Din Djarin x Reader One-Shots

Ignotus Night | Part 1

Warnings: Violence, Stealing, Mentions of Death, PBY ( Pre-Baby Yoda )

Mandalorian x GN! Reader

Word Count: 1700 (Mando and reader are in their mid to late 20s. This was just meant to be one chapter, but I couldn't resist a cliffhanger. Based off of the song above, maybe play on repeat.)

Translations: Magister  = The Boss / Boss (Latin) | 

₪ ₪ ₪

You wound through the crowd, slipping your hand in pockets and coats, reaching in bags and holsters, collecting spare change, weapons and gadgets.

Your ratty f/c cloak swayed around your frame in the dry breeze as you danced through the streets, plucking meaningless things from the vendors in front of the aliens around you, only to snatch their treasures once they averted their gaze.

Passing by a crack between buildings, you slipped some fruits and bread to the children waiting within, passing a subtle smile before you turned away, moving on to the next vending stand in the market. There was every alien you could imagine walking the very streets as yourself, however not one spared you even a glance, instead speaking one of the millions of languages you had heard being passed on over the years.

But to those that would spare you the shadows of night, you would grab the beings by their hands, and swing your hips, moving to the distant music, as you slid your hands down their sides to grab anything you could, pulling back to move more freely to their pleasure and hide away the stolen goods. By the time they blinked, you were gone.

This was just another Ignotus night.

The dry, desert, middle-of-nowhere planet you had called home since before you could remember. A dangerous place if you didn't have friends, or just a way to defend yourself from the many creatures stronger than you.

But lucky for you, defences were everywhere for those who knew how to ask.

Disappearing among the shoppers once more, you gazed up on the rising dunes around you, getting whiffs of the overwhelming spices quickly traded and enchanted by the shine of jewels being haggled.

You passed by another man, discreetly wrapping your arms around his waist as his arms flew through the air, yelling something about a cheat in the system, and untied the scarf around his belt, only to wrap it around your own and stride away, no one caring to stop you.

A harsh glint blinded you as it reflected off of the glowing triple moons, halting you in your tracks. A crowd had formed around the center of the street, so you ran to the rows of buildings and shops, climbing up the scaffolding of a construction project and nearby windowsills until you were hanging from the edge of a balcony to get a better view, scarfs and torn fabric blowing in the desert wind.

What looked like a platoon of Old Guards made a V  formation around something, and between their tar black armor, there was yet another shimmer against the drought cracked road, only illuminated by the hundreds of strung lights and candle lit lamps. It was silver, just shy of six feet, and otherwise rather humanoid.

A Mandalorian.

You had only heard legends of their kind, having been put to sleep by the older kids from their elegant battles and unrivalled skill in combat as a child. Their unique way of life, The Way, and the fall of Mandalore, not to mention the use of the most rare and impenetrable metal in galaxies stretching much farther than you knew, beskar.