Token (Din Djarin x Reader)
─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─
A/N: After the finale, I just wanted to write something fluffy about this cinnamon roll. Took me a little longer than I expected after getting the flu, throwing my shoulder out, and then getting braces, but here it is in all its feelsy glory.
Description: The Mandalorian/Din Djarin x Fem!Reader, the fluff and angst are strong with this one | Warnings: none | Setting: pre-season one | Word count: 1,483 | Gif credit: user trelawnys
Imagine being an old flame of The Mandalorian and being unexpectedly reunited with him after he saves your life, only to face that you are now on different paths
The Razor Crest had hardly changed a bit since the last time you’d seen it. Dark, dingy, and nondescript. Nothing about it said comfort or warmth, but it served as a home all the same. At one point, it had been your home too.
Sitting on an unmarked crate, you exhale, thinking about how much you had changed. You glance down at your hands, calloused and worn, years of digging for scraps and salvage taking its toll on your once nimble fingers. You’d collected many a bounty with a sniper blaster in your grip. Back when your reputation earned you currency, food, and shelter. Before an old ally sold you out to a competitor, framed you for a failed job worth millions, and took away everything you’d bled and fought for. Now the bounties were on your head. You were the one being hunted, and life was purely a game of staying alive for one more day.
Your partner from so long ago was certainly the last person you’d expected to see in this corner of the galaxy, let alone he be the one to shoot down the bounty hunter who’d cornered you that morning. Out of all the planets in all the systems, The Mandalorian had found you once again.
The sound of your rescuer descending from the cockpit pulls you from your bittersweet ruminations.
“We’re here,” he announces, stepping off the narrow ladder as the ship lands with a jolt.
“Where’s here?” you ask, communication being sparse thus far.
“Lexrul. I have an ally here. They will give you refuge until you can get on your feet.” he answers.
“Wow...thank you. That means, a lot,” you say, moved by his kindness even after all this time, ”And thank you for saving me back there. I really owe you one.”
“Don’t worry about it,” he dismisses, walking closer, “What were you doing on Christophsis anyway? Why was that hunter after you?”
“I was involved a botched job with the wrong people. Got cornered, wound up stranded five months ago with a fried hyperdrive. Couldn’t get the parts to fix it,” you say, wanting to avoid the finer details of the incident.
“Why didn’t you buy passage off the planet?” he questions, sensing something wasn’t adding up.
You sigh, knowing there was no use in hiding the truth from him.
"I don’t have any money left. What you’re looking at? That’s all that’s left of me,” you answer, gazing up at him.
He takes a seat on the crate across from you. “What happened?”
“Benec Nold sold me out to The Hutts. We where working a job together, trying to take down a Duros that stole 9 million credit’s worth of spice from The Hutt Clan. We found him, but Nold set me up. Staged the whole thing. Killed the thief, made it look like I lost the goods, took it all for himself, and disappeared. Even after Jabba bit the dust, his bounty hunters are still breathing down my neck, trying to collect the Gundark-sized price on my head for the rest of the clan. For six years, I’ve been scraping garbage off the streets to not starve to death, while that sleemo is probably sunning himself on a Scarif beach,” you seethe, clinching your fists at the thought. “That Trandoshan you shot in the alley was just the next in a long line of creeps trying to cash in.”
He was silent for a moment, processing the information. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s alright. I’m used to it,” you shrug, forcing a smirk, though you knew it was hollow, “What about you? How’s the hunt?”
“Fine,” he says, getting to his feet.
You watch as he walks over to a panel on the wall, swiftly pressing a combination of buttons.
“Just fine?”
The doors of the ship’s arsenal open with a swish, revealing dozens of weapons.
“Yeah,” he says, his tone lower.
His guard was up. That was something you were familiar with, but he seemed agitated. Unsettled. Sad.
“Why can’t we talk like we used to?” you ask, standing up.
“A lot has changed since then, Y/N,” he replies, back still turned to you as he surveys a selection of blasters.
“You haven’t,” you say, stepping up behind him, “You’re the same Mando I knew all those years ago.”
“I wish that were true,” he sighs, sorrow in his voice.
You reach out and put a hand on his shoulder, and he finally turns to face you.
“Y/N, you need to stay somewhere safe. Make a better life for yourself,” he implores.
“It’s not that easy. You know that. Imps are still everywhere. I was thrown out of the Guild. Everywhere I turn there’s someone more than happy to put a blaster to my brain. I can’t just disappear. No one can,” you respond. “I’ve been running my entire life. It’s all I know.”
“You’re stronger than that. I know you. You’ll find a way. You always have,” he insists. “I wish...that things had been different.”
“Din,” you say, “Come with me. Please. We can run together. You and me against the galaxy. Just like it was before.”
“We can’t go back, Y/N,” he says, “This chance...it’s all I can give you.”
“Please,” you beg, desperately trying to stave off the loneliness sinking in your chest.
“I’m bound to the Mandalorian life. I made my vow,” he denies, taking your hands in his. “This is the way.”
You nod, fighting the tears welling in your eyes.
“In that case, please, let me say goodbye,” you say, timidly reaching for his helmet.
He gently grabs your wrists, “No living thing can see my face. It’s forbidden.”
“I don’t need to see,” you state, pausing as he interprets your words. After a moment, you gazing up the darkened visor where you knew he stared back at you, he released his grip.
Receiving his permission, you close your eyes, slowly lifting his helmet. It’s heavier than you expected, but you sense the weight lift as he helps, removing it the rest of the way.
The temptation to open your eyes is so strong, but you resist, knowing how much his Creed meant to him. In the place of sight, you use your hands to see the face of the man you knew so well.
Your pulse quickens as your hand graces his chin. The rough stubble tickles your fingertips. His hand finds yours; he holds it tight as you cup his cheek. You lean closer, feeling the warmth of his breath on your face. Your heart pounding, he closes the gap between you, softly pressing his lips to yours. The kiss is as tender and gentle as you’d hoped, and the light tickle of a mustache is a welcome surprise; another treasured detail to complete your picture of him. Far sooner than you’d like, he draws away, touching his forehead to yours.
“If I could alter my path, know that I would align it to yours. If not in this life, then in the next,” he utters, lingering.
His words run through you like a blade. Your heart aches more than ever.
“Din.”
“I hope you find everything you’re looking for.” he says with finality, pulling away.
Tears run down your cheeks as you open your eyes. He’s turned away from you, helmet on, blaster in hand.
The ship’s boarding ramps lowers, cool wind rushing inside and hitting your face. You wipe your eyes with your sleeve, knowing the moment has passed.
“My contact will be waiting for you. Follow these coordinates,” he explains, standing by the ramp, holding out a map projector. “Imperial control fell here long ago. The remnant is small. You’ll be safe.”
“Good to know,” you reply, taking the chip.
“Take this too,” he extends the weather-worn rifle.
Your eyes narrow as you realize exactly what rifle it was. “You kept this all these years?”
“You told me to take care of it for you,” he reminds, chuckling a bit, “Let’s hope it still fits.”
A smile spreading across your face, you take your faithful weapon back, immediately feeling whole with it in your grip. “Oh yeah. Like a glove.”
Silence falls between you, the only sound being his cloak snapping in the wind.
“Thank you. For everything,” you finally speak.
“Take care of yourself,” he replies, extending his hand.
You grasp it firmly, meeting his gaze through that visor once again, “You too.”
Before it becomes impossible, you force yourself to let go.
As you tread down the ramp into the glow of twilight, you leave your old life behind. Yet as you walk toward your future, you pray that someday, somehow, The Mandalorian will be there to find you once more.