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flowersforjude · 3 days

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𝐕𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐃𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 ≈ 𝐢. 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫

❛ 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘥𝘥𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘣𝘦❜

﹙finnick odair x oc!fem reader﹚

﹙next chapter ➵ masterlist﹚┈﹙read on ao3 ➵ read on wattpad﹚

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | canon typical violence, slight self-injury, mentions of death, etc.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 2.8 k

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 | I've been working on this for little over a year now. I've posted all current chapters on Wattpad and AO3. I thought I might as well post it here too. This chapter was really just for scene setting and character introduction. The juicer stuff is in upcoming chapters. Hope you enjoy!!

The crunching of gravel beneath hundreds of feet echoed through district four in a sorrowful song. Each pair of feet belonged to a different person with their own story. Each pair was distinct from the one beside them, in front of them, or behind them. But today they were all moving in the same direction, for the same reason. Today they all had one thing in common. They were all reluctantly marching towards the Justice Building because today was the reaping for the annual Hunger Games. They were hesitant, and yet everyone walked steadily on their path without complaint, as if resigned to their fate.

I walked with my mother Camilla, my father Lyle, and my little sister Shae. We are silent as we make our way to the growing crowd of people in front of the Justice Building. Today was not the day for idle conversation. Today was the day for fear or for hope. Fear that your name would be called. Hope that it wouldn't, or that some other unlucky child would be forced to go to their deaths.

This morning, as I got ready, I found myself sitting in the bath longer than necessary. I watched with blank eyes as I dipped my hand down into the cooling water and lifted it back out. Droplets of water raced down the back of my hand until they faded out like one of the many lives taken by the games every year.

The longer I sat in the cold tub of water, the harder it became to keep my mind focused on the small things. Like how shivers ran races down my spine or how my damp hair rested limply on my shoulders. No matter how hard I tried, my thoughts wouldn't stay simple for long. Soon they morphed into debilitating notions of blood and death. My mind ran rampant with scenes of tributes dying in brutal and messy ways.

Now as my feet crunched gravel under my soles, my brain created new ideas of torment. Shae turned twelve this year, and that meant it was her first Reaping Day where her name was in the drawing. It was only once, I kept telling myself. She wouldn't be picked. But the odds never favored ones in our position.

"This is where we go our separate ways." My mother said when we reached the point where we had to split up. I could see unshed tears making her brown eyes glossy as she pulled me and Shae into a hug. She kissed both our cheeks before stepping aside for our father.

"Be brave, girls." He told us and then bent down to hug Shae. When he straightened up, he pulled me in and squeezed. He gave me a kiss on the cheek before he stepped away completely.

"After the reaping, we met back here, and we'll go home." My mom said firmly, as if cementing the idea that both of her daughters would be returning to her. She wiped away a few tears that managed to sneak their way down her cheeks. "We love you both."

"We love you too," I replied.

My parents went off to the area where the adults watched. Watched as two kids were chosen to fight to the death. Shae and I walked on together, our breaths shallow with fear and anticipation. As we approached the spot where our paths diverged, I turned to say goodbye. Her eyes flickered over to me as if to plead for escape. She switched her gaze to her line, staring at it like a slithering viper ready to strike if she dared take even one step closer.

"Shae?" I dropped down to her height.

She started shaking her head, and her pink lips began to wobble. "I can't, Lyssa. I'm scared."

I gave her a sympathetic look and smoothed down her hair with my hands. "I know you're scared, but your name is only in there once. The odds of you being chosen are slim."

She inhaled deeply, her chestnut eyes still wide and fearful. I pulled her close and breathed into her hair the words of reassurance that she needed. I cupped her face in my hands, gave her a gentle nod of encouragement, and watched as she tentatively stepped away from me and towards the other children. It took everything in me not to grab the back off her dress and run.

I took my place in line with the other seventeen-year-olds and watched as the people in front of me got their fingers pricked by an intimidating looking woman.

As the seconds ticked by like the timer on a bomb, it grew harder to breathe. The nerves I chained down all this morning fighting their way up. An anchor pressed down on my chest, weighing my whole form down as it rested in the sand of the sea. I couldn't look scared. I knew it made no difference whether or not my fear was visible. If my name was called, then that was that. But I didn't want anyone to view me as weak. Even if that's what I was in reality.

My feet shuffled forward as the line flowed. The girl in front of me gasped loudly as her blood was drawn. In seconds, she was moving out of the line, and it was my turn.

"Next!" The woman called. "Name?"

"Lyssa Monroe."

She looked down the list till she landed on my name. She silently held out her hand, and I held my pointer finger out to her. She pricked it, but I barely registered the small pain; I was too focused on staying calm. She smeared my blood on multiple sheets of paper; in a way, she just sighed my possible death certificate. Those slips of paper will be sent to the big glass bowl, whose only purpose was to hand out death sentences. And I stood a chance of being called. I wonder if that bothers her. That by doing this job, she's sending kids to their deaths. I wonder how she feels or if she feels anything at all. Maybe she didn't; maybe you have to be void of emotion to do this job.

When she called for the next person, I stepped out of the way and went to stand with my age group. I pressed my still bleeding finger into the fabric of my dress. It was the nicest clothing item I owned, and I hated it. I wore it on reaping day and reaping day only. The atrocious piece of material served as a reminder of the worst days of my life. Days filled with fear and dread. The only thing I felt when I looked at it was anguish.

I didn't know any of the girls I was standing with, so I searched the crowd for Shae. I found her standing between two girls her age, but she was so small compared to them.

I caught her eyes and sent her a smile and a wink. I tried to look carefree for her even if my stomach was twisting in rough knots. Something was off; I could feel it in the pit of my stomach, swirling around like unruly waves in a storm. No matter how much I attempted to convince myself otherwise, today was not going to have a good outcome. But Shae needed me to reassure her so she wouldn't break down. I knew she was scared. This was her first year in the drawing; her name was only in once, but it was that one chance that kept her up all last night.

I dug my nails into the palm of my hand. The sharp pain of them digging into my skin was enough to ground me for now.

Sabine Glass, our district escort, strutted out from the Justice Building, and we all focused our attention on her. She had the usual bold and careless air about her as clicked her way to center stage. With each step, her dress glistened in the sun, its green sequins catching the light like tiny mirrors. Around her neck hung a necklace of bronzy-white seashells that matched her earrings, bracelets. The same shells were intricately woven into her updo. Her shoes were the same color as her dress and had heels so long that I wondered how on earth she even managed to walk on stage without falling.

She cleared her throat into the microphone, getting the attention of the crowd. "Welcome! People of District four, to the reaping of the 70th Hunger Games! I know we're all very excited to see who our tributes will be this year, but before that, we have a presentation from the esteemed President Snow!"

The crowd clapped with a small fraction of Sabine's enthusiasm. four was a career district, but only half the population fell into that category. So some of the citizens had pride for this whole charade, but the hatred and fear of the other half far outweighed that misguided respect for the games.

Two huge black screens were set up on either side of the building, and with Sabine's cue, they started to play the origin video of The Hunger Games. We were made to watch this video every reaping day, year after year. It was to remind us of the horror before the games so we wouldn't want to rebel again. When the video was over, Sabine began clapping, and slowly, the crowd reluctantly joined in.

"That was spectacular!" Sabine cheered into the microphone. "Let's begin, shall we? As per usual, ladies first!"

She walked over to the glass bowl and swirled her hand around in it, meticulously searching for the right slip of paper. The tension of the crowd was palpable. Everyone was still and the quietness was suffocating. My heart raced in my chest, like I had just gotten done for a swim and was laying on the warm sand of the beach, soaking up the sun's rays. Though even after all the time I spent out there, my skin stayed its same pale shade.

Sabine plucked out a slip of paper and pranced back over to the microphone. As she neatly unfolded it, my nails racked deeper into my palm, digging into my skin until I felt a slight trickle of blood flow down my palm. My ears clouded with the sound of adrenaline, and only Sabine's shrill voice brought my senses back to me.

"Lyssa Monroe!"

My heart stopped along with everything else as the blaring silence rang in my ears. Chills ran down my body, and the blood froze in my veins. I didn't move; I couldn't move. The girls around me murmured amongst themselves and stared at my unmoving body with sympathy and selfish relief.

"Lyssa Monroe?" Sabine spoke again, this time as a question.

The girls parted like a great wave, creating an aisle for me to walk through. The first step I took was unintentional, but it was like my body had switched to autopilot. My legs numbly carried me all the way to the stage. I didn't raise my head until I walked up the steps and was in front of the crowd.

As I lifted my eyes, the sun seemed brighter than before, momentarily blinding me. When they adjusted, my eyes met the crowd of my fellow District four members.

I found my parents in the cluster of adults. My mother had her face buried in my father's chest. Even from here, I could see her shoulders shaking with uncontrollable sobs. My father's face was set hard, but I knew he was trying to keep his tears reigned in.

I turned my attention to Shae, who had pushed her way to the front of her section. Her tiny hands held the barricade in a death grip. Her cheeks were red and stained with tears.

Sabine shoved the microphone at my face, and only then did I realize she had asked me something.

"What?" I muttered dumbly.

"I asked how old you were, dear."

"I'm seventeen," I mumbled.

Sabine took the microphone back and placed her hand on her heart. "And how lovely you are, my dear."

She turned back to the audience, clapping her hands. "Now for the gentleman." She glided over to the bowl that held the boys' names. She repeated the same swirling hand movements around the glass until she snatched up a slip of paper.

She cleared her throat before reading the name. "Hector May!"

A gasp rang out among the crowd, and even me in my numbed state lifted my eyes in surprise. Hector May was Mayor Walim May's son. Of course, being the child of the mayor didn't exclude you from the reaping, but they were rarely chosen. That's why everyone had started to murmur amongst themselves as Hector slowly made his way up to the stage.

He looked behind him at his father. The mayor tried not to show any emotion at his son being reaped, but I saw how his jaw clenched and his hands began to subtly shake in his lap.

"What an interesting turn of events!" Sabine exclaimed. "How old are you, dearie?"

"Eighteen." Hector answered in a deep monotone voice.

"And you're the mayor's son, correct?"

"Yes."

Sabine laughed almost giddily. "What a wonderful pair we have here." She motioned for us to shake hands. We both moved forward and grasped the other's hand as Sabine addressed the crowd. "Ladies and gentlemen, I have the pleasure of presenting to you your District four tributes for the 70th annual Hunger Games!"

━

We were marched in silence down a long hallway, escorted by a couple of stern-faced peacekeepers. Hector and I were taken to separate rooms, mine with harsh fluorescent lights that cast everything in a painful brightness. The stark and sterile air felt suffocating as I helplessly waited for what was next. I shifted nervously on the hardwood chair, tracing small circles onto its smooth surface while my leg anxiously bounced up and down. Even pinching myself couldn't make this nightmare go away. My throat tightened in despair while tears stung my eyes.

A creak of the door handle made me jump, and I scrambled to my feet. My parents and Shae entered the room, their faces blurry with emotion. We raced towards each other, a tangle of limbs that collapsed into a heap on the floor. Someone was sniffling, and it took me a moment to realize it was me.

My father wiped the tears off my face and placed his hands on my shoulders. "Everything will be alright." He stated calmly like there was nothing to worry about.

I looked at him in disbelief. "Dad, how can you say that?"

He sighed. "I know you're scared, sweetie. But you can't let your fear control you. You're going to be fine because you're going to win."

"How? I can't–" I couldn't even finish my sentence. How could my father be so sure, so calm?

"Lyssa." My mother said, clearing the tears from her eyes. "Your father is right. I know you're scared, but you can't think about that right now."

"What do I do?" I asked helplessly.

My father was the one to answer. "Find a weapon that fits you. One that's easy for you to use but effective. Try throwing knives. You were always good with those."

"Okay." I nodded along with him.

"You have to come back, Lyssa." Shae blurted out.

I looked down at her small frame and immediately drew her to me. "I promise I will try my hardest." I said into her hair. My lips connected with the top of her head as her arms tightened around me.

The door opened again, and the peacekeepers came in. "Time's up." One of them said.

We hugged each other one last time before one of the peacekeepers escorted them out. They all called their last farewells as they were moved out of my view.

"Be brave, Lyssa! Remember what I said!"

"Win, so you come back home!"

"We love you, sweetheart!"

There was one peacekeeper left in the room with me. "It's time to board the train, Miss Monroe," he said.

I nodded and hesitantly followed him out into the hallway, where Sabine and Hector stood waiting.

"Now then, you're both very excited, I'm sure, so let's hurry along. The Capitol awaits!" Sabine sang, genuinely excited, with a smile plastered on her face. I tried to tell myself it was just because she was from the Capitol and didn't really know any better. Though, as she led a silent Hector and I away, I couldn't help but feel disgust towards her. She was voluntarily escorting us to our deaths.

My face remained blank as we boarded the train. The odds were never on my side, and they never would be.

Let me know in the comments if you'd like to be added to the tag list for this story! <3

#ˏ*ೃ➵violent delights #the hunger games #finnick odair #finnick odair x oc #finnick odair x reader #thg #thg fanfiction #fanfiction #finnick odair fanfic #thg finnick #thg series #the hunger games catching fire #the hunger games mockingjay #friends to lovers #mentor x mentee #slow burn

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flowersforjude · 3 months

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𝐇𝐚𝐥𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐅𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 | Din Djarin x Fem!Reader

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | It happens slowly, falling in love with him. Then again, sometimes it feels like you’re a comet falling through space.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 6,371

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | Fluff, uh violence like it gets a bit heavy, physical contact, nothing really suggestive (that comes later hehehe)

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 | This will be the first part of a little three-part thing. Hope you enjoy!

masterlist | read on ao3

He seemed to find every opportunity to touch you. It wasn’t very noticeable at first, but as time went on, you took note of how often his arm brushed across your own as he moved past you. How a subtle hand gave pressure to your back as he slipped around you. How his shoulder almost melded with yours as you walked around whichever planet you were on at the moment.

You tried to pinpoint when these secret touches began, but they happened so frequently that you struggled to come up with an accurate date. Maybe they’d always been there, and you just now realized them. But you found it hard to believe they’d only just come to your attention. You were always aware of him when he was close. He was too magnetic to just ignore.

After a while, the confusion over the touches themselves gave way to confusion over the fact that he wasn’t actively trying to hide them.

Maker, it annoyed you to all ends. How he was free to send tingles through you, but all you were able to do was feel the scratch of fabric. The way he caressed your skin made you lose breath at times, and that in itself was annoying as well. You wanted so desperately to give him the same rushing emotions he gave you, but you knew his armor was a part of his creed. In a way, it was a part of him as a whole. The silver gleam of his beskar was what made the Mandalorian the Mandalorian.

You cared for him too much to even think about disrespecting his beliefs. That didn’t mean the deep-rooted longing in your heart wasn’t there, though. You were acutely aware that the second your heartbeat started to flip in your chest at the feeling of his touches, things would become increasingly more complicated.

Today had been uneventful, which was rare. You’d cared for the child all day on the lower level of the ship, giving Mando some alone time in the cockpit. The creature in question was fighting his sleep. You swore he had to be tired by now. As the hours passed by, you could tell the green child was growing sleepy. His little hands rubbed at his eyes, but he fought to stay awake.

You knew he wouldn’t be able to fall asleep by himself if you put him in his pod, so you rocked him back and forth in your arms. Hoping the movement would lull him to sleep. Eventually, he yawned, and his eyes slowly closed, signaling he was finally in the land of dreams.

You took a moment to gaze down at him, admiring how peaceful he looked.

The affection you carried for this strange little creature was more welcome than whatever was going on between you and Mando. The maternal love you had for the child was manageable and embraced by both you and him. The overwhelming emotions you felt for Mando were uncertain and saddening. All because you didn’t know if they were felt by him too.

You turned away from the sleeping child, almost colliding with an armored chest. A startled gasp leaves you as you catch yourself with your hands grazing the coldness of beskar. With your palms pressed to his chest, you were unable to step away. Your mind goes blank but starts to race with millions of thoughts at the same time. You momentarily think about how you didn’t even hear him come down from above. The thought is thrown aside quickly, though, as you open your mouth to apologize.

“Sorry.” You said your voice not going above a whisper in fear of waking the child. “Kids asleep.” You followed up when Mando peaked over your shoulder to glance at the creature.

Nodding, Mando finally moves, saving you from finding the strength to do it yourself. “Thanks for putting him down tonight.”

And sure enough, his hand finds its way to your hip as he passes by you to get to his bunk. The heavy press of his hand pierced your skin and made your breath catch in your throat. For a split second, with his warmth spreading through you, you were sure the feeling of his touch was how galaxies collided. All at once, and then gone. Over, like it had never been.

─

You had volunteered to go to the marketplace to get a few supplies. Mando hadn’t been very keen on letting you go by yourself, but you’d reasoned that it’d be easier for you to go and get back quickly. His armor, while coming in handy most of the time, tended to draw attention. The ship only needed a few things, and all of you making the trek into town wasn’t necessary.

You assured him you would only be an hour, two at most. And you were making good time, much to your satisfaction. With the last of the supplies purchased, you made your way out of the market with your bag of provisions slung over your shoulder.

You were just trying to remember where you came in when you saw shadows slink by near you, trailing behind you. The shadows hid themselves well, but you noticed them anyway. They were trying to be sneaky, and you probably wouldn’t have caught them before. But your months of traveling with Mando and always being on high alert had heightened your senses. You hurried deeper into the crowd, hoping to lose them among the swell of people. You glanced over your shoulder, not being able to find your stalker. You thought you’d managed to get away, but when you turned your attention forward, you crashed into someone.

The next thing you know, your body is being slammed against the side of a building. Your eyes dart around, and you notice there are two men now.

“No big bad Mandalorian to protect you now.” One of them snarled, yanking the bag from your grasp.

He dug through the bag, and you realized he was probably looking for the kid. You attempt to gather your thoughts. One of the men stood to your left, and the other stood closely to your right. They were blocking you in; there was no way for you to run.

“Where’s the child?” The one with your bag demanded, tossing the item to the ground. When you didn’t answer, he grabbed your shoulders, pinning you to the rough brick of the building. You gulped in an effort to push down your fear. You had to keep a clear head, stay focused.

“Where’s the child?” The man questioned again, digging his fingers into your shoulders painfully.

“I don’t have any children,” you said. You masked your expression with confusion. Maybe if you played dumb, you could convince them they had the wrong person.

"We know you're with the Mandalorian.” The man to your right grumbled, a wide grin stretching across his lips. “We know you know where the kid is, so just tell us.”

There was no fooling these men. They knew who you were, and there was no way you were getting out of here without putting up a fight.

Your face hardened, and you lunged at the man, landing a punch to his face. He reeled back, cursing while holding a bleeding nose. You dart forward, trying to escape through the space the man left. His friend managed to grab hold of the back of your shirt, pulling you back to them. You spun around in the man’s grasp and kicked his legs, which gave out beneath him with a sickening crunch. You didn’t spare them any more time as you turned and ran.

You got a few good feet before a sharp, burning pain shot out from your side. You tried to keep running, but the ache in your side made it difficult. You glanced down, and the fabric of your shirt was already soaking in blood. You pressed a hand to your wound, and bit back a yelp of agony. Thinking you were home-free, you slowed down a bit.

That was your fatal mistake.

Rough hands yanked you backwards by your hair. You had no time to recover or even notice the alarming amount of blood seeping through the fingers of your hand still over the blaster shot as a hit landed to your jaw. Arms wound themselves around you, pinning your arms to your chest. The man you’d kicked stood in front of you. He reared back his fist before it made contact with your cheek. A gasp of pain escaped your mouth. You were unable to keep quiet as you were assaulted by blow after blow of violent hits.

Your vision grew spotty, and it became challenging to keep yourself conscious. You were weighing the options of trying to stay awake or just letting yourself slip into the blackness that beckoned you when your assailant seemed to be flown backwards by some unknown force. The heavy arms around you disappeared. Being unable to stand on your own, you dropped to the ground. You heard blaster shots raging around you, and even though you wanted to, you couldn’t lift your head from the dirt to see what was going on.

You can hear a few screams from the men and the shuffling of feet. Then you hear nothing. You close your eyes to block out whatever will happen next. You prepare yourself to feel some kind of discomfort, but instead you're greeted with a gentle hand sliding around your bruised jaw.

“Y/N,” a modulated voice spoke. “Can you hear me?”

It took you a few seconds to match the voice to the shiny metal looking down at you. When you realized it was Mando, you felt a thousand pounds of weight leave you.

“Mando,” you grin. You stupidly try to sit up, and immediately a wave of pain shoots through you. Grimacing, you plop back down to the dirt.

“Can you stand?” Mando asked, like you just hadn’t attempted that very thing and failed. You shot him a look and sighed. “Right, stupid question.” He then slides one arm under your legs, and the other goes around your back. He hoists you up into his arms.

You fade in and out of consciousness, only dimly registering the coldness of his beskar as your head rests on his armored chest.

You're wide awake, though, as Mando cleans and dresses your blaster wound.

He’d sat you on one of the boxes in the lower level of the Crest. “I need you to take off your shirt,” he said slowly.

You winced as you tried to lift the shirt over your head, but stopped when it was clear you wouldn’t be able to. “I can’t.”

“Oh, um, here.” He reached out hesitantly, taking the bottom of your shirt to slowly pull it up.

“Ow, ow, stop.” You couldn’t lift your arms high enough to get the shirt over your head, even with Mando’s help.

“Sorry.” He quickly apologized as he noticed the grimace on your face. Without warning, he gripped the bottom of your shirt again and tore the fabric upwards. Your shirt hung open now as Mando only stood there, unmoving. As if he just realized what he did. You stared up at him in shock for a few moments.

“You know, I liked that shirt.” You finally joked.

Your voice seemed to snap him out of whatever trance he was in. “Well, it was ruined anyway,” he shrugged. “I’ll get you a new one.” He then carefully pulled the destroyed garment down each side of your arms before tossing it somewhere at your feet.

His eyes scanned over your arms, taking in the bruises left by the man’s harsh hold on you. His thumb came up to brush across the imprints left on your skin. Even through his gloves, you could imagine the soft touch of his bare fingers. You could picture how nice it would feel on your wounds.

“They got me good, huh?” You laughed to try to relieve some of the sudden tension.

“You’ll need to ice those bruises,” he said as he slipped off his gloves and dropped to his knees to get a closer look at the blaster wound on your side. He was being as soft as he could, and that alone meant more than all the stars, but even all his gentleness couldn’t stop the pain. You lost count of how many times you’d winced or tensed up as his hands worked. Each time a slight sound of discomfort left your lips, his hands froze for a few seconds before he faintly whispered an apology.

You tried to find something to focus on to distract your mind from the ache. Eventually, you settled on watching his hands. One was cleaning the wound, wiping away the dried blood, and going over it with an antiseptic that stung as it made contact with your battered skin.

The other hand rested lightly against your hip. Spread across the plush skin there to keep you from flinching away too much. The heat from his gloveless hands was too obvious to ignore. The warmth seeped into you, and a small part of you wanted this to last forever, even if it meant enduring this pain. The subtle twitches of his fingers as he worked shot a shiver up your spine. The way he would brush them back and forth as if offering you what comfort he could only made your hopeless affection for him skyrocket.

After his fingers delicately smoothed a bacta patch over the blaster wound, they lingered on your skin for a moment. You looked down to meet his visor. Even through the helmet, you could feel the intensity of his gaze. You had never seen his face, let alone his eyes, but you’d always imagined them to be dark. Brown with hints of amber shooting through them like comets flying through space.

“Thank you.” You said softly.

He gave only a small nod in return while moving his hands away from you. You wished you didn’t miss their warmth as much as you did. As Mando stood, you followed him with your eyes. He hadn’t said anything for a while, and he was always hard to read for obvious reasons. But you weren’t shy about admitting you had gotten pretty good at reading his body language.

His breathing was shallow, so much so that you had to take a second guess as to whether he was breathing at all. His shoulders were tense, and he clutched his still-bare hands into fists at his sides. All signs that he was struggling with something.

Just as you were coming to a decision to speak up an uncharacteristically hesitant sigh sounded from behind his helmet. “I’m sorry.”

Confused, you looked up at him, raising one eyebrow. “For what?”

“For not being there. For letting you go alone.” He gruffly answered.

You shakily stood from the crate, having to keep one hand clutched to the corner to stop from falling. “Mando, it’s not your fault. I volunteered to go on my own and neither one of us could’ve known this would happen.”

Mando remained silent, the tension in his body apparent even through the armor. You took a cautious step towards him, wincing slightly at the pull on your injured side.

"Hey," you said gently, reaching out to lay a hand on his arm. "I'm okay. A little banged up, but I'll heal."

He nodded once, agreeing with you but you knew he’d still torture himself over the whole ordeal for the next few days. You were about to ask where the kid was but when you opened your mouth a whimper of pain came out instead. You felt your legs tremble before giving out from under you. Mando’s hands darted out to catch you before you could meet the hard floor of the Crest. He held you by your elbows supporting your whole weight so you wouldn’t strain yourself.

“Thanks,” you whisper, your voice a little breathless. He didn’t say anything, just squeezed your arms for a few seconds.

All of a sudden, he scooped you up from where you stood. Letting out a surprised yelp your arms flung themselves around his neck. “Mando?”

“You need to rest.” He said matter of factly. He walked through the lower level of the ship. “You're going to sleep in the bunk until you’re healed.”

You let out a sigh, too tired and in too much pain to argue as he carried you to the small sleeping quarters. Gently, he laid you down on the thin mattress, your body immediately relaxing into its softness.

“Sleep.” Mando said, his voice low and gentle in a way you didn’t know he possessed. "I'll be in the cockpit; yell if you need anything."

Then he was gone, leaving you to fall into a dreamless sleep with the smell of him surrounding you all night.

─

Weeks had passed, and you were finally able to walk around the ship again without Mando ordering you back to bed. The bruising on your arms as well as your face had disappeared, faded away into a distant, forgotten memory. The only thing still present to remind you of what happened was the blaster wound. The skin was no longer spread apart, but a scar would form over time. You still wore a bacta patch over it since some tenderness and redness were still there.

That’s why you were currently sitting in one of the co-pilot seats up in the cockpit. Mando insisted on changing the dressing on the wound until it was completely gone. Even though you had most, if not all, mobility back. Deep down, you knew he still felt guilty, whether you had talked about it or not; it was clear as day. So, if changing the bacta patch for you made him feel better, who were you to deny him?

You sat patiently as Mando carefully peeled back the dressing on your side. His movements were gentle and precise as he checked the healing wound.

"It's looking much better," he said, his voice low and modulated through the helmet. "Should be completely healed soon."

You nodded, watching as he smoothed a fresh bacta patch over the tender skin. His touch lingered, ungloved fingers tracing lightly over your side. That was one reason you put up little fight with him about changing the bandages. He always took off his gloves, and he always let his touch linger for a moment longer than necessary.

His subtle touches still happened like normal, but those were always through his gloves. When he was tending to your wound, you were granted the exhilarating feeling of his bare hands.

You were well aware that you were completely insane. Just how touched starved were you to be losing all rational thinking when Mando was doing something so innocent as helping you change the dressings of a blaster shot?

“Thank you for doing this.” You said and prayed to the Maker that you didn’t sound as out of breath as you thought.

Trailing a feather-light touch on the skin of your stomach, he said, “It’s the least I could do with everything you do for us.”

You simply hummed, not trusting your voice, as he moved to your side. Goosebumps were left wherever his fingers touched, and subconsciously, you felt yourself leaning into them. You couldn’t help but relax under his gentle care. You weren’t oblivious to the position you were in, though, and when he brushed the skin right under the lining of your bra, your eyes widened as your head shot down to look at him.

He stilled after his hand slid back to your side. He didn’t take his hands completely off you; just kept them warming the same area of skin for a few moments. You swore your heart was beating was so fast you could hear it. He was looking at you, that was for sure; even without seeing them, you could feel his eyes roaming over your face.

It was silent as he finished up, helping you stand once you righted your shirt. His hands hovered over your hips for far too long once you were up to be written off as an accident.

You were flushed; you could feel it in your cheeks. There was a new tension in the air between you; his touch suddenly felt charged in a way that it hadn't before. You weren't sure what to make of it. A part of you wondered if you were imagining things, seeing more in his actions than was really there. Wishful thinking brought on by too many lonely nights spent dreaming of things that could never be.

But another part of you felt certain this was different. Mando was holding you closer than necessary, touching you longer than needed to treat your injury. You thought back to the feeling of his bare fingers tracing patterns on your skin as he changed your bandage and the way your breath hitched at the contact.

Before you could overthink it any further, Mando stepped back, the moment broken. He busied himself gathering up the used bacta patches and medical supplies, his posture tense in a way that told you he felt the shift between you too.

"You should get some more rest," he said gruffly, not quite meeting your eyes through the visor. "I'll let you know when we reach the next system."

You nodded mutely, your heart still pounding as you climbed the ladder down from the cockpit. Once on the lower level, you let out a heavy breath, hand going to your chest, where your heart thudded against your palm.

─

You were on the lower level of the Crest, making the kid his dinner, when the shaking began. The ship trembled harshly, throwing off your balance and causing the bone broth you were heating up to spill.

You snatched up the kid from his pod and bee-lined for the ladder. While climbing, the shrill blare of an alarm bounced off the walls of the Crest. The kid squealed in fear, not understanding what was going on. Your free hand caressed the top of his head in an attempt to soothe him.

Another shock wave rocked the ship. You grunted as you tightened your hold on the rungs of the ladder to stop you and the kid from falling. As cautiously as you could, you hauled yourself up.

“What's going on?” You yelled once you stumbled into the cockpit, clutching the frightened child tightly to your chest as the ship continued to shake violently. Mando's hands flew over the controls, steering the Crest through what appeared to be an asteroid field.

"We're taking fire," he gritted out, dodging another large asteroid that whizzed past the viewport. “Bounty hunters. They're trying to force us out of hyperspace."

The alarm finally shut off, and you let out a sigh of relief as you put the kid in one of the co-pilot seats, strapping the harness around him. The ship jolted again as a blast hit the aft shields. Mando cursed under his breath, diverting more power to maintain the failing shields. You yelped as your footing was lost before you could seat yourself in the other co-pilot seat, causing you to crash into Mando and land in his lap.

You didn’t have the chance to mumble out an awkward apology or to even let yourself get flustered before he was wrapping one arm around your middle and drawing you snug against him. Despite the chaos, you were acutely aware of how close you were pressed against the hard beskar of his armor. Mando's strong arm held you firmly in place on his lap as he continued piloting the ship with his other.

"Hold on," he said, his modulated voice steady despite the mayhem. You wrapped one arm around his shoulders, anchoring yourself as another blast rocked the ship. Your stomach flipped with fear, seemingly in tune with the hard turns and twists Mando made attempting to lose the bounty hunters in the asteroid field.

“I can bring you in warm or I can bring you in cold, Mandalorian!” The bounty hunter’s threat sounded over the com. Another round of blasts assaulted the Crest as you tighten your hold around Mando’s neck to keep yourself in place. A low growl rose in his throat so deep you could feel it vibrating in his chest. The blush decorating your cheeks felt as hot as the lava of Mustafar.

He slid his arm from around your waist, wildly pressing buttons you had no idea the purpose of. He grabbed a switch, increasing the speed of the ship. Your breath caught in your throat; you wanted to scream; maybe confess everything you’ve been feeling the last few months. If you were going to die during a high-speed chase with bounty hunters that wanted your head, you might as well lay it all out in the open while you could. But every word stuck to your throat, and the only thing you did was clutch closer and tighter to Mando. Hiding your face in the crook of his neck, the scent you’d become acquainted with during your stay in his bunk wafted up your nose.

Just when you’d made peace with whatever outcome this predicament would have, he hit the brake. Hard. The sudden movement had you scrambling to keep your hold on him. The two of you were flung forward by the force of the sudden stop. You knew you had screamed while you struggled to keep your arms around him.

With your eyes clenched shut, you felt another tremor shake the ship. You cracked one eye open to take a look, shooting both wide open when you saw the bounty hunter’s ship hovering in front of the Crest.

“That’s my line.” Mando snapped, taking aim at the other ship. One shot, and it exploded into a million forgotten pieces.

The sudden silence seemed louder than all the chaos that had just occurred. With every passing second, you became more and more aware of the exact position you were in. Arms thrown around Mando’s neck, your face practically brushing his helmet. You could feel the hard planes of his beskar under your hands, the slow rise and fall of his chest. His arm was still anchored around your waist, hand splayed across your lower back.

You couldn’t make yourself move, only being able to let out a few shaky breaths here and there. The adrenaline flooding caused you to shake from the inside out, your heart thumping so hard in your chest that you thought it would burst free.

Finally, you turned to face the impenetrable blackness of Mando’s visor. “We’re never doing that again,” you rambled.

A rumbling chuckle came from him. “I don’t know; I kind of like it.”

There was a smugness tinting his voice, making you take pause. What was he on about? And then, as shocking as a bolt of electricity, it dawned on you. He wasn’t talking about the chase; he was talking about you still perched on his lap. Like you belonged there.

Baffled and a little amused, you quickly went to stand, but his arm slung around you tightened. You couldn’t move with him still holding you to him. You didn’t know what to do, staring at him in silent confusion. Not being able to see his face to judge what he was thinking, you had no choice but to become extremely aware of every place you two were connected.

“Mando-”

“Just stay for a minute.” He cut you off in a pleading voice.

With him talking to you like that, you would’ve done anything for him. You were going to grant him his request when a childlike squeal sounded from beside you. Both of you immediately turned your heads to the kid still strapped in the co-pilot seat. Mando allowed you to get up so you could unfasten the harness and check to see if he was okay. He didn’t seem to be hurt; thank the Maker.

“He alright?” Mando asked.

You turned towards him, expecting to be met with his t-shaped visor staring blankly at you with hidden eyes you didn’t know the color of. Instead, you find him looking straight ahead, not meeting your gaze. As if he hadn’t just begged you to stay seated in his lap for a while longer.

─

You were never the type of person to put yourself in awkward positions on purpose.

After the incident that happened in the cockpit, you and Mando had been tense around each other. He seldom even looked your way anymore, never speaking to you unless absolutely necessary. The subtle touches from him had gone away too. You didn’t understand it. He was the one to keep you clutched against him. He was the one who asked you to stay. And now he was avoiding you like a wild bantha.

Which leads to your current issue.

The nightmares.

When you were a child, night terrors plagued you. You’d wake up screaming at the top of your lungs, frightened to no end of something you couldn’t recall. You eventually grew out of it, but now they’ve started back up again for some unknown reason. They were less intense now you supposed. You didn’t wake up screaming, at least.

But you would shoot up from your makeshift cot in a cold sweat. Your heart pounding against your ribcage painfully, and your bones rattling inside you. And the only thing you wanted in the moments after you woke? A certain beskar-covered man who apparently wanted nothing to do with you. There had been numerous times when you’d almost talked yourself into going to find him, but your stubbornness won out each time. It would be pathetic to throw yourself at him when he very clearly wanted space from you. A person could only hold out for so long, though.

Tonight was one of the worst. From what you could remember of your nightmares, there was no one else in them beside you, and whatever menacing creature hunted you. But this go-around was different.

You were on the Crest; the lights dim all around you, and not a sound reaches your ears. Until the screaming started. First it was Mando, calling your name in a pleading voice. Desperate in a way you’ve never heard him. Then you could hear the kid somewhere, and he was scared. You couldn’t see either of them; didn’t know where they were, but their fear bounced all around you. All you knew was that you needed to find them, save them, make sure they were alright. And not being able to see them made panic crawl up within you.

Where are they!?

You had woken up all at once, a loud gasp flying out of your mouth as you shot up from your cot. You had actually been crying in your sleep, tears making tracks down your face. The nightmare faded achingly slow, the kid's fearful cries and Mando’s desperation still echoed in your mind. Even though it was only a dream, you couldn't shake the urgent need to check on them.

Throwing off your blanket, you slid out of bed and crept as quietly as possible to the compartment where they slept. The ship was dark and silent, aside from the ever-present hum of the engines. It eerily reminded you too much of your nightmare.

Without really thinking about the possibility of you waking them up, you slid open the door. There was no beskar-clad Mandalorian, though, and when you peered up into the hammock where the kid slept, your panic gripped you again. He wasn't there. They weren’t here.

Unsettled all over again, with new tears welling up in your eyes, your feet carried you to the ladder, which you climbed in record time. You practically ripped open the door to the cockpit. Through your tears, you can make out Mando in the pilot's seat, fully armored as always. And sitting on his lap, playing with the silver ball he liked to steal from the controls, was the kid.

“Mando.” You croak out as relief washes over you. You wasted no time in walking over to them and scooping the kid into your arms. You let out a relieved sigh, a few stray tears escaping down your cheeks. You cradled the child close. He cooed contentedly, his little claws grasping at your sleepshirt.

Mando, who had turned to look at you as you entered the cockpit, watched silently. Taking in the sheer relief on your face as well as the tear stains.

"What's wrong?" he finally asked, his voice gentler than you had heard it in days.

You hesitated, embarrassed to admit your childish fears to him. But the memory of your nightmare still clung to you, making you shiver. "I had a nightmare," you confessed quietly. "You and the kid were in danger, and I couldn't find you. When I woke up and you weren't in the bunk…”

You trailed off with a helpless shrug, not meeting his visor. The kid cooed soothingly, patting your cheek with one tiny hand.

To your surprise, Mando rose from the pilot's seat and came to stand before you. He took the kid from your arms, and you fought the urge to snatch him back as Mando placed him in his pod that sat in one of the co-pilots seats. When he was back in front of you, he reached out slowly, giving you time to pull away. It was only when his arms came around you did it dawn on you what he was doing. He cradled you against him as softly as you would the kid. For a moment, you just stood there stiffly, not sure what to do.

Then your breathing hitched as everything overpowered you. The tears came, and you melted into his touch. Wrapping your arms around him, you pressed your forehead to his beskar-cover chest. A lone sob made its way up your throat as you dug your fingers into the collar of his flight suit that peeked out from his armor.

Having him touch you again made you aware of just how much you missed it. How much you’d been longing for it, and right now the craving was all-encompassing. He didn’t utter a single word while you pressed yourself as closely against him as you could. He just stood there, carding his glove-covered fingers through your hair.

Time didn’t seem to exist in the current moment, so you had no idea how long you were there. But it didn’t really matter; an eternity of this would never come close to being enough.

When you finally calmed down, you had one question begging to be asked. All the weeks of tense pretending nothing had changed between you wouldn’t allow you to stay silent anymore.

“Why are you doing this?” You sounded hesitant and slightly muffled as you spoke, your face still buried in his chest.

It took him a long time to answer. “Doing what?” He finally asked in return.

“This.” Your hand gestured widely behind the both of you to indicate the position you were in. “Why are you comforting me after avoiding me for weeks? Why are you acting like you care again? What is this to you?”

He went rigged almost immediately, and you were scared you went too far. “You don’t have to answer that.” You insisted as you tried to break free from him. But just like the time you were sitting in his lap; his arms caged you to him. Even with you pressing your hands to his chest in an attempt to wiggle away, he kept you close to him.

“It…it feels right.” He said, sounding almost frantic.

You stared up at him in surprise, even as his arms remained firmly around you. "It...feels right?" you repeated slowly. “What does that mean?”

Mando sighed, the sound crackling through his modulator. His visor rose as he untangled his fingers from your hair. You couldn’t see, but you could feel his movements behind your head. Then you hear something drop, and only when his hands come into view do you notice he’s taken off his gloves.

“What are you doing?” You asked, pushing away from him. It wasn't the first time you'd seen his hands without his gloves, but those had all been when he was treating your injuries. All times when it had been necessary.

"I can't give you the answers you want right now," he said quietly. "But I can tell you that being close to you feels right in a way nothing ever has."

Before you could respond, his hands came up to cup your face, the warmth and roughness of his skin making you inhale sharply. Your eyes fluttered closed as his thumbs gently stroked over your cheeks, wiping away the last lingering tears. You leaned into his touch, savoring this intimate contact after so long being kept at a distance. His hands trailed lightly down your neck over your shoulders, mapping out your shape through your sleepshirt. You shivered at the sensation, hyper-aware of his every movement.

Slowly, as if you were a frightened creature he might scare away, Mando tilted your chin up. Warmth bloomed in your cheeks as you found yourself staring directly into his visor, but somehow you were convinced you could see his eyes even through the endless blackness. Heart pounding, you couldn't look away.

His hands came up to frame your face once more, sending shivers down your spine. Then, ever so gently, his helmeted forehead rested against yours. The feeling was... strange but not unpleasant. It was comforting in a way you hadn't expected.

"I don't know what this is," he said gruffly. "But I know I don't want to lose it."

The confession hung heavy in the air as both of you came to acknowledge that there was something between you. You were still as confused as ever, but for now, this would have to be enough.

If you couldn't tell by the title, I listened to Only by RY X while writing this. This whole mini-series will be named after it.

Banner credits: @reveriesources

#pedro pascal #din dijarin x reader #the mandolarian #the mandolorian x you #the mandolorian x reader #the mandolorain imagine #din djarin #din djarin x y/n #din djarin imagine #star wars #star wars imagine

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