Hey ...
Can I have a request for pedro × reader ?
The reader is sad about something and can't sleep pedro finds her in the balcony all alone with her thoughts in the middle of the night
threw this together to try to get out of my writers block, hope you enjoy love! sorry it's a bit on the shorter side :)
The night had gone seemingly well - or so he'd thought. Nothing was particularly out of the ordinary anyways. Dinner had been delicious, the wine you'd shared sweet, and you'd both wound down with a few episodes of a new show in bed before he'd curled up under the covers and let the drowsiness have him.
He'd just assumed you'd dozed off soon after he'd kissed you goodnight. But when he woke up at 2am to a cold bed, he realized he's been mistaken.
It put a knot in his stomach as soon as his eyes adjusted and he realized that his senses weren't failing him - you really weren't there beside him.
"Baby?" He called, voice still raspy.
The knot grew into a pit when he saw that the bathroom light wasn't on either.
"Amor?" He tried again - no answer.
His heartbeat picked up as he stood up from the bed, pace quickening as he realized that the bedroom door was cracked. He pushed it aside quickly, eyes scanning the house for any sign of you.
He let out a breath when he found it - the silhouette of his yellow Lakers shirt outside on the balcony, outlined through the glass doors. He'd recognize you in a crowded room, even with you turned away towards the city the way you were.
He was quiet and slow as he approached, sliding the door carefully out of the way.
"Amor? It's me." His voice was gentle but you jumped anyways, breath catching in your chest before you recognized him and relaxed.
You opened your mouth to say something, but you couldn't find anything quite right. Everything felt heavy - your mind, your chest, your eyes. So when Pedro made his way in front of you, crouched down to meet your gaze and asked if you were alright, you couldn't answer. All you did was shake your head no, and let the burning in your eyes you'd been fighting finally spill over.
He didn't need anything more than that. Without any hesitation he looped one arm under your knees and another behind your back, lifting you up and switching places so you were settled on his lap in the chair, curled up against him. He didn't move his arms, just used them to hold you close to him, to tuck you up against his bare chest.
His cheek was rough against your forehead, but it settled you, grounded you each time you felt it move as he spoke sweet nothings that flowed down to you, calming your heart beat by beat. I've got you amor. You're safe. It's alright. I'm right here. You can let it out. I love you. Te amo. I love you.
The tears stopped some time later, and to Pedro's relief you sat up and looked at him, giving him the chance to wipe some of the remnants away with his thumbs along your cheekbones.
"Que pasa mi amor?" He murmured sweetly - when you were finally able to look at him the genuine concern in his eyes was almost your undoing all over again. The love was so blatant, and you felt so undeserving that it was overwhelming. How could he really be yours? And how could you handle him being so far away? But you couldn't put that on him - it was too much. Too heavy.
"It's nothing baby, I'm okay."
He tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, letting his fingers linger. You relaxed, resting your cheek in his palm.
"I can't help you if you don't let me in amor. Please," he whispered. "Let me in. Tell me, let me hold some of it."
You would never understand how he always knew exactly what to say to unlock the flood gates. But somehow he always had the key. And so you started to tell him. And you couldn't stop. And with every sad confession came tears and jumbled sentences and points missed and you didn't care, because Pedro was there, listening to every word and holding your hand as you played with his fingers to distract yourself as you spoke, released everything that had been keeping your mind running in circles all night long, exhausting you.
"... and it feels better when you're here, it feels like I can breathe but I know you're going to be gone soon and I'm so happy for you and I know you'll come visit and I can go visit but I don't know how I'm going to be okay with you so far away for so long when I love you this much and I just - I just -"
Those words in particular caught Pedro's ear, caused him to sit up a bit straighter.
"Sweetheart, I don't leave for filming for another two months."
"I know, I know I sound crazy, we have so much time but I can't stop thinking about what it's going to be like when you aren't here."
"Hey, c'mere. C'mere." He readjusted, moving your legs until you were straddling him. He took your face in his hands, waiting until you looked at him. "You aren't crazy. I've been thinking about it too. About how hard it's gonna be."
The shock of that pulled you out of your spiral a bit.
"You have?"
"Of course I have. I don't want to leave you here alone when I got to the gym, much less for six months of filming. I want to be where you are, simple as that."
The sincerity of his words hit you like a ton of bricks. "Yeah?" was all you could muster, and it made him chuckle.
"Yeah, mi amor." He laughed, kissing your nose. "So on that note I was thinking, maybe you could just come with me. If you wanted. We could get an apartment instead of my trailer, for the weekends, and -"
"You'd do that?"
He blinked at you, surprised. "Of course I would. But I understand that's a lot to ask of you. So obviously take all the time you need to think about it, and we can figure out the details."
It was your turn to laugh. As if you even needed to consider it.
"What?" He questioned. You answered him with a kiss, hoping it would convey everything you needed to say. When you finally broke free a few minutes later, your lack of sleep and aftermath of adrenaline had worn off. He didn't need to ask if you were okay - he could feel it. You yawned, leaning your head against Pedro's broad shoulder and melting into him.
He held you for a few moments, relishing in the feeling of you fully trusting him before he kissed your temple and coaxed you up just enough for him to get his hands under your thighs so he could carry you to bed. You didn't stray far - once he climbed under the covers you returned to him, curling up against his chest, head clear for the first time in weeks as his kissed your forehead and pulled you closer, holding you through the night.
✧ Now husband and wife, Din finally takes off the helmet and you see his face for the first time.
word count: 914 | rating: general audiences | content warnings: just fluff!
originally posted on march 14, 2022 on starlightdjarin
© catcastle on ao3 and @dearest-readers on tumblr
You haven’t been married for long. In fact, no more than a beat has passed since you exchanged the Mandalorian vows in the cockpit of the Crest.
"Mhi solus tome.” We are one when together.
“Mhi solus dar'tome.” We are one when parted.
“Mhi me'dinui an.” We will share all.
“Mhi ba'juri verde." We will raise warriors.
This is the start of your new life with your husband. Din Djarin. There was once a time when you never thought you’d know his birth name. Now, he is about to reveal his face to you. Maker, he’s nervous. And he has every right to be. Even though you’ve told him time and time again that it doesn’t matter what he looks like. After all, it wasn’t his face you fell in love with.
You fell in love with his gruff exterior and stoic disposition. With his tender heart and broken soul. You softened his edges and reminded him it was okay to smile. You fell in love with the way he slowly let Grogu take up space in his heart. You fell in love with the way he covered you with his cape when you were cold in the cockpit. So, no. It doesn’t matter what he looks like.
You rest your palms on Din’s armored thighs and he squeezes your hands gently. You can hear him trying to take a large, controlled breath. You know he’s anxious. You know he’s worried you won’t like what you see.
“I love you, Din. What you look like will never change that.”
“I know, cyar’ika,” Din sighs. “I love you. It’s just been—”
“I know. You don’t have to take it off now. You never have to take it off if you don’t want to.”
Din shakes his head. “No, I want to. I want to look at you through my own eyes. I’ve gotten to admire the slope of your nose and the crinkles around your eyes when you laugh at something not even remotely funny. The least I can do is show you my ugly mug.”
Great, now you’re nervous. What if he really is unattractive? With any kind of love, there has to be some level of attraction. Oh, dear Maker, please just let him be decently handsome. It doesn’t matter. You tell yourself again.
Din lets go of your hands and places them on either side of his helmet. “Ready?” He’s not sure if he’s asking you or himself.
You nod. “So ready.”
The helmet hisses and Din slowly lifts it up. With every inch of skin you see, your heart quivers ferociously.
Scruff. Dark brown, maybe black facial hair. There’s a sprinkling of grey in it, too.
Lips. Pink, plump, perfectly kissable.
Nose. Aquiline and beautifully angled.
Eyes. Hooded and crinkled at the edges. Brown, you note. Nervous and tired, but kind.
Forehead. Creased with uncertainty.
Hair. Dark, just like his beard. Tousled and loosely curled. You want to run your fingers through it.
You haven’t said a single thing to your husband. You’ve just been staring, drinking him in. But your silence is worrying. Are you speechless because you don’t like the way he looks? Does he look old? Is it his patchy beard?
No, it’s none of the above. You’re not silent because you don’t like what you see. You’re silent because you’ve found yourself deeper in love than you were before. You didn’t think that was possible. You didn’t think looks would matter that much. But looking at Din’s face, getting the full picture of who he is, it makes you love drunk. It makes you woozy. It makes you crave him. This is your man. Your beautiful boy.
You tentatively bring your hand up to Din’s face. “Can I?”
Din nods. As soon as your hand touches his cheek, he closes his eyes and leans into you. It’s like a thousand little sparks lit up beneath his skin and spread down to his toes. It’s fiery and intense, but also warm and comforting. It’s been so long since someone else has touched him. He wants to feel you everywhere. Anywhere. He wants your bare bodies pressed together, legs intertwined and nose nuzzled in your neck.
You’re tracing a line down his nose to memorize the curved line. Maker, you love him so much. “Din, take a deep breath,” you whisper.
He tries to, but he’s overwhelmed by all of the things he wants to do with you. Such as kissing you. You’re his riduur and he hasn’t even kissed you yet! He cups your cheeks just as you’re holding his and he brings his lips to yours. You jolt in surprise but easily melt into him. It’s everything and nothing at all what you expected it to be. You didn’t expect the scruff to tickle the skin around your lips. You didn’t expect how soft his lips would be. Or how juvenile the kiss seems. Unpracticed and a bit messy, but full of love and affection. “Din,” you mumble against him.
“Hmm?” He hums. He has no intentions of ever removing his lips from yours.
“You’re perfect, Din,” the praise goes right into his mouth. It stirs something in his tummy. Desire. “So kriffing handsome.”
Kissing Din, you realize, is everything you’ve been missing from your relationship. You have become one. You will still be one when he is away. You will share everything you have. And you absolutely cannot wait to start making and raising little warriors.
thank you so much for reading! if you enjoyed it, please like and reblog— it really helps writers and creators out.
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