6.6k
Part Three - 5.3k
Part Four - 5.3k
Part Five - coming soon!
Part Six - TBA
Part Seven - TBA
Author’s Note: Thanks for all the love for chapter 1! We are now switching POVs and jumping into Din’s head, which means this one’s written in the third-person. So just a reminder: in third-person POV, she/her pronouns are used for OFC!Reader, and he’s referred to as Din, not Mando (because he knows his own name). More detailed notes at the end! I massively appreciate any and all replies and reblogs, as well as comments and kudos over on AO3. Thank you 💖
Immobile and on his knees, Din seethes with a rage he has no way to release. His muscles scream at him to slam his fist through something solid – to channel this volcanic fury into action – but the slightest twitch sends liquid fire racing through his nerve endings. Trapped in his own body, his arms stiffly splayed like some malfunctioning droid kneeling before its Maker, he can only helplessly pant through his agony. A Mandalorian warrior reduced to feeble inaction.
The forced stillness only fuels his anger, creating a feedback loop of pain and impotent wrath that threatens to consume him as he stews over who deserves the brunt of his ire.
Colonel Ward’s face flashes in his mind. Even through the flickering lines of the holo, he could see her stony expression as she’d cancelled his job over the comm while he was still in orbit. His fists clench, sending fresh waves of pain up his arms as he recalls her impassive response of “Not my problem” when he’d explained Nevarro’s lockdown had already begun.
That’s on him, though. He should’ve checked in with her before he left. If he had, he wouldn’t be in this mess.
Then there’s the woman he’d hired to take care of Grogu. When he’d instructed her to arrive before sundown, he hadn’t meant with only minutes to spare. She’d offered some excuse about Karga delaying her but hadn’t explained why, and frankly, he hadn’t cared. With lockdown looming, he’d barked some instructions, then hauled ass to the N-1.
Though he must admit, his irritation faded the moment she transformed his intolerable agony into a more bearable torture. Her quick thinking with the limewater was impressive. She deserves his gratitude, even if she did just scold him with the same eerily calm authority the Armorer employs when dressing down a wayward tribe member.
Which leads Din back to the person most deserving of his fury: himself. For his own reckless stupidity.
Every Mandalorian child learns to read atmospheric conditions, and the cloud formations he could see from orbit had been textbook warning signs. Still, he’d checked planetary broadcasts, hoping he was wrong. As the embargo signal had blared through his cockpit, his fists had tightened around the control sticks, his teeth clenching behind his helmet. Three seconds – that’s all it had taken for his anger to overwhelm his training. He’d silenced the broadcast with a jab of his finger and pushed the thrusters anyway, like some cocksure apprentice with a death wish.
But what was the alternative? Return to Mandalore, where the tribes are at each other’s throats again? His jaw tightens at the mere thought. No. He’s already redeemed himself, scouted Mandalore, and helped unite his people. It’s the Armorer’s job to ensure they stay that way. Now, as both a father and a teacher, Grogu is his only priority.
The kid had been crushed when Ward had vetoed his inclusion in this mission, and so had Din. Though his training has been going well, there was simply no role for a small alien child on a three-week undercover mission as Imperial security. The Colonel had insisted he go alone or not at all, and he’d backed down. He couldn’t afford to piss her off, not if he wanted to keep getting paid work.
With the job’s cancellation, the equation had been simple in his mind. He needed to return to his son, no matter the risk. He just hadn’t considered the risk might be to his life.
Pain he can handle – has handled worse than this searing hell – but this is different. This is weakness, poor judgment. It’s the worst kind of example he could set as both a teacher and a father, and that knowledge burns almost as badly as his wounds. His guest was right; he did a stupid thing. And now he’s relying on a stranger for medical aid.
Speaking of… he’s been so consumed by his self-directed fury that he let his attention lapse. Where is she? Is she still settling Grogu down, or did she already move to the refresher to find the medpac? Why is she taking so long?
It’s not suspicion that claws at him, but rather a sudden ambush of curiosity.
CONTINUE READING THIS CHAPTER ON AO3
Please feel free to JOIN MY TAG LIST or lmk in the comments if you’d like a tag for this fic only.
I went down a rabbit hole of Mandalorian AUs all centered around Din and Grogu coming to Earth or an Earthling ending up in the Star Wars Galaxy. So I decided to compile them. I haven't read them all. But its a fun trope and I thought it would be fun to pull them together.
As always, mind the tags and warnings for each fic and if you enjoy them let the writer know, with comments and reblogs!
A Galaxy Far Far Away
We'll start with mine, cuz why not!
Din sets a course for a far away galaxy in an effort to keep his son safe, from bounty hunters and Imps. Unbeknownst to him he lands in the back woods of our readers home in New Hampshire USA. Its October and Halloween is right around the corner. Our reader is an OC hybrid in that while she is not physically described, she has a backstory.
Not My Stars
by @keldabe-kriff
I have read this one and LOVE it!!
An armored stranger shows up at your employer's company picnic, seeming a little lost and out of place. One act of kindness and a chance meeting later, he utters a phrase that upends your world:
"These stars are not my stars."
In what you hope is not the biggest mistake of your life, you offer him a place to stay.
Ner naak
by @ohwaitimthewriter
The fic that inspired mine! Has been on hiatus for a few years, but BAM out of the clear blue sky it's back getting updates!!
First Book: HORIZON Din Djarin meets you, an earthling, with no idea of the existence of an outer space.
In a Universe Far, Far Away
by @hdlynnslibrary Incomplete - *Permanent Hiatus* (please do not let this hinder you, it really is very fun and worth reading!!)
Chapter 1: Midnight Snack (this fic doesnt have its own masterlist, so I'm just starting you off with the forst chapter)
The night before your favorite show airs its finale for the second season you find yourself transported under stranger circumstances into a galaxy far, far away. Where everything and everyone is similar, yet different from what you were expecting.
Across An Ocean of Stars
by @orcasoul
This is one I don't know!
Nothing much happens in your small town of Eureka Springs, Arkansas, USA. All of that changed one morning when strolling in the woods, you encounter a strange metallic man and his even stranger green child...
Out of this World
by @kaysfanficcorner
Another new one for me! Din Djarin and The Child touch down on Nevarro a few months after the events of season one. Greef Karga and Cara Dune introduce him to someone with a bizarre background from a strange planet, and they ask for Din’s help to find her way home.
Country Roads
by @itsjuststardust
Also new to me!
You’re a nurse who owns and runs a farm in rural America. You’re doing the best you can to get by when Mother Nature decides to complicate your life even more than it already was by having a tornado drop a man and his radioactive Furby onto your truck. That’s it. That’s the story... Well, that’s all you had expected the story to be, something to laugh about once the shock wore off, and everyone went their separate ways. Too bad (or lucky for you, you’re still unsure), life had other plans for you, the strange armored man and his strange green sidekick.
If you have one or you know one by another writer you'd like to add, let me know.
I cannot express how much I love the Din Djarin x Earthling!Reader pairing!!!
Thanks for putting this together, Hazel; some of my favourites are already on here!
If I may, could I please add to this list the wonderful @wrathkitty and her delightful fic, Short Debts Make Long Friends, in which the reader finds herself in the Star Wars Universe and proceeds to interpret everything through the lens of millennial pop culture to hilarious (and often poignant) effect. I adore both the fic and the author 💖
There’s another over on AO3 as well: Aliit Be Ehn by ChiknStripz. I don’t think they have a Tumblr blog, but it’s a decent-sized fic and worth a read!
