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#the mandalorion
jeepersbxch · 11 months
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LOOK AT WHAT I FUCKING FOUND ON TWITTER
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ithebookhoarder · 1 year
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A Work in Progress (Din Djarin x Mechanic!Reader)
Summary: Working at Peli’s repair shop, you’d never expected to find yourself growing close to a customer - let alone a Mandalorian, of all people. Yet, somehow, with every visit you seem to be getting just a little closer to the mysterious man behind the Beskar...
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A/N: First of all, I love my Mando baby, and have been dying to write for him. So, thanks to the anon who sent me the message about Din being Demi-sexual. You really gave me the inspiration for this one. Also, I have to say, I totally agree with your head canon. Personally, I know what it feels like to have to have a close connection before you can even feel remotely attracted to someone. With Din’s beliefs and practises I feel he would need to feel connected before he could consider entering a relationship with you, let alone a physical one - but that’s just my opinion...
Warnings: N/A - but let me know if you think I missed any
Masterlist
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You’ve grown to know the Mandalorian quite well in the last couple of years; he’s a frequent customer at the junk yard and repair shop you work at, having returned multiple times since he’d first been forced to ask you for repairs. 
The Razor Crest was now a familiar ship and a smile always slid into place as soon as you saw it entering the atmosphere. Sure, you were instantly rewarded with Peli’s teasing, but you knew she meant no harm - if anything, she seemed to have a soft spot for the Mandalorian and the tiny green child he now towed about with him. 
Why else did she give him such a big discount? 
Why else did she always insist you prioritise him over any customers you already had waiting? 
Why else did she make sure you were the one to do the work - her ’best damn mechanic in the whole galaxy’ - when she could have done it herself? 
He would only get the best… which was probably why he always tipped the best too.
In fact, more than once, you’d been surprised by the purse of credits he’d place in your hand just before leaving, refusing to take it back no matter how much you protested. 
“Mando… This… this is too much.” 
“No,” he’d chuckle, “it’s the least you deserve.”
“But, it was a simple job-”
“Simple? Yes, but you did it well. You earned it, so keep the money. Please.” 
What else could you do but accept? It was just part of your odd relationship and the steady routine you’d fallen in to as time had gone by. 
Just like how he’d always make sure to talk to you when he was around, letting you ask questions about what he’d been up to since you’d last saw one another. 
Just like how he’d let you tend to his wounds, once or twice, after a hunt had gone a little awry and he was unable to do so for himself. 
Just like how he’d started bringing you little things from his trips to different planets, including the beaded necklace you never took off.  
It was all of these things that made him your favourite customer… that made you consider him more as a friend and a good one, at that. You were also pretty sure he felt the same. Otherwise, there were plenty other places he could have chosen to spend his time, but he chose to spend it with you. 
Today was one of those days. 
For some reason, Mando had managed to secure his bounty much earlier than expected and cashed in the reward he’d been chasing. As such, you weren’t quite finished with making sure his ship was safe to fly again. You’d thought you’d have a couple more days at least. 
He assured you there was no rush - he wasn’t desperate to leave the planet anytime soon - which was a relief. You hadn’t been ready to say goodbye just yet, nor had you had the ship ready for him either. 
Still, you were also kind of happy at the change in schedule, especially when it meant that Mando had decided to loiter next to you, watching as you finished your work. And, Maker above, did you love to having him there… even if it made butterflies erupt in your stomach. 
It didn’t matter that you couldn’t see his face, concealed as it was behind that helmet of his. You’d learned his mannerisms well enough to understand him through his body language and modulated voice-box. 
Like now, for example, the way his head tilted and seemed to track you as you dithered about the place told you he was studying you with great interest. You could even swear you heard the odd hum of approval… but that could also have been from the child, who was also watching you eagerly from his perch next to Peli’s office.  
“You know you can rewire this so it doesn’t blow so often.”
“Excuse me?”
“Yeah,” you chuckle, turning to stare at the Mandalorian, surprising him with your suggestion. You knew he was a capable mechanic in his own right, having made enough patch jobs over the years to see him through his travels. Still, you could tell he enjoyed listening to you and sharing your expertise. “Come here and I’ll show you. That way you won’t have to come in the next time it starts acting up… or force that sweet baby to climb inside the engine.”  
“O… ok - but I would argue it was only once.”
“Still! He’s a baby!”
The Mandalorian chuckled under his breath, and held his hands up in surrender. He knew better than to fight with you on something like this. “Alright, I get your point. It was a bad idea. You better show me how to do it myself then.”  
If you didn’t know better, you’d have said he almost sounded disappointed at the prospect of not needing to visit so often. However, he dutifully slotted into place next to you and began handing you tools when you asked for them, like you’d been working together your whole lives. 
You spent the rest of the day like that; passing tools between you and talking, feeling the tension grow every time yours hands brushed one another. Every time your gazes met. Every time you’d laugh at something the other said. 
It felt good… it felt, easy… it felt right - like something between you had clicked into place as easily as the machinery you’d been working on. 
If only you could understand it so well. 
Instead, your heart was in your mouth as darkness fell over the planet. For the first time since you’d met the Mandalorian, you actually felt nervous. You didn’t know why considering how well you knew one another by this point in your lives, but perhaps it was because you were supposed to be closing up the repair shop soon. 
It was now past closing time, if you were being honest, but you’d been having too much fun with Mando to even consider dismissing him for the night. Besides, Peli wasn’t even back yet to lock up and Mando was making no effort to try and leave. If he was still around it was because he wanted to be. 
Or so you told yourself as you tried not to blush for the hundredth time that day. It was just hard when his hand kept brushing against yours, and he was always somehow stood right next to you, despite having the whole garage to yourselves. The amount of times you kept turning around and bumping into him was getting comical now. 
“So,” he started, surprising you as he tore you from your frantic thoughts. “Don’t you have someone back at home to rush off to? I’m sure they’re probably wondering where you are.” 
“I uh… it’s still just me,” you answered quietly, surprised by the somewhat personal question. Sure, you often talked about personal things, things you never talked about with other customers, but his curious tone still caught you off guard. “No one to worry about me, thankfully. Means I can put in the extra hours here, given how busy we’ve been lately.” 
The Mandalorian hummed to himself. He didn’t say anything for a few minutes after, which was enough to make your nerves fray even more. Your hands were shaking so badly you practically dropped your tools as you tried to put them away neatly, back in their boxes. 
It was the heat of his eyes on you that made you feel light headed. What you wouldn’t give to know what was going on inside that helmet of his… 
“What about you? I know you have the kid now,” you replied hastily. “No one else in your crew to keep you two out of trouble?” 
“Uh, no. Just us two, still.” 
“Oh.”
Now it was your turn to fall silent as you tried not to read into the answer. Of course he didn’t have anyone given his private nature and slightly nomadic lifestyle. He’d only even taken Grogu on thanks to the failed bounty, rather than simply because he’d wanted company… even if you knew he was grateful for it nonetheless. 
“Can… can I ask you a question?”
You nodded. “Of course. Shoot.” 
“Do you … that is… dank ferrik, do you like me?” 
You blinked in surprise. You hadn’t expected that question. “Uh… of course, I do. Don’t you like me too?”
“Yes… but… I mean, not just as friends? or as a customer?” 
A small laugh escaped you as you realised he sounded every bit as nervous as you did. 
“Mando, you stopped being just a customer a long time ago. Ever since you brought me back those cookies from the market because you simply thought I looked hungry.” 
His warm laughter made your heart flutter. “I’m still sorry you only got to eat a few.”
“Who knew the little tyke had got so clever, huh?”
“That’s one word for it.” 
You couldn’t help but feel the paternal pride radiating off of the Mandalorian at the mention of his adopted son and his ever growing abilities. 
You could also feel the tension, building with every second his original question went unanswered. 
If you didn’t know better, you’d have sworn the bounty hunter was blushing, even beneath the beskar helmet that concealed the face you’d often dreamed about. 
As it was, he flexed his hands by his sides, as if trying to rid himself of his anxiety. 
“So, if I’m not just a customer then can I ask what that makes me?” 
He’d taken the words right from your mouth. 
Well, maybe you didn’t need words after all to communicate how you really felt about the man who had slowly stolen your heart piece by piece, with every visit... 
So, you took a deep breath. 
You stepped forward. 
To your relief, he didn’t flinch or step back from your advance - or shoot you point blank. 
No. Instead, his head titled and you heard him begin to try and ask you what was happening. 
“Y/n-“
He never got to finish the sentence. 
He was rendered speechless as you gently reached your oil stained hands up and rested them on either side of his helmet, holding him as if there wasn’t the layer between you both. 
You then rose swiftly on to your tiptoes, before pressing a kiss against where his forehead would be. 
The metal was cold under your lips. Yet, before you could worry that you’d somehow made an ass of yourself, his hands rose to rest delicately on your hips and pull you closer. 
His touch sent shivers through you, the feel of him holding you electric - even through the gloves. 
His head then tilted forward, so that the helmet was resting against your forehead instead, the gesture meaningful enough to make your heart skip a beat. 
“That uh… that answer your question for you?” 
A soft chuckle escaped him, causing you to release one of your own; it was all too surreal. 
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Here you were, in your garage, blushing like some school kid with their first crush, after kissing the customer you’d never even seen without his armour disguising him… yet you knew him. 
Or, at least you knew what was important to know about him - enough to know he was a good person. A kind person. And a lonely one… 
“I think that clears most of it up, yes,” the Mandalorian murmured. “And there was me thinking I was imagining things.”
“Imagining things?”
“Yes, like that you weren’t just being nice because you were working on my ship, for example. Or because Peli asked you to be.”
“Peli asks me to do a lot of things, Mando, and I don’t know how you haven’t noticed by now that I don’t always do them.” 
Your laughter was unanimous, and loud enough that you both almost missed the sound of footsteps echoing from beyond the doorway - followed by a broken cough.  
“So this is what you call working?” 
You froze. 
Both you and the Mandalorian suddenly leapt apart as if you’d been burned. 
Thankfully, the owner of the voice waited a few more seconds before entering the room, giving you ample time to act as if nothing out of the ordinary had been happening only seconds ago. 
"You're… you’re early, Peli,” you choke, trying not to die of embarrassment as your boss sauntered into the garage. The smile on her face was a smug one, as if she knew exactly what had been happening. “I thought you wouldn’t be back until later.” 
"Good thing I decided to swing by early or I might have walked in on you two doing something entirely different," she teased, raising an eyebrow at the sight. “I’m just glad - by the sounds of it - you finally got your heads out of your asses and made a move. The tension was getting unbearable.“
"Oh… right.” 
"Be gentle with them, alright? They're a gentle soul,” Peli stated simply, gesturing to you. “And my best mechanic. Just remember that, Mando. You break it, you buy it.” 
You and Din were in unison without even trying as you both suddenly turned. 
“Shut up, Peli.”
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No one:
Pedro Pascal: I am going to make this character the MOST father
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slutty-yoda · 1 year
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Sexiest Human Bracket: Spin-off edition R3
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obby98 · 1 year
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If Guillermo Del Toro ever has a movie made about his life, his older self should be played by Pedro Pascal.
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i don’t like the horny i want the stupid thanks
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mandofury · 2 years
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*Din and Cobb surrounded by bad guys*
Din: Don’t worry Cobb, I have a few knives up my sleeves.
Cobb: Think you mean cards partner.
Din: *taking out knives from under his sleeves* No, I don't.
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yoda-fucks · 1 year
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JOEL TEACHING ELLIE TO SHOOT
DIN TEACHING GROGU TO NAVIGATE
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magiclamd · 1 year
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Is she a bisexual villain now? What is happening here?
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How 2 make ur stori
1. Create angery tough man w/ dark and irredeemable past
2. Gib him smol child, pure and good. Also good at murder.
3. Inflict Community
4. Force him to continue onward and onward against time and all things he’s done because no matter how much he wants to die and rest and pay for his mistakes he has someone to take care of and love now and his life is no longer his own to give away and so he’ll keep going, no matter what.
5. Profit
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pedropascalsx · 2 years
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dancing is a dangerous game.
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Din Djarin x Reader (OFC - no descriptions of appearance)
Rating: Eventually will be Explicit.
Word Count: 2.7k
Summary: The Mandalorian has been tasked to collect a bounty. A young girl who’s father borrowed thousands of credits from bad men in her name. The sweet girl is unaware of her fathers antics and is now at risk of paying the punishment for his crimes with her life.
Warnings: Mentions of gambling.
Ongoing - chapter two.
(please let me know if you like it.)
The alley was piled high with trash, discarded and broken furniture. The stench flooded his helmet almost immediately and he had to fight the urge to gag as it lingered in his nostrils.
The tracking fob in his hand was flashing steadily, and for the first time in a while – he had managed to keep track of his bounty from the moment he left his ship. He paid a little more than he wanted and parked it in a hanger a little further out to ensure his kid would be safe. Usually, he’d bring him along, but he knew that it was safer to keep him locked away in his floating shield above his cot.
 The flashy lights of the city started to reflect of The Mandalorians’ shiny armour the moment he stepped out of the alley, the sounds of music flooding from streets from multiple bars and taverns. The streets were abuzz with chatter and excitement as people made their way to the casinos and drinking holes this shit hole was known for.
The Mandalorian was also on his way to a bar, but not for the same reason as the people surrounding him. He had seen Greef Karga a few days ago, and he’d been insistent that this job would be beneficial for The Mandalorian with a handsome amount of credits.
He ignored the whispers, the pointing and the stares from the strangers gossiping about his presence.
Scanning the area, he quickly saw the sign he was looking for - a gaudy neon arrow with the name of the bar flashing in multiple colours.
A loud sigh rolled through the voice modulator fitted in his helmet as he noted the long line of men waiting to get in and gawp at the ladies inside. It wasn’t a brothel. The signs in multiple dialects made that clear, these women were there to dance and that was it. They could look but officially they couldn’t touch. Of course, this wasn’t always the way, a few of the ladies would occasionally allow a quick grope for a smattering of credits if the client was wealthy enough but if this wasn’t agreed upon all hell would break lose.
He walked up to the two bouncers on the door and discreetly showed them the flashing fob in his hands and they simply stepped to the side. Assuming he was there for a patron and not wanting to get into a fight with a man twice their size, clearly armed and draped in beskar armour.
Loud music was being blasted from every corner of the large bar area, the room heaving with bodies. Raucous laughter and random chit-chattering made the Mandalorian growl under his breath, the unnecessary attempts at holding conversation in a bar playing music this loud – making him roll his eyes. He had a brief description of the person he was looking for; he knew for a fact she’d be here; she worked every night and Karga had assured him that she never allowed herself a day off.
He walked around scanning faces, searching through the crowd and chuckling to himself every time he noticed someone practically run for their lives when they spotted the bounty hunter.
Looking up at the ladies stood on their platforms, surrounded by jeering and slobbering men he grumbled and rolled his eyes again. The disgusting words being spewed at them started to make his skin crawl; how could these men speak to anyone like this he wondered quietly to himself.
A waitress tapped his arm and before she could finish asking him if he needed a drink, he shook his head at her and started to walk away, and that’s when he saw her. It had to be her.
Exactly as she had been described, she was there. But what he was expecting of her was completely different. She was tucked away in the farthest corner of the bar, and she was dancing like he had expected but it was worlds apart from anything else being showcased for the entertainment of lecherous men at this bar. She was fully covered in a beautiful silver dress. The material shimmering and reflecting the strobe light system, every moment made the dress appear a different colour and maker every movement was breath-taking.
He couldn’t quite understand why she was moving the way she was. The rest of the girls dancing in a similar fashion; thrusting their hips and shaking their curves to entice the men staring. But she was effortlessly gliding, stretching her body in the most mesmerising way, pirouetting and tiptoeing around to music that seemed almost unworthy of her talents.
He wasn’t sure how long he stood and stared for; he noticed the music change a few times, but he was anchored to the spot. Eyes continuously skimming her body and his brain trying to comprehend how she was able to move in such a way. It all seemed so wonderfully effortless to her.
A fight breaking out behind him, between a guard and a patron bought him out of the trance she had unknowingly put him in, and he was reminded of the shithole he was in, and again he couldn’t help but wonder how and why she was doing this here.
The crowd surrounding her was quieter, but she was clearly the most popular dancer by far. He could see the marks where the booths that had once been fitted had been hastily removed to allow more room for spectators.
He wasn’t sure how to go about getting her, he figured if he attempted to grab her off of the stage the patrons as well as security would attempt to engage in battle and as gifted a fighter he is, he didn’t fancy taking on that many people at once.
So, he simply waited. Cautious enough to stay far enough back so that she wouldn’t immediately clock eyes on him and attempt to dash, but close enough to see every single movement, the gentle flick of her wrists and every meticulous piece of footwork she delicately exhibited.
Eventually the waitresses started ringing the bells and signalling that they’d no longer be serving drinks and that all customers would need to exit as soon as their glasses had been drained. In the corner of his eye, he’d noticed that the girls we’re exiting their posts from left to right. About eight girls remained on stage, leaving a minute or so after each other.
He quickly exited the bar and scanned the area for the particular exit door that the dancers were leaving through, and it wasn’t before long that the first few emerged. He stood far enough back as not to alarm anyone and to make it seem like he was waiting for someone in particular.
A fit of giggles came from the exit door and before he had time to process it, she was stood a few feet away from him. Saying goodbye to a twi’lek girl that had been dancing a few podiums from hers.
The moment she was alone he cleared his throat loud enough for her to hear and stood to face her. He noted the look of bewilderment of her face as he placed the bounty puck in front of her that displayed her name and face. The look of bewilderment quickly changed to pure fear and panic.
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 You look up at the large figure looming over you covered in armour and yielding a bounty puck with your face being broadcast from it.
“I d-don’t understand,” you stutter breathlessly, “What?”
The Mandalorian scoffs and shakes his head, “I can bring you in warm,” he says, and you watch as he reaches down to touch the blaster attached to his hip, “Or I can bring you in cold.”
“I don’t want any trouble,” you choke out as tears instantly spring up to your eyes, “I just don’t understand.”
“Put out your hands.” he replies gruffly, and you comply instantly.
The tears in your eyes begin to fall as he cuffs your hands; you look around desperately hoping for someone to come to your aid and let them know that this can’t be right. That you’d never willingly do anything that would get yourself or anyone else into trouble, but you’re all alone. All alone except for the man cuffing your hands.
“Walk next to me, I wouldn’t recommend attempting to run… it wouldn’t end in your favour.”
Lifting your restrained hands, you attempt to wipe away some of the tears fogging up your vision, the stinging in your eyes worsening by the second. He walks you slowly out onto the street in which the entrance to the bar you work out is located and you look around sheepishly at all the people beginning to take notice. The shame rising in your stomach and spreading through you as your cheeks flush in embarrassment. You have no idea why this is happening, what you have allegedly done but these people stop and stare to automatically judge you and decide you guilty before knowing the truth.
You look over at the bounty hunter next to you just to see something other than their judgemental eyes that you keep finding yourself accidentally locking yours with.
He tilts his helmet towards an alley way, and you turn on your heel, feeling a sense of relief wash over you as you notice that its bare. No one down there to watch you in your most embarrassing and confusing moments.
“Who sent you?” You finally ask, voice barely breaking a whisper, “What are they saying I did?”
You look back over at him and he’s continuing to walk forward making no indication that he heard your question. You begin to ask again, and a loud sigh is breathed through his helmet, the filter making it louder than needed be.
“You made agreements to borrow large sums of credits from wealthy men,” he says with another sigh, “And then didn’t meet a single arrangement, not one! – no effort to pay any of them back. What did you think was going to happen?”
You stop. Your feet refusing to move as you try to make sense of what he’d just said, you hear him growl in annoyance as he turns to face you. Your face contorts and brows furrow in confusion, “I’ve never borrowed a single credit from anyone,” you voice wavers at the end of your sentence, “I don’t know what you’re taking about.”
The scoff and slight roll of his shoulders makes it clearly obvious that he doesn’t believe you. That he’d probably heard he’d got the wrong person for the millionth time, and you tense at the angry muttering beginning to flow from his helmet. Without another word to you he grips the back of one of your elbows and pushes you forward, giving you no choice but to pick up your feet and begin to walk again.
You walk silently for another ten minutes until you reach a parking bay, the tears had started streaming the moment you began walking again and the silent sobs lodged in your throat refusing to escape make you feel dizzy.
You can’t speak. You can’t audibly cry with you tears. You can’t do anything but walk and let the acid rainfall flood your cheeks. You pass a rodian child with what you assume is his father and suddenly things start to make sense. A rage lighting itself in the pit of your stomach.
Your father. The reason you’re working at that shit-hole bar. And now the reason you’re being loaded into a bounty hunters ship becomes crystal clear.
It started a few months after your mother passed, a few games of sabacc to keep his mind off of his grief. A few credits lost here or there, and then you noticed a few pieces of missing silver from the cabinets and before you knew it anything of value had disappeared from your home.
Your mothers’ wedding ring was the piece that stung the most. She left it to you. You kept it hidden from him the best you could, but he tore apart your room searching for it, and you knew the moment you walked in and saw the destruction he caused - that it was gone forever.
You thought it couldn’t possibly get worse until he’d began borrowing and stealing from anyone and anywhere. Then you were informed that his tab at one of the casinos was so high, that he’d bargained you for his life. The owner agreeing to allow you to work off his debt by dancing in that shithole he owned as well as multiple casinos - until the debt had been repaid – working four nights to pay off your fathers’ debts and earning 50% of what the other girls earn the other three nights you forced yourself to work, just so you could eat.
The Mandalorian walks slightly ahead of you as you approach his ship. It’s battered. But you say nothing as he lowers the ramp. He turns to face you again as you turn to look back at the place you’ve called home your entire life, he sighs and takes a step forward convinced you’d decided to try your luck and run for it.
But you take him by surprise. You look towards the ship and past him and then start to climb the ramp, you wait patiently at the top for him – listening to his loud footsteps as he approaches you.
You’ve heard of carbonite freezing chambers before, the stories making your stomach sick as you imagine being stuck inside – having heard that some people are left fully conscious whilst frozen, your chest starts to heave up and down as another flood of panic takes over you.
“D-does it hurt?” You splutter as you feel him standing behind you.
“Can’t imagine it feels good,” he says with a slight shrug, “You’re the last person I needed to collect, so it won’t be long. Only a day or so.”
A day or so. The words get stuck in your throat as you start to imagine what it’s going to feel like. How the cold is going to seep into your bones as you’re stuck lifeless but fully alive in a plaque of carbonite.
“My dad.” You choke out.
He scoffs for what feels like the 300th time tonight and you bite your lip, “It’s not my job to deliver messages or allow favours… speak to whoever you owe the credits to and see if they can let you contact him.” The annoyance thick in his words.
“No. I didn’t mean that… You have the right person, I mean, the credits… Likely to have been borrowed in my name or my life maybe… my life is probably what he’d promised if he didn’t pay it back… but that’s what happened. It’s obvious to me now… I just. I don’t want anyone to think I’m stupid enough to do borrow maker knows how many credits and assume I could get away with not paying it back.” You take a step towards the chamber accepting your fate, and then you feel him.
His gloved hand wrapping around your elbow once again… this time gently. This time without angry intent.
“Dank farrik,” he murmurs loudly, “If I allow you to sleep in the cockpit and don’t freeze you, will you make me regret that decision?” He asks the question with a growl.
You shake your head furiously, “No. No. Of course not. You can keep the cuffs on too, if you must.”
“Trust me, I will.” He grunts back.
He walks you back into the hull and orders you to stay back, and you do without question. You watch as he walks over to a small door and opens it – revealing a cot. He shields the view, and you hear a slight whoosh – he mumbles something unintelligible before you hear the tiny whoosh again. He abruptly closes the door again and leads you up the ladder.
You take a seat on the co-pilots chair, and he stands over you for a few moments before moving to the pilots chair.
“Go to sleep,” he orders as he punches in some co-ordinates, “Door is locked so if you try anything stupid, you’ll regret it.”
You nod again not sure what exactly you could try, hands being shackled in front of you and him being big enough to crush you like a bug. So you do as your told, you lean back slightly and try to let sleep take you before you’re forced to accept whatever cruel punishment is awaiting you for a crime you didn’t commit.
next chapter.
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atlasscrumpit · 1 year
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i love your yandere mando! could i req a yandere mandalorian who buys reader a necklace or something and they don’t wanna wear it so he forces them to? he likes seeing it on them idk?
Collar
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You stared down at the Mandalorian's hand that held a piece of jewellery in it.
It was a gorgeous piece of jewellery, but...you hated what it symbolised.
You'd gotten over trying to run away from Din, because you knew it was futile.
But, putting this necklace (that looked more like a collar) on would mean he owned you fully and it would show everyone he owned you.
"I-It's pretty." You muttered as he reached up and brushed the hair away from your neck.
You quickly jumped up and backed away from him.
"I don't want to wear it just yet." You muttered as he slowly stood up.
"Why?" He asked simply as you looked down at the ground.
"It just, it looks like a collar." You muttered, the mandalorian slowly coming forward.
"And what's wrong with that?" He asked, reaching up to run his gloved finger over your cheek.
"Because I don't want to be your pet. I've stopped running, I've given you that much, why do I have to give you more." You growled before he gripped your chin roughly.
"Little one, I'm going to give you two options." He whispered as you looked up at him, angry tears building in your eyes.
"You put it on now, or I force you to strip off all your clothes and only wear the collar for a while." He growled as you cried softly.
"Fine." You whispered before he let go, he reached up and brushed the hair away from your neck before securing the necklace/collar on your neck.
He pressed a finger to your cheek, collecting a tear onto his glove before he lifted his helmet up a little and lick the tear away.
"Good choice, little one."
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marvelthottie · 1 year
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Marvel Thottie’s Masterlist
Started 3/26/2023
Marvel
MoonKnight
 New Rules
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Final Part
New Set
Competitive Streak
Part 1 Part 2 Final Part
Floating
Sunflowers & Roses
The Mandalorian
Simple Life Pleasures
Part 1
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jarrussyndulla · 1 year
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din has a sexy voice bo katan has a sexy voice idc if they date each other i want them to talk me to sleep every night
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slutty-yoda · 1 year
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Sexiest Human Bracket: Spin-off edition R4
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PSA: the difference between Bix and Din was less than .5% and my dad said they should both move on because of that
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louiejoyce · 1 year
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Mixed bag.
www.louiejoyce.com
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