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bitchin-beskar · 4 years

Text

Choices

Rating: T (This rating will be increasing to an M in the coming chapters)

Word Count: 8.2k

A/N: Whew. This took longer than I was anticipating, but I’m pretty happy with the result! This is a ClanLeader!Din AU, inspired by @magichandthing‘s amazing artwork, and also inspired by the 2017 remake of Disney’s Beauty and the Beast. This will be a multi-chapter fic, and while I hope to get the next chapter out in a week or so, I make no promises! I hope you guys like it! Comments/Reblogs are more than welcome, it makes me so happy to know what you guys think!

Tags: @chibi-liz05

If you want to be tagged in any future chapters (or any other works) just let me know!

“Will you open the stall today?”

You look up as you hear your father’s voice calling from outside in the garden. You wipe your hands off on your apron, the streaks of white flour maring the blue fabric. Stepping out into the sunlight, you see your father standing by the door, his medical bag slung over one shoulder.

“One of the children in a nearby village is sick, so I can’t go into town today. Will you go in and open up the stall for a little while? I promised some of the children that I would have new toys for them today, but I likely won’t be back before sundown.”

“Of course, Papá. Go! I’ll be fine.” He grins at you, kissing your forehead as you step forward to hug him. “Be safe!” You wave as he climbs into the speeder and drives off in the direction of the neighboring village.

You head back inside to clean up the mess in the kitchen. You were going to spend the day baking, but now that you’ll be in town, you’ll have to save the baking for tomorrow. After you quickly clean up, you grab your father’s toy satchel, filled with all of the new wooden toys he’s carved for the children of the village, and head into town. The walk isn’t far and it’s nice out today, the suns shining down, causing the morning dew to shimmer on the leaves of the trees and the blades of grass.

You stop along the path to pick a few wildflowers, tucking them into the pocket on your apron. Old Nan loves them, and you figure she can put them in a small vase in her home, or on display at her stall. She mostly sells knitted things, but occasionally she sells jam and honey, and she’s always willing to trade some with you for a few pretty flowers.

As the village comes into view, you see a few of the children running about and playing in the fields. You wave, and they come running over excitedly. The children of the village love you and your Papá, unlike most of the adults. They love the toys your Papá creates, and they don’t mind that you prefer reading and baking to finding a husband. Children do not judge others for their choices, their innocence bright and refreshing.

“Miss! Miss! Are you going to open the stall?” One of the children, Atleah, gasps excitedly, her little hands clutching at your skirts. She has many little toys and wooden gadgets from you and your Papá, and she always wants more. “Please, please, please open the stall! Eddarth said you had new toys!”

The boy standing next to her, her brother Eddarth, grinned unashamedly. You smile softly, pressing a hand against the soft hair on Atleah’s head to calm her. “Is Eddie telling tales?” You remark aloud, and you fight back a giggle as Atleah frowns. “I cannot remember if there is anything new for me to put at the stall…” You trail off, and Atleah tugs you along behind her as she practically drags you into the village, towards the marketplace.

“But Miss!” She protests, tugging on the straps of your satchel. “Miss, you have the toy bag, so that must mean you have new toys!” She reasons, expression pleading, and you’re unable to keep up the facade.

“Oh! I do remember! Papá made a few new toys, some speeders and ships I believe.” Atleah squeals in excitement, and doubles down in her efforts to drag you to the stall. You’re laughing by the time you arrive, surrounded on all sides by excitable children. They wait impatiently for you to open up the stall, unlocking the cases and placing your wares out on display.

Atleah immediately finds the toy she wants, a small replica of a sand crawler, complete with little Jawa figurines. You’d lived your whole life here on Roon, but your father had grown up on a moisture farm on Tatooine, and the children loved to hear stories of a planet covered in sand, so unlike the planet they’d been born on.

You allow the children to pick their toys, bending down so each one can whisper their secret into your ear as payment. You watch amused as the children settle in the grass not too far from your stall, already coming up with games that they can play with their new wares.

The children were usually the only ones to visit your stall, although occasionally adults would come to request your Papá’s medical skills for their families. The adults of the village didn’t like you or your Papá all that much. You were tolerated, but that was about it. You knew what they thought of you, that your Papá had allowed you too much independence, that you’d never settle down and become the good little housewife that was expected of the women in the village. They thought your Papá a touch mad, a little crazy because he preferred to make toys and gadgets all day, instead of using his skills as a medic to become rich.

Old Nan wandered over to your stall, one of her knitted shawls wrapped tightly around her bony shoulders. She was half blind, but she enjoyed holding your Papá’s toys in her hands, feeling the carvings and details with her old fingers. As she approached, you pulled the bouquet of wildflowers out of your apron, tying them together with a spare piece of string.

“Oh, dear girl, you shouldn’t have.” Her voice was warm, filled with affection as she accepted the flowers from you. “You spoil this old lady so.” She gently brought the flowers to her face, breathing in the scent.

“I like to think of it as a fair trade,” you offered, grinning. “A beautiful bouquet of flowers for a beautiful woman, in exchange for a little bit of delicious honey and jam.” Old Nan swatted at you playfully, her lips pulling back over her teeth in a delighted grin.

“You’re such a charmer, dear girl, how have none of the boys in this gods-forsaken village swept you off your feet?”

You’re about to answer when a large hand slams down on the wooden surface of your stall, startling the both of you and knocking some of your Papá’s creations over.

“She likes to play hard to get, spinster. Isn’t that right, my treasure?”

Glaring at the hulking figure before you, you straighten the toys he knocked over. “I am not your treasure, Gallan. I do not belong to anyone, least of all you, and I never will.” You smack his hand away as he tries to touch you. “And it is rude to refer to your elders in such a manner. Apologize.”

He grunts an apology that both you and Old Nan know isn’t sincere, but you take what you can get. “I don’t understand why you keep turning me down, treasure,” he drawls, grinning even as you grimace. “There’s no finer husband on all of Roon than myself, surely your fool of a father can see that. It’s only a matter of time before he agrees to give me your hand.”

“I am not a possession to be bartered for, Gallan. My Papá has agreed that I do not have to marry if I do not wish it. And even if I did wish to marry someone, it wouldn’t be you.” Turning so your back is to him, you attempt to begin a conversation with Old Nan, hoping Gallan would just leave, but he is not so easily dissuaded.

There is suddenly a tight grip around your wrist, and Gallan roughly yanks you back, spinning you around so you’re facing him. You tug uselessly against his grip, cringing back as he runs a finger down the side of your face.

“You’ll give in to me eventually, my treasure. There’s no other woman in the village who can compare to your beauty. I won’t accept anyone else as my wife. You will be mine,” he all but growls, bringing his face closer to yours. You try to turn away, but his grip is too tight. You know none of the other villagers will step in to help you. With the exception of Old Nan, they all love Gallan, and many of the women are jealous of the attention he lavishes on you, unwanted as it may be.

“Let go of me!” Your voice is loud, angry, but he only laughs as you try to escape him. “Gallan, let me go!”

He laughs mockingly. “Who’s gonna make me?”

“She said to let her go.”

Gallan is startled by the harsh voice behind him, and he whirls around, unfortunately dragging you with him. Standing in front of your stall is a Mandalorian. Your eyes widen in shock. You knew there was a Mandalorian covert not far from the village, but they rarely ventured into town. When they did come to buy supplies, they came in twos, and never the same ones as before. You thought it might have something to do with diversion tactics, never allow the enemy to know how many are in your command or something similar. You knew the Mandalorians were a warrior race, so it wouldn’t surprise you.

Your Papá had traded some medical supplies with the covert a couple of times, so you’d seen some of them the few times they’d appeared on your doorstep, but almost never in the town square or marketplace. You did not fear the Mandalorians, like many of the other villagers, but even you had to admit the one in front of you was intimidating.

He–well, you assumed it was a he, it was hard to tell–stood close to six feet tall. His armor was made of beskar, gleaming silver in the sunlight. It covered his chest, back, arms and legs, and where he didn’t have armor, he had thick canvas fabric leaving his skin completely covered. He had multiple blades strapped all over his body, along with a pistol of some sort holstered at his side. He had some type of contraption on his back–in addition to the weapon that looked to be some kind of long range rifle–and it looked to you as though it was a jetpack. His arms were crossed and his helmet gave nothing away, but you could tell by the tilt that he was focused on Gallan, not you.

“You have no business here, Mandalorian,” Gallan spat, his grip tightening around your wrist, and you winced as you felt the bones creak under his grip. “Go back and hide in your dingy, damp little caves. No one wants you here.” Gallan had a sneer on his face, and you wondered how any of the girls in this village could find this man handsome.

“I believe the young woman wants you to let her go.” The Mandalorian did not move, and he certainly did not sound at all intimidated by Gallan. “So let. her. go.”

Gallan’s grip slackened just enough at the hidden threat in the Mandalorian’s voice that you were able to yank your wrist free. Cradling your quickly bruising and sore wrist to your chest, you rubbed the tender skin as you backed away from Gallan. Emboldened by the presence of a Mandalorian, you spoke once more. “Leave, Gallan. Do not speak to me again.”

He looked you up and down, a lewd, lecherous grin stretching across his lips. “I’ll be back, treasure. One of these days, I’ll wear your father down. Make no mistake, you will be mine.” You glared at him, angrily watching him leave, before turning to your savior.

Before you could speak, the Mandalorian stepped forward, holding his hand out. “May I?” He asked, when you didn’t move. Blinking, you placed your hand in his, watching as he inspected your wrist. “Did he hurt you?”

Old Nan grumbled, and you started, nearly having forgotten she was there. “That boy has got some nerve,” she huffed, shuffling forward, uncaring of the big, hulking Mando. “Grabbing you like that. How many times has he done that, dear child?”

You sighed. Old Nan was perhaps the only adult in the village who didn’t dislike you or your Papá, and while she may not have approved of Gallan, she was the only one. Everyone else seemed to think you were blessed to have his attention, or some other such nonsense. “He seems to think I am his property, just because he’s decided I’m the prettiest girl in the village,” you grumbled to Old Nan, and she tutted disapprovingly. “He’s never been all that violent, just… aggressive in his affection, if you can call it that.”

You had a feeling the Mandalorian was looking at you incredulously, although with his helmet you couldn’t know for sure. “He nearly dislocated your wrist.” He finished inspecting your hand before lowering it slowly. “This has happened before?” You nodded.

“He’ll leave bruises on my arms from grabbing me too hard, and once he shoved me against a wall so hard I had a bump on the back of my head.”

Old Nan gasped, and you winced, you’d forgotten she hadn’t known about that particular incident. “Why?” Her voice was quiet, and she had tears in her eyes.

“Um, well…” You trailed off, grimacing. “I may have… laughed at him when his mogo threw him while he was trying to show off.” Old Nan snorted, trying to stifle a grin.

The Mandalorian shook his head. “He should not have harmed you, even then.” You shrugged, fiddling with one of the toys your Papá had carved. “How much for those?” This Mandalorian was giving you whiplash with the way he seemed to jump from conversation to conversation.

“Do you mean the toys?” You asked, and when he nodded, you eyed him up and down critically. “Depends on who they’re for. I’ll sell them to travelers and tourists, but I have a bartering system set up with the village children. Why?”

He sighed, and the harsh static of his vocoder crackled with the noise. “Will you come with me?” He raised his hands up, palms facing you in a gesture of peace. “No harm will come to you, I swear. Bring the toys.” You contemplated for a second, before the pieces fell into place. You nodded, and after you placed them carefully in a satchel, he began to lead you out of the village, but not before you bid Old Nan good day. You walked at his side, relishing in the fact that for once, the villagers were staring, but it wasn’t because of you.

As you began to leave the village behind, he stopped, before turning his helmet towards you. You stopped as well, and waited for him to speak. “May I blindfold you?” You weren’t all that surprised by his request. From the little you knew of the Mandalorians, you knew they were insanely private. While you knew of the existence of the covert, you knew very little about it. You had no idea how many Mandalorians there were, although you suspected at the very least there were children, due to his request about the toys.

Nodding, you watched as he produced a strip of black fabric, and you allowed him to gently wrap it around your face, covering your eyes and causing your vision to go dark. “Can you see anything?” You shook your head. “I’ll need to fly us there. May I…?” You could hear the unspoken question in his voice, and you nodded. You were nervous about flying without being able to see, but it would be rude to refuse now.

You felt one of his arms brace against the small of your back as his other slid beneath your knees, pulling your legs out from underneath you as he stood, cradling your body in his arms. You can feel your face heat up under the blindfold, even though nothing he’s doing could be considered inappropriate or indecent–unless you considered that it was customary for husbands to carry their wives from the altar to their homestead in such a manner, and you’d never imagined you would experience it–although if your Papá saw you now you were sure that he’d have questions.

He’s about to take off when you think of something. “What should I call you?” As he stays silent, you elaborate. “It doesn’t have to be your actual name, but I feel rude just referring to you as Mandalorian.”

You don’t think he’s going to answer you, but then he speaks, just before activating his jetpack. “Din. My name is Din Djarin.”

You don’t have a chance to respond before the jetpack fires up, and then you’re airborne. You clutch at Din’s armor as best you can, although with how tight his grip is, you’re pretty confident you won’t fall. The wind whips your hair around your face, and you tuck your chin, turning your face into his chest to protect your skin from the harsh, biting cold from being so high up.

The wind combined with the noise of the jetpack makes it too loud for conversation, so he flies in silence, although admittedly not for very long. You can feel the change in the wind as you begin to descend, and before long, your body is jolted as Din lands with a soft thud.

He gently lowers you to the ground, and you’re somewhat surprised at the gentleness of his movements, in spite of his size and the bulky nature of his armor. Once you’re standing on your own two feet, you sway slightly, disoriented due to your blindfold and the–admittedly short–flight. His hands on your arms steady you for a moment, before turning you and gently leading you forward.

You stumble along next to him for a few moments, but then he pauses, and slowly the fabric is removed from over your eyes. You blink rapidly as your eyes adjust to the dim lighting surrounding you. You’re underground, or at least, it looks like you are. The walls are some kind of smooth stone, and the hallway stretching out in front of you is lit by gas lanterns hung from the ceiling. The lanterns are the only source of light, but it doesn’t feel dark and oppressive, like you imagined a cave might feel. The walls and floors are clean of any moisture, and you feel a vicious sense of pleasure that Gallan had misjudged the Mandalorian covert’s home so spectacularly.

“Are you alright?” You turn to look at Din, and with your eyes still adjusting, it takes you a moment to find his helmet, so that you could look at him.

“Yes, I’m fine. This is where the covert stays, I take it?”

He nods once. “I’ll be taking you straight to the children. The adults will likely be cautious, but the children less so.”

You shrug. “It’s a dynamic I’m used to,” you offer as you begin to follow him down the hallway. You think you hear Din say something, but his voice is too quiet to make out any distinguishable words.

“I need to warn you,” he says, pausing before a huge metal door, turning towards you. “Inside the covert, things are a bit… different. We wear our full beskar out in public, but in our home, we’re more… relaxed.”

You nod, before fear grips you. “Wait, do they know you’re bringing me? I don’t want you to get into trouble, bringing an outsider into your home–” Din cuts you off with a chuckle, his leather-covered palm resting squarely in the middle of your back.

“Sarad’ika, calm down. I wouldn’t have brought you here without making sure it was alright with the Clan Leader, don’t worry. He knows you’re coming, and he’s fine with it.” You nodded, your heartbeat calming slightly. But then you paused.

“Wait, what did you just call me?”

Din chuckled once more. “Don’t worry, it’s nothing bad. It’s just what the others call you. One of the clan members saw you with a flower crown one day, and so the children began to call you Sarad’ika. It means little flower.”

Nodding a little distractedly, you watched as Din opened the door. The covert had a nickname for you? You could count on one hand the number of times you’d met a Mandalorian, so you were a little shocked to learn they all seemed to know who you were.

As you followed him into what turned out to be a large circular room, your eyes widened in shock. Near the ceiling, natural light streamed in, basking the weathered walls in warm sunlight. There was a large common area in the middle of the room, with tables and chairs and rugs of all shapes and sizes. There were multiple doors lining the walls, some open, some shut. Din led you into the middle of the room, towards a small group sitting on one of the rugs. When one of the beings turned, you could see that it was a child, no older than Atleah or Eddarth, wearing a beskar helmet. You heard the gasp as the child saw you, and you were suddenly surrounded on all sides by children, not unlike this morning in the village.

“Sarad’ika! Sarad’ika!” The children chanted as they surrounded you. One child tugs on your hand, leading you towards the rug they’d just vacated, pulling you down to sit with them, and the one adult Mandalorian, who had stayed seated. The children are wearing clothes similar to the children from your village, which makes sense you suppose. But the adult Mandalorian isn’t wearing full beskar, like Din is. She has her helmet on, but she’s wearing a pair of leather trousers and a soft-looking tunic, with her arms completely bare all the way up to her shoulders. She has tattoos covering every inch of exposed skin, thick black lines in sharp patterns that stand out against her bronze skin. She nods to you as you sit, and you think you hear her chuckle when one of the children plops down in your lap.

You feel the air rush out of your lungs as the child falls into your lap–sweet heavens the child is bigger than they think they are–but you hide it well. The helmet tilts up at you, and the sweet, innocent voice that floats out is only slightly marred by the vocoder.

“Sarad’ika, did you bring the toys? Din said he was gonna ask!”

Even though you can’t see his face, you can imagine the expression on it clear as day, pleading, bright-eyed and hopeful. You tap your chin thoughtfully, and look around at the other children all waiting eagerly. “Perhaps. But I can’t just give toys out for free you know. They’re going to cost something.” Your words don’t deter the children at all, if anything they seem even more eager.

“How much?”

The question comes from a little girl to your left, her small hands resting gently on your thigh. You smile. These children are no different from the others you’re used to. It’s nice to know childish innocence and wonder are universal.

“Oh, you can’t buy these toys with just any money.” You lean in conspiratorially, and the children are captivated. “I like to deal in secrets.” You can tell the children are confused, so you continue, your voice low. “In order to buy one of my toys, you must first tell me a secret about yourselves. Something no one else knows.”

There are gasps all around, and you can tell they’re excited. “I’ll go first, so you know how it goes,” you offer, and the children shuffle even closer. “Sometimes, when my Papá is asleep, I’ll get up and dance around the kitchen and pretend I’m a queen in a fancy dress at a grand party!”

There’s giggles all around and the children begin to tell you their ‘secrets’ one by one. Braan, the little boy in your lap, likes to draw the constellations from memory. Tehra, the little girl on your left, likes to use sticks as staffs and pretend she’s battling invading armies. Quantra and Quentyan, twins, like to sneak to the kitchens some nights and try to wheedle snacks out of the cooks–which only works every other day or so, they inform you–to bring back to their friends. Cleolyta likes to design different styles of armor, and Nekhan loves to balance different and oddly shaped rocks to make the tallest–and coolest looking–towers.

As the children tell you their ‘secrets’ you pull toys from your satchel, allowing the children to take the ones that draw their attention. Within just a couple of minutes, each of the children are holding wooden toys carved by your Papá’s hand. They’ve quickly become distracted by the toys, and most all of the children move off a little ways to begin playing.

“Secrets are an interesting form of payment.”

You look up at the Mandalorian who spoke to you, seeing the woman with tattooed arms has moved closer, and is now sitting directly across from you. It’s hard, you realize, having a conversation with someone when you can’t see their face. It’s difficult to judge emotions, and you hadn’t realized just how much you relied on facial tics and expressions until now.

She continues, since you haven’t responded. “Do you normally deal in non-traditional forms of currency?”

“Only with the children.” You’re making a conscious effort to not fiddle with your apron, to not show your nervousness. “Tourists and visitors from other villages have to pay in coin.”

“Why?”

You shrug. “Not all of the children in my village have the spare coin to be able to purchase frivolous things such as toys. By bartering with secrets, they are still able to receive toys, without feeling as though they’re just being given handouts.”

“Hmm.”

The Mandalorian is silent for a moment, before she speaks again. “I never thought I’d see the day we allowed an aruetti into our covert. Many of the others were against allowing you to come. They can’t go against the Clan Leader directly, but they weren’t exactly subtle about their displeasure.”

You don’t know what aruetti means, but you can guess it’s not something nice. Din had told you not to worry, that their Clan Leader had given permission for you to be here, but if everyone else didn’t want you here, it would probably be best if you just left–

“Not me though. It’s nice to meet someone outside the covert. I’m Jeyenha, Jeyenha Torrva, but everyone calls me Jeye.”

Your eyes flick up to stare at the visor in front of you, before falling to the outstretched hand. You cautiously place your hand into hers, unsurprised at the firmness of her handshake. Her sudden mood shift is a little startling, but you don’t have any other choice than to run with it.

You offer your own name back, and the two of you sit once more in silence, observing the children playing around you. It’s enjoyable, watching them play so eagerly with your father’s little wooden creations that you’re once again surprised when Jeye speaks.

“Your wrist. What happened?”

Her helmet is tilted down, focused on your hands, which are folded in your lap. You look down, unsurprised to see how dark the bruise has already gotten, the individual finger marks clearly visible. You wince, already wondering how you’re going to hide this from your father.

“Some shabuir in her village doesn’t understand the word no, apparently.”

There’s a quiet thunk as Din sits down next to the two of you. Even sitting, his armor makes him look huge, almost to the point of being comical.

“What?” Jeye’s voice was a low hiss, emphasized strongly by her vocoder. “Someone in your village did this?”

You nodded slowly, surprised at the venom in her voice. “There’s a man in my village who’s determined to make me his wife, and he doesn’t care that I don’t wish to marry him.”

Din scoffs. “Saying he doesn’t care about your wishes is an understatement. He acted like he could force you into marriage, like he would do so even without your father’s blessing.”

When you don’t say anything, Din falls silent. Jeye leans forward, placing her hand on your knee.

“Sarad’ika–”

Din barely finishes saying your nickname when you look up, tears in your eyes. “He could. Gallan is one of the richest men in the village. The villagers don’t respect me, and they only barely tolerate my father because he’s a decent medic. Soon Gallan’s going to tire of hearing no, and there’s not one person in my village who would be willing to try and stand up to him.” You brush roughly at your tears, laughing bitterly. “They’ll likely drag me to the altar themselves, all while saying it’s such a blessing that Gallan would even pay attention to me.”

Din growls, the leather of his gloves creaking as his hands form into fists, and Jeye breathes a quiet “No…” at your words. You take a few steadying breaths, shaking your head.

“It’s not happened yet, and I doubt it’s going to happen soon. For right now at least, Gallan respects my father enough that he’ll wait for his blessing, although my father would likely die before doing so. The best I can do is keep my head down and try to convince him that one of the other women in the village would make a better wife.”

It’s clear that Din and Jeye don’t know what to say. You doubt that a Mandalorian woman would allow a man to speak to her the way Gallan speaks to you, and you doubt a Mandalorian man would ever try and claim a wife against her will.

“You’re welcome here,” Jeye offers suddenly, and you look at her, confused. “I’m sure Din, or Paz, or one of the others wouldn’t mind bringing you here whenever you aren’t busy in your village, and it would decrease the amount of time that mir’osik could hassle you.”

Before you can say anything, you see Din nodding solemnly. “If bringing you here every day stops him from pursuing you, then I’d be happy to do it.”

You feel tears well up in your eyes, but for a different reason this time. These two wonderful people are offering you an escape, offering up the security of their home so that you might be able to feel safer. “I–I don’t know what to say…”

“Say yes, Sarad’ika. Just say yes.” Din’s voice is insistent.

You find yourself nodding, before you’re struck by a stray thought. “W–Wait, would your Clan Leader be okay with this? I don’t want to impose or cause any more trouble, and–”

Jeye holds up her hand to stop your rambling, chuckling. “Don’t worry about him.” She seems to glance at Din for a moment before continuing. “I can’t imagine he’ll have any problems with you staying. But it’s getting late, you should be headed back.”

You hadn’t realized it, but as you look up at the ceiling, you see the dusky pink light indicative of the sunsets on Roon. Your Papá would be home soon, and he’d worry if you were gone for too long. Din stands, and offers you a hand, pulling you onto your feet. As you say goodbye to Jeye, you find yourself excited at the prospect of returning. You think you might have made two new friends, and you honestly feel more welcome in the Mandalorian covert than you ever did in your home village.

***

Over the course of the next few weeks, you find yourself spending hours of nearly every day in the covert. Your Papá was cautious at first, and he insisted on meeting Din, but after Din assured your Papá that you weren’t in any danger, he was more understanding. Your Papá knew how frustrating it could be for you in the village, constantly having to deal with snide insults and veiled barbs about anything from your body, to your manners, to your personality. The covert became an escape of sorts, and while you really only ever talked with Jeye, Din, and the children, it was much better than spending your time in the village.

You’d not met the Clan Leader yet, although both Din and Jeye assured you that he was fine with your presence. Din always acted strange whenever the Clan Leader was brought up, and you couldn’t for the life of you figure out why.

You also never saw Din as relaxed as Jeye, although you attributed that to the fact that he had to leave the covert to pick you up and to take you back to your home. The beskar armor seemed too heavy and cumbersome to be taken off and put back on multiple times a day.

And even though you tried to avoid it, you couldn’t deny your growing attraction to Din. Even when he wasn’t carrying you in his arms to bring you to and from the covert, he always seemed to be touching you, whether it was a hand against the small of your back, or on your thigh when you were sat next to him, or even just gently brushing against the wrist that Gallan had bruised, although the bruise had long since faded. You slowly grew accustomed to his touches, although you still felt as though your face was on fire every time he did.

You couldn’t tell if he knew what he was doing to you–damn helmet–but you assumed he could. He always seemed to touch you even more whenever you got flustered, almost as if it was a joke, or a game. One time, when he was guiding you into the covert while your eyes were blindfolded, he’d laid his hand against the side of your neck, his thumb pressing gently, but firmly, into your spine where your head met your neck. You swore you felt a jolt of electricity shoot through your body at his touch, and the man had the gall to ask if you were alright, all while his other fingers pressed into the skin right above your collarbone. You’d nodded jerkily, and his thumb had begun to rub soothing circles against your skin. It had felt so good, you’d almost whimpered when he removed his hand.

Despite the firm touches and the subtle flirting–because seriously, what else could it be–you managed to not make a fool of yourself, and you grew to like your new routine. Din had become a protector of sorts, and it made your insides feel light and floaty, the way you felt the first time Din flew with you. Life was good. Gallan left you alone, your Papá continued to carve toys, and for the first time ever, it felt like you’d found somewhere that you were wanted. So, of course, everything had to change.

It was about a month into your visits to the covert that this change happened. You were in the kitchen one morning when you noticed that there was a Mandalorian walking up the path to your home, but it’s not Din. You dry your hands and step outside, an anxious, gnawing feeling in your stomach telling you that something’s wrong. Din has been the one to pick you up every day, and you’re terrified something’s happened to him.

Before you can even open your mouth to voice your concerns, the Mandalorian is speaking. “Everything’s fine, Din just had some business to attend to, so he sent me.”

You cock an eyebrow, a little wary of how fast this stranger assessed your emotions, but you’re grateful nothing appears to be wrong. He stands there, silently, and you get the impression he’s waiting on you. You duck back inside the house to grab your bag, locking the door behind you. The Mando in front of you is just radiating this awkward energy, and you feel bad. You’d grown so used to Din, you didn’t really know how to react to a different Mandalorian.

“Um, so…” You trail off, grimacing at how awkward you sound. “Do I just–” You stopped yourself, shaking your head. “I’m sorry. What’s your name?”

The Mandalorian was silent for just a moment, but then he answered. “Paz.”

Your eyes widened, recognizing the name. “Oh, Din and Jeye have both mentioned you before. It’s nice to meet you.”

Paz shook his head. “Of course they did.” He chuckled. “Jeye is my wife.”

Your jaw dropped. Whenever Jeye had talked about Paz, she’d never mentioned that he was her husband. You were so going to give her shit for this.

After Paz finished laughing at you, he tied your blindfold and scooped you up in his arms, taking off into the air. The entire flight, you couldn’t help but compare Paz to Din. Paz was a good deal bigger than Din, although you weren’t entirely sure how that was possible. His arms were big and strong, like Din’s, but being carried by Paz didn’t set butterflies loose in your stomach. You tried to ignore it, but your brain refused to stop trying to compare the two men.

You were tense the entire ride to the covert, and you nearly sighed in relief when the two of you touched down. Paz set you on your feet, leading you into the cave system. He removed the blindfold when the two of you were standing in front of the main door, and he let you adjust to the lighting before he pulled the door open.

As he led you into the main room, you were surprised to see a large group of Mandalorians gathered where you usually sat with Din and Jeye. You were even more surprised when Paz suddenly stepped in front of you, his arm out slightly, keeping you behind his considerable bulk. You gently touched the back plate of his armor, silently communicating your confusion.

“Stay behind me.”

You suck in a breath, fear gripping you as you try to make yourself smaller behind Paz. You’re not sure what’s going on, and you don’t want to take any chances. You take a small measure of comfort from the fact that Paz is built like a goddamn tank, and that he could easily protect you if things turn violent, but you hope it doesn’t come to that. You can hear all the raised voices, but it takes you a moment to make out any distinguishable words, everyone is yelling too loudly.

“SHE’S A DANGER TO OUR TRIBE!”

The booming voice cuts through the others, and you barely peek around Paz’s arm to see a Mando you’d seen a couple times before–one who always seemed to be glaring at you, despite the fact that you couldn’t actually see said glare–toe to toe with another Mandalorian.

“She poses no threat to us.”

The other Mandalorian is calm, although his voice is hard with anger. With a start, you realize that this must be the Clan Leader. His chest is bare, although he’s adorned with multiple beaded necklaces. You can see a thick fur cape draped across his shoulders, but it’s his helmet that truly catches your attention. It’s made of beskar, like all the other Mando’s helmets, but attached to each side are two thick ivory horns, coming out and curving around towards his face, ending in wicked sharp points. He’s taller than nearly everyone else in the group, and his stance is commanding and powerful.

“LEAVE HER WITH HER OWN TRIBE. WE DON’T WANT HER HERE, SHE ENDANGERS US, OUR WAY OF LIFE, OUR CHILDREN–”

You squeak when the Clan Leader moves, his bare hand coming up quickly to wrap around the other Mando’s throat.

“You think I would endanger the children?” His voice is cold, emotionless. “Do you truly think so little of me? After everything I’ve done for our tribe, every battle I’ve fought, you still think you have any right to question me?” His voice isn’t rising in volume, but you can hear his mounting anger. “I am the Clan Leader. What I say goes. If you don’t like that, we can take this to The Pit.”

Paz sucks in a breath, and you’re about to ask what The Pit is when a hand lands on your arm. You whirl around, your whole body tense, but you relax somewhat when you realize it’s Jeye. Paz looks at her, and they seem to have a silent conversation before Paz nods, and Jeye takes your arm, leading you back and through one of the doorways behind you.

She gestures for you to stay quiet for a moment, before leading you into a room you’ve never been in before. There’s a fire pit in the center of the room, with separate areas sectioned off with curtains for cooking and eating. She leads you further in, around one set of curtains, and your eyes land on the large bed that dominates the space. She gestures for you to sit, and once you do, she sighs deeply.

“What was that?”

You’re ashamed at the way your voice shakes as though you’re scared, because you’re not. Not really. It was unsettling, seeing the argument, which you’ve realized by now was about you, although hearing the Clan Leader defend you so vehemently left a warm feeling in your belly.

Jeye sighs again, and begins to pace. “Some of the tribe still has reservations about you being here. We’d thought they’d gotten over it, but apparently not all of them have. Doric decided that today was a good day to confront Din about it.”

You look up at Jeye in confusion. “I didn’t see Din in there. Is he okay? What happened? Is the Clan Leader mad?” Your voice is growing more frantic, as you imagine what could have happened to him.

Jeye stops pacing, her helmet turned towards you. “Wait, what? You… you don’t know? Din never–” Jeye scoffs. “No, of course he hasn’t told you.”

“Told me what?”

There’s silence.

“Jeye. Din hasn’t told me what?”

There’s more silence, and you open your mouth to repeat yourself a third time when she speaks.

“Din is the Clan Leader.”

Your mouth snaps shut, your eyes widen comically. You open and close your mouth, trying to find the words to say… something, anything about what you’re feeling in that moment, but all your traitorous brain can focus on is how heart-stoppingly attractive Din looked without his armor on.

Before you can say anything, you hear the door open. Your eyes fly to the opening in the curtains, and lo and behold, there’s Din. He pauses, clearly taken aback that Jeye is here, but he doesn’t speak. Jeye nods twice, once to you and once to Din before she brushes past him and leaves the room, not staying around to try and explain the bombshell she’s just dropped on you.

Din stands in the gap between the curtains, just staring at you. You’re trying to look at his helmet, but his current state of dress is extremely distracting. His chest is golden and tanned, marred here and there by scars of all shapes and sizes, but it doesn’t make him any less beautiful. You can’t help but notice the trail of dark hair on his abdomen, leading to his belt buckle, which prominently features a Mudhorn, the signet of his clan. He’s wearing canvas pants, tucked into a pair of sturdy boots with a fur trim, a fur trim that matches the one on his cloak. His gloves cover his arms up to the elbow, but they’re tight enough that his muscles bulge through the fabric.

You can feel your face burning as you take in the Mandalorian before you, so unlike the one you’ve gotten to know for the past few weeks. The small infatuation you'd been harboring only grows as you look at Din now. He moves into the room, and you marvel at how he can move silently, despite his size.

He stops in front of you, his gloved hand coming up to grasp gently at your chin, pulling your face up so that he can look at you. Lacing your hands together in your lap seems like the best course of action, because otherwise you might just reach out and touch him, just to see if he’s real, and you’re not sure he’d appreciate that.

Din’s thumb rests against your cheek, stroking softly as his helmet is tilted down, looking at you. “I’m sorry you had to hear that.” His voice is quiet, apologetic, and you wonder how come you didn’t recognize it when he was arguing with the other Mando. “I promise, most of the tribe doesn’t feel that way.”

You grin, or at least, you try to. “So, when you kept saying that the Clan Leader was fine with me coming here–”

Din nods. “Truly, I am more than fine with you coming to the covert every day.”

You snort, your own hand coming up to rest against Din’s, which has moved to cradle your cheek. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

You turn your face into Din’s palm, placing a gentle kiss against the warm leather. You hear his sharp intake of breath through the vocoder, so you do it again.

“I–I didn’t want you to treat me differently,” he offers, taking your hand and pulling you to your feet. He was standing so close, and now that you’re standing, you’re practically chest to chest. “I wanted to get to know you, without you feeling… obligated to treat me like a leader.”

“Why me?”

The words leave your lips before you can stop them, and you feel your cheeks heat in embarrassment. You look down, your hands absentmindedly fiddling with the worn fabric of your apron.

Din’s hand reaches out and gently grasps yours, and you can’t help but notice that his hand can easily encompass both of yours. He curls his fingers under your chin, bringing your eyes back up, forcing you to look into his visor.

“You’re so strong, Sarad’ika.” His hand slid from underneath your chin, his palm moving to cup the side of your neck, his thumb gently resting against your beating pulse. “When I saw you arguing with that shabuir in the village, even though he could easily overpower you, you weren’t afraid.”

The intensity in his voice is doing funny things to your stomach, the feeling of butterflies increasing in strength so much so that you’re worried if you open your mouth they might escape. Your skin tingles where his hands are touching you, and you’ve never felt this before, with anyone.

“I–I’m sorry that my presence has caused trouble–” You quickly plow on, stopping Din from brushing aside your apology. “I know you said it’s okay, and that you’re fine with me here, but I know not everyone feels that way, and I’m sorry you had to deal with that.”

He sighs, and it’s very hard to not look down and watch the way his chest rises and falls with his breathing. He moves his hand so that he can intertwine his fingers with yours, bringing your combined hands up to rest on his chest, directly over his heart. You suck in a breath, and his thumb gently presses against your pulse point, slowly dragging back and forth over your skin in a soothing motion.

“I don’t care what they think, Sarad’ika. They know I would not needlessly endanger the tribe, for them to even suggest such a thing is unacceptable. There will always be those who do not like me, but they are few, and their voices are not as loud as it would seem.” Din gently leans his head down, careful of his horns, and rests his helmet against your brow. “I informed the tribe of my intentions. They will not dare to protest your appearance here, not now.”

Your brow furrows in confusion, although you are enjoying having Din so close. “What are your intentions, Din?”

He chuckles softly, and you can feel it reverberating through his chest. “Is it not obvious, Sarad’ika? You’ve come to mean so much to me over these past few weeks, and I will confess that I do not want to let you go.”

Your heart is racing at his words, and you feel unsteady on your feet, similar to how you felt after your first time flying.

“I know that Jeye has explained how our tribe works, and that the Clan Leader is held responsible for the continuation of the tribe.” You make a small noise of agreement, and wait for him to finish. “In times of peace, it is… customary, that the Clan Leader takes a riduur, a spouse.” Your mouth goes dry, and your eyes widen.

“Sarad’ika, know that I am not asking this of you lightly. I understand that you may wish to say no, and that is your choice, and I will respect you no matter your decision.” Your breathing is shallow, and your heart is beating so fast that you’re not sure you’re going to survive the next words to come out of Din’s mouth.

“But if you’ll have me… I would take you as my wife.”

#Mandalorian #Din x reader #clan leader!din #Din Djarin #Reader #reader fic #fic #masterlist #no use of Y/N #inspired by Beauty and the Beast #fanfic #multi-chapter fic #chapter 1

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thefanbasewhore · 3 years

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When are you going to post the clanleader din series?

Hopefully in the next two days, I'm getting my hair done today so I don't have much time to work on it !

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spoopyredacted · 4 years

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Happy Fanfic Writer Appreciation Day! You are a fantastic writer and I always look forward to an update on ClanLeader!Din. Not only that, but you are deliciously wonderful moodboard creator and a cheerleader and champion for other writers! 💕💕💕

🥺🥺 I AM SOFT IN THIS QUARANTINE TONIGHT

#asks #THANK YOU LOVE

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auty-ren · 4 years

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The Offer as whole is amazing so far and chapter 4 kept me on the edge of my seat.

Thank you honey💕

That final scene between Reader and Din has been living rent free in my mind ever since I posted the last chapter. I was so excited for y'all to read it and now we all get to soak up the soft Clan!Leader feels.🥰

#I act like ClanLeader!Din doesnt live in my mind 24/7 always #i love that beefy bitch #star wars #the mandalorian #pedro pascal #ask me anything #asked and answered

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auty-ren · 3 years

Text

The Offer: Chapter 8

Distractions

Pairings: The Mandalorian x Reader, Din Djarin x Reader, ClanLeader!Din x Reader.

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 6k

Warnings: Smut (oral (m), exhibitionism, rough sex, penetrative sex, public (outdoor) sex, doggy style, breeding kink, dirty talk). Descriptions of canonical violence. Implied injury. Talk of children/pregnancy. Fluff. Talk of death/’meaning of life.’ Honeymoon shenanigans. Two big idiots being in love. A little surprise for all the Mira stans out there.

A/n: I hope y’all are ready for some more world-building! We get to see a bit into Din’s past in this chapter, and shed some light on some possible ulterior motives. Second a/n at the bottom! Hope y’all enjoy💗.

Summary: Din and you finally didn't the time to slow down for a bit and you find out quickly that you weren't the only ones who had something planned.

The Offer Masterlist | My Masterlist

The stone beneath your fingertips was rough, pewter-colored grains gathering at the edge of the brick you sat on until you flicked them off with your finger. You squinted and watched the few larger pieces you could see as they fell to the ground, collecting just a few inches from your feet. A chunkier, darker colored boot came into your line of sight and you followed the path up his legs until you were met with the matte blue of Paz’s visor. You squinted through a smile as he tilted his head, blocking the sun from your face and gesturing to your boot.

“Do you like them?”

The leather squeaked as you flexed your toes in your boot, your foot turning to the side as you lift your leg a little to show it off. You nodded, a sheepish grin plastering across your face knocked your heels together.

Paz didn't have to ask where you had gotten them; they were brand new, a practically perfect fit, and made specifically for you.

“....at your husband's request.”

You shouldn't have expected less from Din, especially from the way he had reacted when the sole of your original shoe finally gave out. He had made such a big deal out of it; even after you told him it was fine, tossing them to the side and continuing with a simple pair of slip-ons you had. Din wasn't so quick to dismiss it, he picked up the boot in question and watched as the split in the arch grew wider and puckered when he squeezed it in his hand.

It was a surprise to find the new pair sitting on the table this morning, along with a note handwritten by Din.

“These have been made for you at your husband's request. Please, take very good care of them. -Din.”

You could practically hear the playful attitude in his voice and picture the laugh he probably had as he wrote out the words.

The written ink was smeared, the corners of the spare paper fraying, and some of the letters were hard to make out; but you loved all of it, every flaw and every second of care that Din had poured into such a simple thing. You had smoothed out any creases that had been left in the paper, being careful to not spread any of the ink further, and placed the note inside one of the books in the chest that sat at the end of your shared bed, another one of Din's gifts. It felt silly sometimes to hold on to such trivial things; but when you read the note again, one last time before putting it in the chest for safe-keeping, it didn't feel silly at all. It felt warm and airy and it tickled your cheeks with a feeling you had only ever had around Din.

“You don’t have to wait with me you know?” you peered up at Paz and tilted your head to mirror his. “I’m perfectly capable of finding him without you.”

“I know that Vod’ika,” Paz crossed his arms and leaned against the same wall you sat on. “I figured you would like the company.”

“Always,” you bumped your shoulder against his playfully, looking to the entry of the great hall just a few feet from where you sat.

It was quiet around the great hall, most people being respectful of the council and leaving an empty and silent place for them to work in. You stood from your seat, walking just a few steps in front of you until you were met with the adjacent wall, leaning forward and craning your neck to look at the sky.

“Did he say why he sent for me?” you questioned, though it wasn't bothersome on your end, it did make you wonder what was so important for Din to send someone for you instead of just looking for you himself.

“He only asked me to bring you to him, once the council had finished,” Paz gestured to the door. “They should be done at any moment.”

It wasn't a few minutes later that you found yourself walking the halls just a few steps behind Paz, Mandalorians passed the two of you; your path seemingly going in the wrong direction from the way they flowed down the hall. You nodded to the people who noticed you, most of them giving a simple acknowledgment of your presence; the few without helmets offering a smile.

Some stray voices carried through the halls, echoing off the stone and mostly indistinguishable by the time they found you. You followed Paz turning a corner where the voices grew louder as you stepped through the threshold of a doorway.

There was a long table that stretched across nearly every inch of the room, a few groups of people still lingering as they slowly filed out of the room. Din stood at the head of the table, speaking to an older Mandalorian who carried his helmet under his arm, his hair was greyed and worry-lines set deep into his features. Their conversation hushed as you and Paz neared, Din's helmet turning to follow the direction his counterpart had looked. He said your name softly, turning to face you better.

“As requested,” Paz joked as he stepped towards the other two men. “Took me far too long to find her, you should keep a better track of her, Djarin.”

You rolled your eyes at the laugh they shared, grinning as you watched the two of them shake hands and joke with one another.

“Cyar'ika,” Din turned to you and held his hand out to you. You took it and went to stand at his side, leaning towards him as your fingers intertwined. He gestured to the unnamed Mandalorian, repeating your name to him and introducing the two of you.

“This is Medrit, a member of our council and my mentor from when I was a youngling.”

You had seen Medrit around in the village before, mostly when you had sat at dinner with Mira; but you had yet to speak with him. His demeanor told that he was someone of importance, and the decorations that sat on his chest were a testament to that as well.

You smiled at him, nodding as he repeated your name and offered you his hand to shake.

“Din Djarin has told me much about you,” Medirt spoke, smiling fondly as he patted Din on the shoulder. “I'm sorry I missed your presentation and have failed to meet you before this.”

“Medrit and I have been busy.” Din sounded almost shy, something that sounded so foreign to you. Medrit seemed to agree, exchanging a look with Din that did not go unnoticed.

“But I hope to know you better, very soon.”

He reminded you so much of Din, in the way he spoke and carried himself. You wondered if we're seeing a glimpse of Din's future, the thought of his hair greying at his temples bringing a smile to your face.

“I would like that very much.”

Medrit and Paz said their goodbyes not too long after, following the last few people who remained out of the room. Din and you were left alone, save for the guards who were paired at the doors. Before you could think of asking, Din dismissed them; the two of them shuffling out of the room at his command and pulling the heavy wooden doors closed with a thud.

“You never told me you had a throne.” You teased him, pointing to the chair that was behind him. It was noticeably larger than the others at the table; made of the same wood, deep, rich in color with designs and phrases etched into the arch that served as the backrest. The chair wasn't much different than the rest, but you noticed it nonetheless, grinning at him as he shook his head.

“It's not a throne, Cyar'ika.” You could hear the grin on his voice, his helmet pressing gently against your forehead as he squeezed your hand.

“You look beautiful.”

The leather of his gloves was warm against your face, following along your jaw until he pushed them into your hair.

“Your hair?” He questioned, his fingers pulling away once he noticed resistance.

“The children,” You smiled at the memories, shrugging a little when Din chuckled. “They wanted to practice.”

Some days it felt like there wasn't much you could do to contribute to the Clan. As much as you hated following Mira around as if you were lost, especially since you were married to their Alor; she never minded the company or the help for that matter.

You sat with her for lunch just outside the gated areas that served as the gardens, sitting on empty crates and sharing some of the food you had spent the morning picking. It’s where you met Korri, a sweet girl about your age with kind eyes and a quick tongue that kept even Mira’s smart mouth at bay. You noticed how Mira’s eyes focused on her when she spoke and the way their hands brushed against each other anytime they stood near each other. You didn’t mean to tease Mira badly but, you couldn’t resist seeing the meek expression that crossed her face when you questioned her about it. The two of you were alone and gossiping like schoolgirls over bushels of food; sorting the good from the bad once most of it had been harvested. Korri had joined you, fitting right into your conversation once the awkward tension had dissipated.

As you ate together, you watched as children ran around, playing games of their imagination, their laughter carrying through the gardens. You had learned a few of their names, becoming familiar with them as the times you helped Mira grew in number. Sometimes during your breaks they would come and sit with you, asking questions with an innocence that only seemed understandable because of their age. Most of them understand what your marriage to Din meant, and a few of the older ones had even made a habit of calling you their Alor; a title you knew they used with no real bearing but was a little joke between you and them.

And of course, when one of them came up to you and begged you to let them practice on your hair, you had no resolve to tell them no.

They were careful, as careful as someone so young could be; twisting sections of your hair into different patterns until they found one they liked. Eventually pulling most of it back from your face and securing it with a tie. They insisted on picking some of the small clusters of wildflowers that grew along the fences of the garden and putting them in the ties of your hair. You sat and let them work for as long as they liked, thanking them and making over their handy work as they giggled at your praise.

The children were all very sweet, and some days you looked forward to them following you while you worked, enjoying their company no matter how tedious it could be.

“You look beautiful.” He repeated the sentiment from earlier, his voice just barely above a whisper.

You pressed yourself up against him, your hands resting on his chest while his arms fell to hold onto your hips. You tilted your head, batting your eyes as you looked up at him with a pout.

“Kiss me.”

He groaned a little, squeezing his arms tighter around you.

“Not in here, Cyar'ika.” he sighed, his breath hitching a little when you leaned to press a kiss on the spot where his chest and neck met. “I can't.”

You nuzzled your nose in his skin, dragging your lips up and down and leaving a trail of kisses in their wake. His fingers dug into your flesh, his hands flexing sharply as your nails running gently down his chest, stopping at the signet that cast his belt.

“Sit down, then.”

You pushed his shoulders, watching as he followed your direction and sat in his seat; his thighs spreading naturally as you kneeled in-between them.

When you finally put your mouth on him, he had nearly shot straight out of his chair from how hard his hips bucked. He was wound tight, his cock hard and throbbing under your touch from you teasing him; running your nails over his skin, and mouthing kisses onto his tummy, just barely ghosting over his groin.

He moaned your name, the sound practically melodic even through the metallic filter of his helmet, as you locked eyes with him. You guessed about where they'd be under there, imagining the vivid, dark color of his irises as you had seen them just this morning.

“You look so beautiful, Cyar'ika.” He groaned when he hit the back of your throat, choking out a curse as you slowly pull your mouth back up the length of his cock. “Taking my cock like this.”

You pulled off him with a wet pop, giving a few sweet kisses to the tip before wrapping your lips around him again.

“I don't deserve you, sweet girl.”

“We'll make it on foot, but it'll take a little while to get there.”

“You still haven't told me where we are going.” You released the strap of your bag to grab Din's hand your finger intertwining and your paces synchronizing as if from memory.

You had been walking on this trail for a while, it was one you had never been on before, but Din seemed to know where he was going. So you followed him, watching over your shoulder as the village slowly disappeared into the treeline behind you.

“That is the point of a surprise, Cyar'ika.”

A surprise.

Although it had been almost three months since you had married him, Din still surprised you. Sometimes in the form of his words, his actions, and sometimes with gifts; all things you told him weren’t necessary but he insisted on giving to you, his way of making sure you were taken care of. Of all the things Din could be, he was protective and caring in ways you had never realized could be so intimate with another person.

You knew he would kill for you, and you were sure he had threatened that before.

You had never brought it up, but you knew Din had threatened Kron the night of your presentation. You could count on one hand the number of times you had seen him since, a stark contrast to how he seemed to loom over you in the months prior. While you knew Kron deserved every word that Din had spoken to him, part of you couldn’t help but wonder about it. You were happy to put the experience behind you but part of you worried that it was about something that laid below the surface. You had never even known why Kron had even shown interest in speaking with you in the first place.

“That man, Kron,” you spoke before you had even decided if it was best to bring this up. “Why do you think he hates me?”

He didn’t say anything at first, taking a moment as if he needed to collect his thoughts, the gears turning under the shin of his helmet as he figured out what to say.

“I don't think he hates you, Cyar'ika.”

You scoffed, earning your hand a squeeze as he turned his head to look at you.

“Well, I would've believed otherwise.”

He stopped fully, your hands still connecting the two of you when you stopped just a second after he did, turning to face him. He sighed, breath coming from deep within his chest and causing his shoulders to raise with the force of it.

“He's angry with me,” he paused, still gathering his thoughts as if he needed to decipher what exactly to tell you. “and he never should have taken that out on you.”

“Why would he be angry with you?”

Maybe it was better to drop the subject, but you couldn’t help the curiosity you felt; an itching feeling that got worse with every word Din said.

“Because I beat him.”

The Mandalorians had a particular way of running things, traditions, and governments that sometimes dated back farther than anyone could remember. It didn’t surprise you that it wasn't a matter of electing someone to become their leader, they had to prove themselves just like they did as a child.

“Our leader before me was a wise man named Goran.” Din paused for a moment, leaning his head back until his visor pointed to the sky and then dipped to look at you. “When the time came, he had no children, successors to carry on his line.”

Shortly after the Verd’goten, The elders had announced that the future chief would be chosen from younglings hand-picked by the council. There were days, weeks dedicated to the trials that had been prepared for them; tests of their skill as a leader, a warrior, a Mandalorian. Something like that didn’t happen every day, and nearly all of the village watched as each of the candidates were tested; it became a game of sorts.

Both Din and Kron had been chosen by the members of the council, both of them had succeeded at nearly every challenge and in the final weeks, they were the only two competitors left.

“He was a few years older than me,” He started walking again, pulling you along with him as you listened to him retell it. “Much bigger and more experienced than I was. I think everyone thought he would be chosen.”

The story Mira told you when you first asked about Din was true. As a final test of their strength, both were sent on a hunt; they needed to kill the Mudhorn that had been terrorizing part of the village. Taking down such a creature would be the ultimate approval of a warrior’s capability and skill, and their willingness to protect those who are innocent.

Din had won.

The night he had made his way back to the village, carrying the horn of the beast over his back as evidence of his victory, he was welcomed with open arms. The celebration has lasted for a week and at the end of it, he was crowned the new chief.

“You are the only living thing that has seen my face, since.”

The tenants of his creed had been solidified then, with status came the change and responsibility greater than most had.

“How old were you?”

He hesitated, almost as if he was ashamed to admit it.

“Fifteen.”

“You were just a child.”

“Maybe, so.” He looked at you, his free hand coming up to squeeze the fingers still tightly wrapped around his bicep.

“It must have been hard on you, having enormous responsibility so young.”

You could never imagine the burden Din had to carry and to have it from such a young age; sometimes you had no idea how Din had survived for so long on his own.

“This is the way.”

You placed a kiss on the pauldron of his shoulder, right over the Mudhorn signet that had been molded into the beskar, laying your head against the cold metal as you walked in silence again.

There may never come a time when you fully understand Din's creed, and even if you sometimes thought his life would be easier without it, you never wanted to disrespect his beliefs. You would be there for him, even when you disagreed with his reasoning. Making sure he didn't carry such a weight single-handedly anymore was the only thing you concerned yourself with; Din knowing he didn't have to do this alone anymore was all that mattered.

“One day my time will end, and there will be someone to take the helm just as I did from him.”

You had talked about things like this with Din before, most of the conversation happening in the late hours of the night as you tried to find sleep; you talked about a future, the life you wanted to lead with him, and what would become of that. And want the end would look like.

“I don't want to think about that.” You dismissed him, looping your arm around his tighter and pushing any sort of similar thought from your mind.

“All things must come to pass, Cyar'ika.” His tone was gentle, the words almost lost from how quietly he spoke them. “One of our children will be the next to lead us, and I will die at peace knowing they are prepared to take my place.”

“Our children will be lucky to have a father like you to teach them,” you smiled, shaking your head as you looked at him. “I don't think there's much I could do.”

Din slowed his steps, pulling his arm from your grip and he stood in front of you again. Something in him changed, his demeanor much sharper, determined than what it had been before.

“You have overcome so much in your life, Cyar'ika.” He was quiet again, his words carrying an emotion you could feel as he stepped closer to you, the space separating the two of you falling away to practically nothing.

“Just because you have never wielded a weapon in battle does not make your life less honorable.”

He guided your gaze back on him when it fell, his knuckles gently running along your jaw and tapping against your chin as a request for you to look at him.

“Never degrade yourself from anything less than deserving.”

Din had a way of saying just the right thing, it was as if he had time to carefully plan every single word before it fell from his lips. You smiled up at him as he held your face in his hands, the leather of his gloves contrasting the warmth that you felt in your cheeks.

“If our children are half as kind as you are, Cyar'ika….then I know we will have done something right for them.”

“Don't look.”

“I'm not.”

You couldn't help but giggle at how silly this felt; the kind of feeling that was light, and innocent and left butterflies that swirled inside your stomach when Din laughed at you.

“See,” you squeezed your hands dramatically over your face, trying to prove you had no intention of breaking your promise. “I can't see a thing.”

Even with a half-hearted attempt at reassurance, Din wasn't convinced you'd keep true to your word.

“Yeah?”

You felt the soft fabric of a blindfold cover your face, you slipped your hands out from under it as Din tied it in a knot at the back of your head.

“I think I know you better than that, Cyar'ika.”

His arms wrapped around your waist and hauled you off the rock you had taken a break on.

“A girl can try can't she?” He spun you around until you faced in the other direction, setting you down as you gripped his biceps to keep your balance.

“Maybe,” he turned around, and you heard the sound of him moving around a little bit, then his unfiltered voice hit your ear. “But then you'll ruin the surprise.”

He took the bag from your shoulders and you reached out for him blindly, your belongings hitting the forest floor with a dull thud. He held on to your wrists and gave you a quick kiss on the lips before he lifted you into his arms. One of his hands settled underneath your knees, while the other wrapped around your waist.

You couldn't tell why Din had brought you out here, you couldn't see much as the path disappeared under your feet, the worn cut that had been made on the forest floor blending back into its surroundings. Din had insisted you close your eyes as soon as you reached the end, and he guided you to sit and wait until he was ready. The trail had led to the start of a hill from what you could tell, the sun shining brightly on the other side and casting both of you in a shadow as you stood at its base. Din grunted as he started up the hill, and you dug your fingers tighter into his furs as you shifted in his arms.

He carried you to the top; even with you commenting on how capable you were at walking he just ignored you.

“This is about you, Cyar'ika.”

“About me?” You could feel the sunlight pass over your features from behind your blindfold, warm and kissing your skin as you grinned up at him.

He sat you down once he passed the top, helping you balance yourself against him with his hands still roaming your sides. He turned you around with a kiss to your lips, your back pressing against his chest.

“Are you ready?”

He pressed his lips into your shoulder, trailing sweet kisses up your neck until he reached your ear; his voice rumbling deep in his chest as he whispered the words into your skin.

“I hope.”

There was a nervousness that settled in your stomach, an excitement that flooded your veins but left you woozy as you leaned against him. You felt his hands reach for the blindfold, loosening the knot and letting the soft material fall away from your eyes.

It took a moment for you to adjust to the light, the sun was bright and hovering over the horizon, bathing everything in a beautiful golden glow and you shuddered out a breath when everything came into view.

It went on forever, large stretches of meadow littered with pinks and reds that swirled in gentle patterns; flowers of every kind dancing around your feet and tickling the skirt of your dress. You could see the colors vividly under the brightness of the setting sun; blooms that were full and in every shape imaginable stood at your fingertips.

“Do you like it?”

You felt him smiling against your skin, peppering small kisses along your jaw and cheek.

“It's wonderful.”

You turned in his arms, your faces just a hairbreadth away from one another as a question burned on the tip of your tongue.

“Din, how did you-”

“It's yours.” Din cut you off, his hand cupping your jaw while his thumb gently ran across the apple of your cheek.

“Mine?”

He held onto you tighter, and you felt like you were gonna burst; your chest swelling with the immeasurable feeling you got every time he looked at you.

“I’m giving it to you.”

You could see the warmth hidden behind a heavy-set brow, his irises a deep, rich color that sparkled with golden flecks of sun and left you breathless. His kiss was soft and left your mouth burning in the wake of his touch, your hands threading through his hair and pulling him deeper as your lips slotted together.

“Every year, that is the trail we use when we go on our hunts,” Din explained pulling away just enough for the words to slip past his lip, his palms still caressing the side of your face.

“And every year we pass by this meadow without so much as a second glance.”

Your hands wandered to hold Din’s arms, your fingers trailing along the length of his forearm until they came to rest at his wrists. He smiled as you squeezed them in your palms, your forefinger tracing tiny patterns on the underside of his arm.

“But this time, Cyar'ika, all I could think about was you.”

You felt tears brimming at his words, and when they finally rolled down your cheeks he brushed them away; catching them with his thumb as they fell from your eyes.

“So I'm giving it to you.”

He kissed you again, his mouth heavy against yours and his touch like molten that left a gentle burn underneath your skin. His taste was practically burned on your tongue by the time you pulled away from him, your threaded fingers the only thing that stayed connected as you led him deeper into the meadow. He was impatient, stopping you much sooner than you had planned, your chest colliding as he pulled you back to his arms. Warm, wet kisses trailed over your neck, his teeth sinking into the sensitive spot on your shoulder, making you groan in his ear. You gasped as your hands ran over his back, your nails scratching lightly and traveling to pull the curls at the base of his neck.

You don't remember how you got to the ground, it doesn't even register that you're moving until you feel the solid earth beneath you, pinned by Din's weight. His hands felt like they were everywhere at once, warm, and calloused against your skin once he removed his gloves. They pulled at pieces of your clothes, your own hands going to pull the latches that held Din's cape.

“You want to give me warriors, Cyar'ika?” He growled into your ears, your bodies rutting against each other as you desperately tried to strip yourself of enough layers to have each other. “Be my sweet Riddur and bare my children?”

Din chuckled at the completely sinful sound that left your lips, half-concocted strings of pleas spewing from your mouth; begging for him to touch you, to kiss you, to fill you to the brim with everything that was him.

“Let me breed you, sweet girl, as a proper husband should.”

He wasn't gentle when his hips finally rocked into yours, but it felt so blissful; like your body was tingling with excitement and about to burst with each cant of his hips.

Your knees dug into the dirt beneath you, the material of Din's cape doing nothing to cushion you from the weight of his thrusts; the sound of your love-making the only thing that could be heard over the moans you shared.

He clung to you as if his life depended on it, kissing every inch of you he could reach and gripping you hard enough to leave imprints of his hands on your skin.

He swallowed the screams that laid on the edge of your tongue in a kiss, his fingers circling your clit as you ride your high over and over again. You were so sensitive when he had finally finished, your nerves heightened and your cunt glistening with the mixture of your releases.

You shared ‘I love you’s between slow kisses, your lips swollen and sensitive as he nipped them between his teeth. You held him close, burying your nose in his hair as you lay beneath a painted sky, every color imaginable dancing above you as the world continued slowly from day into night.

There was hardly a shred of sunlight left in the sky as you made your way back to the village. Din all but led you, the darkness making the forest a little more difficult to move through; your fingers gripped any piece of his clothing you could reach, clinging to his side as if you were afraid he'd leave you behind.

He chuckled a little bit as one of your hands gripped his cape, the other landing on his bicep and walking directly behind him, your head resting on his shoulder blade. You let go of him as he tapped your hand, stopping in his tracks to brace himself and telling you to climb into his back. You hesitated for a moment, you have no idea how much longer it would be to get home; there was no way Din could be comfortable carrying you for that long.

“Come on, Cyar'ika.” He turned his helmet to look at you, what little moon that was out tonight glinting off the visor.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, jumping when he told you to and moving with him as his arms helped you settle on his back. He walked a little slower but he still seemed to navigate the trail better than you. You could feel the breaths he took from under his helmet, his chin peeking out from under his helmet from your angle. You laid your head against his shoulder and hummed as you squeezed his neck tighter, your finger sticking out to tickle him along his jawline. He flinched slightly, huffing out a laugh as he groaned out a meaningless warning. You settled your cheek against his pauldron, looking out as slopes of land started to form under the faint shine of the moon. The night was still around you, the only noise that registered being the thump of Din's boots on the ground and the faint sound of a broken breeze that wafted through the woods. You could see lights from the villager's home through the thinning treeline, the mountains that served as the backdrop of your home glowing with blue hue under the moonlight.

“We're almost there.” You commented, pointing a finger in the direction of the village.

Din slowed for a second and lifted his head to follow your hand, commenting on your ‘good eye.’ You huffed and held on tighter to his neck, trying to hold some of your body weight up to make it easier for him.

It didn't take much longer to reach the edge of the forest, the homes of the village much closer and more lively than they had looked from a distance.

There was something uneasy that washed over as you slipped from Din's grip, your feet landing flat on the ground that felt alive underneath you. The earth was rumbling, hardly noticeable but it tickled you through the soles of your boots as you stood still. You look over to find Din looking towards the village, his hand reaching out for you and pulling you to stand behind him. He held onto your hand with a bruising grip as if he were afraid you would slip through his fingertips.

It hit before you could ask him what was wrong, a blinding light that knocked you to your feet and left you scrambling against the dirt beneath you. There was a pounding inside of your head, a deafening sound that was shrill and left ringing in your ears. Your head was spinning as you tried to sit up, fighting against a heavy weight that kept you pinned to the ground. There were sounds of voices, muffled yelling that barely registered as you blinked up at the sky.

The canopy of the trees was glowing in shades of violent reds that swirled around bellows of smoke. Your body felt heavy, every breath that passed through your lungs burned as you pushed against the pressure that held you down. You tried to move again, your arms limp and scratching against the dirt as shadows passed over your face. Some limbs seemed to move with yours slowly, with heavy hands bumping yours in their search for purchase. And then the weight was lifted, your vision blurring at the sight of Din's silver helmet. His hands held your face, words falling from his lips that were suffocated by the chaos that roared around you. Your eyes felt heavy, every time you blinked it was like heaven to have them close for just a second longer.

You looked at him, watching the colors dance across the profile of his helmet with words stuck on your tongue; sentences lost in the confusion that had settled over your mind. He was still talking to you, his arms sliding under your body to haul you off the ground; the remnants of a promise hitting your ear as your eyes finally closed.

“.... you're gonna be okay.”

Translations:

Vod’ika- Little sister

Alor- Leader, chief

Verd’goten- Mandalorian rite of passage

Riddur- Spouse, Husband/Wife

A/N (pt2): Y’all remember when the reader talked about how much she liked flowers because its something she remembers from her childhood??? Well Din did.

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The Offer

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#the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x you #din djarin x you #the mandalorian fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #star wars fanfiction #clan leader au #clan leader mando #the offer #dyn jarren #mando x you #mando x reader #my writing #smut

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auty-ren · 4 years

Text

The Offer: Chapter 1

Introductions

Pairing: ClanLeader!Mando x Reader (no y/n)

Rating: Explicit (for future chapters)

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: Mentions of violence, Blood, Injury, Longing, Pet names

A/N: After the feedback on my preview, I decided to make this into a full-fledge fic. This chapter is a little slow in terms of action but I wanted to establish some things before we dived into filth. I’m honestly so excited and I hope y’all enjoy. Comments and feedback always appreciated. ClanLeader!Au created by @magichandthing

Chapter 2

P.S. Mira is an OC I created for this story and she will be in future chapters.

P.P.S. I also posted it on AO3 if you prefer that forum.

Summary: You run into a Mandalorian who wants to repay a debt. Little did you know you'd meet the most alluring man along the way. Din Djarin.

“Have you thought about my offer?”

“Yes, I have,” you sighed.

“And?”

“I accept"

—

You can’t recall when the calm began and the fighting ended. For most, the lines between peace and war blurred a long time ago. It certainly affected the locals of the planet you were currently living on. Manual labor was the only thing you could offer to the galaxy, picking up jobs here and there to buy rations of food. Scavenging for metals, digging, harvesting, and menial tasks were all that made up your day. You survived this long, longer than your family, longer than most of the galaxy, but it felt part of you had died long ago.

After the empire, life was truly never the same for anyone. They drained the galaxy of everything it had, leaving destruction and barrenness in its wake. The Imps had caused most of the galaxy to become a shell of what it once was, the only thing that seemed to thrive was lawlessness. You saw it in the faces of people in the market, in the seemingly empty homes that ran alongside the town, an emptiness that was buried deep in wounds trying so desperately to heal.

Everyone tried to live their lives just as they have done before. Children still played in the streets, people walked together laughing, but the happiness was only skin deep, masking the grief of the galaxy. It was something that ate away at you, an emptiness that created a growing void over time. You could feel your mind falling away, going numb to the routine of your life. Your conscious embraced something that seemed to root from deep inside you, it had burrowed into your soul one ago, slowly eating away at the rest of you. It was becoming suffocating, exhausting you past the point any manual labor could. You feared you would never escape its clutch. Living and working and dying on this horrible little planet, where no one would miss you. Your loneliness became your one solace and your worst enemy. Alone, all you could do was immerse yourself in work, trying desperately to hold onto something you never had in the first place. It was a vicious cycle you weren’t sure could ever be broken. That was until the woman happened.

You couldn’t remember exactly what transpired. How any of it happened really. It was a day like any other, just as routine and conventional as they had been since you got here. You do remember being smacked across the face with something hard, falling to the ground. The taste of copper flooding your senses, and wetness pouring down your face. You had reached up to cradle yourself, blood seeping through your fingertips.

Everything surrounding that moment was a blur. The woman had offered her hand, apologizing for the injury. You had seen her before; walking through the market and even arguing with some of the townsfolk. She was truly hard to miss, she walked with a swagger of confidence and carried practically every weapon known to the galaxy on her back. She was always dressed in a maroon color, her armor is the only thing that offsets the monochromatic trend. It was much different than anything she had seen before.

If anyone else stood in her place you would've fled fearing the worst, but your mind was muddled, unable to comprehend the Mandalorian standing above you. Something was different about her, at least from the other mercenaries that came through. You had witnessed her differing moral compass at work before. She once threatened a man who came through town, a common criminal like most who came through. Unlucky for him, he robbed one of the places she frequented, taking the entirety of the merchants’ earnings. Everyone, including yourself, just stood by, too afraid of the confrontation. She, however, intercepted him before he could leave, disarming him quickly and leaving his unconscious body on the ground. She gave the credits back to the merchant.

“There is no honor among thieves,” she had huffed, annoyed with the disturbance of her day.

As she turned to leave you spoke up, asking her why she had even bothered.

“This is the way.”

—

“How long have you lived on this planet?” She inquired, crossing her arms and leaning against the wall. Her helmet glinted in the sunlight, causing her presence to practically glow in the shade of the alleyway.

“Long enough,” you huffed, holding a cloth to your nose trying to reduce the bleeding. Why would she ask such a question? Since when did Mandalorians care for small talk?

“You don’t like it?” The woman didn’t sound surprised. Her tone rolled in an almost sarcastic way.

You just huffed in response. You hoped if you seemed uninterested the woman would leave you alone. It felt like an interrogation, intimidated by the domineering presence of a Mandalorian. At this point, you just wanted to return to your day, no matter how draining it would be.

“Would you like to leave?”

Those words rang in your ears, echoing even now as you sat in the belly of the woman’s ship, being carted off to a planet unrecognizable. The dizziness from earlier seemed to subside, especially since the woman gave you a shot of some sort, claiming it would help.

“Where are we going?” you mumbled.

“To my clan,” the woman responded, busying herself with the controls in front of her.

“Your clan?”

“To my home,” she clarified, not bothering to look up. “You will be welcome there and can rest, heal.”

“You’re taking me to your home because of this?” you gestured to your face, no doubt bruised and blooded. If it looked as bad as it had felt, you were sure it wasn’t pretty.

She paused in her actions, thinking carefully about her next words.

“It is my fault you sustained these injuries, you were innocent and did not deserve my wrath. Therefore, I will make sure you are healed and it will be much more comfortable for both of us if we return to my clan.”

The Mandalorian seemed unbothered by the notion of taking a stranger back to her home as if she does it regularly. But you figured it didn’t concern you. If this Mandalorian and her clan lived up to the stories you heard, they weren’t afraid of anyone.

“What’s your name?” you asked. If you were going to be staying, you couldn’t keep referring to her as “the woman.”

“You can call me Mira.”

—

The rest of the flight was spent in silence. You eventually moved to sit with Mira in the cockpit. Watching as she worked to prepare the ship for landing. You wondered what Mira’s home would be like. The Mandalorians were known to be the fiercest warriors in the galaxy. You had heard the stories before; tales of battle, triumph, and loss. Stories of the most formidable soldiers in the galaxy.

Regret started to cloud the corners of your mind. Fear of what you had gotten yourself into seeped into your chest, tightening your rib cage with each breath you took. Truly, you had no desire to stay and heal with Mira, you mainly wanted to escape her life previously. Opportunities to leave we’re few, especially with no status in the New Republic. When Mira had offered, there was no hesitation to get off that forsaken planet. You weren’t sure if things went sour you would be strong enough to get yourself out of it.

When the ship fell out of hyperspace, Mira’s home finally came into view. It definitely wasn’t what you expected, it was such a beautiful and peaceful looking place, tucked away in the far corners of the galaxy.

The planet was covered in a green lushness, the sky littered with enormous clouds that reflected the sun giving them faint hues of color. As you entered through the atmosphere, you saw the planet was lined with dense areas of forest. Trees reached the heavens, with fat brightly colored leaves adorning them. The forests stretched for most of the planet's surface, with large mountains that loomed far in the distance.

Mira landed in a clearing on the edge of a forest. Some other ships surrounded them, you recognized a few of the models from your time working as an apprentice. You figured these probably belonged to the rest of Mira’s clan. Mira couldn’t have been the only one who left the planet.

You stood staring at the mountains while Mira unloaded your ship. You had never seen a place this mesmerizing in your life. The sun was beginning to set, painting the landscape in red and purple rays. The air was fresh and crisp, filling your lungs with a gentleness you hadn’t felt in years. Everything seemed so bright and livid compared to your previous homes.

Mira called for you, climbing onto the back of a speeder driven by an R2 unit, loaded with supplies. You murmured an apology, settling among the crates and stretching your feet in front of you, Mira did the same mirroring her position.

“It will take some time to get to the village.” Mira’s tone was passive, in a matter of fact sort of way.

You gave a nod to let her know you heard her. As you tried to sleep, cushioned by the bags lining the speeder, you were reminded of the dull ache still permeating your face. The excitement of arrival had clouded the pain, but as you sat consumed by only your thoughts, it returned. Your face was no doubt swollen and puffy. You just hoped your nose wasn’t broken, you hoped it was nothing more than some swelling. Exhaustion was creeping up, and you wanted to succumb to it but the persistent throb of pain kept you from it.

Suddenly the speeder came to an abrupt halt, jolting you to the side.

“We’re here,” Mira started getting up and slinging sacks of supplies over her shoulders. “Follow me.”

You got up to follow as quickly as your legs would let you, holding onto the crates for support, your balance became unsteady as the pain pulsed harder. Whatever Mira originally gave you was wearing off. Before you could step foot off the speeder you were overwhelmed by the presence of what you can only gather is Mira’s clan.

People rushed to the speeder to help unload, brushing past you except for a curious glance. Most of them wore helmets like Mira, some of them didn’t. Either way, it was hard to keep track of the direction Mira moved. You were sure you’d lost her until you saw the glint of her helmet ahead.

That woman moves entirely too fast.

You continued to follow her, securing your own bag across your shoulders. You tried to move quickly, bumping into people on the way. You apologized to everyone you ran into, which was seemingly the entire clan at this point. You could feel the embarrassment rising, you just wanted to find Mira and it was getting frustrating at this point. It was hard to focus on the surroundings with the pain shooting through your skull. You nearly fell and ran into something you were sure was a wall. It was firm whatever it was and caused you to wince, jolting back from the pain that pulsed in her face.

“Easy,” a voice said that was much deeper than Mira’s.

Arms came up to steady you, and a warmth radiated towards you. You looked up and saw a dark visor staring back at you that was certainly not Mira’s

He was a Mandalorian but stood out from the rest in a way that demanded attention. His authoritative demeanor rolled off him in ways. His helmet was shiny and unlike Mira’s, two large tusks jutted out from the bottom, curling around to the front of his mask. His clothes were the same deep maroon Mira donned. He wore a cape with a large fur that sat on his pauldron covered shoulders, draping down his back. His forearms were accented with sleeves made of leather and cloth that bleed into a tattooed pattern tracing along his arms. Yet, his chest was bare except for the necklaces he wore; round beads and animal teeth were woven together to sit in the middle, set off by the toned muscle of his chest and torso. At his waist was a thick belt with a large buckle resting in the middle. It shone with the same luster as his helmet, it was molded into the shape of some creature. It seemed familiar but no matter how hard you tried to focus, you couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was.

His fingers lightly traced your chin, bringing your eyes back up to his visor. You didn’t realize you were just standing there, ogling over him. It was entirely unintentional, you had never seen anything like him before. You felt scolded like a child, almost embarrassed by your staring. Face suddenly growing very hot under his gaze.

“You must watch where you’re going,” his hushed baritone hit her ears, “or you’ll hurt yourself.” That voice quite possibly the most heavenly sound you had heard. You willed herself to speak but nothing came out, your mind was completely blank. It was as if you were stuck, only able to stare back up into this stranger.

“It’s a little too late for that,” Mira appeared to his right, arms crossed over her chest. The man turned to her and offered Mira a greeting in an unfamiliar language. They shook, hands clasped together at the forearms as if they were old friends.

“Who is this sweet girl?” The man asked, turning back towards you. The name he called you did not go unnoticed, and you felt your face getting even hotter. Mira began to explain the details of your meeting.

Mira refers to your injuries, and gently takes your chin and tilts your head so the Mandalorian can examine it better. Your instincts told you to run, to go anywhere else but here, but you remained planted firm to the ground. They were so close to you, examining as if you were just some object. You couldn’t even see their faces and yet they overwhelmed you. You had never wanted to disappear so badly at that moment.

They continued conversing in whatever native tongue they possessed. You stood there feeling much too exposed for your liking. More people seemed to notice your presence, looking in the direction of the three of you. Some murmured, looking between you and the two Mandalorians. There was no malice behind their intentions; you knew this but standing there with all those eyes watching your every move was not where you wanted to be.

Eventually, the man gestured to something behind him, Mira nodded and took a hold of your arm leading you away.

“One of the elders will be with us to help you shortly,” Mira led you in the direction of what you assumed was her home. You didn't even register you had moved until you were almost inside. You weren’t entirely sure if it was your wounds or the domineering exchange between the Mandalorian that left you light headed. Either way, you wanted nothing more than to lay down in a quiet place and hide away from the events of the past days.

You glanced back at the speeder, the Mandalorian was still in the same spot where he intercepted you, watching you both walk away. You turned back to Mira.

“Who was that man?” You asked much more enthusiastically than you would have liked. You couldn't lie and say he didn't intrigue you. His aura was overpowering but also enticed you in a way you couldn't explain.

“That was our clan leader, Din Djarin.”

700 notes · View notes

auty-ren · 4 years

Text

The Offer: Chapter 2

Touches

Pairing: ClanLeader!Mando x fem. Reader

Rating: T (Mature for future chapters)

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: Injury, Touching, Insinuations of sex, Cursing (just a tiny bit), Fluff, Yearning (a lot).

A/N: I’m having so much fun writing this. Please let me know what you think! Comments and feedback appreciated always. It’s also on AO3. Hope y’all enjoy💕

Chapter 1 | Chapter 3

Mandalorian lore via mandoa.org (I dont own it)

ClanLeader!Au created by @magichandthing

Gif by @coredrive

Summary: You finally get to speak to Clan Leader Djarin again.

Your nose was definitely broken.

The elder assessed that much on her initial exam of your face.

The bile in your stomach churned and nausea flooded your senses at the thought of having to reset the broken cartilage. You knew they would have to realign your nose otherwise it would never grow back properly. However, your stubbornness took hold and you wouldn’t let the elder anywhere near your face. You knew the pain that was eventually going to happen, but you dreaded the process. You wanted to postpone it for as long as you could. You tried to rationalize other options, internally debating and trying to come up with excuses for Mira and the Elder. Maybe if it was left alone, your nose would heal just fine; it seemed like a probable outcome you just hoped Mira would see it that way and leave you be.

Mira, of course, had different plans.

It took Mira straddling you, completely immobile due to her weight pressing into your chest, and the strength she held your arms with for the Elder woman to be able to fix your nose from its dislocated position. When she finally did, you're sure your scream reverberated off the walls.

“We underestimated your strength ad’ika.” The woman joked after giving a final dose of a bacta shot. Your eyes were still watering and you just huffed in response, causing Mira to chuckle from across the room.

Mira’s company started to grow on you, even though at first your time together was filled with silence. She often busied herself around the hut; shining her armor, cleaning her assortment of weapons, tinkering with different pieces of mechanics that littered the shelves. You would offer to help and she accepted, reluctantly at first, but you were starting to think she enjoyed your company as much as you did hers.

Most of the conversation was you asking questions about Mira and her people. You had some knowledge of the ways of a Mandalorian but Mira always explained it better. She always answered you with a sense of patience, explaining everything to you in detail you could understand. You appreciated it, the last thing you would want to do is offend her people with ignorance. She seemed to enjoy your enthusiasm for learning about Mandalorian culture.

“Ba'jur bal beskar'gam, Ara'nov, aliit, Mando' a bal Mand'alor, An vencuyan mhi.”

“What?”

“It is a rhyme taught to children, so they can better understand our way of life.” She put down the tool she was cleaning her armor with, handing you the piece to polish. Before you could even ask, she recited the same phrase to you in basic.

“Education and armor, Self-defense, our tribe, Our language, and our leader, All help us survive.”

Days bled into weeks and you started to lose count of how long you had been with Mira. Your injuries had healed fully thanks to Mira and the elder that visited you. Light remains of your still healing bruises were all the evidence of the encounter. As you felt better, Mira invited you to accompany her into the village. It had almost become pleasant, the little routine you two had. The fresh air always felt nice, and Mira filled the time telling you more stories of her clan.

“That man,” you paused, debating whether or not you should even bring up the topic. “The one who I met when we first arrived, who was he?”

Ever since then you found yourself wondering about him more than you liked to admit. He and Mira had been the first people to treat you with kindness in a long time, so you figured the reaction to him was just grateful. Your curious nature made it almost impossible to not want to know more. You had learned much about Mira the last few weeks, and the persistent thoughts of him would certainly cease at knowing more of him. At least that's what you told yourself, but it was hard to forget that blooming you felt in your chest when he first spoke to you. How the deep timbre of his voice felt like honey that settled in your bones. You caught yourself daydreaming how his voice would sound without the mask of his voice coder, just as rich and deep but something new and soft against your ears. It probably felt heavenly to hear him whisper things to you, his breath gentle in your ear.

Mira turned to you and watched as you waited for an answer. It was as if Mira could read your thoughts from the way her head tilted to look at you. You were thankful she didn't pry, that was a conversation you didn't want to have.

“He is the strongest and conscientious of us all, which is why the High Elders chose him to lead and defend our clan. Each of the pendants he wears is a testament to his fortitude.”

You listened intently, hanging on to every word Mira spoke.

“They say he received his signent by hunting a Mudhorn that terrorized the village and killing the beast with a viro-blade as his only weapon.”

“Oh,” was all you could say, your voice just a whisper in the silence left behind her words. As much as you will yourself to be satisfied with this information, it only seemed to stoke the fire that had been set ablaze by him. You wanted to know so much more, the desire to be around him was something you tried hard to ignore.

—

Much to Mira’s protest you mostly stayed to yourself, already feeling so out of place. Aside from her, the elder, and the brief encounter with the clan leader Djarin you hadn’t spoken to anyone else since being here. She tried all she could to get you to attend their weekly dinner, a celebration every clan member attended, she insisted. You eventually caved to her persistence. So you sat with her at one of the long wooden tables, chipping away at the plate full of food in front of you. Every so often you stopped to pull at a loose thread in your sleeve, somehow hoping the action would ease the anxiousness you felt.

The clan had given you new clothes shortly after settling with Mira. She presented the garments to you one night, explaining that the leaders agreed you would feel more comfortable in them. A simple, deep red, long sleeve tunic, and a long brown skirt that flowed around the movement of your legs. It was similar to the attire you’d seen some of the women in the village wearing. It felt unusual at first, you were so used to wearing the same few articles, almost threadbare in places from the years of consistent wear. These clothes seemed almost new, soft to the touch, and fit your body perfectly. The gesture nearly brought tears to your eyes, no one had given you such a thoughtful gift since you were a child.

It was so refreshing to see that not all the hope had been purged from the galaxy. Mira's people were just as legend had described them, fierce warriors with integrity and strength that rivaled entire battalions of soldiers; but there was also love and kinship that was deeply rooted in pillars of their society. It seemed almost surreal, this warrior race had taken you in; had healed and cared for you. It was something you had to witness first-hand, no amount of stories could convey the community the Mandalorians had, at least no one would believe you if you had tried.

You opted to observe the events of dinner, not wanting to cause any more trouble than you felt you had already. Mira had not lied when she said everyone would be there. The tables were filled with people laughing and enjoying the company of each other. It felt so peaceful, and the unsettling feeling in your stomach subsided as the dinner went on. The evening eventually started winding down when dusk had settled over the village. You thought it would be rude to leave without Mira, so you waited patiently on the sidelines wanting to return to the hut.

“How are you feeling?”

Din leaned his shoulder against the wall behind you, his arms crossed and his head tilted to the side. You jumped, you hadn't even heard him coming towards you. He seemed amused at your reaction, letting out a huff that slightly jolted his shoulders.

“I’m fine,” You felt that same pull start in your chest. “Mira has taken very good care of me.”

“Good.”

He became silent, watching the clan mingle like you were. This was exactly what you had been hoping for, to be alone, to be able to talk with him, and ask all the things you had been pondering since your initial meeting. But now you felt so small, every word you had readied was lost on your tongue, swallowed by the intimidation you felt. He was the noblest warrior of his clan, strong and authoritative in his ways but he made your heart flutter in a way you didn't know could. It was suffocating, being around him but you craved it nonetheless.

He moved to sit next to you, straddling the bench you sat on. You could feel him looking at you, but you didn't dare tear your gaze from in front of you. You felt your face flush all the way to the tips of your ears. He hadn’t said five words to you and you were already a mess.

“I should find Mira,” you broke the tension, hoping to escape so you could finally breathe again. “It's late.”

Before you could distance yourself he spoke, halting you in your tracks.

“I can return you to your hut,” he paused pushing himself to stand. He considered you for a moment as if to debate his next words.

“If that's what you wish.”

—

“I haven’t seen you since your arrival.” It wasn't really a question, more of an observation. You turned to look at his helmet, still trained on the path in front of you.

“Mira forced me to break my isolation.”

A huffed laugh came through his helmet, effectively melting some of the tension that had built up. Your own smile stretched across your lips, he still made you incredibly nervous but he at least had a sense of humor.

You didn't exchange any more words, silence falling back over you both. It felt just a little different than before, the tension wasn't drawn so tight. A light airy feeling replaced the energy that flows between the two of you. You could feel your muscles relaxing just the slightest bit, the bubbling worry in your stomach replaced with a dull ache.

Your senses focused back on your surroundings, cool darkness had enveloped your path, lit only by the torches mounted against the huts. People still congregated in the street, groups exchanging wishes of sweet dreams as most of them prepared for sleep. As you passed, side by side with their leader, each person stopped to give a small bow. Some of their gazes lingered on you, not in a judgemental way, most of them just seemed curious in nature. It was probably odd, seeing some strange woman being escorted by the most respected man in their village. If he noticed their looks, he didn't make it known.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw a small flash of bright color, sticking out noticeably against the neutral tones of the earth. You stopped and tucked in between two of the homes lining your path home, was a small flower bed. Some of the buds had yet to bloom, the new petals poking through the green shell that encased them. Others were full and brilliant, ranging from every color under the sun. You kneeled down to gently caress the buds in the palm of your hand.

Din didn’t realize you had stopped at first. He noticed the absence of your footsteps and turned around, watching you admire the flowers. He walked closer to you, essentially blanketing you in his shadow. Like before, you failed to notice his presence behind you.

“Sorry,” you apologized once you realized he was waiting for you. Standing up and brushing the dirt from your knees. You awkwardly clasped your hands together in front of you, waiting for him to respond. He stood still, completely static and it felt like a standoff of who would move next. You thought of saying something, anything to get him to act again but before you could he cut you off.

“You like…” He seemed to carefully consider his next words, in some ways it almost seemed meek the way the syllables rolled off his tongue. “Flowers?”

You turned your head to glance at the bed behind you. Realizing now how odd you must've looked, stopping to smell flowers like some child. You looked forward and he had yet to move still staring directly at you, at least that's what you assumed it was hard to tell with his visor.

“Yes, um…” Your mouth felt dry and tightened around your words. You know he didn't ask for an explanation but you gave one nonetheless, trying to ease your embarrassment.

“My mother used to have flowers on my home planet,” You turned your face down to your hands, rubbing your thumb at the juncture of two of your fingers. “I haven't seen any since the day I left...”

It had been a long time since you had thought of your old life. Ever since the war it had become painful to even entertain the good memories. Your parents had become ghosts of what they once were. Their faces were just flashes in your mind, reduced to the few reminders that stuck with you. The smells of cedar and earth reminded you of your father, his clothes always permeated with the smell of the outdoors. Sometimes you could recall how kind his eyes were, seeing a glimpse of them in your dreams. You remembered your mother’s flowers, how they grew during the warm season filling beds of green with vivid, swirling color.

“I didn’t realize they still grew.” You tried your best to keep the emotions these memories held from finding your face, but Din sensed them nonetheless. He hesitated for a moment before gesturing for you to follow him again.

—

“Thank you, for walking with me,” you said turning to him with a small smile on your face as the hut came into your view.

“Of course.” He stopped just a few feet away from you, turning to mimic your position.

“Goodnight,” you said, turning and walking up the few steps of the porch to Mira’s home.

“You never told me your name,” he said, causing you to stop just in front of the door, you turned back to face him.

You told him, giving a slight smile at the end of your words. He parroted your name, climbing up the stairs becoming level with you again. He moved closer to your body, leaving just a few inches between your chests. You looked up into his visor, your reflection more noticeable with the close proximity of your bodies.

He repeated your name, his hands going for one of the necklaces resting against his chest. He lifted it away from him, bringing the necklace around your neck, the cool metal of the pendant resting just above your breasts. You looked between him and the mythosaur skull, the same one you saw plastered on nearly everything in the village. You wanted to say something, your mouth opening, and closing while trying to focus long enough to string a few words together.

“You’re so beautiful.” He leaned his arm against the door behind you, pinning you between him and the wood of Mira’s hut. His other hand came up to trace along the length of your neck, his knuckles stopping when they reached your chin.

You felt like you were on fire, your blood running white-hot under your skin, leaving a blushed tint in its wake. You didn’t dare look up at him, afraid you’d melt under his gaze that seemed to bore straight through you. You kept your eyes fixated on the expansion of chest level with your eyes.

“Have you thought about staying?” His fingers gripped your chin, bringing you to look directly at his visor.

“Stay?” You were a little taken back, your voice coming out as a squeak compared to his. “Here?”

“Yes, here.” He chuckled, his voice dropped mocking the whisper in your tone. A smile threatens the corners of your lips and you bite on the inside of your cheek to stop the spread. He thought it was entertaining, watching you become giddy under his attention. You turned to look just past his shoulder, willing the flush you felt on your face and neck to subside. You had wanted his attention and now you had it but you were failing miserably at being anything but at his mercy.

“Do you like it here?” He said sensing your hesitation, forcing you to focus on him again.

“Yes, of course.” It was true, you enjoyed your time. But to stay? What place did you have here? They had made you feel so welcome but you were an outsider and you had yet to offer any contribution to their way of life. You had felt better than you had in years. Like a familiar version of yourself had taken over again, replenishing the life you so desperately tried to find before. It felt invigorating but you knew it couldn't last forever, and with your injuries in the final stages of healing, you knew that time was coming to an end.

“Then stay.” His voice was firm but held a sort of gentleness that made your heart flip in your ribcage.

He grabbed your hand, leading your palm to rest in the middle of his chest. Your fingers instinctively spread over the warmth of his skin, he interlocked his fingers with yours, effectively trapping your hand behind his.

You couldn’t see his face, but it felt as if you were staring right into his soul. You imagined the depth and piercing look of his eyes. You imagined they were just like the rest of him, fierce and intriguing but with a softness hid behind them. Mesmerizing you and making you want nothing more than to fall deep in their hypnosis. You wanted to kiss him, to feel him against you, flesh and bone to be explored by your fingertips. You wanted to be encased totally by him, to drown in the warmth he exuded, to feel nothing but him for the rest of your days.

With a newfound boldness, you slipped your hand away from his slowly trailing down the center of his chest. The pads of your fingers moved over the toned muscle of his chest, doing exactly what you had daydreamed about since you met him. His skin was a beautiful tanned color with scars scattered, telling the story of his battles. You traced a few, fingers delicately moving across the raised skin. You felt his breath released from behind his helmet, so quiet you may have not noticed if it weren't for the rise and fall of his chest. You continued your movements, traveling down until you met the trail of hair that peeked out from his trousers. He abruptly grabbed your wrist, a groan filtering through to your ears. His grip was firm, stopping your actions but being careful not to hurt you.

“You should get some rest.” His voice was so low, gravelly, barely registering with the voice coder of his helmet. He released his grip, moving your hand back to your side.

You were afraid you had fucked up, misreading him and crossing some forbidden line. Shame flooded your mind, causing your gaze to drift to your feet. He reached up to your face, pushing the hair that fell in your face back, revealing the timid look that fell on your features. He held his palm against your face for just a moment longer than necessary. As his hand fell from your face, you were back to staring into the darkness of his visor, surprised by the tenderness of his actions.

“Goodnight,” He whispered, turning back to walk down the steps, leaving you stunned and missing his warmth.

“Goodnight.”

—————

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