Star Wars Imagines (character X reader)

Mando

To say your life has been normal would be a lie, but you're not the only one. Under the rule of the empire no one has has a normal life. Babies are ripped from their families, children being orphaned by the empire and so on. You fall under the list of children being orphaned. The empire had located a few hidden Jedi in your town and flattened it in a matter of minutes, At-ST's wandering the streets shooting anything that moved. The only reason you survived was because of your brother, he held you close and got the two of you out of there. The last memory you have of your brother is him taking the hand of an armoured man, you being dragged away by the local slave owner. You were 5 at the time, your brother 8. 

From that day you've worked for a man called Farq, helping him run his shop. You spend most of your time cleaning new ship parts that have come in and making deliveries to people travelling through but not wanting to stay in the shabby rebuilt town. A number of new buildings stand, made out of the rubble of the old town but most places are large tents and ragged sheets to cover for shade. 

It's been a slow week for sales, very few people have been passing through and it's been effecting your masters mood, he's been more aggressive and verbally abusive which doesn't faze you much anymore but it's never good. He could become violent very quickly. 

"Y/n I swear if I find a single spec of dirt on any of these compressors it's not going to end well for you." He snaps as he dumps a pile of freshly scavengered compresses in front of you on the floor. Getting to work you clean each one with the sharpest eye you can. It takes you nearly two hours to get them all done and stacked up on the shelves in a presentable fashion. 

"Is there anything else for me to be doing master?" You ask not wanting to aggravate him any further. 

With a disgruntled huff he points to a box in the corner of the shop, filled with different discarded bits and bobs. It was clear your instructions were to go through it and sort out the worth for the junk. As you sit down in front of the box a customer finally wanders in, a man clad fully in armour. Taking a risk you glance up at him for a moment before returning your gaze to your work. 'Good slaves are invisible to the customers eyes' you repeat in your head a few times before jumping a little at the sound of the mans voice.

"I need a new compresser, a few fuel pipes and a few different wires that are suitable for a Crest craft." The man says in a monotone voice, the modulator of his mask making him sound slightly droid like. 

"Of course sir, we just got some new compressors in and I am sure we can find the rest. Feel free to brows and I will check the back for stock. Y/n no slacking." Your boss yells making you jump a little. 

 Continuing to make your way through the contents of the box you feel the stare of the customer on you but you don't dare look up again. Slaves have been punished for less. There isn't much to behold in the box, a few rusted parts from different ships, sheets of metal and so on. As you finger through everything your eyes are caught by a smooth shining curved surface coming out from the grime. Lifting it out softly you find yourself holding a helmet, one not too dissimilar from the one the customer is wearing. It shines like steel but doesn't feel like it.

"Where did you get that?" The customer asks harshly making you jolt. "That helmet doesn't belong here." He barks taking a few steps forward.

"I'm sorry is my slave upsetting you." You master quickly runs out casting you a rage filled gaze. 

"Where did you get that helmet? That's Mandalorian it doesn't belong with you." The armoured man chastises.

"Sir it was given to me in a box of salvaged goods. If you with to buy it with your current purchases it'll add another 6000 credits onto the price. I know Beskar when I see it."