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okdeedee · 1 year

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lay down your head

a very small din djarin x gn! reader sickfic . reader,,, works with mando? is hired by him? live-in employee. idk. the razor crest still exists. handwavey in terms of chronology.

an: because i have a shitty cold / fever / idk right now. so i daydream about how din djarin would take care of someone. me. us. whatever.

warnings: fluff. the mortifying ideal of being vulnerable with your colleagues/friends/crushes. no use of pronouns other than "you/your" and no y/n.

feat. trying to debunk the theory that being in the rain/being in somewhat cold weather will make you sick, one fic at a time. (hypothermia is real, catching a cold/the flu from being in the cold is not.)

wc: 1.3k words of 11pm feverish delirium.

It starts as a funny feeling behind your nose. As the day goes on, it spreads down to the back of your throat. Then there's the melancholy dawn of a dull headache and your joints start to hurt more than they usually do.

You're helping Mando carry a bounty back to the Crest at around three in the morning, Coruscant time, and suddenly it's ridiculously difficult.

The bounty is a fairly waiflike Twi'lek, so you're not sure why you're struggling. He could carry her on his own, sure, but you've watched him move enough that you can tell he's got back problems, so you try to help him carry heavy or awkwardly shaped things.

This Twi'lek in her hoop-skirted Opera-Concert-Goer finery definitely counts as the latter.

You watch him a lot.

The way he moves, how he interacts with his child, his prowess in combat. His proficiency with weapons gets you hot under the collar, sometimes.

But he's gruff and quite reserved, and you've taught yourself not to expect anything from this arrangement the two of you have. You haven't touched him before - not even to shake his hand.

When you trip over your own feet and the bounty goes lurching toward the floor, the Mandalorian pauses and glances at you with what you think might be annoyance.

But you can't see his face, obviously, and you sort of can't see full-stop in this dark alley, so it's anyone's guess.

By the time you get back to the Crest, your eyes burn with the effort of keeping them open. You don't want to be a liability, so you keep your head straight and you don't show any sign of weakness.

Once the bounty is frozen in carbonite, Mando climbs up the ladder, Grogu gurgling happily in his satchel. He doesn't seem to have noticed anything's really wrong with you, which is a relief. As soon as his boots disappear into the cockpit, you slump down to the floor.

Mando doesn't need a co-pilot - you're often down here during take-off anyway, tidying or putting your weapons away.

You value your alone time as much as he does, which is nice. He never pries when you need some time away from him and his little green kid.

You ache all over and you're shivering, but at least he can't see you. You're so tired that you fall asleep with your head resting against the weapon cupboard's door.

After he gets the Crest out of Coruscant's atmosphere and into hyperspace, Din lets Grogu play with a very small selection of the control panel that will not have drastic effects on the ship.

It takes a while, but the child's movements grow lethargic, and soon enough, he's asleep in Din's arms.

Din places him gently into his mobile cot so as to not wake him by taking him down the ladder, and realises he hasn't heard you move in over an hour.

Which is somewhat alarming - you take turns in the cot in the hull, and since Din can sleep in the pilot's chair, he figured you'd sleep there.

But he never heard the cot door depressurize and slam open, nor did he hear you pottering around like he usually does.

So he makes his way down the ladder, and he's bewildered by what he sees.

You're slumped on the ground, neck bent at an uncomfortable angle against the cupboard. You're breathing through your mouth a little raggedly, so fast you're almost panting, and there is a trickle of mucus coming out of your nose. Your hands twitch where they're draped across your torso, and your skin looks dull.

His heartrate skyrockets - he's a seasoned warrior and you're just his employee, so it probably shouldn't - and he moves over to you instantly.

Before he can think, he turns on the thermal view on his helmet, and sees that your head is hotter than the human head usually appears. So is your whole body.

He flicks it back to normal as he crouches next to you.

"Hey, wake up," he mutters.

He reaches out a hand to touch your shoulder, but he stops. He hasn't touched you before. Not intentionally. He wonders if you'd mind.

He thinks about it more and more each day.

Touching you.

Holding your hand, standing shoulder to shoulder, stroking your face.

Pressing your foreheads together in the way of his people, even if it's through his helmet.

But this is to make sure you're okay; it's different, so he reaches out and gently shakes you by one shoulder.

"Hey, you need to wake up," he murmurs.

You grunt, and your voice sounds like the rumble of footsteps over gravel.

"Can you open your eyes for me?"

Your eyelashes are a little crusted together, but you manage to open them. Your stare is vacant.

Din starts to panic.

"Did someone poison you? Did you eat something bad? Are you alright?"

You give him a sleepy chuckle, and your eyes close again, which is not helpful.

"Hey." He says with the sort of no-nonsense tone he uses with the child.

You blink. "What?"

"Did you get poisoned? Or spiked?"

"'M fine, Mando."

"You're not."

You huff, which sets you into a fit of coughing.

"What's wrong?" He asks.

You look at him with those bright, bloodshot eyes. You sniff and blink a few more times, blearily. It's silly, because he's really worried there's something wrong with you, but the open, sleepy expression on your face fills him with affection.

"Sweetheart, please."

You smile just barely. "Really, 'm fine. Just'a cold," you mumble.

"How would you have gotten a cold? The rain yesterday?" Din starts to spiral; he's supposed to protect you, whether he's ever expressed that to you or not, and now you're sick-

"Prob'ly that club a few days ago. Lots'a people. Confined space. No ventilation. Wonder why you didn't get sick."

"My helmet filters out most toxins and germs." He says.

You reach out and fiddle with the edge of one of the pouches strapped around his calf. "Lucky boy," you say, grinning dazedly.

You look incredibly unwell, but you're touching him, joking around with him. His heart pounds.

Then you groan and put your hand to your head, and he's whirled into action again.

The next half hour is hard to remember in full detail. You're so tired.

These are the glimpses you're conscious enough for:

Mando lifts you up, even with his bad back, and sits you up properly. He gets painkillers from the 'fresher, which you try to refuse, but he practically force-feeds them to you. He gives you his water canteen and tells you to take twenty sips of it.

He holds a cloth to your nose and tells you to blow your nose into his hand, which is mortifying, but you're too dazed to do otherwise.

He uses a cold, damp cloth to wipe your face and neck down, which makes your skin erupt in goosebumps.

"Too cold," you grumble.

"Almost done, baby."

The heat that rushes through you at the sound of his gruff, modulated voice calling you 'baby' almost cures your chills for a second.

"Can I hold you?" the Mandalorian asks softly.

If you were awake, you'd freak out about this ridiculously attractive and emotionally distant man making an offer like that, but being held just sounds nice right now, so you whisper, "Yeah."

Next thing you know, the battle-hardened, ruthless Mandalorian bounty hunter is sitting behind you, one arm around your torso, the other stroking your forehead.

You're in between his legs, your back against his chest.

This is not how you thought your recovery from illness would go.

You find you don't have any reason to complain.

His armour's a little cold, and it shocks you at first, but once your feverish body heat warms it up, it's soothing. He smells good - beskar doesn't have that tangy scent so many metals have; it's cleaner, earthier. He smells warm, inviting, human.

You like this Mandalorian. Quite a lot, as Mandalorians go. And just as a person in general.

He chuckles; a deep, comforting rumble that you feel in your back ribcage before you hear it.

"What're you laughin' at?" you mumble, burrowing the side of your head into his chest

Another shorter, breathy chuckle. "What you just said."

Oops. "Didn't mean t' say that. Out loud, I mean."

"I'll forget I heard it."

"No you won't. You remember everything."

The chin of his helmet rests gently against the crown of your head, and he takes a deep breath in.

"Sleep, cyare. I've got you."

#that's the end #get u a man like that #idk where this comes from #he's a good dad so i think he's just generally a good caretaker maybe #din djarin x reader #din djarin x gn reader #din djarin x gn! reader #din djarin x you #din djarin #din djarin x gn!reader

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agentscamander-romanoff · 1 year

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I am so tired of people hating the mandalorian season 3

#like it's not bad as people say #it's not even bad #it's good #it's different from previous season but that doesn't make it bad #like season 2 was different from season 1 #but they are good #I think most people just wanted baby and dad show but now it is going on bigger scale with Bo but I like it #also mandalorian culture?that what i want from shoe about mandalorian #people need to understand that Din and Grogu won't disappear they are the heart of the show #the mandalorian #star wars #din djarin #mando #bo katan kryze #paz vizsla #grogu #the armorer #the mandalorian season 3 #grogu djarin

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gooddadtournament · 11 months

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Good Dad Tourney Week 2 Matchup 3

#yagi toshinori #bnha #din djarin #the mandalorian #good dad tournament

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silly-starwars-shitposts · 6 months

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Grogu in Aq Ventinan robes

(Din's not crying ur crying) bro gave his kid the childhood he never got T~T

#grogu #grogu djarin #din grogu #good dad din #aq ventina #grogu in aq ventinan robes is my soul #greenest of beand #my sweet green boy #green beans #green bean #green bean grogu #my art #grogu my beloved #tha mandalorian #the mandalorian art #starwars art #star wars

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sinfulskywalker · 1 year

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Sinful, it's been so long since I asked you anything. What would Anakin do if he found out Luke was secretly dating Din in high school?

Hello Anon, it has been a while since I answered any asks. I do apologize. </3 But enough sadness, let's get to the goodies :)

Anakin would blow a gasket. His baby sunshine dating behind his back? Heeeeeeeelllllllllll no. Of course Anakin would over react, or be upset (masked as anger in typical Anakin fashion) and try to put an end to whatever was going on. I like to think that Luke would plead for Anakin to get to know Din before he struck the poor teen down.

Anakin would comply and later the next day he's calling Din 'son' and 'kiddo' after realizing they liked the same motor sport teams, enjoyed working on vehicles and Din would tell Anakin his aspirations to be a special agent because he wants to help people and make the world a safer place.

Anakin would be surprised to hear Din is thinking about adopting a child as soon as he's 18 and would try to tell the kid to take it slow and save his money and go to school before thinking about becoming a parent. I also like to think Anakin would see himself becoming a mentor to Din, much like he was to Ahsoka when she was younger. This is a young man entering society with a head full of knowledge and he wants to ensure he goes into the right direction.

Perhaps he's misjudged Din, he supposes. Then again could you blame him for reacting in such a way given the fact Leia picked the worst boyfriend on the planet just to get under his skin?

Din is approved to continue dating Luke. But must have him home before 11.

#anon asks #anonymous #anakin skywalker #luke skywalker #din djarin #dinluke #dinluke asks #anakin is a good dad #just wants whats best for his son #and he misses leia #she moved out early and it broke his heart

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engagemythrusters · 1 year

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Din Djarin: my sons gonna fight

His son: a literal toddler traumatised by war and death who absolutely never wants to fight and only wants to spend time with his dad

Din Djarin: yeah he’s gonna win

#THATS A BABY. AN ACTUAL BABY.#AND A DEEPLY TRAUMATISED ONE AT THAT #y’all he literally never fights and this ep when he was made to fight? literally didn’t do it until he knew he only wanted to please Din #and then after he had a bunch of traumatic flashbacks #y’all that kid is not a fighter just let him hang out in space with his dad #ALSO DIN STOP PUTTING YOUR SON IN BABY FIGHTING RINGS GOOD GOD #din djarin #grogu #star wars: the mandalorian #the mandalorion spoilers #I know I’ve made this sort of post before BUT JESUS

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icecreambeach · 1 year

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another thing i love about Din is what a patient, indulgent father he is despite being a gnarled ball of martial prowess. he barely even expresses annoyance at Grogu's mecha-suit antics, let alone tries very hard to get him to stop. he never loses his temper or uses his power to force Grogu to obey him. that may seem like a low bar to some, but from an action hero in a show predominantly meant for male audiences? idk. i like it.

#good dad din djarin makes me insane #din djarin #grogu #a clan of two #the mandalorian #star wars #the mandalorian spoilers #spoilers #s3 mando spoilers #mandalorian spoilers

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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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dindjarindiaries · 6 months

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#a tough one. because he's such a good dad i'll cry #din djarin #the mandalorian #polls

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lukedjarinsblog · 1 year

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still hilarious to me how everyone were talking about how will din do his bath on the living waters to seek for redemption and some were like "is it going to be hot" "is he going like, kind of naked or something""we will have a scene of him without the helmet" but instead what we got is him being dragged to the bottom of the water and bo-katan saving his ass for the fourth time like we fr were not expecting that

#me: omg we will see him all damp without the helmet or something #din: gloo gloo gloo gloo gloo #grogu on his mind: dad is not having a good day at all #din djarin #the mandalorian #i know the mythosaur dragged him but the idea that he has such big ass head for how DENSE he is that it made him get YANKED to the bottom #it just makes me clackle so hard I'm sorry

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wantonlywindswept · 1 year

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Good Dad Paz pt 4

one | two | three

wherein good dad paz has some bad dad trauma to work through, and dumb dad din tries to play devil’s advocate against himself

hoping the backstory comes through in a way that makes sense? feel free to lmk if not.

adding ‘vod’ (sibling, comrade) to the untranslated mando’a list b/c i needed ‘brother’ for other things. may or may not go back to change previous versions

---

Of the many issues Paz knew Din had, he'd never expected self-worth to be one of them.

In retrospect, he probably should have.

"My original task was to bring Grogu to his people," Din said, after sitting back by the fire and recounting his journeys since the massacre on Nevarro. They'd never had a chance to talk about it on Glavis; Paz had been too bitter to try. "I knew that I couldn't keep him. It was...easier, to remain unattached."

Paz looked down at the child. Grogu was leaning against apparently-not-his-father's thigh, cooing contentedly, little hands still wrapped around the now empty cup. Din's hand rested atop his head in a seemingly unconscious gesture, thumb absently smoothing down one ridiculously long ear.

Paz was pretty sure Din became attached to that kid within less than an hour of meeting him.

"You are no longer unattached," he pointed out, "And the Jedi are no longer his people. We are."

Din inhaled a sharp breath, stilling.

Had he truly not considered that?

Paz studied him for a few more moments, taking in his protective posture, his hunched shoulders. The way he occasionally looked down at Grogu like he still wasn't sure why the kid was there; like he thought that at any moment, the child might change his mind and leave.

Ah.

This, Paz understood.

"You think you would make a bad father," he concluded.

Din tensed, but didn't reply. Paz tilted his head in understanding.

After all, he knew the feeling.

Paz leaned back against the wall, tapping his fingers idly against one of his cuisses. A slow beat, calming: one of the old remembrance songs turned into a simple rhythm.

"We," he said, "Are not kind men."

Din did not object. Paz didn't expect him to.

"You have hunted bounties with no thought given to if they deserve it. I have killed beings whose only crime was wandering too near the covert. We chose to follow a Creed that put our people over all else. This is the Way."

"This is the Way," Din murmured. The words sounded flat on his tongue, hesitant, as if wondering if he had the right to speak them.

"We chose to be Mandalorian. And every day, Ragnar continues to choose to be my child. Every day, I am humbled by his choice. No matter what I think of myself or who I may be, he is the one who decided that I am a father worthy of him."

"Grogu is too young to choose," Din said flatly.

Paz snorted.

"To swear the Creed, maybe. But if he could choose between staying with the Jedi or being with you, he can choose to become your son. It sounds like he already has."

"He doesn't have to be," Din argued. "We are all raised together; he could be part of the covert without tying himself to me. I don't need to be his father."

Din had a very punchable face. Paz forgot that, sometimes. But he'd already taken off his gloves, and he wasn't in the mood to break his knuckles against that empty beskar skull.

The two of them tended to solve most of their disagreements with their fists: they were, after all, Mandalorian, and shouting matches were harder with broken ribs. It had been that way since they were children, squabbling over who got the last slice of uj'alayi, or who did better in training. The fights got longer and more bitter as they got older, but there was always a sense of catharsis afterward, no matter who won.

It was, frankly, better than the alternative.

Paz studied his vod, his friend, and remembered a shellshocked young face beneath a mop of brown curls. He remembered a quiet boy learning the Way and never once questioning his place in the covert--even when perhaps he should have.

"I never thought," Paz said slowly, deliberately, "That you would be so cruel to deny a child a Clan, as you were."

He'd heard Din make less agonized sounds from being stabbed.

"No," Din choked out. His grip tightened on Grogu, enough to make the little one squeak in concern. "No, that's not what-- I would never--"

"You treat him as your own," Paz continued ruthlessly. "You have fought and bled for him, cared for him when no one else did. You broke the Creed to put his safety above all else. Are those not the actions of a parent?"

"But--"

Paz stood, frustration and real fury caught behind his teeth as he glared down at his stupid, ignorant almost-brother.

Din always knew best how to make him angry.

"He left safety with the Jedi and crossed the galaxy to return to you, and you would sit here and deny him a place at your side?" he demanded. "Would you have him also follow after you on his knees, hoping for a family that he will never be granted?"

"Paz--"

Paz wouldn't do this again. He wouldn't stand by and watch as another child was crushed by disappointment, strung along with promises of belonging to a Clan: pushing themselves to their limits to prove their worthiness, only to fail, because there was never the possibility of winning in the first place. Because love couldn't--shouldn't--be earned, and family wasn't something that should be used as a reward.

He wouldn't allow it. Not now, not when he actually had the ability to prevent it, now that he wasn't a fucking coward--

"Maybe," Paz snarled, "You really should have been a Vizsla."

Din's fist collided with his face.

He hadn't removed his gloves.

Copper blossomed across Paz's tongue as his head snapped to the side. He immediately retaliated, kicking Din savagely in the gut just below his beskar. Din stumbled back with a gasping wheeze, and while Paz didn't delude himself about his normal chances against him--Din won their bouts seventy percent of the time--he, unlike apparently Din himself, was aware that one of them was still injured.

Grogu scurried over to Din, who was doubled over in pain. The child fixed Paz with what was unmistakably a glare, one tiny green hand resting on the top of Din's boot.

The accusatory expression on such a young face chased the rage from Paz's throat. He sighed, shoulders slumping, fists loosening into open hands.

He really did prefer fights where they could just hit each other. Those always hurt less.

"Din," he said, "That kid is already your son. So what kind of father are you going to be?"

#good dad paz #mandalorian fanfiction #liz writes the mandalorian #paz vizsla #din djarin #grogu djarin #finally committed to paz backstory!#and the backstory is that vizslas are dicks #present and future generation excluded #'hehe look at this cute fic about paz being a good dad!'#'it's so sweet!'#'let's add in some ~trauma~'#anyway how bout that ep huh #looking forward to seeing paz safe and happy and alive in the next one #can't wait #🙃#lithdraug

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