A/N: Part 3 is here lovlies! I’m sorry it took a while but there has been a lot going on in my life as of currently but I still wanted to make time for you guys so I hope you enjoy!
Summary: You’re a dangerous wanted fugitive with a hefty price on your head who escaped your home planet from persecution and picked up the job of being a bounty hunter. To keep yourself away from the eyes of those after you, you were currently hiding out in a small planet mostly ran by outlaws and bandits, that is until another certain bounty hunter lands on your trail.
Warnings: violence and language
The sun was starting to set on the planet casting a glow across the landscape. And what usually would have been a warm sight for you to gaze upon like the brushstrokes of a painting, was now cold and even hostile. You found yourself in a large spacious room, darkened by the night sky that could be seen from the large glass windows. Looking around, you had recognized the room from the few details that you could make out. You had been here before. There were only a few sounds that could be heard within your ability, divided between your breathing and the beating of your heart, and the sound of blasters going off in the distance. But as you listened closely, you heard the soft whimpers of children hidden in the shadows of the room, their voices laced with fear.
“Hello?” You called out, your eyes scanning over the direction from where those voices came. “Is anyone there? It’s alright. I’m not going to hurt you.” You held your hands out before you, desperate to reach for something in the hidden depths of the room in an attempt to find and help those frightful children, yet all you could feel was air between your fingers. The more your searched, the more you came to find nothing, just the stillness of the room and the contours hidden in it. You felt a sudden shift in the space behind you and in the air that hovered there, the appearance of a shadowed figure. You had sensed their presence the moment they stepped into the room, and it was someone that you were familiar with, someone you knew well. Turning around, you looked towards the little light that had slipped through the entrance of the area, noticing a cloaked figure standing at the doorway, his tall frame casting a shadow upon the floor.
“Y-you?” You squinted your eyes, making out what you could of the details of their face that was hidden underneath their hood. “Thank goodness you’re here.” You stepped up to them with a relieved expression, the small smile that had been on your lips shifting into a frown once you received a closer look at them. Their face had lost that kindness that you had once knew, and their eyes, you couldn’t seem to forget the appearance of their eyes. The warmth that was once filled within those orbs was now filled with something much more, a fire that was devoid of any form of comfort. You called out their name with furrowed brows, your voice laced with concern, but they did not mutter a single word in response. You knew the signs, yet you couldn’t believe it, you didn’t want to believe it. And then came that sharp sound you were much too familiar with as the glow of an object other than the dim lights outside casted the room in this haunting glow.
“So this is it then?” You shook your head at the figure with tears threatening to spill in your eyes. “Is this what it has come too?” You looked into their eyes, searching their depths for any sign of hope, only to see there wasn’t a single ounce of empathy in them. There was a pain slowly building in your chest, the feeling of every fiber in your being being ripped apart from the heartbreak. “Don’t make me do this. Please.” But the figure only moved towards you menacingly, holding their weapon out before them in an attempt to strike you down. And as you slowly reached towards your hip, that’s when you felt it, that searing hot pain that filled your side as a choked gasp escaped your throat. With widened eyes and gradual loss of feeling in your limbs, you looked up to your attacker with betrayal and written across your features, desperate to see anything, anything that could be a reminder of who they used to be. But you were met with none of that, only to see that there was not a single ounce of remorse behind their eyes. With choked gasps as you struggled to breathe, your eyes darted across their face before noticing a lone tear escape from their eye, slowly trailing down their cheek. And as you reached a hand out to wipe away their tear, as you had done many times before, the world around you blackened as you collapsed to the floor.
You jolted awake from your dream, the crying of the children and the sound of the weapon that had struck you echoing in your ears. Your face was wet with tears underneath your helmet as you breathed out in small pants, finding yourself back in the Mandalorian’s ship instead of the place of your nightmare. The pain was still there, that burning sensation that you had felt that exact night, as if you had been impaled just now. You squeezed your eyes shut against the feeling, concentrating on anything but it and forcing it to die down. To this day, you had no idea why it still flared up whenever you had that particular dream.
You glanced towards the Mandalorian, glaring at the back of his shiny ass helmet. “So. You gonna tell me who you’re taking me to or am I gonna find out when I get there.” You sighed, throwing your head back at the silence from the lack of his response and complete ignorance to your existence. “Right, I forgot. You don’t know how to formulate sentences, or words for that matter. I wonder how many of your bounties had died on the journey of their transportation just by being stuck with your very….lively presence. Bored to death, quite literally.”
You craned your head back, looking back to find the child and seeing him cuddled up in a makeshift bed, fast asleep. Pursing your lips in thought, you turned your head back around. You still pondered why a Mandalorian bounty hunter such as him would be in possession of a child, especially a child that was sensitive to the one thing you had come to forget. It had been so long since you had felt anything like that and you thought you would never come across it ever again. And the more you thought about it, the more you came to speculate that the only reason the bounty hunter had him would be that the child held value, value that would be sought out by those that had an agenda. One thing was for certain, you needed to find out more. Turning your head back around, you stared at the sleeping form of the youngling, quietly calling out to him. “Psst. Psst.”
The small green child sleepily opened his eyes, staring back at you with big brown orbs, muttering out a small blabber while tilting his head at you.
“Hello there little one.” You whispered with a kind smile.
“Hey.” The Mandalorian spoke up upon hearing your voice. “I thought I told you-”
“I’m not talking to you.” You cut him off before focusing on the child. “What does this pile of junk want with you? Is he selling you?”
“I said-wait what?”
The child muttered out a few noises that you could make out.
“Friend?” You quirked a brow. “Is he-is he your protector?”
Another babble of noncoherent words.
So the Mandalorian was protecting him. It had to be against those who were attempting to rebuild the empire, right?
“Wait, so the child is under your care?” You turned back to the Mandalorian to see him stare at you through his helmet briefly before speaking up.
“What business is it to you?”
“What business it is to me is frankly none of your business.” You rolled your eyes. You didn’t have to see his eyes to feel his glare. “Listen, tin man, I’m not going to hurt him if that’s what you’re thinking. You can ask him yourself if you don’t believe me, pretty sure the kid knows the difference between the good guys from the bad guys.”
The bounty hunter stared a moment longer in your direction before turning back around, focusing his attention on the controls in front of him and attempting to land the ship. Wait, had you already reached your destination? You watched as the Mandalorian got up from his seat and walked over to where you sat, crouching down to unshackle your ankles from the chair. “Whatever they are offering you, I’ll pay double.”
Silence.
“What is it that you want? Name your price and I can offer it to you, I have some influential friends. I can get you a much better ship if that’s what you are looking for. Hell, you could use a better ship.” You scoffed before letting out a wince from the way the Mandalorian grabbed you roughly by your arm and pulled you up. “Ow. Watch your grip will ya. Please tell me you don’t handle the poor child like he’s some sort of stuffed animal. Cause if you do, I feel sorry for him.”
“Walk.” The Mandalorian pushed you forward with his blaster pointed at your back.
“Is that really necessary?”
“Move.”
“Alright. Geez.” You rolled your eyes. You had half a mind to disarm him right then and there and flee for your life, but something told you that now was not the right time, that by fighting him once more would only give him more reason to go after you. With your eyes lowered in thought and your hands cuffed in front of you, you walked out the exit of his ship to find yourself in a familiar place, recognizing the same metallic buildings surrounded you. It was a place that you had seen many times before but had not visited in a long time. “Seriously? Coruscant? I’m guessing you want me to walk into that building there?” You turned around to face the bounty hunter with a raised brow, not knowing why you even bothered to talk to him at this point, as if he had anything to say to you.
The Mandalorian stared at you, his expression most likely identical to the helmet he wore. Blank. And for a moment you found yourself wondering what he looked like under that shiny bucket of his. “Move.” He spoke more firmly, using his blaster to push you forward.
“You really need to develop some social skills.”
The streets of Coruscant were bustling with life, with movement in every direction you looked. Speeders zoomed far over your head with a large whistling sound as you glanced around at the area before landing your eyes on a particular spot in the distance, a place that once held a large building of a great importance to you and many others before being burned down. The ends of your lips dropped at the sight, a heavy feeling now settling in your chest as you found yourself yearning for the time you once knew along with the faces that once warmed your every day each time you strolled those halls. You tore your eyes away from the skeleton of the place, returning your eyes to the front as the two of you headed over to the entrance of the building where two guards who stood at front blocked you from entering.
“What business do you have here?” One of the guards asked you, squinting his eyes at you and the Mandalorian in a poor attempt to see through the visors of your helmet.
“Tell the mayor I have his bounty.” The Mandalorian gestured to you with his gun.
Mayor? You scrunched your nose at the thought. What would a mayor have to do with you? You began to think back on when you might have upset a local mayor on one of your many little missions, but none came to mind. Your reputation was well known here, especially in the years before, and the more you thought about it, the more you hoped that you would not be recognized.
The guard gave the Mandalorian a look of consideration before finally stepping aside to let the two of you enter. “Follow me.”
You watched quietly as the metal doors slid open to reveal a decent sized and fashionable lounge, and immediately you were met with the cool air of the conditioned room and the sound of the soft jazz-like music playing in the background to liven up the area. The place was filled with a few local officials including a couple of security standing nearby to scan the area for any nearby threats. Great, this would be a bit of a hassle to get out of, you thought to yourself as you surveyed the area including all the exits. And it didn’t help that the Mandalorian had confiscated your blasters and your knives.
You could feel the gaze of those around you, their pupils tracing your armor as they stared curiously as to who the two new armored strangers could be, though their gaze lingered on the glint of the Mandalorian’s armor. The guard led the two of you into a separate room where in the center lay a boxy cushioned chair where a Rodian sat on top it, chatting away with another individual to his right.
“Ahem.” The guard cleared his throat, positioning himself upright at the mayor’s presence. “Sir. The Mandalorian has your bounty as requested.”
The Rodian stopped at the words of the guard, turning his head to face you with an amused sneer as he straightened out his robes, placing his teal fingers on the armrests of his chair while he leaned back.
“I see you have captured my bounty Mandalorian. I thank you.” The Rodian nodded his head in thanks before turning to one of his advisors, “Give him his credits.”
You slyly twisted your hand together uncomfortably, feeling the cool metal sliding around the skin of your wrists as you tried to break out of your cuffs in a poor and useless attempt, as if you could in any way tear through the metal. You let out a huff of irritation, your eyes following the other Rodian who was most likely his advisor, pull out a pouch of credits from his pocket before handing it over to the Mandalorian.
“You can count it to make sure.” The mayor gestured to the credits. “I assure you it’s all there.”
“So are you just gonna have me stand here or…” You cleared your throat, staring straight into the puzzled expression of the mayor.
“You’re a-you’re a girl?”
“Surprise.” You let out in a mocking tone.
“Impossible. You, mandalorian, you’ve brought me the wrong person.”
“Oh no,” You shook your head, “you’ve got the right person alright. Crik Madon is it? Yeah, I think I remember you now. I ran into your little "organization” back on Tatooine.“
The Rodian who you know came to recognize as Crik Madon, a small mayor of a small sector of Tatooine, sneered at your attitude. His tendril like green fingers clutched the arm rests of his chair before nodding to one of his guards who in turn jabbed you in the back of your knees, the force causing you to fall down to your knees. "Guard, remove her helmet. I want to see the face of the person that behind all this trouble.”
Your eyes widened, your breath trapped in your throat as the guard approached you, his gnarly hands reaching for your helmet in an impending manner. You tried to squirm away, refusing to let your identity be revealed, but the other guards held you back with their claws digging into your arms. The loose strands of your hair fell down to the front of your face from the bun you had put up and the darkness of the inside of your helmet was replaced with the lights of the room as you now found yourself squinting against them.
The Mandalorian had tilted his head ever so slightly at your appearance, his helmet masking the look of surprise that now sat on his face. You definitely weren’t what he had pictured. You were much more prettier than he had imagined, and something about you had set off this suspicion that you were a woman born into a high class.
“Impossible. You.” Crik pointed his finger at you, his large black eyes lost in thought. “I’ve seen you before.”
“I highly doubt that.” You gave a forced smile, yanking your arms away from the harsh grip of the guards.
“No. I know that face. You’re………y/n, you’re from Naboo aren’t you. Yes, and I believe you’re someone of importance. You’ve made quite the enemies with your little diplomatic missions. I wonder how much they’re willing to pay for you.”
Shit. You thought. Him knowing who you were was not a good thing.
“You gonna sell me off like one of your many slaves?” You spat, smirking at the look that he gave you. “Oh I know everything about your little trade. You know, I wonder what’ll happen if I make word of it. Like you said, I’m someone of importance.”
Crik sprung towards you in a fury, striking you across the face with the back of his hand. “You’ve got quite the tongue, though I must say I’m not surprised. I’m sure you’ve done many speeches in the past, senator.”
Senator? The mandalorian looked up at you from under his helmet, a quizzical look on his brow as he was questioning whether he heard that correctly. You, a senator of Naboo? Impossible. What in the worlds was a senator doing out being a bounty hunter?
“You won’t get away with this.” You spat out the blood from your mouth, the crimson color staining your lips.
“Oh?” Crik turned to face you after pacing about the room. “Last I heard. Your duties as senator have long been neglected. And besides,” he stepped closer to you, placing his slimy fingers under your chin to force your face towards him. “Pretty face like yours, I’m sure I can make quite the fortune off you.”
You clenched your jaw at his words, your nostrils flaring as you glared right into his insect-like eyes. “If you value your life, I suggest killing me off right now.”
Crik stared at you in anger for a moment longer, his eye twitching before nodding at one his guards and walking back to his seat. The guard who had led you into the room lifted up his baton before jabbing you violently in the ribs, knocking the air out of your lungs as you collapsed. You laid on your side in a pained mess, your hair matted against your face while every intake of air felt like knives slicing through your chest as your struggled to breathe.
“If you’re done counting your credits Mandalorian, you’re good to go.” Crik sat back in his chair, pleased with himself at seeing you in pain.
The Mandalorian had lifted his gaze from where you writhed on the floor, his hands just barely tightening around the pouch of credits that sat in his palm. “What’s gonna happen to her?”
“You know, it’s unlike a bounty hunter to ask questions.” Crik turned towards him. “But don’t worry. She’s in good hands. You can leave now.”
The Mandoalorian glanced once more in your direction before walking himself out, the sliding doors shutting behind him in a sharp low whistle.
You let out a choked cough, finally regaining your breath as you struggled to push yourself up despite having your hands bound together. You had to find a way to escape. It was now or never.
“Follow the Mandalorian.” Crik leaned over to whisper to one of his guards, his voice reaching your ears as you brought yourself up to a seated position. “Kill him and make sure no one else is on that ship and then destroy it.”
Your eyes widened at his orders, your thoughts now focused on the child as you watched the appointed guard leave the room with a blaster in hand. It was now or never y/n. You could take them all out now with brute force, but it would not be easy. And who’s to say you would succeed in time. You knew what you had to do. Squeezing your eyes shut in concentration, you focused on the one thing that you once knew, the one thing that was your life and purpose of being, the only thing that you had been out of touch with after the events. With your jaw clenched against the strain you were putting yourself through, a ringing started to form in your ears, a ringing that gradually started to form into vibrations that you were able to sense around you. Then there came the sound of the unclicking of a clasp and suddenly your hands were met with a solid cold metal object. Snapping your eyes open from the sensation, your looked down at your hands with relief to see the blaster that you had focused all your attention on, sitting perfectly between your palms. Huh, so you still got it.
“What the-” Crik looked at you in bewilderment, staring at the blaster that was now in your hands before turning to his guards to stop you only to be silenced with your blaster shooting straight through his chest.
The guards stared at their dead mayor in shock before taking out their weapons and pointing them at you with their teeth bared in anger. You dodged the red lasers of their blasters, rolling over to duck behind a pillar as their blasters went off, hitting the wall in front of you. You winced, hissing between your clenched teeth as one of the lasers had managed to graze your shoulder, leaving a tear in the fabric of your sleeve and a burned wound in it’s place. You pressed your back against the pillar, the blaster clenched firmly in your hands as you held it up to you, breathing in a deep breath before turning around just enough to get a good angle. With a few precise and quick pulls of the trigger, you killed off the rest of the guards. Scanning the room to make sure there was no one else of threat, you got up from your position before hurrying out the door.
Panting, you searched around for the Mandalorian only to see him turn the corner with the guard following close behind. Carefully, you sprinted up to them, lifting the blaster in your hands and shooting the guard right in the back. The Mandalorian swiftly turned at the sound of firing, his hand on his blaster as he watched the former guard fall limply to the floor only to reveal you standing right on the other side.
“Relax.” You stopped the man right as you caught him trying to slip his blaster out from its holster. “I’m not going to shoot you.”
“Did you….”
“Did I just save your ass? Yes.” You stepped over the dead guard to walk up to him, blowing the loose strands of your hair out of your face.
“That’s not what I-”
“Yeah sure. I didn’t do it for you. I did it for the kid.” You rolled your eyes before holding up your cuffed wrists. “Now would you mind returning the favor and getting these pesky things off?”
The Mandalorian stared blankly at you, and though you could not see his face beneath that obnoxious helmet of his, you knew exactly what was going through his thoughts.
“Look. If I wanted to kill you, you’d already be dead with your buddy there.”
You watched with a smirk on your blood coated lips as the Mandalorian pulled out the key from his pocket before unlocking the metal cuffs around your wrists.
You couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief, rubbing your wrists to relieve them after being restrained for so long. “Thanks.”
“How did you-” the helmeted man eyed the blaster in your hands that he was sure about not being on you since he had removed all your weapons before looking up towards where you had come from.
“Doesn’t matter.” You stretched out your arms before pressing the button on the wall to open the doors that led into the main room. “Now can we please go before someone notices the mess I left behind?”
You walked past the stunned Mandalorian with a scoff, throwing the blaster down near the dead guard before leaving the hallway. The Mandalorian stared at the corner that led into the room in which you were just held and down at the dead guard before following you out into the main room. To your luck, everyone was much too preoccupied at the moment with their drinks and the jazz band that had now played a newer and more upbeat tone, allowing the two of you to escape the premises without drawing much attention to yourselves. Once outside, you squinted your eyes against the sunlight after having spent your days under a helmet, bringing your hand up to block the sun’s rays from your face. You stopped for a second, turning around to stare back at the same place that had caught your attention not too long ago, that same heavy feeling creeping in your chest before you returned your thoughts to the events of the present as you followed the Mandalorian back to his ship, back to who knows what else would be in store for you.
Kind of like domestic headcanons I guess? But really just focusing on the fact that even though this man acts like a big, scary bounty hunter, his natural instinct is to take care of those around him :’)
warnings: mentions of hunger, mentions of violence
-Din Djarin-
One of Mando’s main ways of showing affection is simply taking care of you. He makes sure you’re healthy, happy, and safe at all times and it’s something constantly on his mind. He views those close to him as being under his protection — it’s his jobto take care of them, and he’d feel guilty if he didn’t. So when you’re his s/o specifically, he takes that to an even higher level
You and the child always eat first. Always. Without. Question.
It’s not just because of his creed, but because the idea of you and Grogu having rumbling stomachs as you sleep is enough to keep him up at night – he’s seen what hunger does to people, and he’ll stick to just eating crumbs if it keeps you and Grogu fed
Once you made him eat first, since you felt bad he always got leftovers, and it took him ages to just take the dish to a room over
Only to come back from the other room after taking five bites and sliding the dish towards you and Grogu. “Here. Now eat.”
“But you hardly touched it,” you said, brow furrowing.
“I’ll be hungry once you and the child aren’t.”
Yeah. Very unhealthy caretaker mentality and he has no idea how to respond when that care is returned
Doesn’t like leaving you and Grogu by yourselves unless he knows/trusts a place well because the paranoia and anxiety eats him alive. What are you two doing? You’re staying in the ship like he asked? The Child is behaving? Neither of you appeared sick before he left, right?
So there’s a little checklist he goes through before he leaves
“You remember where the guns are?”
“Yes, Mando.”
“And the hiding spot if people get on the ship?”
“Mhmm.”
“Double-lock the ship once I’m off, alright?”
“Okie dokie.”
“And it doesn’t open again for anyone but me.”
“Mando.”
“If you’re ever uncertain, a shot to the leg is the best option.”
“Din.”
You and Grogu often sit in the seat behind him when he’s piloting the ship, and despite his reminders to go to bed, you end up falling asleep in the chair often. So, moving with painstaking care and cringing every time you or Grogu stir in your sleep, he’ll move you to your bed — which is basically a collection of every soft thing Mando could find on the ship
If you ever get nightmares he’ll let you curl up against him
When you’re out traveling, you try to suggest sleeping in shifts, but Mando always sets it up so that you only lose an hour or two of sleep while he takes on the brunt of keeping watch
You sometimes get frustrated with him for constantly throwing his own needs to the side and practically putting your needs up on an altar, so you stubbornly insist on taking care of him
And he’s like??? Someone??? Wants to take care of me?? What??
Listen, listen, I know I’ve never so much as mentioned Star Wars here, let alone the Mandalorian buuuut…. I could not resist. This blog is multi-fandom after all, so what’s more fandom to add to the variety?
-Din Djarin-
Whenever you’re in new areas, he always goes first to do a quick look around of the area – make sure it’s safe for you and Grogu and, if not, where the closest exit is. Then, he’ll usher you two in
He’s always hovering a step away until he’s 100% certain this new place is safe, intimidating strangers and making it very clear you’re under his protection
He just likes having you close, being able to have you in his arms and shelter you from everything else
He doesn’t touch you too often in public, simply because a Mandalorian being a bit too touchy could draw unwanted attention. It’s the little touches that convey just how much he cares for you: little nudges on your back when you need to walk past suspicious people faster, brushing against your shoulder just so you know he’s there
Scared of losing you in crowded areas, so he’ll gently grab your shoulder or the back of your shirt to avoid losing you
As protective as he is though, he isn’t suffocatingor anything. He lets you be independent and have fun, and keeps his paranoia to a minimum for your sake
Whenever trouble is rising, his body subconsciously shifts to stand between you and the danger
Hewilluse himself as a shield for you
Sometimes he has nightmares of bad things happening to you or Grogu. The best way for him to get through them is to just check up on you in the night, which usually results in him standing guard outside your bed/room for awhile
He teaches you the basics of combat after a particularly bad nightmare, so he could have some peace of mind
When violence arises, he always directs you and Grogu away from the gore – neither of you need to see that
Any sign of fear in you literally breaks his heart. He’s a protecter, and sees it as his job to keep you safe
If anyone so much as jokes about your safety, Mando will see red
The same brutal hands that pull triggers and end lives will be so delicatefor you, tucking back your hair and rubbing your hand
Mando has given you very specific instructions on what to do if something ever happens to him – safe houses, friends who owe him favors, where to find weapons/money, etc, so that you could basically survive without him in case… you know
summary: Din returns the Boba’s palace after leaving to find his covert, where you want nothing to do with him. “You left. You left me.” Shout-out to @galatially for the prompt!! Thank you ❤️
content: angst, some lovey stuff
paring: din djarin x female reader (only bc I use the term sweet girl)
a/n: AHHH it’s been almost a month since I really wrote and it felt so good to be back. My clinical is going well and if anyone wants to send in anymore word prompts that would be appreciated, I’ll write them when I can ❤️
Din feels the blood rushing through his veins - heart booming in his ears as his throat dries at his nervousness.
After all this time, here you are. Boba kept his promise. You are safe, healthy and beautiful. Just as beautiful as the day he left. The memory still present as ever with tears in your eyes as you beg him not to leave you here.
He stays in the arch of the hall, watching as you tinker around with what looks to be the after of a ship crash. The dark, damp garage gives little away of what you are really doing but the Mandalorian does not need it.
You seem to light Boba’s palace alive, the dark, crumbling edges of stone are no match for you. He couldn’t help himself, Boba had told him you most likely didn’t want to see him but with the news that you have decided to stay with the older Mandalorian and that you were in fact, still here, he needed to.
Fears quickly filled him the moment he saw you, fear of rejection, fears that you will never forgive him for leaving so abruptly like he did. The Mandalorian leans more of his body weight into the arch but parts of the wall crumble against the weight, pulling your attention from the part to him.
summary: Din returns the Boba’s palace after leaving to find his covert, where you want nothing to do with him. “You left. You left me.” Shout-out to @galatially for the prompt!! Thank you ❤️
content: angst, some lovey stuff
paring: din djarin x female reader (only bc I use the term sweet girl)
a/n: AHHH it’s been almost a month since I really wrote and it felt so good to be back. My clinical is going well and if anyone wants to send in anymore word prompts that would be appreciated, I’ll write them when I can ❤️
Din feels the blood rushing through his veins - heart booming in his ears as his throat dries at his nervousness.
After all this time, here you are. Boba kept his promise. You are safe, healthy and beautiful. Just as beautiful as the day he left. The memory still present as ever with tears in your eyes as you beg him not to leave you here.
He stays in the arch of the hall, watching as you tinker around with what looks to be the after of a ship crash. The dark, damp garage gives little away of what you are really doing but the Mandalorian does not need it.
You seem to light Boba’s palace alive, the dark, crumbling edges of stone are no match for you. He couldn’t help himself, Boba had told him you most likely didn’t want to see him but with the news that you have decided to stay with the older Mandalorian and that you were in fact, still here, he needed to.
Fears quickly filled him the moment he saw you, fear of rejection, fears that you will never forgive him for leaving so abruptly like he did. The Mandalorian leans more of his body weight into the arch but parts of the wall crumble against the weight, pulling your attention from the part to him.
The moment your eyes meet the glint of beskar your heart stops. Biting your bottom lip as hard as you can - trying to hold back the tears that threaten to slip past fluttering eyelashes.
With the awareness he steps forward but it only causes you to stand from your sitting position, turning to find the other exit - any exit as he grows closer and closer.
As you pace towards the other way he reaches out, the fingertips of his gloves brush against the bare skin of your arm. Relishing in how close you are once again. “Hey, hey, stop - stay.”
But just as pundgent and bitter as a lemon, you rip from his grasp. Forehead wrinkling as you stare at him with abhorrence, “Don’t touch me.”
“I’m sorry.” He blurts quickly, “I shouldn’t have left like I did. I’ve been thinking all day to what I’m going to say to you and I, - I couldn’t think of anything except for that I missed you, sweet girl.”
“You don’t get to say that - you don’t get to call me that, anymore.” It’s spoken between gritted teeth as you take one more step away from him. “Leave.”
“Are you listening to me?” While din has suffered the fire within your personality but he’s never seen you so filled with hatred but on the edge of tears. His heart breaking knowing he’s the reason, he caused all of this.
Him and his selfish need to stay loyal to the Mandalorian Creed, his own family who has abandoned him. Only now does he realize what a mess he’s made of you. While he thought of you often, he thought you’d be better without him.
“You left. You left me.” The words make his own eyes water as sobs wreck your check. He feels his own grow extremely tight - almost as if someone had a hand wrapped around his throat, suffocating him.
“I didn’t know what to do! I lost my kid, I lost my creed -.” He’s about to explain how much he thought of you, laid up late at night imagining kisses your lips, rubbing your soft skin and nudging his nose into your hair - smelling the smell of strawberries and flowers.
“You didn’t loose me!” The words cause you both to pause. Din knows this, he knows he’s the reason for the strain in your relationship. What did he expect? To come back and you’d accept him with open arms after three months of heart break?
One thing you did learn about yourself over the last few weeks is - you don’t need him anymore. Boba and Fennec have been training you - showing you the way of protecting yourself and with your knowledge of mechanics, you didn’t need anyone - you could make it on your own.
“Don’t talk to me again. I owe Boba a debt - he has cared for me when you left. I will stay to handle this spice business but after that. You’ll never see me again.” Another attempt to exit the room but the Mandalorian can’t fight the urge to touch you again. This time his hands are bare - gloves thrown mindlessly to the ground and the moment you look up, his helmet as well.
His hair is longer than the first time you seen his face on the imperial ship - brown locks curling at the ends. Glossy eyes that beg you to listen, to stay. Vulnerable as ever as he brings your hand to his lips to kiss your knuckles.
“You don’t have to do this -”
“It’s nothing you haven’t seen before, this is me. I want you to know that from this point on I am mindlessly, continuously devoted to you and only you.” He pauses before inching closer and with the feeling of his lips on your skin, you can’t seem to move as brown eyes never leave your own. “You can leave - find yourself and what you want but I will find you eventually. Try everyday until you forgive me.”
“You can’t do that, Din.”
“I can and I will.” Despite the heavy armour he wears, he untucks his under tunic and takes your hand to guide it up and under the fabric. Feeling the hotness of his skin, every round and plane of his skin, the thick muscles of his abdomen until the hairs of his chest tickle your fingers. He lays your flat palm against his chest, where his own blankets yours. “My heart hasn’t been whole, with you here, despite being so upset with me, only beats for you, my love.”
He watches your eyes soften, posture relaxing as if with every tick of his heart is a calming presence but just as quick you pull away, stomping away and out of the room where the Mandalorian smiles. Knowing that this won’t be the last time he will see you.
Din Djarin is the captain of your father - the king’s royal guard and as such is tasked with protecting you. When you leave a child and come back a woman, he sees you in a different light- but he isn’t the only one with his eye on you. Can a Princess and her Knight find a way to be together? (This series has over 40k words)
Din Djarin x Royal F!Reader (Virgin)
Warnings: **Virgin reader* Smut 18+(NO MINORS) smut, language, pining, slow-burn, ✨yearning✨ (each chapter will have it’s own warnings.)
…You kept your eyes cast down, staring unseeingly at the cuffs binding your wrists together. The flesh beneath was sore, raw, and you wished someone would remove them.
But they still saw you as a threat, because you were a mystery—a stranger, dumped in front of Greef Karga by a ruthless bounty hunter that appeared not to know how things had changed on Nevarro.
You had heard some rumours about the fall of the imperial base, the subsequent rebuilding on this planet. But of course, that had been when you were travelling with spice runners, months ago. Or had it been longer?
You’re not sure, actually, how long Letos’ had you in carbonite after…well. You can’t even remember where he had captured you. You would need to deal with the memory gaps later, if you weren’t killed.
You had hoped, rather foolishly when you realized you had been taken to Nevarro, that the changes that the runners had spoken of might mean kinder treatment. But Karga and a woman that wore a Marshal sigil appeared entirely unsure of what to do with you, and so you remained bound on the ground, kneeling as you awaited your fate.
“Even if we did decide to turn her in, going against everything we stand for now, there’s no tracking fob, we have no connections with the Guild—we don’t know who wants her!” Karga spoke in a hushed tone, and you could feel his eyes on you, unsure and at a loss. That made two of you.
Letos’ cold voice spoke from somewhere behind you, “I was never given that information when I took the puck. And it seems the agent who gave it to me met a messy end over on Tatooine,” he paused, and you imagined he was now gesturing at you as his next words rang out, “I’m afraid I have no need for the girl, so if you won’t accept her, I’ll be proceeding to execution. She is too much of a liability and I intend to leave the Outer Rim for good after this.”
He stopped talking abruptly at the sound of a door sliding open to your right. At first, the room was silent and you thought perhaps no one had entered, until Karga’s companion gasped after a beat.
“You’re back!”
Greef moved past you to the silent newcomer, and you follow his path with your eyes, turning your neck and flinching at the stiffness. There’s a few moments of greetings that you miss as your ears thrum with the pain, not just in your neck but everywhere. When you can finally focus again, which takes quite a bit of concentration, you see a tall figure covered entirely in beskar, and you have to search for the word.
Mand—Mandolorian. Yes, that was what, or rather who, you were looking at. A Mandolorian warrior. You had never seen one in person before, but there was no mistaking the helmet, the head to foot beskar armor, or the way Letos’ grunted in irritation tinged with concern as he surveyed the man.
“I hate to interrupt, Karga,” He hissed, and you heard him take a step closer to you. Not wanting to show the fear you felt—because you’d certainly heard his declaration just before the Mandolorian appeared—you worked slowly in your kneeled position to sit straighter. Head held high. “But I do need to make my leave.”
You felt all eyes on you in that moment. The too-thin, scraggly little creature you’d become when trying to flee your past. You hadn’t been raised in a way that made you tough when it came to starving night after night, even if you could hold your own in hand to hand combat or handle a blaster well enough. It didn’t matter when you continued to wither down and then just as you finally found a decent group and started to settle and feel safe, Letos’ stole you away and put you in carbonite.
All you wanted was a hot meal, long bath and to fall asleep in a real bed. And for the nightmares to stop.
Instead, a group of strangers were assessing you, deciding your fate despite none of them even knowing who had originally hired bounty hunters to track you down. If you told them, they wouldn’t believe you anyway. You had no proof. You consider speaking, just to say that you’re pretty sure you were meant to be kept alive, but it seems so feeble a plan you close your eyes briefly as the weight of imminent death settles on your shoulders.
When you open your eyes again, the Mandolorian is looking right at you. His helmet tilts, ever so slightly, and you aren’t sure how you know, but you do—you’re looking straight back at him, and you school your expression to ensure he doesn’t see your fear.
Letos’ patience runs thin, “I’ll take her and—“
“No.”
The modulated voice that comes from the helmet is deep, the tone eerily calm. The Mandolorian takes a few steps—around Greef and the Marshal, his head moving only slightly, though you think he’s looking from you to Letos’, and then something shifts in the very air. Maybe your adrenaline is running so high that your senses are on overdrive, because no one else reacts to the sudden tension.
But the Mandolorian does stiffen, he does turn his head a fraction as if beneath the helmet he’s fixing Letos’ with a mighty glare. And then, in the space of a breath, he moves. Moves like lightning, so fast you can’t even blink before there’s a groan, a wet ripping sound, and then a dull thud as Letos’ body slumps to the ground behind you, dead.
You gasp, petrified, as the Mandolorian pulls the blade from your captors chest and turns to you. A whimper does escape now, though you manage not to wet yourself despite the fear. You want to say something, beg for your life or simply scream, but then he speaks.
“Burc'ya, don’t be afraid,” The modulated voice is softer now, almost a soothing whisper. He drops the weapon and rips the gloves from his hands, revealing golden-tanned, calloused skin. He raises them as if in surrender, “Gedet'ye udessi! You’re safe, you’re safe.”
You’re shivering now, your eyes moving from the helmet to the blood pooling on the ground next to Letos’ body. You don’t know the language he speaks, but you can guess the meaning behind the words. Still, you can’t do more than tremble. As if sensing your thoughts, he speaks again, this time only in basic.
“No one will harm you again, little one.”
You stare at your reflection in the helmet for a moment before pulling in a slow breath. You hold his gaze—at least, based on your best guess of where his eyes are—and your voice comes out softly as you say your name. He should know you have a name.
Another brief pause, and then your body gives out as the adrenaline fades and you sag forward. Your vision pinpricks just as you see him reach out to catch you, and then there’s nothing but darkness…
Short Debts Make Long Friends - snippet from Ch. 7
“What are you doing?” he asks, confused.
“Going to sleep,” you answer matter-of-factly.
“But – ”
“I promised to stop worrying about paying you back,“ you point out, "I didn’t promise to sleep on the bed. Sweet dreams.”
You snuggle down on the floor with your blanket and pillow, all smiles, and he suddenly realizes has he just walked straight into a trap of his own making.
Dank fucking ferrik karking damn it to hell.
“I’ll buy you the droid,” he offers, voice flat.
You pop straight up back from the pillow. “Huh?”
He shouldn’t have been so quick to put the helmet back on. It would be very nice to be able to close his eyes and pinch the bridge of his nose.
“Share the bed with me and I’ll buy you the droid.” He hears his own words play back in his head and cringes.
“Back home that would be considered a form of prostitution,” you brightly observe.
His wince deepens into a grimace. Shit shit shit shit –
Your nose wrinkles. “Do I still have to stop worrying about paying you back?”
“Yes!” he explodes. This was already a raw deal; who knows what you might trick him into doing next?
Short Debts Make Long Friends - Stories of Mando and Reader. Or, an overeducated, underpaid millennial finally gets to go on her first adventure.
Tags under cut - thanks to everyone who has helped with signal boosting!
Short Debts Make Long Friends - Ch. 6 - “How Long Does It Take Someone to Fall Apart?”
You walk a few feet inside and slow to a halt, surveying the accommodations. The room is spartan, but similar enough to what you would expect in a motel at home. Chair, bathroom, nightstand, bed.
It’s a small bed.
Later, you tell yourself. You’ll bully him into taking the bed. Or guilt him into it. Something. He will be sleeping on that mattress tonight, even if it is the last thing you do. And it very well may be, considering the wide variety of ways to kill, maim, or detonate someone that he carries on his person at any given time.
The floor creaks as he sets your new backpack by the door. You mumble a thank you but don’t turn around, choosing to withdraw into yourself instead…deliberately stepping away from the battle of remaining focused and present. You aren’t giving up, you’re giving in, and right now you don’t have to exist any further beyond four walls, a floor, and a ceiling.
The silvery ring of beskar briefly fills the silence as Mando slides the spear from behind his back, followed by a quiet thud as he props it up in the corner. He’s waiting for you to say something, do something.
“Will you…will you be okay?” he finally asks. Given his earlier reticence, he seems oddly reluctant to leave.
“Yeah,” you reply, still facing the bed. “But I need a little while to not be.” Really, really not, you silently add.
“Letters are signs of things, symbols of words, whose power is so great that without a voice they speak to us the words of the absent” - Isidore of Saville
Pairing: Din Djarin x Female Reader (AFAB, she/her pronouns)
Author’s Note: Reader in this series will be based in part on the lives of both Margaret, Duchess of Norfolk and Margaret Paston. This story is set in medieval England, but I have done my best to keep her physical features vague, and as the story progresses her background will hopefully help lend to self-insertion. This will be up on my AO3 in a bit - more historical notes will be left there. Enjoy!
Word Count:2.6k
He comes in the night, on the back of a horse with flared nostrils and hooves that shake the earth.
Your small village is not one to receive frequent visitors, tucked away in the dense woods as it is. In the landscape’s soft bosom, green and quiet, the hunter is a stranger who cannot go unnoticed. He rides through every few months, takes a room at the inn, and departs before the next morning’s first birdsong. Voices hush as he enters the tavern and deposits his coin on the counter. The only villager to have spoken to him is the barkeep, a man with eyes almost as shrewd as the hunter’s.
Even his name evokes chaos. Din. Like the roar of a crowd, the clamor of voices and bodies and metal that exists in the deep recesses of your memory. Swords clashing, men yelling, blood spilt on muddy cobblestones.
When the hunter rides through, the women whisper. Some say their cousins in York have seen him slice a man’s head clean off his shoulders. Others say their fathers knew him as a boy, that there was a time when he was kind and fair. The men claim to have taken him in combat, to have scarred him, that the chain around their necks was torn from beneath the hunter’s cotte.
The hunter passes through like smoke on the wind, seen but for a moment, the smell remaining long after he departs.
Tonight the evening is cool and bright. The sun seems as though it refuses to dip behind the trees, keeping the earth golden and mischievous much later than usual. It is for this reason that the townsfolk are taken by surprise at the appearance of the hunter when they are still working. Their heads turn as he passes, watching the hunter, seeing that he does not stop at the tavern.
Tonight, Din Djarin points his horse’s nose down a different path. He rides towards the estate that sits a small distance from the town, across the river, through thick forest and open farmland.
The family in the manor across the river has lived there since it was built nearly two hundred years ago. Constructed in the Norman style of imposing gray stone, it’s a cold, uninviting structure meant more to be the placeholder of a conqueror than a place where someone might live. An outer wall, fortified at the corners by circular towers, protects the inner sanctuary from attack. It’s relatively small, but it projects an air of nobility and royal favour all the same. Clearly, the family who live here are well-off and have been for some time.
As Din guides his steed towards the building, he sees that it is bustling with activity. Fires burn in the narrow, arched windows and sentries keep watch outside the gates. Smoke rises from within and distantly, so faint he might have missed it if he weren’t who he is, Din can hear the sound of an instrument being played.
It is clear that much business is conducted here. The hunter would be surprised if that weren’t the case, given the flurry of activity present at all Norman strongholds across the island. A young boy rides past him as he approaches, carrying a leather satchel that likely holds letters to someone in the vast country beyond.
Upon his arrival, Din tells the guards his business and dismounts from his horse. He leads her through the front gate and into the inner courtyard where the main house is situated. The mare, called Crest, is one of his most beloved possessions, so he cannot help but watch as a stable boy takes her reins and walks her over to a hitching post. She begins to graze.
Inside, the castle is distinctly colder than the air outside. The walls are adorned with thick, delicately woven tapestries, and the ceiling is painted in bright reds and golds. A young woman approaches and beckons Din to follow, eyes downcast and hair hidden beneath a white veil that falls to the middle of her back. They pass through several doorways, up a winding set of stairs, and down a long, echoing hallway before the woman pauses at the very last door.
She knocks thrice, in quick succession. From inside, a voice calls out, inviting the two of them in.
Your back is turned to the handmaiden and your guest when they walk through the door and into the drawing room. Through the window beside your writing table you can see out onto the grounds below. Outside, two of the guards are engaged in conversation, smiling and laughing between themselves. Though a fire roars bright and hot just beside you, a cold feeling overcomes you and your hands clench where they’re interlaced over your midsection.
“The hunter, Din Djarin, milady.”
The door squeaks and slams shut again, closing you in with this famed, mysterious hunter. He’s silent behind you and it makes the hair on the back of your neck stand on end. You let the silence continue for a moment, interrupted only by the sound of burning logs, before you turn to face him.
He stands there, hip cocked, a gloved hand on the pommel of his sword. His hair is mussed and his beard grows sparse on his jaw. He looks at you from under the ridge of his brow, the whites of his eyes gleaming in the firelight.
“How lucky am I, that the mysterious hunter would answer my call,” you quip, meeting his dark gaze head-on. You don’t fear him like the villagers do - this meeting can only go one way, which leaves no room for preconceived ideas of who this man is.
He raises a brow. “I mean you no insult, my Lady, but I was under the impression I was to meet with the Lord of the house tonight.”
That makes you smile. Of course he would assume such a thing. “No, I am afraid it was I who summoned you, and with myself alone you will discuss the forthcoming matters.”
His jaw works for a moment. “Your husband,” he begins, speaking carefully, knowing the line he’s treading close to, “does he know I am here, at your request?”
“Yes.” Whether he approves is another matter, but the hunter needn’t know that.
He considers this. "What are the matters you summoned me here to discuss, madam?”
You purse your lips, lifting your head, setting your posture out of habit. The light in the room has shifted; the sun is now below the horizon, so the space grows darker as only the firelight illuminates your faces.
“The Lord is currently away on business, tending to his late uncle’s affairs in the south. He is not due back for some time.“ You meet his gaze to underscore the seriousness of your next words. "There have been five attempts on my life since my husband departed. I have reason to suspect they were all orchestrated by the same group, though none of my knights have been able to track them down. I called you here to offer you substantial payment in return for their heads.”
The hunter shifts his weight. He looks off to the side, staring beyond the parchment lying blank on your desk. You watch his face closely as he considers your words. Lines appear between and above his brows, and his lips turn down at the corners.
You can tell he’s thinking about it, so you sweeten the pot, so to say.
“I can pay you one-third the reward up front for each man you pursue, and the rest once I have confirmation that they are dead.”
“I don’t work for hire, madam.”
You scoff. “Do you take me for a fool, Din Djarin?”
His eyes meet yours and something in them softens, ever so slightly. Outside, someone shouts, followed by raucous laughter.
“No, madam. I collect bounties placed on criminals by the crown, not by private individuals. No matter how pressing the issue may be.“
The words make you bristle; they border on disrespect, suggesting that he is a man beholden to no one rather than a subject who regularly passes through your lands uninhibited. To act as though he is too good to collect your reward, despite not even knowing what it is. You tilt your head, clasping your hands behind your back.
Clearly this man knows not the implications of what he says. You should have expected as much from someone with his background, or lack thereof.
"Iam the crown in every way that concerns someone of your standing, hunter. If you do not need the coin, then say as much. But do not let your frivolous self-imposed rules inflate your ego beyond your name.”
That makes the hunter narrow his eyes. He takes a step forward, his broad shoulders looming over you, as though he intends to intimidate you into simply accepting what he just said. No, you think to yourself, not moving an inch, I am not a woman who can be bullied into obedience. You lift your chin so as to more easily look him in the eye.
“How quickly the lady of the house forgets her roots,” he mutters.
The fire of anger within you roars to life, brighter and hotter than that which warms your faces. You feel your mouth curl down into an ugly sneer, eyes widening in shock. How darehe!
Just as you’re opening your mouth to assure him of his imminent demise at the hands of one of your guards, a commotion can be heard approaching quickly in the hallway beyond the door. Footsteps, many pairs of them, all running, overlapped by the sounds of indiscernible shouting. You and the hunter forget for a moment your quarrel and each turn to look at the door.
“My Lady!"
The voice is that of your handmaiden. She sounds terrified, her words nearly screams as they echo through the stone walls of your castle. On instinct you step back, positioning the hunter between yourself and the door.
Another scream, this one cut too short. Men holler and then the door rattles violently. You catch a glimpse of the hunter drawing his sword before you’re diving towards your desk, frantically searching for the item you know lies in one of its drawers.
You can hear as the wooden door swings and slams against the stone wall beside it. Your fingers find the handle of your dagger and you spin around just in time to catch sight of the hunter’s sword slicing a man’s stomach clean through. Another attacker launches himself at you. Meaty hands grab at your arms and shoulders, the seams of your dress tearing under blunt, bloody nails. The length of your dagger finds one of the gaps between his ribs and he slumps, his breathing gone ragged and shallow and weak.
As you yank your dagger out of the man’s side you look up and see that the hunter has taken down two more men and is occupied with a third, their swords locked crosswise together. The attacker, who you belatedly recognize as one of the guards who was stationed outside the gate not an hour ago, shifts his stance and presses forward, his blade inching closer to the hunter’s face.
Din Djarin grunts and, in a move you’ve never seen the likes of before, uses his sword to twist the other right out of the man’s hands. He shifts his grip and, fast as a streak of lightning, brings the gleaming steel down on the attacker’s delicate neck.
The silence that follows is interrupted only by your shared, labored breathing. The hunter stoops to wipe his bloodied sword on the fabric of the headless man’s tunic, then stands and faces you.
You grit your teeth, standing up straight, dagger still firmly gripped in your hand.
"Thank you,” you tell him. He nods once.
“Gather your things,” he says, as though it’s the most obvious statement in the world. He begins searching through the men’s clothing, emptying their pockets of coin and small weapons.
You balk. “Excuse me?”
“Gather your things,” he repeats, “we don’t have much time. There could be more approaching as we speak, we must go.”
“We? I am not going anywhere with you, you… you…”
The hunter looks up at you with tired eyes. “Then you will die.”
It is so blunt, so honest, that your mouth snaps shut with the realization that he’s right. You look around the room - a space that was once a haven for you to execute your duties as a noble woman is now littered with the bodies of traitors. This place can no longer guarantee your safety, not when the very men charged with protecting you were the ones to nearly kill you.
A strand of hair has come untucked from your wimple and veil. You feel it brushing your forehead, out of place and irksome. With a trembling hand, you reach up and tuck it away under the white linen that marks you a married woman.
“Very well.”
There are only a few things you know you must bring: your Bible, a wooden box filled with coin, your mother’s ring, and an extra set of garments. You decide at the last moment to pack your parchment, wax, stamp, and writing implements, just in case.
Din Djarin walks with long, determined strides, sure-footed without room for question. Keeping pace beside him, you avert your eyes when you pass the body of your handmaiden; she was one of few kindnesses you were allowed in this place, and to see her light snuffed out like that of a candle would surely test your resolve more than anything else you’ve been through today. You follow the hunter down the stairs and out into the main foyer, where the grand front doors stand wide open. As you step through them, you close them behind you. You’ll have to write to someone - anyone, but most likely your husband’s brother, who lives the nearest of any of the family - to ask that they look after the estate. That they clean up the mess you’ve left behind.
It sours your heart to think of the damage you’re causing the family, running off in the night like this, but if you stay any longer you’ll surely be killed. Especially if you’re alone, without guards.
Shutting and locking the doors must do for now.
Outside, all is quiet. A horse grazes on the lawn; you assume this must be his, for you’ve never seen the buckskin mare before. You immediately make your way to the stables, where your beloved stallion should be waiting. The ink-black horse, called Voyager, has been in your care since he was a colt. His temper is volatile with everyone except you and it’s a small comfort knowing your companion will come along.
You saddle the horse with as much haste as you can manage, securing your belongings inside the leather saddlebags. Then, though your skirts limit your mobility somewhat, you mount Voyager and guide him out of the stables.
Djarin is waiting near the outer gates. He sits upon his horse with a hand on his hip, watching you. Though his expression remains stony, something in his posture tells you he’s surprised to see you so comfortable in the saddle.
“What?” you ask, though it comes out a bit more defensive than you intended. “Surely you didn’t think I spent all my waking hours in that dreadful tower, did you?”
The hunter says nothing. There’s a beat, a moment of silence drawn out too long, and then he takes the reins in one hand and turns towards the path that leads away from your home. You’ll have to cut through the forest to avoid the village, even though night has fallen, to avoid any chance of anyone seeing the two of you leaving together.
As you follow your reluctant protector away from your home, away from the monument to the family you married into not long ago, you do not turn and look back.
Important Note: This is a test series. Meaning, I have only written a certain number of chapters. If the series is popular I will put out more updates, if it does not gain attention, the series will be cancelled.
Reader x Din / TV Rating: TV MA (Violence, Language)/ This fic takes place after the events of season two and will not follow the Book Of BobaFett Canon
“Ensure the safe return of the girl and you will get your ship.”
A deal that would place The Mandalorian in the middle of centuries old conflict between two ruling families of the planet. Din must choose between aiding the princesses’ plot for revenge or leaving Atlas with his life. “All live to die, and rise to fall.”― Christopher Marlowe, Edward II
You looked from the bent iron fire poker up to the man cloaked in beskar. In one fluid motion you dropped the stick, hiked up your skirts, and fled on foot. You had no sense of where you were going, only that it was going to be as far away from the mandalorian as possible. Once you entered the treeline, you dared a glance behind you at the small cottage from which you fled. The scene left you bewildered to say the very least; the cottage and the clearing were as unassuming as ever. You continued to charge on, further into the foliage - Your path lit only by slivers of moonlight and bioluminescent flowers
You slowed to a stop after running for another twenty minutes. You held your breath and waited for a moment, still nothing.
‘It couldn’t have been that easy,’ you thought.
Maybe the stories of your childhood were fabricated after all. An animal called from a tree high above your head. The realization washed over you. You were now faced with a new challenge, getting out…but the sun would not rise again for another three wake cycles, you would need to come up with a plan. Would he be waiting for you to return to your cottage?
Should you even attempt to return, or press on deeper in a desperate hope to reach another settlement? These thoughts were cut short at the snap of a twig somewhere in the distance. You whipped your head around to place the source….you couldn’t. The air was thick with tension, as though in some shadowy corner of the clearing there were eyes on you and any sudden movement would spur an attack.
Another snapping sound came from behind you. From the darkness emerged a creature like none you had ever seen before. Large scales formed thick jagged plates over the creature’s body. Three pointed horns jutted out from atop its head, elongating its already horrifying size. The creature craned its neck and opened its mouth - emitting a bombing roar.
A large bang rang out behind you just as the creature charged. You dropped to your knees and covered your head, bracing yourself for the inevitable when- it never came. When you glanced up, the creature was laid face down in the brush.
Just then a blunt object was pressed to your back while a leather boot stepped into your peripheral.
“Stand,” a voice said in a distinctly modulated voice.
You already knew who it belonged to.
“And if I don’t?” You shot back.
The Mandalorian stayed silent.
“I know you can’t touch me - I know that was the order that they gave. And if you don’t bring me in alive, then it’s you who will have a bounty on your head” you said, voice dripping with undeserved confidence considering the circumstances.
The Mandalorian issued the same command a little more forcefully this time “stand.”
You did not waver, “and if I don-”
Suddenly a sharp pain radiated through your back. You felt the air get snatched from your lungs as a flash of heat seemed to cut through you. The feeling stopped as quickly as it began. You
gasped and fell forward onto the soil, clutching your stomach.
‘He shocked me!’ You thought ‘that fucking bastard.”
“Stand,” he said again, voice as emotionless as ever.
You stayed on the ground until you felt the object dig into you again, a warning. You gave in.
Defeated, she pulled yourself from the forest floor shrugging off the throbbing pain radiating from your back.
As soon as you were on your feet, he spoke again “walk.”
You did as you were told, all the while trying to come up with a plan of escape.
“Did Balthar send you?” You asked.
When you were met with silence you pressed on, “how much did he pay you- because I am certain that I can match it, exceed it even.”
More silence.
You were growing more and more frustrated with each step forward. “I thought Mandalorians are supposed to be people of honor. How you can serve such a vile man is beyond comprehension….I am certain that your kind must be embarrassed by you. ”
Still nothing, you would need to find some means of getting information…..
The Mandalorian marched you past your cottage and around your settlement. You could see candle lights flickering in the windows behind woven curtains. You could scream, but you were worried about the fate of any resident who tried to help.
For three months you had lived in blissful anonymity. The escape had been orchestrated perfectly, so how was it he tracked you down? You raked your brain for any missteps you could have taken, but came up with nothing. You had been so careful. Now the residents would emerge from their sleep cycles to find your home abandoned. What would they think happened to you?
