Din Djarin x Reader One-Shots

The Cabin In The Woods | Part 2

Warnings: Blood, Injuries, Swearing, Unedited

Mandalorian x GN! Reader

Word Count:  3098 (Hehehehehehe....ngl not my best work TvT Its a bit rushed)

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Your internal clock woke you up before dawn, Daemon stretching awake beside you.

Changing into simple brown trousers and tunic with a rope for a belt, you left your room to get your boots by the door. The Mandalorian was sound asleep on the couch, armor and helmet still present. You felt kinda bad for the guy, you knew it mustn't be comfortable

Shrugging off the strange concern, you slowly cracked the door open to slip out without waking him.

For the next few hours you and Daemon plowed the fields, harvested the ripe crops and watered the garden in the morning fog, your disfigured bodies hardly visible in the clouds of mist.

When your morning chores were done and your stomach was growling louder than Daemons, you went inside to prepare first meal and check up on the beskar man.

Just before you reached the porch, Daemon bounded off in the fog, soon coming back with the hand of a shadowed figure in his mouth. Stepping closer, you saw that it was just Mando, and slowly released your grip that you had taken on your axe.

"What're you doin' up so early?" You asked.

"Habit." He shrugged. "What about you?"

You raised an eyebrow, looking down at your dirty clothes and muddy Massiff. "Work."

He nodded, gently taking his arm back from Daemon. "What can I do?" He said, referring to yesterday's deal. You opened your mouth to respond, but as the sun rose from behind you, its morning rays beaming down on you both, revealing a dark patch on the fabric of his shoulder, and the crusted blood on his armor. Your eyes widened.

You had completely forgot about his injury, and you still had no idea how bad it was. Sighing from your stupidity, you grabbed his good arm and hurried the now confused Mandalorian inside.

Sitting him down at your wooden kitchen counter, you took the med kit from beside the water pump.

"What are you doing?" He asked, slightly suspicious.

"Take off your chestplate, right pauldron, and shirt." You instructed whilst rustling through the kit for bacta and bandages.

"What?" He assumed he'd heard you wrong, the question crackling with uncertainty. You huffed and stopped what you were doing, looking back up at him, eyebrows raised in exasperation.

"Please." You added sarcastically. Before he could ask any more questions, you continued.

"You're bleeding and hurt, and if I don't treat it, it'll get infected. If it gets infected, you won't be fit enough to work, and if you can't work, you can't keep up your end of the deal. I would therefore have to kill you, and I don't think you want that." You went back to getting what you needed, placing a thread and needle at the side just in case. "Now take off your shirt."

He did so without question this time, placing his armor on the other end of the counter, then peeling the grey and bloody fabric from his chest. When you looked back up, you froze for a moment, mesmerized by the ripples of muscles across his torso and scars that littered his tan skin. Dear Maker help me.