Din Djarin/Mando/The Mandalorian: One Shots, Imagines, etc.

Five More Minutes

A/N: i found the picture above on the internet surprise surprise but now im in love with din all over again haha 🥲 but anyway whoever made this thxs so much ily xxx

(mando'a transalations: ner riduur = my husband/wife, olaror bat = come on, vi ganar at = we have to, cyar'ika = darling/sweetheart, tion'jor = why, nayc = no, rayshe'a = five)

Warnings: possibly wrong facts abt foundlings, smallish age gap (4 yrs basically), some real ass fluff for yall,

Word count: 880 (I'm sorry it's short but I kind of promise it's worth reading)

You can hardly think of a time in your life where you don't remember Din. In fact you don't think you can think of a time when you didn't know him at all. Your first memory is of him: he'd just been rescued from the Imperial droids by you uncle's friend, and your uncle had had the extremely bright idea of introducing the two of you. You were probably about four years old, him about eight, and you remember cowering behind your mother's leg, peering out from behind her cape at the fidgeting boy sheltering behind your uncle - who had set his mind upon making the new foundling some friends. For Din and you, it had turned out magnificently... but for your mother, your uncle, and his friend, not so well.

Let's just say two small soon - to - be Mandalorians running amock around the covert was not something they had expected or wanted.

Once Din and you had sworn yourselves to the Creed, you'd joined the Guild together. You'd been hauling in the bounties by the dozen for Karga until the moment when you met the kid several years ago, who although adorable, could also be referenced to as 'the Green Nightmare.' And a few years ago, after you'd gotten quite badly hurt and, well, Din was scared enough that he proposed.

Well, to say he 'proposed' would be going a bit far. Basically, he threatened you he'd marry you if you lived while stitching you up with shaking fingers, and, well, that was an offer you fortunately couldn't refuse.

Which brings you here, cuddling him - your beloved husband - close to you. The two of you fell asleep the night before with him as big spoon, his arms tucked tightly around you, your bodies fitting together like the pieces of a jigsaw, but sometime in the night you must have moved because now you're cradling him in your arms and his head is resting on your chest, his soft chestnut curls tickling your skin. His warm fingers are wrapped firmly around your waist, his legs entangled with yours, his breathing slow and heavy, and you smile at the content displayed on the familiar features of his sleeping face.

Gently tracing the weathered lines on his face with your fingertips, you run your other hand through his hair. Mumbling something sleepily, you feel him stir against you as he registers your touch.

'Morning, ner riduur,' you whisper onto his forehead as you kiss it, eyes closing while you savour the moment, syrupy and oozing like honey, thick with content and the sweet, sweet knowledge that one of your two favourite beings lies in your arms, his voice a low rumble as he practically purrs into your chest.

'Wake uuuup, Din.' You poke his back, but he just buries his face further into your neck, his brow furrowing as he squeezes his eyes shut. You're unable to stop the way the corners of your lips pull up as he grumbles a sleepy 'no' in response.

'Olaror bat, Din. Vi ganar at pack.'

'Pick one language,' he mumbles. 'Mando'a or Basic, cyar'ika.'

'Tion'jor? Too early in the morning?' You tease, nudging him, and the despairing sound he makes confirms your suspicions. He's silent for a little bit, and you realise he's attempting to fall asleep again. Sighing, you start edging out from underneath him, when his grip on your waist suddenly turns to steel as he wraps both of his arms around you, trapping you against him. Wiggling your hips, you start worming out of his tight grasp on you when he gently nips at the sensitive skin of your neck. An indignant squeak squeezes from your throat, and you entwine your fingers in a handful of his lovely curls and tug lightly on them.

'Ow,' he whines.

'Don't bite me then, you scoundrel!'

'But you were leaving,' he implores.

'Well, let me! I have to pack!'

'Packing can wait. You already did most of it yesterday.'

'You're saying that packing so we can see our child can wait?'

'...'

'That's what I thought. Let me go, Din.'

'But - '

'Nayc, Din. Remember, you're the one who wanted to keep the Green Nightmare in the first place?'

'If I knew that the Green Nightmare was going to keep my wife from me, I would have left him with Peli ages ago.'

'I know you don't mean that.'

'I don't.' Short pause. 'But how about five more minutes?'

He raises his head, squinting up at you. You're about to say no again, but you catch one glimpse of those heart melting, soft brown eyes and your mouth is already moving.

'Okay. Fine. Rayshe'a minutes. I mean it. Or that glorious pulse rifle's mine.'

'Mmf,' he hums, dropping his head back onto your chest and sighing happily, closing his eyes again as his hand seeks yours, his warm callused fingers wrapping around your slender ones as he brings your knuckles to your lips to press multiple soft, butterfly's kisses to their scarred ridges. Rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand, you listen to the way his breathing slows, your eyes half closed as you run your palm up and down his muscled back.

'Five more minutes...' You yawn, your eyelids drifting closed. 'Five... Five more...'