Apple Of His Eye - Part 2

Apple of His Eye - Part 2

The morning sun had barely started to climb into the sky when you arrived at your bakery, a spring in your step as you prepared for another day of sweet treats and smiles. But the moment you turned the corner and saw the front of your shop, your heart dropped into your stomach.

The large front window of your bakery was shattered, glass littering the sidewalk and your display cases. The once inviting entrance now looked like a crime scene, and the beautiful pastries you’d worked so hard to perfect were now covered in a fine layer of glass dust. You stood there in shock, unable to move as the weight of it all came crashing down on you.

Who would do this? And why?

You sank to your knees, your hands trembling as you tried to piece together what had happened. Thoughts raced through your mind—how were you going to afford to fix this? Could you even open the bakery today? Your customers, your regulars, they all depended on you. And what about Logan? He’d come in expecting his pie, and now you couldn’t even offer him that.

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you thought about the costs of repairing the window. You had already poured everything into this little bakery, scraping by to make it a success. The idea of paying for a new window was almost too much to bear.

As you sat there, lost in your despair, you didn’t notice Logan approaching. He had been on his way to the bakery, the promise of a fresh apple pie and your bright smile drawing him like it did every morning. But when he saw the broken window, his heart clenched with a mixture of anger and concern.

“Hey,” Logan’s rough voice broke through your haze, pulling you out of your thoughts. You looked up to see him standing there, his brow furrowed, his fists clenched at his sides.

“Logan,” you whispered, your voice shaky as you tried to blink back the tears. “I don’t know what to do…”

He didn’t say anything at first, his gaze sweeping over the shattered glass, the ruined pastries, the look of sheer devastation on your face. His jaw tightened, and you could see the anger simmering just beneath the surface.

“Who did this?” he growled, his voice low and dangerous.

“I-I don’t know,” you stammered, wiping at your eyes. “I just got here and… I can’t afford to fix it. I don’t know what I’m going to do…”

Logan’s expression softened at your words, the anger giving way to something else—something protective. He knelt beside you, reaching out to gently take your hand in his. “You’re not gonna deal with this alone,” he said firmly, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a rare show of tenderness. “I’ll take care of it.”

“But Logan—”

“No buts,” he cut you off, his tone leaving no room for argument. “You go home, get some rest. I’ll handle it.”

You looked into his eyes, seeing the steely resolve there, and despite your anxiety, you felt a small glimmer of hope. Logan had always been a force of nature—unmovable, unstoppable. If anyone could help, it was him.

Reluctantly, you nodded, allowing him to help you to your feet. “Thank you,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Logan just grunted, giving your hand a final squeeze before letting it go. “Go on,” he said, his gaze flickering back to the broken window. “I’ll take care of everything.”

You gave him one last grateful look before heading home, the weight of the morning’s events still pressing down on you, but with the faintest sense of relief. Logan was here, and somehow, you knew he’d find a way to make it right.

Later that evening, long after you had gone home, Logan sat at the bar with his “brothers,” the same crew that had teased him mercilessly about his feelings for you. But tonight, there was no joking around. They could tell by the look in Logan’s eyes that this was serious.

“Someone smashed up the bakery,” Logan growled, his voice low and dangerous. “I want it fixed by tomorrow morning.”

The bikers exchanged glances, each one of them nodding in understanding. They might have been a rough bunch, but they looked out for their own—and Logan, despite his gruff exterior, had made it clear that you were important to him.

“We’ll handle it,” one of the bikers said, cracking his knuckles. “We know a guy who can get the glass replaced tonight, no questions asked.”

Logan gave a curt nod. “Good. And find out who did it,” he added, his voice dropping to an even darker tone. “I want to have a word with them.”

The men nodded again, a ripple of agreement passing through the group. Logan didn’t need to say anything more. They knew what he meant, and they weren’t about to let anyone get away with hurting someone he cared about.

As the night went on, the bikers got to work. They called in a favor with a friend who specialized in emergency repairs, and within a few hours, the shattered window was replaced, the broken glass swept up, and the bakery was restored to its former glory. It was as if nothing had happened.

Meanwhile, Logan had been tracking down the culprit, following the trail of whispers and rumors that circulated in the darker corners of the city. It didn’t take long to find out who had done it—some local thug trying to extort protection money from small businesses in the area.

Logan found him in a back alley, and what followed was quick and brutal. By the time Logan was done, the thug was left bruised and bloody on the ground, a clear message delivered: No one messed with the people Logan cared about. Ever.

The next morning, you arrived at the bakery, dreading the sight of the shattered window. But when you turned the corner, your breath caught in your throat. The window was fixed. There was no glass on the ground, no sign of the damage that had been there the day before.

You stood there in shock, trying to process what you were seeing. How could this have been fixed so quickly? And by who?

Then, you noticed something else—a familiar scent wafting through the air. You hurried inside, your heart pounding, and saw a single apple pie sitting on the counter, still warm from the oven. Next to it was a small note, written in Logan’s unmistakable scrawl:

“Everything’s taken care of. See you soon.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as you clutched the note to your chest. Logan had done this. He had made everything right, just as he had promised.

A few hours later, when Logan walked through the door, you didn’t say anything. Instead, you just smiled at him, the warmth in your gaze saying more than words ever could.

Logan gave you a small nod, his usual gruffness in place, but there was a softness in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. He took his coffee and his pie, the morning ritual restored, but as he turned to leave, you reached out and gently touched his arm.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice full of emotion.

Logan paused, looking down at you. For a moment, he seemed like he was going to say something, but then he just nodded again, a rare, almost shy smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Anytime,” he said simply, and with that, he walked out of the bakery, the door jingling behind him.

But as he rode off into the morning, the taste of your apple pie still fresh on his tongue, Logan couldn’t help but feel that maybe, just maybe, there was more to life than leather jackets and cold nights on the road. There was warmth here, in your bakery, in the way you looked at him, and he found himself wanting to protect it, no matter what.

Logan Howlett with a SO who likes to make him ugly sweaters

He has no idea who taught you to knit, but if he ever finds them he’s going to murder them in the bloodiest way possible. 

That’s not to say he doesn’t support you or your various hobbies and endeavors, he’s always the first in line to tell you how amazing you are and wear whatever you’ve knitted for him proudly. But Jesus fuck he can’t believe how ugly you make some of these sweaters. It’s like you have a gift or something (he makes a mental note to ask Charles if you’re actually a mutant and your power is making clothes that would make the blind weep) 

And you always look so excited whenever you give him a new one and he’s physically incapable of making you sad so into his rotation of clothes the new sweater goes - guaranteeing a mocking from Scott when he wears it. 

Though, as much as he hates the sweaters, no one fucks with them. He got into a fight with a usual baddie and he’d happened to be wearing one of your sweaters during it. When it got damaged, the whole battlefield went quiet and the X-men were quick to tell the enemy that they fucked up big time. No one ever hears from that particular villain ever again once Logan is through with them.

When Wade brings home a new (and alive) Logan, you begin your hobby all over again, gifting this very confused variant of your dead love sweaters. 

This Logan is also incapable of making you sad it seems, because he started to make a joke when you give him his first sweater but his face had gone panicked when you tearily asked him if he didn’t like it. 

“No no! Of course I like it! Look, Bub, I’ll even put it on right now,” and he does so with iron conviction written on his face, “It fits perfect. Look at that darling, you’ve got a talent.” 

It’s actually how this Logan falls in love with you. He can tell how much love and care you put into each sweater you make him and it does something to him. Touches a part of him that he thought he’d locked away forever. 

God above, though, he just wishes you’d use normal colors or something. 

(Charles nearly falls out of his chair laughing when this new Logan asks him if you’re a mutant and your power is making ugly sweaters) 

Scars of Time | Masterlist

Summary: For decades, Logan and you have been each other’s sanctuary in a world that never offers peace. From a fateful encounter in a dive bar to a life together at the X-Mansion, your bond has weathered countless trials. But as Logan’s once-impenetrable healing powers begin to fail and your own abilities start to drain you, the stakes grow perilously high. With your love on the line and survival in question, can you both endure the ultimate test of sacrifice and devotion? Or will the scars of time finally come to bite you in the ass? Based on this request. Ongoing.

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Fem!Mutant!Reader

Series Content Warning: Canon-typical violence, alcohol use. More warnings will be added as the story progresses. There will be individual warnings at the beginning of each chapter.

Total Word Count: 6k

Ch. 1, "Gimme Shelter" 2029

Ch. 2, "Wild Horses" 1997

↳ Sneak Peak

Ch. 3, “Piano Man” 2000

↳ Sneak Peak

Ch. 4, "Stand By Me" 2029 + 2018

Ch. 5. "House of the Rising Sun" 2029

Ch. 6, "A Whiter Shade of Pale" 2010 +2011

Ch. 7, "The Matador" 2029

Ch. 8, "Vienna" 2034

Mars speaks... If you are interested in this and would like to be tagged, let me know! Also please note that this masterlist is subject to change as the series continues to develop! The timeline for all x-men movies is FUBAR so bear with me, I'm gonna have to change some things along the way! This story is set post-dofp timeline so everyone is alive except I’m making it so that Logan remembers what happens in this timeline instead of the other one so kind of completely ignoring dofp…

Main Masterlist

the muskification of twitter except it's lex luthor instead of elon lol

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Hey, so I noticed that you were asking for requests, and I was wondering what your stance is with Dad!Din parenting a teen reader? It’s just that I have so many ideas based around the concept compared to just a regular Din/Reader, so I just wanted to ask if you’re ok with writing that type of thing, for any character really, not just Din.

Ad’ika

pairing: the mandalorian x teen reader (platonic!!!)

wc: 4.8K

warnings: mild violence, cursing, adult language/humor

a/n: at the end!!

-

Being an orphan deprived of maternal affection is a common thing to come across in this galaxy.

Most of us are left witnessing our parents demise at the hands of their owners. Yes, owners.

On the planet Kessel, adults are worked tirelessly into the ground and when they didn’t comply with the rules or too exhausted to do so— they’re killed. Simple as that.

Some are lucky enough to be born into wealth; to live the lavish lifestyle of not having to be a slave to another species.

You’re honestly not even sure why your parents decided to pro-create.

Who would want their child to experience the same thing? Probably an accident—Didn’t pull out in time.

Once you found out your parents had disappeared, you weren’t surprised. They were always disobeying orders and were caught up in some shady shit with some nasty people.

You ran and kept running because you knew those fuckers were coming for you next. Why would they want a useless kid? Who knows, but you knew your ass would be grass if you didn’t.

So you snuck onto a freighting ship and left your old life behind. Everything. All you had was your worn backpack, an old dusty picture of your family and a barely filled water canteen.

You conceal yourself behind a large package, next to a small port-hole like window as you look down to watch the planet below you grow smaller. The ship accelerates into hyper-speed and your vision of the only home you’ve known is gone.

Slowly, your eyelids grow heavy and your body goes limp from exhaustion. A quick nap won’t hurt right?

It seems as if only a few minutes went by... The ship trembles as it lands on a rocky planet, shaking you awake. By the squeaks of the foreign language the pilots are speaking, the planet is named Nevarro. You’ve picked up a few languages living on Kessel.

When the ships ramp finally settles into the ground, your eyes dart around the empty dirt field. It’s now or never.

You bolt for the exit, your legs picking up speed as the protests of the alien pilots yell after you.

After solely surviving on adrenaline, you make it to a little town as the big-headed blue skinned things chase you through a gigantic archway. You weave and bob through the crowd, gasps leave the people’s mouths as they scatter out of your path. “Sorry!” You yelp out as you shoot by.

As you glance behind you to attempt to find the pursuers in the crowd, your legs continue moving yourself forward. “Aha! Bye!” You wave your fingers tauntingly.

Just as you whip your head back around to look forward, all you see is metallic silver and then the sky.

Ouch.

You groan as you rub your head, the instant thumping tells you that you must have a concussion.

“What did I just hit?” You grumble groggily.

The crowd disperses from the area slowly, whispering and continuing with their day as if this is a normal reoccurrence. 

The pilots finally catch up to you, screaming obscenities with their blasters flailing in their hands dramatically.

“Calm down.” A modulated voice rasps out in their language.

Either you’re really hurt and your brain is bleeding or the person talking has a really weird voice.

You blink as your vision clears, the silver blob focusing into view. What the fuck is that?

Your feet scramble to push yourself away from the... robot person thing? The holes in your boots fill up with the dirt your pushing around in attempt to flee. You advance backward too far and you’re now too close to the aliens who want to kill you. Fuck!

Their oddly long slender fingers grip your forearms to pull you to your feet, “Get off of me, you assholes!” You scream as you attempt to shake them off but their grip is too tight.

“You don’t have to hurt the kid... I understand, I understand... I’ll take care of it... How much?” He hisses out in their language.

You’re finally able to stare at the towering thing who is attempting to reason your actions. The black visor turns toward you now, knowing the thing underneath must be glaring at you.

The aliens loud voices slowly die down, the grip loosens on your skin which makes you yank yourself away from them. You scoff and brush off your shoulder as if they were the ones who were dirty.

The silver man takes a step toward you, making you squeak and tense up. Instead, he slides past you and slips a few credits into their slimy hands.

That’s when you notice the oddest thing of all. A small fuzzy green child peeks out from the sack hanging on the side of the man. A rare smiles breaks through your dusty face when a tiny hand reaches out for you. Just as you reach out, the tin man interrupts

“Come on.” He speaks regularly now, his gloved hand grips your arm to pull you forward.

“Why does everyone manhandle me as if I’m some sort of child?” You scoff obnoxiously and roll your eyes.

“You are.” He says simply which makes your upper lip curl in annoyance.

“I’m sixteen.” You bite back, “A teen-nay-ger.” You sound out the word as if the man was too stupid to understand.

He doesn’t respond.

“Is that Beskar you’re wearing?” You mumble into the awkward silence, staring at your dirty reflection in the surface.

“Yes.”

You grumble under your breath as you look over him once more. The built in weaponry, the shining armor, the jet pack...

Then the ship. It all clicks into place.

The tin-man presses something on his forearm, causing a ramp to lower itself from the side and settle into the ground with a swoosh. He guides you up the surface, his grip still tight on your upper arm.

“You’re a Mandalorian!” You gasp in awe.

“That took you long enough to figure out.” He almost let’s out a chuckle.

“And now you’re kidnapping me? Great.” You cross your arms as you look at the inside of the ship. Messy, yet somehow organized.

“Not kidnapping— Saving. You could’ve gotten yourself killed back there. I saved your ass.” He busies himself with the little toddler, tucking the sleeping thing into a compartment then closing it. His feet slide over to a work station, busying himself with unloading his weapons.

“What is that thing?” You swiftly change the subject.

“Not sure. All I know is that I have to protect him and keep him safe.”

You hum sarcastically in response with a little eye roll. It’s almost as if he has eyes on the back of his head.

His motions still as his helmet turns to the side to stare at you. “Stop that.” He grumbles about your attitude then continues with what he’s doing. “Whatever.” You huff.

Since the Mandalorian is busy, you take the free time to look around. Infinite weaponry and ammo, then you click a button and revolving carbonite blocks appear from inside the wall. “Frozen people in walls? Cool.” You chuckle as you walk around more.

You pick up some knick-knacks, examining the other-worldly objects. “Stop touching everything.”

He mumbles incoherently under his breath, which sounds like static coming from his helmet as he moves to climb up the ladder. Most likely to the cockpit.

So you follow, of course. The windows expand across the front, the engines growl and whirl as he clicks bright buttons on the dash.

“Where are you taking me?” Your voice croaks out as the ship rises into the air.

“Back to Kessel. I’m not getting chased by whoever you’re fleeing from. You need to deal with your own problems.”

The statement sends a chill through your whole body, “But— no. You can’t. I’ll die. I’ll be killed. Come on, just like you said, I’m just a kid...” Your hands grip the back of his seat to steady yourself as the ship rises into the air.

“Sit down.” The ship levels so you could safely move to a seat.

You can feel the emotions overcome you, unable to hold them back as you buckle yourself in.

“I’d rather be thrown out of an airlock then go back there.” You mumble to yourself.

A soft raspy laugh leaves the helmet.

“Really? An airlock? Who is chasing you anyway?”

You sniffle as you wipe your tears and runny nose on your sleeve.

“I don’t know. My parents... They were caught up in some sketchy shit, they were killed... or they went missing, I’m not even sure, but I was left alone to fend for myself. I escaped before... whoever got them came looking for me.”

The Mandalorian lets out a pitiful sigh, “Look... I don’t have any room for you. No bed, no clothes. I don’t know what you want me to do.”

He clicks a few buttons to let the ship hover between outer space and the planets atmosphere below. He turns his seat to stare at the shaking, fearful teenager.

He notices how your arms are wrapped around yourself in a way of comfort, your inflamed nose, watery eyes, and your quivering bottom lip. You remind him of himself as a child.

Just by the image in front of him, he mentally battled himself to made a vow to protect you. Just how the Mandalorians did for him.

He’s unsure how to comfort in this situation, so he swivels back around to steer the ship into space. He clicks a few buttons which causes everything to shake as it shoots forward into blue swirls.

“Wow.” He hears you whisper softly behind him. He couldn’t help but crack a smile under his armor.

Silence radiates through the bridge of the ship. It’s awkward and tense.

You think you’re going to be dropped off on Kessel to encounter the impending doom of your death, to be worked until exhaustion catches up to you.

The Mandalorian finally breaks the silence as he stands tall from his seat and down the ladder. You squirm uncomfortably in your own as your eyes dart around the small area.

Once he returns, he’s followed with coos and babbles from the big-eared fuzzy adorable baby. He slides past your seat into his.

“Do you want to hold him?” He breaks the tension as his chair rotates around so he’s facing you again.

A subtle ray of happiness bursts through your chest as you nod and reach for him. The baby also reaches for you as the Mandalorian hands him over to you.

He’s much heavier than you expected. His little green hand comes to rest on your cheek, making your bottom lip begin to quiver even more. It makes an odd noise of approval then settles into your lap.

He makes grabby hands for something. You watch as the Mandalorian unscrews a metal ball from a lever to hand to the kid.

It suddenly flies from his gloved hand into his green ones like an invisible force brought it to him.

The energy in the room buzzes with excitement and goosebumps tickle the surface of your skin. “What was that?” You mumble in astonishment. Your lips part in surprise as you look between the magic child in your lap and the tin-man.

“Not sure. I just know that he’s special. He does that sometimes.” He says nonchalantly through his mask, his shoulders rise and drop as if it was nothing.

The pitch black visor eyes you for a few more moments before turning to direct his attention to the dashboard.

The kid allows you to take the ball and gently toss it into the air so he could let it float down slowly to him. You watch in awe, eyes twinkling with amazement.

You’ve heard of such powers, but you didn’t know if it was just a folktale.

After playing with the metal ball and his powers, he relaxes against your body with the ball secured between his tiny fists.

“I’m not bringing you back to Kessel.” His modulated voice breaks through the silence. His words make your chest swell with hope.

“It’s going to be rough... Staying here. Only for the time being, until I can find you somewhere safer and more comfortable to live.”

He doesn’t turn to look at you as he talks, but it doesn’t even matter. At least you’ll have protection. “Thank you.” You muster up a croak and he responds with a curt nod.

The ship drops out of hyperspace, a spherical giant in view as he closes in on the atmosphere of the new planet.

He lands the ship smoothly in a loading bay, droids clamber around the ship below to work on it. You watch as an older lady with very curly hair waltz into view.

“Stay here.” He orders as he stands to his feet and disappears down the ladder. The child squeaks as he watches his caretaker leave him with you.

You almost wince as you prepare for a tantrum, but it never comes. The baby settles into your lap once again with a tiny yawn.

You couldn’t help but grow suspicious as you stand with the child on your hip to look out the front window. You instantly spot the shiny armor and the woman talking to him. Her arms are obviously expressing her feelings as they flail around her.

Then her eyes dart from him to you, she squints. Then the Mandalorian takes notice of her divided attention. He whips around and stares through his black visor. Even if you can’t see his face, you read his body language that he’s a bit upset.

I guess he didn’t want you to be seen yet.

The lady turns back to him and it seems as if she’s scolding him. His shoulders drop a bit then his hand raises to beckon you to come down.

Excitement rises in your chest as you slowly, and carefully, make your way down the ladder with the child. When your feet hit the metal flooring, you hear footsteps ascend the ramp.

With a gulp and a rise in your anxiety, you turn around to look at him and the lady staring at you. The child makes a noise of happiness when he spots her and she smiles in awe when he reaches for her.

As the lady walks up to grab the child, she smiles at you. “Hi, I’m Peli.” She gently scoops the child from your arms. “He told me a lot about you.” She points her thumb behind her to motion toward him.

“Hi.” You mumble, a bit guarded by her being a stranger. 

Peli moves to walk down the ramp, your eyes go wide as you point at her. “She’s taking him!” You yelp as you go to run after her but his arm juts out to scoop you up.

Your legs kick as you’re lifted from the ground, a grunt falls from your lips. “Let go of me!”

“Stop it. I trust her. You should too. She watches him for me when I’m busy doing other things.” His grip loosens from your waist once your fierce demeanor sizzles out.

You wriggle away from him, annoyance evident on your features as you glare at him. Although, you’re secretly glad he caught you before you got to her.

“Come on. We’re going into town.”

“We?” You squeak with wild eyes as you watch him tread down the ramp.

Not wanting to stay in the ship by yourself, you follow him. Your eyes scan the area for anybody else, but it’s only you, him, the lady, her droids, and the kid.

He leads you up some stairs into a bustling market above the ship stations, “So, what’s your name? Or nickname? What should I call you?” You ramble as you walk side by side with him.

You can’t help but take notice to everyone scurrying out of his path.

“My name...” He mumbles hesitatingly, “My name is Din. You can also call me Mando, I guess. Some people call me that.”

“Din... Mando...” You mumble softly, letting the words roll off your tongue experimentally. “Cool, I like it.”

“What should I call you?” He questions softly, almost as if he isn’t sure you’ll want to tell him, but you do. You reveal your name to him, as well as some nicknames. Even the not-so-nice ones your mother called you when you were in trouble.

Suddenly, the sweetest, most delicious smell wafts by and you can’t help but suddenly search for where it’s coming from. Your stomach lets out an animalistic growl, even making the Mandalorian comment on it.

“Hungry?” He puts a hand between your shoulders to aid in weaving you through the crowd to the food stand. The smell gets stronger once you spot it.

“What do you want? Get anything.” His own helmet moves as he looks over the menu.

“Anything..?” You breathe out in surprise as you look up at him. You’ve never been offered that, not even by your own parents. Din looks down at you and nods.

“I want... That, and that. Also that.” You point to a spiraled fried blue spotted vegetable on a skewer, as well as a sugar coated donut and a fizzy drink.

He hands over a few credits as the vendor slides the food over to you. You mumble a grateful thanks and instantly dig in.

Mando leads you down the alleyway in the market as you eat, you can feel his eyes on you since you’re not really watching where you’re going. Too occupied.

He stops at another stand, this one has clothing. You swallow your food thickly, “Are you seriously buying me clothes too?” You almost cough out from a piece of food getting stuck in your throat.

“I couldn’t help but notice you’re a bit dirty. Don’t know if you knew that.”

His words make your cheeks heat up, sending a death glare toward him.

“Obviously.” You huff sassily as you eye the clothing hanging up behind the elderly lady.

You pick out two pairs of pants and a few shirts, “Don’t worry, pick out some more, I’ll be right back.” His hand rests on your shoulder for a moment, his other hand plops a bag into your bag on your back. “That should cover everything.” Then he just disappears away into the crowd. 

You didn’t even get time to respond, you’re left alone, your mouth open with food sitting inside. You realize the old lady grimaces at the view of the chewed food so you swallow it and continue shopping. 

Once you have armfuls of outfits picked out, some new boots, and your food wrappers are strewn around various places of the shop, it’s time to cash out. 

After laying your pile of clothing on the counter, you fish for money in your pack, listening for the jingle of credits. The old lady keeps an eye on you suspiciously, but of course you’re oblivious to her stares. 

She packs everything into two canvas totes and croaks out the price. Your eyes bulge wildly as you search for the correct amount to hand to her. The Mandalorian had given you way more than enough. 

Why is he trusting you with this much money?

After you slide over the amount, you quickly seal up his bag and slide it back into your pack. You shoot her a smile when she hands you the bags, but she doesn’t reciprocate the same positive energy. 

Swiftly, you snatch the bags to hang them on your arms and gather the garbage you left around to throw in the nearby trash can. Where could he have gone? 

Your eyes search the crowd for his infamous beskar armor, hoping you catch the gleam of it in the sea of people. 

You start to grow nervous. He wouldn’t desert you on this planet right? He said he was going to find you a safe place to live. He got you food, clothing, and gave you money...

Your heart drops. He did. He’s left you here to fend for yourself. Suddenly your brain goes into flight or fight mode and cranks with ideas to survive the night. 

The credits he gave you could easily get you comfortable lodging, you could shower and then tomorrow morning you could hop on someone’s ship. 

Tears prick at your eyes. You’re going to miss that fuzzy baby. Anger whirls through your body when you think of the back-stabbing Mandalorian. 

Then you stop in your tracks, sniffing loudly when you realize you’ve been walking away from the shop. You don’t even know where you are right now. 

A few people curse at you to move out of the way of traffic. A hand grips the pack hanging on your back, causing your small frame to stumble backward. You yelp fearfully when you look behind you, seeing a cloaked man attempting to rob you.

No, no, no, no. 

You drop your shopping bags to defend yourself without the heavy clothing weighing you down. You throw a mean right hook, hitting the person right on the jaw. The thump into your knuckles instantly begins, but you choke down the grimace on your face.

“Don’t make this hard on you, kid. Just give me the damn money.” Their hand extends in attempt to grab you again but you swiftly dodge out of their reach. 

Your eyes frantically search the people around who seem to not care you’re getting robbed. “Just leave me alone. You don’t want to do this. My dad is a Mandalorian, he’ll rip you to fucking shreds.” You spit out furiously. 

Dad? Why did you just say he was your father?

The person under the cloak chuckles, showing off their rotten teeth, a switchblade opens at their side. “A Mandalorian? Ha. Well, where is he right now?” 

“He’s right here.” The familiar modulated voice sounds from above you, a smile instantly breaks across your face as Din floats down, his jet-pack whirring with life.

A wire shoots out of his arm, wrapping itself around the thug’s ankles. The jet-pack accelerates upward, bringing the man with him. Now hanging upside down in the air. 

He lets out the most horrified scream as they shoot upward into the sky, the only thing you can make out is the fire flowing from Mando’s back. 

“Get him! Yes!” You cheer as the wire swings him in circles and finally retracts, making the man fly out of your vision in the air. Hopefully to his death. 

Mando slowly makes his way back down to the ground, landing away from you. He picks up your totes full of clothing off the sandy ground, his black visor stares a hole through you as he marches toward you. 

You couldn’t help but feel bad for him hearing you call him dad, you don’t want to put that responsibility on him. Then anger beats through your veins, your hands instinctively push against his chest but he doesn’t budge. 

“You left me! Why did you leave me?! I thought you fucking dropped me off and ditched me! You gave me food, clothing and money. What else was I supposed to think?!” You screeched as you ball your fists at your sides. Realizing soon enough that your outburst was not needed, nor is his silence.

“I’m sorry. Thank you for saving me, but why?” You mumble, your eyes drop to look down at your shoes as you attempt to calm the fire burning in your chest.

“I didn’t think you’d roam around and get into trouble. I went back to the shop and the old lady was gone, the shop was closed. I had a feeling something was wrong.” He took another step toward you, “So I went into the skies and then I found you.” 

The Mandalorian knew deep down that he had some kind of maternal instinct take over him to protect you once he saw you crying in his ship, but when you called him dad he suddenly got emotional under his layers of armor. “I’m... sorry. I won’t let you out of my sight. Ever again.”

His arm rises to rest on your shoulder comfortingly as he watches you break down slowly in front of him again. 

It started with your bottom lip quivering, your arms instinctively wrap around your body in attempt to console yourself. Your shoulders cave forward as a sob wracks through your body. 

Din hesitantly pulls you into his metal chest, unsure on how to comfort but he guesses a hug could help. 

And it did. 

His secure arms that are wrapped around you makes you feel safe, like the tin-man really is the father figure you never truly had. As your tears steam up his beskar chest plate, his hands gently pat your back reassuringly. 

The universe finally felt as if it was on your side. As if everything has clicked perfectly into place and this is where you’re meant to be.

“Let’s go back to the ship, ad’ika. I bet the little one will be excited to see us. You can get cleaned up too.” A soft relieved sigh falls from your lips when he mentions the green baby and a shower. 

Yep, if this is what the universe has planned for you— You won’t complain. 

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a/n: um i don’t usually write stuff like this, but i had so much fun with this one. y'all know i love romance and angst, but this is so good. i’m proud of myself. hope u liked it!!!

I love that everyone has agreed that Logan refuses to call her blind al but will call her Althea instead like we all just agreed he is a gentleman