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draculasfavoritewife · 9 months

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Misconceptions

Summary: Traveling with the Mandalorian was always going to create false impressions -- if only they knew what he was like behind closed doors.

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!Reader

Warnings: Reader being a bit of a tease, implied smut, heavy sensuality and SOFTNESS! Din is a bit of a soft dom (according to me).

So I came up with this idea on a road trip last year, when I read a theory about the concept of Mandalorian celibacy, and the dialogue generator in my brain went off the rails 😁. My personal headcanon is that while Mando is not a full-on dom like I've seen some write him, he does like to be somewhat in control so yeah.

*Translations of less common words/phrases in Mando'a at the end

You knew something was wrong the second he entered -- or rather, stormed into -- the small room in the inn your little crew was occupying for the night. Normally even when fully armored he can move with surprising stealth, stalking his prey like a wild nexu on the prowl.

You've always wondered how he manages to not clank like a droid wherever he walks.

Now, though, none of that control softens the thud of his heavy footsteps as he passes you without even so much as a greeting and aimlessly unpacks his gear, taking no care to muffle the clatter of his personal arsenal before he chooses his pulse rifle to dismantle and start cleaning.

You approach him cautiously, noting the deadly sharp motions of his gloved hands and the stiff angles of his shoulders. He's quiet, much too quiet, only the crackle of his tight breaths sounding through his vocoder.

"Want some help?" you ask, keeping your own tone warm and flashing a brief smile at his gleaming helmet.

Silence.

Undeterred, you delicately pull his EE-3 carbine from the mess and seat yourself cross-legged near his feet, expertly taking it apart and starting to lovingly free it from the layers of buildup caused by frequent use.

A side glance reveals that his shoulders have loosened slightly, rolling forward as a longer breath drags from his lungs. He's not angry at you, as your unsolicited presence actually seems to have calmed him a tiny bit.

The pair of you work in the quiet for some time, only disturbed by the child whenever he toddles up to one or the other of you to eagerly show you some new insect he's found in the dust of your temporary lodging quarters.

"So," you finally say casually, not taking your eyes from the detailing of his rifle as you finish your task. "Want to talk about what's got you in such a snit?"

He snorts. "No."

"Din," you finally look up at him then, and see his head tilt towards you as it always does when his true name leaves your lips, "you know you don't have to shoulder everything yourself anymore. We're partners. I'm more than capable of carrying my share. What's happened?"

"It's nothing like that," he grumbles, his visor flicking away. "Someone just made me angry, is all."

You wait, opening your arms and lap to Grogu as he squeals and reaches for you. Din's already said more than he probably meant to, which means there's more coming.

You just have to wait for it.

He doesn't keep you waiting long, to both his surprise and yours. You've been wearing him down with your patience lately, it seems.

"Some piece of bantha fodder in the cantina made a comment about you after you took Grogu back up here," he mutters. "He had the GALL to ask me what I pay you."

You hear leather protesting as his dangerous hands clench into fists.

By what he leaves unsaid, you know the implications of the remark meant something much different than simply a relationship of business employment.

You blink up at him, oddly more touched by his rage towards the scum who would suggest such a thing than bothered by the story itself.

"If we weren't already trying to keep a low profile here, Cyar'ika, I would have stuffed those words back down his vile throat until he choked on them."

You rise to your feet, Grogu still cradled to your chest, trying to deny that you find his threat on your behalf so arousing. "Well, I can't decide whether to be insulted or flattered. I never thought I could pass for a courtesan."

"You're not helping" he tells you dryly. "And you know that's a load of bantha."

With a grin, you take the child to his little bed in the next room, and place your palms against the Mandalorian's cool beskar breastplate when you return. "I'm sorry for joking about it, ner'cyare. And I'm sorry you have to hear people speculating about our relationship. I wish they could keep those thoughts to themselves."

Letting your fingers drift upward to tug on his cowl, you add, "But it's not even as bad as what someone said to me while I was getting food for Grogu."

He goes rigid. "Tell me."

"Some old guy gave me a pitying look when he saw I was with you. Came over and basically said something along the lines of, 'Best to give up sooner rather than later, Sweetheart. You know those Mandalorians...they're CELIBATE.'"

Din's left speechless for a moment, and you can almost imagine his eyes blinking in shock.

"I...what...why...?"

You shrug carelessly and step away from his body, crouching down to reorganize his weapons where they lie forgotten on the floor. "It's just a rumor, Din. Since our people pick up foundlings all over the place and have so many rules of conduct. The galaxy's just jumped to the conclusion that our people don't actually engage in...intimacy, of any kind. I used to hear the same thing said about me, before I stopped wearing the armor."

He's quiet again, thoughtful as he draws the curtains across the window, shrouding the room in shadow. You allow a wicked grin to curve your lips for a moment, confident you've rerouted his focus from his earlier outrage.

A muted clank tells you he's removing his beskar now that it's dark.

"I hope I didn't offend you by relaying that story," you sing-song into the shadows behind you.

Nothing.

As soon as your guard is down, a pair of long arms has you in a durasteel grasp and you're lifted from the floor and tossed onto the bed before you can even make a sound.

"What's brought this on?" you half-laugh into his bare chest as he all but smothers you.

Hot lips tease your throat and rough hands crawl up your spine beneath your shirt, making you arch into him for more and wrap your legs around his hips.

"I'll show you who's celibate," he growls close to your mouth, punctuating his words with a kiss that hints at teeth. "Someone's asking to be reminded."

"Teach me a lesson, then, ner'alor," you hum into his hair, reverently inhaling the smell of leather, sweat, and smoke that always saturates his skin. Most times he protests your use of such an authoritative term for him, but when he's riled up, you know that some deep dark part of him likes it.

He needs no further urging, and soon both of your respective annoyances are long forgotten in the throes of bliss.

Much later, when the flames have cooled, you lie tangled together in the sheets, his head resting on your chest and your fingers lovingly working the knots out of his thick hair. As much as you yearn to someday look upon the face of the man you love so deeply, you can't deny that the darkness gives a gift of true closeness you might never have known in the seeing world. The flicker of his eyelashes against your skin and the way his now-tranquil breaths warm your body are enough in this moment, and no amount of credits could ever persuade you to give this up.

"Your helmet has really made a reptavian's nest of your hair this time, my love," you observe as your fingers catch in his curling locks for the umpteenth time.

"Mmm, most of that mess is your doing this time, Cyar'ika." Din's voice is husky, as it always gets when he's on the verge of sleep, but he sounds more at ease than he has in days, and you allow yourself to hope that he'll sleep through the night tonight, that his body will actually let him fully rest for once.

"At least I can undo that with time. I'm afraid once daylight comes, my new skin pattern won't be so easily hidden." You have a few suspicions already of where the bruising evidence of his zealous kiss blossoms across your flesh, and as you prefer to dress much lighter than your armored companion, such adornments do not go unseen.

"You love wearing my mark." There's the barest hint of smugness underlying his tone. "Don't try to pretend otherwise."

"...Alright, I won't." You reach down to toy with his mythosaur necklace, letting the tips of your fingers flit down his torso and feeling him pull you closer in response, his own hands settling into their place at the top of your hips. "Whatever other people might say, Din Djarin, I love you. Never doubt that."

"Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, Mesh'la."

You're about to drift off, there in his embrace, when a lonely chirp from the other room jolts you fully awake and you sigh.

"I'll go get him, Din."

"Hurry back," he murmurs, reluctantly releasing you from his warm hold.

You scrabble around in the blankets for a moment, unable to locate your clothes, until Din tosses his shirt at you. "Here, take mine."

You pull it over your head, feeling immediately oddly at home swimming in the folds of the massive piece of clothing. It's unexpectedly soft, well worn from years of use -- and abuse -- and it smells just like him. You smile to yourself as you crawl out of bed, the shirt's hem drifting to the tops of your thighs.

"Cover your eyes, I'm opening the door," you tell him.

"I'm not going to go blind from a sliver of light," he grumbles.

"Just thought I'd warn you." You push the door to your shared room open, about to go rescue Grogu from his solitude.

"Wait. Stay there."

You hear him dressing in the other half of his clothes, and the bed creaks as he rises. You instinctively let your eyes flutter shut as his quiet footsteps approach from behind.

"Just for a minute...I want to really look at you with my own eyes."

Your heartbeat quickens at that, and you realize then that he's never really seen you, either.

Through the visor of his helmet, sure, but he's never actually set eyes on you this vulnerable, this...undressed.

You're almost as much of a mystery to him as he is to you, intimately as you know each other.

It amazes you, the trust you've established between the two of you as he stands before you and his breath rustles your unkempt hair. He doesn't reach to cover your eyes himself, worried that you'll look at him without consent. He trusts that your love and respect for him is enough to keep your eyes softly closed.

He studies you, hands tracing down your arms and along the shape of your body covered in his dark shirt. His touch is light, almost shy as he takes the sight of you in. Never in his wildest dreams did he imagine that one day he would be standing here with someone like you, someone wearing his clothes, who loves him enough to share everything with him and not demand that he break his sacred creed before he's ready.

Someone who he wants, more than anything, to be his forever, to one day, if his life ever allows it, become his riduur.

The person that he almost -- almost -- for a second entertains the thought of telling to open her eyes, to really LOOK at him as he is, unmasked in the soft light of the hallway.

But he doesn't, not this time.

Someday.

You feel his hands frame your face, melt into the familiar calluses of his fingertips as his thumbs lightly caress along your cheekbones. You smile wistfully as he tenderly kisses your closed eyelids, then rests his forehead against yours in a keldabe kiss.

"Mesh'la," he hums quietly, and you can hear the hushed awe in his voice, the way he gets when he's overwhelmed by feelings he can't put into words. "Dank farrik, you're so lovely."

You shiver slightly at his words, feeling heat race to your skin. You don't know exactly why, but you've always loved the sound of his voice when he lets that particular expletive slip.

"Careful, Djarin," you murmur as your lips seek out his. "You don't want me asking for another round before you're ready."

"Why do you assume I'm not ready?" he teases, teeth catching playfully at your bottom lip as you pull back.

"Developing more of an appetite, I see." You rise on your tiptoes to brush your nose against his, grinning as always at the way his scruffy facial hair tickles your face.

"I had to, to keep up with you." His hands tighten on your waist, drawing you against his well-muscled body suggestively.

You reluctantly push away from him, though not before planting a kiss in the hollow where his throat meets his collarbone, a place you know drives him wild. "I do have to go. Your ad'ika wants his buir."

"That was a dirty trick, Mesh'la." He sounds put out, and a little pent up now.

You twist your finger in his necklace, before turning away so you can open your eyes and finally go rescue your foundling. "I'll make it up to you later, Cyare. I promise."

"Don't make me pay you," he deadpans, reminding you of the comment that first started off this very pleasurable evening.

You smirk, knowing he can hear it in your voice as you saunter away. "Oh, I'm very certain I'll get exactly what I want from you."

When you finally return, the child clutching the folds of your borrowed shirt, he's in bed again, so once the door is shut the darkness swallows you in its comforting shroud once more.

You listen to Grogu's happy squeaks as he clambers across from your chest to Din's, and the answering murmurs of his father. Content in the company of the two beings you love most in the galaxy, you stretch out to lie against your lover's warm body, relishing the temporary luxury of a soft mattress to sink into and room to spare. You're not going to wake up with kinks in your spine for the first time in forever.

"You should get a bigger bed on the ship," you suggest through a yawn. "This is awfully nice."

"What's wrong with mine?" He sounds offended, the fingers of his free hand searching until they find their way beneath the draping excess of his shirt that's still cocooning your form. It surprised you at first, probably surprised him too, just how much the man craves these rare spells of skin-to-skin contact, made all the more meaningful by his personal restrictions. You settle into his languid stroking before mustering a reply.

"It's just nice not to worry about falling off the bed when all three of us are together."

"I suppose," he concedes, pausing a moment to no doubt smile at the tiny snores of the now-sleeping child. "But there is something to be said for how close necessity draws us. Don't you roll away from me in the middle of the night."

"Or what, you big gundark, you won't pay me?"

He squeezes the soft part of your waist at your teasing. "Maybe I won't."

"That's a breach of contract." You tangle your legs with his and wrap your arms around his midsection, assuring him without words that you're not going anywhere. "Admit it, you'd like it too. Imagine a world where you don't wake up every morning with stiff muscles." You lazily start to knead into his back, soothing out the weariness and tension that like to take up permanent residence there.

He sighs appreciatively, breath hitching slightly whenever your ministrations encounter an especially stubborn knot. "I do not wake up EVERY morning with stiff muscles."

"Could've fooled me, with the amount of old-man groaning I hear whenever you get out of bed."

"I don't do that."

"Why do you think I always wake up when you leave, hmm?"

"Because you're incapable of keeping yourself warm and you need me to keep from freezing to death." His reply is certain, leaving no room for further rebuttal.

"Kriff. You do know me too well. You still sound like an old man in the mornings, though."

"Don't argue with me, Cyar'ika." Din's voice is warm, but his hand starts straying from platonic towards more intimate. "You're at a bit of a disadvantage."

"How so?" You shouldn't ask, but an impish desire to hear him actually voice his dangerous thoughts overpowers your common sense.

The smirk in his voice is audible. "You have a much more difficult time keeping quiet than I do. You wouldn't want to wake the kid now, would you?"

"Dank farrik."

He relents when you wordlessly concede, returning to a comforting caress rather than an instigating one.

You've almost dozed off again in your shared darkness when the mattress bucks as he hauls himself out of bed to take Grogu back to his own room. You gaze through half-closed eyes at his silhouette when he pauses, back-lit in the warm glow of the opened doorway. You take him in without detail for a brief moment, the curves of his well-defined shoulders and arms, the textured mess of his hair, the slope of his prominent nose. Your heart blossoms with the affection and passion this wounded, pure warrior ignites within you, and you are hit once more with the desire to truly see him, bare and in the light, all his barriers laid down for you.

He's the only man you would ever consider taking as riduur.

Someday.

Before you know it, your brave hunter has returned to your embrace, leaning over you and trapping you between his arms as he rests his scruffy cheek against your smooth one, the two of you allowing a long moment to simply breathe each other in, thankful once more to whichever gods you may believe in that for one more day, you are alive, and you belong to each other.

Then he rises to his knees and pulls you up with him, his breath warm on your skin.

"Don't ever leave me, Mesh'la," he whispers roughly into your throat.

Your head snaps back in delight at the sensations his mouth stirs within you, and your nails scrape across his scarred back in answer, drawing wordless sounds from deep in his chest.

"Never, ner'cyare. I would hunt you across the stars if ever we were parted."

He sighs, the movement of his body rocking yours. "Thank you."

"Can I keep this shirt?" you ask saucily.

"Yes." His hands curl around its hem and start lifting. "But take it off for now."

You hum questioningly as you allow him to guide the thick fabric over your head.

"After all," and his voice hardens, taking on the dogged quality that makes him the best there is at what he does.

"I haven't forgotten about that next round you promised, my love."

Ner'cyare = My beloved

Ner'alor = My leader/boss

Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, Mesh'la = I love you, Beautiful

Riduur = Spouse

Ad'ika = Little One/Small child

Buir = Parent

#mandalorian x reader #din djarin x reader #x reader #female reader #the mandalorian #mandalorian and grogu #bounty hunter #steamy #din djarin #soft #star wars #found family #i love him so much #this is the way #I'm a huge sucker for the wearing his shirt trope if you can't tell 😋

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theidiotwhowritesthings · 1 year

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A Fresh Start [1]

Din Djarin x F!Reader

Warnings: use of fake name, reader is hiding from a shady past

Word Count: 4,506

Summary: When you made plans for your future they never involved being hired by a Mandalorian to baby-sit his adorable, green gremlin of a child. However, after your life fell apart in the span of one disastrous night, you found it to be the only feasible option you had left. Nevarro was a far cry from Coruscant, but the thriving community turned out to be exactly what you needed. Every day you spend in Nevarro you fall more and more in love with your new life, but when your past rears its ugly head you find that perhaps peace wasn't meant for everyone.

Chapter #01: TWO PORGS, ONE BLASTER

Chapter Summary: The Marshal is looking to hire a nanny, and you just so happen to be moving into the city.

“remember to live while you’re busy surviving.” -d.j.

Din Djarin was busier these days than he ever had been before. Even compared to years ago, when he was picking up dozens of bounty pucks and collecting quarries left and right, it was nothing compared to now. If he had known that being Nevarro's marshal would be so hectic, he may have never accepted it. At the thought, he sighed. That was a bold faced lie. He still would’ve taken the job in a heartbeat because the pay was better than anything he had ever made previously. Speaking strictly in terms of credits, it was significantly less than the various bounties he’d pick up, but the job brought him peace of mind. It brought safety to Grogu. More than just safety, it gave the child the opportunity to grow and learn in an environment where he wasn’t at risk. They had settled here a couple of months ago, and for most of that time Grogu had been happy and free of night terrors. It was a blessing Din couldn’t quantify. He’d work every second of every day if it meant the child grew up safe and loved.

At the thought of his son, he picked up his pace toward the repair shop run by Peli who had ventured from the sands of Tatooine to the growing and thriving Nevarro. She was usually the one who watched Grogu while he was working. When Peli couldn’t, there were a handful of others in town who were more than happy to help out. Din was eternally grateful that the community was willing to go above and beyond as a favor to him. In the beginning, he had actually brought Grogu with him on the job. It wasn’t absurd. Back in the day, when his journey with Grogu first began, he brought the child along on bounties. A day in the life of a small community Marshal was actually quite tame in comparison. Still, that wasn’t normal, and Din wanted normal. School would be starting up soon, as summer ended, and Din was excited to get Grogu enrolled.

He had a stable job and they had a home. Starting Grogu's education was the next step in establishing picture perfect normalcy.

The loud noise of Peli’s shop filled the air as he got closer. All three of the garage’s hanger doors were lifted and open, and Din could see it had been a busy day for the mechanic. Ships, speeder bikes, droids. There was a large collection of mechanical works being actively repaired.

“Peli! Marshal's here!” A mechanic barked out the moment he stepped into the garage. Din turned his way, but the employee didn’t bother looking up from the work they were occupied with.

Din pressed further into the shop. Helmet glanced around, looking for a blur of chaotic green, but his eyes didn’t land on his son. “Mando!” Din spun in place as the curly haired woman marched up to him. Peli was one of the few people in Nevarro who didn't refer to him as Marshal. She said she didn't want it to go to his head. Other mechanics dove out of the way to avoid her path. Though she was short in stature, Peli could command a room with voice alone. Her jumpsuit was covered in splotches of engine oil. “Took you long enough!”

“Peli.” Din nodded in greeting. “Where’s Grogu?”

“Your son,” Peli jabbed a finger in his direction, “ate a handful of bolts today.”

Din stiffened. “He what!? Where is he?”

“Just joking. He didn’t.”

“Peli, that isn’t funny.”

“It’s not a joke.”

Din resisted the urge to palm the front of his helmet into his hands. He let out a weathered sigh, “Did he eat metal bolts or didn’t he?”

“Not today. No telling about tomorrow.” Peli scoffed. “This shop is no place for a kid! I’ve been telling you that for weeks now!”

Din set his hands on his hips. “No, you haven't.”

“Well, I’ve been thinking it!”

The sound of familiar babbling alerted him to his son’s presence, and Din turned in time to see Grogu quickly waddling in his direction. Argument with Peli forgotten, he grinned and scooped up the child who continued to babble enthusiastically.

“Hey there, you little womp rat.” Din rubbed his belly and Grogu wrapped his arms around his hand in response. The sound of his laugh made Din chuckle himself. As important as his goal of normalcy was, Din missed the uninterrupted time he used to have with his son. There was a lot wrong with their previous adventures, a lot of danger, but nothing beat the long days in hyperspace and hiding where his only responsibility was to care for the child. “I heard you’ve been giving Peli trouble.”

Grogu laughed again⏤ not even attempting to hide his guilt. Peli wagged her finger in his direction once more. “You see? It’s only a matter of time until he swallows one of my tools. Then what would we do? I’d be a tool short!”

“I’m sorry, Peli.” Din chuckled. “School will be starting up soon. You won’t have to watch him during the day then.”

“He’ll still need watching after, won’t he? Your work day isn’t done until evening!” Peli argued. “And what about the nights when you get called into work?”

Din winced, but he kept his head still so Peli wouldn’t notice. She wasn’t wrong. There had been a handful of times when Din's presence was required at the station and he was forced to drop Grogu off with Peli in the dead of night. She lived in a small apartment beside the shop, and her shop was on the way from their home to the station. Stopping to leave Grogu with her was too easy to resist. It wasn't like he could leave the child at home alone.

Grogu began to tap on the side of Din’s helmet and he began to bounce the child in his arms to distract him. “I’m sorry, Peli. I really appreciate everything you do for us. You know that, right?” Peli waved his words away with a huff. As brash and grumpy as the woman could be, especially on a busy day, he knew Peli loved spending time with Grogu and he knew that complaints aside she’d always be willing to help out. It was why he was so grateful for her. “My hands are tied right now. I don’t know what else I can do.”

“Hire someone, you lug!” Peli scoffed. “Get a live-in nanny.”

“Live-in nanny?” Din questioned, not bothering to hide his skepticism.

“Yeah. Someone who can watch little bright eyes around the clock when you can’t. Someone who’ll be there at 3AM when you get called into the office. Why do I gotta come up with all the good ideas around here?”

Din didn’t love the idea, but he couldn’t deny the merits of it. Once upon a time, he would’ve shot it down immediately. However, he wasn’t who he once was. Din had learned that going out on a branch to trust someone didn’t always end bloody. The community was filled with people Din had taken a chance on and was rewarded in his risk. He had friends he trusted, and they never would've been in his life if he hadn't taken the risk in the first place.

“Where…” Din cleared his throat. “Where would I even find one?”

“Whoop, whoop!” Din and Peli both turned to see a mechanic a few feet away. They had been buried under a speeder bike but jumped up in excitement. Dirty goggles hung around her neck and the light pink color of her skin made the black grease stains stand out more. “Howdy, Marshal Mando.”

“Nima.” Din greeted with a nod. He didn’t know every single person who worked for Peli, but Nima was Peli’s right hand mechanic. The young Twi’lek was extraordinary with a wrench if Peli was to be believed, and Din knew it took a lot to impress the older woman. “How are you?”

“Real swell.” Nima stepped closer, rubbing her hands on a rag tucked into her overall pocket. “Not to be nosy, but I heard you got a job that needs filling and I have a cousin who needs a job.” Din tilted his head and waited for her to elaborate. “My cousin is moving here⏤ well, let me clarify, she’s not my actual cousin by blood. We’re cousins by marriage. Her mom’s sister married my mom’s brother. We⏤ wait, they actually got divorced like a year ago so I don’t know if we technically⏤”

“Nima!” Peli barked. “The point!”

“Right, right, right.” Nima shook her head. “My maybe not cousin is moving to town, and she’s looking for work.”

Din lifted a hand to lightly grasp Grogu’s hands as the kid tried to pry his helmet up. “Does she have experience with kids?”

“Oh, absolutely!” Nima nodded. “She’s a superstar with kids. Total magic.”

Peli slapped her hand against the beskar of his chest plate then pointed at him. Din sighed and gave them both a slight nod. “I’d be willing to meet her, but that’s it. No promises.”

“She’ll be in town by the end of the week!” Nima cheered. “I’ll bring her around!”

Grogu began to whine, and Din thanked both women before making his way out of the garage. It was time for dinner and the child was quick to get fussy when a meal wasn’t on its way. Plus, Grogu had gotten accustomed to nights in the privacy of their home when Din would remove his helmet. It had become a part of their routine.

“Buir, buir, buir.” Grogu chanted.

“I know, I know.” Din chuckled as he unlocked the front door. Once in, he used his free hand to pull his helmet off and tucked it under his elbow with a smile.

Grogu patted his face in excitement. “Buir!”

“Let’s get some dinner ready, ad’ika.” Din stepped further in. Hearing Grogu speak Mando’a warmed his heart. Hearing him speak at all warmed his heart, really. Din was convinced his son knew more basic and Mando’a than he’d shown. The few things he did say he only said in the safety of their home. Another reason Din was excited for school to start, he hoped it’d excite Grogu into speaking more.

Din set the boy down so he could move around the kitchen easier, and he couldn’t bite back the smile of ease on his face. He loved his life, he loved his son, and Din didn’t think things could get more perfect than what it was right now. He just hoped adding in a new face wouldn’t disrupt their routine.

You absentmindedly let your fingers trace the ugly, jagged scar along your collarbone. The wound had healed months ago, but there was something about the rough skin that haunted you. It didn’t hurt. If anything the tissue there was numb, and that bothered you more than anything else. For some reason, it felt wrong that you weren’t in pain.

The transport ship rumbled to a stop as it landed, and it snapped you back into the moment. You straightened in your seat and glanced out the window. A year and a half ago nobody ever spoke of Nevarro. It had been a blip in the Outer Rim for bounty hunters and those hiding from the New Republic. Now, it was a bustling trade post flourishing with life. From where your ship sat on the landing pad, you could see the white and gray buildings of Nevarro stretching out into the black, glassed land of the mountains that sat on the edge of the lava plains. It still wasn't a very large community. Not yet, at least. Your eyes scanned the land beside the landing pad. You had lived in the beautiful greenery of Naboo, the bustling cities of Coruscant, and the sandy dunes of Tatooine. This was vastly different in comparison.

You let a few others leave before rising yourself. As you followed the very small crowd off the ship you stretched your legs out best you could without stopping. It had been a long trip from Mos Espa to Nevarro. The second your feet stepped onto the landing pad you heard your name being screamed by a familiar voice. It was almost odd to hear it said aloud after so much time, but the voice of your old friend kept you from flinching. A broad smile crossed your features and you barely had time to turn before you were tackled in a hug.

“Oh, I missed you so much!” Nima cheered in your ear. She squeezed you tight enough that all you could manage was a small pat on her back considering she had your arms pinned to your side.

“I missed you too.” You wheezed. “And now I’m beginning to miss air.”

Nima released you, taking a step back, and you sucked in a large breath. She bounced in place, her pink lekku whipping around her, “I’m so happy you’re finally here! It’s been way, way too long!” It was true, and seeing Nima brightened your mood significantly. “How was your trip-”

The beginnings of your name began to slip from her mouth, but your hand snapped out to cover her lips. Her eyebrows rose in confusion, and you just offered her a sheepish smile. "Soran. Call me Soran. Remember?" Her eyes widened and you could see a flash of regret in her eyes. She had simply forgotten. "It's okay. No biggie. Just... Soran, okay?"

"I'm so sorry. I just got so excited." Nima apologized. "Don't worry, I didn't use your real name with anyone in town or anything." You nodded and made your way to where luggage was being placed on the landing pad from the storage bin. Nima walked a step behind you. You scooped up your bag, wrapping it around your shoulders, and Nima looped one arm through yours. "I'm so happy you're here."

The words were said with such sincerity that it warmed your heart. It made you wish you had taken her up on her offer ages ago. She began to drag you across the landing pad toward the start of the town. Her cheery attitude and happy-go-lucky demeanor was contagious. She was talking up a storm, something about work, while you gazed at the street you walked down. The path was paved and the street was filled with people milling about happily. A few vendors sold goods in the open at stalls, and you could hear the music of a band from further down the street. It was a cozy and warm atmosphere, and it wasn't the kind of place you expected Nima to settle down.

You met Nima during your teenage years when part of her family married part of yours. The two of you had grown close and without a doubt she was one of your closest friends. Family really. It was why at your absolute lowest you had caved and accepted her invitation to join her in Nevarro. Nima worked at a local mechanic shop which turned out to be her calling. She had always been good at tinkering with anything mechanical, but she was thriving under the instruction of the woman she worked for. At least, that's what she was constantly telling you. Nima had found her happy place, and you were ecstatic for her.

“⏤and Peli is still awesome.” Nima continued. “When we're not busy, she's letting me work on this old Razor Crest with her. It's some sort of secret project and the ship is in really bad shape, but I'm learning so much. It’s the best job ever.”

“That’s amazing, Nima.”

“Oh! And speaking of awesome jobs, I got you one.”

Your eyes widened. “Huh?”

“A job and a place to live. I got it covered.”

“Wow. I’m…seriously impressed, Nima. So, that means your boss is okay with me helping around the shop with inventory and stuff?”

Nima paused, then cursed in her native tongue. “I knew I was forgetting to do something. I was supposed to ask Peli about you.”

“If you didn’t ask her if I could work there, then where am I working?” You questioned in confusion.

“So, the Marshal has this super cute kid, and he needs a round the clock nanny.” Nima gave you a thumbs up. You blinked in shock, unable to find the words to voice your disbelief. She took this as a victory cheered. “I knew you’d love it.”

You shook your head. “No, no. This is a bad idea.”

“What? No way.” Nima shook her head with a pout. “You need a job and you need a place to live. I got you both in one. Two porgs, one blaster.”

“I⏤That’s⏤You said it wrong.” You said.

Nima furrowed her brow at you. “No, I think you just don’t get it. It means, like, you have two problems, the two porgs, and one solution takes care of both. One blaster.”

“It’s two porgs, one stone.”

“Why would I use a stone to hit a porg when I have a blaster?”

“You wouldn’t, but if you had a blaster you could shoot way more than just two porgs.”

“Yeah, but you only have two porgs right now.”

You waved your arms in the air as if you could swipe away the pointless argument. “This is⏤ No. We're done with that. My point is, this is not a good idea. I’ve never been a nanny before. The last time I baby-sat a kid was literally ages ago, and it was for a few evenings. I didn't live with the kid or the family.”

“You’re great with kids. I’ve seen it!” Nima argued in your favor.

“Being good with kids is not the same as helping raise one.”

Nima shrugged. “Nuance. Besides, everything else in town right now is part time work and you said you wanted a full time job.” You had said that. The more time you spent busy, the less time you had to think. That was the plan at least Bury yourself in pointless work. “I mean, you could pick up the job of local physician.”

You stiffened. “Nima⏤”

“Our main doctor sucks. Like you wouldn’t believe. Laziest asshole this side of the Outer Rim. It's the one fault of Nevarro in my opinion.” Nima scoffed. “You would do so much better⏤”

“Don’t.” You said firmly, and Nima grew quiet. “I’m not… I’m not doing that right now. I couldn’t even if I wanted to. I’m not allowed to⏤ to⏤” You cleared your throat. “I’m not allowed to practice medicine until the trial is over. Officially.”

Nima squeezed your arm. “The trial will be over before the year's end, at the latest, and there is no way they aren’t throwing that kriffing asshole in jail for the rest of his miserable life.” This was the exact thing you wanted to avoid. It’s literally why you ran away in the first place. “Nothing about what happened was your fault.”

“Nima, can we not?” You blurted. “I just…” Your lungs felt heavy and even though you were more than capable of breathing none of the air you sucked in was rewarding. “Tell me more about the job. The Marshal’s kid.”

Nima shot you a concerned look before nodding. “Right.” She forced a smile onto her face. “He’s a Mandalorian and his son is a 50 year old precious, green gremlin.”

“Um, what?”

Nevarro was shockingly beautiful. You had heard it was, and that it was slowly becoming a staple of the Outer Rim, but hearing it was different than seeing it with your own eyes. The population was about four thousand and it was constantly growing. Every single person you passed took the time to greet Nima, and she took the time to introduce you. It hadn’t been an exaggeration when Nima said it was the kind of place where everyone knew everyone. The two of you emptied out at the end of a street into a large, open plaza. In it's center sat a tall bronze statue of a droid.

“That's the Magistrate's building.” Nima pointed to the tall, intricate building behind the droid statue. It was active with people going up and down the stairs that led into the building. “Magistrate Karga is super cool. He used to hand out bounties to hunters. Wild shit.”

“So, the Magistrate was an Agent of the Bounty Hunters’ Guild and your Marshal is an actual Mandalorian?”

Nima nodded. “The Marshal's Deputy used to be a Shock Trooper.”

“Wow. I’m not sure I’m qualified to even live here.” You mumbled.

“Don’t be silly. You’ll fit right in.” Nima slotted her hand into yours and began to drag you down the street. She had taken you to her small apartment first, to give you time to set down your belongings and wash up, but she was quick to pull you back out into the streets. It was cute how eager she was to show you around Nevarro, and you could tell between her and everyone you met how proud they were of their community.

Nima pointed out a few shops as you passed, but it was clear that her aim was to take you to the Marshal's station. You shot her a dry look that she only grinned at in response.

“Seriously?”

“He needs somebody super soon and you need a job. Plus, a place to live. You think I want you on my couch for the rest of your life?”

You shoved her with a laugh. “I haven’t slept on your couch a single night yet, and you’re already tired of me?”

“Just come on.” Nima dragged you building nestled amongst others. It was decorated similar as the rest of the town with white bricks and dark blue flags.

The Marhsal's station wasn’t overly large. Outside, parked to the side, were a few speeders and inside the front doors was a small lobby with a woman sitting behind a desk. Nima greeted her by name, introducing you in a rush, before pulling you through. The receptionist didn’t seem surprised by this behavior and didn’t make the moves to stop either of you. You wondered if Nima came barging in here often. Was she close to the Marshal?

The hallway from the lobby led into a clean and brightly lit room. The back wall was made of windows where the lava plains could be seen since the station was at the edge of town, and there were three desks planted in the center of the room. Off to the left side were two cells, cordoned off with silver bars, and you found yourself happy to see no one was currently being held in custody. Despite having the cells present, the entire room had a casual feel to it. A dart board was hung up on a wall, darts sticking out of it, and the desks were covered in office supplies and holopads.

“What’re you doing here, trouble maker?”

“Cara!” Nima cheered as a large woman stepped into the room from a different door. She untangled her hand from yours to rush over and greet this Cara woman with a hug. She was tall and broad, and the tattoo band around her right upper arm hinted to you that this must be the Deputy Nima mentioned earlier. The ex-shock trooper. She surely looked like someone who used to work in that line of action. “I brought my cousin by to say hello!”

Cara’s dark eyes rolled over to you in amusement. “Yeah. I see the family resemblance.”

"This is Soran." Nima introduced you with the name you had adopted months ago for the sake of anonymity. “And this is Deputy Cara Dune. Resident badass.”

“It’s nice to meet you.” You offered your hand. “Can I call you Cara or do you prefer Deputy badass or…?”

Cara chuckled. “Cara works.”

“Where is everyone?” Nima glanced around the room. “I’m looking for Marshal Mando.”

“Hey, Mando!” Cara yelled back through the door she came in from. She marched past the two of you to drop down into a chair at a desk. She rested her hands behind her head and casually kicked up her legs. “Our generator out back keeps cutting out.”

Nima's eyes widened, curious, “Oh, yeah?”

“It’s been a wreck since early this morning.”

“Cara, it’s making that noise again. Can you call Peli?” A deeper, modulated voice called out. You straightened in your posture as a Mandalorian dressed in silver beskar stepped into the room. Everything you knew about Mandalorians came from legend and stories. You had never met one before. The Marshal’s broad figure and confident, yet casual pace, screamed power. A blaster was hooked to his hip. He was the picture of intimidation, and you’d find yourself nervous if it weren’t for the baby carrier strapped around his chest⏤ the one with a large eared, small green toddler tucked safely in place. It cooed happily with his hands wrapped around the fingers of the Mandalorians gloved hand.

Nima clapped her hands. “Don’t bother Peli! I’ll fix it right now!”

“I’ll show you where it’s at.” Cara pushed up.

You opened your mouth to argue, but no words came out and you watched in shock as your friend abandoned you with the Mandalorian and child. You blinked in shock, mouth held open. Suddenly, Nima stuck her head back in the room. “Oops. Mr. Marshal Mandalorian, this is my cousin I was telling you about.” She grinned at you. “Cousin, this is the mighty Marshal Mandalorian and his adorable green bean child I told you about.”

With no further words, she left once more. You were gonna kill her. Most definitely. The sound of a throat clearing made your eyes snap back to the man standing across from you. His silver helmet had a t-shaped visor of black glass that gave you no hint at the expression he wore. The two of you just stared at one another for a long moment. Awkward silences were the bane of your existence and you tried to avoid them at all costs. To a fault, arguably. You thrust a hand out to him with a nervous smile. "Hi. You can call me Soran. I'm the cousin Nima always talks about, but I'm not her actual cousin, er..."

"Right." The Mandalorian replied. He shook your hand. "Call me Mando."

"Mando? Like, short for Mandalorian?" You chuckled, and he didn't reply. You rubbed your hands against your pants. Thank the Maker, he had been wearing gloves and couldn’t feel your clammy palms. If you hadn't already decided to murder Nima for abandoning you in this situation, you would've chosen to do it for offering your services to this man. A service you weren't even qualified for. Still, you needed work, a lot of it, and if this was your best option you'd do what you'd have to. “So, is this your son?”

At the question, the child began to babble happily. His adorable, nonsensical words were a good distraction from beating yourself up over asking such a stupid question.

“Yes. This is Grogu.” He responded. The modulator gave his voice a husky quality that was hard not to notice. Grogu was still babbling, but now he released his father’s hands to reach out to you. He opened and closed his hands in a grabbing motion and at the small child’s request you couldn’t help but lift a hand up to him. Grogu grasped at your finger and you offered him a small smile. “Nima says you’re looking for a job.”

Your eyes snapped up from the kid to Mando. “Uh, yes. I am.” It was silent between the two of you again, save for Grogu’s happy voice. “To be honest though…" Your brain screamed at you to lie. Tell him you had an extensive history of babysitting and were well suited for the job. However, lying had never come natural to you. It always left a terrible taste in your mouth. You sighed, "I’m by no means a professional nanny. I’m actually not even an amateur one.” Mando didn’t respond or move his head in any way to hint his thoughts. You cleared your throat. “What I mean is, I like kids, and I’m responsible enough to keep one alive." You winced at your wording. "I just- I’m a quick learner and I'm dedicated to the work I put my mind to.” Grogu tilted his head in the cutest manner you had ever seen, but his father stayed silent. You let out a low whistle. “I am not doing a very good job of selling myself, am I?”

As seconds passed, you were tempted to throw yourself out the back window and find the nearest river of lava to jump into. Just to hide from your embarrassment. Finally, he spoke, “Where are you from?”

Your eyes widened at the direction his question took this conversation. “Oh. Naboo. I was born there, grew up there too, but I lived in Coruscant for a long, long time. Only recently moved to Mos Espa on Tatooine. That's where I just came from.”

“What kind of work do you usually do?”

As if this casual interview couldn’t get worse. You rolled various answers around in your head before settling on the best thing you could. “I worked in a medical clinic.” He was quiet and you assumed that meant he wanted more. As much as you hated lying, as terrible as it made you feel, this was a necessity you reminded yourself. This kind of lie wouldn't hurt anyone. It would protect you, keep you safe. “Receptionist." You blurted. "I scheduled appointments, re-supplied the stock, counted out credits. That kind of stuff.”

“Work…keeps me busy.” Mando said. “I just need someone else around. Keep an eye on the kid while I’m out and sometimes at night if I get called in.” Your eyebrows rose. “I haven’t ever hired a nanny before. I’m... not sure what it’s supposed to entail or the usual pay. I just need help.”

You nodded. “I can do that. I can be helpful. I’m not sure of the pay either, but I’m also not picky. Maybe just a trial period, and see how it goes? A learning curve for both of us.”

Mando nodded in agreement and held out a hand for you to shake. A sigh of relief left you and you tried to pull your hand away from Grogu who refused to let go of your fingers. You lifted your opposite hand to awkwardly grasp his outstretched hand and shook it once. You didn't quite know how to feel about this acquisition. This wasn't where you thought your life would end up. The thought of starting this job filled your belly with nervous energy. You had to succeed at this. Honestly, you were just happy the Mandalorian was willing to give you a chance. More than anything that was what your life needed. A chance. An opportunity. A fresh start. On the plus side, learning how to do a completely new job would be a good enough distraction from your past, surely.

A/N: if you see this on AO3 and think ‘omg she stole this’, I promise I didn’t. That’s me on AO3 too. Pinky swear.

#the mandalorian #din djaren #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #Female reader #mandalorian and grogu #grogu is a little shit #but a cute little shit #cara dune #peli motto #nevarro #star wars #i'm still stupid bad at tags #but whatever #protective din djarin #good dad din djarin #nanny AU

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