𝐜𝐲𝐚𝐫𝐞'𝐬𝐞 - 𝘥𝘪𝘯 𝘥𝘫𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯

Favorite Crime

favorite crime • gn!reader
When your ex-partner-in-crime and past lover enters your life again, you find yourself looking back on fond memories with a tremendous desire to chase them again.

—§—

You've learned from all your years spent toiling at this cantina that when the patrons glance towards the door, you should, too. This time is the first time you freeze with them, your cloth stalling on the table you've been cleaning as you grip it in your hand. Your eyes are locked on the silhouette of the Mandalorian standing in the doorway, his visor sizing up the room as he somehow misses your gaze.

It can't be him, you insist to yourself. Upon studying him further, you notice his armor is silver, reflecting the light as he steps inside. You shake your head and look down. That's not his armor. You could never forget the red-colored pieces of beskar he hid within—especially the cuirass you rested your head upon more times than you can bother to count.

"This can't be comfortable."

You had laughed at the sound of Din's modulated and blunt words. "You'd be surprised," you had hummed in response. Your arms tightened around his waist as you pressed your cheek to the cool metal of his red beskar cuirass.

"You know, if we get caught out here—," Din had started to protest.

"Loosen up, Djarin!" You giggled again, giving his waist a gentle squeeze. "You can lead a heist but you can't handle sneaking off base for a few hours?" Din hadn't responded. You smiled and pressed a kiss to his cuirass. "Relax. Just look at the stars."

Silence had persisted for a few moments, but you could feel the swell of Din's chest as he prepared to speak. "I'd... rather look at you."

Your smile had grown even more—especially as you felt a gloved hand upon your head.

You shake your head again, forcing the memory out of your mind. Your hand continues its movements across the tabletop, wiping it clean with the damp cloth. You scrub at any stains harder than you need to, hoping the force of your actions will get rid of the familiar ache in your chest. You haven't had a flashback like that in a long time and you were unprepared to have another.

You hear the Mandalorian's bootsteps before he says anything at all. Your gaze glances up from your work to see him standing at the other side of the table. His helmet tilts at the sight of you. It's a familiar gesture, but you assume it's common amongst these people.

"Can I help you?" you ask, using the best customer service voice you can manage with your distracting thoughts.

The Mandalorian shifts his weight. You almost think he looks nervous. He doesn't answer your question.

"Sir, I know you can't enjoy a beverage or a meal," you say, standing up from where you've been leaning over the table as you hold the cloth between both your hands. "Is there someone you're looking for, or am I going to have to ask you to leave?"

You can see the Mandalorian's chest heave before he finally speaks. "I... suppose I was looking for someone."

His voice is enough to send a shockwave throughout your entire body. Your jaw falls open as your gaze softens at him. The cloth in your hands falls onto the tabletop, causing you to scramble in embarrassment as you pick it back up. You take a quick look around the room before lowering your voice. "Din?"

You picture Din smiling underneath the helmet as he leans one one leg. "It's been a while, rid'ika."

You shake your head with a fond smile. Despite what he put you through at the end of your run together—though you know it wasn't his fault—you can't stop the feeling of relief that floods your chest. "It has."