❝ 𝘳.𝘦.𝘮. ❞ [ Pedro Pascal characters x reader ]

your head on his shoulder | fluff

prompt: You've been together for a little while, but Mando is still new to the whole "affection" thing

warning: just some very light combat and Mando being a little insecure

word count: 1725

pronouns: gender-neutral

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second-person point of view. . .

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Yet again he stood, tall, unamused, and threatened with the barrel of a well-oiled blaster. It was not exactly uncommon for The Mandalorian to be put in peril. In fact, it was just about a weekly occurrence these days. Fortunately, the high frequency of these treacherous activities led to the experience necessary to handle such activities.

Reflexively, Mando swiftly grabbed the assailant's wrist and maneuvered the blaster from his grip. The back of his other hand collided with the attacker's face. The fight with that particular hooligan did not extend beyond that strike. The fight with the rest of the aggressors, however, persisted quite further.

Fifteen against two was not a particularly great set of odds on paper. In practice, on the other hand, it played out a little differently--considering the fifteen were unorganized street thugs and the two were remarkably successful bounty hunters. So really, it evened out nicely.

"(Y/n), behind you!" Mando shouted as he blocked an oncoming attack.

You instantly turned around at his warning and instinctively ducked around the swing of a javelin. You jabbed him in the gut with your fist. The recoil gave you an opportunity to alleviate him of his weapon. In your grip, the metal spear smacked him across the face and his body hit the cold and soggy ground of the jungle planet you were visiting.

"Thanks!" You called out a delayed response to your partner in semi-legal crime.

You looked over your shoulder to see how he was fairing. No surprise, he was holding his ground like the fierce warrior he was. You watched on for a moment. The rays of evening sun that managed to creep through clusters of overhead branches and leaves made his armor shine with every movement. His leather-bound hands moved swiftly and with deadly accuracy as they forced the limbs of his opponents to bend and ultimately break. Breaths came running from his lips and through the modulator of his helmet.

You stare, star-struck by the fighter before you. Was it alarming to know such calculated violence captivated you? Perhaps. But it was only him who made you pause. The graceful brutality was enchanting on him and him alone. That spell would be your downfall, surely. If it would not be the cause of your willing fall to everlasting heaven, it would be the cause of your fall to the soggy grass below your feet.

One of your adversaries had seized the chance to strike while you were distracted. His shoulders hit your gut as he tackled you to the ground and the breath fled from your lungs harshly. He reached for the knife strapped to his belt and raised it above his head with both hands on the hilt.

His wrists hit the javelin before the tip of the knife could reach your skin. You held the bar with all the strength you could muster to keep the man's blade at bay while your mind began to craft an escape plan. You did not have very much time to think. With a loud blast, the man was shot in the ribs and the force made him tumble away. You shoved him the rest of the way off and looked to see where the shot had come from.