The Beskar Beast I (Din Djarin x Reader)
A Beauty and The Beast Retelling.
Summary: The Beskar Beast of Nevarro has been a legend that both protects and terrorizes the planet. A creature of the night, protected by his armor, requiring a blood sacrifice every two years to keep sated. There were plenty of women on Nevarro, and the odds of being chosen were slim- though, you supposed you ruined your chances when you accepted to take your sister's place as his offering.
After all, what better reason to die if not for love?
AN: It's here and the second chapter is already written, this my new obsession.
Warnings: Swearing and mild violence.
Every planet had their own legends and lore; some basted in a terrible history and some straight out of the babbling mouth of a child- but there were always stories.
You’d heard of fantastical beasts that fed on radiation, living beneath the earth of a distant planet. There were creatures that lingered in deep space, attacking pilots with haunting screams that rendered them paralyzed.
As far as mythological monsters went, you felt as though you were well versed in most.
But the Beskar Beast of Nevarro, the horror that plagued your own planet, you knew next to nothing about.
The armoured monster that required tithe and sacrifices in order to appease, the being that both protected your world and terrorised it through legend, he was nothing but a scary story in your bank of knowledge.
So when the Grand Magistrate, Greef Karga, called for the town to gather for the biennial draw, you were equally as scared as you were intrigued.
Your sister hissed from beside you as a particularly large Trandoshan barged into her, tossing the small woman into the disgruntled couple before them.
“You’d think there’d be a little less excitement and a lot more fear today,” she muttered, dusting imaginary lint from her shoulder. You raised a brow, humming in agreement.
Kalea was right. There was an electric buzz settling over the congregation of Nevarro, you could feel it licking up the length of your spine and forming a pit in your chest.
Every two years, the Magistrate would draw a name from a golden tray, an offering to the Beast- a human sacrifice. Every two years, a woman would die a violent, needless death in the name of superstition, whisked away to never be seen again.
You’d never been chosen in the years that you had come of age, a blessing that you didn’t take for granted, but this year anxiety closed your throat tightly.
Breathing didn’t come easy and you could hear the blood rushing through your ears as an eery reminder of what it would sound like spilling onto the floor.
“Ease up,” Kalea nudged you with a smarmy grin, “the chances of us being picked are near impossible.”
Nevarro was a haven for all those that lived there.
It was well protected, it was abundant in resources, the economy was booming and the trade was phenomenal. The crime rate was the lowest in the galaxy, (regarding populated planets), and you could live a comfortable life.
This was the debt owing for such luxuries.
And, of course, women were the ones paying it.
There was a hush over the crowd, a sudden silence so loud you could hear a pin drop.
“Good morning, citizens of Nevarro!” The Magistrate boomed joyfully, throwing his hands up in welcome.
Irritation pulled in your chest at the sheer arrogance of a man so entitled, so well protected, that he could smile in the face of another person’s death.
“Today is the day,” he nodded, a charming grin tugging at the corner of his lips. “Today, we offer a sacred gift, a gift so precious, that we humbly present to our Mandalorian protector.”
There was a gasp that rippled across the crowd, a shuffle of feet as people leaned away from the podium. You could almost hear the trepidly beating hearts of the women surrounding you over the awed crooning of men.
“What’s happening?” You murmured to your sister and she could only offer a shrug as you both strained to see over the crowd.
There was a brilliant flash of silver that had your heart leaping into your throat. Your fingers closed around your sisters wrist tightly as Mandalorian armour appeared within your vision.
The Beast was here.
He never came.
There was an unearthly stillness across the crowd as the monster approached the podium, slowly and carefully. He was huge, taller than life and impossibly broad, hidden behind a visor and impenetrable metal.
You’d never seen it before, never been in the presence of the Beast of Nevarro.
And you never wanted to be again.
“Shall we start?” The Magistrate looked the monster for approval, who scanned over the crowd slowly. You sunk behind the man in front of you, making yourself look as small as you possibly could. Finally, that terrible helmet inclined in a clear and concise nod, an antclimactic movement considering it signed the loss of someone’s life.
The Beast reached down, plucking an upside down piece of paper from the tray without so much as a second thought. There was no hesitation in the movement but for a second you thought you saw his hand waver when he handed it to the Magistrate to be read aloud.
The Magistrate cleared his throat with a grin, and then he spoke.
The words were a buzz, none of them holding the sound of your own name. The relief that ran through you was severe and overwhelming, rushing so fast through your chest that you felt like you could cry.
But it was short lived.
There was a terrible, wheezing gasp from beside you.
You turned to your sister, who stared ahead with an empty, trepid gaze.
The name that had been called was not yours, but it had been Kalea’s.
There were guards pushing between the both of you before she’d even had the chance to speak. They shoved you back, your body falling into the chest of someone who held you up with a kindness you could not acknowledge.
Kalea began to scream, just as you began to choke.
“No!” She rasped, struggling against the soldiers that held her tightly. “Please!”
You felt your feet move before you commanded them to.
“This strong young woman has the honor of offering herself to the Protector of Nevarro!” The Magistrate celebrated but the words were a distant murmur in the back of your mind. Your eyes were fixed on your sister, your chest was tight, there was water in your lungs and blood in your mouth and you couldn’t breathe. Nothing was right, this wasn’t right.
“No,” the word shook from your lips as you blindly stumbled towards the gap in the crowd. “No, no, no.”
She was all you had. She was your responsibility. She was your sister. She was your duty.
This couldn’t be happening. This couldn’t happen.
“No,” you wheezed louder, eyes fixated on her flailing body.
“Stop this!” You shouted, shoving one of the guards that held her. You don’t remember approaching them, you don’t remember crying, you only remembered Kalea’s fear fuelled wails and the promise you’d made to protect her.
It was an oath that you didn’t plan on breaking.
“This is an honor,” The Magistrate reinforced, staring down at you with a raised eyebrow. His gaze scanned the people gathered for a short moment, as if gaging their reactions.
“Liar!” You snarled, swiping at the guard again. This time the soldier turned to face you as the other wrestled your sister. Before you could react, he’d shoved you hard and the breath was knocked from your lungs. Your back hit the ground with enough force to blur your vision and the world around you went silent. You wheezed as you rolled onto your stomach, tears welling along your lashes. You couldn’t lay here, you needed to move. You needed to help her.
The best you could achieve was forcing yourself to your knees, keeled over and panting into the dirt. The crowd was silent, the Magistrate was silent, and strangely enough, Kalea was silent.
Brown, leather boots stopped within your line of sight and you felt your chest seize. The Beast said nothing, he didn’t prompt you to look up, he didn’t touch you, he simply stood there as though he belonged.
But he didn’t belong and you were surprised he hadn’t killed you already for your insolence.
Bile rose up into your throat and your lip trembled.
Finally, you forced yourself to slowly look up at the monster from your place on the floor.
Every ridge of his armour was purposeful, his cape was clean pressed, the beskar was polished and you couldn’t help but marvel at how pristine the creature was. The pit in your stomach reminded you that he intended to sully his clothes later with Kalea’s blood.
You finally stared into the visor of his helmet, knowing that the monster beneath was watching you right back.
“Please,” you begged death incarnate. “I’ll do anything.”
He said nothing and your skin prickled beneath his heavy gaze. You knelt before the Beast, hands gripping the sand and watching it slip through your fingers, just as your sister was. Tears wet the dirt as you pressed your forehead into the earth, sobbing through your teeth. “Please.”
“Take her place.”
You jolted, snapping your eyes up to meet his through the visor, “yes.”
His voice was nothing you had expected it to be, soft like a lover’s caress. You had just agreed to die in your sister’s stead but your mind was on anything but that. You felt as though you’d been poisoned, your thoughts lagged, your body was on fire and you couldn’t breathe.
“No!” Kalea screamed, writhing in the grip of Greef’s soldiers. “I’ll go! I’ll go!”
But the Beast was watching you now, head tilting slightly to the side as he appraised you. Your skin felt hot but your mind was numb. This was so much, this was too much. He was going to kill you, you hadn’t even stopped to think before you’d spoken, the word ‘yes’ falling from your lips with such ferver and desperation that you knew it had to have been the right answer.
“You would take her place?” The Beast asked, his voice a rasp that made your blood freeze in your veins. “You would be mine?”
“My life is yours,” your words were barely a whisper but he seemed to have heard them perfectly. Immediately he set into action, turning on his heel and gesturing at the guards.
Your body shook so hard you thought you might have been having a fit, tears tracked your cheeks and a cold dread dripped down the length of your spine. But, despite all, relief was still the strongest emotion you could identify.
Kalea was safe, your oath had been maintained.
“No!” Your sister screamed as the soldiers let go of her, they’d aquired a new target and it appeared to be you. You couldn’t stand in your condition regardless, you couldn’t run, you could barely breathe- but they didn’t care.
“Let me say goodbye,” you rasped as they heaved your body from the floor. “Please, let me say goodbye.”
“You are to be delivered to the Mandalorian immediately.” The guard spoke in a soft but stern voice, had you not been so disoriented you would have heard the sympathy in his words. Kalea wailed from her crumpled position on the floor, dirt marring her face and clothes. You felt almost numb to her pain, the panic subsided into an emptiness you couldn’t describe.
There was no struggle as you were thrown into the speeder and you didn’t fight when the vehicle began to move. It was done, the decision had been made. This was it.
You were paraded through the crowd like a prized trophy, the face of every woman solemn with relief and sorrow. You couldn’t blame them for the solace they found in your death, the consolation they took in your sacrifice. After all, that had been you in that crowd for years, watching the speeder drive on through and breathing easy as it left.
The Magistrate offered you a nod, that stupid, embellished grin nowhere to be seen now that the eyes of the town weren’t on him. They were on you. But you wouldn’t look at them anymore, you couldn’t bear the relief in their eyes. You couldn’t bear the sounds of their voices. You lowered your head into your hands, blocking out the noise of the crowd, the soft murmurs and the prayers.
You acted as though the world was silent.
You pretended you couldn’t hear Kalea, as she sobbed your name.
And when the speeder finally picked up pace, you didn’t turn to look at her one last time.
It was easier like this.
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Beautiful Unknown Words
Beauty and the Beast AU
Mando studying in the library, catching up on personal studies and you learn a bit about his culture.
Din Djarin/ the Mandalorian x f!Reader
Word Count: 2.7k
A/N: fluff, hehe kissing, words in Mando'a, Din in Phantom of the Opera type clothing (I go feral for this style on men), speaking in Mando'a. I made this inspired by if Din was the Beast from Beauty and the Beast and now my friend wants me to write a whole ass fic about it so... We'll see 😏
Your footsteps echo through the halls as you make your way to the library, pushing the giant door open slowly and wincing when the old wood creaks loudly.
You've been looking for Mando for ages, making your daily rounds around the castle as you search for him. The library was your last idea as to where he could be.
He does this sometimes... Disappears without saying anything or giving any clue to his whereabouts. It's as if he trusts you now... which he does, but he's refusing to admit it. The Mandalorian trusts that you won't run away from him. In fact, the idea of it doesn't cross his mind as much as it should, especially since you're technically being held here against your will.
No, Mando was content with your presence in his once-empty castle. What had once been a ginormous husk of what his life once was, the castle now seemed to glow softly whenever you entered the room. He had to rip his stare away whenever he caught himself, returning to whatever he had been doing before your arrival.
You let out a small huff of air as you push the door to the library open even further, peeking inside and giving it a quick scan.
You can hear the rustling of papers in the distance, as well as the scratch of pen against parchment, so you take a tentative step into the room.
Slowly closing the door behind you, you start to walk across the wooden floorboards as quietly as you can, wincing when they creak under your weight.
The rustling of papers seem to pause for a moment, as if he had heard you but wasn't sure if he was hearing things. And then it resumed, scribbling faster than he was before.
Peeking around a bookshelf, you watch the Mandalorian sitting at the large table that stretched down the aisle. Papers are strewn about, covered in scratches of writing. Books are laid out and open as well, tabs decorating the pages with his notes.
He's paused in his writing, staring at a page in the book in front of him with a look of fierce concentration. Dark brown curls hung over his face as he hunched over it, observing the words written with great interest. His brows are knitted together as his dark eyes scan the pages. The man taps his pencil against his lip, along his tamed mustache, while a small frown of focus pulls at his lips.
Leaning against the bookshelf, your eyes seen to devour him as he reads. The sleeves of his ruffled shirt are rolled up to his elbows, careful not to get ink or markings on his clothing. The Mandalorian lowers his pencil from its position against his lip, scribbling something into the margins of the book in front of him.
He's in such a focused state, you're worried you're going to give him a scare if you move or say anything. You don't see him without his armor alot, and he's normally jumpier when he's without it.
How do I get his attention without scaring him?
Mando startles, as you knew he would, his pencil leaving a stray mark on one of the pieces of parchment. His dark eyes fly up to meet yours in a panic, but they seem to settle back into calm once he's registered your presence.
"Did you have to sneak up on me?" Mando chastises, shaking his head in exasperation.
"I literally called your name multiple times," you smirk, making your way over to his side and peering down at the papers. "So, I'll repeat my question... Whatcha doin?"
"I'm..." You swear the slightest shade of red appears in his face. "I'm studying."
"Everything... Anything..." Mando brushes the curls out of his face, leaning back in his chair as he looks up at you.
"Yes, but what specifically at this time?" you tease.
"Language. And culture."
"My... You are interested, aren't you?" His head cocks to the side, just as he always does whenever he wears the helmet, and you can feel a blush starting to spread over your face.
"I... I just... You were so invested and..." You fall silent, fiddling with a strand of your hair as a nervous habit. "... I'm sorry for interrupting you."
You're expecting him to be angry, just as he used to be when you had first arrived to his home.
But he just smiles, gesturing to the chair to his right with a nod of his head.
"Would you care to join me, cyar'ika?"
"Really?" You brighten at his invitation and the nickname, glancing at the chair as you let go of your strand of hair. He still hasn't told me what that means...
"Of course. Go ahead and choose anything," he says warmly, motioning to the endless bookshelves that surround him.
"Oh... Okay!" You spin around, heading further into the library as you make a beeline for your desired read.
"Oh..." Mando watches as you go, leaning forward to see you disappear behind the shelves. He chuckles, shaking his head in amusement at your quick departure and excitement.
You slide down an aisle, your boots skidding on the wooden floor as you slide to a halt in front of a beautiful display of bookspines. Your fingers trace the edges, murmuring the titles to yourself as you pick through. Beaming as you snatch up a book, you start to make your way back to Mando in a hurry, but skid to a halt when your eyes glance over a particular section of the library.
You stand in between the aisles, staring at the rows and rows of books before slowly walking into one section. Your interest has spiked, and your eyes devour the varying names of languages and sentences written in different culture.
You pull the title from the shelf carefully, admiring it's worn leather cover, and start to flip through it as you walk back to Mando. The cover and pages are worn with time and use. Mando must've spent much time flipping through it in his studies, and you can even see some of his scribbles in the margins as you flip through.
Some were new, dark and bold, while others were faded and blurred from time and the rubbing of pages.
Settling down in the seat next to Mando, you set the books in a neat stack in front of you and start to flip through the first book you had grabbed off the shelf.
He looks up from his work, brushing specks off of his papers. His eyes sparkle with interest as he tilts his head to try to read the spines of the books you've chosen. You pull them closer to you, smirking as you tease him.
"Hey, they're my books," he muses, to which you chuckle and look back at your book. "What'd you choose?"
"Well, I snagged Romeo and Juliet..."
"Romance," Mando scoffs, shaking his head.
"Hey! Give it a chance!"
"I'm not surprised that's what you chose," he snorts, looking back down at his work.
"I'm sorry?!" you cock your head, slightly offended by his remark.
"Well, all the heartache and... pining... and .... ugh..." Mando makes a face, mimicking a shiver running through his body.
"Rude," you frown. "It's a lot more than that, you know."
"I'm scared that if we continue down this conversation that I'll end up with a broken nose," Mando smirks, gesturing to the other book. "What else did you get?"
"Oh..." You set aside the romance novel, running your hand over the beautiful cover of the other book in your selection. "Mando'a."
The Mandalorian seems to freeze, his eyes flicking back and forth from the cover of the book to you. A mixture of confusion and surprise clouds his dark eyes, and eventually they train on you with an intense stare.
"Why... Why did you choose that?" he says hoarsely, clearing his throat.
"Well..." you sigh with a small smile. "You're always mumbling in the language and I never know what you're saying... And... well, it's your native language, right?... So, I wanted to learn."
Mando just stares at you, his mouth slightly ajar as he processes your words.
"You..." Your brow knits together in concern. "You okay?"
"Yes..." Mando shakes himself out of his stare, nervously glancing back at his work and flipping through the pages.
"Hm," you murmur, not believing him. "Okay." And you open the book on Mando'a, skimming the definitions and the pronunciations of certain words. You're too nervous to try to say them out loud, so you make a mental note to take the book back to your chambers later on.
Minutes tick by of you skimming the pages. Bits and pieces of Mandalorian culture litters the pages of the book, adding emphasis and explanation to certain words and phrases. There are even illustrations: one of a giant beast that was labeled as a mythosoar, and another of a hooded being wielding a blade made of light.
You scan the page, intrigued by the weapon in the hooded person's hand, but Mando's constant glances your way is becoming very distracting.
You glance up to meet his eye, but Mando quickly looks away and back to his work, flipping a page to appear busy. Chuckling under your breath, you continue to read, observing the details in the art.
Multiple pages were dedicated to these... jetiise, and you eagerly started to read. The book depicted the warriors to have magical powers, and that there were multiple conflicts that occurred between the Mandalorians and the "Jedi". A war between the two groups inspired the arsenal of Mandalorian armor and weapons that could combat the Jedis' weapons of light and power.
You turn the page, eyes widening at the image that lays there. A man, dressed in darkness and armor and crimson, stood over a group of Jedi with a pointed staff in his hand. Words written in Mando'an symbols decorate the page, except for one phrase.
Mandalore the Great.
"That book holds the history of my people, as well as our language."
Mando's words startle you from your intense concentration, and you look up at him in shock.
He's watching the way you've hunched over the book with your chin in your palm as you read.
"It's been kept in this castle for many years... And is one of the last of it's kind," he says softly, eyes flicking to the etchings of symbols into the paper.
"Does it have the whole history?" you murmur, looking back down at the drawings of men and women in armor.
"No," Mando frowns. "No, it doesn't. My people are very few now. We were massacred."
"Oh.. oh, I'm so sorry," you whisper, looking up at him sadly. Guilt claws at your chest and you start to close the book. "And here I am... Reading about them and... I'm so sorry, Mando, I-"
"It's okay." Mando rests his hand over your own, and you stare at it as red colors your cheeks. "You didn't know... And it was a very long time ago. You have every right to read that." He shrugs. "And besides, it'll be interesting to see you try to speak Mando'a."
"Is that a challenge?" you tease with narrowed eyes. "You think I can't do it?"
"No," Mando chuckles, shaking his head as he closes his books and rises from his chair. "I do, cyar'ika. I just know it'll be entertaining to watch as you learn."
He puts his books under his arm, making his way around the table as he departs. "Have fun, mesh'la," Mando says warmly, offering you a smile that makes his eyes sparkle as he turns to leave the library.
You feel frozen as he leaves, his smile and words shaking you to your core.
Maker, I need to know what he's saying.
You glance back down at the book, flipping through it to find what you're looking for.
The words he had just uttered stand out to you from a page on names and other random phrases, and you trace them with your finger as you search for the terms you desire to know.
"Cyar'ika..." you murmur to yourself. "Cyar'ika... is that spelled with a c? I'm not-"
You pause when you see it.
"Cyar'ika... used for endearment and care... Direct translation..."
You blink, reading it one more time.
"Darling... or... sweetheart." The words leave your lips breathlessly as you read it over and over again.
You rip through the pages, looking for the other word that Mando has used so warmly upon his departure.
Your eyes start to water as you read the meaning, glancing up to stare at where Mando had disappeared. Shoving back your chair, you sprint for the door, not even processing what you're doing as you move. Your boots echo through the halls as you fly out of the doors of the library, skidding to a halt for a moment as you glance around to find Mando.
For the past few of months that you've lived in this castle, you've found yourself growing fond of the damaged Mandalorian, slowly understanding that his initial harshness was out of habit from his twisted past and not because of you.
And that fondness has grown into feelings... Feelings that you can't even begin to describe. Feelings you've never felt before.
Everytime you merely thought of him, warmth would flood your body. Everytime he spoke your name, you could feel yourself start to blush. Whenever his hand brushed over your own, or moved to stand close, you had to fight the urge to take his hand into your own or pull him into an embrace.
You had tried to shove it away, telling yourself that there's no way that you could love this man... He was a warrior... stone-hearted... Someone who kept his heart locked away inside a cage of ribs just as he's kept himself locked in this castle.
But now... After what he's just said... You can't deny it any longer.
"Mando!" You cry out when you see him down the hall, and he turns to look at you with an expression of confusion and surprise as your hurried footsteps echo through the halls.
You must look insane. Your hair whipping behind you and your dress doing the same.
"What are you-"
His words are interrupted when you ram into him, grabbing his face with your hands and bringing your lips to his.
His body freezes, and you can hear the thud of books hitting the floor as he drops them in shock.
Your heart starts to falter as he just stands there, and you start to pull away.
His arms wrap around your waist, pulling you closer as he returns the kiss. You can't help but sigh as Mando kisses you with both passion and tenderness. His hand travels up to hold your face while his other arm holds you against him tightly. You gasp when he deepens the kiss, his hand traveling to the nape of your neck as he groans your name against your lips.
Your own hands travel from his face to his hair, pulling him close so that there's no space between you.
You break away to breathe, resting your forehead against his as your heaving chests remained pressed together.
"You..." You're fighting to say your words without sounding like a fish gulping for air. "You called me... mesh'la."
"Yes," Mando whispers, his dark eyes shining. He sounds just as breathless as you and he leans in to press another soft kiss against your lips.
"Mesh'la... and... cyar'ika..."
"Maker, I love hearing you speak Mando'a," Mando breathes, his voice full of emotion.
"Did you mean it? Did you mean it, Mando?"
"Yes. Every word." His calloused hand caresses your cheek, the pad of his thumb tracing your cheek bone. "And my name is Din."
"... Din." You blink up at him, processing what's happening.
"Yes, cyar'ika," Din chuckles, his dark curls falling into his eyes. "Din."
"... Hi, Din..." you whisper, almost timidly.
"Hello, my dear... so, I take it that book paid off," Din teases, eyes sparkling.
"I'm afraid it did," you giggle, pressing another kiss to his lips. "I must learn more."
"I can teach you, if you'd like..."
"Din... I want to stay... Here... With you, in the castle..." you whisper nervously.
A giant smile decorates his face as he swoops down to kiss you again, taking your breath away.
"I want nothing more, mesh'la."