SUMMARY: A visit to the mechanic and a new beginning.
WORDS: 1200
WARNING: Nope, only that the reader is a Mandalorian here and not Din, so when I say "Mando" it´s about her.
In the bustling spaceport of Mos Eisley, Din Djarin worked diligently in his small mechanic's shop, surrounded by the hum of engines and the clatter of tools. He was aware of the fame he had built up over the past few years, known for his ability to repair all manner of spacecraft, Din considered himself a quiet and solitary figure, but affable and cheerful, content with the mild isolation of his work.
One day, a mysterious figure dressed in Mandalorian armor entered his shop, seeking repairs for her ship. He couldn't help but shudder a little, his scant knowledge of them based on perceptions from childhood when he was rescued from the ashes of what used to be his forgotten home before being sent to this piece of land to live with a relative he barely knew.
The first day she just hung around the workshop and briefly introduced herself as Mando, but an old friend from an adjacent cantina managed to find out that the enigmatic woman turned out to be a renowned and legendary bounty hunter with a reputation that preceded her. Intrigued by the enigmatic Mandalorian before him, the next day Din offered to work on the ship, eager to test his mechanical prowess.
"It could use a tune-up and my usual mechanics are taking a break, how many credits would that be?"
Djarin offered a sardonic smile.
"Well, that's something you can't know until you check it out in depth, sweetheart, but I promise I'll give you a good price" (That was accompanied by a slight wink in a crude attempt to get attention).
The Mandalorian just nodded softly and left without another word, leaving the man blushing intensely. That wasn't even close to what he regretted the most. As Din delved into the intricate repairs of the ancient ship, which could well be described as a relic, he reflected on the other, much more interesting things he could be doing, but he was still a man of his word and he wasn't going to give up. Despite the two brief interactions, he couldn't help but feel drawn to the stoic yet captivating presence of the Mandalorian warrior. Their conversations were meaningful, with an unspoken understanding floating in the air between them, especially when the woman simply rolled up her sleeves and began to help him.
"Where did you learn?" (The question surprised the dark-haired man, but he wasn't going to waste the opportunity).
"Well, when I was young I spent a lot of time alone because my uncle wasn't a man of many words and even less with alcohol, so one day I went to the city and signed up as an apprentice, that's how I earned a living and killed time".
The woman turned her visor to the ground thoughtfully.
"Is that where you got the necklace from?"
He was about to ask when she looked where the jacket was leaning, it was a kind of tool box where he kept an amulet from the worst day of his life. A mythosaur.
"No... I don't like to talk about it but your people helped me in a time of need and I preferred to keep it".
"I could say the same".
The man reached for a dirty rag to remove the oil dirt from his hands. A sigh of understanding left his lips.
"Is it true what they say, you always wear that helmet?" (He pointed to his own face inquisitively).
"This is the way".
The days passed in apparent tranquility, the young woman had become a little more vocal and was proud of having gotten a kind of laugh out of her once. However, before Din could finish his work, chaos erupted in the spaceport as a group of bounty hunters descended upon the girl, seeking to claim the bounty on her head. Instinctively, Din sprang into action, using the few skills his uncle, a man better with his fists than with words, had instilled in him, upbringing to support Mando and fend off attackers.
He and his peculiar client barricaded themselves behind a set of scrap metal. The woman had a sharp aim that made him think with pity of their targets if they weren't in this situation.
In the heat of battle, Din entered the ship for added safety while his partner dealt with several stray undesirables mercilessly. He inadvertently discovered a secret Mando had been hiding: a small, green creature emerged from a cubbyhole of sorts, looking frightened and immediately turning its face away when the mechanic approached.
"Hey... little one, it's okay" (the man extended a finger for the boy to hold, which helped, as he was able to pick up the baby and find a better place to hide).
So that was the reason the woman was so scrupulous about emptying the warehouse before starting work and always left for a while, maybe she knew someone nearby who helped her with the child.
Once she understood that the man was inside, the child's guardian (mother?) entered the ship abruptly and prepared to take off. Apparently the rescued pupil was named Grogu, he had a connection to the Force like nothing Din had ever seen before, although the Mandalorian never heard of it. This revelation struck a chord within Din, awakening emotions and memories long buried in him, when he lost his parents as a tender infant.
A few hours later Grogu entertained himself by floating Din's necklace through the air, the only thing he could rescue when the attackers were too many and left without further delay.
"He is amazing" (Djarin meant it, he understood that any self-respecting person would want to keep him safe).
"He is" (The woman used a surprisingly soft tone) "You can't go back to that place, now they will look for you too".
With no choice but to leave the safety of Mos Eisley behind, Din made the fateful decision to accompany Mando and Grogu on their journey, his heart torn between the prudence of duty and the new connection he felt towards them.
“I suppose there is no other remedy, at least for now. Would a mechanic suit you?”
The hunter said nothing but the playful clicking of fingers on the control panel expressed all he needed to know.
Weeks turned into months. As they traversed the galaxy together, facing danger and adventure at every turn, Din and Mando found themselves growing closer, their bond forged through trials and challenges that tested their resolve. In the quiet moments beneath the starry sky, Din found solace in the reserved woman’s unwavering strength and determination, while she discovered a depth of compassion and loyalty in Din’s open character that touched her heart. Casual touches turned to frantic kisses in the darkness of the ship’s belly.
Amidst the chaos of their unpredictable lives, love blossomed between the stoic Mandalorian bounty hunter and the intrepid mechanic, tying their destinies together in a story written in the stars. And as they sailed across the vast expanse of the galaxy side by side, Djarin and Mando knew that in each other they had found something worth fighting for: a love that transcended the boundaries of space and time, binding them together in a bond that was as unbreakable as beskar steel.
NOTE: This was really funny to write, maybe I'll write about this universe again, the fic is an idea of @toomanystoriessolittletime for the 8k celebration, hope you like it 🤗💕
Word Count: 402
Warnings: Uh, Maul very obviously checking out the Reader. Established relationship. Flirting, a kiss, a growl, and a little bit of neck nibbling via Maul.
Summary: The Mandalorian!Reader is putting on their armor, getting ready for a meeting, however, Maul does not exactly want them to leave.
~~~~ ~~~~ ~~~~ ~~~~
The time on the chrono was ticking by. Soon, you would be in a room surrounded by your fellow warriors. Your thoughts were engrossed by the topics that would be discussed, and those that you were not too keen on hearing again. The thoughts, however important as you mentally prepared yourself, kept you from the only other person in the room.
As your thoughts slipped out of you grasp, you could feel molten eyes blazing into you.
Adjusting the armor on your forearm, you peeked over at him.
Maul had been leaning beside the window in his chambers since you had began to dress. He hardly moved the entire time, with the exception of his chest from breathing and his eyes. Those eyes of his made his thoughts very clear. Deliberately slow, his eyes looked down and back up your body.
“Am I missing something?” You stifled a laugh as you picked at your glove.
“Yes and no,” Maul said, a smoothness too intriguing to ignore.
Looking away for a moment, you attached the last piece of armor on your other forearm. “Hmm. Looks to me like you’re undressing me with your eyes.”
The low growl from him caused you to look over at him again.
“With careful precision, my starlight. And nothing short of my strategic expertise.”
“I have no doubts,” you smiled. “However, I still have that meeting to attend.”
Maul’s face fell. The typical expression of distaste. His lips curled in an inaudible snarl as he tore his eyes away from you.
“I’ll be back,” you cooed, walking over to him, “you know that.” Bringing his face into your hands, you placed a kiss to his pouting lips. “Try not to tear down the palace while I’m gone?”
The colors flickered in his eyes. The arms that were once crossed now had hands latching onto your hips.
You sighed. This was not going to be easy; leaving or staying. The way his eyes drank you in and plead for you all at once.
The grip he had on your hips tightened immensely, pinching your skin beneath the fabric.
Pressing yourself forward, his enticing scent lured you closer. “Maul…”
The corners of Maul’s lips curved upward. Leaning his head forward, your hands dropped down to his neck. His lips danced along your jawline toward your ear. “Stay,” he breathed, adding a growl as he began to nibble at your neck.
~~~~ ~~~~ ~~~~ ~~~~
Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this and your day :)
And if you’re interested, check out my writing commissions post. My writings start at just $3.
The Zabrak will admit with reluctance that he had a fondness for the Mandalorian.
Amazement from the passerby when the Mandalorian was not somehow mangled by the crimson Zabrak.
Behind closed doors the Mandalorian looked over their data pad, busy trying to make sense of the notes that had come their way. A jumble of nonsense they best take care of…
Maul glances at them. They are just as terrible as him when it comes to stopping, they just continued on…
They pause, feeling Maul lean over where they sat.
“I think it best you take a moment for rest.” His smooth voice, even and just above a whisper.
The Mandalorian feels their face burn, the slightest brush of Maul’s lips against the nape of their neck.
“Just a few more minutes.” They manage.
Maul can sense their heart racing. Unlike his encounters, this was not a heart racing in panic. This was different. Novel to him. This was a thrill.
A kiss. Just one pressed to the back of their neck.
“It was not a suggestion.”
His Mandalorian trembles, “Yes, Lord Maul…”
Heart racing in their ribs and the urge to turn their head.
Maul pulls away, his Mandalorian making a gentle sound of protest.
A soft chuckle that leaves him, “How fascinating…”
His Mandalorian hides their face. How embarrassing…
Summary: “It’s not fine! They just attacked you!” he screeched. Luke went silent when Han and the Mando shared an amused look. Clearly, he was missing something here. “You’ve never met a Mandalorian, have you?” asked the Mando, snorting.
Requested by Anon: Can I get Han Solo x fellow scoundrel reader? Just the two of them getting into trouble and being snarky with each other
Key: (h/c) - hair colour, (Y/N) - your name, Atin’ika - a pet name with the root Atin meaning stubborn and the suffix ‘ika meaning little, Kaysh mirsh solus - he’s an idiot (literally: his brain cell is lonely), Mir’sheb - smartass
Warnings: i physically could not resist implying a future han/reader/luke situation sorry not sorry, cursing, mentions of imprisonment
Word Count: 1,058
Note: i love love love the original trilogy characters i am BEGGING yall to request more of them when requests are open. I hope you don’t mind that i made the reader a mandalorian-- i’ve become o b s e s s e d with the culture and i thought it would be fun to play with a mando reader.
"Han Solo, I'm gonna kick your ass--"
The second Luke heard the mutter come from the cell next to the one he and his companion were thrown into, he knew they were in for it. Han had enemies everywhere, he was slowly learning, but prisons happened to be one of the easiest places to find them.
"Kid," Han told him as the person in the other cell started shouting in another language, "it's fine. We're fine. Don't worry about it."
Luke worried about it.
Even when the cell door blew open ten minutes later, he worried about it. He only began to lose his mind when Han let out their cell neighbour, who was dressed head to toe in armour-- Mandalorian armour. Luke was going to kill Han.
Sure, their new friend seemed to be helping them escape, but the fact that they turned and hissed curses at Han that made Luke's falsely innocent ears turn red made him uneasy. Was this a Leia situation? Was the snark hiding the possibility of a decent friendship? Would the Mando turn on them the second they were safe?
Well. That answer came pretty quickly as soon as they ducked into the Falcon, Chewie at the wheel, and the Mando bashed their head against Han’s.
“Woah, woah, woah!” Luke cried breathlessly, rushing between them and tugging them apart.
Han shook off his dizziness and still tried to push Luke away. “Kid, it’s fine--”
“It’s not fine! They just attacked you!” he screeched.
Luke went silent when Han and the Mando shared an amused look. Clearly, he was missing something here.
“You’ve never met a Mandalorian, have you?” asked the Mando, snorting.
He crossed his arms. “I’ve met plenty of Mandalorians!”
“You can’t count Boba Fett, he was trying to kill you,” Han corrected immediately.
He seemed to abandon the conversation, crossing the room, but it soon became clear he was actually pulling drinks out of his hidden stash. (“Hidden stash.” The only one who didn’t know it was there was R2 and that was because he had a habit of throwing bottles at people’s faces.) Meanwhile, his Mandalorian friend stepped away from Luke to lean against the wall.
“Do you wanna explain to the kid what you just did?” Han asked them, pouring three glasses, which did not go unnoticed by Luke.
The Mando snorted. “He’s your tag-along.”
“Hey now!” he protested almost mockingly before lifting his left wrist and tapping it. The dull thud that echoed from the piece of armor he wore under his sleeve almost abruptly reminded Luke of its existence. “That means he’s our tag-along.”
Luke gawked, realisation painting his features. He’d never understood the vambrace on Han’s left arm, much less why the man kept it covered at all times, but now it made complete sense. The piece was the same colour as the mysterious Mandalorian’s armour, now that he thought about it. The Mando had given it to him.
“I’m no expert in Mando, but--”
“Clearly,” Han snorted mid-sip of his own drink, but Luke ignored him.
“--isn’t that...kind of a big deal?”
The Mando gave a heaving laugh just as Han approached and handed them a full glass. An untouched one was shoved into Luke’s hands, but he barely noticed it.
“We’re married,” the Mando said almost nonchalantly.
Han lifted a protesting finger. “We are not married.”
“We’re not married,” they corrected. A pause. “Yet.”
Luke took a massive gulp of his drink, wincing at the burn and the snickers he got from both of them.
Just then, the Mando slipped their helmet off, revealing a head of mess (h/c) hair and sharp eyes that twinkled with mischief. They immediately moved to kiss Han’s cheek, earning a roll of his eyes and a minute shove.
“Atin’ika,” they muttered. “Who’s your new friend?”
“Luke Skywalker, (Y/N) (L/N),” Han introduced. “Sorry about Luke-- Kay-esh mirsh solus.”
(Y/N) glared at him. “It’s Kaysh.” He waved them off and they looked back at the poor former farmboy, who had the expression of a bantha in headlights. “Nice to meet you.”
“You too, I think,” he said hesitantly. He gestured between the two of them. “So, you two--?”
“Unfortunately,” (Y/N) drawled. Then, they grinned. “But it’s a pretty open thing, if you’re interested.”
Luke choked on his drink.
“Leave him alone, you menace,” Han scoffed, shoving his partner. “Go get that armor off, it’s a pain in the ass.”
(Y/N) rolled their eyes, but started walking off anyway. “I’m going, I’m going-- but don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it!”
Luke was just recovering from his coughing fit when Han sighed. “That’s what I get for bringing a twink on board. Ignore them.”
“How?” The ‘twink’ muttered.
A moment later, watching Han down his entire glass, Luke frowned.
“You knew you said the word wrong earlier, didn’t you?”
His friend grinned devilishly. “It annoys them-- can’t help it. They’re hilarious when they’re mad, you’ll see.”
“So you know Mando’a?” he asked, tilting his head.
“Eh.” He made a so-so motion. “Pick up a word here and there.”
Luke frowned when the Force rang false. “Hang on! You have a Mando’a dictionary in the ship's files-- I’ve seen it! You’re a filthy liar!”
Han hushed him immediately, glancing toward where (Y/N) disappeared. “That doesn’t exist, hear me?”
“Why wouldn’t you--?” he stopped. “Wait, that last page you viewed--”
Luke had seen the records. He went snooping around in Han’s stuff more than he’d like to admit, but he was sure the man knew about it. The last open section in the Mando’a dictionary had been under Resh: Riduurok. It was a love bond, a marriage agreement.
“Shhhhhhhhh,” Han hissed pointedly. “I’ll kill you.”
He couldn’t help but grin. “That’s so sweet. Han, why didn’t you tell anybody about them, huh?”
“I have a reputation and (Y/N) has a reputation,” he huffed. “Now shut up and finish that.”
Down the hall, (Y/N) grinned. Little did Han know, his beskar’gam was almost finished. Most of the pieces were done, except for the helmet, which had an unfinished design. It seemed ridiculous, forging him a set when he’d probably hardly ever wear it, but it meant a lot to (Y/N) that he would simply have it.
My babe, light of my life, I’m here to ask about WIPs! Uhhh how about fight fight fight, grocery thing, and/or djarins arrive?? Also I’m a hoe for boba so the number of potential works brings me joy
aw YEAH babe thank u for fuelling my narcissism and hyperfixation here we GO
check under the cut if you’re interested in some shitty unfinished sNeAk PeAkS
aight so fight fight fight is part of the modern!au and it’s basically what it says on the tin - boba gets into a fight and there’s some tending to wounds at the end. there’s a lot of tension and pining and maybe angst because they argue a LOT these idiots
“What are you doing?” you hiss, not really caring for an answer but demanding one anyway. But Boba’s not even looking at you, glowering at the other man menacingly even with the helmet between. You bring your other palm to his chest and try to push him back, pull him to the side, anything to get him to leave this stupidity.
He doesn’t so much as sway on his feet, remaining firm and tall and angry as he shrugs your hold off. His hand — non-dominant, you realise later, the one you’re not standing next to — lashes out to strike the man viciously on the side of his head.
You see a flash of the other man flinching to the side, knocking […] to the floor tiles, his hand swinging up blindly before—
Thud.
A burst of pain shatters through your right temple.
grocery thing, also part of the modern!au, was meant to be an interlude of sorts. reader and boba aren’t exactly on speaking terms at this point even though they both want to be. yeah i will write the reader to be a stubborn fool it’s called projection babes 💋✨
You whirl round, just for the words to shrivel up and die in your mouth. There’s a pathetic choke that, you realise later, bubbles up from your throat.
Because looming over you is a sight you haven’t seen in weeks. You see your face distorted in a smooth glass T-visor, set in a weathered, god-awful green helmet.
“Boba.”
You say his name so dumbly that you cringe immediately after. How many times have you rehearsed what you’d say to him? Fancy seeing you here. Look what the cat dragged in. You moron.
I missed you.
He takes a step back, and it is only then that you realise how close he was before. Completely in your space as you leaned against the racks. A while ago, that would’ve bothered you. Hell — a while ago, you would have noticed. Why didn’t you now?
You give him a once-over, as if you’re checking for the same scrapes and bruises and split lip all over again. As if weeks haven’t gone by without so much as a breath in the other’s direction. He looks… the same. You can’t say good, because Boba’s never been one to care about appearances beyond ‘presentable’ and it shows in his day-to-day. The same olive-green bomber jacket. The same pair of braids, fastened to his shoulder. The same well-worn jeans. And of course, the same goddamn helmet — complete with its dent and intimidating glare.
He looks normal. Safe, healthy. Which is more than you can ask for, really. Since it’s none of your business.
While you fumble for words, scrambling for something, anything to say to him, Boba hold out a fist. Measured and firm, like all his movements are.
From his hand dangles the bag of limes.
and djarin’s arrive is from a paz x mando!reader thing i’ve been thinking about! au where the covert is FINE thank u very much. also big bratty sibling energy between the reader and din dfdkfdfhdf catch me writing better platonic relationships than romantic huh
You crack a smile at the barb. Din, resolutely not facing the taller man, grunts. You suspect he’ll be doing a lot of that while he’s here. From behind, Paz uses both gloved hands to press down on both your helmets with just enough force to be annoying. Such a child when he wants to be. Both of them, really.
A half-smile on your face, you swat at the pesky Infantry soldier’s arm, and the pressure from above vanishes before you feel a distinct plink on the back of your helm.
Flicking? Really?
Before you can turn around to give Paz a piece of your mind, you hear his voice. Right in your ear, had it been uncovered.
“Make sure he doesn’t blow anything up, baar’ur’ika,” he mutters, barely loud enough for your sensors to pick up yet resonating through your beskar, through your mind. You can hear the smirk in his voice. Maker, he didn’t even touch you — yet the remnants of that closeness lie heavy in your chest. By the time you recover from the low, rolling growl in your ear, Paz is gone.
Leaving you with Din. Who is suspiciously quiet.
“W-what?”
“Hm?” Din’s helmet turns back to you, and it’s only then that you realise he wasn’t staring at all. Either you’re self-absorbed, or Din is oblivious.
Mandalorians were typical in the areas of battle and war.
Raised to fight from a young age. Of course there were a variety of other roles…
Maul’s Mandalorian more or less was a book with legs. Rattling on about the many instances of Mandalorian history, language or the newest inquiry they had to discuss with Maul about the syndicates.
On the other hand…
Savage would say he did not have a Mandalorian…though someone might mention the shadow often near him.
This Mandalorian was not like the others, they heard the sighs from the others.
They did not quite fit the airs of the others. Instead of a blaster, a small vial and ever the scent of chamomile and Lilly of the valley.
A slip away from the room and a strangle sound. Savage looked about, ah there they were again. Vial in hand and whisking away the tea set.
“He shouldn’t have insulted you.” The Mandalorian muttered.
Apothecarian Mandalorians were a resourceful type. Able to heal just as well as leave damage in their wake.
Savage gave the Mandalorian a smile, “ It seems so, seemed you took the matter into your own hands.”
A shy glance down, “ I have never been too good with a blaster.”
“But a flick of the wrist and some Lilly of the valley.”
The Mandalorian walked past Savage. “ Has its advantages…” the sweet smell of it still on them.
The Zabrak will admit with reluctance that he had a fondness for the Mandalorian.
Amazement from the passerby when the Mandalorian was not somehow mangled by the crimson Zabrak.
Behind closed doors the Mandalorian looked over their data pad, busy trying to make sense of the notes that had come their way. A jumble of nonsense they best take care of…
Maul glances at them. They are just as terrible as him when it comes to stopping, they just continued on…
They pause, feeling Maul lean over where they sat.
“I think it best you take a moment for rest.” His smooth voice, even and just above a whisper.
The Mandalorian feels their face burn, the slightest brush of Maul’s lips against the nape of their neck.
“Just a few more minutes.” They manage.
Maul can sense their heart racing. Unlike his encounters, this was not a heart racing in panic. This was different. Novel to him. This was a thrill.
A kiss. Just one pressed to the back of their neck.
“It was not a suggestion.”
His Mandalorian trembles, “Yes, Lord Maul…”
Heart racing in their ribs and the urge to turn their head.
Maul pulls away, his Mandalorian making a gentle sound of protest.
A soft chuckle that leaves him, “How fascinating…”
His Mandalorian hides their face. How embarrassing…
