din djarin x reader ⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢
death , angst , the usual stuff from me
᭝ ᨳଓ ՟. The Razor Crest was disgusting.
You stood in the center of the ship with your hands on your hips, staring at scattered tools, smudged control panels, unwashed dishes, loose cables, and what you were almost positive was a sock hanging from the cockpit ceiling.
“You’re kidding,” you said flatly.
The Mandalorian behind you didn’t answer immediately.
You turned slowly to stare at him.
“Functional?” You pointed accusingly toward a pile of scrap shoved into the corner. “I think something in there just moved.”
The helmet tilted slightly.
“And you live like this willingly.”
A tiny green child peeked out from behind Din’s leg, large dark eyes blinking curiously at you. Your expression softened instantly.
“Oh,” you whispered. “Hi, sweetheart.”
The child waddled directly toward you without hesitation, lifting tiny arms expectantly. Din visibly stiffened when you picked Grogu up like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Most people were afraid of the kid at first.
Grogu pressed his little face into your shoulder and chirped happily.
Din couldn’t explain why the sight made something ache in his chest.
You were hired for simple work. Clean the ship. Watch the kid. Stay out of trouble. At first, Din barely spoke to you beyond necessities.
“There are supplies under the bunk.”
Short. Efficient. Distant. But you ignored the distance completely.
“You know,” you said one evening while scrubbing grease from the wall panels, “for a feared bounty hunter, you’re surprisingly bad at basic organization.”
Din glanced up from cleaning his rifle.
“I know where everything is.”
“You had dried ration paste stuck to the ceiling.”
“You said that yesterday too.”
Grogu made a small squealing noise from your lap like he was agreeing with you. Traitor.
Din stared at both of you in silence before looking away again.
But you noticed the faintest shake of his shoulders.
Like he was trying not to laugh.
Somehow, over time, things changed.
It became warmer. Cleaner. Lived in.
Blankets folded neatly. Fresh food warming on the small stovetop. Soft music playing quietly while you worked. Grogu’s toys no longer scattered dangerously across the floor because you actually cleaned up after him.
So slowly you almost didn’t notice it.
He started staying in the common area instead of isolating himself in the cockpit after missions. He listened when you talked now, even if he pretended not to. Sometimes you’d catch him standing in the doorway just watching you and Grogu together in silence.
Like he couldn’t quite believe this existed.
One night he returned from a bounty later than usual, movements sluggish as he stepped onto the Crest. You looked up immediately.
“I’ve been bleeding before.”
You crossed your arms. “Sit down.”
It was the first time you’d called him by his name instead of “Mando.”
The silence felt strangely intimate.
You carefully removed part of the armor near his shoulder, revealing angry burned skin beneath.
Your face tightened. “That looks awful.”
“That’s easy for you to say when you’re not the one stitching yourself back together every week.”
Din watched your hands as you cleaned the wound.
Nobody had touched him like this in years.
“You worry too much,” he murmured.
You glanced up briefly. “Someone has to.”
Din looked at you for a long moment through the visor.
“No one’s done that before.”
Your chest tightened painfully.
You tried to joke your way out of it.
“Well, someone has to keep you alive. You’d die in a ditch without me.”
A soft metallic sound left him.
And somehow that felt more intimate than seeing his face ever could.
Grogu adored you completely.
He followed you everywhere on unsteady little feet, climbed into your lap whenever possible, and cried whenever you left the ship without him.
“You spoiled him,” Din said one morning as Grogu refused to eat until you sat beside him.
“Oh, please. He was spoiled before I got here.”
Grogu happily shoved part of his meal into your hand while Din watched quietly.
The sight of the two of you together had started doing dangerous things to him, things he didn’t know how to handle.
Because this— this felt terrifyingly close to a family.
And Din Djarin had learned a long time ago that loving people meant losing them.
Still, he found himself lingering near you constantly.
Watching you hum while cleaning parts in the hull.
Listening to you ramble about planets you’d visited.
Memorizing the sound of your laugh.
One night during hyperspace, you fell asleep at the small table while waiting for Din to finish repairs.
Grogu was asleep curled against your chest.
Din stood there for a long time just staring.
The dim blue lights softened your features.
Something deep in Din’s chest shifted painfully.
He stepped closer before he could stop himself and carefully draped a blanket over you both.
Your eyes fluttered open slightly.
You smiled sleepily. “Wanted to wait for you.”
Nobody had ever waited for him before.
Din felt suddenly unsteady.
“You don’t have to do that.”
You reached out instinctively, fingers brushing lightly against the cold beskar of his wrist.
The contact lasted barely a second.
But Din felt it everywhere.
Din stared at you in silence long after you drifted back to sleep.
And for the first time in years, the idea of leaving someone behind scared him more than death itself.
The bounty was supposed to be routine.
“I can help,” you insisted while loading supplies onto the Crest.
Din shook his head immediately. “It could get dangerous.”
You snorted. “Your entire existence is dangerous.”
“You’re not trained for this.”
You crossed your arms. “I survived before I met you.”
Because the truth sat heavy behind his ribs.
The point was that losing you would destroy him.
But he didn’t know how to say that.
Instead, he settled for a quiet—
You smiled softly. “Always do.”
The trap was obvious in hindsight.
The target had hired extra muscle and waited until Din was cornered inside the narrow market streets before attacking.
Blaster fire erupted from rooftops.
Din fired back instantly, grabbing your arm to pull you behind cover.
More mercenaries poured into the street.
“Get back to the ship,” Din ordered sharply.
You drew your blaster anyway.
Something fierce and terrified twisted in Din’s chest.
The sharp mechanical whine of a sniper charging somewhere above.
You turned toward him at the exact wrong moment.
The bolt slammed into your chest.
Din caught you before you hit the ground.
Your blood spread rapidly beneath his gloves.
Around you, blaster fire continued.
Din didn’t even remember killing the remaining hunters.
Because nothing mattered except you gasping weakly in his arms.
“Stay with me,” he begged, voice broken and desperate beneath the modulator.
You tried to smile despite the blood at your lips.
“Don’t.” His hands shook violently trying to stop the bleeding. “Please don’t do this.”
Your fingers weakly curled against his armor.
“You’re squeezing too hard.”
He immediately loosened his grip like you were made of glass.
Your breathing hitched painfully.
“You have nothing to apologize for.”
Grogu’s worried cries crackled through the communicator.
Your eyes filled instantly.
“I can’t do this without you.”
The words escaped before Din could stop them.
You looked at him then with something heartbreakingly soft in your eyes.
Your trembling hand reached shakily toward his helmet.
Din leaned into it instantly.
“I never…” His voice cracked. “I never got to tell you—”
“It’s okay,” you whispered gently.
Din’s entire world shattered with it.
After you died, the Razor Crest became unbearably quiet.
Grogu searched for you constantly at first.
Tiny feet pattering through empty halls.
Waiting outside your bunk.
Din didn’t know how to comfort him because he didn’t know how to survive it himself.
Your presence lingered everywhere.
In the blankets folded neatly near the bunk.
In the mug still tucked beside the sink.
In the soft jacket you left hanging by the door.
Weeks later, Din found Grogu sleeping curled up in your old sweater.
The sight nearly broke him completely.
That night, after putting Grogu to bed, Din sat alone in the cockpit staring into hyperspace.
He held your old necklace tightly in his gloved fist.
“You made this place feel like home,” he whispered into the empty ship.
And alone in the dark, with nobody left to hear it—
