#mando!reader

"It could use a tune-up and my usual mechanics are taking a break, how many credits would that be?"

Djarin offered a sardonic smile.

"Well, that's something you can't know until you check it out in depth, sweetheart, but I promise I'll give you a good price" (That was accompanied by a slight wink in a crude attempt to get attention).

The Mandalorian just nodded softly and left without another word, leaving the man blushing intensely. That wasn't even close to what he regretted the most. As Din delved into the intricate repairs of the ancient ship, which could well be described as a relic, he reflected on the other, much more interesting things he could be doing, but he was still a man of his word and he wasn't going to give up. Despite the two brief interactions, he couldn't help but feel drawn to the stoic yet captivating presence of the Mandalorian warrior. Their conversations were meaningful, with an unspoken understanding floating in the air between them, especially when the woman simply rolled up her sleeves and began to help him.

"Where did you learn?" (The question surprised the dark-haired man, but he wasn't going to waste the opportunity).

"Well, when I was young I spent a lot of time alone because my uncle wasn't a man of many words and even less with alcohol, so one day I went to the city and signed up as an apprentice, that's how I earned a living and killed time".

The woman turned her visor to the ground thoughtfully.

"Is that where you got the necklace from?"

He was about to ask when she looked where the jacket was leaning, it was a kind of tool box where he kept an amulet from the worst day of his life. A mythosaur.

"No... I don't like to talk about it but your people helped me in a time of need and I preferred to keep it".

"I could say the same".

The man reached for a dirty rag to remove the oil dirt from his hands. A sigh of understanding left his lips.

"Is it true what they say, you always wear that helmet?" (He pointed to his own face inquisitively).

"This is the way".

The days passed in apparent tranquility, the young woman had become a little more vocal and was proud of having gotten a kind of laugh out of her once. However, before Din could finish his work, chaos erupted in the spaceport as a group of bounty hunters descended upon the girl, seeking to claim the bounty on her head. Instinctively, Din sprang into action, using the few skills his uncle, a man better with his fists than with words, had instilled in him, upbringing to support Mando and fend off attackers.

He and his peculiar client barricaded themselves behind a set of scrap metal. The woman had a sharp aim that made him think with pity of their targets if they weren't in this situation.

In the heat of battle, Din entered the ship for added safety while his partner dealt with several stray undesirables mercilessly. He inadvertently discovered a secret Mando had been hiding: a small, green creature emerged from a cubbyhole of sorts, looking frightened and immediately turning its face away when the mechanic approached.

"Hey... little one, it's okay" (the man extended a finger for the boy to hold, which helped, as he was able to pick up the baby and find a better place to hide).

So that was the reason the woman was so scrupulous about emptying the warehouse before starting work and always left for a while, maybe she knew someone nearby who helped her with the child.

Once she understood that the man was inside, the child's guardian (mother?) entered the ship abruptly and prepared to take off. Apparently the rescued pupil was named Grogu, he had a connection to the Force like nothing Din had ever seen before, although the Mandalorian never heard of it. This revelation struck a chord within Din, awakening emotions and memories long buried in him, when he lost his parents as a tender infant.

A few hours later Grogu entertained himself by floating Din's necklace through the air, the only thing he could rescue when the attackers were too many and left without further delay.

"He is amazing" (Djarin meant it, he understood that any self-respecting person would want to keep him safe).

"He is" (The woman used a surprisingly soft tone) "You can't go back to that place, now they will look for you too".

With no choice but to leave the safety of Mos Eisley behind, Din made the fateful decision to accompany Mando and Grogu on their journey, his heart torn between the prudence of duty and the new connection he felt towards them.

“I suppose there is no other remedy, at least for now. Would a mechanic suit you?”

The hunter said nothing but the playful clicking of fingers on the control panel expressed all he needed to know.

Weeks turned into months. As they traversed the galaxy together, facing danger and adventure at every turn, Din and Mando found themselves growing closer, their bond forged through trials and challenges that tested their resolve. In the quiet moments beneath the starry sky, Din found solace in the reserved woman’s unwavering strength and determination, while she discovered a depth of compassion and loyalty in Din’s open character that touched her heart. Casual touches turned to frantic kisses in the darkness of the ship’s belly.

Amidst the chaos of their unpredictable lives, love blossomed between the stoic Mandalorian bounty hunter and the intrepid mechanic, tying their destinies together in a story written in the stars. And as they sailed across the vast expanse of the galaxy side by side, Djarin and Mando knew that in each other they had found something worth fighting for: a love that transcended the boundaries of space and time, binding them together in a bond that was as unbreakable as beskar steel.

  “I have no doubts,” you smiled. “However, I still have that meeting to attend.”  Maul’s face fell. The typical expression of distaste. His lips curled in an inaudible snarl as he tore his eyes away from you.  “I’ll be back,” you cooed, walking over to him, “you know that.” Bringing his face into your hands, you placed a kiss to his pouting lips. “Try not to tear down the palace while I’m gone?”  The colors flickered in his eyes. The arms that were once crossed now had hands latching onto your hips.  You sighed. This was not going to be easy; leaving or staying. The way his eyes drank you in and plead for you all at once.  The grip he had on your hips tightened immensely, pinching your skin beneath the fabric.  Pressing yourself forward, his enticing scent lured you closer. “Maul…”  The corners of Maul’s lips curved upward. Leaning his head forward, your hands dropped down to his neck. His lips danced along your jawline toward your ear. “Stay,” he breathed, adding a growl as he began to nibble at your neck.

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Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this and your day  :)

“Woah, woah, woah!” Luke cried breathlessly, rushing between them and tugging them apart.

Han shook off his dizziness and still tried to push Luke away. “Kid, it’s fine--”

“It’s not fine! They just attacked you!” he screeched.

Luke went silent when Han and the Mando shared an amused look. Clearly, he was missing something here.

“You’ve never met a Mandalorian, have you?” asked the Mando, snorting.

He crossed his arms. “I’ve met plenty of Mandalorians!”

“You can’t count Boba Fett, he was trying to kill you,” Han corrected immediately. 

He seemed to abandon the conversation, crossing the room, but it soon became clear he was actually pulling drinks out of his hidden stash. (“Hidden stash.” The only one who didn’t know it was there was R2 and that was because he had a habit of throwing bottles at people’s faces.) Meanwhile, his Mandalorian friend stepped away from Luke to lean against the wall.

“Do you wanna explain to the kid what you just did?” Han asked them, pouring three glasses, which did not go unnoticed by Luke.

The Mando snorted. “He’s your tag-along.”

“Hey now!” he protested almost mockingly before lifting his left wrist and tapping it. The dull thud that echoed from the piece of armor he wore under his sleeve almost abruptly reminded Luke of its existence. “That means he’s our tag-along.”

Luke gawked, realisation painting his features. He’d never understood the vambrace on Han’s left arm, much less why the man kept it covered at all times, but now it made complete sense. The piece was the same colour as the mysterious Mandalorian’s armour, now that he thought about it. The Mando had given it to him.

“I’m no expert in Mando, but--”

“Clearly,” Han snorted mid-sip of his own drink, but Luke ignored him.

“--isn’t that...kind of a big deal?”

The Mando gave a heaving laugh just as Han approached and handed them a full glass. An untouched one was shoved into Luke’s hands, but he barely noticed it.

“We’re married,” the Mando said almost nonchalantly.

Han lifted a protesting finger. “We are not married.”

“We’re not married,” they corrected. A pause. “Yet.”

Luke took a massive gulp of his drink, wincing at the burn and the snickers he got from both of them.

Just then, the Mando slipped their helmet off, revealing a head of mess (h/c) hair and sharp eyes that twinkled with mischief. They immediately moved to kiss Han’s cheek, earning a roll of his eyes and a minute shove.

“Atin’ika,” they muttered. “Who’s your new friend?”

“Luke Skywalker, (Y/N) (L/N),” Han introduced. “Sorry about Luke-- Kay-esh mirsh solus.”

(Y/N) glared at him. “It’s Kaysh.” He waved them off and they looked back at the poor former farmboy, who had the expression of a bantha in headlights. “Nice to meet you.”

“You too, I think,” he said hesitantly. He gestured between the two of them. “So, you two--?”

“Unfortunately,” (Y/N) drawled. Then, they grinned. “But it’s a pretty open thing, if you’re interested.”

Luke choked on his drink.

“Leave him alone, you menace,” Han scoffed, shoving his partner. “Go get that armor off, it’s a pain in the ass.”

(Y/N) rolled their eyes, but started walking off anyway. “I’m going, I’m going-- but don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it!”

Luke was just recovering from his coughing fit when Han sighed. “That’s what I get for bringing a twink on board. Ignore them.”

“How?” The ‘twink’ muttered.

A moment later, watching Han down his entire glass, Luke frowned.

“You knew you said the word wrong earlier, didn’t you?”

His friend grinned devilishly. “It annoys them-- can’t help it. They’re hilarious when they’re mad, you’ll see.”

“So you know Mando’a?” he asked, tilting his head.

“Eh.” He made a so-so motion. “Pick up a word here and there.”

Luke frowned when the Force rang false. “Hang on! You have a Mando’a dictionary in the ship's files-- I’ve seen it! You’re a filthy liar!”

Han hushed him immediately, glancing toward where (Y/N) disappeared. “That doesn’t exist, hear me?”

“Why wouldn’t you--?” he stopped. “Wait, that last page you viewed--”

Luke had seen the records. He went snooping around in Han’s stuff more than he’d like to admit, but he was sure the man knew about it. The last open section in the Mando’a dictionary had been under Resh: Riduurok. It was a love bond, a marriage agreement.

“Shhhhhhhhh,” Han hissed pointedly. “I’ll kill you.”

He couldn’t help but grin. “That’s so sweet. Han, why didn’t you tell anybody about them, huh?”

“I have a reputation and (Y/N) has a reputation,” he huffed. “Now shut up and finish that.”

Down the hall, (Y/N) grinned. Little did Han know, his beskar’gam was almost finished. Most of the pieces were done, except for the helmet, which had an unfinished design. It seemed ridiculous, forging him a set when he’d probably hardly ever wear it, but it meant a lot to (Y/N) that he would simply have it.

(Y/N) loved that mir’sheb.

River’s Tags: @hahaboop & @mystoragehatesme

aight so fight fight fight is part of the modern!au and it’s basically what it says on the tin - boba gets into a fight and there’s some tending to wounds at the end. there’s a lot of tension and pining and maybe angst because they argue a LOT these idiots

“What are you doing?” you hiss, not really caring for an answer but demanding one anyway. But Boba’s not even looking at you, glowering at the other man menacingly even with the helmet between. You bring your other palm to his chest and try to push him back, pull him to the side, anything to get him to leave this stupidity.

He doesn’t so much as sway on his feet, remaining firm and tall and angry as he shrugs your hold off. His hand — non-dominant, you realise later, the one you’re not standing next to — lashes out to strike the man viciously on the side of his head.

You see a flash of the other man flinching to the side, knocking […] to the floor tiles, his hand swinging up blindly before—

Thud.

A burst of pain shatters through your right temple.

grocery thing, also part of the modern!au, was meant to be an interlude of sorts. reader and boba aren’t exactly on speaking terms at this point even though they both want to be. yeah i will write the reader to be a stubborn fool it’s called projection babes 💋✨

You whirl round, just for the words to shrivel up and die in your mouth. There’s a pathetic choke that, you realise later, bubbles up from your throat.

Because looming over you is a sight you haven’t seen in weeks. You see your face distorted in a smooth glass T-visor, set in a weathered, god-awful green helmet.

“Boba.”

You say his name so dumbly that you cringe immediately after. How many times have you rehearsed what you’d say to him? Fancy seeing you here. Look what the cat dragged in. You moron.

I missed you.

He takes a step back, and it is only then that you realise how close he was before. Completely in your space as you leaned against the racks. A while ago, that would’ve bothered you. Hell — a while ago, you would have noticed. Why didn’t you now?

You give him a once-over, as if you’re checking for the same scrapes and bruises and split lip all over again. As if weeks haven’t gone by without so much as a breath in the other’s direction. He looks… the same. You can’t say good, because Boba’s never been one to care about appearances beyond ‘presentable’ and it shows in his day-to-day. The same olive-green bomber jacket. The same pair of braids, fastened to his shoulder. The same well-worn jeans. And of course, the same goddamn helmet — complete with its dent and intimidating glare.

He looks normal. Safe, healthy. Which is more than you can ask for, really. Since it’s none of your business.

While you fumble for words, scrambling for something, anything to say to him, Boba hold out a fist. Measured and firm, like all his movements are.

From his hand dangles the bag of limes.

and djarin’s arrive is from a paz x mando!reader thing i’ve been thinking about! au where the covert is FINE thank u very much. also big bratty sibling energy between the reader and din dfdkfdfhdf catch me writing better platonic relationships than romantic huh

You crack a smile at the barb. Din, resolutely not facing the taller man, grunts. You suspect he’ll be doing a lot of that while he’s here. From behind, Paz uses both gloved hands to press down on both your helmets with just enough force to be annoying. Such a child when he wants to be. Both of them, really.

A half-smile on your face, you swat at the pesky Infantry soldier’s arm, and the pressure from above vanishes before you feel a distinct plink on the back of your helm.

Flicking? Really?

Before you can turn around to give Paz a piece of your mind, you hear his voice. Right in your ear, had it been uncovered.

“Make sure he doesn’t blow anything up, baar’ur’ika,” he mutters, barely loud enough for your sensors to pick up yet resonating through your beskar, through your mind. You can hear the smirk in his voice. Maker, he didn’t even touch you — yet the remnants of that closeness lie heavy in your chest. By the time you recover from the low, rolling growl in your ear, Paz is gone.

Leaving you with Din. Who is suspiciously quiet.

“W-what?” 

“Hm?” Din’s helmet turns back to you, and it’s only then that you realise he wasn’t staring at all. Either you’re self-absorbed, or Din is oblivious. 

Must be the latter.

that’s all for now folks