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andysficrecs · 2 years

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Undeserving (Din Djarin x Reader)

Din had always been critical, where he'd admire others he would only ever correct you. Upon arrival to Tatooine, you realized you would never be good enough for the Mandalorian.

Requested by Anon: ohh 46 with din please! #46 I'm never going to be good enough for you, am I?

A/N: I accidentally uploaded this with literally none of this blurb shit and just the fic and I'm fuckin flying to get this done please pretend you averted your gaze, you heathens. Just pretend, okay? Also thanks love youse enjoy this fic xxxx

Category: Angst, Seemingly unrequited love.

Warnings: Swearing (as Per usual)

"You shouldn't have been there to begin with," the bounty hunter snapped, turning on his heel. The dark, tattered cape fluttered behind him as if it were mimicry of his shadow.

"I told you I was going in for supplies," was your jaded quip.

The Mandalorian didn't offer a response, though you supposed that he rarely did at times like this. You'd conditioned yourself to ignore his continual nitpicking and he'd opted to just ignore you in general.

The root of this particular incident occurred upon first landing; the hunter had announced that he'd be leaving with the Child to organize a job. In turn, you had informed him that you'd be leaving to find parts and tools for repairs.

You thought he had heard you but judging by the way he'd stomped off, clearly-fucking-not.

"Do that again and I'll leave without you," the hunter grumbled, waiting for you to climb the Razor Crest's ramp. He always insisted on being the last to board and you eventually discovered it to be a protective habit.

That thought cooled your hot frustration and you sighed. "No, you won't."

Again, he said nothing. Of course, he wouldn't leave you behind. You knew it was a bluff, a result of not finding you where he had left you. His nagging was a product of his worry and you knew that.

It never made it less irritating.

"If we weren't on the run," the hunter began, approaching you slowly while the ramp door shut. "I'd hire somebody else."

The light dimmed with each step he took and the Child cooed from his place in the capsule. You ignored the way your heart raced as he closed the space between you, just as you'd pointedly denied every feeling the man evoked.

Instead, you threw your hands up towards the ceiling, lightly stretching the stiff joints in your shoulders. It was a show of playful arrogance when you shot him a wicked grin, "you'd be crawling back the next day."

"You're infuriating," he griped, shaking his head as if pulling himself from his own thoughts. "Do a better job than last time."

The hunter sidestepped past you, moving to offload his rifle in the armory and your heart panged at the comment. The only reason you'd needed supplies, to begin with, was due to a misstep you'd made with the wiring. That mistake had resulted in the loss of secondary controls and a nasty electrical burn snaking its way up the length of your arm.

The ship's pilot had made sure you knew he was angry. Although, the Mandalorian didn't yell, that just wasn't his style. Instead, the rage came through subtle cues: shortening his sentences, ignoring attempts at conversation, and retiring early every night since.

"Ok," you whispered, the humor knocked from your system. It was a stupid mistake and you should have known better. At the end of the day, no matter where you thought you stood with the armoured hunter, he was your employer.

You heaved the bag over your shoulder, taking a moment to adjust the weight. "I'll get started now," you said, swallowing the shake in your voice.

The hunter paused, rifle in hand. Although he didn't turn, he cocked his head towards the shoulder you stood behind. "It's late."

"Leave the mothering for the kid," you teased but the words tasted wrong. A deep and secret part of you loved when he showed concern for your health. It was a step above the critique and a world away from disinterest.

"I wasn't-" he cut himself off sharply and resumed stowing the weapon into the locker. When he did continue the words were clipped, "working tired means making mistakes. We can't afford more of those."

It felt like a punch to the gut but the message was clear. This time, you were the one that stayed silent, lowering the parts gently to the floor in a safe corner.

Without a word or a second glance, you made a beeline for your small cabin. Embarrassment flared red hot across your chest and face and you knew then that you weren't going to get much sleep anyway.

The Mandalorian avoided you for the rest of the night.

_____

"I'll do it," you snarled. "You don't need to pay someone else to do my job."

"It's convenient." That was his only reasoning, the best he could come up with.

Your chest was tight with frustration, you couldn't believe the nerve of this man. Landing on Tatooine had been a mission in itself, the Crest stalling a few meters off of the sand. While it wasn't ideal, it wasn't unexpected. The ship was in bad shape and needed a solid few days dedicated to repairs. You had inventory on what needed to be fixed and what parts you required, but Mando had other ideas.

As you said, the issue wasn't the landing. The issue was where you landed.

In a mechanic's bay.

"All I asked of you was a couple of days to let me really fix the damn ship," you snapped, whirling on him before he could open the cargo doors. The man straightened, watching you intently. Red-hot anger piped through your system. "All you let me do was fix it just enough to get the thing in hyperspace."

"That's your job," the hunter said slowly. "On-board mechanic."

"My job," you snarled through gritted teeth, "Is to fix the fucking ship in general."

Mando's fingers twitched by his side, an indication that he was starting to match your mood. "You're angry because I've lessened your workload?"

You bark a sardonic laugh, pointing aggressively to his chest. "I'm angry because you've just undermined me."

"Undermined you?"

His voice was starting to rise in volume, the indignant rasp making an appearance.

Reaching into your pocket, you pulled the neatly folded parchment from your overalls. You stomped towards him, so furious you couldn't care less about personal space. "Look!" You snapped, straightening the sheet. "I've got everything. Every diagnosis, every part, every priority fix- I've got everything!"

"Then give it to Peli," he said crisply.

You swore you could have thrown the sheet at him.

"So she can do my job?" You cried and a disbelieving scoff fell from your lips. "Are you serious right now?"

"You need to rest," he enforced, the modulated voice grating on your ears. When you opened your mouth to counter, he took a step into your space, forcing you to glare up into his visor. "You need to rest before you lay a single finger on this ship."

Of course.

The bounty hunter didn't care about your health, he didn't care about your sleep cycle. He just didn't want you to fuck up his ship.

At that moment, as you stared into your own eyes reflected through his visor- you knew. You didn't register his hand on your wrist, you didn't need to think about things like that anymore.

You were never going to be to his standard. No matter how much work you put in, it was just like he said: if you weren't all on the run, he would have replaced you in a heartbeat.

"You'd rather someone else work on the ship than me?" You finally said, voice barely a rasp. You know he heard you though, you were so close he could have tasted the words.

"Right now?" The tilt of his head was slight but it was enough. "Yes. I can't trust-" He paused.

You nodded, ignoring the quiver in your lips.

"You're making mistakes," he said as though it explained everything, as though he were justified.

Your heart grew heavy in your chest, stomach lined in lead. It all came down to this, every critique, every silent night- everything was whittled down to the fact that you just weren't what he needed. You were somebody he was stuck with.

"I'm never going to be good enough for you," you whispered, "am I?"

The Mandalorian swayed, fingers dropping from your wrist. There was a hefty silence as your vision swam. Hot, fat tears began to gather and you were embarrassed of yourself- embarrassed to give him the satisfaction of seeing the effect he had on you.

"What?" he breathed, head shaking fractionally. "That's not-"

"Mando!"

You both jolted, turning towards the sealed door. Peli rapped against the metal again, impatiently. "This isn't a parking spot for your flying tin can!"

Swiping the tears from your cheek, you took a large step back and smacked the hatch button. Mechanical creaking rumbled through your chest and the hot, Tatooine suns flared into the hold.

"You can pay Peli my wages from now on," you said softly, facing the exit. From your peripherals, Mando looked at you sharply. "I'll pick up the last of my things later."

You wouldn't allow him time to speak, making your way down the ramp before it had even settled. The wild-haired woman gave you a toothy grin and you couldn't find it in you to be mad at her.

She wasn't at fault.

With a tight-lipped smile, you approached with the list you'd compiled in hand.

"Long time no see!" The mechanic cried, throwing her hands above her head. "It's been boring without youse here!"

"Missed you too, Peli," you murmured distractedly. You gripped her hand, pushing the paper into her open palm. "This is everything you need to know to get this junk running."

You watched as she opened it, running her eyes over the sheet briefly. "Far-out kiddo, you've already got it sorted. What do you need me for?"

"You're the better mechanic." You gave a sardonic smirk, clapping a hand over her shoulder. "They're all yours."

Adjusting the bag over your shoulder, you turned to leave and came up short. Mando stood behind you, chest heaving with the weight of furious breaths.

"What are you doing?" He hissed, shaking his head.

"What you've been wanting," you said with a saccharine smile. When he didn't reply, you felt your chest squeeze; the mocking expression melting into something else.

"It's for the best," you murmured neutrally, ensuring only he could hear you. "I wasn't what you needed."

When you turned this time, he didn't stop you.

#din djarin x reader

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andysficrecs · 2 years

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kar’taylir

din djarin x female!reader

kar’taylir [kar-tie-leer]

to know, to hold in the heart.

summary: the four times Din Djarin almost says it, and the one time he does. alternatively, the four times you almost say it, and the one time you do.

a/n: *gif is not mine, it’s from Pinterest* just imagine that trend on tiktok where people scream and cry in their shower to the bridge of enchanted by taylor swift, except it’s Din doing it. also, did I include a Princess Bride reference? yes, cause I’m trash, but I thought it fit (sidenote this may just be my most favourite thing I’ve ever fucking written??)

warnings: a FUCK ton of angst, major one-sided pining (is it though?), jealousy, broody Din, reader is fucking oblivious, Cobb Vanth being a flirty little shit, eventually a lotta fluff

word count: 6.1K (it's a long one, guys, but I promise its worth it)

🪐

“Stop. Moving.” You spit through gritted teeth as you try to wipe at the bloody mess before you.

Mando flinches beneath the wet rag. “Just-“ he groans as you swipe rather harshly at the wound that traces his entire bicep. “Just use the bacta spray, dank farrik!”

“It’s called cleaning the wound first. Maker, Mando, how you made it this long is kriffing beyond me.” You squeeze out the bloody rag into the bucket placed at your feet before draping it on the side.

The vibroblade that had caused the wound had made a perfect gash—deep, bloody, and very infected.

Usually, you had a weak stomach and weren’t able to tend to wounds, especially of this magnitude. But the more injuries your Mandalorian had acquired, the more you were put in a position to take care of him. And so, here were the two of you, hunched over each other in concentration.

You pull out said bacta spray from the medical kit along with a pair of scissors. Placing your hand along the rip in his shirt, you run your fingers gently around the fraying ends and look at your friend. “I’m going to have to cut the rest of the fabric around the wound so that way the bacta can reach the surrounding areas—“

“No, I—that’s enough—“

“Mando…” you warn lowly, attracting his attention to you. “It’s okay. It’s just me.”

He lets go of a shaky breath and allows himself to lean back against the metal wall. You take that as your go ahead and begin to cut the shirt. You know about his Creed, how strictly he follows it and what he allows himself to feel comfortable with. You respect him greatly, and so you make sure to only cut away the parts of the fabric that is needed.

Splaying your hand on the curve of his armor-ridden shoulder (you had somehow managed to convince him to remove it in order for you actually heal him properly) you take the bacta and spray along the jagged edges of the now clean wound. It’s a nasty cut, but far more manageable when it’s not covered in blood and scabs.

He flinched again at the cool contact but quickly settled into you. “You need to even out your breathing. You're gonna make yourself light-headed.” You say nonchalantly, making sure you are focused on getting bacta to every exposed area possible.

He doesn’t respond, but you do hear him pause, then inhale and exhale deeply through his modulator. You’re grateful for the way it calms you down—hands cease shaking, allowing you to start wrapping his arm in bandages. “You gotta keep this on. You can take it off in a couple days, but until then…” you tuck the open end into itself and stand up wiping at your knees and the dirt that accumulated on them from the ship's floor. “Until then don’t do anything to aggravate it.”

He huffs, but you can tell he tries to hide it as a cough when you shoot him a sour look. “I’m serious, Mando. I see that thing come off before it’s supposed to and you’re a dead man. You hear me? I’ll beat your ass so hard even the New Republic officers won’t be able to find you.”

He groans as he sits up slowly. “They already can’t find me.”

His quip elicits a harsh look from you. He raises his non-injured arm up in defense. “Alright, I get it. I won’t take it off.”

You keep the glare on him until you’re sure he got the message, then slowly allow the hint of a smile to breakthrough.

Then, you hear a coo and feel two tiny hands grab at your ankle. You look down with an even bigger smile and pick up the baby. “Hi, little guy!” You sit him in the curve of your inner elbow and bounce around on your heels, waiting for him to burst into a fit of giggles. Although it doesn’t take much for your tiny green child to laugh, he is almost always overjoyed when you bounce him around or spin with him in the air.

“You wanna see your dad?” His mouth falls open in a silent laugh when you reposition him against your chest. “Yeah, he’s alright. A little stupid, but he’s okay.”

You look up to Mando mid-laugh only to see that he’s already looking at you and the kid.

Typically, it’s unnerving when he stares. After all, intimidation is his strong suit. When he wants to be scary, he is, and with a type of ease only he possesses, he parts crowds like the Geyser Sea. But right now, he isn’t like that. It’s…different, somehow.

Instead of the sharp lines of his visor being pointed down, they’re slightly titled upward—an air of softness to the minuscule movements he makes. A strange, yet familiar feeling bubbles in your stomach, but you do what you know best and push it down. You clear your throat before sitting down beside your friend and place the baby in the middle of you two.

“Tell me again why you waited almost two days to treat that?”

He shrugs, head lolling to the side as the kid plays with his gloved fingers. “You’re better at patching me up, I guess.”

You feel your face quirk up. “Well, you’re not wrong. I am an amazing medic.”

He lets out a soft laugh, picking the green child up and sitting him in his lap. “An amazing medic who passed out after seeing a blaster burn for the first time.”

“Oh, c’mon, that was one time. I didn’t have any experience yet!” You lean into him unconsciously as you both play with your adopted child. “Besides…you don’t seem to be complaining. I mean who else is gonna patch you up? Certainly, not him,” a pair of big brown eyes meets yours. “The kids smart, but he’d definitely try eating at least half of what’s in that med kit.”

He laughs harder this time. The sound reverberates off the walls of the Razor Crest and rattles your ribs.

He’s lovely.

The two of you fall into another bout of comfortable silence. The only sounds are the occasional creaks of an old ship and the baby’s soft humming.

“Y/N…?” You turn your head enough so that way your eyes catch his through his helmet. He breathes deeply, chest rising and falling until yours fall into the same rhythm. He takes one particular shaky breath and then… “thank you.”

"Anytime."

ii.

“Y/N, this is Cobb Vanth. A frien—“

“The Marshal,” you say in awe. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

The man in question shoots you a friendly smile: wide and toothy. He’s an attractive man, with dark silver hair swept to the one side of his face and bright hazel eyes that lift up at the corners. He softly takes your hand in his, cradling it like you do your child. “All good things I hope.”

You snicker, earning a wink from the stranger. He lets your hand fall at that, but never leaves your side, opting to face Mando and bump shoulders with you.

“Mando,” he muses. “You didn’t tell me how pretty your uh, friend here was. Would’ve liked to freshen up a bit, ya know.”

“No need.” Mando’s voice is low and dark and sends chills down your spine. “We’re just visiting. But we should go, it’s getting dark.” He practically stomps towards the two of you, shoulders squared out and head held up high. You quickly notice how his arms are held to his sides, fists clenched as though he’s restraining himself. It makes you nervous.

What he's restraining himself for? You don’t know. But the sight makes you gulp and want to hide in the safety of your bunk on the ship. Even the child, whose head pokes out of the brown satchel that rests on your hip, cowers back into the safety of the bag at the sight of the angry Mandalorian.

“Now wait just a second.” Cobb places a friendly hand on the man’s shoulder and points to the closest—and quite frankly, the only—cantina in Mos Pelgo. “You two just arrived. Take a break for once Mando, yeah? You’re all work and no play, it’s not healthy. Lemme buy you and the lady a drink.”

Somehow, your Mandalorian bristles even more at that notion, and before anything can escalate, you choose to interject.

“That sounds wonderful, Cobb, thank you.” Out of the corner of your eye, you see the familiar beskar helmet snap in your direction. He backs up a bit, adding distance between the three of you, and somehow that one act shows you just how tense the air had gotten.

You watch your friend as he shifts. It’s subtle, hardly noticeable if you’re a stranger—but all too familiar to you. He’s retreating. “You, you want to stay?” His voice is softer than usual and you swear you catch a hint of sadness.

It’s like a punch in the gut.

“Well, we’re just visiting, right? Might as well get a drink. I could go for some spotchka, and uh, I think you could use a break too.” You try to keep your tone as even as possible as you send Mando a comforting smile. One that you hope he accepts as an olive branch.

Instead, he just stands there for a couple seconds as your pulse pounds. Then, he bows his head. “…As you wish.”

“Great!” Cobb says as he leads the three of you up the steps of the cantina. He walks in ahead, calling to the bartender with a loud laugh.

Mando goes to follow him to the bar until you stop him in the middle of the room. You’re both extremely exposed, but that thought doesn’t concern you right now. As a matter of fact, not much does. The only thing that concerns you is him.

It’s always been him.

You open your mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. The air is thick and heavy but it’s not from the Tatooine heat, rather, the sudden coldness between two friends. You don’t know what to say to him, but you can’t leave it like this. You can’t pretend that something didn’t just happen, regardless of the fact that you don’t know what that something is. But he waits. He patiently stands there, but he never looks at you. You realize you can’t look at him either.

It can’t just be you…

The kid pushes himself further out of the bag to greet his father, probably picking up on the weird silence. That action alone gives you strength. “Are you okay?” You whisper. You meant to sound stern, but your throat is dry and scratched. You chalk it up as a side effect of being surrounded by sand, but you can’t rule out fear either.

“I don’t know what you mean,” is his response.

Your heart drops…maybe it is just you.

He’s far more composed than you: with his hands on his hips and visor trained on the baby gurgling at your hip. You take a quick once-over of him to make sure you’re not hallucinating, but he remains relaxed. There’s still something wrong. Something feels off with his words, and it hurts to analyze. To worry. To hope that everything’s okay when it definitely feels like it isn’t. “Look,” he sighs and goes to reach for your arm in a way he’s done countless times before. But he stops. He stops mid-air, and you wait for something to happen, but it never does. Simply, you watch him retreat for the second time in ten minutes. “You’re right. We need a break and Cobb’s good company. Seems to like you a lot. Let’s just enjoy ourselves.”

You step closer to him and wish more than anything that you could actually see his eyes. You want to see the colours that flicker in his iris’; the way you imagine they soften at the sight of his son, and how they glow when he laughs. You want to pinpoint the different emotions he feels through eyes alone, but he doesn’t give you that. He just nods politely and walks inside the cantina leaving you and the little green guy to fear the worst.

iii.

He feels stupid.

Like, really kriffing stupid.

Cobb had picked the table furthest from the bar, smack dab in the corner, providing an ample view of the entire cantina. Though there weren’t that many patrons, Din still liked to be in the corner. He was an observer after all. It was where he had the most control because he didn’t have to worry about anyone sneaking up on him. It also allowed him to see everyone in a more subtle way; one where he wasn’t blatantly staring and would likely rile up a drunk who wanted to pick a fight.

He could monitor things and still be able to enjoy what little amount he allowed himself to partake in.

But he feels stupid. Because that’s not the case right now.

He could have a group of raiders walk right up to him and he would never notice. Not when he’s staring at you. It isn’t that this is a rare thing he does because it happens more often than he’d care to admit—when his attention drifts to the one thing, the one person, that somehow constantly invades his mind.

He tells himself that it’s for safety. He’s keeping an eye on you, making sure you’re alright and that no one’s bothering you (although he’s the first one to say anything whenever anyone does). But even he knows that’s a lie.

It’s not uncommon for him to steal subtle (or what he hopes are subtle) glances at you, but it is uncommon for him to be this angry when looking at you.

Usually, he’s at peace when it comes to you. But he wasn’t anticipating Cobb to invite the two of you for a drink. He wasn’t anticipating Cobb to take such a liking to you, nor, to offer to go with you to the bar to get said drinks even though you’re more than capable. But out of all the surprises he’s had today, the one that shakes him the most is you taking such a liking to Cobb.

The two of you are talking wildly to each other as the barkeep prepares your drinks. You’re smiling at him and he’s smiling right back, and you’re doing that thing where when you get excited you talk with your hands.

Din finds it endearing, but right now it’s different. Because he’s just watching. He’s not the one you’re excited about. So, he can’t bring himself to join you two. He knows that he wouldn’t be able to handle seeing you look at him like he’s a burden, a buzzkill who only knows how to follow you like a lost pet. But he wants to. Maker does he ever. Because maybe at the end of it all he’d get to keep you. You’d choose him after realizing that he’s always chosen you.

He forces himself to look away at that. Why would you choose someone who you can’t even see return your smile?

He’d never disobey his Creed. It’s a part of him, it’s what he stands for. And yet, he can’t count the number of times he’s second-guessed himself just to show you that he does in fact smile, that he’s alive, that he needs you more than anything. He’s a breathing man with a bleeding heart that wasn’t made for you but can’t live without you. And he hates it.

“Here we go,” Cobb sits down gently on the chair and places the drinks in the middle of the table.

Din keeps his arms crossed over his chest as he watches you take the seat beside him. The kid notices your back and immediately grasps for your attention. Which you give to him every single time because you love him.

Din would give anything to be him.

You sit the child down in your lap and grab at your glass of spotchka when a look of realization hits you. “Oh, we forgot his broth.”

Cobb, in what Din sees as a chance to impress you, is already up before you can ask. “I got it. You sit tight little guy.”

The man saunters off and when he’s out of earshot, you turn to look at him. Din feels himself start to sweat. “So, I know you said everything’s okay, but I call bullshit.”

Din’s eyes widen at the blunt statement. Not that she can see, but he’s very aware of his reactions to her (maybe the fact that she can't see is for the best). “Mando, what’s going on?” She lifts the baby up so that he can see him clearer. “We’re both worried.”

He sighs and shifts in his seat. Quickly, he weighs his options.

He could ignore her, wait until Cobb gets back, and then interrupt their little date. Cobb would get the hint and she’d be back with him and their kid on the Razor Crest. But he realizes that’s selfish of him and she’d be even angrier with him…possibly even hate him, which is the last thing he wants. Ever. So he scraps that thought. He thinks that he could bluff his way out of the situation: tell her his mind is once again on his abandoned covert and that he’s just having an off-day. It wouldn’t be the first time, and if he was convincing enough she’d probably believe him. But then he thinks of something different. He considers, for a very brief moment, what it’d be like if he just told her. He could tell her everything. How she’s all he can think about most days and nights, how he imagines what it’d be like to actually hold her hand without reason, and most importantly, how his biggest fantasy involves him taking off his helmet and kissing her. Actually kissing her like he’s longed to do since the first week of having her stay with them.

She doesn’t long for you, though.

He realizes she’s still looking at him and so he makes his decision. “It’s just an off-day for me, cyar’ika. I’ll be alright. I’m sorry if I worried you and the little one.”

She pauses, her face turned downward in sadness. His heart twists painfully. But soon she smiles. It’s faint and fake and nothing like her usual self, but it’s something.

“Okay.”

Cobb comes back to the table with a small bowl of broth and places it before the kid. The conversation returns to normal and Din is thankful that the noise is just loud enough to drown his thoughts. Even if for a short while.

iv.

“Oh, Mando look at this!”

You show him a large green and blue textile with intricate designs along its edges. It was knitted with care and looked impossibly comfortable, as far as Din could tell. “It’s beautiful.”

You smile widely and lift it up to properly look it over. “It reminds me of him.” You look down to the child that this time Din was now holding. He lifts him out of the bag in order to show him the blanket, which he immediately grabs onto. The baby coos at you, which elicits a giggle and smooth knuckles to run over his cheek. “He likes it,” you say. “We should get it for him. It can be his new blanket.”

“He has lots of blankets, cyar’ika.” He knows you know this. You're both a sucker for the little guy, but at some point Din reasons, he will have to stop spending so many credits on blankets. Though, if it keeps his cyar’ika and his ad’ika happy, he figures it can’t be all that bad.

It seems though you’ve already beat him to that realization. “Yeah, and who gets him all those blankets? Us. ‘Cause, we’re the best parents in this kriffing galaxy.”

His parents. Din preens at your words. “I’ll buy it. You go look around some more, we’re gonna have to leave soon.”

You frown playfully at him but take his advice and skip off to another booth filled with hand-made items.

Din smiles at you beneath his mask then looks down to see his child already looking up at him. The baby, who knows far more than he lets on, looks at him and then looks at you, only to look back at Din. It’s then his turn to follow the kid’s line of sight before it clicks. “No. Not happening,” Din mutters, pulling a couple of credits out of his pocket and passing them to the vendor who gives him the folded blanket.

He tucks the blanket under his arm then walks in your direction. You had moved on to a new vendor, touching anything you could get your hands on. This particular display though seemed to have you preoccupied as you proved to be too distracted to notice him come up beside you. “Find anything you like?”

You don't respond, but Din sees how your eyes were fixated on one particular piece of jewelry. The necklace was strung up on the stand closest to the woman who he assumed made them: a beautiful, long silver chain with a small moonstone attached to it. You admire it, but eventually back away from the display. You take a quick glance at all the pieces one last time before smiling at the lady then looking up to Din.

“No, it’s alright. Let’s go home.” Home. Our home.

He looks at the table and then at you. He’s not really good at the whole surprise thing (in all fairness he’s never had anyone to surprise) but, he thinks, as Cara always tells him ‘there’s a first for everything', he might as well start now.

“You go ahead, cyar’ika. I’ll catch up. I just need to finalize some things with the bounty.” Din passes you the child and the blanket and he pretends he doesn’t notice his pulse quicken when you look at him like he’s the kindest person in the galaxy.

He’s not. But he hopes he’s enough for you.

You touch his shoulder, the same shoulder you healed only weeks ago, then walk away to the loading dock with your child in tow as Din heads back to the market.

You don’t think you will ever get used to hyperspace.

Colours, the kind you imagine even the queen of Naboo is envious of, rush past you in a mosaic of light. Your heart drops to your stomach as you lurch forward into what always seems like another dimension. It’s a visceral experience. It’s addictive.

The Razor Crest is a big ship, but in hyperspace, it’s weightless. And maybe that’s why you love it so much because you can’t get that kind of weightlessness anywhere else.

You’re invigorated by it at all.

Unfortunately, not everyone on the ship is having as good of a time as you are.

Below the cockpit, down the stairs, and to the right is where Din paces back and forth. The child watches from the corner, eyes going back and forth, stopping, then going back and forth again as he tracks his dad's nervous movement.

Din then stops and sits beside the kid with his back against the wall. “I don’t think I’ve ever given a gift before.”

Mandalorians don’t get nervous; they’re not supposed to. They’re supposed to be composed warriors, the soldier everyone relies on. But right now, Din can’t even rely on himself.

It’s really nothing special, simply a necklace. A piece of jewelry that you eyed, but eventually dismiss—

Wait. Did you even want the necklace?

Maybe Din read the situation wrong and you had actually decided you didn’t like it. Maybe you were simply looking at it because it was ugly, like how you study something you don’t understand.

Great. Now he’s going to give you an ugly necklace that you don’t want.

Maybe he’s not as observant as everyone says he is. As he likes to think he is.

“Dank farrik.” Din slams the back of his beskar covered head into the metal wall. This wasn’t exactly how he planned this to go.

In hindsight, he wasn’t exactly sure of how it would play out anyway, but he liked to believe giving you the necklace would lead to you giving him some amount of attention. No matter how little or how much, as long as it came from you he’d do anything for it.

Maybe he’d give it to you and you’d smile in the warm way only you can. The kind of smile that even the most beautiful of moons cry over because they’re nothing compared to you. Maybe you’d touch his face through his helmet and he’d soak into your embrace the way he’s done thousands of times before. Or maybe you’d laugh, take the gift and never think about it again.

Yeah. That sounds more probable.

“I don’t know, buddy… Do you think she’ll like it?” He goes to reach for the necklace in his pocket but it’s not there. And quite frankly neither is his kid.

He’s frantic in his search for the child and the jewelry until his eyes catch him on the ladder.

Since when did he—

Damn it.

He jumps up, as quickly as his body will allow, but the baby’s already at the top with the necklace in hand.

Your little green child coos. Your turn your head to see him shuffling over to you, a huge grin on his face with something stuck in his mouth.

“Ugh,” pushing yourself off the captain's chair, you nab the kid and sit back down with him. “How do you find this stuff, I swear to Maker, kid.”

His teeth clamp harder on the object as you try to pry it out of his mouth until you finally get your fingers around it and pull it out. It’s wet from his saliva and he laughs at you as you wipe it on your shirt in disgust. Lifting him up so he’s above eye level you give him a stern look. “Stop trying to eat everything. Especially when you don’t know where that thing's been.”

Your scolding just makes him giggle harder, forcing you to roll your eyes. You swear you’re going to roll your eyes right out of their sockets one day.

You both then turn your heads to the sound of shoes pounding up the ladder, and then the door opens to the cockpit.

Mando stands there breathing heavily, as his helmet scans the entire room before landing on you two.

“Are you…are you doing okay?”

Even under his helmet, you can tell he’s flustered, and then as quickly as he came up the steps, he focuses on you. “Sorry, I just…he had a thing in his mouth and I didn’t want him to swallow it.”

“Oh yeah trust me, I already fought with him over it.” You laugh while picking up the object you set to the side.

You swear you actually hear Mando’s breath stutter as you finally take a look at the object. At first, you don’t recognize it, concern flooding your mind at the thought of your little baby choking on something as dangerous as this.

But then you realize what it is.

Din’s shifted his weight to his other leg and he can feel his hands flex nervously—compression gloves not enough to stop him from wanting to grab the object right out of your grasp.

But he knows you. He knows you well. And he can see you’ve already figured out what you’re holding.

Your eyes meet his through his helmet. “This is…this is the necklace.” It dangles from your fingertips, and the child swats at it—the jewelry becoming his newfound obsession. “The one from the market I was looking at…”

“Yes.” He cringes at how he sounds. So quick and robotic and awkward, and so very unprepared. He’s never felt this nervous before, and yet he can’t back away. He has to deal with it. “You didn’t buy it, but, I thought maybe you still wanted it. So I got it for you. As…as a gift.”

You look down at the pendant and smile softly, running your thumb over the cool, smooth stone. “If you don’t want it, I can trade it for something else when we land. Something more desirable—“

“What’s that word…?” You both speak at the same time.

“Sorry,” you chuckle out. You’ve caught his attention though, caught him off guard on his needless apology, so you clear your throat. “How do you say beautiful in Mando’a?”

He’s stunned beyond words. Beyond thoughts. And yes, he’s acutely aware of the fact that he knows he probably looks like an idiot—a man who doesn’t even know how to talk to the woman he loves, much less surprise her with something so heartfelt. But the way you look at him, sincerity in your eyes as you await a response, his brain short circuits and he somehow gives you one.

“The word is mesh’la.”

“Mesh’la,” you repeat softly. He feels his knees buckle at your voice speaking in his mother tongue and he curses every deity for putting him in such a foreign situation.

But then you’re putting the necklace on without a second thought. As though it’s routine and the necklace is already part of your being. And then his nervousness melts away. It de-escalates into something different. Something that propels him further, closer to you.

You’re a magnet and he’s the piece of metal flying through the air, willed by a force he cannot control. “Do you…like it?”

“I wouldn’t be putting it on if I didn’t like it, now would I be, Mando?”

“Din.”

“…what?”

He hadn’t even noticed that it slipped out. And he’s surprised his covert haven’t already started to beat down the walls of his ship. A confession of a gift is one thing, but Din telling you his name is just purely reckless. He should stop while he’s ahead, but the dam has been cracking beneath the weight of his feelings for a long time. So it seems that it’s time he gives them a chance.

“My name,” his voice shakes, wavers with each syllable. “My name, cyar’ika, is Din Djarin.”

You stare out, eyes wide with shock and disbelief. But then there’s a calmness that shines through. You look down at the kid, who has been watching the two of you closely for a while now.

He hears his heart pounding in his ears so loudly he’s positive he's going to pass out. “Din…” You repeat the name slowly, unsure of it as you test out the way it feels as it rolls off your tongue. “Din. I like that name. It suits you.”

“I like your name, too.” You laugh loudly. If it were out of context, he would’ve panicked at your laughter, but after realizing how ridiculous he sounded, he finds it easy to laugh right along with you.

You hold the kid in the crook of your elbow as you stand in front of the man with a permanent smile on your face. “And uh, cyar’ika…” Din’s heart drops to his stomach and his blood runs cold. “What does that mean? I figured it meant friend or something like that but…” you’re hesitant to voice your thoughts, worried that maybe you’re overthinking it; anticipating and expecting something only for it not to be there. Wishful thinking. “I’m just curious.”

Of course, you are. Why wouldn’t you be? It was only a matter of time before you were going to ask him. Only a matter of time before you put all the signs together. Before you realized you didn’t want him that way.

Cara once told him he wasn’t subtle. At first, he had no clue what she meant, but he knows now. And he wishes he didn’t.

He takes a deep breath and tries to ignore the welling up in the corner of his eyes, but understands that it’s pointless. His time is up.

“Cyar’ika…” his tongue swells up his mouth. He’s never felt this breathless before. “It means sweetheart.”

Even from behind his helmet he feels exposed. Everything is out in the open and nothing he can do, or say, can fix it. And the fact that this is the first time since he met you that he can’t read you? It truly terrifies him.

He tenses up, waiting for the moment in which you say goodbye. When you kiss the forehead of your child, pack up your things, and give your awkward thanks to Din for allowing you to stay with them.

He waits, and waits, and waits. But it never comes. Instead, you slowly bring your hands up to his. He holds his breath, or rather, his breath holds him. Your hands gently glide on his arms until they reach the broad expanse of his shoulders, and then the edges of his helmet.

He hesitates, but you don’t stop there. Eventually, your hands stop on the sides of his helmet, where you assume the sides of his face would be if you were to hold him without his armor. He can’t help but lean into the contact you provide him. Even through the impenetrable beskar, he can still feel the warmth of your hands on his skin, imagines how it would feel to place his skin on yours. It may be temporary, but if this is all he’ll get for the rest of his life, he’d die happy. “What should I call you then?”

He…wasn’t expecting that. Actually, it was the last thing he expected you to say. You take his silence as a good sign to keep going. “Well, if you call me sweetheart…what should I call you?”

“I…” Din almost cries. He’s tired, stressed, and feels like he’s on a tightrope. But the more he thinks about it, the more he realizes you aren’t running away. You’re staying here. Touching him through his helmet and looking at him the way he’s wanted you to for what feels like forever. You're looking at him the same way he looks at you. “Din. I just want you to call me Din.”

You smile at that. At him. “Din…” he melts underneath you, relishing in the way his name sounds in your voice. And then you're reaching up to him, hands still holding his helmet firmly as you ever-so-gently pull him to meet you. And then…

Then you kiss him. You plant a feather-light kiss to his helmet, one that lingers and permanently takes ownership of his breath. You pull away from him before pressing your foreheads together and Din swears he just died.

The two of you stay like that for…you aren’t too sure how long. It feels like it’s been both seconds and minutes. Although you really aren’t keeping track, the dizzying feeling rattling around in your skull makes your brain feel like mush.

You can feel Din’s breastplates move slowly, letting you know that he’s calmed down, coming down from the shared high of two friends who’ve finally collided. He inhales deeply and his hands rest over yours. Your fingers intertwine on the sides of his helmet, but then he’s lifting up the beskar, and you panic.

“Din, stop.” You don’t realize how breathless you’ve become and you’re shocked that even with the lack of oxygen to your brain, you’re still aware of his creed.

But he cuts you off and presses his forehead to yours again. “It’s okay, just…just close your eyes. Please.” It's almost a whimper, and the sound ruins you (you take mental note of that sound for later). So you close your eyes.

You’re eager to feel him. To touch skin rather than just beskar. You don’t know what he looks like, might not know for a long time, but you’ll know what he'll feel like. And right now that’s the only thing keeping you going.

Your hands feel him first. Smooth and warm and a hint of stubble. You begin to map out his face with your hands, all while he holds you. It’s the most intimate you’ve ever been with someone…the most intimate you think you’ll ever be. Then, he’s kissing you. It’s firm, yet gentle. Soft, yet hard. It’s everything you both imagined it to be, and more.

It’s so beautiful it hurts. But at least now you two don’t have to deal with the pain on your own.

#din djarin x reader

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andysficrecs · 3 years

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*inhales deeply*

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

I’M SO IN LOVE WITH THIS. FUCK.

INTERLUDE: THE CHASE

A/N: Finally, we reach the end of the prologue chapters! They seemed to run away from me in terms of length so apologies! I had planned for these not to take as much time (or word count honestly haha). Be warned that there is a lot of time jumping in this chapter and hopefully I’ve labelled it clearly enough. Now, I’m just gonna sit here and pray my bullshit logic actually makes sense in this chapter.

Please note that the explicit rating comes into effect from the next chapter, so that means no one under the age of 18 should be reading this fic!

Pairing: Din Djarin/Fem!Reader

Word Count: 14.5k (forgive me)

Rating: Explicit - 18+

Warnings: Language, some violence

Summary: The Mandalorian sends his most precious cargo to you.

AO3 | Stitches Masterlist | Main Masterlist

9 ABY, Mynock, Dandoran. Present time - Sometime after midnight.

The fourth time you met him, well… it wasn’t him at all.

A Kubaz tracker fell at your feet, smoke rising from the charred wound on his back. The dull, trunked mask he wore facing you where he fell; emotionless in death, as they were in life. You didn’t miss the startling green of his right sleeve against the dark robes he wore. The Quai-Kisu. If you weren’t sure before, you were convinced now.

You were being hunted.

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#din djarin x reader

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andysficrecs · 3 years

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Part of me genuinely thought ‘maybe just the prologue. maybe that’ll be enough for one sitting’

WELL THE SUN IS RISING AND I’M PREPARED FOR THE LONG HAUL. GOD DAMN IT RACHEL, THIS IS WHAT I WAS AVOIDING, GETTING SUCKED IN AND LOSING SELF CONTROL.

PREQUEL ARC: PART 3 - THE BOUNTY

A/N: Part 3 of Stitches has arrived! This chapter was difficult to write, I’ll be honest. And I’d really appreciate any feedback if it doesn’t read as well as the first two chapters or doesn’t make sense or is boring etc. etc.

This is the penultimate prologue chapter, with the story very much shifting to surround the dynamic and growth of the readers relationship with Din so if you can hold out for me just a bit longer, I promise, I’ll make it worth the wait. You know what I’m talking about friends.

Pairing: Din Djarin/Fem!Reader

Word Count: 7k

Rating: 18+ (NO Minors)

Warnings: None

Summary: You encounter Mando suffering one misfortune after another.

AO3 | Stitches Masterlist | Main Masterlist

9 ABY, on the Hydian Way.

Din prided himself on the strength of his principles. An unwavering certainty in everything he did that gave him a modicum of peace as he wandered throughout the galaxy amidst wars, rebellions and the chaos that ensued in their aftermath.

He was certain when he took the Creed, when he sacrificed a future for himself in service of the covert; something he had never regretted to this day. He had never regretted any bounty taken; unmoved by pleas, promises or threats. Neither tears nor anger could sway his resolve.

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#din djarin x reader

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andysficrecs · 3 years

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PREQUEL ARC: PART 2 - THE HOUK

A/N: Part 2 is here! First and foremost, can I just say thank you so much for the reception Part 1 received and to those who (gasps!) actually want me to tag them for updates??? I don’t know how to react??? I’m so touched??????? It’s so motivating and has reminded me why I love sharing my scribbles!

There’s a greater focus on world/character building in this chapter so if it feels a bit rambling or description heavy, I do apologise! Like I said, I’m trying to build some context to the reader-insert before we get to the smut, and I hope that I’ve kept her general enough that she doesn’t cross the line too much into OC territory and becomes unrelatable. As always, constructive criticism is welcome! My style of writing leaves much to be desired so I would love to know if something doesn’t make sense so I can improve and fix it. But enough of that, on with the show!

Pairing: Din Djarin/Fem!Reader

Word Count: 5.2k

Rating: 18+ (NO Minors)

Warnings: Language and slight injury detail.

Plot: You encounter Mando suffering one misfortune after another.

AO3 | Stitches Masterlist | Main Masterlist

8 ABY, Mynock, Dandoran.

The second time you met him, he had dislocated his shoulder after a nasty clash with a Houk.

Your dealing with the Mandalorian on Klatooine had moved to the back of your mind and you rarely, if ever, thought about it. It was merely another encounter with a rough character that needed some medical attention. You wouldn’t have been able to hazard a guess at how many similar characters you saw in a week while you worked at the clinic. Even more so when you’d left Klatooine after becoming disillusioned that the New Republic were actually trying to make a difference.

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#din djarin x reader

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andysficrecs · 3 years

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I’ve been putting off delving into this because I just knew I’d get hooked and want to read it all in one sitting...

So, of course, it’s 4am and I’ve given in to temptation, and I am 100% sure I was right... I’m already so fucking hooked Rachel. I’ve seen your current word count for this series. I’m gonna die, aren’t I? I’m gonna die reading this fic, be it from sheer adoration for it, or refusing to take a break... and I’m ok with that.

Bring forth my destruction, my queen.

I’m already so ready for this to destroy me, you have no idea.

ANYWAY THIS WAS A LOT OF RAMBLING THAT DIDN’T SAY HOW MUCH I LOVE IT, BUT I LOVE IT.

AND I’LL BE BACK WITH MORE COMMENTS SOME CHAPTERS LATER WHEN I’M READY TO THROW MORE LOVE YOUR WAY. K THANKS BYE

PREQUEL ARC: PART 1 - THE DAGGER

A/N: I come bearing a brainchild. One I love deeply but am unsure of how it will be received! Straight off the bat I had planned for this to be something that satisfied those Din cravings we’ve all been having through a healthy dose of smut on the regular. BUT I wanted some background? Some context?? In my head we’ll have a few interactions i.e. chapters before the events of The Mandalorian and then kick off all guns blazing. Therefore, this pilot chapter is short, slow, and not a lot happens. (I should be in sales obv) but let’s get the ball rolling and see where it takes us!

Pairing: Din Djarin/Fem!Reader

Rating: 18+ (NO Minors)

Warnings: Language, slight detail on wounds and their treatment.

Summary: You encounter Mando suffering one misfortune after another.

AO3 | Stitches Masterlist | Main Masterlist

6ABY, Derelkann, Klatooine.

The first time you met him, he’d been caught with a dagger laced with raquor’daan venom.

You had been locking up the side entrance to the voluntary medical center you spent your time at while on Klatooine when there was a resounding clatter. One of the many piles of discarded junk was toppled by an armored leg; equally armored arms braced by the side of the center while the imposing cut of the figure steadied himself. You could just about hear the labored pants, distorted by the modulator of his helmet; a sound familiar enough to you to know it wasn’t from exertion, but pain. Once you’d determined he wasn’t an immediate threat, weighing the possibilities as quickly as you could, you walked deeper down the alley towards the male. It was dark, the only light coming from the streetlight at the front of the clinic and that which was reflected from the man’s helmet but still you went.

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#din djarin x reader

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andysficrecs · 3 years

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I'm a mess omfg.

It doesn't help that i'm currently stuck in bed due to health reasons, but fuck this got to me and my very soul. It was so beautiful and in character and soft but real at the same time and- hi i'd like a Javi to look after me pls, where do I sign up????

heyy could you do something with javier and “ who did this to you? “ [silence] “ hey, look at me. look at me. who did this to you?” from the injury post please? thank you!!<3

AN | Please, this is one of my favorite tropes, so please enjoy!

Pairing | Javier x Fem!Reader

Warnings | Mention of injury and blood

Word Count | 2.3k

Masterlist | Main, Javier

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You didn't know why you found yourself knocking at Javier's door. You shouldn't have come here, every fiber of your being knew that, but somehow any remaining bit of sense you'd had was long gone.

A shaky breath, as rattled as your nerves, left your lips as you waited to see if he was home. After a few moments of pained silence you'd decided that he likely wasn't home and it would be a good time to run away to your apartment and tend to yourself. This was silly after all; why did you attempt to seek solace in Javier? Just because he was your partner didn’t mean he could just be someone you would go to; he wasn’t exactly fond of you, reminding you upon your first meeting that you were a poor excuse for a replacement for Steve. He wasn’t going to be able to help you.

Sighing at yourself, you clutched at your stinging side before shuffling your way back to your own apartment. Forcing yourself to glance down to actually check how bad the wound in your side was, you were unpleasantly surprised to see the dark blood seeping into the clean t-shirt had changed into before attempting to go over to Javier. You had to do something to stop the bleeding and get it cleaned up but going into any clinic proved risky in a place where everyone talked and one wrong thing could get you killed. You’d have to hope you had enough survival instinct and sense to keep yourself safe.

Just before you managed to open your door back up, his door opened with a slow creak as he stuck his head out of the door and looked around before meeting your shocked eyes.

“Hey,” he said gruffly as you swallowed the lump in your throat, “did you knock?”

“Yeah, sorry, that was me,” you attempted to give him a half smile in an attempt to avoid any further questioning, “didn’t mean to umm...interrupt - I wasn’t thinking. Sorry.”

“What’s wrong?” it was a gruff short question as a sting of pain coursed through your side

“Nothing,” you lied, averting his eyes as you moved to step back inside, “sorry again.”

“You’re lying,” he insisted as he stepped into the hall and over to you, “what happened?”

“Javi-” but your attempt to stop him, bullheaded as he was and you knew he was, he walked all the way over to you, arms across his chest as you refused to meet his eyes and tilted your body away from him. Unsure of how to avoid the situation and to get him to go away without arousing even more suspicion, you sighed lightly, “it’s nothing, I-”

Before the lie could even spill past your lips, Javier’s fingers wrapped around your wrist as he gently pulled your frame towards his. He inhaled sharply as he quickly took in the sight of your blood soaked shirt; you winced with worry, ready to be reprimanded by him for getting stuck enough to let something like this happen to you.

“You’re hurt,” it was a simple statement as tears pricked at the back of your eyes, and you found yourself at a loss for words. His grip became more gentle as his brow furrowed, “fuck. Who did this to you?”

You found yourself unable to form any words and instead allowed yourself to meet his eyes, ready to find fire and anger in them. Instead you found...worry and fear, two things you absolutely hadn’t been expecting. Unable to hold his gaze, you looked at your feet and willed him to go away.

“Hey, look at me. Look at me,” he brought his free hand under your chin and gently turned your face up towards his, “who did this to you?”

“I dunno,” you admitted meekly, “it all happened so fast. I didn’t see the person, just felt it and then looked and it happened.”

“Where were you? How did you get home?” he quickly weighed his options on how to best help you, but knew that ultimately he had to take care of you himself.

“I don’t know,” you almost cried, worried about the injury and the fog surrounding the past...hour, two? since you it had happened, “its all foggy and confusing.”

“You’ve lost a lot of blood,” he hissed through gritted teeth, “fuck, dulzura. Come with me - I’ll take care of you.”

“It’s okay,” you were half ready to hobble back into your apartment, to do a makeshift patch-up job on yourself, “you don’t have to help...I know you don’t like me that much.”

“You think I don’t...no. You’re not going anywhere,” his grip on your wrist was firm but gentle as he pulled you in the direction of his apartment, “you’re not in any position to take care of yourself.”

“Javier,” he wasn’t having it in the slightest as he pulled you down the hall with him and back into his apartment. If you’d been in any mental state other than the current one, you’d have looked around and tried to see if the place suited what you’d known him to be.

“As much as I love that smart mouth of yours, for once I need to keep quiet and still and let me take care of you, okay?” he shut the door behind him and saw you ready to curl up on his couch, “not yet. Into the bathroom so I can assess the damage.”

You didn’t have enough energy to argue with him, so you took his outstretched hand and let him take you down to the small hallway. The almost fluorescent lighting was blinding as you sat at the edge of the tub and watched as Javier opened the medicine and cabinet and pulled out a sewing kit, some alcohol and clean gauze. It appeared he was more than ready for his type of situation; it made your heart tinge to think that he had likely been in this position before and probably had to take care of himself.

“I’d help you,” your lips felt dry and cracked, throat parched as you looked at him with a pathetic little expression on your face. If he hadn’t been so concerned, he’d probably have laughed, but now was not the time. Instead, he raised an eyebrow, confused by your statement, “if you got hurt. I’d help you - I want to help.”

“With those butter fingers? I don’t think so,” he teased, reaching for your shirt, making sure it was okay to lift it up before doing so. Offering him a timid nod, you watched as pushed up the wet fabric, his features remaining emotionless as he tried to not let his true emotions show, “I’m going to clean it, stitch it up, and then get it wrapped okay?”

“Is it bad?” you almost whimpered as the warm air seemed to sting the entire area. He was silent for a few moments before shaking his head and reaching for the alcohol and clean rag.

“I’ve seen worse,” he deflected the question as you sat there, still as a mouse, “it’ll be okay - are you sure you don’t want to go to the clinic? I’m assuming not...do you trust me?”

“Yes,” you breathed as you watched him sterilize the needle after fishing the lighter out of his pocket, “I trust you, Javi.”

“Good,” he grimaced slightly, “because this is going to hurt. I’ll try to be as careful as possible, okay?”

“Okay.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

When you woke up, your head was pounding and you felt more parched than you ever had before. Confused as to your current surroundings, you sat up in a hurry, immediately regretting everything as soon as you felt the pain searing in your side.

“Shit, shit, shit,” you hissed as you threw back the blanket and pulled up your shirt. Instead of the open, angry wound you remembered from earlier, you now saw a pristine bandage. Oh. So the whole coming to Javier and him finding you in the hallway and bringing you back to his apartment hadn’t been a wild fever dream. Pausing to look around the room, you came to the conclusion that you were in Javier’s bedroom.

It was surprisingly...tranquil. Sparsely decorated but still very him - it moment felt almost too intimate and you wondered if you should thank him for the help and go back to your own apartment. Before you could do anything else, you heard his telltale footsteps in the hall followed by a soft knock on the door.

“Hey,” he gently pushed open the door once you made a small sound for him to come in, “you’re awake...that’s...that’s good. How are you feeling?”

“Like absolute shit,” you confessed as you rubbed at your temples, “thank you, Javi. For taking care of me...I didn’t expect you to and wouldn’t have blamed you if you’d just left me to fend for myself.”

“I would never do that,” he sat at the edge of the bed, letting the mattress dip slightly as he watched you intently. Almost as if he wasn’t quite sure of whether or not he wanted to hear you say it, he whispered, “I'll always take care of you."

A silence, neither uncomfortable or totally calming, fell over the two of you as you found yourself unable to look away from his eyes. Words caught in your throat as your face heated up and you just offered a simple nod.

"For what it's worth, I really appreciate it...you," once you were able to find the words, you awkwardly shuffled to move out of the bed, "I guess I should get going."

"No," he insisted, a strong hand found your leg as he attempted to keep you rooted in place. You froze immediately at the feeling of his touch, "you're staying here. You need to rest."

“I can get it from here,” you insisted, ready to move again but the look in his eyes was enough to get you to stop and oblige him, “okay.”

“What happened?” his whole demeanor shifted as his expression softened, watching as you leaned back against the pillow, “you were a mess last night. Do you remember anything?”

“Vaguely,” you admitted, “what I remember most is coming back and you helping me. I guess that counts. The rest...it’s a bit of a blur still.”

“What were you doing that put you in the position of getting stabbed?” his voice was low and you could easily tell that he was trying to hold back his anger - not at you, “this wasn’t some sort of accident, so don’t even try that one.”

“I..” you paused, gnawing on your lip before sighing and deciding it was better to tell him the truth now and not later, “I was tailing some people who I thought might have some intel that we could use - I followed them to a club...the rest is pretty easy to figure out from there. They figured out that something was wrong and got to me before I could get away. The rest is foggy though...I don’t even remember how I really made it back.”

“Jesus...fuck,” he pinched the bridge of his nose before exhaling sharply, “what possessed you to do that on your own and not mention this to me, your partner, or anyone else?”

“I just…” you paused before shrugging lightly, “I wanted to prove myself...that I could do this on my own. Sometimes it feels like you don’t think I can handle myself or that you don’t think I’m good enough…”

“I’m trying to protect you!” it was a statement, more of surprise than anything else, as he appeared just as shocked as you that he actually said those words out loud. He inhaled deeply before sitting back and shaking his head, “I know you are more than capable but I’m trying to keep you safe. If that means me taking more of the brunt that’s fine. Obviously you’re smart and can handle yourself - besides this little incident - they wouldn’t have sent you down here if you weren’t.”

“Y-you don’t hate me?” your voice trembled as you looked at him timidly, “it just seemed like...I don’t know. I like to expect the worst I guess.”

“Yeah,” he laughed dryly, “I can see that.”

“Javier,” you let his name linger between the two of you, testing it out to see how it tasted on your tongue after what he had just said. You liked it, “I...thank you.”

“Just stay here and go back to sleep for a while,” he pointed at your side, “try to move as little as possible so it has a chance to heal. I’ll go make you something to eat. Yes?”

“Yes,” you agreed with a soft half smile. He nodded before slowly moving to stand up and head to the kitchen. Feeling emboldened by what had just transpired, you stopped him, “Javi?”

“Hmm?”

“I like your bed,” you grinned sheepishly, “it seems like you - good.”

He felt something odd shoot down his spine as he turned to watch you with curious eyes. Unable to stop himself he walked back over to you, and slowly - almost too slowly - leaned down and kissed the top of your head.

“We’re not finished by the way,” he pointed between the two of you, “I want the full details later, but for now just rest.”

“Thank you, Javier.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Pedro Character Taglist (strikethrough means I couldn’t tag you - please check your settings. Strikethroughs will get removed if not taggable)

@qhbr2013 @greeneyedblondie44 @dodgerandevans @cannedsoupsucks @april-showers-and-flowers @klaine-92 @softboiipascal @rpcvliz @im-an-adult-ish @dobbyjen @thevoiceinyourheadx @niki-xie @jediknight122 @xxlovingfandomsxx @mrpascals @startrekkingaroundasgard @welcometothepedroverse @ilikemymendarkandfictional @actual-spawn-of-satan @wanderlust69 @lazybeeches @beskarboobs @someday-when-you-leave-me @leaiorganas @salome-c @rosiefridayrogersunday @madslorian @artsymaddie @haildoodles @windfallss @spookispunk @nikkixostan @edencherries @stillshelbs @djarinbarnes @alyispunk @ayamenimthiriel @gallowsjoker @its–fandom–darling @star017 @amneris21 @empress-palpat1ne @cable-kenobi @gooddaykate @princeofdorne @natthebattygeologist @riddikulus-obsessions @sleep-tight1 @mamacitapascal @14mcmd1122 @leaiorganas @hoodedbirdie @kenzieam @dobbyjen @jedi-mando @milkxxkookies @lazybeeches @general-latino @jediknight122 @cosmoschick @recklessworry @jaime1110 @thorins-queen-of-erebor @thatnerdwriter @pascalisthepunkest @rosie-posie08 @thevoiceinyourheadx @mrlokis @bestintheparsec

#javier pena x reader

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andysficrecs · 3 years

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This was just so lovely. I know there is a better word, a more evocative word that fits the ups and downs, the emotion and the heat... But there’s heart to it that just has me stuck on ‘so lovely’, in it’s purest form.

I adored this wow.

You Shouldn't

Pairing: Santiago Garcia x Reader Rating: Explicit - 18+ Only, minors do not interact. I will block you. Length: 3.2K Warnings: Cursing; angst; fluff; sexual content - oral (male and female receiving), vaginal sex, phone sex

Notes: Set before the movie and after. Not beta-read, really, when is it. These are the thots that inspired this meme:

Summary: Santiago kisses like he’s drowning, like he’s fighting a losing battle. Maybe he is; the man hadn’t told you much about himself. Small talk over the drink you gave him has been how long he’ll be in the states, the fact that he’s leaving for work.

You shouldn’t entertain him.

You saw it all go down. Santiago Garcia only turns to you after striking out miserably with your friend. She shrugs him off, reaches for her phone, waits for the bartender to come back around. She’s got someone waiting for her at home.

So he turns. He puts on a smile, asks, “You taken, too?”

You shouldn’t entertain him.

But you’re so curious. He’s attractive, seems well-spoken. What’s making him so…Desperate? What is it that this man is holding that he’s so desperate to let go, to lose in another person?

You see your friend give you a warning look over his shoulder, but you don’t need it. You know that you shouldn’t entertain him.

Keep reading

#santiago garcia x reader

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andysficrecs · 3 years

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WELL. I’M HAVING A LOT OF EMOTIONS RIGHT NOW. APPARENTLY I NEED A DEMON!JACK DANIELS IN MY LIFE. FUCK. THIS WAS SUPER GOOD, AND I’M AGGRESSIVELY SENDING YOU LOADS OF LOVE

I wish I could credit that gif, but it was too perfect in its demonic state to try and find an alternative

The afterlife

Summary: You accidentally end up summoning Demon Jack Whiskey Daniels to get out of a bad date. He isn't taking the payment you might have expected.

Pairing: Demon!Jack Whiskey Daniels x fem!Reader

Wordcount: 2.9k

Rating: E

Warnings: fluff, angst, feelings (so many feelings), creepy Jack (he is a Demon after all), smut (unprotected sex), implied pregnancy, alcohol mention

A/N: look, Demon Jack came out way sassier and softer than I intended. This does not have a happy end. There's latin and French in there, both languages I don't speak, so if there's any mistake, I'd be happy if you point them out lol

Your first post pandemic date wasn’t supposed to be that big of a failure. Brian’s online profile looked great. 35. Good looking, but not in this I’m throwing it in your face kinda way. Has a dog called Bernie. Works for the city.

What he didn’t include in his profile was that he was the most boring person you would ever meet.

You had only moved to the city earlier that year after getting a new job. You didn’t know many people except for your colleagues. You had spent most of the time decorating your new apartment. Trying to find out the best take out place (it was the Thai place across your workplace). Signing up for a gym and only going there twice before you forgot about it.

Brain was perfect in writing. He was charming, intelligent, funny. But… Apparently only in text. Maybe he was nervous? You nodded at him with an encouraging smile as he told you about how his mother had called him off work because she couldn’t figure out how to install her new TV.

“So I got home earlier and helped her. No wonder it didn’t work for her. She had set the TV in Korean,” he laughed and you fake laughed with him.

“Sounds like you spend a lot of time with your mother.”

“Oh yeah. She’s living with me,” he shrugged, taking another bite of his salmon.

“Okay…” you couldn’t stop yourself and he looked at you.

“Oh it’s not how it sounds. I’m renovating our old house and she hasn’t found anything new yet.”

“Oh okay. I understand,” you nodded, internally screaming.

“Can I get you something?” the waiter approached and you nodded.

“Whiskey on the rocks,” you said and saw Brian frown.

“Anything in particular?”

“Statesman if you have it?”

“Sure thing, Sir?”

“Nothing for me.”

You watched the waiter leave, hoping he would hurry up. You really needed the drink to survive this date.

“You drink?” Brain asked.

“Occasionally.”

“Good to know,” he mumbled and continued to eat. Yeah. You should get out of here.

“If you’ll excuse me…” Brian said and got up from his seat. You smiled and nodded after him, groaning when he was out of sight. The waiter appeared and set a glass of whiskey down in front of you.

You picked the glass up, snorting to yourself as you read the writte golden lines on the glass out loud.

"Faber est suae quisque fortunae." Every man is the artisan of his own fortune. Or woman. You shook your head before you brought your glass to your lips, took a big sip of the whiskey, enjoying the burn down your throat as you closed your eyes and tried to think of a way to get out of this disaster of a date. When you opened your eyes you saw a man sitting across from you that definitely hadn’t been there before. He looked out of space. Like a modern cowboy with his mustache and hat. Dark eyes found yours before a smile spread to his lips.

“Well Sugar it certainly has been some time since I’ve been summoned like that,” he winked and you frowned. Looking over your shoulder to see who he was talking to.

“Whatcha looking for I’m talking to you, Sweetheart,” he said when you looked at him again.

“Uhm. Not to be rude cowboy, but who are you?”

He gave you a million dollar smile, his hand coming towards you over the table.

“Jack Daniels, Demon, nice to meet you,” he winked.

You blinked at him, trying to decide what was more confusing. His name or that he introduced himself as a demon?

“Demon?” you asked, taking his hand to shake it but he didn’t let go, bending down to kiss the back of your hand and you flushed.

“Sure. You summoned me,” he said, giving you another wink, releasing your hand.

“I.. What?”

“1999 Statesman whiskey and the catchphrase and here I am. So what can I do for you?” he leaned back, looking at you expectedly as you tried to make sense of the words coming out of his mouth. You saw the waiter, vaguely pointing to your empty glass and he just nodded.

“You want me to believe you’re a demon?” you said.

“Sure thing. Need proof?” he asks and you nodded.

“You just moved here this year after having an awful job at a restaurant to pay for college. You prefer spending time alone instead of with people and you only haven’t walked out on that awful date because even though you know Brian, who’s almost back by the way, and you won’t end up together, you still have hopes to maybe get laid tonight.”

“That proves nothing but that you might be a weird old man or stalker,” you said.

“Okay. First of all, rude. Second of all look into my eyes,” he said and you did just when his eyes turned completely black for a second, all white gone and you gasped. Shrinking back from him and blinking your eyes and his were back to normal. The waiter came and filled your glass and you just motioned for him to leave the bottle.

“So…” you took a sip, “let’s say I believe you. What am I supposed to do?”

“Ask for whatever you want and you shall receive it.”

“Sure. And I should just give you my soul in return or what?” you snorted.

“Nah. Got enough of those.”

“So what do you want?” you asked.

“Maybe I just wanna save a woman in need?”

“Need for what?”

“That’s for you to decide,” he winked.

“But you better decide quickly, cause your date is coming back.”

You just looked at him, still not sure about what the fuck was happening but you just shrugged and he grinned.

“Uhm excuse me, I was sitting there,” Brian stopped next to your table.

Jack looked up at him, looking him over before he looked at you. You just gave him a small nod.

“Really? You are cheating on me with him?” He gave Brian a disgusted look and you were too shocked to answer.

“Cheating? Look man I didn’t know…” Brian held his hands up and you looked at Jack with big eyes.

“Cheating?” you pressed out and Jack just huffed.

“Really Sugar. Is old Jack not enough for you?” Jack notioned with his head towards Brian who was looking at you.

“Sorry... Babe?” you said, trying to look guilty.

“Unbelievable,” Brain muttered and left on his heels to walk out of the restaurant. You looked after him before your eyes landed on the cowboy demon in front of you.

“You know I could have handled that on my own, right?”

“Oh I know, but now you owe me,” Jack grinned, before a glass magically appeared in his hand, that he filled with the whiskey you had ordered.

“I thought you just wanted to help a woman in need?”

“And I did.”

“I didn’t ask you for it.”

“You did nod though, which technically is enough for a contract with a Demon, but that’s not really the point. I’m a Demon not a lawyer.”

You groaned, massaging your temples, feeling the beginning of a headache.

“Well…” you emptied your glass and got up from your chair, grabbing your purse.

“I’m too tired for this and frankly I’m not sure if I believe all of...” you gestured towards him “of this. So I’m going home.” You looked at him, his eyes already on you. You felt a shiver run down your spine, but it wasn’t fear.

“Okay. I’ll bring breakfast tomorrow,” he shrugged and you rolled your eyes.

“I like french croissants,” you said over your shoulder as you walked towards the door.

“I know,” he called after you and you shook your head.

The thought of potentially having made a deal with a demon you weren’t even aware of, made it difficult to fall asleep for you. At least that’s what you told yourself. It wasn’t the way you got lost in his eyes. How his eyes never left yours, even when he was talking to Brian. Never in your life had a man given you this much attention and you only spent 5 minutes with him.

What could he want from you? He said he didn’t want your soul. What were you ready to give him? Deep down you already knew you were ready to give him anything he wanted.

“Pathetic,” you grumbled to yourself as you turned on your bed so you were facing the window.

The smell of coffee woke you up slowly. You smiled to yourself, stretching your limbs, before you turned back to your side and blinked your eyes open.

“You look awfully pretty when you sleep, doll,” Jack whispered. He was lying fully clothed next to you on your bed, his hat missing. He had taken his jacket off but safe from that he was still wearing the same outfit as yesterday. And you should be afraid to find a stranger in your bed fully clothed, while you were wearing only an old college shirt. A stranger you definitely didn’t let into your apartment. Instead you felt a weird calmness as you looked at him.

“Do I even want to know how you got in here?” you asked, and Jack smiled.

“I can get anywhere I want in the blink of an eye. Comes with the whole being a Demon thing.”

“So if I told you I want a petit déjeuner formule from the little bakery near Montmartre in Paris I have been to a couple years ago…”

“Give me five minutes,” he winked and was gone in the next moment. You let your head fall back onto your pillow, before you got out of bed and got to your bathroom. You quickly washed your face before you went into your kitchen where for some reason coffee was freshly brewed. You didn’t question it before you filled your favorite mug and took a big sip. Walking back to your bedroom you stopped at the door when you found Jack back in your bed with three plates filled with croissants and all kinds of stuff.

“There’s a time difference from 6 hours to Paris,” you said suspiciously and he looked up.

“I can eat all of those by myself,” he just said.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” you said and joined him in your bed.

“Okay so you are a Demon,” it was an hour later and you were in a french patisserie coma.

“Yes.”

“Why?” you turned your head to look at him.

“Made a deal with a Demon before I died so I could still take care of my family. But that was a long time ago,” he said.

“How long?”

“300 years? I think. Might be a bit more.”

“Okay. So you’re a 300 year old Demon who I accidentally summoned and now what?”

“Now we get to know each other.”

“Why?”

“Do you need an answer for every question?” he furrowed his brows.

“Imagine you accidentally summoned a Demon, wouldn’t you want to know what exactly that entails?”

“Valid point there. Okay. I told you, I don’t want your soul. I might have played a little role in you accidentally summoning me. Frankly, I’m tired. And I think you’re very beautiful and if I can make you fall in love with me, I could finally rest.”

“You have that all figured out huh,” you snorted, shaking your head.

“I do,” he shrugged.

“That doesn’t sound like a good deal for me? What exactly happens to you if…” you struggled to finish that sentence.

“If you fall in love with me?” he grinned and you slapped his shoulder.

“Focus here, Cowboy. Doesn’t it sound a little unfair that you’d finally get to rest while I, if I fall in love with you, get to mourn over you?”

“I didn’t say it was a good plan.”

You rolled your eyes.

“I’ve been watching you for a while, sweetheart,” he began.

You snorted, “Stalker,” under your breath.

“And I think you’d benefit from falling in love with me. I’m pretty damn awesome.”

“And totally not full of yourself.”

“Comes with the territory. Look. I wouldn’t ask you for this if I didn’t think you could take it.”

“What? Falling in love with you?”

“Letting me go,” he said and reached over, his fingertips brushing over your cheek. You were drawn in by his eyes again.

“I can’t,” you whispered. You saw his face fall for a second before his smile was back.

“That’s okay. I can wait. What are a couple of years more?” he joked.

“Jack....”

“It’s okay, sweetheart. It’s a lot to ask for.”

“Yeah. Even more so when you’ve never been in love before.”

His face softened at your words.

“I’ll just stay your friendly patisserie Demon then,” he winked and you chuckled.

There was a loophole.

Years went by since meeting Jack. He was in and out of your life, making time to see you in between his busy Demon schedule. Everytime he asked you if you were in love with him yet, you answered with a shake of your head and a clear no. You said no when he asked you after he waited for you in your apartment with dinner after a shit day at work. You said no after he asked you when he first kissed you. You said no after he asked, when the two of you had sex for the first time. You always said no. And he never questioned it, always answering you with a soft kiss, before he had to disappear again.

He wasn’t stupid though. He knew you were in love with him. Who spends 10 years with someone, without loving them? And you could feel it. You felt that it was time. Time to let go.

“I know what you’re doing,” he whispered against your neck that one night. He was slowly fucking into you from behind, his arms around your body as he spooned you from behind. You tilted your head as his lips sucked on your neck.

“It’s been ten years and you won’t say it,” his hand dipped between your legs, touching your pussy where he thrusted into you before he began to roll your clit between his fingers.

“You won’t say that you love me, because you don’t want me to leave,” he whispered against your ear and you shuddered.

“Jack please....” you whimpered,

“I do love you,” he sucked on your earlobe, his thrusts getting deeper and faster. You felt a tear running down your cheek

“And I will never be able to give you what you deserve, sweetheart.”

You came with a silent cry of his name and he fucked you through your orgasm.

“Shit I’m gonna cum,” he groaned before you felt his release inside of you, tears blurring your vision. You felt his breath in your neck, before his arms pulled you even closer, his lips kissing your shoulder.

“I just want you to be happy sweetheart. I want you to have the family you dream of. I want you to grow old with someone you love. I can’t give you that.”

You swallowed before you turned in his arms and kissed him.

“I know,” you whispered against his lips. He smiled.

“I told you you would fall in love with me,” he said and you felt a new wave of tears as you looked at him.

“You should have stayed my friendly patisserie Demon, Jack,” you whispered and he sighed.

“Yeah.”

“I’m gonna miss you,” you whispered and he kissed you again.

“I’ll find you in the afterlife,” he promised and you snorted.

“This is your afterlife you idiot.”

“Well I find you in the after afterlife. I’ll wait for you.”

You let your hands run through his hair, taking a mental picture of him, trying to remember every detail, before you kissed him. You closed your eyes as you leaned your forehead against his.

“I love you Jack Whiskey.”

It wasn’t easy to find the grave of someone who died over 400 years ago. It took you almost five months and some very strange phone calls before you found yourself in a graveyard in the middle of Texas.

There he was, Jack Whiskey, 1676-1718. It was one of the oldest graveyards in the states, of course he would be here.

“You told me, you could never give me what I wanted,” you said as you looked at the old stone, feeling silly for some reason as you talked to it.

“And I know letting you go was the right decision. You deserved to rest, Jack,” you brushed the tears from your cheek.

“But I wasn’t prepared for how much it would hurt to let you go,” you whispered.

“I hope I’ll see you again. In your after afterlife,” you smiled.

“And I hope that wherever you are, you get the chance to see our daughter grow up,” you rested your hands on your belly.

“I love you, Jack,” you whispered, touching the grave stone, before you turned around and walked away. And you didn’t know if you imagined it, but just before you opened the door to your car you felt like you heard Jack whispering “I love you too” as the wind made the fabric of your dress sway around your ankles.

#jack daniels x reader

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andysficrecs · 3 years

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~clears throat~

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

JEY ARE YOU KIDDING ME HERE?! YOU JUST OUT FOR ME OR SOMETHING? TRYING TO KILL ME? BECAUSE IT’S WORKING

I- JEEZ- FUCK- I don’t want pizza. I don’t want pizza. I know this because it’s him I want with the pizza

Kinktober Day 29: Food Play

Period Sex || Gender swap || food play

Clint Barton x afab!reader

Word count: 1k

Warnings: smut, established relationship, playful sex

Notes: This proally isn’t the first thing to come to mind when you think of food play, but it felt too perfect with Clint. And I’ve missed writing him to much too! Kinktober list provided by @the-purity-pen! Feel free to also follow my update blog and turn on post notifs to stay up to date @flightlessangelwings-updates

Pizza night with Clint was definitely the best night of the week. It was the one time when you both could relax and forget about the turmoil of the world for a little while. Even though he was so busy as an avenger, Clint always made sure to see you as often as he could. And you always got his favorite pizza hot and ready for him in return. The two of you dug in and cheered with your beers as you enjoyed the food and the company.

“Keeping the world safe out there, Barton?” you teased.

He gave you a crooked smile that made your heart skip a beat, “You know it.”

Keep reading

#clint barton x reader

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andysficrecs · 3 years

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Ok but like... this is super cute... and I love it??? I got nothing else to add, my brain is filled with squishy fluff

Frankie’s Barber Shop

Summary: After his time in service, Frankie relies on routine–but you arrive to shake things up.

Pairing: Frankie Morales x F!Reader (no Y/N)

Rating: PG (minor language and suggestive thoughts)

Tags: FLUFF, reader washes/cuts Frankie’s hair and beard, meet-cute, Frankie is an anxious boi but he’s trying, this is pure tooth rotting fluff and an ode to Frankie’s hair

Notes: Every day when I drive from work I pass ‘Frankie’s Barber Shop’ and wish it was Frankie Morales’ (but we all know he’d call his like, 'Catfish Cuts’ or something)

I picture Frankie a bit younger here, done with the military but before the events of TF!

For my non-US readers, Great Clips is a chain of discount hairdressers!

Frankie Morales is a simple man; a man of routine. He puts his shoes on right-then-left, even when it means he has to teeter precariously on his bad knee. He brushes his teeth for exactly 2 minutes, as timed on the toothbrush. He wears the same grey t-shirt and jeans combo that has followed him since high school. So when he left Great Clips with a particularly bad $7.99 haircut, buzzed uneven and patchy to the point that the guys ribbed him for it for weeks, he dreadfully set to Google to find a new place.

Keep reading

#frankie morales x reader

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andysficrecs · 3 years

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That second last line KILLED me. I’m REdead, double dead, idk what to say.

Normally I can’t stand anything enemies to lovers or hate sex or just about anything antagonising in relationships between characters but this- this is incredible

To Follow Orders

Fandom: Star Wars

Pairing: Older!Poe Dameron x F!Reader

Summary: After you and Poe unintentionally fuck, there's still tension between you. You still like to be a thorn in his side and he still likes to be a dick.

A/N: no smut in this one, but probably the next one.

A Seasoned Fighter

You were going on a field mission! Sorta. You weren't even done with your training yet, but you were asked to be the comms officer for the mission. You were to be the eyes in the sky while the rest of the team worked on the ground. Sure, you wish you were down there with them, but baby steps, you supposed.

_____________

Poe could see how excited you were when you were called to work the mission. Yes, he was the one that picked you for the mission, but only as the comms officer, nothing more. But he could see the twinkle in your eye, the excitement of something new. You were always at the base, never going on missions. Now you were. He hated how excited you looked. Sure, this was an in and out intel retrieval, but something could always go wrong.

After the briefing ended, he headed straight to you. He didn't say a word, just wrapped his hand around your arm and dragged you away.

You stumbled after him, "What the-let go of me!" you yanked your arm out of his hold and glared at him, "What the fuck is your problem?!"

He scowled, "I'm reminding you that you're doing this mission as comms. You're not going onto the round."

"I know," you pouted a little, crossing your arms over your chest, "Is that it, General?"

"No, don't pull any heroics. Listen to your commanding officer-"

You snorted, "That's rich coming from you, Mister 'I Pulled A Mutiny And God Demoted'!"

Poe grabbed hold of the lapels of your jacket, "And that mutiny caused lives. So don't pull any heroics shit, you hear me?"

You pushed him away, straightening your jacket, "Fine." With that, you turned on your heel to meet with the team you'd be working with.

__________________

"It was a trap!" you hear Lieutenant Raycar yell into your headset, "Mox and Llewyn are down! I don't know the locations of Vers or Mavs!"

You hear the distress and fear in his voice. You look back at the two other members that stayed with you on the ship. They looked scared and confused.

You know what Poe said, his gruff, irritating voice in your head, "Don't pull any heroics." But fuck it and fuck him!

"You two stay here!" you throw off your headset and pull a blaster from the ammunitions wall of the cargo ship.

"But-"

"If we're not back in twenty minutes, you guys leave, okay? You know how to pilot this ship?" One of them nods, "Good. I'll try to keep in contact," you tap onto your own comm and then head out of the ship.

You run past the trees, heading towards the village where your team was supposed to get the intel from. As you near, you hear blasters firing. You stealthily move between the trees, getting closer and closer to the edge of the village.

"Kriff," you murmur, seeing how many militia members were running about. You used your unknown position to your advantage, firing at anyone near by.

After every shot or two, you'd move to another spot behind the trees. You continue to fire away, until some of the militia members notice that their own are down.

"Lieutenant Raycar, are you there?!" you pant into your comm as you run.

"I'm here!"

"I'm providing a distraction! Where are the others?!"

"Mox is gone. I have Llewyn and Vers. Mavs...I don't know."

"I'm here!" Mavs calls into their comm, "I'm holding them off! You guys head back to the ship! Don't wait for me!"

"Mavs, are you sure?!" Raycar asks, sounding like he's already on the move.

"Yes!"

"Y/N?"

"I'll stay behind to help Mavs as much as possible! You go with the rest!"

"Okay! We're going!"

You continue your shoot out with the militia until you see Raycar, Vers, and Llewyn. There's milita got on their tail and you just throw yourself at them. You use the little knowledge of combat that you've learned from training so far. Your fists are flying. Surprisingly, you get a few good hits in until they're returned back to you.

You collapse onto your back, clutching your stomach in pain. A foot thwacks your face and your sight is blurry.

You hear shots go off and the men fall at your feet. Mavs, limping towards you, helps you to your feet and you two are trying to move as fast as you can. Your head is throbbing, your nose is bleeding, you think you have a cracked rib or two.

The two of you practically collapse into the ship and you're off.

_________________

Poe's jaw is clenched as he watches the ship land on the tarmac. Medical is rushing as the ramp lowers, helping Mavs and Llewyn onto stretchers. You limp down the ramp, Vers and Raycar holding you up.

Poe marches up to you and you see the fire in his eyes. When he stands before you, he grabs you by your chin and you wince from the pain. He expects your bloody nose.

He lets your chin drop and murmurs, "You disobeyed orders."

You let out a tired chuckle, "I wasn't going to leave them behind. Besides, this is what you wanted, right? For me to gain experience?"

He sighs and nods to Raycar and Vers, "I'll take over. We'll debrief in the morning."

The two side eye each other and then to you. You give them a nod, "It's okay. You go on." You watch as the two leave and Poe wraps your arm around his shoulder and he tries to keep you up.

When you get to the medbay, he surprisingly, stays by your side and listens to the med droid that goes over your diagnosis: broken nose, two cracked ribs. You're to stay immobile for a while and you sigh in disappointment.

"Looks like you'll be missing out on training. Guess you should've thought about the consequences of your actions," he retorts.

You let out a shaky deep breath, eyes welling with tears, "I got my team out, except one. We didn't get the intel we wanted, but we're alive. I don't care if I miss out on training. At least it gives me a break from you." you turn your head away from him and he remains there for a moment, staring down at you. You don't see his eyes soften. You don't how he nervously runs his hand through his salt and pepper curls. You don't see how he reaches out for you, but then pulls away.

Without another word, he marches out of the medbay, leaving you alone.

#poe dameron x reader

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andysficrecs · 3 years

Text

Oh. My. God.

I don’t even know how to-

I’m deceased.

A Seasoned Fighter

Fandom: Star Wars

Pairing: Older!Poe Dameron x F!Reader

Summary: Just because the First Order dismantled, doesn’t mean the Resistance has stopped fighting for the freedom of the galaxy. You’re newly recruited and stationed at a base that’s run by the legend himself, General Poe Dameron. Based on this artwork + my shitty edits.

Warning: age gap, Poe's kinda a dick, smut - rough sex, p in v, choking, oral (m receiving), this Poe is suuuuuuper ooc.

A/N: I'M WRITING FOR POE AGAIN! YAY! Also, I might write more if people want. because i do have more ideas for this version of Poe...

Tagging: @darthdameron @abelslittlebunny

You've been with the Resistance for a short time. A little under five years. Despite the end of the First Order, that didn't mean that there weren't still people who wanted to take over the galaxy. The Resistance still remained in tact taking care of those who tried to take the First Order's place, as well as keeping the overall galaxy safe.

In the time you've been with the Resistance, you heard about the legends such as Rey Skywalker, General Finn, and General Poe Dameron. Rey and Finn were off on the other side of the galaxy, training new and upcoming Jedis. General Poe Dameron? Well, he stuck with the Resistance.

You grew up hearing stories about him. He had saved your parents, Resistance fighters as well, and if it wasn't for him, you wouldn't be here. You thought that when you'd meet him, he'd be just as witty and charming like your parents described.

Unfortunately, he was the opposite.

He was harsh, mean, rough, crass. He'd bark orders left and right, running recruits to the ground. You're not exactly sure what happened, but this definitely wasn't the Poe Dameron your parents told you about.

He entered the comms room, looking striking with his thick beard and growing hair. Greys and whites scattered within tresses of black.

"General Dameron!" you approached him, bright eyed, with a smile on your face, "Hi! I'm Y/N and I'd just like to say what an honor it is-"

"Yeah, yeah. Heard it all before," he pushes you to the side and continues on his merry way.

You watch him go and you scoff, murmuring, "Dick," under your breath and heading back to your station.

Now you understood why people say that you should never meet your heroes.

_________________

You were a communications officer, but you wanted to be a field officer. So when you heard that they were looking for more recruits, you jumped at the opportunity. Unfortunately, Poe would be the one overlooking the training and assessments.

You and the rest of the recruits stood in line, trying not to move or even breathe as Poe paced before you.

"You all better be damn worth it, because just looking at you I can already tell I got a lot of work ahead of me." Your jaw clenched as you bit back some retort. He continued, "This is some serious shit. Yeah, the First Order is gone, but you never know when some new organization will take its place. That's why we're still here. To prevent that.

"Now I didn't get to where I am by lazying about. I-

"We get it. You're a seasoned Resistance fighter," you murmured at a level you thought was low enough, but you thought wrong as Poe stopped and turned in your general direction.

"Who said that?"

You gulped and stepped forward, "I did, sir."

He marched over to you, standing before you and glaring right into your eyes, "And why the hell did you think it was necessary to say that?"

"Well frankly, General, if you want us to be the best recruits for the Resistance maybe you should stop going all 'Back in my day' and actually train us."

You watch as his jaw clench and then he hollers, "Everyone, ten laps around the base! If I see any of you slow down, that's another lap added!" Everyone proceeds to scurry and you're ready to leave, but he stops you, "Not you, princess. You stay right fucking there." He watches as all of your fellow recruits leave the tarmac and when you're left alone with him, he gestures for you to follow him off to the side.

Then out of nowhere, he pushes you against the wall and his hand goes to your throat, you feel his grip tighten, but not too tight, "I have seen and done shit you wouldn't believe, princess. This isn't some game. People die and have died for this cause. Are you willing to do the same?"

You then feel his grip tighten and then he releases you allowing you to take large gasps of breath. You look up at him with fire in your eyes and he waves you off.

"Now get out of my sight. Go join the rest of the sad excuse of recruits."

It was from then on, you would make it your mission to be a thorn in General Poe Dameron's side.

_______________

It's been about a week since you started your training. Poe never let up on his harshness towards you or any of the other recruits.

Your entire body was sore and you were dripping with sweat. Many recruits have already dropped out, not wanting to deal with Poe's ways.

During a five minute break that Poe was "generously" giving you, you were talking with your roommate and friend, Kahli.

"Seriously, what the fuck is this guy's problem? I grew up hearing about how compassionate and understanding he was. Now he's such a fucking dick! Stars, it's a shame too 'cause he's hot as hell.

Kahli choked on her water and shook her head disapprovingly at you, "Dunno what happened since the war ended, but yeah. He's a real jerk. Also, I think you need to get laid soon."

"Does he seriously think what he's doing is really gonna help us? I mean look at us! We already lost a third of the group. With the way he's going, there probably won't be much left."

"Have you had your mind invaded by the First Order?" you suddenly tensed when you heard the voice of the Resistance General behind you. You slowly turned around and faced him, he continued, "Have you watch your friends die by the hands of a powerful sith lord?" When you shook your head, he replied, "I think it's in your best interest, princess, to keep your mouth shut if you haven't gone through the shit I have." He looks at you with the glare and clenched jaw you've become familiar with.

You scoff and then give him a smirk while you glare back at him, "Why don't you make me?"

There was another clench of his jaw and he stepped closer to you, sneering, "My office. Now."

He proceeded to march away and you rolled your eyes. Kahli gave you a look of concern and you just shrugged, before following the general.

As soon as you step into his office, you're pinned against the wallsimilar to the first day of your training. Poe's face in front of yours as he sneered, "You really don't know when you quit do you, sweetheart. "

"And you really don't know when to ease up, do you, Captain Dameron?"

Poe roughly grabs your face, "What the fuck did you just call me?"

You don't reply, only give him a dark chuckle and he lets go of you. He nods and demands, "On your knees."

You smirk, "And why should I?"

"So I can fucking shut you up for once," he taunts, already working on loosening his belt.

You can't help but bite your lip as you slide to your knees. Well, Kahli did say you needed to get laid soon. Might as well be with via hate sex with your General.

Poe's already semi-hard when he pulls himself out. He gives himself a few more strokes until he's fully hard, "Open" he orders you and you do as your told. You move to place your hands on his thighs, but he immediately grabs them. He grips your wrist in one hand pinning them to the wall behind you and starts thrusting.

"Ah fuck!" he cries out as he feels the wet warmth of your mouth. You hollow out your cheeks and breathe through your nose to prevent you from gagging. You look up at him and he remembers those same eyes from a year ago. Bright eyes filled with excitement and eagerness.

He has to look away.

"So fucking annoying. Always disobeying me, questioning my authority. Does it get you off, sweetheart, huh? Riling me up? Getting on my nerves? Is that it?"

He grips your hair with his other hand and pulls you off his dick. You gasp for air and you chuckle, "I'm a Rebel, Dameron. That's what I do, I rebel. It's my job."

He lets go of your hair and pulls you to your feet by your wrists, "Is your job to also be a thorn in my side?" he guides you to his desk, making you face away from him, hands on the surface.

You laugh, "No, I also do it just for fun."

He pulls down your training pants and your underwear. He makes you spread your legs a little wider and his fingers slide along your slit. He snorts, "You get wet from sucking my dick, sweetheart?"

"Shut up!" you snarl.

"Really gotta teach you how to respect authority, princess," retorts and then slides his cock inside you.

"Fuck!" you cry out and he chuckles, "Bigger than what you're used to?" you really wish you could punch him right now.

His hands grab your waist and he snaps his hips into you with quick, sharp thrusts. He moans, leaning in, lips hovering over your ears, "Bet those sad excuse of recruits can't fuck you like I do. Just sad little boys who don't know what they're doing."

He thrusts hard in to you and you grumble back at him, "What, and you do?"

"You tell me, sweetheart." he thrusts into you again and you gasp. He's right. Fuck, he's so right, but you're not going to give him that satisfaction.

He continues to fuck you rough and hard, slapping at your eyes, grumbling under his breath how much of a nuisance you are.

"Such a fucking naive little girl. Don't know the sacrifices we've had to make. Think you can just join the Resistance and not do a goddamn thing?"

You don't know what to do, so you just continue to allow yourself to get fucked by the older General. You try to look over your shoulder, but Poe pushes your head down onto his desk.

"No. You don't deserve to watch me fuck you."

You can't help the way your pussy tightens at his words and he chuckles, "You like it when I give you orders, don't you, princess?"

"N-No."

"Your pussy says otherwise." He then completely pulls out of you, causing you to whine, "Tell the truth, sweetheart. Do you like it when I give you orders?"

"Fuck! Okay! Yes! Now put it back in me, dammit!"

He lowly chuckles and grunts, "Good girl," before thrusting back into you. His hand snakes around you and begins circling your clit, causing you to moan louder.

"Think I can only tolerate you when you're moaning for me," he laughs.

You scoff, "Fucking dick."

"Yeah, and it's my fucking dick that's gonna make you cum. I can tell it's soon from the way you're squeezing me."

You're clawing at his desk, caught between not wanting to cum for him but also just desperately needing the release.

"S-Shit, Poe!"

He smacks your ass, "That's General to you, sweetheart."

"G-General, I'm close."

"You gotta ask me."

"What?"

"You gotta ask me if you can cum."

"But-"

"Ask. Me." he thrusts harder for emphasis, nearly bringing you to your climax.

"Please, can I cum?!"

"No."

"What?!"

"Not yet. Just hold it a little bit longer."

"But-"

"Do. As. I. Say." he orders you and you whine, using all your might to keep yourself from cumming.

Poe leans over, his chest, resting against your back, "See? You can be a good girl and obey my orders."

You whimper, hating how he's right and how his words have an effect on you.

"Good girl. Fuck, that's it. Shit, I'm cumming. Cum with me." he pulls out of you and starts pumping his cock while you continue to lay there, fingers working at your clit.

"Shiiiit! Oh stars, yes!" you cry out as you cum, legs shaking a little and you feel some of Poe's cum splattering on your ass.

Once you've both came, there's only the sounds of your and his panting filling the office.

Poe steps back, tucking himself in and pulling his pants up. He grabs a random rag, using it to clean his hand and then tosses it to you.

"Clean up and get out. Tell the rest of the group training's over for the day."

You stand, taking the rag and cleaning yourself off and then tossing it into the trash bin.

You head towards the door, but before you exit, you look over your shoulder, "Just so you know, this doesn't change anything. You're still a dick."

He scoffs, "Whatever," and you exit his office.

He moves around the desk to sit in his chair. He runs a hand through his salt and pepper curls and curses under his breath, "Shit."

#poe dameron x reader

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