So I was thinking about the cyclist!Din AU today and the two of them, perhaps later on in their relationship, spending a lazy morning in bed (or once Din and Grogu returned from their ride). Maybe Grogu is settled on Din's chest, entertained by Din wiggling his fingers in front of his face but pulling them back just before he can grab them, causing Grogu to giggle and the two of them to smile. Maybe Din has his other arm wrapped around her while she's tucked into his side and they intermittently kiss whatever body parts they can reach (the top of her head, Din's shoulder?) , occasionally stretching to share a proper kiss. Basically I was thinking of a morning filled with love and soft kisses 🥺
(This isn't a request or anything, I just wanted to share my thoughts! 😅)
Cass---
When I tell you this thought breathed new life into me and has single-handedly stayed on my mind since you sent it. I am MELTING at the thought of this and I know it wasn’t a request, but I simply couldn’t help myself delving a little more into this slice of heaven:
Stormy Sunday mornings meant two things that rarely – if ever – occurred at once; no work, and a guilt-free excuse not to go out cycling for once.
You had only let him leave the bed after a series of slow kisses and tender sleepy caresses over exposed skin. A promise to return as soon as he checked on Grogu whispered against your lips—resulting in him returning with the bouncy rug-rat soon after for morning cuddles neither of you could resist. Din settled back against the pillows, his son sitting up happily on his abdomen with his fathers protective hand held gently behind his back—babies lost their balance a lot, he discovered, leading to an overexaggerated baby-proofing of his entire house.
Once you had pulled on his discarded shirt from the night before— the material swallowing you in its size and making his heart clench with a familiar tug of affection, you settled back against him after pressing a loving kiss to the top of Grogu’s head.
“Where’s mine?” Din’s chest rumbled beneath where you lay your cheek, basking in the solid warmth and strong embrace—his fingers tracing up and down your arm lazily, Grogu’s attention immediately turning to the movement and causing you both to laugh as he tried to catch his father’s hand.
“Mmh?” you smiled, turning your head enough to press your lips to the dip in his clavicle – a sleepy sort of laziness making you unwilling to stretch any further than you needed to, “there, happy?”
“Mm… very…” he rasped quietly, neither of you wanting to break the dreamy haze you found yourselves in. Just you, him and Grogu. Perfect.
If Din could pause life at any moment, it would be now.
His lips split on a smile when he was greeted with not only the sound of your laughter, but that of his sons as well—this little game of trying to catch Din’s fingers entertaining the two year-old to no end, small hands slapping down on his abdomen and chest excitedly when his fingers crawled away once more. The movement had tickled you, soft sounds of amusement filling his senses and he turned his head to press a kiss to the top of your head-- his lips refusing to separate from your crown as he inhaled the light scent of your shampoo until you turned your head upward.
Grogu managed to catch his father’s hand this time, a joyful babble filling the bedroom. Din’s mind distracted and reactions slow as he met your lips with his own, a rumble of approval bubbling in the back of his throat when your fingers scratched along the hair dusting his jaw. There was no expectation or desire for more – though he couldn’t say the same in another hour – and his lips moved over yours reverently, tasting you as though it was a privilege to even be given the opportunity. Making the most of every second.
You parted with a small smile, a giggle puffing on his lips when he made to chase your lips, drunk already. Those eyes you had fallen for so fast and hard, eyes that infiltrated your thoughts and dreams before you realised you never stood a chance—bore into yours now with nothing but naked love and a wonderment that was so achingly similar to his sons that you had to peck his plush lips once more.
A small gurgle pulled your eyes back down his body to where Grogu was still holding Din’s hand but was now nestling down into your side, obviously ready for his own Sunday morning lie in.
Din watched as you shifted—lifting the dozing baby up to settle more comfortably in the small dip where your body met Din’s, his small cheek nuzzling into your chest, one small fist wrapped tight around his father’s thumb.
Din muttered something - secret and special - softly against your hair, a small shake of his head all you received when you looked up at him from where you had been dozing off yourself. Either content with his response or too sleepy to ask again, you snuggled against him, the warmth of both your boys lulling you off easily.
Din himself remained awake only long enough to ingrain the image of you and his son intertwined with him—all three of you taking up a fraction of the space provided by the bed, his heart full and mind still disbelieving that this was his reality.
He smiled to himself—letting the steady rise and fall of both your breathing soothe him back to slumber once more, cocooned in a family he never let himself hope to have before.
1: touching foreheads - din djarin/omera, the mandalorian.
~600 words. rated g. post-s2, no warnings.
prompt from these. send some in!
———
Sorgan is, fundamentally, a watery kind of place.
It’s why Omera chose the planet to begin with. Sleepy, calm, watery little Sorgan. Far from gunfire, far from the Empire. Perfect.
The light that filters in through the window is watery, too; pale and limpid in the early hours of dawn. It flows in like mist, settling on the oaken frames of her home and gleaming lightly between the roof's thatching. Sunrise has always been beautiful here, as it is anywhere. But she’d never quite appreciated it like this.
Said light draping over Din’s face, sleeping next to her own, may have something to do with it.
Omera sighs. It's shallow, so she doesn’t wake him, but she sighs nonetheless. She's found that breathing in too deeply when he's in her line of sight jerks something ticklish in her chest. She usually has to cough to cover it up. Or better yet, keep her eyes on someone else instead.
But right now, it's early. He's the only thing in her line of sight.
It was a night in the third week after the raiders had been defeated — so long ago, now — that she'd been lying in bed, not unlike from how she is now. Except that she was alone then, of course. And some girlish, naive urge had bubbled up into her throat, whispering, you don't have to be. You could ask him to join you.
She didn't, naturally. How different things might be if she had.
But that was the only time she'd allowed herself to wonder what the Mandalorian looks like. Tried conjuring features to match his soft voice. To suit how he hovered awkwardly near villagers rather than stood. To fit the way he kneeled, slowly, whenever the children wanted to say hello.
Omera looks at Din's face now, warm and weathered in her home. She's struck with the thought that what he looks like never mattered; not really. She'll stare at him, awash in a sheet of fresh, clean light, all day long. No question. But it's not what counts.
It's things like— like the fact that he's a heavy sleeper, despite everything she'd guessed. It's the bags etched under his eyes when he catches sight of infants toddling near the neighbours' houses, reminded of his own too far away. It's the sudden, instinctual quirk of his lips when Winta cracks a joke at the table. It's his name.
And Omera doesn't pick favourites, not for anything. Winta and her father have been the only two exceptions to that principle. She doesn't like singling out the best of anything, just for herself.
But she can't deny it. Her favourite thing about Din is something he's taught her, gifted her. A shy, fluttering press of his brow to hers. His hand cradling her cheek hesitates to ask permission, wavers as if he's handling glass. Something precious. She can only call the exchange sacred, every time. Din feels the same, if the way he looks at her after is anything to judge by.
And now, even as she shuffles closer to the man lying on the pillow next to hers, Din faintly snores. Omera lifts her forehead to his, butting lightly to give herself the satisfaction of it. Of him, and them. It feels holy. It feels like a favourite.
As Din finally begins to stir, Omera can only smile, wide and bright.
☁️: A soft headcanon with Din
Okay, Im so soft for this beskar covered man and I have many #thoughts about soft!Din and snuggling so Im going with that! :D
Not only is Din touch-starved but he is just plain intimacy-starved
So he is more than happy for a while with smaller touches but ohhhh baby when he finally is comfortable with snuggling? He is like “wtf why did we not do this earlier?!”
Then he is hooked, anytime he can cuddle with you somehow the man FINDS A WAY TO DO IT
Like, I feel in general most of the fandom agrees that Din Djarin would be the best big spoon ever 10/10 would recommend and I totally agree with that
Being the big spoon makes him feel not only close with his S/O but also feeds into his protective nature and he is 110% your personal space heater in this situation as he pulls you into his chest and your legs intertwine
And I know a ton of people also agree that he would also love being the little spoon in a relationship
Please, please, please make that man the little spoon! It makes him feel loved, cared for, and protected in a way he hasn’t felt since he was about 6-8 years old (don’t mind me crying k? he needs to feel safe too please!)
Either way, he loves being close and snuggled up to his lover, he loves the soft touches on his bare skin and hair from you and he loves returning those touches (if things sometimes get spicy that is just a bonus but really that isn’t always his main goal with snuggling)
But one of his favorite ways to snuggle? Him slightly (or fully) on top of you, his head on the top of your chest with your chin or cheek resting on the top of his head
He loves being able to hear your heartbeat, feel how your chest rises and falls as you breathe, and if you comb your fingers through his hair that man will practically purr
Often times you both will also be joined by the baby, the little green dude has been lacking a loving family for a while (possibly as long as Din since the baby is 50 after all)
So it is the warm tangle of limbs and hands brushing over ticklish baby ears
Those were the moments Din finally started to let himself see that he wasn’t alone anymore and that he had found a family, his own little aliit
all these things he said about writing during his talk with david duchovny, like "writing was such a way of giving myself something that I wanted" or "I would read it aloud constantly to anyone that would listen"
and if we're talking about his filmography it's definitely "we gotta fly over the fucking andes, man"
“You’re trembling.” He had whispered it as if it was the most sacred of secrets, though it had been more of a simple realization from him than anything else. “Cyar’ika you’re trembling.”
This is from a Din cuddle thing I'm working on!
Send me a 🌹 and I’ll post a random sentence from one of my wips!
17. describe a fic that is still in the ‘ideas’ stage
the uhhhh next five (?) parts of pillar of salt woops. it was just going to be two parts but im not one for impulse control or brevity of any sort so here we are lol
i’m actually outlining everything + writing dialogue right now >:)
19. what’s your favorite character headcanon?
i’ve talked about this before and i’ll link the post if i find it but personally i find it ridiculously fun to imagine colonel carrillo snoring and sneezing horrifyingly loud
like “holy shit do you have a medical condition you’re waking up the neighborhood” loud. maybe you get him breathe right strips or something but i doubt it’d help 💀💀
