STAR WARS IMAGINES

din djarin | a man of his profession

2.8k+ words; not requested, just sad and wishing i was married to din

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Every part of him screamed that it was wrong. It was wrong to continue a life within a Mandalorian armor when he broke his own Creed. He had taken his helmet off within a year of knowing you. He had shown his face to a living being. You assured him that it did not matter, that the marriage between the two of you had sealed the clan that you had formed, and he believed you. But still, it was wrong and he knew it.

It was wrong to continue this life of danger with you by his side. Not that you weren't capable of taking care of yourself, because you were. But because you were pregnant with his child, that made you more fragile and it made him more of a mess.

With the baby inside of you and the Child strapped to your back, you moved quickly alongside him, blaster in your hand, against your hip. The two of you moved silently over the crunchy sand, keeping your heads down so enemies couldn't see you. Moving from city to city, from planet to planet, system to system... it wasn't safe. He knew it. You were terrified with every passing week. You were showing now. His baby wasn't safe.

"We'll get more fuel and food," he told you, keeping his hand on your back as he moved you quickly through the market. "Then we'll leave this moon and go straight to Tatooine. Peli will give us a place to stay for a while."

You nodded. "How long will we be here?"

"Not too long," he promised you, but every minute here was dangerous. He glanced around and gently guided you to stand in the shade, under an awning beside an abandoned cart. "You stay here while I buy some supplies. Keep the blaster hidden under your robes, but keep your hand on it."

"I will."

"I'll be right back." Din walked down the dusty, sandy road, taking in the pathetic sights of the sellers. Most were elderly, bent over and sickly, glaring at him with unforgiving orange eyes. He stood out here. The light from the sun shone on his beskar. He was like a shining light, drawing in unwanted insects. His enemies would come in swarms.

He stopped in front of a seller that showcased a plethora of food. All sold in packs tied in string, he offered great prices for a large amount of food. Din handed over the credits and picked out something hard and crunchy for the kid and a couple of healthy meals for you. As he browsed, he did so quickly, continuously glancing over his shoulder to make sure that you were still against the wall of the building where he had left you. His heart was beating so harshly. He needed to be next to you.

"You alright, son?" the seller in front of him asked. He had a permanent scowl on his wrinkled face.

Din looked at him. "Yeah." He tucked the food under his arm and glanced back over to check on you.

"A man of your profession shouldn't have a family," the seller said. "It ain't right."

At first, Din wanted to argue. For whatever reason, an argument threatened to spill right off of his tongue. No, I can protect them. But he stopped himself, because it wasn't really the old man that he wanted to argue about it with, but himself. For weeks now Din had been lying awake at night, wondering if the beskar he wore was any good at all.

It lured people in. Enemies searched for it. Thieves longed for it. He could never blend in, no matter where he went. You could blend in if it wasn't for him. Wrap the child in a blanket, hide his ears... no one would have any idea that you were raising wanted bounty. It was Din's fault you were always on the move, always a target, always getting hunted. It was all on him.

But without his beskar, he couldn't protect you. He relied on it to keep him alive when he got hit. He relied on it to be your shield when someone fired at you or the baby. He relied on it to be his strength and to scare his enemies away. If it wasn't on his body, any shot could be his last one. He couldn't risk going down without a chance to get back up again. So many times he could remember hitting the floor, the shot fired at him a bruise against his skin, hearing your desperate yell, pleading with him to get up. If it wasn't for the beskar, he wouldn't have gotten up again to protect you.