#my ramm gifs | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

astralisbelle · 11 months

Text

Silk For Armor 2 - An Offer He Cannot Refuse

Silk For Armor Masterlist tags: dancer!reader, singer!reader, reader has backstory, s3 not canon, diverges around TBOBF, half fix-it fic, half super self-indulgence, original locations and lore, eventual reveal of reader backstory, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, eventual smut

chapter summary: The Mandalorian receives a strange request. He begins to suspect that there is more to this job and dancer than meets the eye. WARNINGS: attempted assault, attempted SA, coercion, major violence

note: WHEW It's been a while since I uploaded. I'm so excited to share this very long chapter with you all but PLEASE PLEASE mind the warnings. Thanks!!

“Kidnap me.”

The Mandalorian jerks himself back, startled by the bold request. The wording also throws him off, but that’s the least of his worries right now. “E...Excuse me?”

“Kidnap me!” she echoes. “Please. You have to take me away and take me away soon.” She clasps her hands in front of her chest, a burning desperation in her eyes.

“Why?”

“Kaslur. He’s… getting impatient.”

“Impatient for what?” She drags her gaze away, looking at the floor. Din’s eyes widen behind his visor. “What… is going to happen to you?”

She shakes her head. “I’m not entirely sure, but Kaslur has been begging me to quit dancing to go live with him. We’ve been playing this game for years, but the fuse is wearing thin.” As the realization sinks in for him, he thinks about how a girl like her has little options in a place like this. No one can help her. No one would, lest they wanted to incur the wrath of a crime lord, himself included.

“And if I do? He’d come after me. Might even chase you to the ends of the galaxy.”

The dancer pouts. “I… I-I’ll help you. Or, when you take me back home, I’ll make sure you’re properly compensated.”

“Home?” He thought someone like her was out of place here. “And where is home?”

She straightens her posture. “...I will tell you if you agree to this.”

“Now’s not the time to be keeping secrets.”

“If you knew my secrets, then you’d know why I keep them.”

He stares at her, scrutinizes every bit of her. How confusing this dancer is… She carries herself with a certain grace that only performers of her caliber are capable of. Her manner of speaking is eloquent. Yet, there is a certain spark in her eyes that wouldn’t be found on anyone else on this planet, not after its corruption takes hold. Beneath the humble clothes, behind the extensive makeup and costumes, there is someone who clearly needs his help.

“...I don’t know,” he says with a sigh. “I can’t make any guarantees.”

“In that case, I’ll sweeten the deal.” She smiles with confidence. “Let me help you on this job that Kaslur has for you.”

“And how would you help?” She doesn’t look like a fighter, but this girl is full of surprises.

“First of all, you’re new to this planet, aren’t you? Tebin Ramm operates a certain way and I can help you navigate through the channels. Second of all.” She glances around. “You need a place to stay the night where you can actually get some sleep, right? Unfortunately, most of these hotels charge by the hour if you understand my meaning.” He nods. “I have a flat above the theater. It’s… cozy. And since it’s my place, it’s technically protected.”

Din holds up his hand. “Won’t Kaslur object?”

“What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.” She reaches into a pocket and pulls out something small, popping off the cap and twisting the bottom. Before he asks what it is, she presses the red wax to her lips and applies it, bringing out the color of her skin. Then, she rubs some of it on her fingers. “Give me your arm.”

“W-Why?”

“You just walked into a working hotel. It’d be strange if you didn’t come out with marks.” She holds out her hand. “C’mon, it washes off easy with just some water and it’ll cover our tracks.” Mostly hers, he’s guessing. With a sigh, he gives her his arm. The dancer smudges the cosmetic onto his beskar then makes another smear on his chest. “And now…” She steps forward. “For the final touches.” She closes her eyes and plants a quick kiss on his chest armor, leaving a red mark. Din is about to stumble back, but she leans up on the tips of her toes and catches him, kissing the bottom of his visor.

“H-Hey!” He lifts a hand to wipe it off, but she shouts.

“Don’t! Not until you get to my place.”

Din groans, his hand finding it hard to leave all those marks in place. “I look ridiculous.”

“So does everyone else on this forsaken planet.” She glances back at a clock on the stand. “We’re almost out of time. You leave first. Tell no one I was here. When Kaslur’s men have ditched the front door, just enter the theater and I’ll take you to my place.” With that, she pulls the hood of her cloak over her head. “I’ll go now. You wait ten minutes, then go back to the theater.”

“...Fine.”

Din can’t remember the last time someone got that close to him and lived. The last — and only — person to touch his face was Grogu. Each time he thinks of his companion, his heart yearns. Though, he is thankful that Grogu does not have to see any of this planet. As he walks back to the theater, escorts and bystanders call out the marks, flushing red to his cheeks. This better work as an alibi.

He returns to the theater, finding that it has emptied itself of gangsters for the time being. Workers wipe down the tables and stage and when the last of them has gone, the dancer reappears. She takes him around the back and up the stairs into a loft that overlooks the entire red-light district. It’s a humble apartment, but it is kept tidy and clean. “Are you hungry?” she asks, putting her cloak on a coat rack.

“I am. But I cannot eat with you.”

“I know.” She points to a covered plate on the counter. “I warmed up some soup for you. I’m going to change, so I’ll close the door. Knock when it’s okay to come out?”

This girl… she has everything so perfectly planned out. From the meeting, to taking him in, right down to his food. Din stares at her for a moment. Who is this woman? And what is she doing in a shithole like this?

“...Sure,” he replies. He watches her go into the bedroom and waits a few seconds to confirm that she is gone before walking over to the covered plate. Sitting at the counter, he hesitates, but he takes off his helmet finally and sets it next to him. Steam touches his face from the noodle soup, its salty scent wetting his tongue. He isn’t polite about practically inhaling it, shoving large wads of noodle and beef into his mouth and swallowing the broth. Din eats fast, as usual. When he finishes and cleans his face, he puts his helmet back on and puts the dishes in the sink, noting its cleanliness as well. He wanders to the room and knocks.

“Come in!”

Come in? That throws him off. He opens the door and walks in. There is a single, rickety bed inside the room along with at least two different dressers. Various dancing costumes hang about with special accessories. Her room is a flourish of color that distracts him momentarily from the sight. She reaches for the top of one of her dressers to place a jewelry box back in place, her short robe showing off those shapely legs that he spotted earlier. When Din catches himself staring, he mentally berates himself and looks away. “How was dinner?” she asks, turning back around.

“D-Delicious. Thank you.”

She nods, her hands resting on her hips. “Alright, well, I know this is kind of a mess.” She laughs, looking around her room. “But, I made the bed for you. Talk to you tomorrow.” Just before she can leave, Din holds out his arm, blocking her from the door.

“I’m sleeping in here?”

“Yes, but don’t worry, I have a couch.” She tries to go; he stops her again, this time by holding her arm. The dancer tenses.

“You’re going through an awful lot of trouble for me.”

She lifts her chin. “Because I hope that you’ll do the same for me.” Kidnap me. “It’ll be dawn soon, Mandalorian. Please, get some rest. The sooner we find Kaslur’s man, the sooner we can both get off this awful planet.”

“I haven’t entirely agreed to take you.”

She grins. “Then I have a whole day to convince you.” She lifts her hand, thumb swiping some lipstick off his helmet. Shit, he forgot that was there. “Red’s a good color on you.” He lets her go immediately and she leaves the bedroom all to him. Now, Din is alone with her bed and her army of costumes surrounding him. As he removes his armor to clean off the makeup, he takes in the sight of every piece. Some outfits are… more revealing than others. He recognizes the one she wore earlier and then his eyes wander to some of the accessories: fans, feathers, all sorts of fun things. Din wonders how she uses them.

Just before he settles into bed, he has half a mind to look around. This woman is more than dancer, that much he can surmise, but to what extent? He’s curious, but he knows better than to violate her privacy, especially when she has been so considerate of his. When he settles into bed, her scent assaults him: clean and flowery. It oddly calms him and lulls him to sleep fast.

“So, who is the unlucky fellow?” she asks, sitting at the counter and eating a piece of bread. Din remains standing and slides the puck towards her, turning it on. Her brows lift in recognition of the Weequay. “Huh, that’s Mazarg Eq.”

“You know him?”

“Used to be an enforcer for Kaslur a few years back. Last I heard, Kaslur caught him in one of the spice dens, getting high on the boss’s supply. He’s not dead? That’s… lucky?”

“Kaslur mentioned something about him having a necklace.”

“A necklace?” She strokes her chin. “Don’t know anything about that. But, if I were Eq, I’d likely still be hooked on spice. Unfortunately. But I can’t get high at any of the dens that are supplied by Kaslur. So… I’d have to go to a rival’s supplied den. You know, for sanctuary.” Din slowly turns his head so the T of his visor faces her directly, as if asking how in the hell she ascertained that. The dancer shrugs. “That’s just the way things are around here.”

“...It would make sense. Also, if that’s true, then that’s the reason why Kaslur can’t send any of his own men. He’d start a turf war.” Din stands up, swiping the puck off the table and sliding it into his belt. “Would you know where these rival dens are?”

“I would.” She stands too, grabbing her cloak. “It’s not gonna be pretty.”

Once again, she is correct. Din’s throat tightens as she leads him through the district. Nearly everyone he sees is either stumbling, passed out, or expelling some body fluid in some way right in the street. No one seems to care. But, when he comes in, shiny expensive beskar on his chest, the junkies take notice. They lick their chapped lips, gaze with blood-shot eyes and fantasize about how much spice they can get with just a scrap of his armor.

Din is ready for someone to try to take it, but he hopes his imposing walk will hold them off.

He glances towards the dancer, her hood up as she stays close to him. “You being spotted here won’t be a problem, will it?” he asks.

“Technically, no. I’m not affiliated with anyone. That being said…” She scans the area. “I’d rather Kaslur not find out I was here.” She taps his shoulder. “In here.” He follows her into an alleyway with a single door, a faded neon sign blinking on and off above it. As soon as the door slides open, the foul stench of spice assaults his senses, even behind his helmet.

Smoke fills the den and makes it so hard to see that Din adjusts his visor to seek out heat instead. He sees red and orange shapes lounging on couches, taking long drags from pipes, and draping on other people. He prays that Eq is here, because he doesn’t want to comb through another one of these.

A Twi’lek man approaches them. “You gotta pay up before you take a seat.”

“We’re not here for spice,” she says. “We’re looking for Mazarg Eq.”

The Twi’lek flashes a look at the Mandalorian then back at the dancer. “And who is looking for him?”

“A friend,” she responds. She tilts her head up, giving the Twi’lek a glimpse of her face. “I know how this works.” She folds her hands together in front of her. “We need an address. How much?”

He grins. “...How about some of that beskar?”

Din leers at him. “Try again.”

She steps forward. “You deal with me, not the Mandalorian.”

“I don’t know what you can offer me, sweetheart.”

The dancer closes the gap between them, leaning in. “Tell you what.” She holds him close. “If you stop by…” She whispers, giggling and drawing shapes on his chest. The Twi’lek’s eyes bulge as she sweet talks him, ending her offer with a kiss on his cheek. She steps back with a polite smile. Without another moment to lose, the Twi’lek blurts out an address that Din commits to memory.

“Thanks… sweetheart.” She blows him a kiss. “Tomorrow right, remember.”

And with that, they leave. Once they’re out of the den, Din turns to her. “What did you offer that man?”

“You don’t want to know.”

“...You’re not seriously going to do it.”

She laughs. “We’ll be on a Razor Crest tomorrow night already in Hyperspace. C’mon, let’s go find our guy!”

One of the benefits of his helmet is being able to scope and scan any person of his choosing with discretion. Din sneaks in a few glances at the dancer as she walks with her hands behind her back. She hums, reminding him of the powerful vocals she displayed the other night. She is remarkably odd in a place like this. She is so… normal. Her demeanor, her manner of speaking doesn’t fit in with the rest of the people on Tebin Ramm.

Din wants to ask about her, but he isn’t curious enough to actually open his mouth. In fact, he knows it’s for the better. He’ll get her off this planet and drop her somewhere and that will be the end of that. Everyone that entered his late Razor Crest had their own stories — some he knew, some he didn’t, but most of the time, he didn’t care what they were. The dancer will simply be the girl that helped him get his ship.

Daylight does not last long on Tebin Ramm and the veil of space is nearly done creeping over their heads. Not that anyone can see any of the stars through the pollution. They wander further from the city’s center, finding crumbling buildings and tiny shacks for housing. The air is deathly still, but the stench of bodily fluids and trash wrinkle their noses. She pulls the collar of her cloak up to cover up her lower face.

“Stay close,” Din says, his hand hovering over his blaster, ready to draw.

“You don’t have to tell me twice.” She walks closer, their shoulders brushing against each other. They close in on the address given to them, standing before a tall building with cracks along its walls and broken signage. “He must be squatting here.”

“C’mon.” This shouldn’t be hard. When he first began bounty hunting, Din felt pity for the easy targets. That changed when every target became easy. They entered and went up the stairs, passing by bodies (asleep or dead?) sprawled on the floors and against the walls. He feels her hand cling to his cape. Din doesn’t wait anymore and he draws his blaster as they creep towards the marked door. “Stay here,” he says to her at the end of the hall. She nods.

The Mandalorian takes a few hunkering footsteps towards the door. Before he knocks, he gives it a nudge to see if it’s open. It is. He inhales fast and kicks it open, brandishing his blaster. On the floor, a Weequay yelps in surprise and stares at the tall mass of silver beskar in front of him. He scrambles backwards until he hits the wall. “Mazarg Eq?”

“Wh-who’s askin’?” The Mandalorian says nothing. Instead, he pulls out the puck and clicks the button, showing Eq’s face. “Aw shit… who hired you?” he asks between hyperventilating breaths.

“None of your concern.”

“It was that fucking prick Kaslur, wasn’t it?” he asks, voice panicked. “Shit, sending a fucking Mandalorian after me.”

Din continues, voice cool and collected. “You’ve got a necklace. Or did you hock that for spice?”

Eq laughs, body trembling. “Oh, that’s what you’re after! Look, if I hand it over, will you leave me alone?”

Din’s pulled this trick before. “Where is it?” Eq wobbles as he crawls a few feet away to where Din sees a crowbar. He’s ready for Eq to swing it at him, but to his surprise, the Weequay uses it on the floor instead, prying open the floorboards. Inside a secret compartment are a few credit chits, a handful of spice bags, and a black box. Eq crawls back to the Mandalorian, presenting the box to him. “Take it. If it gets Kaslur off my back, just take it!”

He holsters the blaster, giving the Weequay a false sense of security. Din takes the box and opens it. His brows furrow at the contents. It doesn’t look like a necklace, it looks like a small, metal collar with a small crystal charm. Kaslur described it as having the finest jewels… was that a lie? He goes to the door-frame and beckons the dancer over. “Necklace.”

She takes the box and looks down, peering at it. “Really? This? But it’s so… simple…” Shrugging, she closes the box. “Get Eq. We’re almost done. You go to Kaslur, I go home and grab my things.”

“You think it’ll be that easy?”

“Been thinking about it the entire way.” She smiles and steps back. “Do your thing.” Once she is a safe enough distance away, Din looks back inside.

“So… is that it? You said you’d leave me alone, right?”

The Mandalorian stalks forward. “Never did.”

Din drags Eq’s unconscious body through the halls and down the stairs. Kaslur would give him more credits if he brought him in alive, and fuel isn’t any cheaper these days. The dancer carries the black box for him for now, but something in his gut tells him that there is more to that “necklace.” He can’t worry now.

Soon, he tells himself. Soon, a new Razor Crest. Soon, off this awful planet.

The dancer opens the door to the outside and freezes. She gasps, finding a crescent of mobsters surrounding the exit. Din keeps a calm head, already running his eyes over their blasters and conjuring strategies if they cannot talk their way out of this. But then he sees Kaslur there in the center, tall and wide. He claps slowly, an unfriendly grin on his face. “Well done, Mandalorian. Well done. Though, you can’t take all the credit for this job, can you?” His eyes gloss over to the dancer’s, an uneasy stillness within them. All Kaslur has to do is gesture with his head and two mobsters dart forward. One yanks the black box away from her while the other grabs her arm.

“Hey!”

“Stop!” says Din. “Don’t punish her. I’m the one that needed her help.”

“Punish? My precious doll?” The mobster drags her over to Kaslur. “She helped you. Which meant she helped me.” He turns to her, stroking her cheek. “And I know the perfect reward. Mando, hand over Eq.” The Mandalorian hesitates, eyes flicking towards her. She nods. He steps forward and shoves the Weequay forward who barely registers what is going on. Another two thugs hold him up by his arms while Kaslur opens the black box. “Don’t you love it?” he says, presenting it to her.

She bites her bottom lip. “It… is very lovely.”

“I know it’s simple. But I went through a lot of trouble to acquire this for you, darling. You want to see what it does?” She remains silent, eyes flashing to the Mandalorian. Kaslur takes the choker and walks up to the moaning, half-awake Eq and clips it around his neck. “Hm. It doesn’t look as great on him as it will on you, my dearest. But you see, this collar is made of kyber crystal.” Her eyes widen and her skin pales. Kyber? Din thinks. “And I have its sister right here.” Kaslur presents a small bracelet around his fat wrist. “And with a touch of a button… it can do this.” He presses it.

It happens in the matter of seconds. Eq’s head falls clean off and topples to the ground as the inside of the choker fills with a hazy white light. It too falls to the ground, having cleanly sliced the flesh it wrapped around. She lets out a horrified shriek and Din knows that he cannot let this go on a second longer. He brandishes his blaster but gets more than a few barrels pointing at him. As if that would stop him.

“I’m sorry, darling,” says Kaslur. “I didn’t mean to frighten you. But we could have prevented this.” He holds her head, not caring that she is the one having panicking breaths now. “I’m tired of waiting. You’re coming with me.” She shakes her head with a whimper that he shushes. “Don’t worry, love. I won’t press the button if you do as I say.”

“Not happening,” says Din behind gritted teeth. “Step away.”

Kaslur lifts his head. “Look around you, Mando. It’s five against one.”

“I like those odds.”

He laughs. “Of course you would, you fucking Mandalorian.” Kaslur stands up straight, his hand falling on her shoulder. “’Course if you did, then there’s no way you’re leaving here alive, much less on a Razor Crest. That was the deal, wasn’t it?” He snaps his fingers and a gangster brings him a comm device. With a few button clicks, it displays a hologram of a Razor Crest. “Walk away now and I transfer all ownership of this ship to you. My men will let you ride off into Hyperspace.”

Din freezes. The Razor Crest was the only reason he came to this planet in the first place. He needs it. It’s right there in front of him; the hard work is done already. But then his brown eyes flash back towards her.

She breaks the uncomfortable silence. “Just go, Mando,” she tells him. “Go. Take it.”

“I-I…”

“Go.” She forces a smile, tears welling in her eyes. “One of us should get off this awful planet.” And just like that, Din watches the tears streak down her cheek as she gives up her dream. His hand shakes as he lowers his blaster as the weight sits uncomfortably on his chest and shoulders. Someone walks over to grab the choker off the ground, placing it back in the box.

“I’ll get that nice and cleaned up for you,” says Kaslur. He presses a few buttons more before the hologram disappears. “Alright, she’s all yours. Congratulations.”

Din wants to punch him right in the teeth. He stands still as a statue as the mobsters move out, dragging along the dancer. She does not resist, she doesn’t even falter in that smile. One of us should get off this awful planet.

Most bounties leave a somewhat bitter taste in his mouth, but only one made him feel vile and wretched. Now, that number is two.

Din starts in the direction of where he can pick up the Razor Crest. Kaslur’s men greet him with ease and show it to him. They go over the details, but honestly, Din cannot concentrate on them. With every explanation, every demonstration, he sees her face. He sees her smile as the tears stain her cheeks. He hears the horrified scream she let out when they saw the collar.

And he imagines it on her neck. Always present, always a threat. He imagines a broken smile on her lips as she does everything Kaslur asks of her, too afraid to refuse.

The men leave him alone in the Razor Crest. He sits in the pilot’s seat and thanks to muscle memory is able to power it on and go through the motions. Good, he succeeded, he has a home for the time being. Yet, any thought of celebration is rebuked with disgust.

And her smile.

He knows what he has to do.

Never before had a choker had a more apt name. The dancer sits at the end of the fancy table in Kaslur’s dining room in his penthouse overlooking the city. Across from her, he tears at his food, getting juices stained on his chin and shirt. Her body trembles and she stares at her untouched plate. The thought of swallowing against the choker vanishes her appetite. “I’ve already sent for your things,” he tells her, startling her. “No more dancing for ungrateful twigs.”

She keeps her hands on her lap. “Am I… never to dance again?”

Kaslur laughs. “No, my dear. You will simply dance for me. And only for me.” His voice lowers to a certain register that makes her skin crawl. “And this time, darling, everything is going to come off.”

“E...Everything?”

Kaslur wipes his lips with a napkin. “Come, I’ll show you your room.”

With wobbling knees, she stands and follows him. Kaslur takes her hand and leads her through the large space of his penthouse, opening the door to an ornate bedroom. The windows are ceiling to floor and the bed is large with plush pillows and a canopy. He shoves her inside and closes the door.

Oh no.

“I’ve been dreaming about this day for years,” he starts. “The day I finally claim you… how should I do it? Should I make you dance for me? Or sing? How you seduced me every night with your voice, your body…” He creeps closer to her as she steps back. “I don’t know where you come from, my love, but I know a one-of-a-kind woman, especially on this shithole of a planet.”

She gulps. She feels the choker around her.

“Haha… I digress. So I was thinking, how do I want this night to go? Then, I realized… it doesn’t matter.” He laughs. “You’ll do every single one. Tomorrow, you’ll dance. The day after, you’ll sing. On day three, I want you crawling to me, offering your body.” Kaslur shoves her onto the bed. She tries leaving, but he rests a knee on her legs. “For every fucking year you made me wait for this, you’re gonna do everything I want, understand?”

“P-Please—”

Kaslur grabs the fabric of her dress and tears it off with a loud rip, making her scream. “And don’t give me that look! You’re gonna enjoy every second of it.” He seizes her breast, twisting the flesh and making her whimper in pain. “If you don’t, if you’re not enjoying it, there’ll be consequences.” He groans. “Fuck, your body is so beautiful.”

She shuts her eyes. She wills time to turn faster. How foolish she was to think that she could escape this place, escape him. More tears well up in the corner of her eyes, but she is afraid of crying. His hand curls around her neck as he tears away more of the fabric. She thought she heard the sound of a door sliding open, but Kaslur does nothing about it. He forces his hand between her legs and she is about to cry out.

Something knocks Kaslur to the side. In a flash of activity, she sees a blur of silver and sees Kaslur tumble to the floor. A blade of pure black light materializes and stabs right through Kaslur, choking him and expiring his life. The dancer sits up, her eyes taking in the sight of the Mandalorian sheathing his weapon and standing over him. He turns his visor towards her before quickly looking away from her state of undress. “I-I’m sorry. I wasn’t here in time.”

It takes her a second to process what has happened. When she realizes that she was rescued, that she didn’t have to endure what she braced herself for, she chokes out a sob. She lunges forward and hugs the Mandalorian despite her nakedness. He lifts his hands before looking around the room, finding nothing. With a sigh, he takes off his cape and wraps it around her shoulders. “We don’t have a lot of time. We have to go now. I’m sorry.”

“We...We’re going?”

“Yes.” He steps back, away from her. “I’m getting you off this planet.”

“I’m…” Elation fills her expression. “Wait.” She leans down and grabs the bracelet from Kaslur’s wrist. With bated breath, she clicks the other button and just prays in that split second she doesn’t die. Then the collar falls from her neck. The relief almost brings her to tears. With that, she takes the cape and holds it around her torso. Then, she gives one last look at Kaslur's corpse. With a rare scowl, she kicks his head. “Okay, let’s go.” She turns away, her expression softening.

“Do as I say,” he says. “This will be rough.”

“Okay.” She follows him. “Thank you, Mando. Thank you…!”

#the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian #din djarin #the mandalorian fanfic #the mandalorian x you #work: silk for armor #tw assualt #tw sa mention #tw attempted sa #THIS TOOK SO LONG #IM SO SORRY LOL

37 notes · View notes