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dumbbitchenergy17 · 11 months

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Clan of Three (BOBF) - Chapter 1

Chapter One: The Mandalorian and the Jedi

Plot: A Mandalorian, an infant with a history of the jedi, and a teenager with similar powers with a slowly discovering lineage. With the child off with the Jedi, the close-knit pair continues their travels through the galaxy.

Word Count: 5.7K

Pairing: Father Figure!Din Djarin x Platonic!Teen!Reader

Warnings: fighting/violence, injuries, semi-angst, slight ptsd, some wholesome moments, father-daughter moments

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The streets are empty besides the few that travel with the star that the space station orbits around and lights sections of the streets before incasing it into darkness. Gentle footsteps were barely noticeable unless you were skilled in listening out for them. The men work away in the slaughterhouse the smell of raw meat and blood fills the air as the butches cut into the large slabs of meat a shadow passing by and one looks back catching something in the corner of his eye but shaking it off not seeing anything. Hidden behind the slaughterhouse is a makeshift officer who works the corrupt side hidden behind the facade of a meat packing industry. A Klatooinian sits at his desk working away while others stand around either talking to one another or making sure the man at the desk is well protected.

“Kaba Baiz…” A voice speaks out and they all look over at a hooded figure resting against one of the walls, “You sure are a difficult man to find.” They speak out as the men surrounding Kaba brandish weapons but the figure raises their hand, “You don’t want to hurt me.” The voice calming but commanding as Kaba watches his men lower their weapons obeying this stranger's orders. Looking back jumping back slightly seeing the hooded figure in front of the desk their hands resting on the table.

“I don’t know who you’re talking about…you’re looking at the wrong person.” He says and the figure chuckles and he can see their shoulders move with their laughter. “Trust me Kaba I’m looking at him. So here’s your option you either kindly follow me so I can turn you in and get my money or someone who won’t care if you’re alive is going to come. Your choice.” The person speaks and Kaba can see just a glimpse of their mouth as they smile waiting for his decision. He wasn’t sure if this person was insane or just dumb enough to think he would listen. The voice sounded young and to think whoever they were was trying to threaten him.

“Get lost. I won’t tell you again, I’m not your guy.” He says and he sees their shoulders slump. They reach out and grab a credit hold it up to the light seeing the integrity of it before dropping it back down.

“I did warn you..” They say and heavy footsteps grow closer to the room he turns to look back at the hooded figure finding them gone right as the plastic curtains open revealing a rugged man in shiny beskar armor. He should’ve taken their advice.

The night air cools your skin as you rest on a metal railing looking up at the space that was looking down at you. The cloak and mask covering your face were pulled back as you watched the stars move past you. The sounds of fighting faint coming from the building as you wait for it to die down before you hear footsteps though it sounds like something is being dragged as well.

“I’m guessing he didn’t take my deal.” You say looking over at the bounty hunter in his hand a sack that you assume contains Kaba's head. You instantly notice him limping and you quickly join his side, “What did you do?” You ask looking at his leg and seeing the large burn on his upper thigh the skin badly injured.

“I’m fine,” He says waving you off and taking a step forward but he can’t stop the groan from escaping his mouth and your body goes under his arm supporting his bad side, “What did I tell you about speaking to the bounties? What if they-” He speaks up his tone scolding and you roll your eyes.

“They didn’t see my face Din, and if they had you probably already took them out.” You say as you travel through the streets of Glavis Ringworld, you’ve both been traveling for bounties for information on the coverts of Mandalorians. With Din being reinstated into the Guild you could have some credits to keep you afloat but with no ship or a permanent home, you’ve bounced around planets and worlds following after the hardened Mandalorian. “We’re in this together…I’m not leaving you to do all the work.” You say leaving the grimy streets of Glavis to a more glitzy area, people dressed in silks and clothes covered in jewels. The two of you probably stuck out like sore thumbs you mainly, while Din had the shiny beskar armor you were dressed in layers of clothes. After the Jedi and Grogu left you and Din traveled with the group to see him get turned in from the New Republic before you both took off. It took time with the limited credits Din had from bounties though you put your effort in a pickpocket or two you never told the man. You were able to rebuild a new outfit. Your old one was too ripped up and covered in blood and you didn’t like the memories associated with the clothes.

Din didn’t say anything following your comment the both of you entered a turbolift with a Caskadag inside who moves to stand towards the side far away from the two of you. He could sense the unease in the man. Din glances down at you still reliving his weight off his bad leg, your gaze was straight forward a permanent frown etched on your features. You refused to speak about what happened on Moff Gideon’s cruiser as if the incident never existed but he could see the few moments the mask you put up cracked for just a second. The flash of panic in your eyes when someone touched you without warning, or when he caught you once as they traveled on a train after a bounty your gaze was focused on your hands. You hadn’t realized Din was watching as you flexed your hands curling them in and out of fists tracing the scars on your knuckles. You had completely shattered your knuckles and needed surgery luckily getting it from a medical droid on the cruiser, the little things you thought he didn’t notice he saw.

You were older…more mature. It was only a year from when he met you when you were seventeen but things had changed now. You smiled less, his poor excuses for jokes were met with laughter that didn’t reach your eyes, and you would stare off shutting out the world around you, when you fought you were vicious but you dissociate during them and once they were over your mind was a blur of what you did. He knew whatever Gideon had done to you would stick with you forever but keeping it all in wasn’t healthy. You had too much on your plate with the weapon that is technically yours but now resting on his. The Darksaber, you refused to touch it or glance at it, hearing the history and meaning of owning this weapon. To bring the people of Mandalore together and rule as Mand’alor but you rejected it and the title that weighs you down. He would think back on what that Jedi said when you rejected his offer to go train with him.

“Your connection to the force is driven by your emotions without proper guidance you walk a thin line that can have you fall down the path of the dark side,”

He wasn’t going to force you to train with the Jedi but he was still nervous when in moments punches wouldn’t be held back or threats to quarries weren’t a fear tactic. The turbolift reaches the floor you’re meant to go to and you and Din step forward the music of the lounge fills your ears. Din feels the helpful hand leave his side and he’s forced to limp forward just catching the hood and mask of your cloak coming on and you disappear without seeing where you went. It was a skill you had acquired with still being a target to the small remnants of the empire and it didn’t take long for news to spread of being the ancestor of a famous Jedi and the Mandalore Duchess. It was being hidden from the last bits of the empire that wishes to rid of the jedi, bounties looking for a highly valued bounty, and the New Republic with a possible political player. Din moves towards the private lounge reaching a table covered in an assortment of foods with people surrounding the table.

From the bar, you had a clear view of Din as he spoke to the contractor for the bounty. Raising your hand briefly to the bartender who comes over and a glass of spotchka is slid over to you and you in return place a credit on the bar, your gaze is still focused on Din as he speaks to them and you could sense the frustration coming from the Mandalorian.

“Hey, you wanna buy death sticks?” A voice calls out to you and you glance over at a man standing beside you holding out fluorescent sticks a smirk on his face.

"You don't want to sell me death sticks." You say with a slight wave of your hand and he steps back, "I don't wanna sell you death sticks." He says putting the sticks away.

"You want to go home and rethink your life." You say another small wave of your hand and he looks almost ashamed of his decision, "I wanna go home and rethink my life.” He says and you watch him turn to leave the lounge. You smirk pulling down your mask slightly to take a sip of the spotchka your lips curling at the burn from the liquid. You see Din taking the credits while placing the bag on the table before heading off. You leave the drink at the bar following after him sliding into the lift after him it ascends down. From the corner of your eye, Din examines the burn on his upper thigh.

Leaving the lift you back outside the cool air blows past you as you walk further from the glitz and glam of part of Glavis Ringworld to where the crimes lie and those who don’t want to be found. When there were only your and Din’s footsteps you pull the hood and mask off your face slowly trailing behind the limping Mandalorian. The loud machinery from the railway above you as you move deeper into the industrial layout, you see Din move his hand to his helmet as he scans the alley,

“What do you see?” You ask as he suddenly moves down an alley the sounds of the railways fading away,

“A path..” Din says and you follow after him as he continues after this trail apparently only he can see before you reach a hatch in the wall, “This is the place.” He says as he opens it entering with you close behind the doorway and shutting it behind you. Following down a stairwell that reveals the underneath of Glavis like its own city of metal bridges and platforms under the ring space station. A ladder leads down to a platform but how easy it could be to take a wrong step and fall straight into space and the rusty ladder doesn’t help either. Din heads down first taking it slow, especially with his leg everything was fine until his leg hits the rung and he slips down. Your hand grabs his wrist as you half hang off the top platform as he clutches the ladder.

“Din…are you okay?!” You ask panic in your eyes, it would be so easy to slip and fall off and you had reacted so fast down almost upside down on this ladder your other hand holding onto the railing.

“I’m fine kid,” He hisses in pain in his legs, “I gotta help you though,” He tries moving up to help your hanging body but you shake your head.

“Just head down I’ll be fine.” You reassure him as he painfully heads down the rest of the ladder and once he’s down he looks up at you as you try bringing yourself up but your body is so far off the ladder.

“Kriffff…” You sigh before fixing your grip on the ladder, “Make sure to grab me if I fall and die.” You call out to him, “What do you mean fal-Maker kid!” Din yells seeing you fully flip your body off the platform your hands twisting on the rung as your back hits and you lose your grip falling straight off the ladder. Your hands grip the side of the floor your hold quickly losing and your weightless falling straight into space.

“Shit!”

A harsh grip on your wrist as your held above the vast amount of space and you look up at Din who’s holding you up with one hand, “Give me your hand kid,” You can hear the strain in his voice from holding you with one hand and his leg digs into the metal grating. Swinging your other arm and you grab his arm as he pulls you up and you swing your leg catching onto the platform rolling onto it. You lay on your back trying to calm your heaving breaths as Din sits back trying to calm his own rapidly beating heart, this kid was going to give him a heart attack one of these days.

“Don’t…do that…again.” He pants and you nod holding a thumbs up, “Yeah…thanks for catching me.” You respond weakly before you push yourself to stand holding out your hand to Din, “Come on old man,” You say and you can feel the look he gives you through his helmet but gladly accepts your hand groaning when putting weight on his leg. Heading through the platform as it opens up more area and further ahead on a jutted-out platform you saw the female Mandalorian sitting with her weapons besides her looking to be praying. Din walks forward down a small step but his leg gives out and he grabs his leg, you rush to his side looking over his leg which looked worse.

“Tend to him.” The Armorer calls out and you hear footsteps seeing a very tall and buff Mandalorian compared to Din, “I didn’t know if I would ever see you again.” The man says with a gruff deep voice as he holds a medpack with him,

“Thank you for saving me on Nevarro,” Din says as your hand grazes the burn and he shudders in pain, “Sorry..” You whisper before rubbing your hands on your pants to get rid of sweat, “I don’t know if I’ll be as good as the child when he did it..” You explain before bringing your hand to rest over his thigh and focusing. Breathing through your nose focusing on the breathing and the energy you put it to heal him. Your focus is broken when you’re shoved away from Din falling and you push yourself on your elbows.

“We do not wish for your jedi witchcraft.” The Mandalorian hisses at you and you look at him in shock from the venom in his tone.

“Don’t touch her.” Din tries moving to your defense but groans in pain from his leg.

“Calm yourself Paz Vizsla…the girl is of Mandalore blood.” The Armorer warns him standing up and watching the interaction.

“She does not wear Mandalorian armor. She does not Walk the Way…she is a jedi. She is no Mandalorian.” Vizsla aims his words at you and you can feel his glare through the beskar. His hand moves to point at you and a screech fills the air an orange blade is aimed at him. He recoils back from the heat the blade gives off the kyber crystal producing a powerful and quite destructive blade.

“Touch me again and you will walk no way Mandalorian…” You hiss your body tense on the defensive your threat weighs heavy in the air.

“Kid..” Din calls out and your glare shifts from Vizsla to your guardian, you can feel the look he was giving you and the blade retracts as you quickly stand glaring down at Vizsla. You’re already moving heading off to Maker knows where just wanting to be anywhere but here.

Your legs hang over the platform though no railing might be scary to others you felt at peace having them dangling over the edge. Your fingers trace the raised skin on your knuckles, the shattering pain with each blow you gave flashes of his face and all that blood.

“This is the non-diplomatic option,”

You hiss in pain your hand instinctively rests on your stomach though no scars lie there the memories and the phantom pain forever haunts you.

“Ibic cuyir te ara.” A voice whispers out into the air and you turn towards it finding nothing around you but silence. Swinging your legs back to safety walking on the catwalk back towards the three Mandalorians trying your best to ignore the unease that coats your body.

You can hear large metal moving as you draw closer and you see Din and Vizsla connecting large tubes to what looks like the smelter back in the tunnels on Nevarro.

“Where did you come upon the Darksaber?” Vizsla ponders looking at the weapon attached to Din’s belt, “She defeated Moff Gideon.” Din responds while connecting another tube,

“Then why do you wield it?” Vizsla asks and Din pauses sensing your presence and seeing you have now joined but you sit away from them but certainly in hearing distance. You were leaning against a crate your nose in one of the old texts that you’ve re-read multiple times. He didn’t fully understand some of them not even in Basic but you read them like someone else was hidden within the pages. He saw the disdain and hatred you would give to the weapon he wielded but only for the use of it not as its owner. It’s owner refuses to touch it.

“I can not answer that.” Din replies and they continue working, “Did she kill him.” Hearing Paz’s question his mind could only go back to the light cruiser.

Your fists cave in the warlord’s face the fury in your eyes and blood paints your body. Screams of rage and hysterics as you beat the life out of the man that had tarnished the last glimpse of your innocence. Standing above him the wildness in your face as you hold the Darksaber ready to deliver the killing blow. “He has to die! I’ll kriffing kill him. Gideon has to!”

It was a wrath Din never expected to come from you but you were tainted by that man. Whatever was said to you before Gideon had attacked you was burned into your mind. It was violent and graphic that he hadn’t thought would be occurring to you out of all people, you were kind, compassionate, and caring of others, but Gideon took that from you and he paid the consequences.

“No,” He says shaking his head trying to get rid of those thoughts, “But he was sent off to the New Republic for interrogation, and he will face justice for his crimes.”

“Death would have been justice for his atrocities,” Paz says and Din can’t help to agree. If his priority wasn’t you or the child and the knowledge he has for the New Republic, Gideon’s guts would be spread across that light cruiser.

“This is true. The blood of millions of our kind is on his hands.” The Armorer replies as the smelter powers up flames appearing highlighting the beskar armor.

“Then he will be executed for his crimes by the New Republic Tribunal.” Din says stepping forward as the Armorer moves from the flames to a cupboard, “We shall see. The songs of eons past foretold of the Mythosaur rising up to herald a new age of Mandalore. Sadly, it only exists in legends. Where did you come upon the beskar spear?”

Din moves forward pulling the spear off his back and holding it out for the Armorer to take, “It was the gift of a Jedi. It can block a lightsaber. I used it to rescue the child.” The Armorer examines the weapon hitting it to the ground as the pure beskar rings through the air,

“It can also pierce beskar armor. Its mere existence puts Mandalorians at risk. Mandalorian steel is meant for armor, not weapons.” She says and Din pauses before glancing over at the girl still away from them and the small child off with the Jedi.

“Then forge it into armor.” He says and the female Mandalorian nods, “The Darksaber is a more noble weapon for you to wield. Though the true owner of the weapon should wield this weapon.”

The Armorer puts the beskar spear on top of the smelter glowing a bright red as it heats to a level to melt Din takes a seat before the woman working, “Have you ever heard of Bo-Katan Kryze?” The name has your head perking up, you and Bo-Katan following Grogu’s departure with the jedi had little time to learn of each other. Even then you were practically out of it the world blurring by you as your father’s aunt tried to learn about you and your father but only short sentences or no responses came. Your conversation ended there as Din pulled you away with Cara’s help to get you cleaned up and seen by the medical droid, your blood and…his was still drying on your skin and your knuckles were shattered.

“Bo-Katan is a cautionary tale,” The Armorer explains thinking back on her history of the Kryze House as she pours the melted liquid from a tube into a container to solidify, “She once laid claim to rule Mandalore based purely on blood and the sword you now possess. But it was gifted to her and not won by Creed. Bo-Katan Kryze was born of a mighty house, but they lost sight of the way. Her rule ended in tragedy. They lost their way, and we lost our world. Had our sect not been cloistered on the moon of Concordia, we would have not survived the Great Purge. Those born of Mandalore strayed away from the path. Eventually, the Imperial interlopers destroyed all that we knew and loved in the Night of a Thousand Tears.”

You could feel the tension coming off both Mandalorians and the sadness coming off Din, “Only those that walked the way escaped the curse prophesized in the Creed. Though our numbers were scattered to the winds, our adherence to the way has preserved our legacy for the generations until we may someday return to our homeworld.” The Armorer says before looking back at Din, “What shall I forge?”

Din glances at you and your gaze darts from him having been caught listening in, “Something for foundlings.” He suggests and the Armorer has an idea who one of them is and she nods “This is the way. Who is the other foundling?”

“The child…Grogu.” Din says and his chest aches with the reminder his other foundling was not with him, a part of his heart empty, his clan incomplete.

“He’s no longer in your care. He is with his own kind now.” The Armorer reminds him and the bounty hunter nods, “I want to see him, make sure he’s safe.” He says and the Armorer looks down at the man.

“In order to master the ways of the Force, Jedi must forgo all attachment.” She explains and Din hates to hear that. Was the child meant to let go of both himself and you, just forget to be able to properly train? Was this why you rejected the Jedi’s request? But was he a problem with stopping you from mastering the Force, this attachment you had for him for others?

“That is the opposite of our Creed. Loyalty and Solidarity are the way.” Din replies and the Armorer nods, “What shall I forge for the foundlings?”

You watch behind your book as the Armorer works around the smelter and other equipment clearly in her element and you can’t clearly see what she creates but she works diligently. Your focus is glued to the Mandalorian working away you didn’t notice your own Mandalorian’s presence near you.

“Kid..” Din’s touch is gentle on your shoulder but not accounted for as you stiffen your head snapping towards the foreign encounter. Your body relaxes once you realize it was only Din and you look forward to watching the Armorer work. “Kid.” He calls out again and you hum letting him know you have his attention, “You alright..just with what happened earlier and all.” He asks and your gaze returns back to the man though you can no longer see his face you could imagine the concern hidden behind his helmet, his brows furrowed, a frown painting his mouth, and his eyes filled with worry. You nod trying to reassure him.

“I’m fine Din,” You say trying to ignore the venom that burns your skin from Vizsla’s words, “It made sense to be wary of me, aren’t Jedi and Mandalorians sworn enemies or something.” You avert your gaze.

“Well, some still believe that,” He starts but seeing the hurt in your eyes he quickly backtracks, “I mean...I don’t believe that. You hear me. I could never hate you.” He grabs your hand and your gaze is still forward.

“But I’m no Mandalorian,” You say and Din gives you a look, “Of course, you are you’re-” “I know that physical...yes, I’m from Mandalore..I have the Dark-” You stop yourself before finishing the sentence your gaze briefly meeting the weapon before you quickly look away trying to calm your rapid heartbeat, “But I’m not like you. I don’t wear the armor, I don’t speak your Creed, I don’t walk the way.” An empty laugh leaves you as your gaze looks at the saber attached to your belt, “Could hardly call myself a jedi either.” You neither walked the way of the Mandalorians nor the way of the jedi. Din looks at the defeated look on your face before he stands up,

“Olaror. Laam,” (Come. Up,) He calls out holding a hand and you look at his hand before he gestures for you to take it. You’re pulled to your feet, “See you already understand what I’m saying. Already closer to being Mandalorian.” He says and starts away from the Armorer who is still working away. Following after him finding yourself on the catwalk from before as he stops turning to face you. “Okay come at me.” He holds his hands out and you look at him with a slight form of shock,

“What?” “Come on, no weapons, no powers, just straight fists.” He says and you shake your head, “Din I’m not fighting you,”

“Well, I’m not stopping until you do.” He says and before you could get another word a fist is flying toward your face. Leaning back avoiding the attack as you look at him in shock, “Come on,” He flexes his fist and you look at him before dodging another attack spinning around him so you both are on opposite sides. Your hands flex at your sides watching his movement, his fighting was fluid with powerful strikes while also thinking about his weak spots. There was a reason he was a well-feared bounty hunter. You had only got the jump on him a few times was pure luck on your end. In a real fight against him without using your saber or the force you were screwed.

“Stop worrying,” He calls out, “You know I’m stronger than you in a hand-to-hand fight, but you’re smarter use your wits to help you,” Din says looking over at you and you nod. He aims another punch toward you and you dodge kicking your leg out it connecting with the healing burn on his calf he grunts grabbing your ankle and twisting it forcing you to hit the ground. He tries pinning you but you spin around landing another kick right on the side of his ribs where the beskar plate doesn’t protect him. He’s quick with defense his fist striking against your chest and the wind is slightly knocked out of you as you fall back clutching your chest trying to catch your breath. He stalks towards you his hand grabbing your ankle and dragging you forward. When you’re close to him your free foot kicks against his chest your arms gripping his shoulders and with all your strength you throw him over you. He flips over not expecting it as he hits the ground and you hear a groan come from him. You stand rubbing your hand to your chest as he too stands as well both out of breath he nods,

“Good…you did good.” He says and you nod your breath calming down the pain in your chest now dull. Looking down he notices the Darksaber had unclipped from his belt and he moves to grab it, “You’re smart to target weakness you did good…kid? Kid..?”

You’re frozen looking at the weapon before you. Trapped unable to breathe or move. There was no flight or fight. You could only hear the blood pumping wildly through your body and your head spun making you weak. You felt restrained..back on the cruiser…back with…him. His touch sears your skin his words toxic as they drown you. You were overwhelmed by it unable to move, to think, to breathe, you were trapped within your own body. Bile fills your throat as your hands flex and unflex remembering the pain from your hands trying to focus on anything but what happened…what he did..just him.

“y/n..” You felt hands on your body and you reacted your vision blinded as they collided with something fighting them off and shoving them away. A yell fills the air before arms wrap around you pinning your arms to the side. Your thrash violently screams tearing through your throat as you’re brought to the ground.

“Stop Kid! Y/n…kid! You’re alright breathe!” The voice clears the fear as your hands shake violently gasping for air as hands grab your face forcing you to look at the beskar helmet. “Breathe…breathe.” He says showing an exaggerated inhale and exhale as you copy with your shaky inhales and exhales.

“I...I’m sorry…I’m sorry…I’m sorry.” You frantically apologize trying to push him off, he shouldn’t see you weak. He didn’t need that baggage but he shushes you pulling you into his chest and your hands are like vices clutching the cape on his back your face cool against the beskar. “You’re fine..you’re fine cyar’ika.” He mumbles his hand smoothing over your hair the other rubbing your back gently as you weakly mumble apologies.

“She’s a danger to rebuilding our covert.” Paz Vizsla’s voice makes you jump and Din holds you close to him pulling back to look at the Mandalorian that was breathing heavily with anger. Din had known when you pulled into yourself or dissociated following a fight be cautious around you not sure how you could react. But Vizsla had just appeared and the next thing either of them knew you were shoving the man off the catwalk. Luckily he had his jetpack to return him to safety but it was unprovoked and just instinct. Din had to restrain you when your hand moved for your saber unaware of what you would do when in a state of panic.

“She’s a child and my ward,” Din says ready to fight tooth and nail to keep you safe beside him. Especially against this man for the threat against his clan member.

“She leaves or I will do it myself.” Vizsla threatens, stepping forward and Din shifts putting you behind him aiming his blaster only to get one in return.

“You lay one finger on her-”

“Enough!” The Armorer’s voice breaks through the fight about to break out both lower their blasters before the female Mandalorian turns over to Viszla, “Paz Vizsla, have you ever removed your helmet?” She asks and Vizsla shakes his head firmly,

“No.”

“Has it ever been removed by others?”

“Never.” He says confidently and the Armorer nods, “This is the way.” Vizsla quickly repeats the saying. The Armorer then turns to Din looking at him.

“Din Djarin, have you ever removed your helmet?” Din is frozen and you were fearful about the response. You knew he had…he had taken it off for you and the child. “Have you ever removed your helmet? By Creed, you must vow.” She repeats again when he remains silent.

“I have.” He says.

“Then, you are a Mandalorian no more.” She says and Din moves forward towards the woman, “I beg you for your forgiveness. How can I atone?”

“Leave, apostate.” Vizsla hisses at him stepping forward but the Armorer holds up her hand, “According to Creed, one may only be redeemed in the Living Waters beneath the mines of Mandalore.” She explains as you listen but flashes of an open cave filled with waters return from your memory. But that was only a dream…or a vision.

“But the mines have all been destroyed.” Din replies and the woman looks at him, “This is the way.” She says before holding out something wrapped in cloth and the Darksaber which Din accepts. Looking at the two Mandalorians now an apostate he turns to the girl still on the ground watching the interaction before he helps you to your feet and you give one final look at the pair before following after Din. Returned to the streets of Glavis you look at the silent Manda... bounty hunter as he walks through the streets. Would you be able to call him a Mandalorian anymore? It’s silent as you walk side but side but he leads before you speak up.

“I’m sorry..” Your voice breaks the silence as he glances down at you, “It’s my fault you’re an apostate..if I hadn’t protected the child on Thyton we wouldn’t have been taken…you wouldn’t have to come after us..you wouldn’t have to take off your helme-” “Stop kid.” He cuts your rambling off and you look at him ready for his scolding or just more silence.

“I took my helmet off because I wanted to…our mishaps had nothing to force that.” He says and you nod slowly before your hand slides into his squeezing it and he returns one, “What do we do now..”

#star wars #star wars fanfiction #the mandalorian #the book of boba fett #clan of three series #din djarin #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin x reader #din x reader #din djarin x jedi!reader #din djarin x teen!reader #mando x reader

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homebreweds · 1 year

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* in the source link, you will find 34 sharpened gifs of cars, buildings, mostly-faceless people / groups, guitar playing, and various other scenes for use as bases, faceless muses, moodboards, and anything else you like. all of these gifs were created from the first episode teenage bounty hunters ( daddy's truck ). you are free to use as long as you tag #usercapella or #userlntisar as credit. i’d love to see what you do! i do plan to sort these into more specific packs later on, if you would prefer to wait for that!

content warnings : g.un imagery, v.iolence, explosions / flashing, stuntwork specifically related to cars, religious school environment, kissing (1 gif, distant).

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djarinsbeskar · 3 years

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PREQUEL ARC: PART 3 - THE BOUNTY

A/N: Part 3 of Stitches has arrived! This chapter was difficult to write, I'll be honest. And I'd really appreciate any feedback if it doesn't read as well as the first two chapters or doesn't make sense or is boring etc. etc.

This is the penultimate prologue chapter, with the story very much shifting to surround the dynamic and growth of the readers relationship with Din so if you can hold out for me just a bit longer, I promise, I'll make it worth the wait. You know what I'm talking about friends.

Pairing: Din Djarin/Fem!Reader

Word Count: 7k

Rating: 18+ (NO Minors)

Warnings: None

Summary: You encounter Mando suffering one misfortune after another.

AO3 | Stitches Masterlist | Main Masterlist

9 ABY, on the Hydian Way.

Din prided himself on the strength of his principles. An unwavering certainty in everything he did that gave him a modicum of peace as he wandered throughout the galaxy amidst wars, rebellions and the chaos that ensued in their aftermath.

He was certain when he took the Creed, when he sacrificed a future for himself in service of the covert; something he had never regretted to this day. He had never regretted any bounty taken; unmoved by pleas, promises or threats. Neither tears nor anger could sway his resolve.

Truly, he could count on one hand the things he regretted in life; the job on Alzoc III, challenging a fully grown Mandalorian to a fight while still a hot blooded, angry teenager, and not trying to pull his parents into the bunker where they had hidden him from Separatist droids as Aq Vertina was invaded.

In his line of work, there was seldom room for self-doubt. Inner conflict led to hesitation, which could be a death sentence for a bounty hunter.

And yet, as he came out of hyperspace, that unfamiliar gnawing presence in the pit of his stomach began to rear its’ head again. The job he had accepted was… dubious, to say the least.

Din snorted in self-deprecation; most of his jobs were dubious in nature.

What brought on this unnatural doubt, however, was that this was a job for Imperial remnants. Din wasn’t a fool; he knew half the jobs he had taken in the past could have been traced to the Imps if he cared enough to look, but taking a job from them personally… well, he didn’t know how to feel about that just yet.

He pondered the feeling in his stomach again and frowned. Was it doubt… or instinct? Instinct was his most trusted companion as he travelled through space alone. A tickle at the back of his neck, a wary step forward, even a flash of electricity down his spine; those were only some of the ways that instinct spoke to him. And he always listened.

An uncomfortable feeling in his stomach though? Never that.

If it was instinct, then he was going against his very nature in ignoring it. If it was doubt, based on some misguided sense of morality in dealing with the empire… that he could deal with. He could smother doubt with control and consistency; going through the motions of a job brought security and familiarity. Sooner or later, that doubt would make way for a stoic acceptance, a state that had gotten Din through some of his roughest years.

His eyes were drawn to his shoulder, where the glint of newly crafted beskar shone in the gentle lights of the cockpit.

A down-payment…

“Makers Helmet…” he groaned, running a gloved thumb and forefinger across his tired eyes to pinch the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache coming on as the pressure at the back of his skull increased due to the loop his thoughts were going in.

A job was a job. He circled back to his original thought that had led him to accept the clients offer. A job with a bounty greater than anything he could have ever hoped to receive in his lifetime, let alone in one go. It was mere sentimentality and conscience getting in the way of good business. That beskar could not only provide him with armor to reaffirm his loyalty to the covert, but assistance and support to the foundlings and those who raised them.

His resolved steeled. He had never regretted putting the covert before himself, and he wasn’t about to start now.

Turning his attention back to the navicomputer, he scanned the co-ordinates that his most recent lead had pointed to. He had hunted the trail of his latest bounty to the general direction of a vast area of space that straddled the outer reaches of the Outer Rim and halted as it reached Wild Space. There was nothing to stop the bounty from being in those unexplored parts of the galaxy, and if the tracking beacon led him that far, he would have to be ready. With no spaceport on any of the planets he had seen dotting the area on the navicomputer, he thought it wise to refuel and gather provisions should he be there for any prolonged period.

As he lazily assessed which planet to land on, his eyes were drawn to a familiar name. A memory brushed against his thoughts. Not necessarily a pleasant one, but not entirely unpleasant either. For the sake of fairness, Din scanned the planets surrounding the one he pondered; some were equally as well equipped for his needs but the majority he had not been on in years if ever. Somewhere he knew, even briefly, gave him more comfort than the unknown.

At least, that was what Din told himself as he punched in the co-ordinates of Dandoran, the flicker of warmth the memory brought him was something equally as unnatural as the doubt coiled in his stomach.

Bantha balls, maybe he had been poisoned again...

Din tossed a few credits to the human female who received the Razor Crest into the hanger she was managing.

“She needs to be refueled.” Was all he said as he made his way out of the hanger and into the not unfamiliar streets of Mynock. It didn’t look like much had changed in the several months since he was here last; the place was still crawling with a mixture of criminals, bounty hunters and people who just didn’t want to be found. All in all, a good example of most Outer Rim cities.

Mynock had two main pedestrian streets that ran for over two klicks and intersected at the middle. From what he could tell, all legitimate business ran from those two streets, the further into the alleyways and twisted lanes that branched off those two streets one ventured, the seedier the business.

From what he knew, the practice you worked at was on one of these main streets. He paused, causing a few disgruntled pedestrians to have to jerk to a halt and make their way around his imposing frame. He was not here socially. He was never anywhere socially. He shook his head; between self-doubt and sentimentality, the tight leash he usually kept himself on was looser than he remembered and he had no idea just when it had started to slack.

That could not continue. But being aware of a problem allowed him to deal with it. So, with a greater sense of fortitude, he mentally choked any distracting feelings beyond the determination to collect this bounty. That included the somewhat interesting possibility of seeing you again.

Thankfully, Din only needed to stick to the main streets. The road was flanked by stall upon stall of foodstuffs, clothing, trinkets, ammunition and what looked to be a husbandry of Massiff dogs. The large, reflective eyes turned to the Mandalorian; all bared fangs and hostile snarls. An understandable response by most non-sentients when a Mandalorian had no real physical cues they could read, being as covered as they were. Until he lifted his hand for the one closest to sniff, they could only assume he was a threat.

A sniff was usually all it took however, before the snarling stopped. Din brushed a hand over the scaly head as he continued on his way to collect what he came here for.

An hour later, and Din was feeling much more at ease as he picked up the last of the supplies he thought he may need; ration packs, bactapads, generic ammunition that he liked to keep well stocked on the ship and so on. He was once more mentally compiling the information he had gathered on the location of the bounty, running through various routes in his mind that would cover the most planets in the parsec in the shortest amount of time.

He nodded his thanks at the change the Rhodian merchant returned to him and began to make his way back to the Razor Crest. If it hadn’t been for the long flick of your hair in the tie you kept it up in when you turned your head to look at someone at a stall across the central walkway of the street, Din was certain he’d have walked on none the wiser. But alas, that same higher power that had gifted him with a keep perception of his surroundings cursed him in the same fell swoop as the movement attracted his attention.

He came up short, running a mental check on himself immediately. No, no injuries. His shoulder still ached on occasion from being dislocated six months earlier, but it was a phantom pain at most these days. He was fit as a mythosaur and he wasn’t about to have that good streak ruined by getting injured in your presence… again.

Din wondered if he could escape to his ship without you noticing; he didn’t want to tempt fate anymore than he already had. Plus, awkward interactions that left him feeling frustrated both mentally and physically were not high on the list of things he enjoyed, thank you very much.

As a Mandalorian, Din expected attention wherever he went. It was just something he chalked down to being a necessary evil to live by his Creed but he had never wanted to be more invisible than he did in that moment, thinking that at any moment he would be trip into a sarlacc pit or something equally unpleasant.

But you hadn’t seen him, thankfully; much more invested in the choices at the fishmonger’s stall.

Despite his better judgement however, he paused from slipping back to his ship silently.

He was taken by the slight pink flush that rose to your cheeks at something the woman behind the stall said, intrigued by the color and what caused it. Din tilted his head slightly. He had noticed you getting flushed in frustration or annoyance both times you had treated him. It was fascinating to see your cheeks flush for a reason other than irritation and anger.

That particular thought touched a dangerous part of Din’s mind, a part that made him wander into the realm of curiosity to ponder what else might make you blush like that.

Oh, but it was a delightful color on you, and he watched longer than he ought to, a small quirk lifting the corner of his lips. The image of domesticity as you adjusted the parcels of food already in your arms to accept the fish was so foreign to his eyes and certainly not one he ever associated with you until now. It spoke to a part of him that still slumbered but began to fidget in its sleep, on the verge of consciousness.

That tentative smile that he had unwittingly been giving into as he indulged his senses by watching you, dropped the moment three males approached you. The Twi’lek was standing too close for you to be comfortable and by the rigidity of your spine, he knew you were not.

You had taken a step away from the men easily, your body language read cautious but not fearful and he knew better than to underestimate your abilities to wrangle men into whatever position you wanted them in. He had first-hand experience in that department and honestly, it wasn’t nearly as fun as it sounded in his head.

Din relaxed the grip he had unknowingly tightened on the blaster at his hip when you made to leave the stall, away from the three. He shook his head at himself; you had lived here for years. You knew how to handle yourself perfectly fine.

Letting out a breath, he was about to continue back to the ship when that same cursed perception caught the Twi’leks arm shoot out to grip your upper arm tightly, preventing your exit.

Din was behind you before he even realized he had moved.

You examined the range of fish on offer, eyes skeptically crossing off anything that looked like it had been sitting out too long or anything with more than four eyes. You weren’t squeamish by nature, but the fewer dead eyes that were staring at you while you prepared dinner, the better.

One of the few perks of Mynock, was its proximity to the Great Basin of Dandoran that opened out to one of the many oceans to cover the planet. Fresh seafood was a staple in the city and after years of ration packs between the Rebellion and Klatooine, eating fresh was a luxury you would never take for granted again. Your own home planet was mostly covered in water too; the greater population spread over countless clusters of islands where seafood was also the meal of choice for most. It was a tenuous connection but being able to cook dishes somewhat like the ones your mother made when you and your brothers were younger made it feel like you weren’t so far away.

You smiled to yourself at the thought as you pointed to the light blue colored Berbersian crabs, knowing the trawlers had come in only this morning that carried them. The claws were meaty with the slightest sweetness to their flavor that complimented most dishes. Not to mention that when cooked, they turned the most vibrant blue that their shells alone could be used for decoration and craft.

You chatted aimlessly with the fishmonger as she cleaned and prepared the translucent peachy pink fish you had also chosen for good measure.

“Busy at Biran’s?”

“When are we not busy?”

“It’s all them fights between the gangs. Folk say since the Hutts were chased out that things are better but it’s even more dangerous with the others tryin’ to take their place.”

You only gave a non-committal hum to that; you didn’t get involved in politics of any kind. Gang or otherwise.

The mindless chatter continued on nonetheless to more safe topics.

“Did I tell ye, Drea had her baby not three days ago. Another girl.”

“Poor Nej will have his hands full when they all get older.”

“I’m sure they’re dying for a boy at this point. Great excuse to keep sowin’ the crops though, ain’t it?”

“I’m sure they don’t need any excu—”

“Ever think of havin’ any of yer own? Yer well into that time of yer life, I’d say no?”

You blinked, nearly missing the bag of produce as she handed it across the stall to you. You could feel your face heat up at the direction this conversation had turned, and you definitely never thought you would be discussing your biological clock with a fishmonger over Berbersian crab.

“Well I---”

Movement from the corner of your eye stole your attention from that progressively awkward conversation and the no doubt insufficient answer you would have given as three males came to stand at the same stall, facing you. Your eyes scanned the trio sideways, not prepared to give them your attention unless it became unavoidable. There were two humans and a Twi’lek and given the way the humans flanked the large blue male; you had a fair idea about who was in charge as he sneered at you in what you assumed was meant to be a disarming smile.

The blasters at each of their hips and the emerald green coloring on the right sleeve of their jackets told you they belonged to one of the gangs the fishmonger had been complaining about not a few minutes earlier. This gang in particular, the Quai-Kisu or Emerald Dagger in Basic, were a faction that splintered off from the main Hutt crime syndicate once their influence in Dandoran lessened. Their trademark was spice smuggling but anyone with two braincells knew that they accepted the lesser charge to hide the true wealth of their criminal activity, flesh trafficking.

Suffice to say, you didn’t want anything to do with them and you most certainly didn’t want them to want anything to do with you.

“Can I help you?” You kept your eyes on them as you handed the fishmonger what you owed her when it was clear they weren’t going to leave; the woman wisely remaining quiet as she accepted the credits.

None of them responded immediately, and you wondered if this was a new scare tactic they were employing to make people anxious. The crimson hue of the Twi’leks eyes glinted as he contemplated you, running down your figure lazily before meeting your eyes again when you frowned,

“Ol’ man Biran available for a house call?” He rumbled, the sun catching the points of the filed canines as he spoke.

“I’m afraid Biran doesn’t make house calls anymore. Besides, he’s been under the weather for the last few days unfortunately.”

You reeled the lie off effortlessly, having learned over the years who Biran would tend to and who he would rather see succumb to whatever ailed them. It was a steep and difficult learning curve for you, your initial training taught you that you must do your utmost to save every life. Biran had laughed in derision, saying that that mindset wouldn’t serve you well out here. These were gangs, not the flyboys of Corellia. Saving one of their lives might condemn countless others. So while you struggled, you accepted that it was his practice and he made the rules and after over two years on Dandoran, you had seen enough victims of the gang warfare to not feel any pity when one of them suffered an injury.

“C’mon beautiful. One of our pals was injured in a… terrible, terrible accident.” The taller of the two human males, a lanky man with a neck that looked much too long and eyes that took way too much liberty in running over your body.

“There are other doctors in Mynock.” You replied steadily, “I’m sure one of them can help.”

To humor them any longer would be to encourage trouble, so you cut the conversation short and turned quite deliberately to make the point that the conversation was over, flashing the fishmonger a wan smile before turning back the way you came.

“We weren’t done talkin’ to you.”

Your eyes widened marginally when an iron grip closed around your upper arm, your free hand dropping the items in your arm immediately to click the safety off your blaster and lift it in the time it took for the Twi’lek to yank you into facing him again.

“Did I say you could lay a hand on me?” You hissed, the blaster pointing upward from where you held it close to your body towards the underside of the Twi’lek’s chin.

“Quite the little spitfire, ain’t she lads?” He crowed, amused by your action. His laughter was like shattered glass on your ears, making you want to wince, but you kept your hand steady even as your heart pounded. You received as much training as anyone when they joined the Rebellion, but your experience in actual combat beyond treating people on the front line was limited. You knew your own limitations, and that there was no way you would be able to take on all three of them.

The hand around your arm squeezed painfully and you clocked the blaster, lifting it closer to sit under the Twi’lek’s chin, “Release me. Now.”

And like most men of his ilk, he ignored you in favor of his own voice,

“From what we’ve seen, you work with the good doctor. Shouldn’t be a bother for you to fix him up. Nicer to look at too, eh fellas?” He tossed over his shoulder to the snickers of his lackeys.

“Then you can go back to target practice with your toy gun.” He chuckled darkly, leaning in where the pungent smell of his breath made you turn your head away in distaste, “That is, if we let you go at all.”

You swallowed thickly at the threat, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as your mind scrambled to come up with a solution, a way out, something. You felt the familiar sting of tears at the back of your eyes when each avenue came up blank. You couldn’t think of anything and suddenly, you felt so terribly alone in this shithole of a town on a faraway planet far from anyone who gave a bantha crap who would actually be able to help you.

Their laughter only grated on your already frayed nerves and pissed you off even more. You had fought too hard and suffered too much to let these assholes take the one thing you owned, your freedom. Your eyes flashed with anger and snapped back to the Twi’lek, ready to pull the trigger because if you were going out, it would be on your terms.

Their laughter suddenly ceased then, and you blinked. Had they copped that you planned to take at least one, maybe two of them out with you? Before you could figure it out, your arm was shoved away. You raised your now free hand to steady the blaster as you aimed it at them, but they were backing away, eyes averted.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” You growled, hiding the waver in your voice.

They said nothing in reply as the Twi’lek bared his teeth and made towards you again. One of the humans grabbed his arm and hissed something to him. You couldn’t make it all out, but you swore you heard a name you never thought you’d hear again.

Teff.

With one last growl and glare, the Twi’lek conceded to the advice of the humans and all three of them melted back into the crowds of Mynock leaving you to release a heavy breath as you lowered your weapon, replacing the safety with ease as your eyes continued to scan the street. You wanted to be certain they had really left.

“Huh, maybe they were smart after all.” You muttered to yourself, proud that you had dealt with the situation somewhat and holstered your blaster against your hip again, “Still got it girl.” You commended yourself as you stooped to pick up your dropped groceries.

A snorted, “I beg to differ” had you blinking up over your shoulder at the familiar, cocksure figure of the Mandalorian; a hand only grazing the blaster at his hip as he stood casually behind you, his head tilted down to look at you and a resounding sigh leaving his helmet when you smiled.

“Mando?”

An incline of his head was the only greeting you received before he crossed his arms across the wise expanse of his armored chest.

“One sec.”

You got back to your feet and, as if by instinct, ran your eyes over his body, “You didn’t poison yourself again, did you?” You teased lightly, realizing that you were seeing him uninjured for the first time. Well, the second time. But walking into a cantina to do battle with a Houk didn’t could in your estimation.

It gave you pause to notice things about him that you didn’t usually; the way he stood, leaning his weight back on his left foot that gave him an air of lazy arrogance that wouldn’t be misplaced in a loth-wolf relaxing in the winter sun. The strength of his thighs seems to be accentuated by the posture; one hand placed securely at his blaster. If you didn’t know any better, his stance was like an open challenge to every male around him; submit or suffer. But you did know him somewhat, and you knew that he didn’t need to lay down any challenge. He had already won the second he stepped off his ship. The wide breadth of space given to him by passers-by only highlighted that fact.

Even with every patch of skin covered, you could feel the raw power rolling off of him, or was it testosterone? Whatever it was, it tugged at a more primal instinct and ignited a slow, steady heat inside of you that made you both embarrassed and intrigued.

Okay, so you were attracted to the way the man stood. That was fine, that was acceptable. You were a warm-blooded woman in her prime who knew her desires and embraced them. Finding how a Mandalorian… stood, was just another interesting thing to add to your list of things you found attractive.

Along with a raspy baritone and penchant for trouble…

You know what, it was probably just a fantastic indication that you hadn’t been laid in a while, so you made a mental note to deal with that particular issue later.

“I never poisoned myself.” That same low, gruff voice rose to your bait so easily and you had to bite your lip not to laugh, his hand fisting at his side before he unclenched it. Probably thinking about strangling you, honestly. Now there was a thought, for later. Nope, it was definitely the recent dry spell that had you like this. And the sun. The sun always had a part to play in these delusions.

Mando seemed to figure out your game of teasing him however, when you couldn’t fully mask your smile and responded in kind,

“You’re welcome, by the way.” His voice rumbled and you were certain that if you were only a few inches closer, you would be able to feel the vibrations brush against you.

“For what?” You laughed in disbelief, “I had everything under control before you decided to strut into the fray.”

You tried to prevent the frown from creasing between your brows when you thought a little more on the situation. You had a blaster literally pointed to the neck of one of those thugs and they didn’t care. It didn’t even seem like Mando had drawn his weapon and all three had scarpered? Was there any fairness in the galaxy? Obviously not.

The unpainted helmet tilted, the impassive T-visor giving away nothing of its wearers feelings beyond the sigh that left him, “What did you plan to do? Shoot the son of a mudscuffer and have an entire gang out for blood in less than an hour? Yeah, that’s smart.” He snorted.

Your mouth fell open in incredulity, “Talk about the Jawa calling the Ewok short, you’d have done the exact same thing!” You cursed your short temper, especially when it came to the stubborn mule of a man in front of you. The fact that his voice never once rose frustrated you. It remained gravelly but soft, like the sound of pebbles and stones being pushed and pulled by the ocean you could hear from your bedroom as a child.

You were a mature person; you were proud of how you dealt with most things. But in this instance, you allowed your immature side to rear her head momentarily as you began to stalk back to the practice. A piss poor option since the Mandalorian scoffed and kept up with you easily, obviously not content with you having the last word.

“But I wouldn’t be so reckless to not think it through before shooting them.” He tipped his helmet back a little, as if he dared to look down his nose at you. Frustration simmered in your blood as your eyes narrowed at him sideways.

“I was wrong, you obviously are injured. A blow to the head this time was it, Mando? Must be hidden under that kettle you call a helmet” You let out an exasperated breath, shaking your head, “I’ve no cure for that unfortunately.”

You could have sworn you heard a soft noise that sounded remarkably like a chuckle, but it was so quiet and the streets so noisy that you were certain you were wrong.

When the door to the practice-come-living quarters for yourself and Biran came into view, you stopped short. How did you get back here so quickly? Looking over your shoulder, you realized you had led the Mandalorian on a merry chase to nowhere he needed to be. He didn’t look particularly fazed, but the small voice of guilt that sounded an awful lot like your mother had you opening your mouth before you could think twice,

“Do you want to come in?”

What possessed you to invite him in?

It was obvious from both the stilted way you asked and the drawn out, deeply awkward silence that followed. You were about to tuck tail and run inside, slam the door, and pretend you weren’t as mortified as you knew you were when he cocked his head. The movement made you pause in your escape, opening your mouth to tell him to forget about it before the words got lodged in your throat.

“Sure.” Was all he said, and that was how you found yourself staring at a fully armed Mandalorian taking up two thirds of the small settee in the living room to the back of the practice, his hands placed on each thigh as they spread a bit when he sat.

Biran, bless him, took up the last third of the same settee, unfazed by the type of man in his living room and chatting merrily about the last Mandalorian he had met over fifteen years ago.

“And that wasn’t you?”

“No.”

“Ah maybe someone you know then!”

“Maybe.”

Mando’s conversation skills were abysmal.

You didn’t have very high expectations in the first place, but watching it without being a participant, was downright comical. You hid your smile behind the glass of water you had fetched for yourself but the slight tilt of his helmet in your direction told you he had caught your amusement. For someone whose face you couldn’t see, you could practically feel his eyes narrow at you. It made the giddiness from being equal parts anxious and entertained from watching Mando try make nice with the elderly Mirialan rise again and you had to physically bite your lip to stop.

Mando wasn’t listening to Biran anymore, that much was obvious. He wasn’t even looking in his direction, more comfortable blatantly glaring at you instead. Biran was unfazed. Truly, the Mirialan didn’t need a response to have a conversation. A listening ear was sometimes all he wanted. It was a characteristic that endeared you to the him in the first place. The elderly were so often overlooked and written off, but when one only cared enough to listen, they would find themselves enriched with experiences no history book could ever compete with.

“…So how do you two know each other?”

Your attention was dragged back into the conversation so fast you might have given yourself whiplash. You blinked a few times as the Mirialan watched Mando with a clueless smile on his face, completely ignorant to the stiff body beside him.

“Coercive medical attention.” You choked a bit on the sip of water you had taken to buy yourself some time to think; coercive? That rotten---

“Ah, you were a difficult patient, were you?” Biran chuckled, knowing your methods well, “Sweet as pie if you do as your told, but the minute you resist she’ll go for you like a sand panther. I can’t imagine there was much room for bedside manners in the Rebellion, but thankfully that attitude works well in cities like Mynock.” You spluttered again, putting the glass down since it was out to get you too apparently.

Of all the treacherous--, why were you so nice to this old sod again? You would show him a sand panther when you ‘forget’ to buy his favorite tea next time you went shopping.

You seethed to yourself, leaning back in the armchair you had perched yourself on earlier, flyaway hairs from the breeze outside falling into your face which you blew away with a frustrated breath.

“Hm, a panther?” Your eyes rose as the low baritone filled the air after Biran had finished having his laugh at your expense. Mando cocked his head pensively to the side as he looked at you briefly, “More like a kitten, I’d say.” And with that, he looked away.

He didn’t bother saying anything else after that, content with letting Biran’s laughter fill the room and smother the tense silence the two of you were sitting in.

You could feel your cheeks heating up once more as you glared daggers at the tin can in front of you. Why did it feel like you were being simultaneously insulted and flirted with? You couldn’t make the distinction, so you didn’t know how to respond.

Instead, you decided to poke at a different part of the conversation.

“For someone who was coerced, you sure do find yourself on my table quick enough when you need treatment.” Your eyes ran up and down the length of his body candidly when he looked back at you, “and when you don’t need treatment, evidently.”

You smirked when the Mandalorian clenched a fist on his thigh, the third occupant in the room seemingly forgotten as Mando hissed,

“I never asked for your help.”

You scoffed and decided not to deign that with a response.

“Besides, I only stopped over for supplies and fuel.” He admitted and a treacherous part of you sunk a bit at the honesty in his voice. Seeing you was just a coincidence, like always. The unspoken words hung heavy in the air and you fought the twinge of sadness that chased you because of them.

Biran looked between the two of you before standing shakily and patting the Mandalorian on the shoulder with no hesitation, “Allow us to provide you with something extra for your travels then.” He turned his wrinkled face towards you with a smile, the deep groves of his crow’s feet increasing as he nodded to the bags of forgotten groceries, “I think our guest should try the crab. Knowing you, you bought too much as usual.”

You flushed at being caught out, were you really that predicable?

“There’s no need. I got what I came for so, I’ll be going now.” Mando stood fluidly despite his armor, and you were once again struck with how different it was seeing him injured as opposed to healthy. You felt you needed to get used to his presence all over again, with how much it filled the room.

“Thank you, for your hospitality.” He tipped his helmet towards Biran, his voice still rather gruff but laced with a polite softness uncharacteristic to him. Biran waved him off and started making his way back out to the practice when he heard the binary from his medi-droid welcoming a new patient.

That left the two of you standing in a room that suddenly felt much too small for the tension that hung around you both like a blanket. You moved into the kitchen to separate the food you would keep and the food you would give to Mando on one of the countertops, tying the bag tightly by the straps so that it stayed clean and fresh when you were done. You couldn’t hear him move, but you could feel the slight disturbance of the air when he leaned his shoulder casually against the doorframe, arms crossed enticingly once more as he watched you.

“So… what did he call you again? A sand… kitten, was it?”

“Oh, shut up.” You growled over your shoulder at him before turning and shoving the bag with two of the Berbersian crabs and some herbs you knew went well with them, into his hands.

“I don’t need these.” He held the bag out, straightening his stance as he pushed himself from the doorframe. You wisely ignored him.

“All you need is a pan. And water. And heat. Boil them and actually give your body some proper nutrients, would you?”

You explained as you began leading him out towards the private entrance of the residence, through the small kitchen and out into an alleyway that gave you an immediate sense of déjà vu the moment Mando stepped outside. The sun was still beating down and it glinted across the helmet that was becoming as recognizable as a face to you.

“In case you didn’t realize, I’m perfectly healthy.” He replied smoothly, getting his bearings as he examined the alleyway and noted the sounds from the nearby street as the direction he needed to go.

“That’d be a first.” You griped at him, but there was no venom in your words, and he knew it.

You knew he was about to leave, and the suddenness of his departure was as jarring as his arrival. You didn’t know why you felt the need to stall, and you pushed that urge down rapidly in the face of the warrior when he looked back at you from assessing the street not a few feet away.

You sighed and let out a chuckle, wondering again how this man constantly came barreling into your life, disrupting the precarious peace you had brokered while here. You might have said it was a nuisance, but deep down, you knew that he brought a breath of life back into yours every time he crossed your path, reinvigorated the aimless routine you found yourself in. It was unsettling, the way this man had wormed his way into being such a… significant presence in your life. Even after only meeting him three times and always under less than pleasant circumstances.

Part of you wanted to tell him he could stay longer if he wanted; but you knew he would refuse.

Part of you wanted to tell him to be safe; but you knew he wouldn’t be.

Part of you wanted to tell him that you would see him around; but you knew that you probably wouldn’t.

So you settled on a lackluster, “good luck on your hunt” with a small smile as a peace offering for the fraught bickering you always seemed to fall into with him. A peace offering, he seemed to accept as he lifted the bag silently and looked inside,

“Pan. Water. Heat. Right?” His own attempt made your smile grow as you chuckled and nodded,

“You got it, sunshine.”

He nodded once in affirmation while you moved around him back towards the door of the practice. For some reason, you didn’t want to watch him walk away this time. It was easier for you to leave instead. A rumble of your name from the Mandalorian had you looking over your shoulder at him questioningly, the blush that had risen to your cheeks at the sound of your name on his lips not lost on Mando. He had turned back towards you when you moved and after a beat, spoke again.

“See you next time.”

And just like that, your chest hollowed, and a warmth filled you. The weight of his words were like an embrace, a reassurance you didn’t know you needed. Had needed, for longer than you probably knew. It was something secure and encouraging in these times of change and uncertainty, and you felt yourself cling to those words like a lifeline.

The placid nod you offered him with a gentle smile was all he stuck around for. Spinning on his heels, he took off towards the streets of Mynock once more, disappearing in a flash of beskar and steel and for once, you didn’t ponder about possibly seeing him again. You knew you would.

Din settled back into the pilots’ chair of the Razor Crest twenty minutes later, running through the familiar process of flying the ship out of the atmosphere and into the comfort of space, eager to escape into hyperdrive as soon as he was clear enough from Dandoran.

See you next time?

He groaned leaned his head back against the chair, staring up at the ceiling of the cockpit, his brows drawn low over his eyes as he frowned. What possessed him to offer that promise, he didn’t know. Maybe it was the way your eyes had dimmed slightly when he was about to leave, or when you had wished him luck on a job he was still so uncertain about. Maybe it was the way you blushed when he said your name.

Or maybe it was just because he wanted to see you again too.

And that was the most troubling reason of all.

Din didn’t do friends, he had acquaintances and colleagues even if the term was tenuous. He had the covert and the foundlings, but he didn’t have people he actually wished to see. Never trusted anyone beyond what they could each offer one another. You hadn’t looked for anything from him, and it was unsettling. He didn’t know if he could trust you, years of training and experience told him otherwise. But from the old memories of you pressing Raquor’daan poison from his wound to the teasing friendship you displayed with the old Mirialan, his resolve softened a little.

His eyes flicked to the rapidly shrinking planet he was leaving.

Trust was too strong a word right now, but respect… he could admit that he respected you. And that alone put you on a very short list of people, one he was sure you would never truly understand the importance of.

And he was right.

You would never know the significance of being on that very short list of people, but in that moment, Din’s grudging respect for you set both of your lives on a very different course than either of you ever anticipated; one that revolved around a very special, very small, green child.

Once Dandoran had faded sufficiently behind the Razor Crest, he keyed in the co-ordinates to the far reaches of the Outer Rim and entered hyperspace and after several days of travel, he finally struck beskar when the tracking fob starting beeping as he coasted through space. He smirked behind his helmet as he changed direction and noted the closest planet on his navicomputer where his bounty was hidden.

Arvala-7.

Gotcha.

Stitches Taglist:

@geannad @ayamenimthiriel @sarahjkl82-blog @gracie7209 @nova646 @pychedelic-rainbow

#the mandalorian fic #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian fanfic #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin fic #din djarin #mando x reader #mando fic #mando x you #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian #mando #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal fic

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starwarstbbfan · 3 years

Text

The Bad Batch: The Runaway

Chapter 4- Comandeering the Havoc Marauder

Morning came and Callista was still wide awake despite not sleeping. She did rest a little, but didn't let herself fall completely asleep. Callista worried that if she had fallen asleep, the clones could have taken the chance to hand her off to a bounty Hunter and she would have woken up in an actual jail cell.

Callista didn't know it was morning until Tech came to check on her per Hunter's order. She wondered if any of the other members of the squadron had issues with being given orders by their brother.

When the door slid open and light flooded into the closet, Callista verbally protested by groaning.

Tech ignored this and offered use of the refresher, which Callista obviously accepted, with the request of her back pack that had extra clothes and a comb.

She didn't realize how dirty she actually was until she looked in the small mirror above the equally small sink. There was dirt and grime on her face and neck, and her hair was like a mynocks nest.

Callista cleaned up a bit by splashing water on her face and then she changed into some clean clothes. The clothes she wore now were the same ones she crash landed on this planet with. She also ran a comb through her dark brown hair. That was all she could do really, but the fresh clothes and brushed hair that was put into a side braid made Callista feel so much better already.

It appears Tech must have been assigned to watch Callista because when she exited the bathroom he was still there, annoyed but ready with the binders to put back on her wrists.

Tech wasn't so enthusiastic about being left with a sassy teenager, but Hunter pulled the Sargeant card and he was forced to comply.

The two went into the cockpit where Tech was running a diagnostic scan of the ship. Callista sat boredly in the co-pilot chair, wishing someone would shoot her and put her out of her misery. Sitting and doing nothing was torture for the girl.

Callista sighed and decided to put her legs up to rest on the console, making Tech frown. He snapped his fingers at her.

"Feet. Off." He ordered and Callista rolled her eyes but set her feet back on the ground just as Hunter walked in.

"How's it going in here?"

"I'm running a final scan to make sure everything is alright for take off. We should be ready in about five minutes." Tech informed. Hunter nodded while Callista was taken aback. She didn't realize they'd be leaving the planet today.

"Good." Hunter did a side glance at Callista who was too distracted by the sudden news to notice and cleared his throat uncomfortably, "And uh, what about the other thing?" He asked in a quieter voice.

"If you're referring to the bounty hunters, I've contacted a few but none are willing to come so far out, or even meet halfway." Tech informed in a normal tone, making Hunter roll his eyes. But Tech continued, "Unfortunately the price on her head isn't worth flying all the way here. It would barely pay for the fuel." Hunter pondered this and Callista watched him from the corner of her vision, wondering what he'd say. He sighed.

"Then I guess we'll have to take her to Coruscant ourselves. I checked, we have enough fuel. I'll tell the other guys we're preparing for take off."

"I'm so glad you guys think I'm worth the trip. But I wouldn't expect a medal if I were you."

"Don't be ridiculous. Clones don't receive medals for turning in delinquent teenagers." Tech said, not seeming to hear the sarcasm in her tone.

"Delinquent, wow. That's a fancy word. Never been called that."

"You know, you're pretty calm for someone who's about to go to prison." Tech commented and Callista smiled thinly at him.

"I'm sorry, would you prefer I drop to my knees and beg for you to let me go?" Callista retorted.

"Alright, knock it off." Hunter told Callista sternly, having grown tired of her sarcasm and stubbornness. "And find someplace else to sit, Wrecker is the co-pilot."

Callista rolled her eyes and went to sit in the seat behind Tech's. Thirty seconds later Wrecker came into the cockpit along with Crosshair, who stopped next to the seat Callista was in.

"You're in my seat." He told her plainly. Callista raised an eyebrow.

"And?"

"Move." Crosshair ordered in a harsher tone, thinking it would intimidate the girl. But it didn't.

"Make me." Callista challenged and Crosshair snarled while turning to Hunter.

"Can't she go back into the closet?" He asked the sergeant stiffly.

Everyone was looking at Hunter now, waiting for his answer. Eventually Hunter shrugged.

"Alright." He said. Callista couldn't stop her jaw from dropping. It should have been harder for him to make a decision, but it took only five seconds!

The smug smirk Crosshair gave Callista made her want to strangle him. If only she wasn't wearing cuffs...

Crosshair grabbed Callista by the arm and pulled her to her feet.

"You know on some planets this would be considered child abuse." Callista said over her shoulder to Hunter as she was dragged out of the cockpit by the sniper. But Hunter didn't reply and Crosshair chuckled which made Callista glare at the man.

------------------------------

Callista sighed as the door shut and she heard the lock engage. At least now that she was alone, she could unlock the handcuffs that were hurting her wrists. All she needed was a bobby pin, and Callista always made sure to have one handy.

After taking the one that pinned back her outgrown bangs, she managed to unlock the cuffs in less than a minute.

About five minutes later, Callista felt the ship move and eventually it went into hyperspace judging by the way Callista was almost knocked down from the sudden change of speed.

Now that Callista was off that desolate planet, she needed to figure out a way to commandeer the ship. Callista rubbed her left wrist as she thought about where to go. She'd have to set a new course, but where? Pantora might be a good place.

Callista looked at the control pad for the door. Rewiring it would be no trouble, in fact Callista could do it with her eyes closed. Her hands drifted up to the panel, but they stopped about halfway as a thought came to mind. It could have an alarm that would go off if Callista opened it. Plus, the door was pretty loud, a sign that it needed a repair.

Callista bit her lip as she thought of an alternative. Her eyes wandered around the small closet, hoping to get an idea. Then a smile broke out on her face when she spotted an air vent partially hidden behind a crate. She found it last night and now saw it as a way out. She was quick to move the crate aside before getting on her hands and knees.

Callista made her way into the vent as quietly as she could, thankful that the low hum of the ship flying through hyperspace could drown out any noise she happened to make. She would be more quiet than a metal door at least.

Callista could barely get her small form into the vent and did her best to army crawl or at the very least shimmy her way through the enclosed space.

It took about ten minutes before Callista reached one of the ventilation shafts due to her moving slowly so as to minimize the amount of noise.

Callista breathed a sigh of relief when she was able to crawl out of the vent. She wound up in another small storage closet.

Suddenly Callista realized that she didn't have a plan for taking out the clones. When she saw a blaster sitting atop a crate, a light bulb went off. With the element of surprise, she might be able to stun them all before they have a chance to know what hit them.

After checking to see if the blaster was charged- it was- Callista made her way to the door that by chance had been left open.

Callistas footsteps were almost nonexistent, and she briefly patted herself on the back for being so good at staying quiet. It was one of the few things that made her feel less like a failure. It was a skill that's helped her survive. Even though Callista was proficient in using practically any weapon, she preferred using her brains and knack for being stealthy. Blasters weren't always reliable, but Callista's mind and body were.

Callista stopped about twenty feet from the closed door that led to the cockpit. Maybe she should get one or two of them out here by making some noise and then with the door open she can rush in and knock out the others. But if all came in at once, she'd be in trouble.

Maybe she didn't have to create a huge ruckus. Maybe just a small noise that only Hunter could hear and lure him out and Crosshair might follow him as back up.

Drawing in a deep breath, Callista made sure her weapon was set to stun and cleared her mind. She moved to the side where the clones wouldn't see her unless they actually entered the cabin area. Then, she deliberately elbowed the wall, but not too loud. Just enough to sound suspicious and get Hunter's attention.

Callista held her breath and could feel her heart beating in her ears as she waited for something to happen. After about ten seconds Callista wondered if she'd need to be a little louder, but then the door slid open and she peaked and saw that to her relief, both Hunter and Crosshair came out.

Their eyes scanned the cabin, but Callista managed to shoot two stun blasts before they spotted her. Callista made a run for the cockpit before the two even hit the ground.

Both Tech and Wrecker had turned upon hearing someone run in, but Callista succeeded in knocking them both out before they had time to process what was happening. Callista shot Tech first, then fired two blasts at Wrecker since he was a big guy and one might not have been enough.

"Sorry boys, but I'm not going to jail." Callista said, smirking at their unconscious forms. This was too easy.

After setting the weapon in Hunter's seat, Callista grabbed Tech by the arms and proceeded to drag him out of the pilot seat and out of the cockpit, depositing his unconscious forms by Hunter and Crosshair. Even though Callista was strong, she still found herself breathing heavily after doing that.

Her mind wandered to Wrecker and how much harder it would be getting him out here. Callista decided she'd keep him where he was and just knock him out when he'd start waking up.

But she couldn't be in here to keep an eye on the other three. She found herself smirking when an idea came to mind.

About twenty minutes later, Callista had all three men locked in the closet they so generously offered to her. With the vent in there, she knew they'd still get air circulation and not die. Not only that, but they were stripped of all their weapons and even their comms she took away. And since there was only one control pad located on the outside of the closet, Tech couldn't mess with the settings to unlock the door, especially since Callista fired a shot that fried the circuits.

Callista found herself quite pleased with how well everything worked out.

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Continue to Chapter 5

#star wars #crosshair tbb #hunter tbb #hunter the bad batch #star wars bad batch #tech tbb #tech the bad batch #wrecker tbb #wrecker the bad batch #clone trooper crosshair #clone trooper wrecker #clone trooper tech #star wars clone oc #star wars tbb #star wars clone wars #clone wars

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sserpente · 7 years

Photo

A/N: Request from anon. Two in one. Have fun! ;-)

Words: 1998 Warnings: violence and smut

“C’mon, pumpkin, don’t fall back!“ Harley purred with a cheeky smile as she looked back over her shoulder. You rolled your eyes defiantly. There was a reason you were falling back, for ever since you had involuntarily joined the infamous Suicide Squad, the whole team was treating you like a child. Maybe you were the youngest of them all but that didn’t mean you were less experienced. You’d survived bombs, a war and the worst prison in America and you hadn’t lost your mind yet. Well… yet. It would happen soon if they kept treating you like a spoiled teenager.

“Don’t call me pumpkin…” You growled to yourself quietly, your steel grip around your weapon of choice tightening as you did and the corners of your mouth twitching and forming a reluctant smile. The only thing keeping you from lashing out was Harley Quinn herself. Ironic, wasn’t it? A mad woman killing like a bounty hunter who regularly managed to get under your skin with her ridiculous nicknames for you… was the one person that stopped you from fleeing and stepping away from this bunch of madmen.

You had laid your eyes on her ever since you had first joined the Squad. She was beautiful—her blue eyes, her crazy make-up, her blonde hair and that gorgeous body of hers… only once, you had caught a glimpse of her underwear: red and seductive, complimenting her curves and her full breasts…

Shaking your head, you bit your lower lip. No. You mustn’t feel this way about her, you couldn’t! She was the Joker’s girlfriend, for Fuck’s sake! If he found out you were fancying his girl, he would kill you with a snap of his fingers! Still, however, you couldn’t help your feelings. Harley was wonderful. A bit crazy, maybe but then again… weren’t you all? Jesus, you didn’t even know if she was into girls as well, apart from that she acted as if you were her child!

So were you? A child? No, certainly not. It was time to finally do something and prove them all you were more than just a silly teenager. It was time you showed recklessness. You just hoped you wouldn’t get yourself killed in the process.

She was looking at you. She was actually looking at you, watching you with admiration sparkling in her pretty blue eyes! Harley pouted in an acknowledging manner when you flung your daggers through the air, attacking creature after creature instead of staying in the background like you usually would.

Before, you had had no reason to risk your life for the good of the country. Who were you to do that, after all? If you died, nobody would cry for you, no one would mourn and certainly nobody would thank you for what you had done to save the world. Amanda Waller had proven that when Chato sacrificed himself to save you all.

The reason you were putting your heart and soul into this fight was, solely, Harley. To impress her, to make sure she finally noticed you. And today, so it seemed, she finally did. You resisted the urge to wink as you killed off another enemy and then jumped on top of a battered car to pull out your gun. Similar to Harleys, it was individually decorated and handy. You pulled the trigger just in time, aiming for a creature’s head attempting to attack your crush from behind. When you jumped down again, doing a flip just for the fun of it, you landed right on another one, twisting off its head with a cruel expression on your face. Oh yes. You’d been kept in prison for a reason. You were dangerous and today, your colleagues should finally see that too. Today, Harley should see that too.

It took thirty more minutes to eliminate all attackers. Panting and out of breath, the whole Squad, including you, sank to the ground and leaned against debris or destroyed cars to calm their nerves.

“Holy fuckin’ shit, did yah take some anabolic drugs before this fight, (Y/N)?” Boomerang sneered, grinning wildly as he collected one of his precious metal weapons and tugged them back safely on the inside of his leather coat.

Shrugging, you lifted your chain, your gaze inconspicuously wandering over to Harley, who was sitting right opposite you. She was staring at you in awe, a shit-eating grin plastered on her face. Her eyes were glistening with… what was it? A promise? Desire? You couldn’t quite tell but if it was what you hoped it was, then risking your life today had actually been worth it. Now waiting patiently was the only thing you could do.

“We should go and find a safe place to crash. I don’t know about you guys but I need a break.” Deadshot declared, getting up again to look around. Gotham was a mess right now, there was no way in hell he would find a “safe place”. Still, none of you argued with him. Keeping close to Harley, you followed him to an old and abandoned building—several floors of offices, empty and cold. Well, it was as good as it would get. You would all need the sleeping bags you had packed in case of a scenario like this one. So much for being a stupid teenager. They would all be lying on the cold ground tonight if you hadn’t used your brain.

“You brought sleeping bags?” Flag asked hopefully. You nodded.

The only problem was that you had only four of them. For Killer Croc it was no big deal. He would sleep in a puddle if need be, that was the advantage that came with being a crocodile-like… whatever he was.

Then, surely, Deadshot and Flag would take one for themselves. Boomerang was a filthy thief, he wouldn’t relinquish either and—

“We’re both small enough, we’ll fit in one, pumpkin,” Harley suddenly chirped, shrugging her shoulders as if arguing about who would get a sleeping bag was utterly redundant. Well, maybe it was, for your heart skipped a beat upon hearing her words.

Being this close to Harley for the whole night… it was going to be a much bigger challenge than sharing a sleeping bag. How would you possibly keep your hands to yourself? Not that you wanted to. But if you scared her away or made her angry, things wouldn’t exactly end well for you either. Luckily, she’d been the one to suggest sharing.

“Alright then, spread. And good night,” Much to everyone’s surprise, this time the Squad obliged to Flag’s order. Armed with their sleeping bags, they made themselves comfortable all over the office, hidden under desks and behind broken photocopiers. There was so much space, with the lights out, no one was able to see one another and within mere moments, you could hear the first people snoring. Boomerang, probably. He was most likely using his unicorn plush toy as a pillow.

“C’mon, pumpkin, let’s get comfortable,” Harleys voice was so close to your ear that you could feel her hot breath in your neck. A shiver ran up and down your spine as you nodded into the dark and let her take your hand to guide you over to the place she had chosen to sleep in. It was perfect. Close to a window to enable a quick escape and shielded from everyone else’s unwanted gaze. Damn it. Again, you bit your lower lip. You were not going to chicken out now, were you?

Harley grinned as you crawled into the sleeping bag.

“Let’s stay warm, shall we, pumpkin?” She joined you only seconds later, her petite arms snaking around your waist to pull you closer when she did. Instantly, you turned around, hoping to face her but it was too dark for that. The only thing confirming you your face was right before hers, was her cool breath blowing on your moist lips. By now, your heart was pounding like a steam hammer.

“You were quite brave today,” she murmured quietly. Her hand trailed down to your hips, one of her legs wrapping around yours. “I always knew you had it in you.”

“Brave? Harley… I just… I didn’t want to be so reckless, I do value my life.” You whispered equally quiet. “You guys treated me like a child and I was sick of it. Maybe I just wanted you to notice me…” You admitted timidly, your eyes darting around in the dark. There. You’d said it. This was the only way to do it, after all, right? If she wasn’t into you as much as you were into her, this was the most secure way to not get killed by her crazy boyfriend.

“Shhhh, I know…” She soothed, stroking your hips as she did until you gasped. Wait, what? She knew? Harley giggled. “I used to be a psychiatrist, you know. I recognised the looks you kept giving me when you thought I wasn’t looking.”

You were about to protest when suddenly, her soft lips were on yours. She was kissing you gently, her hands sliding under your shirt to caress your skin. Harley’s tongue pushed into your mouth dominantly, not leaving you the chance to pull back and stop this. Oh, but she knew you wouldn’t want to. Instead, you were eager to kiss her back and arched your back to grant her more access when her hand started trailing downwards to disappear in your pants. Quickly, she fought the panties blocking her way, the fraction of a second later already, she was teasing your folds.

A soft moan escaped your lips when you felt her cool fingers touching you there.

“Quiet, pumpkin, we don’t want the others knowing what we’re doing here, now do we?” She said as she pulled away from your lips. You could tell she was grinning into the dark when you bit your lower lip to prevent another moan echoing through the office. Harley was giving you a hard time. Gently, she parted your folds to gain access to your slit, ascertaining with pride that you were wet already. She chuckled quietly before collecting some of your slick arousal on her fingers to spread it all over your clit and then proceeded to stroke your nub in a circular motion, massaging you until you were sure to see stars.

Was this real? Were you dreaming? Harley and you, cuddling in a sleeping bag on the fucking ground, with her secretly pleasuring you?

Your orgasm was building quickly. Knowing that it was Harley that brought you to the edge of this bliss was so overwhelming, you almost lost your mind in that tight sleeping bag. Growing even wetter, you tensed, your fingers searching for something to dig into in vain. Harley chuckled again when she noticed your fight against your loss of composure, stroking your sensitive bundle of nerves even faster until you were but a writhing mess beside her. She made sure to push two fingers inside you then, pumping them in and out over and over again and teasing your g spot relentlessly. It was like she knew exactly what would bring you the most pleasure.

“Harley…” Her name spilled from your lips like a prayer, like she was the only one that could save you. She was, in a way. If she pulled away now, you would scream.

“Are you going to cum?” She asked, smirking for sure. You only managed to nod, almost choking on your breathless yes as you climaxed, shaking violently next to her body. You bit your lower lip so hard you could taste blood as your orgasm washed over you, wave after wave of pleasure robbing all of your senses.

Harley made sure to help you ride out your high before she pulled away, giggling sneakily in the process.

“You make such cute noises when you cum,” she taunted. “I can’t wait to hear them again. This is going to be a long night, pumpkin.”

#harley quinn #harley quinn imagine #harley quinn x reader #harley quinn x you #suicide squad #suicide squad imagine #suicide squad smut #harley quinn smut #margot robbie #dc #dc imagine

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