#mandalorian/you

[fanatic-writers]

Adventures in Baby Sitting

Chapter One: The Adventure Begins

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A/n: I have a lot of fun things planned for this series. A lot of it is going to stick to the basis of the show but I also want to add some fun filler-type fics here and there. Some slice of life if you will. If there is anything you'd like to see feel free to send me a message and I will try to incorporate it into the series. I hope yall enjoy this and I'm actually really excited to keep writing this.

Word Count: 1952

Pairing: (Eventual) Din Djarin x Mandalorian!Reader

Warnings: Canon levels of violence but it's very tame, unedited like everything cause I'm lazy lol

Summary: Reader is the Armorer's daughter and is also a foundling. She and Din have known each other for a long time but he was never quite able to break his shell. When the Mandalorians help Din escape with the child she is ordered to go to his ship to help him care for the thing.

You hadn’t seen him come in at first, focused on your work despite the assistance of the machinery crafting armor from beskar wasn’t the easiest task in the world. Although that was the least of your worries. You watched as Din, or the Mandalorian as he was simply called now, fitted in his familiar armor had taken his seat. You glanced up from your work as your mother joined him. She hadn’t beckoned you over, so you did your best to continue despite wanting to catch up with your old friend. The two of you had known each other for quite some time, both foundlings, however, the Armorer had taken you under her wing when the Mandalorian that had found you passed shortly after. You were still too young to take the oath when it happened, but your mother had come to show you everything about her job, from forging to leading. You had grown since then, sworn to walk the path and follow The Way, honing in your skills by making armor for the foundlings. She eventually raised a hand to call you over and you joined her. Standing beside her as she handed you the piece of beskar. “Imperial?” You mumbled looking to the armor-clad man in front of you through your visor. “How did you-?” “It does not matter how.” Your mother spoke up “It is back in its rightful place. I’ll be crafting a pauldron, bring it to the smelter and then finish up with your work.” You nodded, silently doing as you were told. You watched as the beskar melted down, your mother preparing her tools. It wasn’t long before your piece for the Foundlings was finished, and she was handing over the new piece of armor to your friend.

“You didn’t speak to him.” Your mother’s voice filled the room that had been taken over by silence as you cleaned up your workstation. “He didn’t wish to speak.” You responded as you pulled out a failed project from ages ago, preparing to melt it down and turn it into a chest piece for yourself. As part of your practice, the Armorer had wanted you to slowly craft your own armor set, knowing the leather that the both of you wore wouldn’t protect you in every circumstance. “You didn’t ask.” You could hear the smirk on her lips despite the golden helmet that covered her face. If you hadn’t worn a helmet of your own, she’d see the look you gave her, but you hoped she could sense your disdain for her meddling in your relationship. You knew she only wanted what was best for you and that she knew how you felt about Mando, that didn’t mean you wanted her to try and set you up with the guy. “He’ll return eventually, and we will speak.”

Your mother had finished her work for the day, but you weren’t done yet. The sooner you finished your own armor the sooner you could work on more sets for the foundlings. You remembered watching your mother work on other sets of armor, patiently waiting for the day your own would come. Eventually, you were gifted a helmet for when you took the oath but most everything else was made of leather and chainmail. It wasn’t until you were able to create your own armor that you had your own set. You’d grown out of that long ago though. Your hammer swung, the pounding of metal filling the room as you let yourself get lost in your thoughts. What in the hell was Din Djarin doing with Imperial Beskar? And if he had it did it mean they were back? You put your anxiety and fear to work, letting it strengthen your swings. If they were back, you’d need to be ready to protect the Tribe, to protect your small clan. You looked at the chest plate, the final piece you’d needed to complete your set, and smiled softly. You were rarely happy with your work but this one felt right, it felt finished. All it needed now was a coat of paint. You’d have to do that later though. Instead, you cleaned up the armory and put the pieces in their place for when you were ready for them next. After that was finished you slipped from the armory and made your way to your room. The one upside to living with the Mandalorian was that despite the overall lack of privacy provided by the tunnels and caves something as simple as a cloth over an opening was respected as a door and never moved.

You pulled the tarp open over the opening of your small room and got to work removing your leather armor and finally, your helmet, setting it on a ledge next to your bed made of a pile of fabrics and whatever could have been scrounged up. Despite the circumstances, you considered your room rather cozy and your bed comfortable. You lay down and pulled the blanket up to your chin, turning your back to the door should someone intrude for whatever reason.

Days later you had spotted the Mandalorian as he walked down the halls to the all too familiar armory, a smile gracing your lips upon seeing his return. You briefly make your presence known to him before slipping into one of the many side halls that connect to the maze you and your clan had learned to call home. You noticed that there seemed to be quite the commotion going on at the armory, so you made your way there, sure you’d heard Paz getting upset about something yet again. The older Mandalorian always seemed to be in a mood lately, so you mostly stayed out of his way. Your mother made quick work of dispersing the conflict and you joined her in the armory, watching her work. It was expected that one day you would take her mantle. Whenever it was, she retired you had to be ready to not only mold and shape Beskar into the best armor but also become a guide for the Tribe. Your mother had done her best to make sure you would be ready when she was gone, knowing she had left quite the shoes to fill. She was the one who made sure that everyone was safe, especially after the destruction of Mandalore. You stood, lost in your thoughts, along the perimeter of the armor. You moved expertly to the various points your mother had instructed you to go to long ago when you first began your training, making sure you had the best angle to view the work she was doing. It was rare that the opportunity came to make a full set of armor from beskar alone, especially all in one go. You stole glances at the Mandalorian who waited ever so patiently for his new set of armor. Once the pieces were formed you joined your mother in her work, shaping the metal to its final form and making sure that it would function properly. When she was pleased with the pieces you had worked on your mother had tasked you with the making of the whistling birds. You were sure your joy was evident as you began to work on your favorite thing to craft. You carefully placed each “bird” in its slot before handing your piece over to the Mandalorian. “You’ll have to show me your new set-in action.” You spoke as you set the piece on the table “It's rare I get to see my craftmanship at work.” Din nodded before taking the pieces and leaving for the room he rarely used, preferring the razor crest to anything here. You could hear your mother take a breath, preparing to speak. “Don’t start.” You mumbled, causing a soft, and rare, laugh to escape her.

You’d spent the rest of your day working on the finishing touches of your own armor. There wasn’t much paint to go around in the caves, but you’d managed to find a merchant in Nevarro that had some. Youd painted the edges of your armor a pale green, keeping the design rather simple. You wouldn’t have enough to cover the entirety of your set, instead settling for hints of color here and there. Your signet you painted a deep red doing your best to match your helmet. You finished off the rest of your detailing with dull blue accents. “Let's hope your paint has dried.” Your mother spoke from behind you “Din Djarin is in trouble. Put your armor on and meet the rest of us outside” You frowned and turned to her, it had been a while since you’d been caught in a fight. “You are no longer a child; this day would have come soon enough.” Your mother spoke before disappearing. You noticed the others running by, getting to the easy exit points. You quickly slipped your armor on stretching out a bit to make sure everything fit well before leaving in the same path you had watched the Armorer take. “You may need to fight your way there, but I want you on the Razor Crest. Whatever it is your Mandalorian has found is worth fighting for he will need help keeping safe. Understood.” Your mother commanded. “He’s not my Mandalorian.” You mumbled as you made your way out of the tunnel and into the light of day, or rather evening.

The fight had already begun by the time you had emerged from hiding. Most of the fire was in the middle of the street, leaving alleyways open and mostly safe. You ducked behind cover and moved in the shadows as you watched the rest of the Tribe come to Din’s aid. Despite his earlier qualms, you watched as Paz evened the playfield before spotting the Razor Crest. You booked it to the ship, noticing another form entering the hold. Frowning you picked up the pace, only slowing when you remembered you’d need to make a quiet entrance. You weren’t familiar with most of Navarro’s citizens, but it was hard not to recognize Greef Karga. “What do you think you’re doing here?” You asked the man, blaster at the ready. “I could ask you the same.” The man put his hands up, but you knew better than to trust his sign of surrender. You maneuvered so you were further into the hull of the ship, making sure his back was against the entrance rather than your own. “You could make this easy for the both of us and accept your defeat, but you look like a hard-way kinda guy.” Karga chuckled, shaking his head “Aren’t you a smart one?” His hands darted down to his blaster but before he could get a hot off you pulled the trigger on your own, shooting him in the chest. You watched as he flew back a bit before crumbling to the ground, an all too familiar Mandalorian facing you with a bundle in his arms. “Sorry to make a mess in your ship.” You smile at him under your helm, your blaster finding its spot at your hip. “We should go.” You made quick work of rolling the body out of the Razor Crest. “We?” Din asked, keeping the bundle of cloth close to him. “You think my mother trusts you to care for a living thing on your own.” You teased as you walked back over to him, trying to get a peek at just what was buried under all that cloth. “This isn’t your fight.” He contested, trying to find a way to get you off his ship. “It is now.” You shrugged, pushing past him and up to the cockpit.

[kaminocasey]

See You Again (Part 1)

WARNING: MANDALORIAN S3 FINALE SPOILERS

Summary: Din Djarin just wants to settle down and perhaps Grogu's pretty new teacher understands that.

Pairing: Eventual Din Djarin/Grogu's F Teacher!Reader

Warning: 18+ MINORS DNI; Teacher!Reader, Dad!Din Djarin, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Domestic Fantasy

WC: 1.9K

A/N: Can you believe I've not written a full Mando fic yet??? Everyone say thank you to Jon Favreau for giving Din and Grogu a house. <3 Domestic fantasy coming right upppp. Excited for part 2!

TAGLIST FORM

The Galactic Farmer’s Market at this time of morning isn’t too terribly busy. A little cool, maybe. But, It’s pretty manageable and you aren’t regretting your sundress so far. You know it’ll warm up around lunchtime. 

You don’t have work today, so you’re trying to get all your stuff done early for the day so you can relax tonight. You’re planning on making dinner and reading your new book. So, your typical night.

“Can I get a couple of these meilooruns? They look great!” You ask the Tarsunt vendor, handing him a few credits as you pick a couple up and stick them in your bag. “Thank you!”

As you walk away to the next vendor, to look at a few vegetables you could use for dinner tonight, you hear a droid-like voice arguing. When you turn, you’re met with a sight you can honestly say you’ve never seen before. A Mandalorian and a child inside an IG unit, arguing over the same fruit you just picked up. As a teacher, you’re met with all sorts of unique situations, but never one like this. 

“No. Hey, Grogu.” The Mandalorian sighs, trying to take the fruit.

“Yes.” The IG unit speaks for the child, making your eyebrows raise in amusement. 

“Give it.” The Mandalorian tries to reach but the child makes the droid raise it above his head so he can’t reach it. “Grogu, give it back-”

As the Mandalorian grabs the droid’s arm to pull it down, the hand around the fruit squeezes tightly sending meiloorun juice all over the poor Tarsunt who groans like it’s the worst thing that’s ever happened to him. 

“Uh oh.” You murmur, still rather amused, as the child drops the fruit, prepared to step in. 

The Mandalorian sighs again, sounding absolutely exasperated. Clearly this is not the first time something like this has happened. As you walk back over to the Tarsunt’s stand, you hand him a few credits. 

“Here.” You smile and hand the Mandalorian your meiloorun. “Maybe you can cut it up for him later.” 

“Oh…” The Mandalorian sighs. “That’s… very kind of you. But not necessary.” 

He tries to hand you back the fruit but you hold your hand up.

“Keep it.” You grin and nod in the vendor’s direction. “That’s probably one of the most interesting things to happen to him all week anyway.” 

The Tarsunt grumbles something in his native tongue and you can’t help but chuckle as you and the Mandalorian and child walk down the cobblestone path between all the other vendors. 

“Thank you for your kindness.” The modulated voice tells you.

“Believe me, I get it. Kids at this age can be a lot. But give them a death machine on legs and you’re probably asking for trouble.” You tease. 

He lets out a soft chuckle. “Yeah, this thing isn’t working for me. The IG unit, that is. It was a “gift” from High Magistrate Karga.” 

“Quite a gift.” You smile. “Especially from the Magistrate. You must be important.”

“Not really. Just old friends.” He tilts his helmet at you slightly before glancing behind him to make sure the child is following. 

“That’s nice. Greef is an old friend of mine as well.” You tell him as you near the end of the street. 

“Then perhaps you are the important one.” The Mandalorian teases. You think. 

You chuckle either way. “I mean, maybe. I do shape the minds of the young children of Nevarro.” 

“You’re a teacher?” He guesses.

You nod. “I am. Will I see your little one in class or are you just visiting?” 

“Undecided.” The Mandalorian stops at the end of the road and looks out into the distance, and when you follow his gaze, you can see multiple ships and what you see are other Mandalorians. 

He was part of the group who helped stop those pirates, you realize. They’re just camping out, from what you’ve heard through the grapevine. Your neighbor, Eia, had already developed a crush on one of them and was hoping that they’d stay, but from what the woman had told her, they were looking to retake Mandalore and weren’t planning to be camped out long.

“I see.” You nod. “Well, maybe I’ll see you around again someday. Bye Grogu.”

You wave to the duo and Grogu gives a little coo and wave as you walk back up toward the vendor stands to continue your shopping. When you look back, you can’t help but smile at the Mandalorian with his helmet faced in your direction. You can’t be sure if he’s still watching you, but you smile anyway and then continue back up the street.

Later that evening, you can’t help but wonder if perhaps you should’ve invited the Mandalorian and his child for dinner. But by the look of it, his clan was pretty large and maybe he didn’t want to separate from them. 

Cooking your dinner, you can’t help but let your thoughts linger on the mysterious Mandalorian. So many questions run through your mind. Was that his child? What did he look like underneath that beskar helmet? Why was he undecided if he was going to be just visiting? With all these questions running through your mind, you remind yourself it isn’t your business. 

You know very little of the Mandalorians. Just who they are, how they lost their homeworld, and how private they can be. You should make peace with the fact that you’re never going to find out. 

But still… your mind wanders.

A few days later, you’re cleaning your chalkboard as the kids play outside in the courtyard. It’d been a long day with the kids feeling rowdy from their weekend activities. They always come back full of energy, so you normally let them play a little longer in the morning. 

You finish scrubbing the board clean when you hear a modulated voice clearing in the doorway. The sound, admittedly, makes you more excited than you were expecting. When you turn your head to the voice, you find the Mandalorian and his little green companion, this time without an IG unit. 

“Well, hello there.” You smile at the helmeted figure leaning in the doorway and then look down at Grogu. 

“Hello.” The modulated voice sounds happy, which in turns your smile into a wide grin. 

The fluttering feeling in your stomach surprises you. It’s honestly a feeling you’ve not had in a really long time. What do you do with this feeling? Lean into it? There’s no way that this man feels the same way as you. You’re just a teacher. Granted, you have an exciting past… But you’re not that person anymore. You enjoy your solitude and your quiet evenings at home with a book, too much. Something a Mandalorian probably wouldn’t care much for.

“What can I do for you…?” You try to ask him his name.

“D-din… Djarin. And this is my son Din Grogu. Or just Grogu.” He sounds a little nervous to give you his name.

“Din Djarin and Grogu.” You grin up at him, stepping around the desk. 

Grogu makes his way over to the doorway to watch the children play. 

“Can he join them?” You ask his father. 

Grogu looks up at Din for permission to which Din nods. Grogu immediately scurries off into the play yard, joining a few children who are playing in the dirt. Din walks over to the doorway to keep an eye on the small child, and you join him, standing closer. 

He looks down at you and the weight of his stare seems heavier somehow. The dark visor makes him seem so… mysterious. So… far away. 

“Do you happen to have space for one more child?” He asks you, curiously.

It takes you by surprise for sure. You’d seen the Mandalorians’ ships all take off and not come back. Your neighbor, Eia, had been devastated that the woman she had spent time with had left. So to see this Mandalorian return, without his group, surprises you a bit.

But still, you smile kindly up at him. “Absolutely. Decided, have we?” 

He lets out a soft chuckle. “Yeah. Decided.” 

Your chest tightens at the content in his voice, like he’d gone through a lot to get to this point right here. You try to mind your business and not ask him.

“He can be a little handful, I should warn you.” Din tells you and you can hear a smile as he looks back at Grogu.

“Don’t worry, I specialize in little handfuls. I’ve got 12 of them.” You tease.

“Thirteen now.” Din teases back and you laugh. 

He looks at you again and the thought of what he looks like under the helmet comes back. Does he ever take it off? 

He tilts his head and your breath catches in your throat.

“Um… let me grab my…” You struggle, stepping away to regain your breath and to grab your datapad so that you can enter Grogu's information into your system. “Here. Just enter all your information and his so that he can start.”

He nods and takes the datapad from you, brushing his gloved fingers over yours as he takes it and you can’t help the rapid beat of your heart that picks up. 

Why are you acting like this? He’s a parent to a child who is now your student. Calm down.

You look out at the children playing, giving him a little privacy to fill out the information. Grogu seems to fit right in, all the kids starting to want to play with him.

“Easy with him, Lira. He’s smaller than you.” You tell one of the young girls as she tries to pick him up.

“Don’t worry about him. He can handle his own.” Din chuckles.

You walk back over to your board and pick up the cleaning supplies to put them back into the closet. As you turn around, Din is right there with your datapad, trying to hand it back to you. 

“Oh.” You feel yourself go warm at the sudden closeness again. “Thank you.”

“Thank you.” Din tells you. “Is he alright to stay for the day-”

“Yes, absolutely.” You nod, smiling. “Pick up is at three.”

“Perfect. I’ll see you then.” Din tells you and then goes to tell Grogu bye, who meets him at the door. “I’ll be back in a little bit. You’re going to learn new things from this nice woman, like we talked about.”

He talked about you? 

Din starts to walk back toward the door that leads to the street, and then stops. 

“You’ll comm me if there’s an emergency?” He asks and your heart warms at the concern in his tone.

“I promise.” You nod.

He nods again and then pauses again before leaving. “I… was really looking forward to seeing you… again.” 

You’re lucky you don’t immediately turn into a puddle right then and there as you smile brightly at the Mandalorian and bravely tell him, “I was hoping you’d come back.” 

“See you at three.” Din clears his voice and walks back out the door. Perhaps the lack of excitement in your life wouldn’t be such a turn off to Din Djarin.

TAGS: @twistedstitcher27 @misogirl828 @rebel-finn @grievouus @madameminor @dumfanting @rain-on-kamino @corona-one @tecker @ladykatakuri @brynhildrmimi @the-sith-in-the-sky-with-diamond @zoeykallus @maulslittlemeowmeow @littlemousedroid @arctrooper69 @rexxdjarin @agenteliix @padawancat97 @hated-by-me @sleepingsun501 @quigonswife8 @idlenesses @redheadgirl @dnxgma @themcuwriter @ashotofspotchka @sunshinesdaydream @crosshairsimp73 @ariadnes-red-thread @rosmariner @heyitsaloy @starstofillmydream @high-ct5555 @echos-girlfriend @sleepywych @nekotaetae @justanothersadperson93 @brownstalebread @aconstructofamind @book-of-baba-fett @chopper-base @palliateclaw @501st-rexster @dead-poolz @nahoney22 @where-is-my-mind-tho @jediknightjana @erishimoon @witching3 @queen-of-many-fandoms

[groguandin]

three tickets to the barbie movie pls

[sarcasmismyonlydefense24]

"Not all men..."

Yeah your right José Pedro Balmaceda Pascal would never treat me like this

[cass-hues]

✨Hope everyone has a wonderful May the 4th!! ✨

[eggdrawsthings]

goodnight 💤

[thefrogdalorian]

Din Djarin + Eyebrows

[mearchy]

The best fics are the ones that recognize that although Luke Skywalker may APPEAR on the outside to be a normal friendly twink who happens to have cool powers, especially when contrasted with such ship partners as Boba or Din or even Han, he is arguably the scariest person alive in the galaxy around the prequel era. AND, crucially, he is also a fundamentally weird guy. This man was homeschooled on a rural farm his entire life and then apprenticed to a swamp gremlin who showed him how to tap into the cosmic power of the universe. He blew up the death star age 19, killing approx 2 million-ish Imperials. He is a vortex of Force power that can communicate with the ghosts of dead Jedi. He’s staring into the distance and mumbling to himself and doing Yoda aphorisms and casually pulling out the “yeah I could crush that guy into a paste with my mind (:” and nobody around him knows what to do with that. I think he is a character who has very little frame of reference for how a Jedi or a person in general is supposed to act and there is some thing about him that is by necessity really fucking weird and a little scary but he’s so nice that it can throw you off the scent a little bit. Thanks for coming to my TED talk

[softlyspector]

Significant

Summary: Din has been calling you riduur for months. You finally find out what it means, and get a little more than you bargained for.

Pairing: Din Djarin x gn!Reader

Word Count: ~5.1k

Warnings: pining, absolute FOOLS in love, bit of grumpy x sunshine, lil angsty, possibly incorrect lore, fluff, lots of Mando'a (translations for the Mando'a at the end)

A/N: Happy Mandalorian Eve!! This is based on a short drabble I wrote, which you can find here! It's not necessary to read it first, though of course I recommend it! The reader and Din have been traveling together for a long time, and after removing his armor in front of the reader for the first time began calling them riduur.

“Riduur.” 

It may as well be your name, the way you turn at the sound of that word. 

“Din,” you return, adjusting the child’s little sleeve which had fallen down past his hand.

“Are you ready?” He asks as he tilts his head to the side. 

You smile and turn back to Grogu. “Dad’s impatient today, isn’t he?” The child coos up at you, lifting tiny arms, ready to be picked up. “Yeah, he is.”

“I’m not impatient,” Din grumbles lowly.

You raise a brow at that and lift Grogu into your arms. “You’re always impatient, Mando.” His head jerks to the side at your assessment.

You have to bite back a laugh. In truth, he is incredibly patient. Most of the time, and especially when it came to you and Grogu. The only time you’ve seen him truly lose his temper was with the Jawas, and really, that couldn’t be helped. 

The child reaches for Din when you turn back to him, and the Mandalorian immediately holds out his arms to take him from you. You deposit the little green baby there before grabbing your shawl. “Yes, we’re ready,” you finally answer. 

The baby gets tucked into the pouch at Din’s hip, before he descends the ship’s ramp out into the desert air that awaits you. 

You roll your eyes gently. 

Not impatient, but not entirely patient either. 

You follow, wrapping the light material around your shoulders. 

It’s subtle, but he does wait for you, his pace slower than if he were alone. His right elbow ticks out a fraction, and you smile before cupping your hand there. He would never ask you to take his arm, still the offer is usually there if he can accommodate it. 

He relaxes a little when you fit your hand against his bicep. “Supplies only,” he reminds you, ever practical. 

“Supplies only,” you agree. “Unless I see something for Grogu.” 

“The child is becoming spoiled,” he complains lightly. “We won’t have enough room in the ship soon.” 

You shrug and tighten your grip on his arm. You like the way he says we. So, you return with, “That’s just because our child deserves the best.” 

Din’s spine straightens a fraction and his shoulders tilt back. 

He’s somehow both stoic and incredibly bad at hiding his emotions. You can tell, just by the slope of his shoulders or the exact angle of the helmet or the precise way he stands or walks, exactly what and how he’s feeling. 

Or, maybe you’ve just spent too much time around him. 

Maybe, you just know him too well. 

And right now, he’s swollen with pride. Though you don’t know if it's because you’ve complimented the way he takes care of the child or if it were something else. Something in the way you said our.  

It’s not long before you reach the market, and Din sighs as soon as it comes into view. It’s much larger than the ones you normally frequent, a riot of color and sound that you both know you won’t be able to resist. The town seems to be in the midst of some kind of festival. 

The smell of fried food greets you before you’ve even breached the perimeter of the town, and your mouth waters. Something better than rations awaited you there. 

Din is single minded though, and you know he’ll immediately make for the most boring of the stalls and shops. 

Supplies only, after all, is what you’d come for. 

“Mando,” you remove your hand from his arm and he immediately halts at the loss of your touch and turns to you. “I’m going to go look around.” 

He stares at you, helmet tilting down. He doesn’t like telling you no, and knows it wouldn’t matter if he did anyways. But, he worries and so it takes a moment for him to reply. “Don’t go far,” he advises. “Do you have a comlink?”

“Yes.” 

“A weapon?” 

You pretend to search your person, “Hm, what’s that again?” 

“Riduur,” he reprimands your teasing. 

That word makes the inside of your skin light up pleasantly. Riduur. If only you knew what it meant. 

You’ve started to assume it means something similar to cyare or cyar'ika. But he’d had no problem telling you what those words meant. Darling and sweetheart and beloved. He’d had no problem telling you he was calling you beloved. 

But he no longer calls you cyare or cyar'ika. Since the first time he’d called you riduur, the day he removed his armor in front of you for the first time, he’d solely begun calling you riduur. 

Even your name is becoming a rarity from his lips. 

“Udesii! Yes,” you cross your arms. “You know I took care of myself for a very long time without you and nothing ever happened. I’ll be okay.” 

Din doesn’t answer, just sighs and gives a curt nod and marches off towards a shop selling medical supplies. 

The dramatics of it all makes you giggle. You like teasing him, especially because he thinks he hides how flustered you make him well. 

Although you enjoy traveling with the Mandalorian, alone time has become a complete rarity. You were always with Din, or watching your little green menace.

You eat your way through a couple of different stalls selling food, bundling up second and third servings to keep for Din and Grogu. 

Din wouldn’t think to get anything beyond rations. Both you and the child like a little more variety, where Din treats the act of eating like a maintenance routine. 

You drift past stalls hawking trinkets and jewelry, fending off the sellers as you crunch something sweet and sour you’d picked up at the last food stall, not entirely sure what it is.  

Textiles are next, bolts of cloth you run your fingers over but mourn not being able to afford. Still, it's nice to browse, nice to feel normal. The Mandalorian isn’t hunting someone for once, and you aren’t trapped in the interior of the ship, stale recycled dry air burning your nostrils. 

A little supply stop has become a little welcome relief. It’s giving you the chance to stretch your legs, to explore. 

Still, your mind drifts back to Din, the way he calls you something he would not name to you.

You’ve searched before, in other markets, on other worlds, for the answer to your question. What does that word mean and why won’t Din tell you? 

You’d tried to convince him once or twice, with gentle words whispered in his ear, when the helmet was off and your hands were pressed against his skin, the contours of his face still a mystery to you. 

Once, you’d felt the skin of his cheeks go hot beneath your hands when you told him he used his tongue so prettily, couldn’t he use it to tell you what riduur meant? 

He’d mumbled something else in Mando’a but had not explained himself. 

You can understand most of that he says now, but because he’s the only other speaker, you have to rely on him to tell you what new words and phrases mean.

Because the Mandalorians are such an insular people, you never come across any other speakers you could ask. There are no dictionaries to Basic that you could download and peruse. 

It’s frustrating, especially since the word seems to be laden with something heavy. Din says it with reverence, with a softness that doesn't cut through the rest of his words. His voice is softer when he speaks Mando’a anyways, but that word is held with a reverence on his tongue, like it’s precious. 

The only other time you had heard him use that tone was when he once called Grogu ad’ika, which meant child. 

You’ve almost given up on knowing, resigned to that fact that you may never know and he may never tell you.

Whatever it means, you’re sure it's important. You just don’t know why.

The market is loud, boisterous and colorful. Music floats through the air, shouts and laughter. 

It’s nice, it makes you smile and you wish you’d taken the child with you because you’re sure he’d have much more fun with you than with Din picking out rolls of bandage and rations and pulse rifle cartridges if he can find someone that has some. 

You stop suddenly in your tracks when you hear a conversation in a language you immediately recognize, the familiar syllables cutting through the afternoon chatter. 

You spin and find two men in robes speaking gently to each other in Mando’a. Before you can stop yourself, your feet have already carried you to their table where they sit sipping cups of caf. 

“Su cuy'gar,” you greet. They both look surprised, glancing at each other and then back at you. “Sorry to bother you. You speak Mando’a?” 

One smiles, “Yes. Of the few outsiders that do, I think.” 

“Were you foundlings?” It’s the only way, you think, that they could have learned it. 

“Once,” the older of the two says. “This one learned it at a university.” 

You can’t help the curiosity that burns through you, “At a university? Really?” 

“Only the very barest basics. From a woman being courted by a Mandalorian,” he dismisses with a wave of his hand. “That was a long time ago. Really I learned from him.” He gestures between himself and the other man. 

You shake yourself, “I’ve just never met another aruetii that does.” Let alone two of them, you think dizzily. Two outsiders who spoke Mando’a. 

“And how did you learn?” 

“My…” you trail off. 

Your what? You aren’t sure what exactly Din is to you, or what you are to him. You never have been. He treats you like you’re more precious than beskar, yet everything between you remains undefined. 

“My traveling companion. He’s a Mandalorian.” You swallow, “I wonder if you could tell me if you know what a certain word means? It’s one I’ve been curious about.” You don’t want to tell them that you’re seeking it out because it's something he calls you. That feels too private, too close to the chest. “He said it once and I’ve been trying to figure it out ever since.” 

“Why don’t you ask him?” 

“It would wound my pride. He’s already taught me so much. He overestimates my fluency.” 

They laugh and the man who was once a foundling says, “Yes, ask us then.” 

“Riduur,” you say, carefully pronouncing it so they don’t mistake it for another word. “Riduur,” you repeat with more confidence. 

The men glance at each other, brows raised. “Well, it has several meanings,” the more grizzled of the two says, “But I suppose it's all the same in the end. Spouse would be the most overarching translation. Partner, wife, and husband all work too.” 

For a moment, you can’t breathe, you’re sure your heart has come to a leaping halt in your chest. “Truly? Riduur?” You say it again, just to make sure. They laugh and nod and you decide to have your meltdown away from their table. “Well, thank you for clearing that up. Sorry again to bother you.” 

You turn away from them, a roaring in your ears. Your heart stutters in your chest. Riduur. He’s been calling you his partner, his spouse, for months? That word so softly spoken to you - to tease you, to call for you, whispered to you in the dark, said over and over, more than your own name. It meant partner, spouse, wife, husband?

Something inside you lights up with pride. The shape of it is warm, firm in the clasp of your lungs. Riduur. It’s a living, breathing kind of word, one that takes up space inside you. One you’re proud to bear the weight of, the title of. 

Spouse, you think, doesn’t carry the same gravitas as riduur. There’s something heavier and deeper in the word that a translation couldn’t really carry over into Basic. 

You start back down the road, smiling to yourself, but only make it several paces when Din steps up beside you silently from between two stalls. “Dank farrik,” you gasp, stumbling back. “Where did you come from? You scared me.” 

He doesn’t answer you, doesn’t even tilt his head towards you. You may as well have not spoken at all. 

“Mando?” 

Still, he doesn’t answer you. 

You raise a brow but don’t say anything else as he herds you gently out of the market, desert dust swirling around your calves. Eventually, when you reach the edge of the town, he asks, “Did you find everything you need?” His voice is flat, rough. 

“Yes, I got some food for you and Grogu to try. A little feast for you tonight, since it won’t hold.”

He merely grunts and you frown. “Is something wrong?” You glance over your shoulder. “Did something happen? Are we being followed?”

You glance around his legs at the baby, still securely in the brown canvas bag, who’s peering up at both of you with anxious eyes, big ears drooping. 

“No.” He answers curtly. 

The walk back to the ship is silent, and tense, and you aren’t sure why. 

It’s only when you’re in the safety of the mouth of the ship’s ramp, with the baby in your arms, that your irritation spills over. “Are you upset with me? I didn’t wander. I stayed close and had a weapon and -,” 

Din’s hands go to his hips, helm tilting at an angle as he regards you. His voice is agitated when he finally speaks. You expect him to tell you that you wandered too far, that he commed you and you hadn’t picked it up, that you’d unknowingly wandered into danger. And you expect to have to tell him once again that it's all fine, that you are fine, that you’d traveled without him for years and things always turned out alright. 

Instead, he says, “You should not call yourself an aruetii. That is not what you are.” 

For a moment, it doesn’t register with you what he’s talking about, that he’d clearly overheard your conversation with the Mando’a speakers, likely eavesdropped on it. 

All you are, for a few seconds, is confused. “But…I am an aruetii. I am not a Mandalorian.”

Din’s shoulders go stiff at your words. “That does not make you an outsider. You…you are far from an outsider,” he growls and suddenly spins away from you, his footfalls heavy and loud when he stomps across the hull.

He climbs the ladder to the cockpit and disappears, leaving both you and the baby alone, still standing on the ramp up to the ship. “He’s angry with me,” you say in disbelief, glancing down at the child in your arms, not really understanding why. “We’ll let him cool off,” you decide, bouncing the child against your waist. “Hungry?” 

The baby coos and you smile, worry biting into you as you settle with him in the mouth of the ship. The sun is setting on the sand, the air warm, casting red shadows over the world. There’s nothing around you but sand in any direction you glance, aside from the town from which you’d come on the horizon. 

In the distance, fireworks from the town explode in the sky. You point them out to Grogu, gently feeding him bites of food that you’d gotten at the market. He makes a sound that you suppose is a giggle, big eyes focused on the colors dissipating in the sky. He holds a tiny hand up, like he’d like it to fly to him. 

You curl a hand over his. “None of that,” you say with a laugh. “Those are meant for the stars, not you.” 

He goes back to eating, already distracted. 

A weight settles over your chest.

If Din heard you call yourself aruetii then he knows that you now know what riduur means. 

Maybe that was the true source of his irritation, that you’d gone behind his back to figure out what it meant when he clearly hadn’t wanted you to know.

You rub the tip of Grogu’s ear between your fingers and sigh. 

Any warm feelings you’d had are gone. 

Riduur. 

He’s been calling you that for months. But he hadn’t wanted you to know that he was calling you his partner. For some reason it stings. 

The Mandalorian is not cruel, not the type to play with another’s feelings. But, nonetheless, it feels like he might have been. Teasing you in a way you couldn’t begin to guess at. Or, like he could pretend without actually attaching himself to you, and you’d be none the wiser. 

You shake those thoughts away, listening to the music echoing over the sands. 

When Grogu falls asleep and the sun is just disappearing behind the horizon, you secure the ramp of the ship and carry the baby up into the cockpit. 

Din sits silently in the pilot’s chair, and doesn’t look at you as you tuck the child into the floating pod. 

You fidget with his blanket, not sure what to say. 

“I’m sorry,” he breaks the silence first. “Ni ceta.” 

“Din,” you perch next to him in the co-pilot’s seat. “It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have gone poking around where I don’t belong. I’m sorry.” 

His head tilts toward you, the visor impenetrable. You swallow when he doesn’t answer, an inexplicable lump forming in the back of your throat. “Don’t belong?” 

“I shouldn’t have asked them what riduur meant. You didn’t want me to know.” 

Din stands and holds out a hand to you. You take it carefully and let him pull you to your feet. “That is not why I-,” he stops. “Do you really not know?” 

“Know what?” 

“I should have been…honest about the name I’ve given you.” He tilts his head and releases your hands. “I’m upset because-,” the Mandalorian pauses and seems to consider his next words for a long moment. Finally, he sighs and simply repeats, “You’re not an aruetii. By definition you can’t be.”

You stare at him for a long moment, before shaking your head. “I don’t understand.” 

He huffs, helm ticking to the side again. “Would you call Grogu an outsider?” 

“Of course not,” you answer, horrified. “No.” 

“And why is that? He’s not a Mandalorian either.” 

You don’t have to think about it, shaking your head before he’s even finished speaking. “He’s your child.” 

Din steps forward, close to you, but doesn’t say anything. “Our child,” he corrects eventually. “I am upset because you don’t seem to know you are a part of our clan. Even after knowing what I’ve been calling you. Riduur, ner riduur, for months. You still don’t know.”

Oh. Oh. 

“Osi'kyr,” you murmur softly. “How could I know that, Din?” 

He stands silent and still before you, so still you aren’t sure he’s breathing. “I thought it was clear,” he says stiffly. “I thought it was clear I was courting you.”

Something pleasantly warm settles in among your heart and lungs. “Maybe you should explain your customs to me more thoroughly,” you joke lightly. 

He doesn’t laugh, shoulders tense, hands curled in anxious fists. 

“So why not tell me what the word means?” It seems a bit past courting to you, to call someone riduur. It seems to you he’s already chosen you. 

He shifts from foot to foot, the movement somehow laden with vulnerability and worry. “If you did not…want the same - I’m not sure I could bear that.” 

You stare at him, not entirely sure what to say to that. “So, what,” you start, “you expected me to one day just realize you considered me your-,”

“I would have told you,” he interrupts quickly. “One day.” 

“Told me-,” 

“What riduur means,” he corrects. “And asked if you’d like to be that.” Din takes your hands again, “Just know that you are part of this clan, whatever your answer is.” His voice is so sincere, it breaks your heart a little. “Whether you want to be attached to me or not, you have a place in this clan. You are not an aruetii.”

You tilt your head at the same time he does, the nonverbal cues you both habit in reflecting between you. “I’m just a bit confused. Was that your idea of a proposal?” You smile so he knows you’re teasing him. 

Din gives a long suffering sigh. “Mandalorians do not propose.” 

“Oh. So what do you do then?” You lift a brow, sliding your hands to his wrists so you can work on tugging one glove off at a time. 

“We make an agreement,” he says, not trying to stop you. His voice is hoarse. “We make vows.”

You don’t look up, tucking the gloves in your belt before tracing your fingers along the veins in his wrists, the lines of his palms. “Oh. And did you make vows to me that I wasn’t aware of?” 

You’re still joking, but Din takes your words to heart. He shakes one hand loose from yours and presses it beneath your jaw, tipping your head gently back. “I did. I make vows to you everyday.” 

All the air seems to get sucked out of the ship. You gape at him, mouth opening and closing without any sound coming out as you struggle to find words. He chuckles, low and breathy beneath the helmet. You imagine he must be smiling. “Now you see how you make me feel. Like I can’t breathe.”

You finally manage to take a breath, lifting your chin away from his fingers, threads of embarrassment beating under your skin at his teasing. “You could have told me, you know.” 

“It was too large a risk. I wouldn’t risk you.”

Maybe you should hesitate in your next words. 

But you don’t. 

You’ve never been surer in something. 

“Din,” you step close to him. “I would take those vows.” 

“They…they are heavy vows. Not meant to be taken lightly. They’re bonding vows.”

He thinks you don’t get it, that you still don’t understand. “I understand what kind of vows they are. What are the vows?” You step even closer, the heat of his body seeping into yours. 

He smells like sun, like spices from the market and oil on beskar. It makes you dizzy, the usual scent of him is much cooler. Evergreen and pine. 

The cockpit is dark, the very last dregs of light on the horizon gone. The contours of the helm are shadowed, the flicker of lights from the control panels reflecting in blinking lights over the visor. 

There is no hesitation in his voice when he finally speaks. 

“Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde.” 

You mouth the words, doing your best to translate them. 

But he’s spoken too quickly, and you only understand part of it. He waits for you to ask for him to translate, giving you a moment to attempt it instead of immediately telling you. 

“I only understand part…We are one together and-,”

“We are one when together, we are one when parted, we will share all, we will raise warriors,” he says easily. “We are - we are all of those things already. I have kept the promise I made.” 

Your throat is dry, and you can’t think about how that’s true. “We’re raising warriors?” You attempt a joke. 

“Would you not call the child a warrior?”

“I would,” you agree. “I would also still take those vows, now knowing their meaning.”

There’s a long pause in which you can feel the Mandalorian’s stare. His gaze is intense, assessing, hot against your skin. You patiently look back, waiting. “You don’t have to.”

“You think I don’t want to.” 

He huffs, “I…don’t want you to believe you have to make vows to me. You are a part of our clan no matter what.” 

“Would you still call me riduur?”

“If you allowed it,” he takes a breath. “Yes.” 

The lip of the helm drifts up and you can sense he’s no longer looking at you, embarrassed. “Din.” His head snaps back down. “I know I am not an outsider.” You wait for him to digest those words. “I know this is my clan now. I still would like to make these vows to you.” 

He reaches up and presses his palms to either side of your jaw, the crown of the helmet pressing softly against your forehead for just a moment when he dips his head. “If you’re sure, repeat after me. We’ll say them together.” 

“Elek,” you agree. 

“Mhi solus tome,” he starts, reverence and disbelief lodged in his voice. 

In the distance, more fireworks explode in the sky. The colors reflect in the glass of the ship’s front window, sparking over the reflective helmet. “Mhi solus tome,” you say slowly, careful to pronounce each word exactly right. 

You’d never imagined yourself as someone who would get married, and certainly not like this. 

But that was before you knew Din. And all this feels to you is right. It’s both sudden and not. 

This was meant to happen. All your years with the Mandalorian lead towards this. 

You repeat the rest of the vows after him, slow and deliberate. 

When the final syllable rolls off your tongue, a muted kind of joy overcomes you. You’ve been a part of it for a long time, but you feel it now, the belonging to a clan and people. 

Din releases you and leans back. His chest rises and falls quickly. 

You close your eyes and reach for the edge of his helmet. 

You want to kiss him at the very least. 

But when your fingers skim over the release, he captures your wrists in one hand. You let go and Din reaches up with his opposite hand to take it off himself. 

You expect him to kiss you right away, but he doesn’t. You can only feel the lingering touch of his gaze. 

“Open your eyes.” 

“What? No-,” you begin to protest. 

“Yes. You can now, riduur.” The word rumbles out of him proudly, heavy in his mouth. 

You tilt your head and frown. “Are you-,” 

“This is the Way.” His voice warbles, just a little. 

“Are you sure?” You get the entire question out this time. 

Now it’s his turn to tease you. “No,” he says dryly. “I’ll change my mind after you open your eyes.” 

“Ha ha,” you deadpan. “You’re very funny.” 

“Open them.” 

You think you might be more nervous than him to see his face. You honestly never thought you would get to, and you had long ago made peace with that. It didn’t matter to you what he looked like, you knew his heart and that was more than enough. 

You’ve tried to picture him before, from tracing your fingers over his face, but the image is only half formed and without detail. It felt wrong, somehow, too, to try to picture the face of someone who deliberately hid it. 

 Slowly, you peek your eyes open at him. Whatever you had pictured is nothing compared to the man you find yourself gazing at. 

A sense of vertigo sweeps through you, because it's almost like looking at a stranger. 

You have to resist the urge, for just a moment, to tear yourself away from him. 

His hair is darker in color than you thought it would be, but just as feathery and lightly curled as you imagined. Din’s eyes are dark, a deep brown that you’d like to spend lifetimes memorizing, falling inside. You were right too, from your explorations of his face with your hands, about the shape of his nose, his mustache, the patchy beard. You’d pictured his eyes all wrong, the shape of jaw.

One thing you couldn’t have guessed at is the naked expressiveness in his eyes. 

It makes sense though, he’s spent a lifetime without the need to school his features into anything other than exactly what he was feeling. 

You wonder how many times he’s looked at you with such longing, and you never knew. 

He says your name, a question mark tagged onto the end of it, his voice wrecked and strange without the modulator muffling his voice. 

The sound of his voice rips the upside down feeling away. It’s his voice, it’s him. Not some handsome stranger. 

Your eyes flit up from where your gaze had lingered on his lips, the pink shape of his mouth against golden skin. “I was right.” 

He frowns, eyes soft and worried. It shocks you again, just how open his emotions read in his eyes. “About what?” 

“I knew you were pretty. You are pretty,” you tease, pressing yourself against him, the hard contours of him biting into you. You fist your hands into the fabric at his sides. “Mesh’la.” 

Din frowns at you. “I told you that means beautiful, didn’t I?” His voice is playful and doesn’t match his expression. 

You nod and don’t answer, reaching up to cup your hand against his cheek. Din’s arm settles easily around your waist, dragging you closer, the weight of his helm in his hand heavy against your hip. Normally, you’d let him close the distance between you but you can’t quite manage to let him now, gazing instead at the planes of his face. “Mesh’la,” you tell him. “Ner riduur.” 

“That’s my line.” 

“Not anymore,” you tease. “Husband.”

You tip your chin into his and wait for him to meet you there. 

He gives a slight smile before leaning into you. “Not husband. Riduur.” 

“Right,” you agree, because really, it isn’t quite the same. It can’t be. “Ner riduur.” 

The kiss lingers long on your lips. He’s savoring you, a warm passion that doesn’t quite extend into heat. Din’s tongue meets yours briefly, the groan it tugs from his mouth sending flashes of lightning all the way down to your toes. 

The fireworks outside are no rival for the feelings clawing up the back of your throat. 

You want to tell him you love him, but you think he already knows. 

He breaks away to set his helmet down. When he turns back to you, his hands roam over you, free in their movement, tugging at the band of your trousers. 

You can’t stop staring at him, suddenly overwhelmed, drinking in the sight of him, the naked expression of him, everything he’s thinking spread over his face like a well loved language. 

All you’d wanted was to know the name he gifted you, instead - this. 

You map your hand over his face, tracing the divot between his brows, the curve of one sharp cheekbone. “I never thought I would see your face,” you whisper. 

Those soft, vulnerable eyes meet yours, arm wrapping around you again, as his bare forehead presses to yours, “And I always knew you would.” 

Thank you for reading! Please let me know your thoughts!

If you want more of Din and his riduur, Significant-verse drabbles can be found here!

Translations:

Riduur - spouse, partner, wife, husband

Ner riduur - my spouse, partner, wife, husband

Cyare - beloved

Cyar'ika - darling, sweetheart

Udesii - Relax, take it easy

Ad’ika - little one, baby

Su cuy'gar - Hello

Aruetii - outsider, foreigner, traitor

Ni ceta - an apology, rare

Osi'kyr - exclamation of surprise

Elek - yes

Mesh’la - beautiful

[softiepedrito]

yeah, I know.

[stealingpotatoes]

Actually lol considering the timeline, Ben would b around the age of Paz’s kid (Ragnar????) Leia should send him over to Uncle Din’s covert to hang out with other not Imperial goths/emos

would be fun seeing how mando kids react to a jedi/alderaan-ish kid loll

(commission info // kofi support!)

[fanatic-writers]

Adventures in Baby Sitting

Chapter Three: Shipwreck

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A/n: Chapter 3 and I haven't given up on this series yet! I'm so glad yall are enjoying it as much as I am. If there is anything you want to see from this series in the future, any headcanons you have for Mando, or anything at all really feel free to lmk and I'll do my best to incorporate it.

Word Count: 2456

Pairing: (Eventual) Din Djarin x Mandalorian!Reader

Warnings: Canon levels of violence but it's very tame, unedited like everything cause I'm lazy lol (this one may be more egregious than others...)

Summary: Reader is the Armorer's daughter and is also a foundling. She and Din have known each other for a long time but he was never quite able to break his shell. When the Mandalorians help Din escape with the child she is ordered to go to his ship to help him care for the thing.

Tag List: @theclassicvinyldragon @yeeteth-the-raven

You held on tightly to the child as Din swerved between shots, the already rocky situation was only made worse by some of the shots actually hitting their target. You mumbled words of safety to the child, although they were more for you than him. You heard the voice of the bounty hunter over the ship’s coms, he was asking for the child and you gritted your teeth. At this rate, he’d kill you all before getting his hands on the bounty. Alarms blared in your ears and Din gave you little warning before he rolled the ship over itself. You felt yourself getting lightheaded as the ship turned you on your head and then back around again. Just keep a hold of the kid, you reminded yourself as your stomach quite literally turned. “I can bring you in warm, or I can bring you in cold.” The words didn’t even register in your mind before you were jolted forward by Din hitting the brakes. You didn’t even realize the small yelp you let out at the sudden movement, your arms holding the child tighter in your lap. “That’s my line.” You heard Din say before blasting the ship to oblivion.

The alarms continued to go off before the ship went dark. In that moment everything caught up with you and you couldn’t help the stifled laugh that broke its way through your modulator. “You think this is funny?” He turned to look at you. His tone wasn’t harsh, instead, he seemed genuinely curious. Your helm turned in his direction, your body still shaking with laughter a bit. “You don’t really say that do you?” You watched as his head tilted to the side, questioning what you meant. “That’s my line?” You repeated, your voice dropping a bit to try and mimic his. He just shook his head in response. “Oh, my maker you actually do.” You’re body shook with laughter again, your brain would much rather focus on Din’s silly catchphrase than the fact that you were at the brink of death, or something close to it, a moment ago. “I can bring you in warm or I can bring you in cold.” You mimicked him again. “Alright, that’s enough.” He sighed, turning away from you in hopes that it wouldn’t seem like he was encouraging you with his attention. “It’s not a bad catchphrase.” You hummed in approval. “It’s not a catchphrase.” He contested “You say it whenever you gotta bring someone in, right?” Your question was met with silence on his end. “That’s what we call a catchphrase Little Bug.” You looked down at the kid in your lap who giggled at your comment. As you were speaking to the kid you noticed Din flipping some switches, the ship eventually coming back to life. It wasn’t long after that the ship was landing in its assigned spot. While he was landing you cradled the child in your arms, watching as he slowly drifted off to sleep. Setting him down in the single bunk on the ship you joined Mando as he began to walk out of the Razor Crest. You jumped slightly as he shot at the droids that sprang into action upon your arrival. “Still hate droids.” You mumbled, a woman screaming at the two of you drawing out your words. You watched as she looked over the damage, standing slightly behind the Mando. After the two spoke you left with him. “You’re sure you don’t want me to stay back with the kid?” You asked as you walked through the town. The Mandalorian shook his head. “I need you to get a few things while I work on finding a way to get the rest of the money we owe.” You nodded with a small sigh before he handed you a small satchel of coins, splitting off from him after he had done so.

You got the standard supplies, focusing on food for the three of you and scrounging up some spare parts for the ship. When you came back to the hanger you had your arms full. You nearly dropped everything when you spotted the child sitting with the droids and the mechanic. She shouted something about leaving him alone as you quickly dropped off the things you’d bought. “I told him I should’ve stayed behind.” You muttered as you took the kid in your arms. “So, what is it?” The woman asked. You shrugged “Our responsibility, a pain in the ass.” She could hear the smile in your voice as you wiggled a finger in front of the child’s face and he reached out for it, happily taking in his smaller hand. “You wanna come inside?” She offered and you obliged. The two of you talked about the ship and the kid, you learned her name was Peli. She got you some of the food she’d fed the kid and took him to the front room while you ate. You took your time with the meal, enjoying your private time more than actually eating. It was the commotion up front that caused you to put your helm back on and leave your little fantasy world behind.

“Woah, Mando, it's alright. She was just watching him while I ate something.” You assured him, stepping between the two as he demanded the child. After she chastised your parenting skills, she gave the kid to you and you passed him to Din for a moment. As you joined him and Peli outside you noticed a guy standing by two speeders. You looked between the guy, the bikes, and then Mando who was already giving the kid back to Peli. “There’s only two bikes.” You frowned, stepping closer to the Mandalorian. “You’re staying here. I don’t need to give her another reason to charge us more.” Mando responded and you sighed. You understood his reasoning, but you were worried about him. The two of you had spent a lot of time together whether either of you liked it or not and you’d started to grow attached once again. “K’oyacyi,” You sighed, making him promise you a safe return. He opted for a nod in response and you couldn’t help but suck in a breath as he sped off without even saying goodbye or explaining what the hell he was doing. “You have a lot of explaining to do.” Peli sighed as she looked at you and then made her way back inside.

“I can’t tell you Peli, he would kill me.” You laughed, trying to steady yourself as you held the light for her. “Oh come on, one little story isn’t going to hurt anyone.” Peli tried to coax you into talking. “It would hurt his pride. How is he supposed to be the big bad Mandalorian if people know how he was as a kid.” You countered. “We both know you’ll tell everyone the chance you get to.” “I will not.” She promised but you both knew better. The kid cooed at your feet, holding up a bolt. “What a good little helper.” Peli practically cooed. “You should take him out to the dunes. I’ll give you a scrap of metal, he’d probably enjoy some sledding.” You shook your head in response “I’m not a huge fan of sand.” You admitted “Plus it's not safe for him to be out there. Not with just me and a large open area.” Peli took the bolt from the kid and put it in its place as you handed her the tools she needed. “What is he some sort of wanted criminal?” She huffed as she tightened the bolt. “Something like that.” You retorted and watched as Peli stopped her work. “Well, you gotta tell me that story.” She spoke as she sat up from her spot. “There’s not much to tell. I don’t know why but the kid has a bounty on his head. Mando took him in, realized he was just a kid, and took him back. We’re just trying to avoid hunters now, maybe find a spot to lay low if we’re lucky.” You explained. “So you’re his partner or something?” Peli asked as she went back to work. You shook your head “I’m just following orders from my clan. Mando and I haven’t been that close since we were kids.”

Peli had stopped to take a dinner break and play a round of cards with the droids, the kid was down for the night, and that left you alone with your thoughts once again. You sighed and leaned back in your seat, your helm beside you, back to the door in case someone interrupted you. Peli had known to knock but you liked to be on the safe side. Your eyes drifted closed as your thoughts drifted off to Din. You didn’t know the kind of job he’d taken but you expected him back by now. The suns were starting to set, and you were getting worried. You had half a mind to get a bike from someone and ride off into the dunes, but you had no way of knowing what way they went. Without any sense of direction, you knew you’d get lost in the landscape of sand. You hadn’t realized it but at some point, you’d drifted off into sleep. In your dreams, you felt the hot suns of Tatooine beating on your face. Your helm had been discarded somewhere but you didn’t care. It was just you and Din, your head lazily rolling to the side to smile at him. His face was foggy, but you knew it was him, recognized the small details you remembered from when you were children. You remembered the tan of his skin, the deep brown of his eyes, eyes you imagined you could easily get lost in if he’d only let you see them once more. “What are you staring at?” He hummed, his voice clear without the addition of his modulator. “You.” You smirked, turning your head back up to look at the sky. “To be fair there isn’t much else to look at around here.” You teased as you sat up. For the moment you weren’t worried about the sand that would get caught in your hair and find its way into every nook and cranny of your armor. Hell, you weren’t even sure if you were wearing your beskar or if you were in plain clothes. None of that really mattered with the way Din was looking at you, a huffed laugh sounding like music to your ears. You turned back to look at him, he’d propped himself up on his elbows. “C’mere,” He murmured, and you leaned down, your arms caging him in. You felt your nose brush against his, your eyes fluttering closed.

You jolted awake to the sound of three loud bangs at the door. You slipped your helm on and for a moment you swore you could still feel Din’s breath ghosting across your face. Peli’s face greeted you with frightened eyes you weren’t aware she was capable of. She passed the child into your arms in a bundle of cloth before the same guy from earlier turned the corner into the room. “If he isn’t special then why does it take two of you to protect him.” He raised a brow and you felt anger begin to bubble in your stomach at his arrogance. “Two of you as in me and Peli or two Mandalorians?” You hummed holding the child in one hand as your other reached for your blaster. “Are you looking for this?” He hummed as he held the weapon in his hands, pointing it at you and the kid. “Thought a Mandalorian would take better care of where they left their toys, especially with the little guy running around.” As he spoke, he stalked towards you and Peli. You could hear the rattle of the terrified droids in the corned as he took the child from your arms. He pointed the blaster at the kid, and you froze. “Now you two are going to do what I say, or I ice the kid. Got it?” Peli answered for you, and you nodded, words unable to escape your mouth. Well, at least not ones that would help the situation. He guided you both to the hull of the Razor Crest, the blaster pushed into Peli’s back as the four of you waited for the Mandalorian’s return.

You were forced to stand by the man and watch as he had Peli cuff Mando. You were grateful for the helm that covered your face because you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at his little speech. A bright white took over your vision and thankfully your visor adapted to it. While the man was blinded you were able to snatch the kid from his hands and jump off the ramp to the ship. You quickly ducked under the platform and squeezed yourself back as far as you could, keeping the child close to you. You cradled his head into your chest until the blasters stopped, setting him down to catch your breath. You hadn’t really registered that Mando and Peli would be looking for the kid until you watched a familiar set of hands pick him up. You move from your hiding spot, walking over to the body that Mando was taking a satchel of coins from. You watched as he dumped everything from the satchel into her hand before following him back into the Razor Crest.

You had just put the child down in his makeshift bed, the excitement of the early morning seeming to knock him out. You settled into your seat, relishing in the peace of the moment compared to the chaos that you had left behind on Tatooine. “Why’s you call me Mando?” Din asked seemingly from nowhere. “What do you mean?” You knew his whole thing as a bounty hunter was anonymity. “Back with Peli-“ He started “Yeah I know when it happened Mando I was there.” You teased. Din turned the chair and looked at you “You did it again.” He pointed out. “I dunno, your whole persona as a bounty hunter is anonymity and mysterious guy behind the mask.” You’d never seen him work but his reputation had gotten around, especially within the community. “I mean sure I know your name, but it doesn’t feel right to say it.” Din frowned under his helm, and you almost thought you saw him deflate a little. “Do you want me to use your name?” You asked, your voice barely coming through your modulator. “We were friends once.” He responded, his voice matching yours in tone. “I wouldn’t be upset if you did use it.”

[martyfive]

hung pictures of old jedi masters up on my wall

to remind me that i am a fool

[gayspacemonk]

Luke compels people with the force a few times but Din never notices it's a force thing, he just thinks it's common sense that people do whatever Luke wants if he smiles a little and speaks softly

[puchosdementa]

[eggdrawsthings]

This is the May :) INPRNT