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the-blind-assassin-12 · 4 months ago

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Skira - Part Two

Author's Note: This is part two of my submission for @beefrobeefcal's Glandalorian Writing Challenge. Was it supposed to be finished in November? Yes, yes it was. Is it now December 11th? Also yes. But here we are. This part has two of the three required prompts - the line "I saw what you did. This is not the way." as well as a reference to Dieter Bravo - and it was a lot of fun for me to figure out how to include both. There is still a lot more to come in this story, so I hope no one minds that it's fully trailing into the holiday season. Thank you to everyone who read the first part, I truly hope you enjoy this next bit!

Part One

Word Count: 6,625

Warnings: canon-typical violence and underworld unpleasantness

Summary: Skira is Mando'a for revenge - with a personal edge.

RTK111

Hyperspace travel had never seemed so slow.

The N1’s landing gear had barely skimmed the top layer of grime covering the unnamed planet’s surface when Din released the airlock, the cockpit dome swinging open with a sharp hiss. Finally. He hoisted himself up and out of the ship in one swift movement, striding straight for the dilapidated buildings and abandoned warehouses of the former shipping port. Those structures now served as black market trade hubs, crime dens and cantinas, the whole place crawling with bail jumpers and gangsters.

And you were being held hostage by one of the most notorious among them.

Not for long.

Pressing a button on his vambrace, Din sealed the cockpit without looking back. As he made his way through the graffitied maze, following the same path he took the last time he was there, he replayed the conversation he had with Bo-Katan moments after dropping out of hyperspace.

“The Shale twins told me everything,” she stated, forgoing a greeting in the interest of saving what little time they’d have to speak. “I’ll look after the kid for you, you have my word on that.”

“Thank you.” Though Din had no doubt that she would agree to help when he asked Leera to pass the message, a wave of relief passed through him with the confirmation that Grogu would be taken care of until he returned. “I shouldn’t be long,” he added, beginning the navigational sequence to guide him through the meteor field that surrounded his destination. “I’ve had dealings with the Karesh gang before.” He glanced down at his wrist, where a full round of whistling birds were loaded in the launching device. “They were brief.”

“You’ve dealt with Gor Karesh in the past,” Bo countered, vitriol filling her voice as she continued. “I’ve heard that his brother Kol is twice as smart and far more ruthless. He’s obsessed with acquiring beskar to sell on the black market.” She paused, letting out a sigh. “Look, I know you’re going to do whatever you have to do to get your riduur back, and I support that. I just wanted you to know what you’re up against.” She narrowed her eyes then, the sharpness in them piercing through the grainy holo image. “Make him pay for this.”

Din moved his head in a single nod. Oh, I plan to. “This is the Way.”

Music pulsed from doorways as patrons stumbled in and out of them, but they all gave a wide berth to the Mandalorian stalking assertively down the street. Chances were high that several of them had outstanding bounties on their heads. As such, his presence on the underworld planet spooked them into less rowdy behavior. I’m not here for them, but they don’t need to know that. No one said a word to him until he was right outside the warehouse that the Karesh brothers had turned into a cantina, when a pair of Gamorrean guards blocked the door with their axes.

A Nikto acting as a bouncer held up his hand and gestured to the guards to lower their weapons, a grin spreading over his horned face as he realized who had just arrived. “Easy, boys,” he said, eyes traveling over Din’s armor and landing on the Mudhorn signet. “This here is the boss’ special guest. Go on and let ‘im pass.”

The Gamoreans grunted but acquiesced, stepping back and allowing Din to enter the building. Good choice. They wouldn’t have stopped him if it came to it, but avoiding conflict until it was necessary was the best way to get you out of there safely. And that’s all that matters.

“I’m here to see Kol Karesh,” he stated to the bouncer. “You can either take me to him, or you can get out of my way.”

Chuckling, the Nikto reached out to drop his hand on Din’s shoulder. “Relax, Mandalorian.” He did the opposite, shucking away the contact with a quick shrug. That only drew another laugh from the bouncer. “The boss has been looking forward to meeting you. No need for- ”

“Then take me to him,” Din growled, cutting him off and taking a menacing step forward that forced the smaller being to take an involuntary one back. “Wouldn’t want to keep him waiting any longer.” He tilted his chin down, one hand resting on his holstered blaster. “And you don’t want to test my patience, either.”

Letting out a huff of air that sounded more nervous than he likely meant to let on, the bouncer nodded. “Noted.” He swallowed, then cleared his throat. “Right then. Follow me.” With that, he turned, Din following him as he made his way through the crowded cantina.

Weaving through the throngs of patrons gathered around the bar, the two headed toward the back of the open space, where a fighting arena stood. In it, a Devoronian and Twi’lek were locked in an armed battle, both warriors bearing cuts, burns and bruises, but neither showing signs of surrender. Dozens of spectators were gathered around, cheering encouragement and yelling swears alike, and it was clear that many - if not all - of them had placed bets on the outcome of the fight.

As he walked deeper inside, Din scanned the room for any sign of you - or of where you might be being held - but nothing immediately stood out to him. I’ll find her. He followed the bouncer beyond the arena and through a back door, the crowd noise dampening as it shut behind them. And when I do, they’ll wish they’d never touched her.

“Boss is in his office.”

The Nikto’s voice broke through thoughts of what he would do to the man who had taken you captive, Din’s concealed eyes snapping to the door at the end of the short hallway. Pointing at it, the bouncer jerked his head over his shoulder. “Just, uh… Right through there.” Alone in the small space with him, the Nikto lost what little nerve he had, shifting from foot to foot and keeping his eyes anywhere but on the dark slit of Din’s visor. “Alright. Well.” He clapped his hands together in front of him and let out a tense chuckle. “I should be getting back to my post. Can’t trust those pig brutes to decide who gets in and who doesn’t, you know what I mean? You can certainly take it from here. Door’s unlocked. Don’t need me to open it for you, right? Right.”

By the time he answered his own question, the Nikto had already slipped back out and into the arena, leaving Din standing in front of Karesh’s office. Without wasting another moment, he reached for the panel next to the door and used the side of his balled fist to hit the activator switch. With a hitch and a grinding whir, the door slid open diagonally.

“Ah, Mandalorian. I see you got my invitation.” Kol Karesh let out a barking laugh, a thick cloud of smoke bursting from his mouth as he did. Another, thinner column emanated from the lit cigar he held. “Please, come in.” The Abyssin gestured with his occupied hand, wisps of smoke dancing as he moved. As soon as Din stepped into the room, the door slammed shut with much more ease and force than it opened with. “We have business to discuss, you and I.”

“Karesh.” Din’s own voice sounded almost foreign to his ears, anger deepening the tone of it in a way that he hadn’t experienced since Moff Gideon had taken Grogu captive. “The only business I have here is getting my riduur back.” And I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make that happen. “Where is she?”

Karesh clicked his tongue and leaned forward in his chair, setting his cigar down on the rim of a carved stone ashtray. “Your woman is fine.” He gave Din a dismissive wave of his hand. “You think I don’t know how collateral works?” He laughed darkly. “I never wanted to do her any actual harm. I just needed to get you here. And here you are, alone, like I asked, so she’s safe.” Using both hands, he indicated the chair opposite his own. “Now, why don’t you take a seat so we can discuss-”

In a blur of motion, Din grabbed the back of the chair he was offered and threw it against the wall. Two of the legs splintered as it clattered to the floor, Kol’s single eye following the stray pieces.

“I’m not sitting down with you. There’s nothing to discuss.” He felt his nostrils flare and his top lip curl. White hot rage flooded his bloodstream at the audacity shown by the scum seated across from him. The only reason he’s still alive right now is because I don’t know where he’s keeping her. “These are my terms - You let her go, and I let you live.”

Karesh hummed, making a show of pretending to mull the offer over. Reaching for the ashtray, he picked up his cigar, taking a slow puff before blowing smoke out of the side of his mouth.

“Counter offer,” he said through a self-satisfied smirk. “You agree to fight in my next tournament, the details of which…” He paused, circling his hand and causing the red-hot end of his smoke to shed a few embers. “Well, we can work those out later, but you fighting in a tournament would sell a lot of tickets. The bottom line is that you need to make me whole, here, Mandalorian. See, you cut into the Karesh family profits when you… dispatched my brother. The cantina had to close for a time, fights were cancelled.” He sighed, shaking his head. “Not to mention the outstanding debts that Gor owed, which now fall to me to cover.” The Abyssin stamped the cigar out in the tray, sliding it away from himself before crossing his arms over the desktop. “You cost me an awful lot when you strung that idiot up in the street, and it’s high time you paid me back.”

It was already clear to Din that Kol Karesh was a man of extremely low morals. But hearing the way that he spoke of the death of his own kin as though it were nothing but a bad business deal made him seem even lower, even more despicable.

“What makes you think I’m interested in playing by your rules?” His head tilted slightly, but he kept the horizontal slit of his visor trained on Kol’s large eye. “Your brother chose his own fate, and your profits aren’t my concern. My terms were clear. This isn’t a negotiation.”

At that, the Abyssin chuckled. “No, It isn’t. I’ve made sure of that.”

Pulling open a drawer, Karesh produced a holopad and held it up. Din felt his blood go cold as he saw what was being displayed on the screen. No.

It was you, but you weren’t alone.

You were joined by two of Kol Karesh’s thugs - one with the point of his vibroblade resting against the small of your back, the other standing a few paces in front of you and holding a short leather leash. At the end of the leash was a snarling beast, and Din recognized the species immediately.

“You see,” Kol leaned forward so he could glance at the screen without turning it away from Din, just in time to watch you squirm away from the beast’s jaws. “She’s safe. For now. But I can change that.”

Heart pounding furiously beneath his armor and behind his ribs, Din drew his blaster with lightning speed. “I’ll say it one more time.” His growl rumbled through the modulator in his helmet. “You let her go, and I let you live.” I won’t, but he doesn’t need to know that.

The gangster just scoffed. “Put that away before you do something you’ll regret.” Before Din could express that he was a man with very few regrets - and that blasting a crater through the belly of the scum who was holding his future riduur hostage would certainly not be one of them - Karesh tapped the upper right corner of the screen, bringing his attention to a ticking timer. “You’ll agree to my terms before that countdown expires, or Shyrr-” He brought his finger down to point out the Quarren who was handling the animal. “-Will drop the leash.”

Din’s eyes flicked to the timer. Dank farrik. He hadn’t noticed it at first, focused solely on you. He swore under his breath as he realized that because he didn’t know where in the compound you were being held, he didn’t have time to kill Karesh and find you before the clock zeroed out. And I won’t risk her. Seething, he lowered his blaster and returned it to its holster.

“Ah, a wise decision. I haven’t fed that thing in days,” Kol stated. “It's hungry. Just like the ones you let rip my brother apart in that alley.”

On screen, the hulking thug at your back urged you to take a step forward with a jab of his weapon. Rage bloomed in Din’s chest at the sound you made; at the wince on your face, a mixture of fear, pain and defiance. The mongrel snapped its jagged jaws close to your ankles, Kol’s men laughing at your expense.

From his office, the Abyssin joined them. “It would make quick work of your lovely betrothed. Tell me, Mandalorian, do you think it would go for her throat first? Or maybe the gut?” He shrugged. “So many soft, fleshy places to choose from.”

The anger burned through him like acid as Karesh barked out another laugh. “If anything happens to her, I won’t stop until I’ve killed every single one of your men.” Din placed his palms on the desktop and leaned over them menacingly. “And then I’ll kill you.”

Much to the Mandalorian’s surprise, his threat only made Karesh laugh harder. “Ho Ho! You see?” He slapped his knee. “Such fire! I knew you would make for an excellent gladiator, even if it took some motivation to get you here.”

From the holopad, Din heard you let out another pained whimper, the sound hitting him like a blaster bolt straight through his chest. He glanced at the countdown in the corner, then back at you. There was still some time left, but he didn’t need any more of it to run before he spoke. “Call off your men.”

“Is this you agreeing? Before even hearing the details?” Kol blinked. “You really aren’t here to negotiate.” He cackled to himself, then used a wrist comm to call Shyrr. “Show’s over, boys, you can bring her back to her cell now.”

“You got it, boss.” A gruff voice responded through the comm, and then Din watched as the heavily muscled man at your back dragged you out of frame.

“Where are they taking her?” He demanded, balling his hands into fists. “I’m only agreeing to your terms if you let her go.”

“Ah,” Karesh closed his eye and sat back in his chair, the base creaking as it rocked with his weight. “You see now you didn’t hear the full details of my terms.” He opened his eye again, fixing it directly on Din’s visor. “You’ll fight in my tournament, that part we’re clear on. What I didn’t tell you about is the entry fee.”

“Entry fee?” Din repeated, the modulator doing nothing to hide the contempt in his voice. “What are you talking about?” He shook his head slowly. “I’m not paying you anyth-”

“Yes,” Karesh interrupted, standing for the first time since Din arrived, his abrupt motion causing both his desk and chair to move. “You will.” He sneered. “Or I’ll contact Shyrr and Drace again, and they’ll happily dispose of your precious little down payment.” Cocking his head to the side, he took two steps around the desk. “Did you think that trick with the dog is the only one I have up my sleeves?” The Abyssin blew air through his lips and reached into his shirt pocket. “There’s more than one way to skin a loth-cat,” he mused, revealing your Mudhorn pendant, the beskar gleaming in the dim light of the gangster’s office. “If you catch my drift.”

His drift was crystal clear.

He outplayed me. Bo-Katan had warned him that Kol was more clever, more cunning, and more brutal than his brother. And the scum was proving her right, leaving Din with no choice but to follow Karesh’s script. At least until I find her.

Rage blurred his vision, but Din kept his eyes locked on the necklace. “What do you want?”

“I want what my brother failed to gain,” he responded, a sick grin twisting his features. “I want your armor.”

Despite the rest of Bo’s warning, regarding Karesh’s hobby of stripping Mandalorians of their beskar, the demand caught him off guard. He thought back to what he had said when Gor - or the countless others who had tried to challenge him for his armor throughout the years - had made the same demand. You’d have to take it from my corpse.

That was before he had you to lose. And though his armor was as much a part of him as was his flesh and bone, especially the pieces that were imbued with beskar from his father’s armor, you were his life. You and Grogu. Just like the decision he faced on Morak that led to the removal of his helmet, this was another impossible choice to make, because either way he would lose something. But there’s only one right answer.

Before he could reluctantly agree, Karesh spoke again. “I can tell this is a sensitive topic for you. Or, at least it was for the last Mandalorian I did business with.” He laughed, the sound turning Din’s stomach. “But you’re a… special case. See, with you, the thrill of making you remove your armor is worth more to me than what I would get for it on the market. With you, it’s about control. Gor thought he could control you, but he failed. I won’t.”

So it’s not really about the credits. This is about his pride.

Karesh waved his hand as he went on. “So how about this for a compromise. You forfeit your armor today, helmet and all, to buy your precious poppet’s freedom. I’ll hold onto her, of course, for safekeeping, while you earn your armor back piece by piece. You win a fight, you get to choose a piece. Lose a fight, lose a piece. Die?” A smug grin inched its way across Kol’s face. “And I keep the beskar, and the poppet.”

“That’s not going to happen.” Din’s chest heaved with the way his anger changed his breathing. I’m not going to lose, Karesh. You are. “You can count on that.”

“Then you have nothing to worry about, Mando.” The Abyssin tossed your pendant to him, Din catching it carefully in one gloved hand. “Here, as a show of good faith, I’ll let you keep her little trinket. It can help remind you what you’re fighting for.”

The absolute last thing in the galaxy that he would need was a reminder. Though the ceremony had yet to happen, your name had already been written on his heart as far as Din was concerned. He stared down at your necklace in his palm as he spoke. “I’ll need continued proof that she’s safe.” Slowly, he closed his fingers around the sculpted pendant and lowered that arm to his side. “And I’ll need to see her. Not just on the holo screen.”

Karesh rolled his eye. “I know better than to dangle a bruised cachu fruit if I want to get my fathier to run, so to speak.” He perched his hands on his hips and blinked. “You know, I’m in a generous mood, so I’ll cut you another deal. I’ll let you see your little missus tonight. In fact -” He clapped his palms together. “She can be the one to relieve you of your beskar.”

Din’s eyes fell shut as the weight of what that would mean washed over him. Since redeeming himself in the Living Waters, he hadn’t shown his face to anyone aside from Grogu, and only when the two were alone. You had yet to see him without his helmet. That moment was supposed to be reserved for your wedding night, when you officially bound your hearts and souls together. That was when you were supposed to look into his eyes for the first time, behind closed doors and with a soft, warm bed to fall into. Not here on this scudhole planet, in the bowels of a derelict warehouse with Kol Karesh and his goons watching.

His heart sank, knowing that keeping that moment sacred was just as important to you as it was to him. I’m sorry, mesh’la.

“Uh oh,” Karesh filled the silence that Din had let hang between them. “Not getting cold feet are you? This offer won’t last forever, so if you’re not going to take it then let me know. Because a freighter headed for Nal Hutta comes in tomorrow morning, and if you’re backing out now I can still sell that pretty poppet of yours to the Hutt Cartel and-”

Something snapped in Din at the threat of you being sold to anyone, let alone one of the most nefarious crime syndicates in the Outer Rim. Reaching for Karesh’s collar, he grabbed it with one hand and yanked the Abyssin off the ground.

“If you even think about doing that, there will be nowhere in this galaxy where you’ll be safe from me.” His tone was ice cold, but measured and steady.

Struggling to speak with Din’s grip tightening close to the point of strangulation, Kol choked and sputtered out a response. “So…at’s a… a yes, then?” He coughed aggressively as Din dropped him back on his feet. “You’re in?”

With a single nod that splintered his heart and stoked the fury in his gut, Din confirmed. “I’m in.” For her.

“Perfect!” Karesh’s throat still sounded hoarse even as he gleefully used his wrist comm to contact his men again. “Shyrr, have Trixi bring our special guest to the gladiator’s barracks.” There was a muffled answer, and then Karesh was speaking to Din again. “Eight fights. Tournament starts in two days, you get two fights a day. Then, if everything goes the way you’re oh, so sure it will -” his laugh turned into a cough. “- you and your lady will be gone by next week.”

Din just stared at him. And you’ll be dead.

“Now.” Kol stepped over to a clunky storage locker in the corner of his crowded office, pulling one of the doors open. But instead of shelves of data disks or credit ledgers, the entire facade of the locker opened as a door to a hidden passage. “Let’s reunite you with your sweetheart.”

– – –

You hadn’t even been back in your cell long enough for your hands to stop shaking, the bloodthirsty mongrel’s breath still hot on your ankles, when the door at the end of the corridor slid open, the sound of light but distinctly metallic footsteps reaching your ears.

What now?

You stood from the hard bench Shyrr had dropped you onto after Karesh had called off the intimidation tactic. Letting out an uneven breath, you reached for the bars with your bound hands and peeked through them. Though you were unsure what to expect at that point, after being ambushed, abducted, imprisoned and threatened by an underworld gang, you certainly weren’t expecting to see what you did.

What the kr-

“Greetings, human guest!”

A gleaming, silver protocol droid appeared, speaking in a tone that was far too cheerful for your surroundings and situation. You heard the quiet whir of mechanical joints as it took a few more steps to stand before you. Unlike most class-three protocol droids you’d previously encountered, this one had been built with more feminine features, including a stylized shaped head to give the impression of a bob haircut, and curled strands of metal embellished its eye-bulbs to look like long lashes. Before you could insist that you were definitely not a guest, your new visitor spoke again.

“I am TR-1X, Talent Relations Liaison, but you may call me Trixi.”

“Um.” You swallowed, watching as the droid’s faux lashes moved with the programmed blinking of its eyes. This is… bizarre. “H-hello, Trixi. Can you tell me what’s-”

“It is nice to meet you, doll.” The droid cut you off, sounding even cheerier than before as her eye-bulbs glowed happily. “But we will have to save the girl-talk for later. The boss sent me here with a high priority task, and unfortunately I am not permitted to override it in favor of pleasantries. Now, please direct your attention to the far wall and save all questions and comments until the holo has ended.”

With that, Trixi’s eye-bulbs spun in their sockets like casino slots, switching from white to blue as they projected a holo-recording onto the grimey wall of your cell. You turned to have a better view, and as soon as you did, you sucked in a gasp.

Din. Your feet took you a few steps closer to the projection, a quick swell of hope filling your chest. He’s here.

But the relief you felt when you recognized his broad frame dissipated with the realization that if Karesh had sent this droid to show you something, it likely wasn’t something you would want to see. He’s playing with us. The binders around your wrists clattered as you clenched your fists. He wants to hurt Din and he wants me to see it. When it became clear exactly how Karesh intended to do that, you felt the air leave your lungs. Heart pounding, you watched as the man you loved struck a gut-wrenching deal for your freedom. Oh, no. Fresh tears slipped down your cheeks as you noticed the slight change in Din’s posture as he agreed to Karesh’s terms.

“Oh, Din,” you whispered, as the holo ended and Trixi’s eyes spun back to their original state. “I’m sorry.”

None of it was your fault, and you knew that. You did nothing to draw the attention of the Karesh gang. It wasn’t your past leaping into the present. It was Din’s, there was no denying that. But you didn’t blame him. How could you, when it had been you who talked him out of his fears that something like this would happen? You, who had been the one to insist that there would be nothing that the two of you couldn’t face together? There was no blame to be doled out as far as you were concerned, not between the two of you.

But that didn’t change the fact that you were sorry about what was being demanded of him.

“Alright, doll,” Trixi’s sunny voice from behind you made you turn back to face her. “I know I said we’d have time for chit-chat after the holo, but I just received a new directive which means that it will have to wait a bit longer. But don’t worry!” Her head titled at a slight angle as she leaned forward. “We will have plenty of time to get to know one another after this next directive is fulfilled.”

With that, Trixi stepped up to the panel on the wall that controlled the bars of your cell. Batting her metallic eye lashes, she set the bulbs spinning again until they settled on a greenish light. As soon as the sensor on the panel registered the frequency that Trixi was projecting, the bars of your cell slid up into the wall above them, and you were free. For half a beat, your adrenaline fueled brain tripped over itself as you considered your options.

I could run. Should I run? How would I find Din? What would I- You stopped yourself. I don’t have options right now. Not if you wanted both of you to survive this encounter.

With another blink, Trixi’s eye-bulbs returned to normal, and the droid faced you again. “Right this way,” she said, brightly coaxing you to follow her. “I am to bring you to the barracks. There is a new gladiator who requires your attention.”

“Din?” You asked the droid as you stepped over the threshold of your cell. “The new gladiator, is he a Mandalorian?”

Trixi had already begun walking down the corridor, and you hurried to catch up. She swiveled her head so that she was facing you when she responded. “Sure is, doll. Pretty exciting, don’t you think?”

You assumed that the droid would lead you through the same door she had used when she entered the prison wing, but you were wrong. Instead, she paused by a wall panel that looked misplaced, as though it had been installed in error, her eyes emitting the same green light that had worked on the panel of your cell. To your shock, a slice of the wall opened up in front of you, revealing a hidden passage.

Exciting? You shook your head, eyebrows pinched together, and followed your guide through the wall. “No, Trixi, that’s my fiance. And your boss is keeping me prisoner to force him into his tournament.” And to force him out of his beskar.

“Oh, that’s nonsense, doll!” Trixi waved a hand at you, the joints whirring audibly. “Mr. Karesh runs an entertainment enterprise. All of the contracts he draws up for the talent are on the up and up. I know because I review them myself.” She let out a bubbly sound that you were possibly supposed to take as a chuckle. “And you are not a prisoner, silly! You are a guest! That is why I have been assigned to make sure that you are comfortable during your stay here.” Her head swiveled again so that she was facing forward, another of her trilling chuckles accompanying the movement. “Prisoners are not assigned Talent Relation Liaison droids.”

On the up and up? You narrowed your eyes at the back of Trixi’s sculpted bob. Her programming has clearly been… adjusted. Though she was just a droid, you felt bad for her. In a way, TR-1X was just as much a prisoner as you and Din were. You doubted that working for a crime boss was what she had been originally built for, especially with the way that you saw her eye-bulbs function. That’s not standard in other human relation models. And it doesn’t look like she’s got any weapons. Class three droids typically didn’t. What the kriff is a TR droid even supposed to do?

You decided that the best way to find out was to ask. “I know you said we’ll have time to talk later, Trix,” you said, following her around a corner. “But I’m curious. What is the primary function of a TR unit?”

Trixi slowed for a step or two before resuming her pace. “My primary function?” Her eyes glowed a warm gold, almost giving off a nostalgic feeling. “TR units were created to assist in the production of holodramas. My main functions were procuring talent to cast in films and ensuring that things ran smoothly during production. Before I was sold to the Karesh brothers, I worked as a directorial assistant droid on countless holodrama sets,” Trixi stated. “I worked with Wynessa Starflare, Jeffa Day, Dieter Bravo -”

You shook your head. “Sorry, who?”

Trixi’s eye sockets shone brightly with surprise. “You don’t know Dieter Bravo? Wynessa Starflare? But, they were in some of the biggest theatrical epics filmed since the days of the Old Republic! ” When you only shrugged, she made a disapproving noise, her eyes dimming as her shoulder joints drooped. “Oh, I miss Coruscant. No one in the Outer Rim knows their holodramas. It’s depressing.”

“Not much need for that sort of entertainment in the Outer Rim, I guess.” You grimaced, realizing that the kind of entertainment that was in demand in the Outer Rim, was the kind that had landed you where you were - illegal gambling, fighting, and other, even less palatable pastimes.

“No matter! I can still be of use to Mr. Karesh as he builds his gladiatorial business. Ticket sales are ticket sales, afterall!” She was back to her overly perky tone. “Okay, doll.” She turned another corner and a door came into view. “Here we are. The boss said to give you a moment, so…”

You swallowed, mouth suddenly dry, and hurried up to the door, turning to wait for Trixi to open it. As soon as you heard the click of the mechanism, you spun towards the opening, eyes skipping over the various beings scattered throughout the large space and landing immediately on the familiar, tattered and darned material of Din’s cape. As though he could feel your gaze, he turned, taking in the sight of you. It was impossible, then, to tell who moved first, both of you striding to meet the other.

He spoke your name as you reached him, his arms winding around you to corral your body close to his chest. You folded yourself into his embrace, laying your cheek to the cold plate of his armor, tears once again flowing freely as he held you. “Mesh’la,” he murmured, one hand coming up to curve around the back of your head. “Are you hurt?”

You shook your head, knowing that he felt your response. “No, but I…” I don’t want you to have to do this. You pulled back to look at him, his hold loosening enough to allow you to do so. You noted that he had already been relieved of his weapons. Of course. “Din.” You took a shaky breath, tears rolling down your cheeks and giving your voice a watery sound. “I saw what-” You shook your head. “On the holo. They had me watch when you- I saw what you did. What you agreed to.” You shook your head as his hands fell to your waist. “This is not the Way.”

He said your name again, then, bringing one hand up to lift your chin so that you could look nowhere but at the visor concealing his eyes. “The Creed is very important to me. But walking the Way of the Mandalore will always come second to keeping my family safe.”

You knew that to be true. You knew what he had gone through to keep Grogu safe, and you knew when you’d been taken that he would stop at nothing to do the same for you. But you also knew how important his redemption had been to him, and you hated the idea that this stunt of Karesh’s was tarnishing what he had earned in the eyes of his tribe. By the same token, you knew how important it had been for him not to remove his helmet around you until after your marriage ceremony.

“I know, Din.” You placed your palms on his chest. “I just… I wish…” You lowered your head. “This isn’t right. He’s making you take off your helmet. So many people will see you, and-.”

Leaning in, Din rested the front of his helmet against your forehead, one hand curling around the base of your neck. “I have earned the right to wear my helmet after exposing my face before, and I will do it again. That’s not… I care less about that than I do about…” Your heart twisted as he struggled to get his words out. Because I know what he’s trying to say. Oh, Din. “It’s not how I…” He sighed, his thumb slowly swiping up and down the back of your neck. “This isn’t how I imagined it would be, showing you my face for the first time. I… It should be when-”

When his voice broke, so did your heart.

“Then let’s keep it that way.” You swallowed, reaching up with both hands to grip his wrist.

Straightening up, he moved his head side to side in confusion. “But, if you saw the holo, you know the terms. Karesh made it clear that he wanted you to be the one to remove my armor.”

You nodded. “He did.” Moving your hands to the collar of his flight suit, your fingers found the purple scarf you’d given him, and tugged it free. “But he didn’t say I had to see anything.” You handed him the fabric. “Blindfold me before I take your helmet off. I’ll keep it on until you have it back.”

It meant that you wouldn’t be able to watch him in the arena - if that was even allowed as the “guest” of Trixi’s Mr. Karesh. But if it meant that you could protect just a small piece of his Creed, you would do it without question.

You heard the sound of hefty footsteps coming closer, followed by the bright sound of Trixi’s voice as she greeted her boss, and knew that your time alone was coming to an end. “Din?” You looked up at him as he closed his fingers around the scarf in his hand. “I love you. I know we’ll get through this. Please, just… Just don’t get hurt.”

“We will get through this,” he responded firmly. “And I won’t be the one who gets hurt.” Reaching up with his empty hand, he swiped at your tears. “I love you, cyare.”

With that, you turned around to let him tie the deep purple scarf around your eyes, his touch gentle as he knotted the material. It smelled like him, and for a few seconds, you allowed that to comfort you. But as you turned again, one of Din’s large hands taking hold of both of yours, the door that you had come through opened, and Kol Karesh stepped through with Shyrr, Drace and Trixi on his heels.

“Isn’t this sweet,” Kol teased as he took in the blindfold that you wore. “I wouldn’t wanna watch him in that arena either, poppet.” He laughed, Shyrr and Drace slowly joining him. “Okay!” He clapped his hands together, the goons falling silent again. “Go on, poppet. Show us that he’s just a man under there.”

You felt Din squeeze your hand, the gesture small but the comfort behind it

Immense. Returning it, you let out a long, slow breath, and then you released his hand, and began undoing the fasteners that held his armor in place, removing it piece by piece.

When you had finished, and there was a small stack of beskar by your feet, Karesh clapped his hands again. “Very good, poppet. See? Just a man.” His gravelly laugh turned your stomach. “That’s all I need you for right now. Trixi!” He barked for the droid and then you heard the metallic sound of her footsteps. “Bring our guest to her new quarters.”

Trixi appeared at your elbow then, the cool metal of her animatronic fingers a shock to your skin, the difference between her touch and the feel of Din’s armor enormous. “Alright, doll. Time for that girl talk I promised!”

Before she could steer you away, though, you felt something else - something warm and soft and full of promise. You felt the press of Din’s lips to your tear-stained cheek. “I’ll get us out of here, mesh’la.”

Though his Creed had been broken in a catastrophic way, your response felt right as you whispered back to him. “This is the Way.”

It was the last thing you said to him before Trixi pulled you away, the door to the barracks slamming shut behind you with Din - and a room full of beings he would have to fight to win his freedom - trapped on the other side.

-- -- --

Thank you for reading! If you'd like to be added to or removed from my taglists, please feel free to let me know! You can use the form on my masterlist or just shoot me a message!

For now, I'm going to use the taglist that I currently have. Apologies if you get a tag and don't want a tag - it's been a million years.

tags:

@something-tofightfor @pheedraws @beautifuldesastre @alraedesigns @valkblue

@fific7 @commanderlola @cannedsoupsucks @grogusmum @dihra-vesa

@marauderskeeper @disgruntledspacedad @littlemisspascal @mishasminion360 @stevie75

@nyctophiliiiiaaa @practicalghost @tanzthompson @harriedandharassed @woodlandmouth

@thescarletfang @trickstersp8 @imtryingmybeskar @wildmoonflower @mswarriorbabe80

@hp-hogwartsexpress @theredwritingwitch @silverstarsandsuns @competentpotato @pedro-pedrito-pascalito

@jedi-in-crocs @hannahkatharine @anoverwhelmingdin @chiyo13 @myloveistoolittle

@noisynightmarepoetry @Vickie5446 @jessthebaker @pedrostories @woofgocows

#the glandalorian 2024 #november writing challenge #(in december)#skira #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian fic #clan mudhorn #din and grogu #i'm so excited for you guys to meet Trixi!

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theidiotwhowritesthings · 2 years ago

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Not Like This

din djarin x female!reader

warnings: angst, angst, angst, angst. if you're looking to feel better after chapter 23 this is not gonna do it. canon violence, mentions of blood and injury, threats of death.

word count: 1,368

summary: chapter 23 of the mandalorian happened, and you had a front row seat.

SPOILERS BELOW THIS CUT.

"when i can't sleep at night⏤ i stare at the empty side of my bed, and wonder about the things i would tell you, if you were lying next to me." ⏤A.S.

Not like this. Not like this. Not like this. Your heart was racing in your chest, and with every painful beat the words echoed through your skull. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. The fingers wrapped around the back of your neck squeezed hard enough that you knew there would be bruises left in their wake⏤ you could feel his nails digging into your flesh⏤ but the pain wasn’t registering. Not yet. Not when fear and panic suffocated you in a haze the way it did. All you could feel was the heavy weight of Din’s gaze under his helmet. He was reassuring you. Din was restricted in whip cords, brought down to his knees by Imperials, weapons carelessly cast aside, and he was reassuring you in the familiar comfort of Mando’a.

It’s going to be okay, cyar'ika.

No. No, it wasn’t. Moff Gideon’s laugh in your ear told you it wasn’t.

Don’t cry. We'll get out of this.

Were you crying? You couldn’t even tell⏤ you were numb and frozen in shock. This couldn’t be happening.

You’re going to fine. I swear it, cyar'ika. I won’t let them hurt you.

You didn’t care. Your own safety was dangerously low on your list of priorities. If it meant Din got to walk away safely you’d do anything. Literally anything.

Listen to him. It’s alright. Just do it. He’s going to hurt you if you don’t.

No. You couldn’t. Not like this. Din and you had been side by side for years now. Partners in every aspect. It started with bounty hunting. Then, when Grogu came into the picture it turned into running from the Empire. Searching for the child’s home. The nature of your jobs continued to change and alter, but the love between you both had never faltered. It grew and grew and grew until it could be contained no longer. For three years you had been his partner in crime, but only for the last six months had you been his lover.

“Take his helmet off. Now.” Moff Gideon growled low in your ear. Seething in rage at how long this was taking, but not enough to just walk away or do it himself. The bastard knew the weight of this and you knew it was why he wanted you to be the one to break Din’s creed in such a violent manner.

You shook your head again⏤ hands curled into tight fists at your side. No one took the Creed more seriously than Din, but you were a close second. It became a habit for you, living with him, and keeping your eyes away from him in moments when he needed to shed the helmet. Even when he removed it for Grogu, you averted your gaze. Din asked once why you hadn’t just looked when you had a chance, and you told him it was because you respected his beliefs and you wanted to do it right.

And, Din said you would. He swore that when the fight was done, when he finished helping Bo Katan reclaim Mandalore, all three of you would settle. Din would find a safe place for you, him, and Grogu. A place where you could share vows then remove his helmet, creed intact. Somewhere quiet and warm. Somewhere he didn’t have to wear an ounce of beskar on his skin and you could spend the entire night memorizing every detail of him. You had spent countless nights dreaming of that soft moment to come.

Not like this. Not like this. Not like this.

Moff Gideon, impatient and eager for his enemies’ downfall, lifted his hand from the back of your neck to tangle in your hair then he yanked your head back. A cry of pain tore through you as Din lashed out in anger⏤ trying to loosen the Imperials’ hold.

“Take his helmet off or I slit his throat and let his blood pool at your feet.”

He shoved you forward, hand falling away from you, and a sob left your lips. Trembling violently, your hands reached out to settle on either side of the silver beskar helmet you associated with adoration. You loved this man, yet here you were about to forcefully tear a piece of him away.

“It’s alright.” Din whispered. His hoarse, modulated voice making you cry harder. “Do it. It’s not your fault. I want you to do this.” Your bottom lip quivered and you bit down on it hard enough to draw blood. “Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, cyar’ika.”

With a sharp breath, you lifted his helmet and squeezed your eyes shut. Maybe he wouldn’t notice that you weren’t looking. Moff Gideon could make you break Din’s creed, and maybe keeping your eyes shut now was more a nuance than anything else, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Even when the logical voice at the back of your mind told you that Din could redeem himself once more⏤ if the two of you just got out of this alive it would be alright⏤ you couldn’t do it. Redemption or not, this moment would be gone. You couldn’t unsee his face. An Imperial barked out a sound, and Moff Gideon’s hands were on you once more.

“Don’t touch her!” Din yelled.

Moff Gideon strangled you now, his hand wrapped around the front tight enough to steal your breath, “One last choice, you stupid, stubborn girl. Open your eyes and look at the once Mandalorian or I’ll make sure you never see anything again.”

“Look at me. Look at me!” Din roared, you could hear him struggling against his captors again. “Cyar’ika, please. Please look at me.” He pleaded⏤ begged. “Open your eyes for me, please.”

Broken at the anguish in his voice, you opened your eyes and Moff Gideon made sure you faced your Mandalorian. And, there he was. The man you loved. Sweat made strands of his brown hair cling to his forehead while the rest sat a mess on top of his head from where you pulled his helmet off. Scruff along his jaw that you had felt, but never seen. And his eyes⏤ Din’s eyes were the softest shade of brown and the emotions that swirled in his gaze was enough to knock the wind from you. Panic, fear, anger, anguish, but there was also love. So much love and adoration that it made another sob slip from your lips. You wanted to touch him⏤ to tell him how beautiful he was while your fingers traced every line of his face.

Your hand lifted to him, but you were suddenly yanked back so he was just out of reach.

“Take him to the debriefing room.” Moff Gideon commanded and the Imperials began to drag him away. You screamed out to Din, trying to lunge toward him, but Moff Gideon kept a tight grip on your arm locking you in place. In all your focus on watching Din get dragged away, you hadn’t noticed a weapon being drawn⏤ not until the vibroblade pierced your side.

“No!” Din’s scream seemed to rattle the room. You collapsed and clutched your side to try and stem the bleeding that would not stop. It gushed through your fingers painting your clothes and the floor red. Din was thrashing in the arms of the Imperials who carried him off and the last look on Din’s face that you got to see was blinding rage. Then he was out of sight.

You laid your head on the ground⏤ eyes growing heavy. Moff Gideon was addressing the other Mandalorians trapped behind the doors, but sound was slipping away and all you could focus on was the silver beskar helmet lying discarded on the floor beside you. The t-shape visor stared back at you almost mockingly. This was nearly how your day started. Lying on a too small cot with Din pressed to your side in full armor. Soft snores escaping from his modulator while you stared at your reflection in the visor and imagined the day you’d get to fall asleep next to him sans beskar.

Not like this. Not like this.

Blaster fire filled the air and you let your eyes drift close.

Not like this.

[next part]

#the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #mando x you #mando x reader #mando #mandalorian fanfic #mandalorian x you #mandalorian x reader #female reader #reader insert #angst #just all the angst #not even a smidge of comfort #canon violence #moff gideon is a dick #but he does it in style i'll give him that #the mandalorian spoilers

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ak-vintage · 1 year ago

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Quarry - Chapter 9 (Part 1)

Pairing: Din Djarin (The Mandalorian) x f!reader

Summary: Din Djarin is on what he expects to be his last bounty hunt for Greef Karga. After all, Nevarro is swiftly moving away from its previous reputation as a Guild member’s paradise, and Din has more important concerns now, like finding a Jedi to train his mysterious foundling. However, after capturing a wanted starship engineer who would rather go anywhere other than “home,” the Mandalorian is forced to reassess his priorities.

Your taste of freedom had been brief but glorious. Now you are a prisoner of the most infamous bounty hunter in the Outer Rim – it’s only a matter of time before he turns you in. There isn’t much you would not do to keep from being sent home, but as you find yourself growing closer to your captor and his strange little companion, you start to wonder whether escape is really what you want.

Set after Chapter 13: The Jedi but before Chapter 14: The Tragedy.

Chapter Tags & Warnings: 18+ MDNI! Reader is Mando's live-in starship engineer, second-person POV, Din Djarin POV, no use of Y/N, minimal descriptors of reader character, unresolved sexual tension, pining, light angst, implications of nudity

Series Masterlist | Read on AO3

A/N: I see this chapter as the first half of a two-parter. I split it in half for ease of consumption and because when I originally wrote it, I hadn't been able to post in ages. Enjoy these two little vignettes! You will get two more in the next "half."

___

The Refresher

After your conversation in the cockpit on your way to Trandosha, life aboard the Razor Crest returned to normal almost startlingly quickly. Mando permitted the ship to travel on autopilot for once, allowing the flight computer to calculate your path, and spent hours researching the last known locations, backgrounds, and crimes of the newest batch of bounties he had received from Karga. You fell right back into your routine of splitting your time between ship maintenance and occupying Grogu; the boy seemed positively thrilled to be back in his leather carrier strapped to your back as you puttered around the cargo hold. He was full of chatter, cooing and babbling and squealing more than you had ever heard. Not for the first time, you wondered whether he might eventually speak Basic or if perhaps his species simply didn’t communicate that way, but you decided that regardless, you liked the extra noise. You could almost imagine what he might be saying, and you found yourself filling in his half of your conversations in your mind as you went about your work. It passed the time, and it made you smile.

Now that you felt confident that you would be spending the foreseeable future in this way, with the Razor Crest as your home, it took you less than a week to come up with a draft for your largest improvement project to date.

“Hey, Mando – do you have a minute?” you asked, poking your head into the cockpit where the Mandalorian sat, bent over one of the computer consoles in concentration.

“What is it?” he replied distractedly. He did not meet your gaze and instead remained focused on the screen before him, which appeared to be a topical map of a dense, verdant forest.

You tucked the datapad you were holding close to your chest, rubbing your thumbs over the edge nervously. Stepping fully into the cockpit, you said, “I have a proposition for you. I’d like your support to start on…kind of a big project in the cargo hold.”

That was enough to get his attention. Pausing his perusal of the map, he turned in his chair to face you, planting his hands on his widespread knees. “What kind of project?”

His voice sounded cautious, and you could understand why. Most of the work you had done on the Razor Crest up until this point you had done without his involvement. He had purchased supplies for you when you requested, and he was always happy to review the reports you generated to demonstrate any efficiency gains you had achieved, but otherwise, you each had kept to your own activities. This was the first time you were asking for his blessing on something before simply doing it.

You took a steadying breath and explained, “With both of us living here for the long term, I really think we should invest in installing a fully functioning refresher.” You paused for a moment then added, “And an additional bunk, if I can figure out how to make one fit in the space we have.”

Mando was silent at first, appearing to consider the idea. “Is that possible?” he asked, his helmet cocked to the side skeptically. “The water storage and recycling systems on ST-70s weren’t designed to support full ‘freshers.”

You nodded in agreement. You had thought of this. “Yes. With the size of the water tank we have right now, you’re right – we could maybe support a running water sink and a privy, but never a shower. But I’ve been taking a look at the schematics, and I feel like there’s a better way to organize the forward space in the cargo hold.” You tapped through a few controls on your datapad and pulled up your sketch of the design, which you had laid over a copy of the Razor Crest’s blueprints. You held it out to him to examine. “It would be tight,” you added, “but I think, if you’re comfortable with it, I should be able to rearrange the hardware that is currently there in such a way that would allow us just enough space for a water tank one size larger than our current one and a ‘fresher.”

You watched, your lower lip between your teeth, as Mando zoomed in on your sketch, silently making note of all of the proposed changes. “Sounds…cramped,” he said after a moment.

You shrugged reluctantly. “It would be, a bit. But it would have a fully functioning door, instead of a curtain,” you argued. “We’d have somewhere to actually brush our teeth instead of using those chalky cleaning tabs. We’d have somewhere to store our toiletries. And we could take showers.” You almost groaned aloud at the thought. How long had it been since you had experienced such a luxury? “Actual, real, hot showers.”

On the space station that orbited Chardaan where the workers’ barracks resided, rows of sonic showers in communal bathrooms had been the norm. Sonic showers were efficient and generally more practical for space living, as they required very few resources to power, and at the very least, they removed dirt and oil and kept everyone from smelling like they had been living in a metal sphere with recycled air for months at a time. However, to you, something about sonic showers never left you feeling fully clean, and after months without access to even that, you were starting to feel truly uncomfortable in your own body. You yearned for the sensation of hot, soapy water sluicing down your skin and foaming up your hair, and if that was your experience, you could hardly imagine how Mando felt, wearing that suit of armor all day every day.

The bounty hunter nodded slowly as he silently reviewed your plans. “And the bunk?” he asked.

You grimaced. “That one I haven’t quite figured out yet,” you replied hesitantly. “I’m still sketching some ideas. I feel much more confident about the ‘fresher.”

“Hm,” he hummed, passing the datapad back to you. “Well, I approve of the refresher idea. Your design looks sound. Make a list of the materials you’ll need. I’ll see what I can do about getting them during our next stop.”

“Ugh, thank you, Mando!” You sighed heavily with relief, excitement buzzing in your chest. “You won’t regret it!”

A week later, after a successful first hunt, the Mandalorian returned to the Razor Crest with a large, male Trandoshan in binder cuffs and a repulsorlift sled laden with bins of supplies dragging behind him. It was all you could do not to fly down the gangplank and fling your arms around him at the sight. Instead, you managed to funnel that energy into just bouncing in place on your tiptoes as you began unloading the sled, your fingers positively itching to wrap themselves around your new toys.

You could have sworn you heard a rasping chuckle filter through your companion’s helmet as he watched your unbridled enthusiasm, and although it made your cheeks burn, you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

From the time you took your plasma torch to the first piece of durasteel bulkhead to the time the refresher was complete and ready for use ended up being about two weeks of constant labor. But Maker, if it wasn’t a labor of love.

Piece by piece, inch by painstaking inch, you systematically disassembled everything to the left of the bunk, starting with that heinous multi-species vacuum ship head (which you had despised since your first day on board) and going all the way to the forward end of the hull. Water filtration? Enhanced. Clean water tank? Replaced entirely with one of a larger size. Scanners, jamming devices, antennae, even the ship’s headlights – all of it got taken apart down to its components, condensed, rewired, and fit back together to make room for the new space. Aside from the work you had done with Peli on the carbonite unit, it was easily the most challenging work you had ever done on a ship of this age, and you relished every second of it. You had always enjoyed puzzles, ever since you were a small child, and fitting each one of these systems back into the reduced space while still ensuring that everything functioned as it was designed was an especially rewarding puzzle.

Once you felt confident with your modifications, you began installing the refresher itself. Mando had been correct in his assessment when he evaluated your plans – the space was cramped, and due to budget constraints, it was almost excessively utilitarian. You had selected plain durasteel for the walls, privy, and running water sink. A single pane of transparisteel separated the shower from the rest of the room, left open on the far end to allow for easy entry without needing the space to accommodate a swinging door. You had managed to convince Mando to spring for a box of tiles of industrial, anti-slip flooring that would keep you both from sliding around in there, particularly when you were in flight, but other than that minor upgrade, everything you requested was about as economical as you could find.

It was far from glamorous, but by the time you finished waterproofing all of your seals and stepped back to admire your handiwork, you felt a rush of satisfaction at the sight. The Razor Crest was Mando’s ship, Mando’s home, but for the first time, you thought that perhaps one day, she might feel like yours, too.

When you finally felt ready to give everything a true test, Mando was out on a hunt. He had landed the Razor Crest on a remote planet in the middle of a humid forest, well-hidden by a copse of trees hung heavily with vines and moss, and you had neither seen nor heard from him in several days. You and Grogu had just finished your dinner for the evening, and the boy’s wide, dark eyes were heavy with fatigue. Seizing the opportunity, you tucked your little green charge into his hammock above the bunk, gave him a couple of gentle rocks until he began to nod off, and then eagerly dove into the newly-finished ‘fresher.

It was even better than you had expected.

The water from the shower was hot on your skin, almost shockingly so, and steam collected quickly in the cramped space, the fan you had fabricated working overtime to draw the excess moisture out of the room and into the exhaust vents. You had come across a lone bar of soap and a singular bottle of shampoo at the bottom of a storage bin one afternoon, and you used them both liberally. With how long it had been since you had last done so, it took multiple washes of both your hair and your body before you felt fully clean, but you couldn’t say you minded the extra time. It was an unspeakable luxury, to be able to stand under running water like this in a pre-Empire gunship that spent most of her time in hyperspace, and you found you couldn’t begrudge yourself the opportunity to bask in it.

Besides, the soap was clearly Mando’s. It was rich with the warm, spicy, masculine fragrance that you had first smelled in his bunk, and surrounding yourself with it like this had your skin flushing and your nerve endings buzzing. Perhaps you ought to have been embarrassed by your body’s reaction to nothing but a scent, but something about being tucked away in this tiny, little room, with its close walls and its own door that locked, knowing that Grogu was fast asleep and Mando wasn’t on board, had you feeling a bit bold. A bit shameless.

So caught up were you in your own enjoyment that you completely missed the sound of your comm link going off in your jumpsuit pocket, left crumpled in a pile on the bunk. On the other side of the door.

It was several more minutes before you found the motivation to turn off the water and step out of the shower. The prolonged heat (and perhaps also the arousal burning between your legs) had left you feeling a bit light-headed, so you toweled yourself off only briefly before wrapping the soft black material around your body and sliding open the door to get some cooler air.

However, to your great surprise, rather than being greeted by an empty cargo hold, you instead immediately met the impassive gaze of the Mandalorian.

His beskar was caked with mud, though he appeared uninjured, and he was in the process of freezing what looked to be an unconscious female Zabrack in carbonite. The gases were just beginning to dissipate and reveal her serene face outlined in matte gray, and although his body was facing her, his visor was fixed intently on you.

“Mando!” you gasped, your hands flying to your chest to grip your towel.

Silence, dense and significant, hovered between you. The bounty hunter continued to stare in your direction, and you could feel your throat begin to dry out and your heart speed up as you suddenly became acutely aware of your state of undress. Your towel was a little thing, a maintenance rag hardly meant for this purpose, and although it managed to cover from your breasts to the very tops of your thighs, that was hardly comparable to your typical boilersuit. And you had barely taken the time to dry yourself off. Your exposed skin shone in the dim cargo hold lighting; your long, unbound hair dripped a puddle onto the deck near your bare feet.

You felt strangely caught out, almost ashamed, as though the Mandalorian had discovered you in some compromising position.

A familiar, ill-timed wave of arousal flashed through you, raising goosebumps across your body and tightening your nipples as you caught a whiff of the scent that now clung to your damp skin. His scent.

Perhaps he had caught you.

Just when you thought you couldn’t bear the weight of this silence anymore, Mando replied simply, “Apologies.” Even through his vocoder, his voice sounded dry and deep, as though he had pulled the word from the depths of his chest, as though it had been a struggle to do so.

You swallowed thickly and shifted on your feet. “The, uh…” You cleared your throat, awkward and positively burning up from the inside. “The ‘fresher’s done. And the shower’s perfect. You should, uh…you should really give it a try.”

He offered you a single nod. “I will.”

You nodded, too. Your head felt loose on your neck, your mind spinning. “Okay. Good.”

Another silence, and you chewed on your lower lip as you cast your eyes around the room, searching for something, anything to look at that wasn’t Mando’s piercing gaze. Eventually, you landed upon your work boots, stacked neatly at the foot of the bunk, and the rumpled mess of your clothes spilling out of recess in the wall.

“Um. If…if I could just – ” you began, gesturing toward the pile of clothing with a little jerk of your head.

That, it seemed, was finally enough to pull the bounty hunter out of whatever shocked trance your appearance had seemed to inspire. He physically startled, turning away from the bounty in the carbonite chamber and drawing himself up straighter, and he dropped his satchel to the floor with a thud.

“Of course. Yes,” he said curtly, already moving toward the ladder up to the cockpit. “I’ll…start the take-off sequence. Let me know when you’re – ”

You found yourself nodding again. “Yeah, for sure. I’ll meet you up there in a bit,” you replied. Your voice sounded overly bright and forced even to your own ears, desperately eager to move past the heart-racing, thigh-clenching self-consciousness of the last few minutes.

You watched then as Mando retreated up the ladder with a speed that you had never seen before. Tightening your hold on your towel, you slumped back against the ‘fresher doorframe, weak-kneed, and let the durasteel cool your flushed skin.

You weren’t ignorant to the tension that had been building between you and the Mandalorian over the last weeks, but it had never felt like…that. Like his gaze had been a physical touch on your skin, like your core had melted into liquid heat.

Like the delicious, warm slickness now coating the insides of your thighs.

Nothing had ever felt like that.

___

The Bazaar

Din supposed he ought to have known the question was coming sooner or later, but he still found himself somewhat taken aback the first time you asked to leave the Razor Crest during a hunt.

He had been guiding the ship in a steady descent through the atmosphere of Trevi IV, aiming for the spaceport port outside of Trevi City, when you broached the subject.

“I…really desperately need of some new clothes. And hygiene things. Now that we have the ‘fresher, you know,” you had explained haltingly, a charming flush burning high on your cheeks at the mention of your most recent project. “If you’d be willing to give me an advance on my pay, that is. I won’t need much – promise.”

The Mandalorian had found himself almost needing to bite back a groan at the mention of the ‘fresher. You had been correct, of course – the addition of that space had been a marked improvement to the quality of life on the Razor Crest since its completion, but no matter how many times either of you managed to use it without incident, he couldn’t help but recall the sight of you standing in the doorway – cloaked in steam, clothed in nothing but the mere suggestion of a towel, miles of soaking wet skin on display, and smelling unmistakably of him. The vision had nearly unmanned him in the moment, and still it continued to haunt him, even many days later.

It was entirely unprecedented, the way you had come to affect him. The lilt of your laughter at Grogu’s antics, the scent of your hair on the pillow in his bunk, the strong, capable grip of your hands on your hydrospanner, the dark, glossy shine of your eyes as you ran your gaze over his body when you thought he wasn’t looking. All of it had burrowed into the very depths of him, nestled itself near his heart, immoveable. He had never experienced anything like it in his life.

However, rather than confessing any of that, Din had instead simply nodded.

“Sure,” he had agreed. “I need to go to the bazaar district first on a lead anyway. You and the child can join me when we land, get what you need.”

The grateful smile you had sent his way had the Mandalorian feeling his face heat up even under his helmet.

It looked to be around midday local time when the Razor Crest finally landed, and by the time Din was ready to depart, he found you already waiting by the rear blast doors, Grogu strapped to your back in his favorite leather carrier and an eager expression on your face. You had dug an old satchel of his, threadbare and dusty, out of one of the storage compartments, and it hung limply across your body, empty and ready to be put to use. With a wordless nod and a hidden smile, he gestured in the direction of the doors. After you.

It occurred to him as he watched you descend the gangplank that this would be the first opportunity you had had to explore any of the planets he had taken you to thus far. Of course, your time with Peli had certainly been a change of pace from daily life aboard the Razor Crest, but that had been months ago now, and you hadn’t been permitted to leave the hangar at the time. And since then, he had all but insisted that you stay on the ship when he left to hunt. For your safety, and for the child’s, but regardless of how well-intentioned the reason, it wasn’t lost on him how little of the galaxy you had been allowed to see in your life.

Din resolved himself then that although today you would only be visiting a market, only purchasing some necessities, and although he was technically in Trevi City on a hunt, he would not allow you to return to the Crest until you had had your fill of the experience. He was on your timetable today. He would ensure you made the most of it.

It had been some time since the bounty hunter had made his way to Trevi City, but he found it mostly unchanged as he led you and Grogu out of the spaceport’s docking yards and into the city proper. Trevi IV was a desert world, featuring miles of dusty plains and dramatic plateaus, but Trevi City was an oasis. Nestled against the craggy shores of the largest body of water on the planet, cooling, salty breezes wound their way through flagstone streets and buffeted against sundried brick buildings. Shops, stalls, carts, and tents of all shapes and sizes stretched in every direction, around every corner, and the crush of people was truly remarkable. Merchants – both local and traveling, customers of every age and walk of life, street performers in bright costumes, children and small animals darting in and out of the throng. At first glance, it seemed incomprehensible – the epitome of chaos.

And although Din had never been particularly fond of crowds, he couldn’t help but feel a small surge of satisfaction at the look of pure joy that spread across your face as you took in the bazaar.

First on your list, he knew, was clothing, so with a gentle nudge to your lower back, the Mandalorian steered you in the direction of the textile district – a few blocks down and to the left. The stalls there were draped in sumptuous fabrics, decorated with gold tassels, and staffed by women with sun-worn skin and friendly, welcoming smiles. You looked back at him then, uncertain, but Din gave you a wordless nod and scooped Grogu up and out of his carrier without preamble.

“Go on. I’ll keep an eye on the child. Just explain to one of them what you need, and they will help you,” he said, inclining his helmet toward the line of vendors. He wanted you to feel free to browse, to mingle unencumbered.

After a few halting introductions and some hesitant questions on your part, you did just that. From several yards away, the bounty hunter listened to you describe your needs to one of the women. He watched you tug self-consciously on the collar of your well-worn boilersuit, the olive green fabric now heavily stained with blood and engine oil and Maker knew what else, and he watched as the merchant woman nodded along, kindness in her eyes. Before long, she was looping your arm through hers and leading you deeper into the line of covered stalls, pulling items from racks and tables as she went.

Din kept his distance as you shopped, tracking the top of your head as you wound through the merchandise but never following. Only when you ducked behind a heavily embroidered curtain with an armload of items to try on did he look away, instead finding his attention captured by a display of colorful scarves and handkerchiefs fluttering in the ocean breeze. Before he could consider it further, he found himself in front of the display, running his gloved fingers over assortments of linen, cotton, and silk.

Mere moments later, he left the booth, a cotton scarf decorated with a delicate floral pattern in his pocket and a few credits less in his purse.

By the time you were ready to move on to the next items on your list, your borrowed, threadbare satchel was nearly full to bursting. Your face glowed with pride as you showed him your selections – a brand-new boilersuit (this one in a fetching deep blue), a pair of brown cargo pants and a matching jacket, a stack of undershirts, and two sets of soft, black sleep clothes. Din also tried desperately not to notice the new sets of undergarments hidden at the bottom of your bag as he dutifully handed the total payment over to the vendor.

He, of course, was unsuccessful. The images of those scraps of fabric, revealed accidentally as you dug through your sack, were now burned onto the backs of his eyelids, ever-present whenever he closed his eyes.

“Hygiene next?” you asked eagerly, rocking back and forth on your feet like a small child. Grogu giggled from his perch in the bounty hunter’s arms, and the latter nodded, clearing his throat.

“Hygiene is this way,” he replied with a gesture to the east.

His voice sounded suspiciously strained even to his own ears.

Your time perusing the toiletry stalls was much briefer than your time with the textiles, but it left Din perhaps even more disquieted. Your first purchase was a pair of full-sized terry cloth towels, which in turn called to mind the image of the miniscule one you had clutched over your breasts in the doorway of the ‘fresher and caused his brain to short-circuit. You also picked up a wide-toothed, wooden comb for your hair, saying casually, “I don’t know if you have hair under that helmet, Mando, but if you do, you’re welcome to borrow it if you need to! You must get awful tangles,” which left him utterly speechless.

However, perhaps the most taxing of all was the booth boasting hand-made soaps and haircare products. The Mandalorian watched, his throat dry, as your capable, calloused fingers floated gently over the many colorful bars and bottles, occasionally picking one up and lifting it to your nose to give a delicate sniff. Without fail, you would always then extend the item to him, placing it directly below the edge of his helmet.

“What do you think of this one?” you asked. “Or how about this? Too fruity? That one’s too much for me, I think. Oh, this one smells like nightblossoms!”

And on and on.

It wasn’t really that he minded being asked for his opinion. On the contrary, he found your enthusiastic chatter pleasant, and something inside him warmed at the idea that you might actually care about his preferences when it came to your body products. However, there was a singular thought that refused to leave him alone every time you asked for his input, one he dared not voice.

On perhaps the tenth bottle of shampoo that provoked a noncommittal response, you sighed heavily.

“Come on, Mando, give me something here,” you whined, clearly exasperated. “You’re the one who has to be cooped up with me on the Crest every day, the one who has to share a ‘fresher with me. I’d think you might care about whether the shampoo I buy gives you a headache or not.”

Din cocked his head, considering. He thought of the dark, blown-pupil looks you sent his way when you thought he wasn’t paying attention, the burning flush that extended down your chest coming out of the ‘fresher, the way you leaned into his touch the few times he had dared run the back of his fingers across your cheek.

Perhaps…perhaps you might welcome him being a bit more candid with you than he had been previously.

“Well?” you pressed. Irritation crept into the edge of your voice then, and the Mandalorian found himself nodding.

“Very well,” he murmured, soft and gruff through his vocoder. “Follow me.”

Without another word, he led you to another stall, this one carrying similar products as the previous but with an aesthetic that clearly intended to be marketed toward men. The stall was draped in tactical netting with wares hanging from the ropes, and the tables were dressed with simple black cloths. The various bars and bottles were fashioned in more neutral colors, earthy and cool, and the merchant manning the till was dressed in an austere black suit. He nodded in your direction once but said nothing.

It did not matter. Din knew precisely what he was looking for.

Barely a moment later, before you could give voice to the questions that were clearly in your eyes, the bounty hunter plucked a single bar of soap and single bottle of hair wash off the table and extended them both to you.

You glanced from the proffered toiletries to Din’s face and then back again, your eyebrows raised quizzically. “These? You think I should buy these?” you asked dubiously.

He inclined his helmet in the affirmative. “Yes.”

Your eyes narrowed. “What are they?”

He simply continued to stare at you, silent, willing you to reach out and take them. Eventually, you did. Your fingers brushed his as you took the bar and the bottle into your hands, and if Din did not know better, he would have been certain that he could feel the warmth of your skin through his gloves.

Skepticism still apparent in your expression, you raised the bar of soap to your nose and sniffed lightly. Instantly, your eyes widened, and Din watched with liquid heat in his gut as your pupils expanded.

“This – ” you started, then paused and cleared your throat loudly. “This is your soap.” Your cheeks darkened, your lower lip disappearing between your teeth.

“Yes,” the Mandalorian confirmed.

“You – you think I should buy the same thing? The same as you?” You were stammering, seemingly struggling to maintain eye contact.

“It suits you,” he said. And it wasn’t a lie. As much as he enjoyed the scent on himself, it somehow was only enhanced on your skin, your hair. It was comforting, warm and inviting.

It spoke to a primeval part of his psyche, something that purred at the thought of you being marked as belonging to him. Only him.

“Well, it’s all I’ve had ‘til now. You don’t think it makes me smell like a man?” you asked with a forced chuckle, a clear attempt to inject some levity into what had suddenly become a very weighted conversation.

At that, Din could not stop himself from taking a step closer, invading your space, forcing you to tilt your head back on your neck to keep looking in his eyes. His breath came short in his chest at the proximity, and his voice crackled through his helmet modulator as he replied, “Trust me. There is nothing about you that could be mistaken for a man.”

An almost bashful expression came over you then, and you dropped your gaze. “That a good thing?” you murmured.

The bounty hunter could only manage a nod in response.

You left the booth with three new bars of soap and three bottles of hair wash in his favorite scent, the haul quickly added to your satchel with a secret smile and a heavy blush.

At that point, Grogu began to fuss in Din’s arms, whining softly and smacking his lips in the way that you both had learned meant that he was getting hungry, so the three of you ended the afternoon hopping from vendor to vendor sampling a variety of Trevi street foods. Well, perhaps more accurately, the Mandalorian watched as you and Grogu enjoyed the local fare – he packaged up his own to take back to the Razor Crest.

First, you selected an almost comically large wrap from a stall run by a male Bith – a pillow-soft flatbread wrapped around some variety of savory meat, a relish of pickled vegetables, and a bright orange sauce with a heavily spiced aroma. The sauce left broad, messy streaks across your nose and cheeks as you ate, but you paid it no mind. Instead, you simply laughed and plucked a few choice bits of meat out of the flatbread and passed them over your shoulder to Grogu, who was once again strapped to your back in his carrier. The boy babbled and munched happily, and Din took it upon himself to go back to the stall and request a handful of napkins.

Next, you followed the unctuous scent of fry oil to a tiny cart staffed by a Truishii woman. This one was peddling small paper bags filled to the brim with an assortment of deep-fried vegetables, coated in a thin golden batter and soaking the bag with grease. You groaned under your breath at the first bite, and Din immediately purchased a second bag.

Finally, after a bit of leisurely meandering and browsing, you stumbled across an open-air cantina just as the sun was beginning to set. A hired band played a lively tune from one corner of the cantina’s patio, and barmaids wove gracefully between rickety tables carrying trays laden with tankards. The Mandalorian looked on as you watched the band, a soft smile playing at the corners of your lips, your body swaying unconsciously to the beat.

Before he could think better of it, he placed a gentle hand at the base of your spine to get your attention. “Would you like to sit down? Have a drink?” he asked, bringing his helmet down close so you could hear him better over the music.

You startled slightly under his touch, but Din could not ignore the way you seemed to lean into it, or the deep breath you took at the sound of his vocoder in your ear. You nodded silently in response, and the Mandalorian took that as his cue to lead you a table, flagging down a barmaid on the way.

He ordered you a tankard and Grogu a cup of bone broth as you settled into your seat, and the wide-eyed look of overwhelm as you took in the tankard’s contents made Din laugh out loud.

“What is it?” you asked, your voice tinged with awe.

He smirked. “I’m not sure what it’s called. It’s a local brew, made with honey.”

You swallowed heavily, giving the cup one more once-over before taking it in both hands. “Well. Bottoms up!” You inclined the tankard in his direction then brought it to your lips, drinking deeply.

In mere minutes, it was empty, and you were ordering a second, eyes glossy and cheeks flushed.

It was well past sundown by the time Din helped you stand from your seat at the cantina and led you back through the winding flagstone streets to the spaceport. Grogu had long since fallen asleep in his carrier, his little head resting on the back of your shoulder as he snored gently, and you had polished off nearly three full tankards of that honeyed beverage, leaving you giggly and wobbling on your feet. You were singing softly to yourself, humming one of the songs the band had been playing and grinning from ear to ear, and the effect was so charming, it was all the Mandalorian could do to keep himself from joining in.

When you arrived back at the Razor Crest, however, you seemed to have finally burned out all of your energy. You stumbled and lurched up the gangplank the moment it touched the ground, pausing only briefly once inside the ship to drop the bag full of your purchases unceremoniously onto the deck floor. Din called out your name like a question, but rather than answering, you simply removed Grogu’s carrier from your back, still holding the sleeping child, and passed it into the Mandalorian’s waiting arms.

“I have to lay down,” you said softly, almost to yourself.

Din nodded and gently steered you in the direction of the bunk. “This way,” he replied, just as softly.

At the entrance to the bunk alcove, you toed off your boots and then, to Din’s great surprise, stripped off your boilersuit, leaving you clad in nothing but a black breast band, a worn pair of gray undershorts, and a pair of crew-length socks. Everything else was left haphazardly piled on the deck, sure to be a tripping hazard when you woke, but you clearly couldn’t be bothered. Muttering to yourself, eyes half closed, you clambered into the bunk.

“Are you going to be all right?” he asked after a moment.

“‘M fine,” you murmured, your voice thick and muffled by the pillow. “Never drank that much before. Not allowed in the barracks. Couldn’t afford it when I ran away.”

Din nodded even though he knew you couldn’t really see it. “I understand. Alcohol was discouraged during my training in the Fighting Corps. It…takes some getting used to.”

You hummed in response, snuggling deeper into the bunk’s barren mattress. Something inside him warmed, and he smiled softly at the sight.

The bounty hunter took a moment then to carefully extract the sleeping Grogu from his carrier, settling him in the little hammock he had fashioned for the boy that stretched across the bunk alcove. It was only when he was preparing to walk away and settle himself in the cockpit for the night that he heard you speak again.

“Mando?” you called softly.

“Yes?”

“Thank you. For today,” you whispered. You were nearly asleep, your words slurred and slow. “It was wonderful. You’re wonderful. Best day of my life.”

#din djarin #the mandalorian #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin fanfiction #the mandalorian fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal characters fanfiction

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iamsherlocked-1998 · 11 months ago

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𝐇𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐝

Summary: Only memories saved in.

Words: 1000.

Din Djarin x GN! Reader: Just something Sweet. Maybe some moral dilemma.

✧*｡✧*｡✧*｡✧*｡✧*｡✧*｡✧*｡✧*｡✧｡✧*｡✧

It was a hot day, spring weather was sliding inexorably towards summer, light filtered through the window, filling the room. Your duties at the Nevarro library had ended and you were unfortunately picking up Karga's dispatch after the Magistrate had recently passed away.

Grogu was in the other room playing with his friend IG-11, who had followed you inside after round against crime in the city. Then the sound of the boy's laughter filled the air.

You approached full of curiosity only to see how the droid was playing a scene like a holovid format, but instead of being a movie it looked like a recording, in which you could see the boy attached to his mechanical protector while itself shot at enemies. They had to be memories from before you met Mando.

-When is this from? It seems like a difficult situation (you asked with a remarkable question mark).

-The imperials attacked, my task as guardian droid was to protect the child.

The metallic voice filled the room, it was a predictable response, but the playback function was unknown to you.

-I didn't know that everything you saw was recorded, especially after…

You were going to say after being destroyed among lava as The Mandalorian told you, but it seemed unnecessary.

-It is the duty of a good guardian to pay attention to everything around. It also helped to know the extent of the Mandalorian's injuries in medical care.

-Di… Did Mando get hurt?

You had always been aware of the danger that the clan of two faced, especially when they first met and following months, but you did not know that the physical damage would have been of sufficient magnitude to be urgently assisted by a medical droid, nor that Djarin would lend himself to it...

-Yes, after the explosion the bacta was essential for his recovery, also the lack of presence of any living being in the reconnaissance.

That last one made your eyebrows rise to your hairline. The only time the hunter used those words was when he explained the importance for his creed of the… the only possible answer is that he took off his helmet in front of the droid.

-Do you have images of Mando without the helmet?

-Again, it was essential for his survival, I believed that it was well known in beings of your condition that to deal with possible concussion is necessary to access the nervous system in the back of the head.

You rolled your eyes at the attempt at sarcasm.

-Do you want me to play the images for any particular reason?

Your heart stopped dead at the mere mention of it.

-I can't do that, it would be against Mando's privacy… his creed forbids it and is very important to him.

-According to the Mandalorian creed in its literal sense, his members cannot remove their helmet or be seen by others, but he is not even present since it is a projection, it's not real.

Your lips parted, trying to refute that logic was extremely complicated. But it still felt like a betrayal. You and Din had known each other for months and shared almost everything that was possible between two people, but the helmet was always present, without a doubt everything worked very well.

You always had a bitter feeling in your throat as to whether he would really have that last act of trust with you later or things stay the same. Not that it was essential, he was too important to you and his personality meant everything, it was still tempting to use this as a last resort and not let anyone know.

-Play the images...please (you let out a slight resigned sigh).

At that moment the mechanism was set in motion. You saw how Mando was lying on the ground and a metal arm accessed the beskar dome to detach it. What you glimpsed was the last thing expected.

The most expressive brown eyes you had ever seen greeted you, anguish and pain were visible in the grimace of his face and was covered in blood. The state he was in broke your heart, but you smiled sadly. Despite everything, of course Din was beautiful.

He was a few years older than you, but he showed a vulnerability that made him look younger, despite all his experiences, an unusual innocence was observed. His unkempt hair curled at the edges of it, as if he had let it grow longer than it should, he had a faint trace of stubble and a small scar on the bridge of his nose. All of this was finished off by luxurious lips.

You heard how Din in the video mentioned something about his brain and the droid responded with a bad joke, making the man raise his eyebrow, but you couldn't process much more of the conversation as you were focused on the speaker of the words. It was incredible how all his thoughts were reflected without a filter to the outside by his expressions.

You hadn't realized but Grogu was next to you, watching with curiosity and his head tilted at the video of his father, a small soft squeal reached your ears. Suddenly the recording stopped.

-Do you already have the information you requested?

You nodded distractedly at IG-11's voice, which brought you out of your reverie.

-Yes, thank you, but no one can know this.

-You are an authorized person. Who and how the records are accessed is confidential.

________________

The three of you walked calmly through the city towards the small cabin, Din's mission was over and at the end of the day he picked you up to go home.

You were lost in thought as the little green one slept in your arms, you couldn't stop thinking about what you saw, looking at your partner in amazement. Of course the hunter noticed, your gaze was so insistent and intense that it burned him.

-Something wrong? (You noticed the slight amusement in his words, oblivious to the events of the day).

-Nothing, just...I'm glad to spend time together, with you.

Din ascend firmly but gently.

-If you want we can put those shows that Grogu likes so much, so you can rest.

-I would like that.

You said with a wide smile as the Mandalorian held your hand.

#the mandalorian #din djarin x gn!reader #pedro pascal #din grogu #ig 11 #pedro pascal characters #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin x male reader

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burnwater13 · 4 months ago

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Image depicts a head shot of Migs Mayfeld in a black turtleneck and dark green shirt, the Mandalorian wearing an Imp Transport Pilot helmet while being scanned by a computer system security device, and Din Djarin's face, as he is being scanned by the same security device. Caption reads: Seems to me like your rules start to change when you get desperate. - Migs Mayfeld. Images from The Mandalorian, Season 2, Episode 7, The Believer. Calendar by DateWorks.

Grogu blamed himself. He’d asked the question. He didn’t have to. It wasn’t critical information needed to safe guard his friends and family. It wasn’t even interesting information, as things turned out. It was just information. Boring, irrelevant, tedious information that did nothing but confirm that when it came to Migs Mayfeld, Grogu would gladly lump the talkative criminal in the same pile as Moff Gideon, or that guy who hired the Mandalorian to retrieve Grogu from Arvala-7.

Grogu understood that he might be the only person who lumped that chatterbox in with Imp Warlords trying to reestablish the Empire, but he stood by his opinion. Mayfeld was inherently selfish and that just rubbed Grogu the wrong way. Every time he was mentioned. Even in passing.

He and his dad, the Mandalorian, were just sitting on the porch of their cabin on Nevarro. It was late afternoon and Grogu was tired from chasing frogs and Din Djarin had just told him that their next meal wouldn't be for a couple of hours at least. The Mandalorian was kind of idly fussing with one of his vambraces. The retractable cable wasn’t working quite perfectly perfect.

Grogu chirped to his dad and once he had the Mandalorian’s attention he signed his question. How did they find the location of Moff Gideon’s ship? Grogu wasn’t sure why that was a question he had. It had kind of popped into his head and he couldn’t ignore it any more than he could ignore it when his stomach was growling from hunger.

He thought the Mandalorian would be his normally terse self and say something short and to the point. ‘I got the coordinates from a secret Imp base on Morak.’ That’s how he’d answered any number of other questions about things he had done while Grogu was otherwise occupied. He’d described the whole event of taking over the Imp freighter on Trask as ‘I helped the other Mandos out with a problem.’ Accurate and practically free of any encumbering information or data. Grogu had gotten used to responses like that and was lulled into a false sense of security.

Instead, for whatever reason, the Mandalorian blabbed in detail about how they first went to Nevarro to collect Cara Dune and then they went to Karthon, to their ‘chop fields’ to collect Migs Mayfeld. Then how they convinced Mayfeld to go with them to Morak and help them infiltrate that ‘secret’ Imp base because he had once been an Imp, where Din Djarin had to gain access to an Imp data base using a biometric scan of his face, because Mayfeld couldn’t do it. That’s right! The Mandalorian’s face! That face that he wouldn’t let Grogu even see until five minutes before they were parted for what seemed like forever!

As Grogu was about to launch into a whole lecture about betrayal, trust, family, and all of their allied subjects and sub-topics, the Mandalorian had related Mayfeld’s comment about the Creed that he’d made on their way to the base.

“Seems to me like your rules start to change when you get desperate.”

Then Grogu felt his head explode. Just a little. But it was enough for him to throw Mayfeld into the Imp despot pile. Imagine him saying that to the Mandalorian? Him! The guy who admitted to being an Imp, like that was some sort of good thing. The guy who then turned to a life of crime. The guy who would never shut up about anything that struck him as incongruous. What did he even know about rules? It was clear to Grogu that Migs Mayfeld had never met a rule that he was willing to consider, let alone actually follow. That guy.

Mayfeld only did things that benefited Mayfeld. Ever. As soon as he thought that he might be recognized by the Imps crawling through the secret base he knew all about, it was over for him. He was too selfish, too desperate, to do anything but save his own skin. Grogu was so annoyed he wanted to track Mayfeld down and kick his shin. A good, solid kick. The sort of thing that made you limp for a couple of hours and reconsider how you’d been living your life. But Grogu couldn’t do that. No matter how much he wanted to, he had a creed that he followed. It reminded him that everyone had faults and the solution to dealing with those faults was not violence, even if kicking someone in the shins wasn’t very violent.

Nope. You had to consider that no one was the same as anyone else. Everyone had weaknesses and strengths and they differed from person to person. Migs Mayfeld could no more wish to be as brave and fearless as the Mandalorian had been, than Grogu could wish to be as tall as either of the humans. They all had limitations.

But Grogu didn’t have to like those limitations. He didn’t have to celebrate them. He didn’t have to honor them. He definitely didn’t have to endorse them as a way of life. According to Mayfeld the Empire and the New Republic were just the same, but that was objectively untrue. The people causing problems on Karthon were the same selfish Imps that had messed things up to begin with. The fact that the New Republic hadn’t caught up to them yet had more to do with guys like Mayfeld pretending it was all the same so he could ignore the problem he wouldn’t solve because it might put him at some risk.

“Grogu. Buddy. Calm down. I get it. But when push came to shove, Mayfeld still helped me get the information I needed to rescue you. All that talk of his is about himself. He’s the guy who changed when things got desperate. Lucky for both of us, it was a change for the better.”

Yeah. Lucky for Mayfeld’s shins.

Mig's Mayfeld, without his helmet on, wearing the body armor of an Imperial Transport Pilot, while driving the transport, speaking to the Mandalorian who is also wearing the body armor of Imperial Transport Pilot, including the helmet, on Karthon. Greenery can be seen out of the window on Mayfeld's side of the vehicle. Caption reads: I don't know. Seems to me like your rules state to change when you get desperate.

Image from The Mandalorian, Season 2, Episode 7, The Believer.

#calendar prompt a day #the mandalorian #grogu #din djarin #star wars #migs mayfeld

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dontremembermejust · 1 year ago

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Wolfwren crack/fluff fanfic (or fanart) prompts

I need more wholesome/funny fanfics of Sabine and Shin. Feel free to write any of these prompts. All I ask if you tag me and send me a link so I can read it. Thank you!

- Shin speaking Mando’a which surprises Sabine

- Shin being surprisingly good at art. She draws Sabine when she isn’t looking and Sabine finds the drawing.

- Shin and Sabine time travel

- Shin and Sabine switch bodies

- Sabine takes shin dancing. Shin never danced before. I need a dancing fic.

- Wolfwren handcuffed together and going on a crazy journey to remove it.

- Shin, Sabine, and Ezra babysit Jacen

- Shin, Sabine, and Ezra babysit GROGU. (Imagine Sabine meeting Grogu for the first time. Sabine is a Mandalorian becoming a Jedi. Grogu is a Jedi becoming a Mandalorian)

- I’ve seen a lot of fix’s of Shin taking refuge with Sabine and Ahsoka. Itd be cool if there was a fix of Sabine taking refuge at Shin’s camp.

- Shin is Sabine’s plus one to Zeb and Kallus wedding. (You can see the parallels: Zeb and Kallus were stranded on a planet together too)

- Ghost crew reunite.

- Kanan meeting Shin.

- Sabine giving Shin a tattoo or vice versa.

- Ice skating fanfic!

- “You know how to clean a crime scene but not the dishes”

- Shin: “I’m grateful to share the same galaxy with you.”

- “You’re hot.” “oh?” “I just said that out loud didn’t I?”

- Person A laying their head on Person B’s stomach

- Accidental hand touching

- Drunk/high Sabine and Shin

- Wolfwren making bets or doing a fun competition

- Shin being buddies with Ezra. Sabine’s heart is warmed by her two favourite people getting along.

- Ezra, Sabine, and Shin just doing fun and silly things together.

- Cooking together or for each other

- Sabine painting Shin

- AU: what if Sabine was Baylan’s apprentice while Shin was Ashoka’s apprentice?

- chopper and Ezra meddling: they try to bring a clueless Sabine and Shin together.

- shin trying to meditate but Sabine is really distracting her haha

- Sabine and Shin making new lightsabers together.

- Cuddling! Ponchos! Shin booping Sabine’s nose!

- Everyone finds out about Shin and Sabine’s relationship (in a funny way. Like how in Friends, they find out about a certain relationship - S5 Ep14)

- Shin or Sabine singing

- FakeDating! Or FakeMarried!

- Swimming in the Living Waters of Mandalorian

Bonus Angst prompt: “I love you.” “It’ll pass” (inspired by Fleabag)

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awholelottayeehaw · 2 years ago

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Din vs Bo as a Leader

I've seen people say that Bo is the rightful ruler of Mandalore and owner of the darksaber and deserves to lead and I'm genuinely curious to hear from others as to why that is because I'm having a very hard time seeing that point of view. Semi-spoilerish for people who aren't up to date but I kept it vague enough to not be a problem I don't think.

Since CW and Rebels, Bo has continually made choices that negatively impact the people around her. She's a morally gray character who has a list of war crimes on her rep sheet that honestly makes some real life bad guys look green and it baffles me that people want her redemption to be easy. I'm not saying she should never be redeemed, I genuinely believe people should have the chance to turn over a new leaf cause being human is hard, but how she's acting and being treated in Mando feels like a middle finger to those her actions caused harm to. Like she can be sad about her sister all she wants but she willingly joined a terrorist group who spelt it out for her that they planned on publicly executing Satine and followed the orders of two Sith lords, and she didn't see that as a deal breaker. Being sad over that is like being upset that you got shot in the foot when you fired the gun yourself when you continue to make choices that negatively impact others. And this season alone Bo hasn't tried to be a leader to her people, she cared more about the title and the weapon it comes with than actual democracy. She wields it well, yes, but so did Sabine who taught her how and gave her the weapon despite not knowing how badly Bo has fucked up with it in the past. The moment the darksaber was in Din's hands and she lost her crew, she didn't try to scout Mandalore and find other Mandalorians to help her with her decades long failed plan. She didn't try to put any plans together with outside help to achieve her goal or even try to establish a new territory for her people to be safe on until they can find a way to make Mandalore a livable again. She was never an active leader, just someone who craved leadership and believed was owed it because of her birth right and that reflects in the selfish choices she's made while in a leadership position, which include harming Din and Paz. She didn't lead her people into the siege and trap that awaited them, Din did. He shouldered and strong armed his way through and was willingly going to sacrifice himself if it meant a safe planet for his people and foundling. And she wasn't the last out, Paz was, and for that his clan suffered major losses. She had focused more on weapons and supplies for her fleet and siege than the actual people who would help her achieve her goal, and not once has she discussed what she planned on doing once Mandalore was safe for all Mandalorians again. Reuniting and rebuilding isn't the same as establishing a political system that benefits the well being of her people with the promise of a stable economy, fair societal roles, establishing an intergalactic democracy to avoid what Nevarro went through, and combining the differing traditions/beliefs the remaining Mandalorians have to not favor one over the other and unintentionally cause a civil war. Each time she's gained leadership it's always met with mixed support, often not universally, and has led to her downfall three times now for a reason.

Just the same, I've seen people argue that Din doesn't want to lead/rule and isn't the kind of man who'd be a good leader and I strongly disagree. Since the first episode, Din established himself as a selfless character even if it irritated him to be accommodating. He still tried to compromise with the Jawas, didn't turn his back to Frog Lady needing a ride, was willingly going to sacrifice himself to a Krayt Dragon for people he had just met and entrusted with Grogu, went head first into every battle even for people who didn't deserve it (Ran's Crew), was everyone's Ride or Die at least once, became multilingual which was used more to keep the peace than to gain information on his quarries, and has united and mediated more unlikely foes to friends than anyone else in the SW universe. Even if his actions originated with a selfish need (gaining Boba's armor back for Mandalorians, exchanging his services for info on where Mandalorians/Jedi are for Grogu, etc) he still went above and beyond because it's the honorable and right thing to do and his compassion has earned him friendships across the galaxy and allyship on every planet he's visited whereas Bo can't get even her own people behind her without a legendary sword in her hand. You can't tell me all the people Din met on his journey WOULDN'T lay down their lives for him if he asked?? Paz already did despite Din's choice to rescue Grogu despite unintentionally causing a massacre because Paz recognized the selflessness behind Din's choice that carried over to Paz's own foundling and that is what gained his respect and allyship. Din hadn't asked for anything in return, and his own motive for moving the covert was so that their children could play in the sun and the future generations can flourish. I'm fairly certain even Sorgon would join forces whether it's to take care of Din if he had a bad head cold or taking back a whole planet for him. Same with Peli and her droids, Tusken Raider survivors, Freetown, Boba and his syndicates, Frog Lady and her hoard of warrior toddlers, Karga and the grateful people of Nevarro, Ahsoka, and Miggs Mayfield. We've made jokes about Din accidentally making friends all over the galaxy for a reason. He's so selfless that he never saw himself worthy of his Creed, of being Grogu's father, of being a leader when everyone else has told him otherwise. Din's view on leadership reflects his own self esteem wrecked by his cult and it would take everyone he's ever helped to make him see that he is the leader that the galaxy needs to reunite not just The Mandalorians, but all the people and their planets I mentioned. Leadership comes with a burden for Bo, but for Din, it comes with the strength and camaraderie Bo has only ever dreamed of having and that The Armorer overlooked because of her narrow, traditional views. And this is a side comment, but Din mastered riding the stubborn Blurgg after Kuill made fun of him for not being able to conquer it when Mandalorians rode Mythosaurs into battle. Din riding a Mythosaur would be a great call back to that and would gain more respect as a leader than just having the darksaber. In my opinion.

I genuinely hope Bo comes to these conclusions herself and recognizes that Din is more deserving of the role than anyone else and passes the darksaber back to him and helps him see his potential than just saving the day yet again from the very gun she shot everyone with. Redemption for her starts with letting go of the very thing that's plagued her her whole life and leadership is recognizing when you need more time before you can be the example people need to be the best versions of themselves. This isn't a Bo hate post or any stan post, this is a fan post who wants a fair redemption arc for Bo and a chance for Din to rise up to the best version of himself he's capable of being. So yes, I want to hear everyone's thoughts whether you agree or disagree that doesn't involve Bo being the rightful heir or wanting her redemption cause you like her as a character. I want to hear deeper reasons than surface level motives, cause as I said, your favorite hurting over the consequences of her decades long actions she never learns from isn't a good enough reason for her to lead or have the darksaber but I'm down for any other explanations people have regardless if you're a casual fan of the show or lifelong SW fans like myself.

#The Mandalorian #Bo Katan #Bo-Katan #bo katan kryze #Din Djarin #Din #Bo #darksaber #leadership #Season 3 #Mandalorian Season 3 #Mandalore #Din deserves to be Mandalore #change my mind #Star Wars #analysis #Billie speaks #paz viszla #The Armorer

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half-truths-and-hyperbole-louk · 1 year ago

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Louk's Bad Batch rewatch part 17 😁

we're getting extremely close now yalls 😳 so I'm going to either shorten my posts or post them a lot closer together ... like I've reserved tomorrow to do nothing but watch tbb 🤫

either way I hope you enjoy 💕

The Bad Batch 1x13

"it's not the first time she has left out key details" ~ Tech @ Cid yeah bud and it won't be the last 👀

pykes 🤢

Omega recognising Ruby the lil lizard thing

Hunter's plan to leave Ord Mantell and do their own thing WE WERE ON THE VERGE OF GREATNESS 😫 WE WERE THIS 🤏 CLOSE

and Cid's just waiting for them on their ship 😡

"I believe she's threatening us" YES SHE IS JUST SHOOT HER ALREADY

poor confused Omega my bby she's using you 🥲

Wrecker wearing his helmet as a hat again 🥺

Cid: "you guys are good at stealth right?" lmao who's gonna tell her

Cid just pulled a Joel Miller with the "we're silent, not quiet, silent" hehe

Wrecker: "we're not afraid of a few bugs" oop-

okay so did Omega name the lizard thing Ruby or is that actually her name?? bc Omega calls it Ruby and after that Roland calls it that too, so is he just copying her or did Omega like force-sense it's name? like how Ahsoka can talk to Grogu?? 🤔

Echo: "ugh and I thought Wrecker was a slob" pls- 💀 stinky boys

bad guys who baby talk to their pets and blow kisses and cuddle them

HOLD UP 👀 Hunter just slammed on the brakes, hijacked the other cart and jumped back off in time for it to move away 👌👌👌

how many times did I watch Hunter jump in the cart? yes

"at least we got rid of the spice right?" ~ Trace Omega + a bonus Tech looking into the camera like he's on the office 👀

I'd trust Bolo and Ketch more than Cid lolol

lmao Cid really thought she did something 💀

they literally all move at lightning speed to get their blasters out when the pyke says he'll keep Omega 👌 then they: 😡😡😡😡

if I was tbb I'd leave Cid at the bottom of the cavern, take the spice to the pykes and leave the planet

they're in the upside down fr

CAN PEOPLE STOP PUTTING OUR BABY IN HANDCUFFS !!!

but she makes friends with everyone 🥺

Roland: *being a spoiled rich kid* Omega: 'do you do crime'

CID YOU NUTBRAINED GECKO IF YOU WEREN'T SO BUSY TELLING WRECKER WHAT TO DO MAYBE YOU WOULDN'T HAVE SINGLE-HANDEDLY WOKEN THE ENTIRE HIVE-

Tech just yeets the light grenade and yells "incoming" I love him sm 🥰

it reminds me of Boba's seismic charge 💕

Hunter's hand on Omega's back when she stands with him and him reaching for her when she steps to Roland 🥺

Omega covering her face when she thinks they're gonna kill Roland 😭

the way I thought Roland was Vizago from rebels when I first saw them cut his horn 💀

Cid says "first rounds on me" and Tech and Echo smile at eachother 🥰

as always thanks for joining my friendsss ilysm 💕

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freelancearsonist · 9 months ago

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✨ 20 questions for writers ✨

thank you for the tag @amanitacowboy

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

i have yet to move anything over there 😩

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

n/a 😂

3. What fandoms do you write for?

pedro pascal boys, stranger things (eddie and steve my beloveds), oscar isaac, marvel... good grief the list just goes on

4. Top five fics by kudos

according to tumblr top:

#5: we need to talk about steven (moon knight system)

#4: even in the quietest moments (poe dameron)

#3: completely yours tonight (leto atreides)

#2: wingman (moon knight system)

#1: make a move on me (joel miller)

5. Do you respond to comments?

i try to respond to everything!! your comments feed me :)

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

definitely the only heaven i'll be sent to it's like the only un-happy ending i've ever written 😭

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

i'm a sucker for happy endings so all of them 🥲

8. Do you get hate on fics?

thankfully no! you are all so lovely 🥰

9. Do you write smut?

the question should be do i write anything BESIDES smut 💀

10. Craziest crossover?

probably the supernatural cyoa au thing i wrote for dieter (heart of the cards)

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

no thankfully! let's keep it that way please :)

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

not that i know of??

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

no but i really want to!! (this is an invitation)

14. All time favorite ship?

this is tough jsdfsdjlsj can i say din x grogu platonic???? i just love a good reluctant father and his carefree son 🥹

15. What's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

probably the 1970's organized crime fighting FBI agent javi p au 🥲 the idea is very ambitious and it's probably going to end up novel-length if i ever actually get the energy to finish it

16. What are your writing strengths?

i think my dialogue is my strongest point??? i love to yap 😌

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

probably atmosphere 😅 i just feel like i'm not very good at settings or environment sjdflksdfj

18. Thoughts on dialogue in another language?

i wrote a whole fic with only spanish dialogue so fjskfjsdf yes?

19. First fandom you wrote in?

uhhhh captain america fic on quotes don't look @ me

20. Favorite fic you've written?

this is a cross! between all that we see or seem and in shades of gray and candlelight i just had so much fun writing twisty turny stories and i'm very proud of the finished products :)

np tagging @schnarfer @futuraa-free @sp00kymulderr @chronically-ghosted @kedsandtubesocks (sorry if you've already done this ignore me ilyyyyyy)

#tag games

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dindjarinandlysakane · 2 years ago

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The Sweetest Taste | Chapter 19 - "MANDO!"

When Din Djarin meets a beautiful cake seller from Nevarro, do you think he’s just going to stand back and let her suffer at the hands of her abusive boyfriend? After a lifetime of heartache and pain, Lysa Kane realises she’s not on her own any more and finds an unlikely friend in the Mandalorian. And Din Djarin does not like men who treat women like that, not one tiny bit. Friendship/comfort and maybe something more…

Masterlist

Chapter 19

----

It took Din, and the others, six long days to try and track down the Mandalorians.

With their mission a success, Bo-Katan had asked if him had wanted to join them on Mandalore for a while. But with his mind firmly on other things, Din had politely declined.

“Well if you ever need to talk you know where I am,” Bo-Katan had told him pointedly as he had made for his N-1 with Grogu, ready to go back to Nevarro.

Din had thanked her, with a gracious nod of his head.

“And if you want my advice-” she had told him. “...just give her time.”

And with that she had gone, walked away leaving Din with those words to ponder on his long journey home.

It had been good to get off-planet for a few days. The thrill of a challenge and new adventure taking his mind off Lysa’s decision not to go with him.

Not that he had stopped thinking of her for barely a second.

But now, after arriving home, along with a good sleep and some breakfast, Din and Grogu found themselves here. In amongst the tall civic buildings of Nevarro, taking a stroll through the busy cobbled streets with Greef Karga.

“-and that’s when I knew he’d done it. I had the Marshal send him on the first express ship to the New Republic Prison Complex the next morning,” muttered Karga, as they walked side by side, with Grogu floating in his pram beside them.

After being away for a few days, Din always considered it good form to check on how things were doing when it came to his now-home planet.

But he was pleasantly surprised to find out that the new Marshal had been doing wonders for the morale of the City and its inhabitants. Working on cracking down on crime and improving communications between the local and not-so local tradespeople that flew in and out of the now-bustling city.

“Y’know, while we're on the topic of trouble, I’m actually glad I bumped into you,” Karga continued, with a raise of his brows. “A little birdy told me that your name is on the hit list of quite a few of the scum propping up the bars around here all of sudden.”

He looked to Din.

“So you wanna tell me what you’d done to deserve such an honour?”

His comment was wry and sarcastic, but there seemed to be genuine concern behind it.

Din gave a long sigh, scuffing his boots slightly as he walked. His hand lingering on the hilt of the blade at his belt, absent-mindedly.

“I thought I was doing the right thing” he began, giving a shake of his beskar-covered head as his helmet glinted in the afternoon sun. “...helping out a friend.”

Karga stopped, giving a knowing smile, as Din slowed and turned to look at his old friend.

“That friend happen to be a baker by any chance?” Karga muttered, suddenly giving a nod at something over Din’s armoured shoulder.

Din turned suddenly to look at what Karga was gesturing at, seeing a familiar face chatting to a stall-holder across the way.

Lysa.

Today she was dressed in a pale cream belted tunic dress that fell to the floor, with that same old large wicker basket swinging from the crook of her arm. Her hair was down, flowing behind her, catching the warm sun, making her look like a mirage to him.

A feeling of painful longing washed over Din.

A feeling that he tried to suppress as best he could.

Lysa was talking to the stall-holder with a small smile painted across her lips, her face bright and inviting. Like the warmth of the sun on a cold day.

“Well?” came Karga’s voice from his side as came to stand beside Din. “You gonna go talk to her?”

Din gave a huff through his modulator. “I don't think she’d want to see me.”

But Karga at once let out a tsk. “What? A strapping guy like you?” he said in a tutting voice. “Nonsense. “I’ve seen plenty of women over the years try and throw themselves at you, Mando. I doubt she’d be an exception.”

Din continued to watch as Lysa purchased four large bags of flour, before moving onto a fruit stall nearby, her hips hypnotically swaying beneath her long skirt as she walked.

She still hadn't seen him standing across the square from her, and for that Din was thankful.

“It’s not-” he began, giving another shake of his head and huffing more audibly this time. “I upset her and I just don’t think she’d be ready to talk to me again.”

Din noticed Karga stare up at him for a long few seconds, before he turned back to look at Lysa giving a shrug of his robed shoulders.

“Well maybe I might go and introduce myself,” he said suddenly, with a smirk playing across his bearded lips.

And before Din could do anything to stop him, Karga had strode forwards, over towards the heart of the Bazaar.

“Karga!” hissed Din, through gritted teeth, his eyes suddenly widening, watching as his friend cut a path through the small crowd and approached Lysa.

“Excuse me, Miss,” Din heard him say from where he was standing, with his same old booming tone.

At once Lysa turned to him, holding a horned melon which she was squeezing to test its ripeness. Din saw her eyes widen suddenly, and she gave a deep bow, her gaze finding the floor.

“High Magistrate,” she said quickly, her tone modest.

But Karga merely smiled her way.

“We’ve met before, right?” he said in a friendly tone, giving a small frown as though remembering. “You were looking at that little store for lease -the one on the corner of Orizo- I think it was just a couple of days before Life Day last year.”

Din saw Lysa give a hurried nod, as Din watched them, desperate to run and yet somehow rooted to the spot.

“Yes, we did,” she said with a humble smile.

“So…did you get it?” Karga asked, making conversation.

Din noticed Lysa flush at these words, and instantly lose eye-contact with Karga.

“I…um…” she gave a swallow. “My savings couldn’t quite stretch to it in the end…”

But Karga who blatantly wasn't there for mere idle chit-chat, moved the conversation on quickly.

“I think you know my old friend, Mando,” he said suddenly, gesturing with his hand and turning his head, gazing over to where Din stood.

In that second Din could have killed him.

Lysa lips suddenly parted as she turned her head, seeing Din suddenly for the first time.

But Karga oblivious, or perhaps not so oblivious, to the awkwardness between the pair, merely raised a hand and beckoned Din to join them.

“MANDO,” he yelled in a jovial manner, causing more than just a few market-vendors and customers to turn to look at him. Not that he wasn't already noticeable, standing there in full beskar armour.

Din gave a swallow, knowing he would have to go over. For what would it look like if he walked away from her now?

Din looked quickly to Grogu, only to see that his son, who had obviously already clocked Lysa, was already four of five feet ahead of him, zipping speedily over Karga and the blonde woman in his hover-pram.

The Mandalorian could feel his heart start to thump inside his ribs, and his palms become suddenly sweaty.

How was it that he could stay cool when it came to violence or the horrors of this galaxy? But put him face to face with Lysa and he just crumbled to pieces?

He approached slowly, watching as Lysa took a deep breath, tucking a strand of long golden hair behind her ear almost nervously.

“And this little one you must know too,” said Karga as Grogu arrived with them.

Immediately, Lysa smiled at Grogu, stroking his tiny cheek with her two fingers as Grogu gurgled up happily to her.

But she looked up quickly as Din came to stop a couple of feet away, completing the circle.

Her smile diminished a little but didn't disappear completely.

She looked apprehensive and a little nervous - very unlike the Lysa he had last walked through the marketplace with all those weeks ago.

From here Din could just about see the last of the faded bruise poking out from her collar, but he didn't doubt there weren’t fresher ones hidden beneath the layers of fabric she was clothed in today.

This raised Din’s hackles a little as he thought of Crix and what Lysa had continued to allow him to do, just by agreeing to stay with him.

But he immediately softened again, as his eyes met her green ones.

To him she was perfect. Skin smooth and creamy, if not a little tanned by the sun. Hair golden like the sweetest of honeys. And between her brows sat a small vertical frown line that lingered there even when she was happy and smiling.

When Din pictured her face in the darkness of the night when he couldn’t sleep, that frown line was always there, helping to fully form the image of her in his mind.

One day Din would press his lips to that space just above her nose. To that frown line. A simple thing like that was what he longed for these days, above anything else.

The simplicity of being able to touch her…

…hold her…

….kiss her.

To treat her exactly how she should be treated. Like something angelic…something that should be loved and cherished.

But the masked Mandalorian shook himself from these thoughts suddenly, dragging his gaze back to Karga who was speaking - even though Din had barely heard him.

“Mando and I go way back,” Karga commented conversationally, leaning in towards Lysa slightly as he spoke. “You should have seen his armour before all this beskar though. Like he’d picked his way through a scrap heap-”

“Maybe if you’d have paid better for some of the bounties I collected for you-” snipped Din, in a low voice.

But Karga gave an easy wave of his hand, cutting Din off.

“Let’s not talk old business now,” he said with a chuckle, before turning fully to Lysa. “I have to be getting on. Lots of things to attend to today. But it was lovely to meet you again.”

And with that Karga reached for Lysa’s free hand, pulling it to his lips and pressing a kiss to her smooth knuckles neatly.

He offered her one last charming smile before patting Din suddenly on the back.

“I’ll see you soon, Mando” he said in a low voice, uttering the next part just loud enough for Din to hear as he passed behind. “Don’t do anything I wouldn't do.”

Din clenched his jaw in annoyance and embarrassment.

It was typical Greef Karga to do something like this. Wouldn't be the first time he’d double crossed him.

Din paused for a long moment as Karga disappeared off through the crowds before turning back to Lysa.

She was staring up at Din now, mouth open as though she was going to say something, but quickly closed it again, obviously changing her mind.

A silence fell between the pair, Din desperately searching for something to say.

“Sorry about Karga,” he said finally. “He thinks that being High Magistrate means he can bother anyone he wants to.”

But Lysa just smiled at this. “It’s ok. I wasn't busy,” she said in a kind voice, glancing down to see that she still had the horned melon in her hand. She turned and placed it neatly back on the pile over her right shoulder. “Just picking up some supplies ready for the week.”

Grogu at the couple’s side gave a chirp, eyeing the fruit on the stall behind her, his eyes suddenly becoming very round.

“I’m sorry, I haven't bought any fruit yet,” said Lysa sweetly, noting his hungry look and tapping the top of Grogu’s ear affectionately, as she stepped back a little, allowing the child space to see what was on the stall behind her. “What do you want? I can get you some of these yellow berries-“

She bent low next to Grogu and began following his gaze, pointing at the fruit on the table one by one.

But Din gave a quick shake of his head.

“I’ll buy him the fruit,” he said in a firm tone, shooting a reprimanding look to Grogu, who merely ignored his father. “You don't need to do that for him.”

But perhaps his tone was too stern sounding, for Lysa looked up at Din suddenly, her smile faltering and her cheeks turning pink.

“O-Of course,” she said, sounding utterly embarrassed, standing up straight and taking a sudden step away from Grogu. “Sorry.”

But it had never been Din’s intention to tell her off for buying something for his son.

“No, I just meant-” he began, but Lysa gave a lick of her lips, shaking her head.

“I get it, it’s fine,” she said offering him a small understanding smile, she blinked a little and turned herself half away pointing down the long strip of stalls. “I’ve actually…um…I’ve got to go get some pitted beans from Trefden’s stall before they sell out….so I’ll see you around….maybe.”

She looked to Grogu and gave him a final smile before turning and making to head off.

But before he even realised what he was doing, Din opened his mouth.

“Lysa, I-”

But he faltered, as she immediately turned back to him, her chest rising and falling hard beneath her dress.

She almost looked expectant now. Not like someone looking for a grand gesture, but like seeing the person you love on your wedding day after their veil was lifted.

Her perfect marsh-coloured eyes met with his behind his beskar, and for a moment it was like the entire world stood still around them.

Din noted, in that second, how plump and parted her lips looked. How her beautiful her hair was caught in the sunlight behind her. How her pretty eyes darted back and forth across his helmet, as though searching for him.

To him she was a goddess. And nothing more perfect had ever existed.

Lysa waited patiently, but when no more words from Din came, she merely smiled sweetly, and took in a shaky breath before turning away again. And with that she was gone, swept away within the crowds.

Din merely closed his lips once more, his mouth dry, as he swallowed with difficulty.

Even if he had had something to say planned. He knew he would never have been able to say the words.

For here he was, a bounty hunter, a Mandalorian, and not a young one at that, lost for words, awed by Lysa.

And despite knowing that she wasn't his…he couldn't help but dream about what life would be like if one day she was.

And as much as Din knew that he should forget about her. Respect her choices. Just walk away. He knew that that was now impossible. He was too far gone.

But what Din Djarin didn't notice as he stared after Lysa Kane, was a surly-looking Quarren stood in a brown leather robe, leaning against a wall on the far side of the square, watching him.

The Quarren punched in a number into his wrist comm before lifting the device to his mouth, uttering just four words, his eyes still locked on Din.

“The Mandalorian……he’s back.”

………………………..

@its5-15wakeup @thecraftyartist @crazypaine @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @marysucks-blog

Gifs are not mine.

Let me know if you would like to be tagged in this fic to be told when the next update comes out.

#din djarin #the mandalorian #din x oc #pedro pascal #din reader #din smut #din djarin fluff #din djarin oc #mando #din Djarin smut #din djarin imagine

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