Din Djarin x Reader One-Shots

Runaway | Part 2

Part two kinda requested by @dxn_djarxn  ily<3

Warnings: PTSD, Panic Attack, Violence, Blood, Swearing, Death, unedited (I might rewrite the end of it later idk)

Mandalorian x Fem! Reader

Word Count:  1944 (I don't usually add songs, but this came on while writing this, and i loved it)

₪ ₪ ₪

Over the past few weeks of you traveling with the Mandalorian, you'd grown much closer.

You would share late nights with him in the cockpit instead of surrendering to your lucid nightmares.

You would watch the kid together instead of drowning in memories.

And you would talk to him to silence your own thoughts as he told short stories of his job and little interests.

You had been running from planet to planet with him and the kid for about two months, and you did your best to forget about your previous life. Though your sarcastic comments and witty remarks were never missed on the Razor Crest, you tried to keep yourself busy, whether that was cleaning, looking over the child, or reading the same book a hundred times over.

Today you had to stop for supplies on a planet you hadn't bothered to learn the name of and insisted you come along with Mando, unable to bear another hour in the grey and soundless ship. He quickly caved and agreed, not seeing an arguable reason for you to stay.

After making the kid comfortable in his capsule, you set off into the village, having to sprint at times to keep up with Mandos strides, traveling in a content silence.

He had bought you new and appropriate clothes for your constant journeys. A simple long-sleeved tunic/dress (dress stops at your shins) and leggings that went to your ankles. You'd gotten a pair of well-crafted leather boots, a full grain leather belt, and a f/c scarf for the colder and windier planets. You often wore it over your head to keep your almost hairless head warm, though it had grown out quite a bit. The planet was rather chilly, so you pulled the scarf closer to you.

The village homes were simple stone shacks with wooden shingles, smoke billowing out of rickety chimneys and weak light glowing through frosted windows. The stalls and stands were mismatched and decorated with whatever they were selling. Spices and herbs were lined up neatly in glass jars. Clothes and fabrics were strewn across lines and hangars. Weapons and tools were hung and hammered on display by the blacksmith. 

It was charming, and rustic. Beautiful, in your opinion.

You and the Mandalorian had gotten almost everything you needed, and it was oddly enjoyable, bartering and haggling for the right price with the merchants. Mando taught you some ways to get what you wanted for less than they were charging.

You had just left the produce stand and started weaving through the scarce crowd when you heard the crack of a whip. Stopping in your tracks, you turned on your heel and faced the sound.