#pedrostoriesgift22

[misspearly1]

Ner Cyar'ika Baar'ur

Secret Santa Event by @pedrostories

My giftee: @taro-666

Pairing: Din D'jarin x F!Medic!Reader (use of Y/N).

Summary: Working for the Mandalorian as his personal medic, it has become apart of the daily routine to battle against people who threaten his safety, or yours. You're apart of the chaos that comes with the bounty hunting life, but how does one particular quarry change everything between you and Din D'jarin?

WC: 8k

Warnings: 18+ Content. Minors DNI. Fic is set in season one, between episode one to three. Slight changes in the storyline from the TV show. Cursing. Use of Mando'a (with translations). Friends to Lovers. Mutual Pining. Violence and Injury. Angst with a happy ending. Smut. Mentions of wet dreams. Unprotected PIV. Praise kink. Fluff.

AN: Taro! Omg, I've been so excited to share this story with you and to finally come off anon. Hey friend! 👋 I hope you enjoy the read, my love ❤️.

@supernaturalgirl20 Thank you so much for the beta, beautiful! You're a star 🥰.

There aren’t a lot of things that surprise you these days as a trained medic; you’ve been through a lot and have seen nearly twice as much. Having said that, it’s almost as if you’ve grown used to the mayhem that comes with treating the sick and the wounded because of your line of work.

For instance, it doesn’t surprise you anymore when your boss requires your medical assistance considering he is actually in need of your assistance quite often, and it’s the very reason he hired you in the first place. 

The Mandalorian is your boss, or Mando as he is known to some, and his involvement in the bounty hunting business was never in your interest at first - your a healer, not a fighter - but where there is a fight, there is almost always a need for someone to be patched up afterwards. 

There’s never a dull moment working with the Mandalorian, his daily life is mayhem, more so in the last several weeks since his workload has been busier than usual and seeing that you’ve already adapted to the chaos around treating the sick and wounded, especially on war-torn planets, you quickly adopted his chaotic lifestyle as well.

There wasn’t much difference truthfully, only that you were treating one patient instead of several a day, and rather than coming to you for medical treatment, Mando offered you to move into his ship as an alternative. You didn’t oppose the idea and accepted his offer, not only because the pay is better, but the company is welcome too.

As well as this, you didn’t mind moving into Mando’s ship because he used to visit you regularly for medical attention back on Nevarro. That's where The Bounty Hunter’s Guild is situated, it’s their home base, and although you only stayed in the city for seven months, you didn’t particularly enjoy your time on the volcanic planet. It’s a world of black sand, rocky terrain, and rivers flowing with lava instead of water.  

While it was beautiful to gaze upon at night, it was also deadly as the Reptavion's used the darkness to their advantage, hunting anything it could carry before taking flight. Nevarro provided work opportunities and credits, but it wasn’t a place to call home.

However, the volcanic planet is where you met Mando for the very first time. During the months you were staying in the city, you were working in a small medical clinic, and there were plenty more suitable facilities for the man to visit, but he chose your place of work instead.

At first, you assumed it was for discretion as the clinic's unspoken rule was ‘ask no question, hear no lies’, but sometimes he would come to see you with minor injuries that could be treated by his own hands, thus leading you to believe that he was interested in more than just your help. Besides, you enjoyed the man's company when he would come to visit you. He wasn’t much of a talker back then, but as time passed, he gradually opened up.

Moving into the man's ship brought you closer to each other. You became his partner more than his employee, and you love your job because it simply doesn’t feel like a job. It feels like you're working with a trusted friend, sharing the riches and helping each other out.

Whether or not he was actually in need of your service back on Nevarro doesn’t matter. What matters is that he saw an opportunity with your skills and presented a deal to make your working life better - which it has.

Ever since you moved in with him, your life has become better in so many ways; you now have a place to call home, and you have a friend you can rely on without the niggling doubt of betrayal in the back of your mind. 

Since you were always on the move before, you adopted a cautious nature with everyone regarding every little detail in your life. You never did fully trust people, but you do with Mando. Things are different with him, and one of the many reasons why it's different with him is because you know the man underneath the beskar. 

Many people have heard of Mando. They’ve heard the stories about his reputation in the Bounty Hunters Guild, about how he is the best in the parsec, but his past and identity remain a mystery. Even to you, to some extent, but you’ve heard the stories too, heard ‘warrior’ in the whispers and it’s true. He is a fine warrior, one that fights with grace and loyalty to the cause. His cause; his culture and his religion - the way of Mandalore. 

While many call him Mando, or the Mandalorian in the Guild, you know him as Din D’jarin. You have not yet had the pleasure to see his identity, but hopefully one day you will have that pleasure and the honour. These are just some of the many reasons why you love your job, but to put it simply; it’s because of Din. 

Since there aren’t a lot of things that surprise you anymore in your line of work and partnership with the man, that doesn’t mean there’s nothing that surprises you. Take these last few days for example, it started off with the same regular chaos, but eventually became something you’re not familiar with. 

The loading bay of the Razor Crest is almost packed full of quarries, frozen solid in the carbonite blocks with one more space remaining for the Mythrol. You helped Din as far as your abilities could, and since the tracking fob for the Mythrol led him to a public house on the icy planet, Pagadon, you stayed back on the ship and waited for his return. 

And of course, it came as no shock when Din returned with the Mythrol, thankfully without any injuries, but the blue-skinned man tried to pull a fast one. However, it wasn’t fast enough as the Mandalorian was two steps ahead of the trickery. He always is.

Still, just like the normalities in the bounty hunting life, you made your way back to Nevarro and met with Greef Karga in the cantina to offload the carbonite blocks, receive your payments and gather more tracking fobs leading to more quarries.

The surprise began when the words ‘off the books’ were uttered by Greef himself and from the moment Din took his next job, you had mixed feelings. There was no chain code on the quarry, all you had was their age. Then, Din wouldn’t allow you to accompany him when meeting the client and the very fact he was protective of you in that sense, made you worry about their business. 

In the Guild, it’s common knowledge that you don’t ask questions about the criminals you hunt. You just get the job done and let the proper authorities serve justice, but something was gnawing at your gut. As the day went on and the chaos continued, the doubts slowly began to fade as you settled back into normality. 

The tracking fob led you to a desert planet, Arvala-7, where you met with a kind man named Kuiil working on a moisture farm. It was especially fun watching Din trying to mount the Blurrg and learn to ride them, but you, too, had to learn in order to join his travels to the Nikto Hideout - where the quarry was. 

By the afternoon, you and Din had mastered the art of riding the creatures and you set off to capture the quarry. Just like any other day in the bounty hunting life, there was nothing surprising or out of the ordinary. You worked together like you always do and after leaving you at a safe distance away from the hideout, Din moved forward on his own. 

As battle ensued, you watched from afar and used comms to help the man out. He fought magnificently. More often than not, his skills leave you awestruck. Mesmerized. You prepared yourself and stocked up on the medical supplies before leaving the moisture farm earlier, but remained hopeful that there wasn’t a need for them. 

When the fight was over, the enemy threats were eliminated and Din was unharmed, you made your way to him and entered the hideout together to find the quarry, but when you first laid your eyes on the target, that unsettled feeling returned to your gut. It was an infant baby, a little green baby with big ears and the cutest eyes you’ve ever seen. 

Although you remembered that you don’t ask questions in the Guild about the quarries, you couldn’t help wondering, and worrying, about what the client wants with the child. It couldn’t be anything good if Din didn’t want you present in the meeting with them on Nevarro.

You had many doubts and suspicions, so many that you couldn’t find a single rational explanation as to why a baby had a bounty on its head. Naturally, you asked Din all of the questions you had, but he didn’t have any answers.

Now, as you both make your way back to the Razor Crest with the baby through the mountainous canyons of Arvala-7, you still can’t shake off the nerves around this whole ordeal. Din is many things; a fine warrior in battle, a man of few words, emotionally shielded and well guarded, cold and merciless to those who threaten his safety, or yours, but careless? No, never.

The man isn’t careless. He cares greatly, and deeply, and he, too, knows that something is off about this job. You’ve known Din D’jarin for the last two years and you can sense when the man is nervous. He’s quiet, too quiet, and you don’t like when his mind is on overdrive because if he is worried about this job, then you should be fearful. 

“Alright. What is it?” You finally break the silence to ask, eager to make sense of his sudden edgy state of mind. Halting your walk and turning to face him, you perch both hands to your hips and tilt your head to the side in question, adding emphasis to your desire for answers. 

The baby situated in his floating pod remains close by, right between you and Din as a matter of fact, and he looks up at you both with curiosity. You fight the urge to look at him, to avoid his influence on you as a woman with maternal instincts. The little guy's presence has undoubtedly caused a heavy bout of uncertainty over your heads, a little rift between you and Mando. Not something of the bad kind, but something unfamiliar and foreign. He’s a child, just an innocent baby, so it’s a confusing and an extremely foreign feeling for you both to be transporting him like he’s just another quarry when he isn’t like any other quarry you’ve ever transported before. 

“Din, talk to me,” You shake your head now, frustration evident in your tone, “What is it? What’s got you nervous?” You ask again, although the answer is obvious. It’s because of the baby and all the questions he has for the client, but you want to hear him say it. 

To hear Din himself say that something isn’t right will validate your reasons to be worried, but you were met with silence yet again. The man wasn’t even paying attention to you, he was too focused on the little lizards scurrying across the sand. “Mando.” Stepping forward and calling him the name that everyone else uses, that usually gets his attention, you open your mouth to speak but the words didn’t even make it past your lips as he shoved you back. 

You fell down and watched as he turned swiftly, gun in hand at the ready to shoot, but a blade whacked it out of his grasp, a blade wielded by a Trandoshan. You and Din both lock onto the tracking fob on his hip, the flashing red dot and audible beep familiar, before he then shoves the floating pod away, keeping the baby out of harm's reach. There’s more than one tracking fob, therefore there’s more bounty hunters looking for the child. Bounty Hunters who are careless and don’t ask questions. 

Neither one of you can allow the baby to leave your sight or allow him to fall into the wrong hands, thus causing your legs to act before your mind can think. You quickly rise from the floor and move in to help Din wherever you can. He smites the Trandoshan and they tumble to the floor. Then, he takes the blade from him, before turning around to throw it toward you.

“Stay with the baby.” He orders firmly, and you listen to his instructions. Trusting his fighting skills better than your own, you take a few steps back and give him the space he needs to wield his weapons without hurting you. 

However, another Trandoshan jumps out of cover. “Behind you!” You yell, giving Din a heads up just in time to evade the direction of a blade coming down in his path. The fight continues, and you take a few more steps back to look up, checking the surroundings to ensure there aren’t any more hunters hiding in the shadows. But there was. “Another one, on your left.” You call out. Again just in time as another Trandoshan jumps down from a ledge. 

With one enemy on the floor, but recovering quickly, the odds weren’t in Din’s favour. It wasn’t a fair fight, even though you’re pretty sure he can handle himself, you worry for his safety nonetheless. And although you're not a fighter, you’ll be damned if you don’t try to help even out the odds against him. 

After checking that the baby was safe in his pod, you move toward the closest Trandoshan and raise your weapon. His back was turned, giving you the upper hand to land a blow without deadly consequence. Using the blunt side of the blade, you struck the back of his legs, causing him to stumble forward just at the right time for Din to throw his arms out and punch him in the face, knocking him unconscious as he fell to the floor. 

Now that the odds were evened out, you watched Din’s movements with laser-like focus and only intervened when you saw the right moment. You were sure he could handle himself, and you were right, but the element of surprise was the only advantage the Trandoshans had over him in the beginning. He fought the remaining two easily, eventually leaving all three unconscious and regretful for ever trying to take on a skilled Mandalorian. 

He turns to you, nodding appreciatively. “Good moves there, mesh’la - thank you.” 

“Don’t mention it,” You shake your head, “You did all the heavy lifting. I was just lending a hand.” You mumble with a sheepish grin on your lips. 

“But I know how you don’t like to fight,” He argues gently with a slight chuckle in his modulated voice. “You fought with me. Accept my gratitude, sweet girl.” 

“Ok, ok - you’re welcome, Din.” Your smile deepens with flattery as he stands before you with what you can only describe as pride. It was the way he looked at you; his helmet slightly tilted to the side, displaying the reflection of your own face, and his hands resting on his hips with a puffed out chest. 

Since you can’t see the man's facial expression, all you’re left with his body language and tone of voice to understand how he feels. And right now, you not only feel a sense of pride from him, but a flicker of attraction too. It’s in the air. The chemistry, the spark, it’s surrounding you both, and it’s something you feel quite often, but never have the courage to act on. 

You’re almost certain that the friendship between you and Din means something more, or at least, it’s heading towards something more. But the intimate moments you share with each other, brief moments like this, make you wonder why he doesn’t make a move.

You don’t even have to see the man's face to know that he’s eyeing you up and down. Upon feeling him lean in, something you’ve felt him do many times before, you muster up the courage to lean in as well.

However, the confidence escapes him at the last second and he pulls back, clearing his throat awkwardly. “We should leave now, mesh’la,” He says, breaking the silence and just like that, the moment is over. “ We need to get back on track and complete the job.”

What? You ask yourself as your mouth falls open and your eyes widen, exhibiting your shock and disbelief. After everything that has happened today, especially after a brawl against three Trandoshans, you're shocked that he is still going to hand the baby over to the client. Din picked up on your reaction instantly and straightened his back, as if preparing himself for a dispute. 

“Excuse me?” You scoff, your cheeks burning up again for an entirely different reason now. It wasn’t flattery, or attraction, it was anger. “Din, you can’t be serious. We can’t hand the baby over to the client. Especially now that we know other hunters are after him too-” You walk over to one of the Trandoshans laying on the ground and retrieve their tracking fob before presenting it to him, “-The client gave you the job, but handed out more fobs? It doesn't feel right and you know it.” 

“Cyar’ika, please don’t do this.” He sighs while running his gloved hand over the scruff of his neck, the pleadings in his voice for you to not argue about this falling on deaf ears. You are most certainly going to argue about this with him. You cross your arms and shake your head, like you had already settled the argument without even uttering another word. But, the dispute was nowhere near settled. “Need I remind you of the code in the Guild?” He asks with a bite to his tone of voice, “If you don’t like this job, I’ll finish this one on my own.” 

“On your own?” You laugh humourlessly while waving the tracking fob. “Good luck with that when the whole Guild could have these! What happens if you get hurt? What then?” Biting back with your own set of questions, you watch as the man huffs a short breath and turns away from you, evidently maddened with your bickering.  “Don’t turn away. Answer me -” You give him a second to answer, but grow impatient as you're met with a lengthy silence once again. “- What happens if you get hurt, Mando? You can’t do this alone.” 

Din turns to you now and stands close, his voice raised to a level that hurts. “I was doing just fine on my own two years ago, Y/N.” Turning away again, as if he couldn’t stand another second looking at you or spend any more time arguing, it didn’t matter anyways as you had ultimately lost the dispute. You give him another second, another chance to make things right and take back what he said, but he doesn’t turn around or mutter a single word. 

“Okay then,” You mumble, lowering your head, “Am I just the medic? Is that all I am to you?” You ask, and still, the man doesn’t turn to face you or answer your question. The silence spoke for him and that was all you needed to know before turning around to walk away. You gave him plenty of chances to fix his mistake, but only until your back was turned did he try. 

“Cyar'ika.” He calls out for you, finally coming to his senses, but it wasn’t quick enough as you didn’t respond to him. You made your way towards the baby and the sound of your muffled cries made his head hang low with shame. No matter how quiet you tried to be, your cries were audible to his ears, enhanced by the mechanics in his helmet. 

Although you were quite visibly sad, he watched you put on a fake smile and talk to the baby like nothing was wrong. The warmness of your soul shone through the misery, causing the little guy to beam and babble baby nonsense. It was a sight so beautiful to witness, so beautiful that it was distracting. 

Din can’t allow himself to get too wrapped up in the emotions that the child brings. It’s conflicting, confusing and…  foreign. He’s never felt this way before. Never felt this way before with any woman around a child, but it’s different with you and it clouds his mind, throws him off balance and disrupts his focus so much that he doesn’t pay attention to what’s most important right now. Like the danger lingering in the immediate surroundings. 

“Y/N!” The man calls to you again, his voice was laden with urgency. “Behind you! Y/N - behind you.” Sprinting toward your position while swinging the strap of his amban rifle around his chest, Din takes aim at another Trandoshan and fires, obliterating the reptilian humanoid to a thousand dust particles. 

You fall down, your knees hitting the sandy terrain below as your pained cries penetrate the sound of his beating heart deafening his ears. You took a hit from the Trandoshan, his blade had cut through your clothes and marked your skin before he was blasted into organic matter. 

“Mesh’la.” He choked. Rushing over and kneeling on the ground behind you, he reaches out to hold your arms. The injury you sustained was across your back, diagonally, at least three inches long and almost half an inch deep. A clean cut, but angry red and weeping with blood. “Easy now, sweet girl. You’re bleeding, just take it easy.” He reassures you with a slight tremble in his tone, his worry for your well-being perceivable. 

“The disinfectant,” You hissed in reply whilst shaking your head, “Get the disinfectant. It’s in my satchel, Mando.” Gently removing your satchel over your shoulder, he places the bag onto the floor and opens it up to search through your medical supplies. Supplies that are normally used for him. There’s irony in the fact you became a medic to treat others, not yourself, and the man despises that his involvement in the bounty hunting business has caused you harm. 

And although he is helping to the best of his knowledge, you’re directing him on what to do. “Open the cap and pour a generous amount over the wound.” You explain, then grab his hand on your hip to hold onto for comfort. He begins to ask if you’re sure, but couldn’t even finish his sentence as your sobbing plea cut him off. “Yes-yes! Just get it over with. Please, Din.” 

Listening to your instructions, he held his breath and prepared himself as he began dousing your back with disinfectant. You bawled with agony, your back arching away from him naturally with the instinct to stop the pain, but to his regret, he pulled you towards him and continued to pour. He clenches his jaw as you cry, his fingers almost turning blue from the force of your grip on his hand. “I’m sorry.” He apologizes, to which you don’t accept and stutter in reply. “This isn’t y-your fault.” 

Releasing your hand to place his thumb and forefinger on your chin, he tilts your head to look at him before leaning in. “I’m sorry, Y/N - for this, for yelling at you, for saying that I was doing just fine two years ago and… and you’re not just a medic.”  He rests his helmet against your head and whispers, though his voice breaks with remorse. “You’re so much more than that, mesh’la. You mean so much to me.” 

“Din, I-” You open your mouth to object, but he cuts you off by holding his thumb over your lips while shushing you. “Don’t speak and conserve your energy, we’ll talk about it later. Just let me take care of you first.” He says. 

“No, Din…” You sigh, eyes blinking slowly while slurring your words. “I was going… going to say that I… I can’t keep my eyes… I don't feel good…”  Your body becomes limp as you fall into his arms. Your vision darkens quickly, and the last thing you saw before everything went black was the baby's eyes looking at you as he peaks over the pod.

The next time you awoke, it was a brief moment of consciousness. The familiar sound of Din’s amban rifle could be heard as he fired off multiple rounds and your eyes glimmered open to see his legs, the bandolier of cartridges wrapped around his calf. You saw his gloved hand reaching for ammunition to load into his weapon and worried as to why he needed them. 

“It’s ok. Everything is ok,” he says upon noticing you were awake and were fighting to keep your eyes open. “We’re safe here. Go back to sleep, cyar’ika.” 

Eyes closing once again, you couldn’t keep them open no matter how hard you tried to, and his voice soon faded as you slipped into a deep slumber. The silence took over and, oddly, it felt comforting. Although it only felt like minutes had passed, you knew it must have been longer as your surroundings were different. 

There was no longer a warm breeze, but the cold presence of steel pressing into your side, and beneath you, it felt spongy and soft, thus indicating you were laying on a bed. The unmistakable sound of Kuiil’s voice could be heard in the distance as he makes the baby laugh and you open your eyes to confirm your assumptions on your whereabouts, but are met with locks of brown hair instead. 

It’s Din. He’s the cold presence of steel pressing into your side as he sat on the edge of the bed and it’s his hair that you were currently staring at with wide eyes. His back was turned, but you could still see the back of his head and instantly shut your eyes, fearing that if you spent one more second looking, you wouldn’t be able to turn away. 

“Mando,” You whisper immediately, panicking, then feel him moving around. “Mando, why don’t you have your helmet on? Stars! I could have seen your face.”

You begin to shift your position to turn away from him, but are reminded of the wound on your back. The pain struck you suddenly and harshly, causing Din’s hands to dart out to cover your eyes just in time as you opened them with instinct. He was gentle but quick. “It’s ok, mesh’la. You can’t see, it’s ok.” He reassures you through the strained whimpers slipping past your lips. 

“Where is your helmet?” You ask, getting your teeth. You close your eyes again once the surge of pain passes over and the soothing properties of bacta gel takes over. You can feel the substance on your back, feel the stuff working to heal your injury. “My eyes are closed now. It’s safe but… Shit, Din. I saw your hair.” You say apologetically. 

“It’s fine, sweet girl.” He chuckles softly, the sound making your mouth fall open with shock as you retort. “It’s not funny. I’m not allowed to see you - or your hair! What… W-what happens now?” You ask, to which he laughs again and startles you unintentionally when reaching out to cup your cheek. You weren’t expecting to feel his gloved fingers on your skin, but you quickly leaned into his touch as his gesture brought consolation. 

“Look at me,” He requests, “It's safe to look, I promise.” 

Rolling your eyes behind closed lids, you make a surprised sound when he caresses your cheek with his thumb. Again, you weren’t expecting the comforting gesture, but deeply appreciated it. And whether or not it was the bacta gel or Din easing the discomfort in your back, you chose to believe it was the latter.

A short moment passes before you finally open your eyes and find relief in the T shape of his helmet. Although you would love nothing more than to see his identity, the face of his helmet is what you know, it’s home. Your face softens as you relax into the palm of his hand, but the importance and worry around your question still lingers, thus causing you to ask again. “What happens now? I thought I wasn’t allowed to see you without the helmet, doesn’t that also mean I can’t see your hair?” 

“You didn’t see my face, nor did you remove my helmet, mesh’la,” He shakes his head, his voice soft like honey, “It’s okay and besides-” He turns his head, displaying the brown locks of his hair at the base of his neck, “-You can see my hair with the helmet on.” 

“Oh,” You whisper with intrigue, “Surprised I didn’t notice sooner, but your hair is…” Lifting your hand with a desire to touch his hair, you back out at the last second and retract your arm, but Din felt your movements and quickly assured. “Go ahead. I trust you.” 

You reach out again and caress the base of his neck, your fingertips massaging his scalp which draws out the heaviest sounding exhale you’ve ever heard from him; a sigh of relief, filled with endearment and relaxation. It was a gratifying feeling, seeing and hearing the man lean into your touch without fear of betrayal in this moment of vulnerability. Din is vulnerable at this moment, his guard is down and just the mere thought of removing his helmet sickens you. It never crosses your mind. 

“Your hair is beautiful, Din.” You murmur sweetly, a smile on your lips displaying your satisfaction and joy from something so simple. The action of touching his hair which you’d love to do again, to feel him melt in your arms like soft putty and feel a sense of home from your touch, like you feel a sense of home when looking into the T-shape of his visor. 

You gently squeeze the base of his neck, a way of reassuring him, before pulling your hand back, however, it was apparent that he wanted more as he sharply held your wrist and directed your hand back to his hair. “Please?” He asks in a whispered breath, hopeful and optimistic, desperate. “Keep playing with my hair, ner cyar’ika.” 

You laugh, a mixture of surprise and confusion obvious in your tone. The difference in his pet name for you was confusing, and his request for you to continue playing with his hair was surprising. Though, you granted his request gladly and began playing with his hair. “What does cyar’ika mean anyway?” You ask, tilting your head with interest while wondering what faces he was making under the helmet from your massaging movements. “Is there a difference when you say ner cyar’ika?”

“Yes.” He groans in reply, the sound drawing out another laugh from your lips as your smile deepens. You open your mouth to ask another question, until he turns his head to face you and leans across your body. The pause in his manoeuvre speaks of hesitancy, unsure on whether or not you were comfortable with what was about to do. 

The question you had vanishes from your mind as you nod to the man, nodding with confirmation for him to lay down and rest his head in your arms. The bed in which you lay on didn’t feel small until Mando lay on it with you. Not that you minded anyway, but it really detailed the size and stature of the man, especially the broad expanse of his chest and back. 

He raised both hands to his helmet, and before he could even ask, you closed your eyes with baited breath as he removed it to optimize the comfiest position. The position he chose however, was burying his face between your neck and shoulder. You didn't release the breath you were holding, it was snatched from your lungs.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you thought this day would come, but doubt is what kept it at the back of your mind. You never entertained the idea of laying in bed with Mando too much as it felt like a pipe dream to have the man in your arms like this, and now that you do, it feels better than you ever could have imagined.

The pain in your back is practically non-existent now, almost as if you never even sustained an injury, and that’s because of his presence, his proximity and his comfort. It wasn’t a struggle to keep your eyes closed as you basked in the sensation of him carefully laying his weight over you like this.

Something else you’ve also thought about in the past, but tried not to think about too much, is Din laying over you for an entirely different reason. And perhaps it’s because of the level of intimacy in this position that brings those thoughts back to the surface, or maybe it was the electrifying feeling of his lips pressed against your skin. 

The man wasn’t exactly kissing you per se, but the bare contact of his lips placed against your neck like this felt like a kiss. Besides, the vest shirt that you wore left a lot of skin on your chest on display, thus providing Din, and yourself, to relish in skin-to-skin contact.

You could feel his beard, it was a light amount of hair, grazing against you with every little movement of his head. Soon, though, all of those little movements from Din became obvious that he was uncomfortable, as if he kept moving slightly to adjust his comfort.

“Want me to stop?” You ask, wondering if he has had enough of you playing with his hair, but to your delight, he shook his head as he inhaled deeply. He smiles against your skin, thus piquing your interest. “What? What is it?” You laugh bashfully. 

“You smell good, ner cyar’ika.” He replies, nestling his nose into your neck to inhale the natural scent of you. The smile on your face is yet to fade, his actions are what keeps your lips turned upwards, that was until you felt something wet dart onto your skin. It was brief, too brief, but you felt it nonetheless.

It was Din’s tongue, and your smile disappears as you bite your lip, leaving a hankering desire to feel it again. Your skin heats up beneath him as you entertain those thoughts about him lying over you like this for a different reason. You think about how you’ve yearned for his gloved fingers to touch other areas of your body, and as well as wondering about his identity, you’ve also wondered what he looks like nude. A mind is an imaginative place, and you’ve imagined him naked more than once. You sigh softly with the ache between your legs, wishing Din to be the one who eases it. 

“Mesh’la,” He mumbles, grabbing your attention, and when you hum in reply to him, he asks: “Is everything ok? Your heart is racing -” Your eyes spring open with worry, feeling like he could see your dirty thoughts, thus causing your heart to pound harder,  “- Hey, hey, relax. I can move, am I making you uncomfortable?” He asks, blaming himself for your panic. Although he is to blame, it’s not for the reason he thinks. 

“No, it’s just…” You falter with finding the right words, but the patience to wait for him any longer escapes you. “It’s just that I felt your tongue on my neck and if… Stars, this is going to be embarrassing if I’m wrong… and if you did it purposely, then I want to feel it again, but…” You gulp, gathering your courage to admit your feelings, “...But if it was just a mistake, then I think that we should maybe stop what we’re doing because I’m attracted to you Din.” 

“You are?” He asks, to which you reply firmly. “Yes. Yes, I am.” 

“So…” He smiles, “You like this?” He asks before placing an open mouthed kiss to your neck, his tongue darting out onto your skin again, thus eliciting you to sigh breathily. “Y-yes. Yes, I like that.” Your eyes close naturally as he plants another kiss on your skin, still with a smile on his lips, as he begins to pant. “I’m attracted to you too. Have been for a long time, ner cyar’ika.” 

“Oh, Din.” You moan. With arousal and relief, his admission makes you moan, the sound acting as a catalyst as he moves down your body, his head disappearing under the covers eagerly to hear you moan again. “Are you able to lay on your back?” You hear him ask, though his voice was muffled, you heard him clearly and nod frantically with excitement.

Shifting your position to accommodate him, you couldn’t feel the pain in your back anymore and slipped your hands beneath the covers, your fingers finding his hair with ease. “It’s ok, I’m comfortable lying like this.” You say while focusing on his every move with anticipation. You could feel his breath fanning across your lower stomach, his fingers hooked inside the waistband of your pants as he leans in to place another kiss on your skin. 

You lift your hips up with a silent request, one that he understood without a need for words, and begins pulling your pants down, along with your underwear. He leans in and presses his lips to your inner thigh, nipping a path toward your sex. You unintentionally begin gripping his hair by the handfuls, evidently desperate to feel his tongue delve into your slick folds. The man doesn’t waste time and gives in to his own desperation. 

“Din!” You whine upon feeling the tip of his tongue meet your clit. He teases you at first, moving his tongue in a circular motion with a feather-light touch, the action making your hips lift off the bed to search for more. You feel him smiling against your inner thigh, clearly satisfied with your reactions, before he closes his lips around your sensitive bud and sucks gently.

You let go of his hair to hold the back of your palm over your mouth, quieting your mewls of pleasure to a respectable level. Considering all the noises Din himself is making was driving you feral, it was a struggle to try and keep quiet. He sounded hungry, like a man starved for a taste of your sweetness right from the source, as if he had dreamed of this moment and was making the most of it now that it’s a reality.

Your hands abandoned his hair to grip handfuls of the bed sheets instead, your back arching as you tilt your head to the side and bury your face into the pillow. Your orgasm crept up on you, started off with a happy cramp in your stomach but quickly became bliss as he eased a finger inside your entrance, soothing the ache in your velvety walls. Din grunted heavily, needily, as he drank your desire.

He continued to flick his tongue against your clit while angling his finger into a come hither motion, caressing that sweet spot deep inside. The stars behind your eyes and the goosebumps rippling across your body never felt so good before, especially from the simple act of receiving oral. It’s been a while, a long while, since you’ve last felt the pleasurable touch of your own hands, let alone a man's pair of hands.

You needed this, needed to release all your pent up sexual energy, though it only made you insatiable for more. “Din,” You call to him, calling on his help to your frustrations, “Din, I need you.” 

Suddenly, his hand emerges from the quilt, “Here,” he says, handing you a blindfold. “Put this on for me, sweet girl.” He asks, to which you oblige and pull the item over your eyes hastily. “Ready - now get up here, I need to feel you.” 

Moving up your body without having to tell him twice, he travels slowly and plants kisses on your skin along the way, his smile never fading as he takes in the sight of you beneath him. “Gar’re bid mesh’la… (you’re so beautiful).” He growls wantonly, “...Bid, bid mesh’la (so, so beautiful).”

“I’m not sure what that means,” You giggle, the smile on your lips as wide as ever, “But I like the way you say it.” You reach out carefully in search of his face, to which he helps by directing your hands, and once you feel him, you gasp. “Stars! You’re so beautiful,” you whisper in awe as you trace the outline of his facial features, “Your lips… your cheekbones… nose… jawline… everything about you is beautiful, Din.” 

“Thank you, sweet girl.” He breathes, eyes closing to relish in the soft touch of your palms cupping his cheeks. “I’ll teach you Mando’a and soon you will understand everything I say, but I said you were beautiful too. So beautiful.” He explains, causing your cheeks to burn once again with flattery as you pull him closer. His lips press against yours with a bruising kiss, and you couldn’t help but moan because of the raw passion and loving desire to finally feel what you’ve yearned for. 

Although there was a hint of desperation in his bid to remove your clothes, Din was gentle with his movements, gentle and respectful. You helped remove his clothes too, and with each inch of skin revealed, you marvelled at the bare touch of him pressing against you. You’ve seen areas of the man's skin before when taking care of his injuries, but never fully seen him naked. 

Using your sense of touch to see, you feel his body and drag your fingers along his chest, feeling the brute strength that he holds. The strength of a warrior. Between your legs, you feel his member pressing against your cunt and it was an impressive size. Aching to be buried in your warm. His breath bellowing across your face, hot and heavy, laden with the same sound of relief from earlier when you played with his hair as you admire his body now. 

“Cyar’ika.” He groans. Placing his hands beside your head, you feel his body shudder with need, his hips rolling forward ever so slightly to ease the throb that burdens his cock. You slip your hands around the base of his neck, pulling him in to close the gap and kissing his lips whilst parting your legs. As he lines himself up at your entrance, your hands fall to his biceps, holding him tightly as you prepare from the breach. 

“Nngh,” you break off to moan, deeply and satisfyingly, “Fuck, Din! Keep going.” You lift your head off the pillow to kiss him again, letting him swallow all the little pretty noises you were making as he carefully buried himself to the hilt. Your walls opened up with ease, stretching to accommodate his size. “It’s ok,” You say, pleading for him to move. “I’m ok.” 

“Are you sure, mesh’la?” He asks, to which you nod in reply. “Waited so long for this,” pulling his hips back slowly, he grabs onto your thigh for leverage before burying himself into your cunt again. “Dank Farrik!” He grunts across your face, “So warm and tight. Better than I imagined, sweet girl.” 

The sound of his filthy words made you mewl, having never heard the man speak this way before, you were surprised, yet growing more aroused and confident to be honest with him. “I used to think… Shit!” You stutter as he grinds into you, drawing out a moan from your lips, “...I used to think about this. In the night, while you were sleeping in your bunk, I’d think about you making love to me.” You admit. 

“Oh fuck.” Din gasps. Picking up his pace while resting his forehead against yours, his moans broken and breathless, his cock reaches a new depth inside your cunt, hitting that sweet spot inside over and over again. “I’m so relieved to hear you say that,” he says, “I took myself in hand many nights thinking about you."  

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” You quickly warn upon feeling the peak of your climax racing toward you. “I’m close. Stars! I’m so close. Keep talking to me.” You cry, feeling yourself on the verge of tearing up from the intensity of your pleasure, but the sound of his voice keeps you tethered to the moment, preventing you from floating up to cloud nine. 

“I would dream about you often,” He groans while holding the base of your neck, his thumbs dragging across your skin reassuringly, “Wet dreams, mesh’la. I felt so ashamed, but… Fuck, they felt so good. Dreaming about you in my sleep felt so good.” 

“More… Tell me more.” You hiss. Wrapping your legs around his back and locking your ankles together, you feel his hips falter as he moans through gritted teeth. “Your pussy, nngh! I’d dream about your pussy wrapped around me, taking my load, mesh’la. Again and again until you couldn’t hold any more and it dripped out of you. Fuck! I’m gonna… Shit, Y/N, I’m coming-” He cuts himself off with a needy whine, throwing his head back with bliss as he feels you clenching around him. 

“I-Inside,” You begged him, “Please, Din. Come inside of me.” The man couldn’t stop himself even if he tried to. You felt him reach climax, the warmth of his release spreading inside of you, coating your velvety walls as they pulsed around him, as if milking him of everything he could give. “Mando. Fuuck, Mando!” You mewled directly into his ear, your eyes screwed shut behind the blindfold as his orgasm pushed you over the edge. 

White static casted over your eyes as your ears ring loudly, your heart thrums in your chest as nothing but pleasure courses through your veins. You unintentionally dig your nails into his back, clawing at his skin as he reverts to a slow grind into your cunt, the movements pleasuring your clit and prolonging the ecstasy of your high. “That’s it, sweet girl. There you go.” He praises you through it as he comes down from his orgasm, the sound of his voice overstimulating. 

Resting your head back against the pillow as you come down, breathing heavily, he plants loving kisses along your jawline and neck. “So pretty like this.” He whispers sweetly, his voice heavy with satisfaction as your hands find his face again. “Are you okay?” He asks. 

“How…” Your voice croaks, “How do you say happy in Mando’a?” 

“Briikase,” He chuckles, to which you reply with a smile. “Well, I’m briikase right now. Really briikase.” 

“Me too, cyar’ika-” He pauses to brush the hair away from your face, correcting himself. “Ner cyar’ika baar’ur.” You open your mouth to ask another question, to ask what difference in his pet names mean, but he leans in to catch your lips in a fervent kiss instead. 

Din pulls back, looking to where your eyes would be behind the blindfold while caressing your cheek. “Ner cyar’ika baar’ur... my darling medic. Ni’m ori briikase as pirusti bal ni kar'taylir darasuum gar, mesh’la... I’m very happy as well and I love you, beautiful.” 

You make a surprised sound when hearing some familiar words in his language and learning what they mean, that he has said them before in the past. “I love you too, Din.” You say earnestly, the tears staining the fabric of his blindfold, which you now just realized that he’s kept in his pocket in hopes to use with you one day, like today. You not only became Din D’jarin’s medic, but you became his - his darling medic. 

There aren’t a lot of things that surprise you these days as a trained medic, but that doesn’t mean nothing surprises you anymore. These last few days have been adventurous and emotional, foreign and unfamiliar, life-threatening and dangerous. It’s been life-changing for you and the Mandalorian, and it’s all because of a baby. The little guys presence not only sparked your maternal instincts, but the protective fatherly instincts within Din too. 

And, although neither of you know it now, the baby is only just the beginning of your treacherous journey across the stars in search of reuniting him with his people.

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[alwaysbethewest]

Triple Frontier fic: A Pilot for Christmas

It's @pedrostories Secret Santa day!! My assignment was for @frannyzooey, who requested domesticity, roommates-to-lovers, and fluff or smut 🥰 I had some of the most fun EVER writing this fic, so I hope it will make you smile, too, Kelli. Merry Christmas!! 🎄 Thank you to @mourningbirds1 and @fleetwoodmactshirt, both of whom I—not to be dramatic but—basically can't live without at this point, and at the very least couldn't have written this fic. And she's not a Pedro fan so I can't imagine she wants to be tagged in this, but thank you to my friend Alyssa for kindly helping me with one of the very few pieces of actual research I did for it.

Title: A Pilot for Christmas Pairing: Frankie Morales/f!Reader Rating: Mature Word Count: 4.8k Content/warnings: roommates to lovers, hot single dad Frankie, pining, yearning, lusting, questionable romance novel smut, compromising positions, sexual content, fade to black, food, domesticity. Unbetaed, so please let me know if you spot any typos/errors!

There’s a note for you on the kitchen table, written in Frankie’s even, boxy print: Mac + cheese + trees in fridge if you want some.

Your schedules never align on Wednesdays; your boss’s mandatory mid-week team meetings inevitably keep you late and Frankie is always on his way to Laura’s place by the time you get home. You haven’t met his ex-wife, but you think she must be nice enough since he’s usually in a good mood when he gets home from their weekly family dinners. They’re co-parenting, as he’d explained when you first moved in, and along with providing dinner on Wednesdays he does his part by taking their daughter on the weekends. He’s given you a break in the rent to make up for sharing your apartment with a three-year-old two days a week.

This is technically a sublet, and it’s technically temporary, but you get along well enough with Frankie that sometimes it feels a little like kismet. His old roommate had landed a contract overseas for a year just as you were moving to town, and a mutual friend had connected you. There are four months left on the contract, but you’d heard from the roommate recently that he was expecting the position to be renewed, so most likely you’ll get to stay longer if you want to. Nothing is official yet either way, and you’ve decided to give yourself another month before you start to worry about it.

Having the apartment to yourself once a week is the perfect opportunity to watch your favorite guilty pleasure TV shows without fear of male judgment—not that Frankie gets really rude about it but his silent raised eyebrow speaks volumes—and you happily warm up a bowl of macaroni and cheese and “trees” (broccoli; it turns out toddlers lose interest when you use the B-word) and settle in on the couch.

Living with Frankie has gone better than you’d feared it might. Knowing he was the friend of a friend of a friend had alleviated some of your anxiety about moving in with a stranger, and he’s turned out to be a mostly quiet, respectful roommate. After maintaining clear-cut boundaries for the first couple of weeks, you had both relaxed a little bit and settled into something of a shared routine. He likes to cook but doesn’t enjoy grocery shopping, so you often take his list along with your own to the store—and reap the rewards on nights like this when he keeps you well-fed. You both like to keep a tidy home, and neither of you minds the other person throwing in a few items when you’re doing a load of laundry. You’ve even mostly gotten over the embarrassment of the time Frankie had delicately handed you a pair of thong underwear he’d found trapped in the sleeve of one of his clean shirts. The barely-contained amusement on his face had haunted you for a full week.

When you’ve finished your dinner you pause the TV to go wash your bowl, and while you’re in the kitchen you take a few minutes to put away the dishes Frankie had left drying in the dish rack. It’s an easy symbiosis, you muse, a give-and-take that seems to suit you both. Underneath his note, you write back: Delicious!! Thank you, and sign it with a heart.

Most of the time your editing job allows you to maintain a reasonable work-life balance, but this month you’ve found yourself scrambling to get everything done before the upcoming holiday break. Your co-worker Deandra is off on an unexpected leave, and after taking on a share of her work on top of your own, the projects have started to form an intimidating pile. One Monday, two weeks before Christmas, you compromise your typical boundaries by logging back onto your laptop after dinner to work on a manuscript. Frankie is watching a game with the volume on low and it makes for comfortable background noise while you work from the opposite end of the couch.

Deandra’s specialty is romance, and while you’ve had to get used to covering a new genre, having some variety has been interesting. But a detail in this book is bothering you. You glance at Frankie, whose expression is quietly focused. His team is leading the scoreboard by a healthy margin. You don’t think he’ll mind a brief distraction.

“Hey. I could use your piloting expertise. Can I ask you a weird question?”

Frankie raises an eyebrow and shrugs his assent. “Go ahead.”

“Okay, so—is it logistically possible to have sex in a cockpit?”

You have his attention. He slowly turns his head to give you a long, wide-eyed look. After a moment of silence, he narrows his eyes, contemplating. “What kind of aircraft are we talking?”

“Like a regular… A commercial passenger plane?”

He nods, pursing his mouth and tilting his head up so he can gaze off into space, like he’s visualizing it. He glances at you again.

“Two people?” he checks.

“Two—yes, it’s—” he’s surprised you a little, and you fumble for words. “It’s not a cockpit orgy,” you tell him.

He laughs. “Pilots like to party,” he says opaquely, and now you’re the one narrowing your eyes at him, but he’s ignoring your questioning look. “Okay, is it possible? Theoretically, sure. Especially if the other person is short. Is it comfortable, though?” He pulls a face. “It wouldn’t be my choice. It’s a cramped space. Someone’s gonna end up hitting their head, or accidentally kicking the instrument panel, or…” he trails off, shaking his head in disapproval. “It’s… inadvisable.”

“Got it. Thank you.” You make some notes in the Word document on your screen, still internally recovering from his follow-up question, and Frankie turns his attention back to the TV, where the opposing team is starting to close the lead.

You’re no prude, but the genre you usually work in fades to black more often than not, and this author’s penchant for smutty detail has you feeling slightly in over your head. You’ve made it past the cockpit quickie but four chapters later Frankie’s team is on the cusp of winning their game and your protagonist is finally about to have her tall, dark, and handsome pilot love interest in a real bed.

“This love scene is… really something,” you comment. Frankie looks over in interest.

“Read it to me.”

“It’s dirty,” you warn him.

Frankie smirks. “I think I can handle it.”

You take a breath and start to read aloud from the page: “Isabella’s heart raced in excitement. Roderick was standing so close she felt as though his breath was entering her lungs with every inhalation. He took her hand and pressed her palm to himself, making her feel his turgid cock stirring in his pants—Obviously that needs to go—”

“Which part, the turgid cock?” Frankie asks. “I like it.”

“You like it?” you ask, incredulous.

“What?” he says. “A guy can’t enjoy a turgid cock now?”

“Jesus,” you laugh. Your face is starting to feel warm. “Isabella’s petite hand could barely fit around Roderick’s girthy length and it made her whimper with arousal. Roderick smirked down at her. ‘I can’t wait to be inside you,’ he rasped hungrily. He grabbed her by the waist and pulled her flush against his body. ‘Tell me you want it,’ he growled.” You glance at Frankie and see he’s got one arm slung across his chest and the other hand resting at his mouth, thumbnail running distractedly over his lips. He’s staring at the TV without really watching it, and after a moment of silence he finally blinks and meets your eyes again.

“It’s weird you get to read porn for work,” he says dryly, and you bury your face in your hands and laugh.

When the game ends, Frankie switches on an episode of Star Trek that he seems to be half watching while he does something on his phone. On your laptop screen, Roderick has you stymied.

Roderick’s muscular arms tossed Isabella onto the bed like she weighed nothing. “Ohhh,” she moaned. “Give it to me.”

“Give you what, baby?” he rasped. “I want to hear you say it.”

“Give me—” Her pale cheeks blushed prettily. How could she say it out loud? But he was looking at her with such lust in his eyes that she knew he only wanted to make sure she was ready to turn herself over to him, to let him use her any way he liked. The thought of it made her shiver with anticipation. “Give me your cock, Roderick. Make me yours.”

With a growl from deep in his chest, Roderick dragged her hips down the bed so that she was balancing on the edge, where his body loomed over hers. Turning her onto her side, he leaned down to nose under her ear, nipping at the delicate skin of her neck and making her moan. His broad hand clutched her thigh, maneuvering her leg to tuck her knee around his hips, and his other hand he ran tantalizingly down her back until he reached her other thigh. He opened her legs, like an explorer unveiling the treasure he’d been seeking, and he straightened up, lifting her ankle to rest against his shoulder, and grinding his hard member against her core.

You go over the last few lines again, whispering the words under your breath to yourself as you try to picture the position. You feel like you need a diagram.

“I’m lost,” you declare.

Frankie glances up from his phone. “Hm?”

“I don’t understand where these limbs are going,” you tell him. “I don’t know if my brain just isn’t working because it’s 9 PM or if this passage needs rewriting. Or if this sex is too advanced for me.”

He laughs and makes a grabbing motion at your laptop. “Lemme see.”

You hand it over, standing up to stretch while he reads it to himself.

“‘He opened her legs like an explorer unveiling the treasure he’d been seeking,’” Frankie reads out dramatically. “Really?”

“Don’t get caught up in the simile,” you say. “Focus on the legs. Is that position even feasible? For someone who isn’t a contortionist?”

“Maybe in the next chapter they reveal she was raised in the circus,” he suggests, but he squints at the screen again, reading through the text. “I think I get it. It’s like—” He gestures with his arms, posing them to mimic Isabella’s legs. It’s borderline incomprehensible.

Later, you’ll blame the late hour and your overworked brain for what happens next. If you’d been running on all cylinders, you would have thought through the boundary-crossing implications of this and stopped yourself, but as it is you frown down at him and say, “Show me.”

“What do you mean?”

“Come on,” you urge him, already heading down the hallway to your bedroom. He hesitates, but then follows a few paces behind, and it’s then—the moment he crosses the threshold behind you—that your brain finally catches up to your actions and you begin to realize this was a terrible, terrible idea.

But somehow, coming up with an excuse to turn back feels more mortifying than plowing forward. You sit on the edge of the bed, trying to focus on the matter at hand. Frankie is hanging back, but you give him an expectant look and he takes a step towards you. He clears his throat softly.

“On your side,” he says. It shouldn’t sound like a command—he offers it gently, a reminder of the scene you’re playing out—but something inside you can’t tell the difference and you feel a spot deep in your core go hollow and needy. You turn, obediently, and lay on your right side. He touches the knee of your right leg, urging you to pull it forward.

“This leg around me.”

He steps into the crook of your knee, between your thigh and your calf, and looks down at your other leg, tucked awkwardly between your bodies.

“This is where it gets weird,” he says, and you laugh out loud. The sound dies out when you feel his fingers firmly wrap around your ankle and slowly maneuver your left leg, straight in front of you and then pivoting towards the ceiling. You feel the stretch in your hips, your body turning to follow so you’re halfway between your back and your side. It’s awkward, and he must see your face twist in discomfort, because he stops midway through the movement and rests your foot on his left shoulder. His body is solid and warm against the back of your leg.

“I think in the book it was over here,” he says, tapping his right shoulder. “So maybe she is a contortionist.”

“Or I need to do more Pilates,” you lament. He looks amused.

“Does this position even make sense? Would this work for you?” you ask him, regretting the question as soon as it’s left your mouth. He blinks down at you and his eyes rake down the length of your body to where you’re tangled around him. His hand is still resting over your ankle.

“Your bed is too low,” he says.

It’s—You’d meant the question in a more hypothetical sense. With some other partner, in some other scenario, would this position work? The knowledge that he has taken in the question and assessed the situation—looked at your two bodies in relation to each other, here, in your room, and thought about whether he could fuck you like this—makes you lose your breath.

“Plus—” he continues. He nudges at you to roll you onto your back, carefully lowering your foot from his shoulder so he’s standing between your open legs, nothing between you but empty space and a secret, aching want. He leans in, bracing his hands flat on either side of your body, not touching you but close enough he would only have to lean in. “I like to be able to kiss someone when I make love to them,” he says softly.

He shoots you a smile that could almost be a smirk as he stands up and heads out of the room, leaving you clutching the duvet cover as the world around you tilts on its axis.

It’s not like you’ve never noticed Frankie is attractive. Anybody could see that he is. He’s boyishly cute when he’s playing around with his daughter, their matching, dimpled smiles on display; smoldering when he gets cleaned up to go out on the town with the guys, if a little less runway-ready the morning after; and confusingly, unrecognizably handsome on the occasions he goes clean-shaven. But he’s been so firmly relegated to “platonic male roommate” status since you moved in that you’ve never, even for a second, thought about pursuing anything more. Lusting after your roommate can only end in awkwardness and moving boxes.

So discovering that the man you live with isn’t just good-looking, but has the ability to leave you wet and aching with desire, without even trying, has you looking at everything through a new lens.

On Tuesday, mid-morning, your phone lights up with a text from him. It’s a picture of a small plane cockpit interior, just two seats and a display of navigational instruments.

See how tight she is? he’s written.

You blink at your phone. SHE??

…

She = the plane. Sorry, pilot speak.

Mortifying. You nearly pull up the local apartment rentals page on Craigslist right then and there. You dive into your work instead—not Deandra’s romance, but the grisly thriller in your regular docket. Roderick and Isabella need to give you some space this week. It’s not them, it’s you—and the images of Frankie and you in compromising positions that had popped into your mind when you attempted to pick back up the draft.

He’s like a specter, haunting you.

Wednesday evening is your night with the apartment to yourself, and you’ve never been happier to be alone. He’s left you dinner, again, and you almost don’t eat it on principle—you’ll have to get used to feeding yourself, after all, once he kicks you out for making it too blatantly obvious you want to jump him.

But it would be an actual crime to pass up his enchiladas. You savor the plate. Maybe he’ll give you the recipe as a parting gift, if you ask nicely.

You pour yourself a glass of wine and catch up on one of your shows, and some of the tension you’ve been holding starts to drain from your body. But underneath is a familiar, restless energy buzzing through you, desperate for a different outlet, that you can’t ignore.

You go to bed early. What you need is just a little quality time with yourself, to reconnect and remind your body that you’re perfectly capable of satisfying it on your own—or with the no-strings-attached assistance of a vibrator.

It’s a valiant, miserable attempt. Every tried and true fantasy keeps rerouting back to Frankie. You turn your toy to its highest setting and the sensation still pales in comparison to the thrill of his fingers wrapped securely around your ankle, the line of his body pressed against your legs, and his low, deadly voice telling you how to move.

You go to sleep more frustrated than when you started, only to dream of him. He’s hovering over you, pressing you into the bed, his hot mouth on your neck and sucking on your tits and working his way down to eat you out and bring an orgasm crashing through you—and you wake up at 3 AM with your cunt throbbing between your legs.

One of the things you’ll miss most about this place when you inevitably have to move out due to your incurable roommate attraction is the in-unit washer and dryer. Perhaps in solidarity with your own resolve and self-control, the dryer abruptly breaks in the middle of the week.

“Do you want me to call the landlord, or will you?” you ask Frankie, but he immediately shakes his head.

“Let me take a look at it,” he says.

You bite down on the inside of your cheek.

Two hours and one trip to a hardware store later, he’s on his knees in front of the machine, working quietly save for an occasional soft grunt of exertion when he has to fit something into place.

There’s a bare strip of skin on display where his shirt has ridden up, and a black waistband peeking out from under his jeans. Your mind drifts, imagining away the denim and picturing how the tight boxer briefs would cup his ass and grip his muscular thighs, until your own thighs are clenching and you force yourself to go clean the kitchen instead.

“I’m moving out,” you call over your shoulder as you go.

“I promise I can fix it,” he says, like he thinks you’re just fed up with one broken appliance, not your own internal breakdown.

If only.

It’s 7 AM Friday and you’re fixing your coffee when Frankie ambles into the kitchen, bare-chested and barefoot and wearing nothing more than a pair of low-slung pajama bottoms. If you allowed yourself to look, you would see the soft curve of his modest belly and the sparse line of hair trailing down to disappear enticingly under his waistband. His voice is early morning-deep when he mumbles a good morning. His hand steadies casually on your wrist when he stands next to you to grab a mug from the cupboard just to your left, and you hope he can’t feel your pulse quicken under his touch. When his coffee is ready and he takes his first sip, he lets out a satisfied groan. You want to die.

“You must be doing this on purpose,” you say, dismayed.

He blinks at you over the rim of his coffee cup. “Doing what?”

You gesture helplessly, at his naked chest and effortlessly rumpled bedhead. “Just—being all—”

He glances down at himself, then back at you, raising an eyebrow. “Being all…?”

“Just—sexy, I guess,” you finally admit.

For a moment, he looks surprised. Then an amused smile spreads slowly over his face and he takes a step towards you, clever eyes taking in how your body straightens and your breath picks up.

“I didn’t realize it bothered you,” he says. “Didn’t you say you were going to move out, anyway?”

“I am,” you say. “I can’t stand you anymore.”

He takes another step closer.

“Are you sure?” he asks. “I could give you a reason to stay.”

You slump against the counter at your back, helplessly wanting him.

“Please,” you tell him.

He touches you carefully, one hand skimming your hip and the other on your arm. He cocks his head, looking skeptical.

“You really think I’m sexy?” he asks.

You nod miserably. “It’s torture.”

He laughs and you are desperately endeared by the way it makes the corners of his eyes crinkle, and the hint of a dimple peeking out under his beard.

“I’m going to kiss you,” he says, and he leans in, and the touch of his lips to yours makes you feel like you’re floating, like your body might drift up to the sky if not for his sturdy frame anchoring you in place. Like your legs might give out, sending you sliding to the floor, except that he’s pressing close enough now that his body is touching yours, bending you back just enough to easily reach, and his hand has crept up from your arm to wrap around the back of your neck, holding you securely even as he finally pulls his mouth away, leaving you breathless and dazed.

You think you understand the overwrought prose of Deandra’s romances now.

“I can’t stand you either,” he says quietly. “You were torturing me the other night, with all the dirty talk from that book and then making me go to your room. Christ.”

“Sorry,” you say, not really meaning it. You’ve never felt this intoxicated this early in the morning. You’ve never looked into his eyes this close up. They’re a rich, deep brown that you feel halfway hypnotized by.

He glances away and must spot the microwave clock, because he pulls away with a look of regret. “I need to get ready for work.”

“Take a sick day,” you suggest.

He smiles ruefully and shakes his head. “I can’t,” he says. “But what would you do if I did?

You take a deep breath. Your eyes drop to his waist, and you touch your fingertips gingerly to the soft skin on display there. You lift your gaze to meet his own.

“I’d ask you to take me to bed,” you tell him.

He forces himself to leave. You watch his fingers clenching as he turns away, closing around the empty air as though he wishes it was you.

You go to your own room on unsteady legs and finish getting ready for work, thinking of Frankie’s mouth for your entire commute and almost missing your exit as a result. This time, opening Roderick and Isabella’s romance is a whole new kind of torture, and you end up claiming a headache by 3 o’clock to go home early, not caring if your boss can see through the lie.

Getting home early means you have plenty of time to shower and shave and moisturize with intent this time instead of your regular lazy girl morning routine. You’re soft and smooth and clean, in the kitchen making a snack of crackers and cheese to distract your anticipatory nerves, when Frankie comes home.

He gives you a small, familiar smile and sets a grocery bag on the counter between the two of you.

“You pick which comes first,” he says, nodding to the bag. He steals a cracker off your plate while you peer inside.

He’s brought you two pints of Ben & Jerry’s and one box of condoms.

“All the essentials,” you observe, and he grins. You pluck the condoms out of the bag and hand them to him meaningfully. His smile turns a little sly and he leans in and kisses you, too briefly for your liking, before pulling away again.

“I have to take a quick shower,” he says. “Wait for me?”

You let out a sigh, turning to put away the ice cream. “Don’t take too long,” you joke, gesturing to the pints. “I’ve got two other men waiting for me.”

“Ha, ha,” he says, already halfway down the hall.

Out of the shower, he comes to you with damp hair curling softly around his head, dressed simply in a navy t-shirt and dark grey sweatpants, and looking so good you think you might combust. After a moment of flirtation—your room or mine?—you finally find yourself in his bedroom. He leans in to kiss you and he takes his time this time, cupping your face in his large hand, teasing gently at your mouth, sliding his tongue along yours to deepen the kiss. When he pulls away to trace his lips down your jawline, you take a breath to steady yourself—and then squint in confusion. There’s a familiar scent in his hair.

“Is that—did you use my shampoo?”

He goes still for a moment, caught, and then laughs.

“Mine ran out,” he admits, a little sheepishly. He pulls in closer, nosing at your neck. “Yours is nicer, anyway. I always like how it smells on you.”

“We can share,” you say generously. “I’ve never been one of those roommates who labels all their shit.”

“Good,” he murmurs, mouth hot against your collarbone. “‘Cause I also ate your leftovers.”

You make a sound of exasperation and he tackles you to the bed, promising apologetically that he’ll make it up to you. And then proceeds to do so.

Very thoroughly.

You awaken to find a note on the pillow next to you, in Frankie’s familiar printed handwriting: Going to pick up Baby M. See you soon.

You give yourself a minute to luxuriate in his bed, enjoying the calm, satiated feeling in your body, and the warm scent of him in the sheets, and then you straighten up his bedding and scurry back to your own room to get dressed before he arrives home with his daughter. You’re just pulling your shirt over your head when you hear their voices in the living room, and you go out to greet them. He’s juggling a Starbucks tray in one hand along with his keys and her travel bag. She’s munching contentedly on a snack and doing her part by carrying her favorite stuffed seal plushie.

Over her head, he shoots you a warm, intimate smile. You feel a giddy thrill bubble up in your chest and you grin back at him.

“We made a coffee run,” he says, nodding to the drinks. “Someone wanted a cake pop.” The toddler tips her face up to offer a beatific, icing-smudged smile. Frankie sets her bag on the couch and leads the three of you into the kitchen.

“That one is yours,” he tells you, pointing to one of the cups. Then, to her, “You want some real breakfast, mija?”

You look at the label on the drink and your jaw drops in surprise. “How did you know London Fogs are my favorite?”

He shrugs, like it’s not a big deal, but you catch a self-satisfied smile on his face as he turns away. “I notice things.”

He keeps a platonic distance while his daughter is in the kitchen but when she leaves to go put her stuffed animal away in her room, he pulls closer, nudging your hand with his. “You alright?” he murmurs.

You rub your thumb across his knuckles. “I’m really, really good.”

“I convince you not to move out?” he asks. You pretend to think about it.

“Almost. I think you could tip the balance if you make me some eggs.”

He clicks his tongue in affirmation. “Got it.”

Later, when the three of you have settled at the breakfast table with piles of fluffy scrambled eggs and buttered toast, his face changes like he’s just remembered something.

“Hey, how did that book end up, with Roderick and what’s-her-name?” he asks you, taking a sip of his coffee. “You never mentioned it after Monday night.”

You haven’t actually made it to the end yet, but you already know the answer.

“They lived happily ever after,” you tell him. “It’s a staple of the genre. The couple always has a happy ending.”

“Huh,” he says. He gives you a small, private smile, and taps his foot against yours, out of sight under the table. “That’s good to hear.”

#pedrostoriesgift22 #pedrostories #my fic #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales #triple frontier fanfiction #pedro pascal #triple frontier #francisco morales

[noisynaia]

Magnetic Fields

My work for the lovely @pedrostories Secret Santa event 2022 🎁

@queenofthefaceless I hope you enjoy this, it was so fun to write! 💕

pairing: Din Djarin x afab!reader 

word count: 7.2k 

note: Explicit. (18+) The Razor Crest lives, and the helmet comes off. Bounty hunter reader. Canon-compliant injuries. Enemies to lovers (lovers to enemies to enemies with benefits to lovers). Mutual pining. Unprotected P in V (with use of contraception). Slow burn. No use of (y/n). The reader uses she/her pronouns. This has not been beta-read and English is not my native language. December has been more stressful for me than I thought it would so I haven't even had time to proofread this, so It might be pretty messy, but regardless, happy holidays ya'll! ♥︎

Crossposted on ao3

Smut right under the cut.

You had never, not even in your wildest fantasy, thought you would do this with him again. It is, of course, very different this time around. No clumsy hands or nervous laughs as you shyly explore each other’s bodies, no eager kisses shared in the pitch-black darkness, for you to wonder what he looks like under the heavy helmet. No, this time around it’s rougher. 

Your knees are being pushed deeper into the hard mattress of the bunk with each frantic thrust from the Mandalorian behind you. Your ass is in the air and your face is buried in the pillow that smells so overwhelmingly of him. His armour normally conceals it, just like how it conceals so much else of him, but the sheets reveal his secret. His scent is rich and musky with a certain freshness that is reminiscent of pine, and it’s just like you remembered it. 

The angle of which he’s railing his cock into you is perfect, every strong thrust hitting that spongey magic-spot inside you, that is making your eyes teary and have you whine with pleasure. You are dripping wet and the adrenaline that still pounds through your body is making everything feel a hundred times more intense. You do fear that you’re going to regret this in the morning, but right now you simply don’t care. After two weeks of being cooped up in the cramped ship with the Mandalorian and his foundling, too scared to seek your own release out of fear of being heard, this is exactly what you have been desperate for. A part of you is aware that you have missed it, missed him, but you don’t let that part of you be heard right now. This is a transaction with mutual benefits, nothing more. The two of you fucking the adrenaline and frustration out of your systems and then you’ll go back to ignore each other as much as possible in the morning. But damn if his body isn’t heaven… 

Two weeks earlier…  

You take one last glance around the room, making sure that you have not forgotten anything, not that you have many items left that could have been left behind… Your ship is gone and with it most of your belongings. The Silver Lining had gotten wrecked to scraps on your last mission and had been completely irreparable. That ship had been your everything and with the loss of it had come the loss of your home, along with most of your belongings, your livelihood and your whole identity. The journey back to Nevarro had been long and dreadful, the bus pods slow and uncomfortable, but you had finally arrived about a week ago and had informed Karga of your situation. 

He had given you his condolences about your ship and told you that he would try and see if he could do something for you. You appreciate this, but had also expected him to do something for you, after having worked for him for so many years. He had asked if you would be willing to team up with another member of the guild until you have collected enough credits to get a new ship, if he was able to find a willing partner for you.

You had said yes to this proposal, it would not be the first time you partnered up with a fellow bounty hunter, even though you haven’t done it for more than a single hunt or two at a time, not since your beginner days with him... But you’re in a compromised situation and your options are limited. 

You have stayed at the dingy inn since you came back to Nevarro, sleeping most of the days away and spending the nights drowning your sorrows about losing your beloved ship with too much Spotchka. But you had been contacted by Karga last night, he had found a hunter that is willing to partner up with you until you are able to get a new ship. Your best guess is Klian, the two of you have developed a sort of friendship over the years, mostly after you have learned to turn a deaf ear to his flirtatiousness.

You check out of your room before heading to the Cantina where Karga resides. It’s a short walk and you’re soon stepping through the door to the busy establishment. You walk over to the area where you always can find Karga, ignoring the annoying comments from the drunk Cantina goers. 

You look up when you reach Karga’s area, and the sight that meets you makes your stomach drop. There in the dim Cantina is the last person you would ever think to have agreed to team up with you, but there he sits at Karga’s table, in all of his beskar-clad glory, Mando… 

You don’t know much about what the Mandalorian has been up to the last several years, you’ve actually only seen him a handful of times in the decade that has passed since your fallout. You had dropped trying to talk with him the first time you saw him again after he had left you, he had been so standoffish and cold. You have no idea how Karga has convinced him, of all people, to take you onboard. 

You are still standing a few metres from the table, too surprised to say anything, the two men staring up at you from their seats at the table. Karga with an almost humorous expression, Mando not giving any emotions away do to the helmet  

“Please take a seat.” Karga finally breaks the silence. Gesturing to the empty chair opposite from Mando.   

You reluctantly sit down, making an effort to not meet the visor of the Mandalorians helmet, instead shooting Karga a confused and not very friendly look.

You risk a single glance over at Mando and that is when you notice a little green creature sticking its head up from the seat next to the Mandalorian. Has he got himself some sort of pet? You have never seen a creature like it before and you are staring at it as it gurgles happily at you. It takes you completely by surprise. The whole situation is so weird and your face is so contracted with confusion by it that it could be mistaken for disgust.

“I’d appreciate if you’d stop bothering my child.”

His child..?! Since when has he got a child? And what the hell does he mean by bothering…

You stare at Mando for about three seconds before you explode.

“Fuck you, Mando!” You hiss as you stand up, not offering another word as you and swing your bag over your shoulder and storm out of the cantina. There is no way you’re going to partner up with that asshole. Fuck this, fuck Karga and fuck Mando!

—

Din is a selfish man, selfish and weak, at least when it comes to you, maybe he should have let you leave, especially after having ignored you for so many years, undoubtedly hurting you badly by it. Din should let you make the choice of rejecting his offer, even if it’s going to hurt him, but he instead passes Grogu to Greef and stands up to follow you out of the Cantina. He is selfish after all.

Seeing you and Grogu in the same room had been too much for him, the only two people he has truly loved in his adult life were overwhelmed. His heart had begun to yearn. He had snapped at you, not knowing what to do with his emotions and he hates himself for it, you don’t deserve that, you have not deserved any of the shit he has put you through.   

He has been avoiding you the best he could in all these years. He has been making a habit of checking the spaceport on Nevarro for The Silver Lining, every time he docks there. Usually finding some sort of excuse to wait till you have taken off to go collect his pay and new bounties from Karga on the occasions you are on the planet at the same times as him. It has, however, not been possible to completely avoid you through the years, he usually opt for ignoring you on the occasions that he finds himself in your proximity. Din hates himself for it, the hurt in your eyes makes him feel sick from shame. He is not proud of how he broke things off with you all those years ago, but he had no choice, or at least he had felt like it.

Din had first met you when you both were young, only a year or two after he had become a member of the guild, and you had just left your home-world of Corellia, joining the guild had been tough for you, but you were a skilled hunter and an astounding pilot, but you had had a hard time being taken serious as a young woman in this line of work. It had not taken long for the two of you to form an alliance, you were the two newest members of the guild and the youngest, teaming up had seemed like a good idea. It had not taken long for the young Din to become completely captivated by you. You were beautiful, smart and so very kind and he had soon developed a huge crush on you. 

He had been over the moon when you had seemed to reciprocate his feelings, it had been a sweet but intense romance, like young love often is. You had bewitched him entirely, and the realisation of just how deeply he began to feel about you had frightened him. He had almost taken off his helmet in front of you. He had gotten more distant after that. You had asked him one night if anything was wrong, if you had done anything to upset him. It had broken Din’s heart to hear you sound so unsure and hurt. He had come up with some lame excuse, telling you that it was nothing. He’s a Mandalorian, he could never give you what you deserved. He does not have the capacity to give you that and he could not break his creed. 

He knows that he had hurt you, even though it was the last thing in the galaxy he had wanted to do, but he truly had felt like he hadn’t had a choice, he would not have been able to keep his creed if he had stayed with you. He had left you on Navarro, taken off in The Crest in the middle of the night without even saying goodbye. 

But now his creed has been broken… When he heard what had happened to your ship and that Karga was looking for someone to take you in he just couldn’t help himself, the tiny chance to get you back in his life had been too tempting. 

—

You stomp out of the Cantina, your ears are ringing with anger, but you don’t get far before you feel a big hand grasping your wrist stopping you in your tracks. It had been so long since he last touched you, but you know it’s him. A wave of emotions and memories sweeps through your body by his touch.

“Where are you going?” He asks as he spins you around to face him, his grip on your wrist is gentle. 

The softness he speaks with is throwing you off, you don’t know where to look, feeling too many, too contradicting, emotions at once. You hate him, but maker, how you have missed him too. 

“Away.” You huff, and he let go of your wrist. 

“Okay.” Is all he says, and it makes you want to scream. Why the fuck is he here, why does he suddenly want you to be around agin?! 

“Won’t you at least come in and talk before you leave? You don’t have to talk to me, but at least have a word with Karga.” 

“Fine.” You let out an angry huff through your nose, hating how sensible he sounds.

You step back into the cantina where Karga is sitting with the little green critter, who does look way more like a baby now that you get a better look at him. You hate the whole situation, but you’re also very desperate and after a short talk with Karga you give in even though it’s gonna be tense. Mando had been your first love after all and, as sad as it might be, the only man you’ve ever truly loved and he has really hurt you in the past…  

You get up from the table for the second time this evening when everything is settled. Mando is holding the pucks of the bounties you and him have been given, twice as many as you normally would have been given.  

“Why did you even say yes to this?” You finally ask Mando on the walk to the spaceport. 

Mando is quiet for a moment and you have begun to think that he is ignoring you again, but then he finally speaks. Crossing his arms over his chest plate and

“I owe Karga.” He simply states, not telling you the truth, that it actually is Kargo who owes him. That he had asked Karga to be the one to take you in. Din is after all a selfish man.  

“For what?” 

“That’s none of your business.” His words are harsh but all the bite is lost from his voice, he just sounds tired now.  

“Well, sorry I asked!” You scoff.

And the tense silence is back. The child is completely unaffected by the strained atmosphere, happy and curious to have gotten a new companion in you. You are angry and confused by the situation you have landed in, but that isn’t the child’s fault and you offer him a weak smile when he coos up at you as you reach the lot where The Crest is docked. 

“He’s my foundling by the way.” Mando tells you, nodding his helmet towards the little green kid. “His name is Grogu…”

You nod at the information, as Mando lowers the ramp, pushing past him the second the ramp has hit the ground, stomping into the ship. It’s many years since you last have been onboard, but you still remember the layout of The Crest and you stomp towards the tiny spare room. You are almost sure that it is where you’re going to stay and if you’re wrong you simply don’t care, you need to be alone behind a closed door for a second. Luckily it seems like you were right, a spare bunk is set up with clean sheets and a little cabin with empty shelves to your few remaining belongings. You let out a snort as the heavy metal door closes behind you. Mando making a room ready for you in his ship is an absurd mental image.     

“I’m going to get us off-world. We’re gonna hit the hyperspace route soon, you’ll have to come up in the cockpit for the jump.” His voice is sounding from the other side of the durasteel door. 

You let out a sigh as you let the bag slip from your shoulder and let it land on the floor with a thud.  

You’re seated in the copilot chair ten minutes later. Mando is in the pilot seat getting The Razor Crest ready for the hyperspace jump. Mando’s foundling in your lap due to lack of other seats.  

The eerie silence between you is suffocating so you focus your attention on the baby instead. Bouncing his little body on your knee which makes him gurgle with laughter, he really is a cute kid, his big bright eyes are pulling on your heart strings. You are distracted by Grogu when you realise Mando is staring at you from his seat in the pilot chair, but he looks back to the control panel as soon as you meet his gaze. What is his problem?! Does he have to micromanage your every move…

“What?” You snap irritated. 

“Nothing.” He says with a light shake of his head, staring out on the stars that rushes past you. 

Better be nothing, you think as you sulk into the seat. Passing the baby to him the second the jump is over and retreating back to the little room. 

The next days are tense, to put it mildly. You avoid Mando as much as possible and ignore him when you can’t avoid him, but you pull yourself together when you’re getting close to the planet of your first bounty. Biting the bullet and approaching Mando to talk about strategy, and it goes better than you had feared.

It is like the two of you agree on a silent truce when it comes to your hunts and it pays off. As much as you might hate each other on the ship, you are a good team in the field. 

Two weeks goes by like this. You are on the way to the last planet you have left before you have to go back to Nevarro and pick up new pucks and deliver the bounties. This hunt is the one you have been dreading, it is by far the most tricky one, and you have a feeling that both the bounty and the swamp planet is gonna be giving you and Mando a run for your money. And, oh boy, were you right… 

You are tired and frustrated. The humid air is feeling sweltering, and it’s making your shirt stick to your sweaty back. The fog is laying thick over the swampy landscape. You knew that this was going to be a more elaborate hunt than your previous ones, but it has taken you even longer to hunt the bounty down than you had anticipated. Despite your frustrations with Mando you have to admit, he is a damn talented hunter. You can’t help but be a little in awe when you watch him work. 

The impressive shine to his new armour, he looks so broad and strong in it. You had thought that he had looked good back when you first met him, all those years ago. The armour he wore back then was a little more crude, he had not walked with the same amount of authority as now, but you had both been young, both of you had recently left your respective homes to join the guild. You had been completely captivated by him. Kriff, you had even thought that you had loved him back then, thought that he might have loved you. He had been your first… He was a skilled and lethal hunter back then, but he had at the same time been more soft, it was before he had become battle hardened.  

He has, over the years, grown into the confident man and hunter he is today. The bond you had with him in your youth had been broken, completely torn to shreds, but you’re afraid that the intense attractiveness you felt for him is once again in full bloom. It annoys you, he shouldn’t have that power over you anymore, not after how he left things, but seeing him in action is so kiffin hot. The way he skillfully tracks his prey, the broadness of his shoulders and the thickness of his thighs is driving you wild. The satchel with little Grogu in it that is hung over his torso is throwing the picture of a lethal hunter off a bit, a weird contrast to Mando’s bruteness. But seeing him with his little son only makes him more attractive somehow.        

You don’t like that the kid is with you on hunts, every instinct in your body screams against. You are no expert on babies, but bringing them into dangerous situations feels like a big no-no, but it’s not like you have any other options. 

The hunt is long and tiresome and it’s late when you finally get back to The Crest. Grogu has fallen asleep, the satchel in which he lays is now hanging over your shoulder. The bounty is a giant of a man so you had to let Mando take care of him and instead be the one to carry Grogu. 

“I’ll put Grogu to bed.” You announce.

 Mando is struggling getting the bounty’s limp body carried into the ship and into the carbonite chamber before he gains consciousness again. The hunt is still close enough for the two of you to be civil with each other. You have never put Grogu to bed before, but Mando’s hands are full and the little one needs to be put down. Mando is rarely leaving him out of sight so you don’t spend a whole lot of time with the babe as you actually want to. And as much as you try to not get attached you’ve already fallen hard and fast for the little one. You still haven’t fully comprehended that Mando has a son now, you would never have imagined him as a parent before, but he seems to be doing a good job, and there is no doubt that he loves his little foundling. 

Grogu opens his eyes as you lift him over in his pod, muttering a tired sigh before falling back to sleep. You tuck him into his soft blanket and before you even register what you’re doing you're leaning in to press a gentle kiss to the top of his little fussy head. You step out of the little alcove in the hold in which Grogu’s pod is located and get shocked as you almost butt heads with Mando as you turn around. 

“Sorry…” He mutters. “Did Grogu make any trouble?” He asks, voice softer than you have heard it in a long time. 

“No, he was great, no trouble at all.” You shake your head. “He’s a good kid.” You can’t help but add. 

Mando just nods at this. A little silence settles between you. This is the closest you have been to him since you got on The Crest two weeks ago and the horrifying realisation of just how attractive you still find him is settling in. You are still feeling worked up from the mission and he is standing right there, visor trained directly on you.

“I just wanted to ask if you’re okay with waiting to take off to Nevarro till tomorrow?” He finally breaks the silence.

“Yeah, that’s fine by me.” You answer, you had not expected that you would take off tonight anyway. Mando nods but he still doesn't leave, you shuffle your feet a little. Does he feel the tension too? 

Mando takes a shaky breath before adding. “You did good today, It’s… Nice to work with such a skillful hunter again.”  

A compliment..? You had not expected that! You open your mouth to thank him or maybe shrug it off but instead… 

“Do you wan’t to fuck me?”

The dread is washing over you the second the words have left your mouth, the kriff did you just say?! Of course he doesn’t want to do that. Dank farrik, are you really this horny.  

“It’s not going to mean anything.” You quickly add, knowing he doesn’t want it to mean anything. “And I have an implant, so…” 

“Do you want that?” He asks. 

“Yeah, I do.” You confess, there is no take back of your words, so no reason to shy away from it now.  

That is all it takes, his arms coming around your waist, hands grabbing your thighs as he picks you up, carrying you to his room. And, kriff, it’s hot. You feel your stomach clench and a convolution running through your cunt.   

He is removing his armour in a frantic rush, throwing the pieces on the bunk to not let the sound of beskar hitting durasteel floor wake Grogu in the hold. Shoulder armour, thighs panels, wrist gauntlets, chest plate, all gets removed until Mando stands in front of you in only his flight suit and helmet. You’re pulling at your own clothes, stripping down to your underwear. A groan escapes through the modulator of Mando’s helmet by the sight of you.

“You’re still sure you want this..?” He asks, voice deep and husky through the modulator, you can see the hard bulge through the fabric of his flight suit, and kriff, you have never needed anything so badly.

“Yes, Mando I want this.”

“How do you want it?” He asks, stepping close to you gripping your hips with his now ungloved hands, hands you have missed so badly. 

“On my knees, I want you to take me from behind and please don’t be gentle.” 

He executes your request to perfection, fucking you so well and hard that you have to bite down on his pillows to drown out your screams. He had been good back then, always so attentive, making sure you always reached your peak and felt good, but he had also been young and inexperienced, just like you had been. The both of you have grown up, there is nothing inexperienced or soft about what the two of you are doing now.     

The feeling of Mando’s cock filling you is so amazing it has tears pricking at the corner of your eyes. You are so worked up, the adrenalin from the hunt still running through your veins. The angle he’s hitting you with is perfection. You know that this is only sex, you are not like you had been back then, the two of you fucking the adrenaline out of your systems and nothing more. 

Mando groans behind you, hissing filthy praise about how tight you are and how well you take his cock. His grip on your hips tightens as he pushes you back on himself everytime he thrusts into you. 

“Dank farrik, so tight…” He hiss through the modulator of his helmet. “So, kriffin, tight around me.” 

“Fuck, Mando don’t stop! Don’t you dare stop.” You whine into his pillow. 

“Not planning on it, Meshla.” He groans. 

Meshla… The word makes your stomach do a flip and a shiver runs down your spine. He had used to call you that so long ago, used to whisper it so lovingly into the darkness as he kissed you…

It almost throws you for a loop, but Mando’s skilled thrusts bring you back to the present. The sound of his voice and his pounding of his cock is sending you over the edge, making you soak his cock and clench down around him.   

You moan into his pillow, enjoying how much it smells of him as your orgasm makes you tighten around him.  

He moans loudly as he pulls out of you, letting his cum spill all over your ass. Grabbing your cheeks with his broad hands and squeezing down on the plumb skin, smearing his seed further around your ass.    

And that’s it. You both take a short moment to catch your breath and compose yourself and then you leave his bunk, retreating to the fresher to get yourself cleaned up and afterwards locking yourself in your tiny room. You fall asleep almost immediately after your head lands on the pillow, the adrenaline finally gone from your system and your body warned out by the warm shower and amazing orgasm you just had.

Mando fucking your brains out becomes a thing… You continue to avoid each other as much as possible on The Crest, ignoring the other when the sparse space on the ship forces you into the same proximity. But you’re being cooperative and team players on hunts and whenever you come back from one and you have frozen the bounty in the carbonite chamber and put Grogu to bed, you follow Mando into his bunk.   

You don’t let yourself dwell on it too much. Your relationship with Mando is never gonna go back to how it was, you had known a different version of him and you can not let yourself get pulled in again, but the sex is amazing. 

But one hunt changes your new routine. 

Mando had been sliced by one of the Trandoshan bounties vibroblade knives; it had cut him between his armour plates. He had shrugged it off as nothing, but now that you see it in the bright light of the cargo hold after coming back on the ship it’s clear that it’s deeper than you first thought, a wet spot of blood has formed on his flight suit. It is soon clear to you that this isn’t something that can be fixed by a bit of bacta spray.

“Kriff, Mando…” You huff, making him sit down on a crate. “You need stitches.”

“Mhm…” He groans, beginning to stand up.  

“What are you doing?” 

“Going to the fresher to sew this.” He says it matter of factly as he gestures to his side. 

“Sit down, you’re not going to stitch yourself up while I’m here. It’s your face you can’t show, not your body.” You want to add that he has seen you completely naked many times, but you don’t.

“Won’t be the first time I’ve stitched myself up after a hunt…” He gruffs.

You just shake your head at his comment. “Shut up and sit down Mando.” You say as you go to get a first aid kit. 

The armour that covers his torso is gone by the time you come back and he is just about to pull the flight suit down, exposing his upper body for you.   

Golden muscles painted with scars of varying shape and sizes, you struggle to keep your eyes from wandering over his beautiful form. It is not like you haven’t seen a shirtless person before, far from it, but something about seeing him bare in front of you in this context makes your heartbeat a little faster. He removes pieces of his armour for you, making sure the hard metal isn’t uncomfortable when you have sex, but he doesn't strip down for it, never remove his suit. Your face is suddenly feeling warm. There is nothing sexual about this, he is not pounding into you as he groans filth in your ear, it’s just him bare and vulnerable in front of you. His broad chest slowly sinks and rises as you cleanse the cut. His exposed skin is warm under your hands and it suddenly feels like your hands are on fire, you quickly remove them from his skin. 

You rummage through the first aid kit to get the sterile needle and self-dissolving threat, struggling to get the items out of their seals as your usually always steady hands now have begun to slightly shake. You place the blame for your current state on the adrenaline from the hunt which is still rummaging through your body, but the feeling of Mando’s visor on you is suddenly very overwhelming in the sharp light of the cargo hold. You get yourself under control, forcing your hands to steady before you start patching up Mando.       

He doesn’t even flinch as you penetrate his skin. You work quick and precise, finishing up by sealing the wound with a bacta patch.

“Thank you.” His voice is low and slightly shaky.

Something about this feels way more intimate than the nights you come back from hunts and he fucks you and it’s throwing you off.

You decide to not follow him into his bunk tonight…

Days go by, you and Mando are way more civil towards each other, no bickering or harsh looks, but now another tension is in the air between you, one there is ambivalent and hard to describe. Something has changed between you, but you don’t know what. You have not had sex after you stitched him up that night. 

Instead you lock yourself in your room after hunts and every other night for that matter. You can’t help but feel weak under the gaze of his visor. The anger you had felt for him for so many years has slowly faded away. The loss of this anger has given place for something else, and as much as you’re suppressing it, you can’t help but yearn for a future where the two of you could be what you once had been. You wish you could just talk to him. 

A couple of weeks go by like this. 

You’re sitting in your bunk, you have  just come back from meeting with Karga. You don’t know how you feel about this new job you and Mando just have gotten, it’s not your usual mission. You’ll have to infiltrate an exclusive club on Daiyu where a lot of high profiled spice cartel members are hanging out. You really don’t want to do this, but with the pay Karga offered for this particular job done you would be able to buy a new ship, and you couldn’t say no to that. Karga had even offered to look after Grogu while you and Mando are doing the job, since there’s no way you can bring him. 

You don’t like the premise of the mission,but it is too good of an opportunity to say no to. You’ll soon be back on a ship of your own alone and free to do as you please, but for some reason you’re still not happy. You just want to be alone right now but you need to climb up to the cockpit, you’ll soon reach the hyperspace route. 

You sit down in the chair without saying a word, it’s weird to not have Grogu on your lap, already haven gotten so used to it. You know that he is safe with Karga, but you have begun to feel protective of him which isn’t good, you will soon be leaving and the more you bond with him the harder it’ll be to say goodbye. 

You actually stay up in the cockpit after entering hyperspace this time, you have to discuss the plan for the mission with Mando.   

There is no way Mando is going to be able to blend in with his armour, so you decide that you will enter the club by going undercover and he will be sneaking into the back rooms hopefully unnoticed. You have had a few clothing items that could have worked at such a place, but they had all been burned to a crisp with The Lining. Luckily it will be easy to find something for you at a place like Dinyu that will make you blend in at the fancy club. You are also not unaware that your looks have helped you out on mission’s before, many people, criminals included, seem more trusting and willing to put their guards down towards attractive women. You don’t particularly like using your ‘feminine charms’ on missions, but why not use what you got? You are not as big and strong as most of your coworkers and you know it gives results. A fancy looking dress and a little makeup and you’ll probably be able to get into that club without much trouble. In this one occasion you actually have an advantage that Mando doesn’t. 

And you were right in your predictions. It goes smoothly, a bat of your eyelash and a smile and you’re in. You play your part to perfection, you quickly have a good overview of the people present and soon you have spotted the person you had been looking for, a leader of a big cartel that runs on multiple planets. Rukeé Gdaou. You and Mando are not supposed to bring him in, these cartel leaders are way too powerful to be taken down by just two bounty hunters, the entire guild would become a target. But even just the smallest information about the man is worth a lot of money. You had been surprised when you saw a glimpse of him in one of the excluded vip balconies. He is not at all looking like what you had imagined. You had expected a rufflooking mobster, but instead found out he was a gorgeously handsome Togruta, and way younger than you had expected, probably only a few years older than yourself. 

You thought that it would be hard to get to him, since he is such a high profile leader, but you had underestimated how good you look in your new dress. You are being approached by a tall man in all black, giving off bodyguide vibes after only being at the club for around forty five minutes. He is telling you that Mister Gdaou had noticed you in the crowd and would like to invite you up for a drink. You are quick to accept, following the man up the stairs to the excluded area.  

You play your role well, accepting his offer of a drink with a smile. Laughing at the mobsters stupid jokes and sending seductive looks while sipping on your Merenzane Gold. It goes well, you don’t have any reason to think that he has any suspension about you. You don’t get much intel since you have to be very careful with your questions, but you still get some useful information here and there. He has just placed a hand on your exposed thigh, which every instinct in your body tells you to push away but you know you have to keep up the facade, so instead you smile sweetly at him. You’re opening your mouth, getting ready to risk asking something that might lead to some information when the sound of blaster fire is suddenly heard from the dancefloor under you. 

“What the…” Rukée curses under his breath going to the railing of the balcony to look down. “I’ll be back in a moment, just have to check this out.” He tells you, leaving you alone as he brings his bodyguards with him.

That is when a low cough is heard from the shadows and you turn around to see Mando half concealed in the dim light, giving you a sign that he is here and that he is looking out for you.    

You know Mando is good, but damn. So much for the bodyguards and security at these places. 

Rukée reappears. A smile that would have been charming if it wasn’t for the sleaziness that oozes from him, plastered on his sculpted face. 

“I’m sorry about that. I promise that you have my full attention now.” 

He has a sultry glimpse in his eyes that makes stomach turn with disgust. 

“Thank you, I’m very grateful for your attentiveness.” You take a quick glance over at where you know Mando is hiding. 

“Oh, I’m sure you are.” Rukée answers with a humorous look that makes you want to puke. 

“And even though it’s nice up here, why don’t we go somewhere even more private?” He continues placing a hand on the small of your back to guide you towards a private room in the back. 

You open your mouth, but you don’t know what to say. You do not really want to go with him, but it will be a good opportunity to get him to talk some more and you can’t blow your cover now. You had prepared yourself to be in this situation before going into the mission and you’re so close to getting the information you need. You are in the middle of your internal battle when Mando steps out of the shadows.    

“I don’t think that will be necessary.” The tone of which Mando speaks could cut through beskar, and with that your cover is blown. 

The next twenty minutes pass in a blur. A real shootout breaks out, but Mando has got an escape route ready and you manage to both get out of the club unhurt.    

You made it back to The Crest in silence, Mando had turned his visor on you a couple of times but he had not said anything. He finally speaks after you have entered the ship, telling you to go directly to the cockpit since you have to leave the planet immediately. You just nod, and kick off your uncomfortable stilettos, climbing up the stairs to the cockpit ignoring how cold the durasteel floor is under your bare feet. 

You are both quiet doing the take off and the time it takes till you can hit hyperdrive, but Mando finally breaks the silence when the two of you are surrounded by the safety of hyperspace. 

“I’m sorry about what happened… I should have been thinking before I acted, and found a better way to deal with the situation, but he was leading you away and I got scared.” 

He groans, the frustration in his voice is clear. 

“Good Maker, you have no idea how scared you make me Mesh’la!” He says as he drags a hand over his helmet. 

His words confuse you. “I’m scaring you..?”

“Yes, have for years…”

“That doesn’t make any sense Mando.”  

“I wanted to give you everything, you know.” He sighs all anger and frustration now gone from his voice. 

“What are you..?” You begin but he continues. 

“You have no idea of how many times I wanted to take my helmet off in front of you, how many times I was just about to do it. I would have given up everything if you had asked me to Mesh’la. My creed, The Way, everything… You had the power to make me leave it all, and it scared me. I didn’t know how to deal with it so I left. I was selfish and I’m so sorry for hurting you… I’ve broken my creed, taken my helmet off for Grogu, I’m a child of the watch no more.”

He let out a sigh, so desperate it makes your heart clench.

“I never stopped wanting you Mesh’la.”

“Mando, I…”

“Din.” He cuts you off.

“What..?” You mutter.

“My name, my real name, it’s Din… Din Djarin.”

“Din…” You whisper, trying it out on your tongue, loving how it sounds. You feel your eyes getting stingy and your vision getting blurry from tears. You never stopped wanting him either. 

A loud hiss is echoing off the durasteel walls, and before you can registire what’s happening the loud thud of beskar hitting the floor ring in your ears. And there he is in front of you, Din Djarin, the deepest, most soulful brown eyes you have ever seen staring back at you. 

You let out a gasp. He's beautiful. 

“I love you Mesh’la. I’m sorry it has taken me so many years to tell you, and I understand if you-” 

You cut him off, crashing your lips on his, burying your fingers in his fluffy dark hair. He loves you?! You feel how your cheeks are getting wet from the tears that are now freely falling from your eyes. Din is kissing you back with a hunger that has your knees feeling weak  

“I love you too Din.” You whisper against his lips when you finally pull back from his lips for a breath of air. 

You feel the muscles of his arms flex around as he pulls you close against his chest. 

“I’m never letting go of you again, you know? You’re stuck with me now Mesh’la.” 

You inhale his scent, nuzzling your head against his broad chest plate. 

“I think I can live with that.” You happily chuckle. 

“You and Grogu are my everything. You’re the way for me now.”

Looks like you won’t be needing a new ship after all…

#pedrostoriesgift22 #pedrostories #din djarin x reader #din x reader #din djarin smut #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x reader #mandalorian smut #din djarin x female reader #din djarin fanfiction #mando smut #mando x reader #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian #star wars fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal x reader #mandalorian fanfic #mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin

[writeforfandoms]

Simple Gifts

For the @pedrostories​ Secret Santa exchange! 

To my giftee, @ghostofskywalker​ - I hope you enjoy this! I stuffed as much mutual pining into this as I could, with lots of fluff for padding. There may also be a second part to this sometime after the holidays...

This is mostly fluff, and pining, and Din being an awkward man but STILL managing to be charming. Also there are implied time skips in here.

Warnings: Brief mention of violence, swearing, sickening amounts of fluff.

Word count: 2k

Din Djarin x f!reader

In all the years you'd worked on the spaceport, you'd made many friends and acquaintances. Most of them came and went easily. That was kind of the nature of this place. 

But the Mandalorian… that one was different. He was quiet but unfailingly polite. You watched him every time he came in, watched his red armor become dinged up and dented in spots, signs of the battles he'd won. You never asked… but you watched. 

And you always snuck him a little extra, every time. Because the man needed it. 

And he always thanked you. Every time. He always used simple words, but his tone was always genuine. 

Somehow, over time, even just hearing his voice gave you the flutters. 

You hadn't seen the bounty hunter for a while this time. He'd come in, refueled, got more supplies, and was on his way again, as was his habit. There was no way to tell when he'd be back, but there never was. It was only ever chance. 

So you weren't expecting to see the Mandalorian walk into your supply store. You blinked at him - his armor was all silver now, unpainted and shining under the lights. An egg-shaped… thing hovered beside him, and a small green creature looked around curiously. 

"Nice to see you again," you greeted, ignoring the way you warmed. "What do you need today?" 

"Rations, bone broth, instant caf." He looked down at the green creature. 

"You got it." You started gathering up supplies for him, putting them on the counter to tally up his total. You added a few extras for him, too. "Anything else, for either of you?"

He hesitated a moment, helmet dipping briefly to look at the supplies gathered. "Do you have dried meat today?" 

"I do, just got a shipment of bantha." You pulled up a pack to show him, holding it out. "That one's yours, or for your, um…" You trailed off, unsure how exactly to address the green thing. 

"The kid." He looked down at the green thing, helmet as impenetrable as ever. But the line of his shoulders relaxed just slightly. 

"For the kid, then." You smiled at his ease. 

"Thank you." Gloved fingers took the pouch from you, handing it down to the kid. "How much?"

You looked down at his pile and tossed a few more packs of bantha jerky in before naming a price. Less than you'd give anyone else. 

Because you were ever a fool. 

He nodded, a quick dip of his helmet, and credits clinked on the counter. "Thank you." He tipped his helmet to the side just a bit and even though you couldn't tell exactly, you could have sworn that he was staring at you. 

"You need any help?" You offered, because you always offered, even though he had never said yes. 

"No." He gathered up his items, and the child cooed and made grabby hands, despite having a piece of bantha meat in its mouth. "Not for you, kid. Wait." 

Your lips twitched against your will. Another new thing to add to your little hoard of information: the Mandalorian was gentle with this child. Teasing. 

You had always guessed that he was kind, under all that armor and weaponry. 

"Safe travels to you both." You smiled, leaning your hands on the counter. 

Gloved hands paused in his work and his visor whipped up to you again before he nodded to you. Taking the last of his things, he turned and left, and you once again noted the width of his shoulders and the threadbare-looking cape. He walked out, the floating vehicle carrying the child right after him. 

You sighed, a little wistfully, and pillowed your chin on your hand, staring after him. Maybe one day… 

You didn't see either of them for months. When you did, there was no more floating vehicle. Instead, the child was tucked into a bag at the Mandalorian's hip. Mando looked much the same as ever - armor still gleaming silver, cape still fraying along the bottom, still armed to the teeth. 

Still caused your pulse to quicken and your breath to come a little short and your lips to twitch.

“Welcome back,” you greeted, twiddling your fingers at the little one. “What can I get you this time?” 

“The usual.” He stopped in front of the counter, staying quiet as you started to gather things. 

It took no time to gather everything for him, and you snuck in a little sweet treat for the child. 

"Anything else?" You asked, letting him survey the pile. 

He shook his head. "How much?"

Again, you gave him a lower price than you would anyone else. He was a single guardian now, apparently, since he still had the kid with him. He probably needed all the help he could get. 

He left the credits on the counter for you. "Thank you," he murmured, though he didn't immediately go to pick everything up. It only took you a moment to realize why - he couldn't use the bag the child was in, and it would be awkward to carry in his hands. 

"Here." You ducked down briefly to grab a bag, a sturdy thing you'd had for years. 

"You don't have to–" he started, one hand up as if to stop you. 

"I don't mind." You smiled at him, packing the bag quickly and efficiently. "If it makes your life easier, I'm happy to do it. There! Not too heavy, is it?"

His shoulders jumped and what might have been a laugh escaped the helmet. "It's not too heavy," he murmured without even picking up the bag. "Thank you. For this." 

"It is my pleasure." Your smile softened, probably a little wistfully or something equally ridiculous. "Safe travels to you both."

He inclined his head to you, slow and sure, before he picked up the bag and left. The child squirmed around to wave a little hand back at you.

And then they were gone. Again. 

Your shoulders drooped and you leaned on the counter in front of you. Hoo boy. You were in trouble, the way your heart stuttered and leapt at seeing him, the way you always hoped he'd show up. 

Kind of pathetic, really. You'd never even had a proper conversation with him, but you wanted to. Stars, you wanted to. 

Heaving a sigh at your own silly heart, you settled for balancing your accounts again. 

It was pure coincidence that you missed Mando's next visit. You'd been involved in a minor altercation the night before, and had taken the day off to recover and sulk. So your shop was closed for the first time in years when Mando stopped in front of it. His hands clenched at his sides as he read the note pinned to the door, explaining your brief absence. He had half a mind to go find you anyway, but… he restrained himself. The child was gone. He had work to do. He didn't have time to linger about and listen to his heart. (He firmly ignored the fact that listening to his heart had spared Grogu and given him some of the best months of his life.) 

You sighed as you sat on a stool behind the counter. Life Day was fast approaching, and life had sort of shifted to accommodate the holiday. Sure, not everyone celebrated, but you at least liked to put up some lights. 

And this year you had a couple little things squirreled away. Just in case a certain Mandalorian walked in. 

You were just about to give up and call it a day when the door opened. You looked up and blinked. A wide smile stretched your lips without your permission. 

"Well hi there." You stood, heart thrumming in your chest, fingers tingling with nerves. "Nice to see you two again."

The child cooed from where the Mandalorian held him against the armor, a little green hand lifting to wave at you. 

"You are well?" His voice was gruff and a little hesitant, to your surprise. 

"Oh yes, I'm fine." You blinked at him, reflexively reaching under the counter to grab the bag you had ready for him. "Why?"

"There was a note last time I stopped by," he answered slowly, with the faintest hint of… embarrassment? Maybe? 

"Oh. Oh! Yes, that." You looked down, rubbing the back of your neck. "Yes, well. I healed up from that just fine, thankfully." You smiled sheepishly at him. "Guess that'll teach me, huh?"

His free hand reached out, catching your wrist delicately between gloved fingers. You swallowed hard, eyes wide as his thumb traced up your inner arm to the new scar, still shiny, from where you'd been hit with a vibroblade. "What happened?"

You shrugged, feigning casual. "A brawl broke out. I was just trying to protect a kid so they wouldn't get hurt." 

He nodded, though he didn't release you. The air between you grew thick, and you swallowed again. 

But not from fear. 

"I have something for you." You were surprised you got the words out without squeaking. 

"For… me?" He sounded so surprised, clearly not expecting anything. 

"Well, something for you, and something for the kid." You pushed the bag gently across the counter towards him. "The cookies are for the kid, and the toy." 

He pulled out the cookies, and the kid immediately started to babble and reach for the cookies. A soft huff of laughter came from under the helmet and he set the kid on the counter to get to the cookies. The toy was a simple thing, a little loth cat made with some of the softest material you'd ever felt. One hand holding the half of a cookie not stuffed in his mouth, the kid reached over to touch the toy. His eyes got even bigger than before, his ears wiggling. 

Stars but he was too cute. 

"And that last thing is for you." You shifted your weight, consciously stopping yourself from drumming your fingers on the table. You had dithered over what to get him for ages. He already had weapons galore, and more supplies for his long trips just didn't seem right. It felt too normal. 

It was two things, really. The first was a dense spiced cake, just a bit bigger than his fist. The other was a bundle of cloth with heating elements - it got very cold in space, and this type of heated blanket or cloak was not uncommon. 

Mando was quiet as he inspected both items before placing them reverently back in the bag. "Thank you," he murmured, leaning closer to you. 

You warmed at his proximity, fingers drumming against the counter. "It's my pleasure," you said, smiling. You couldn't see him through the helmet but his voice was all the evidence you needed to know he was smiling. 

"Here." He took something from one of the pouches on his person, holding it out to you on an open palm. 

You picked up the comm curiously, glancing at him for clarification. 

"If you ever need help, call me." He nodded to the comm. "That has a link to my new ship. I will respond as soon as I'm able."

Your lips parted in awe. This was no small gift. To have a direct line to a Mandalorian? Especially one like him? It was more than you could have ever hoped for. 

"I… thank you. This is… very kind of you." You glanced at him shyly from under your lashes, fingers closing around your precious gift. 

He inclined his head, his hand settling at the child's side. "And…" He paused, giving you the distinct impression that he was gathering himself for something. He breathed in deeply enough that you watched the chest plate rise with the motion. "It would. I would." He stopped, breathed out hard, and took another deep breath. "My name is Din. Din Djarin." 

"Din," you repeated. "Thank you, Din." 

He nodded and picked up the kid, making sure the cookies also got back in the bag. "Thank you for everything." 

"Take care." You watched the two of them go, some of the lights from the station shining off his armor. Your heart soared as you ran your thumb over the comm, and you tucked it into a pocket for safe keeping. 

Maybe. Just maybe. You had a chance. 

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #f!reader #pedrostoriesgift22 #pedrostories

[psychedelic-ink]

𝑭𝑳𝑶𝑾𝑬𝑹𝑺 𝑻𝑯𝑨𝑻 𝑩𝑳𝑶𝑶𝑴 𝑰𝑵 𝑾𝑰𝑵𝑻𝑬𝑹

pairing: modern!din djarin x f!reader

genre: romance, holiday fic, flowershop au, fluff

word count: 5.4k

summary: A spiteful coworker ruins the flower arrangements you had hoped to compete with. Not knowing what can be done, you entertain a young boy named Grogu who comes in at the same time wanting to buy a bouquet for his father. The next day, Din returns and offers to help you out with your work until a competition. However, he is a bit awkward and clumsy when it comes to love.

warnings: single dad!din, grogu being adorable, so much fluff, me trying to figure out what's it like working at a flower shop

a/n: this is my secret santa gift for @writeforfandoms ! thank you to @pedrostories who hosted the event, I had a blast writing this and I hope you enjoy, happy holidays! ♡♡♡

my prompt was; something soft and sweet - a holiday meet cute, or a holiday date.

You approach the flower shop you work a with a pep in your step. You can see that the windows are decorated with festive wreaths and garlands. The cold winter air nips at your nose as you push open the door, and you're greeted by a warm, cozy atmosphere inside. The shop is filled with the fragrant scent of pine and holly, and there are all sorts of beautiful holiday arrangements on display. You see poinsettias in every shade of red and green, as well as colorful bouquets of winter flowers like amaryllis and paperwhites. you can't help but feel a sense of cheer and joy in the midst of the cold winter season. 

You walk to the back, especially excited to see the holiday arrangements you made for the holiday flower show. You’ve been working on them day and night the past week, honestly, you were kind of proud of them. They truly turned out beautiful, even Cassian himself had said so, and he was one of the best in the business.

With a shudder, you remove your coat and beanie, and you feel a sense of dread wash over you. With horror, you notice that the room is in complete disarray, with flowers and foliage scattered everywhere. You can hardly believe your eyes as you take in the destruction of your beloved arrangements.

The once beautiful display is now a colorful mess. You feel a wave of emotions wash over you - shock, sadness, and anger. The once vibrant and carefully arranged flowers are now a jumbled mess, with petals crushed underfoot and broken stems lying haphazardly on the ground. Your heart sinks as you survey the damage. Kneeling down, you touch the white and pink petals, they’re soft, feeling like silk against your fingertips.  

As you begin to pick up the scattered petals and broken stems, your heart feels heavy. You had put so much time and effort into creating these arrangements, and now they were ruined. As you work to clean up the mess, you try to focus on the task at hand, but your mind keeps drifting back to the destruction. 

You know who’d done it of course. Only three people worked here after all; you, your boss —Cassian, who was out during the time of the crime— and your coworker. Claire. She hated your guts from the start, and her grievances simmered like a fine winter stew each day you worked together. It was her doing. You are sure of it. 

You’ve been waiting to join the show for a good while now. The years before you were either too busy or something came up; last year, during New Year’s you had promised yourself that you would join but apparently, that wish of yours isn’t going to happen. 

You hear soft footsteps, knowing who it is, you don’t look up and scoop up the last remnants of the ripped petals. 

“What happened?” Cassian asks, looking down at the mess. “I was out only for an hour,” 

You scoff, hiding your disappointment by looking down at your hands, “What do you think happened?” 

“I’ll talk to her.” 

“Don’t bother— If you’re not going to fire her, there’s no point in talking.” 

The silence that follows is louder than words. You can’t really blame him for not firing her. Firing Claire meant that her father took away the money he poured into the shop thanks to her daughter working here.

You understand Cassian's predicament, but it doesn't make the situation any easier for you. You feel betrayed and hurt that she would go to such extremes, and it's hard to shake the feeling.

"I'm so sorry," Cassian says, kneeling down next to you. "I had no idea she would do something like this. I'll make it right, I promise."

You shake your head, feeling defeated. "I don't know how you can make this right. The show is in a few days, and all my arrangements are ruined. I won't have time to start over."

"I'll help you," Cassian offers. "We'll work together and create new arrangements. I know it won't be easy, but… We can manage to do this."

You look at Cassian, feeling touched by his words. You appreciate the offer, but you just can't bring yourself to accept it. Your mood has been ruined, and you don't feel up to working on anything new. You shake your head and try to smile, hoping that Cassian will understand.

As you continue to clean up the mess of your destroyed flower arrangements, you hear the sound of the shop's door opening. You look up to see a young boy walking in, a bright smile on his face as he looks around at the various flowers and plants. He must be about five or six years old.

You can't help but smile back at the curious little boy, noting the small patch of green hair peeking out from under his dark brown locks. He looks full of energy and enthusiasm, and you feel a sense of warmth toward him.

"Hello there," you say, trying to keep the conversation lighthearted despite the frustration you're feeling. "Welcome to the shop. Do you need any help? Are you here alone?”

The boy looks up at you, a sheepish expression on his face. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to cause any trouble," he says. "My dad is just next door at the coffee shop. He said I could come in and take a look around while he finishes ordering."

You’re relieved that the boy isn’t completely alone. "Oh, that's alright," you say with a smile.

The boy looks up at you, his big brown eyes shining with excitement. "I'm looking for a special flower for my dad," he says. “A lot of’em.”

You can't help but feel touched by the boy's thoughtfulness. “So, a bouquet then?” you look fondly at Cassian who nods and smiles. 

“What’s your name?” he asks slightly kneeling forward. 

“Grogu,” 

“Alright then Grogu, follow us. We’ll make sure you have something special for your dad,” 

You and Grogu browse the selection of flowers and plants, and you chat about what kind of bouquet would be perfect for his father. You ask about his family, and Grogu tells you that he doesn’t have a mom, your heart breaks at his tone. You can see the sadness in his eyes but don’t pry further. 

Just then, Cassian's phone rings and he excuses himself to take the call. You and Grogu are left alone to continue your flower shopping. Despite the unexpected turn of events, you’re grateful for the chance to spend some quality time with little Grogu. You both continue to chat and browse the selection of plants, getting to know each other better as you go.

As you talk, you’re drawn to the boy's infectious curiosity and enthusiasm. He's full of questions about the different flowers and plants, and you find yourself laughing at his adorable observations.

"Hey, do you think this flower looks like a ballerina?" Grogu asks, pointing to a delicate pink rose.

You can't help but chuckle at the comparison. "I can see it now," you say with a smile. "A little ballerina flower twirling amongst the other blooms."

Grogu giggles, his eyes sparkling with delight. "Yeah, and I bet she's a really good dancer too!" he says.

He's such a sweet and lovable little guy. He’s a little spark of joy after the morning you had. 

Your thoughts briefly drift back to the ruined arrangements that you had worked so hard on. It's hard to push the disappointment and frustration out of your mind, but you know that you need to focus on the task at hand - helping Grogu choose a special gift for his father.

Suddenly, the little boy turns to you with a determined look on his face. "Can I make the flower bouquet myself?" he asks.

You smile at Grogu's enthusiasm and desire to be involved in the process. "Of course, you can," you say with a smile. "I'd be happy to help you put it together."

Grogu beams at you, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "Thank you!" he says.

Grogu starts to put together the flower arrangement for his dad, you can see that he's a little bit unsure of himself. He's not experienced with flowers, and he's a little bit nervous about getting it right. 

Together, you choose a selection of colorful flowers and greenery. You show Grogu how to trim the stems and arrange the flowers in a pleasing way. He listens carefully to your instructions and tries his best to follow along.

The final arrangement isn't the most expertly done, but it's cute and charming. Grogu looks at it with pride and a big smile on his face. "I think my dad will really like it," he says.

Just as you're about to ring up the purchase, Grogu realizes that he doesn't have any money on him. He looks at you with a mix of embarrassment and sadness, and you can see that he's worried that he won't be able to take the flowers home after all.

You hesitate for a moment, considering your options. You know that you’re not supposed to hand out flowers to every kid that wonders inside, but you also can't bear the thought of disappointing Grogu. In the end, you decide to let him take the flowers home with him. You know that you'll find a way to make it work. Honestly, you doubt Cassian will mind anyway.

"Don't worry about it, Grogu," you say, smiling at him. "I'm sure your dad will love the flowers, and that's all that matters. You can pay me back next time."

Grogu's face lights up with gratitude, and he thanks you. You can see that he's truly touched by your kindness, and you feel happy that you were able to spread a little bit of joy.

Just as Grogu is leaving the shop, you see Claire walk in. She looks smug and self-satisfied, and a surge of anger and resentment bubbles inside you. You struggle to keep your emotions in check.

"Hey, looks like someone had a good day," Claire says, eyeing the flowers in Grogu's hand as the boy leaves. "I guess some people just have all the luck."

You can feel your temper rising, and you struggle to keep your voice calm. "Luck had nothing to do with it," you say, trying to keep the sarcasm out of your voice. "Grogu was just a kind, thoughtful kid. Unlike some people, who seem to get their kicks from destroying other people's hard work."

Claire rolls her eyes, looking annoyed. "Whatever," she says. "I don't have time for this. I just came to see if there was anything I could help with."

You can feel your blood boiling, but just then, Cassian comes back into the shop. He looks from you to Claire, sensing the tension in the air. "What's going on here?" he asks, frowning.

"Nothing," you say, shaking your head. "Just a misunderstanding. I think it's best if Claire and I just stay out of each other's way for a while."

Cassian nods, looking relieved. "I think that's a good idea," he says, turning to Claire. "I think it's best if you take the rest of the day off. We'll talk more tomorrow."

Anger crosses Claire’s face, but she nods and leaves the shop without another word. You can't help but feel a sense of satisfaction at the resolution, you take a deep breath and turn to Cassian, grateful.

“Thanks, but you know you’re going to hear an earful from her dad right?” 

“I know,” he answers, exasperated. “I just didn’t have the patience to deal with her. Tomorrow’s Cassian will have to deal with it.” 

It’s a brand new day yet you don’t feel hopeful or renewed at all. Claire is inside working on her own arrangements while you look over the shop. Your mind keeps drifting back to the events of the previous day. You're still angry and you can't shake the feeling of frustration as you go about your work.

You move around the shop, carefully arranging flowers in vases and pots. You start with a bouquet of bright yellow daffodils, adding in sprigs of baby's breath and a few fern fronds for texture. Next, you tackle a vase of deep red roses, interspersing the blooms with sprigs of greenery and a few spiky thistles for contrast.

You admire the vibrant colors and delicate shapes of the flowers. Despite your anger and frustration, you find a sense of calm in the repetitive, soothing motions of flower arranging.

Suddenly, the bell above the door jingles, and —what you assume— a customer enters the shop. You put on a smile and turn to greet them, trying to push your anger to the back of your mind as you prepare yourself to help them. 

“That’s her daddy. She’s the one that helped me!” 

Your eyes drop down at the voice, you see Grogu from yesterday, his smile is wide as he points at you, his other hand nestled within a much larger one that clearly doesn’t belong to him. 

Your gaze slowly lifts from the child, and you are met with the sight of a man whose features are both rugged and refined. Confidence and charm exude from his face, and his dark, expressive eyes seem to speak to your very soul. His smile, warm and genuine, lights up his entire being.

"Hello," he says, his voice deep and rich. "Grogu told me about yesterday. I'm sorry if he caused you any kind of trouble."

You shake your head violently, your cheeks are uncomfortably warm and at the same time cold. You compose yourself with a deep breath. “He wasn’t any trouble at all, really— In fact he improved my day a long shot,” 

“That’s good to hear,” he says. 

His lips are parted as if he’s about to say more but Grogu peels his tiny hand away from his father’s and runs towards you. You look down, shocked, and raise your hands, not really knowing what to do with them. Hesitantly, you meet the man’s gaze and he softly nods, only then do you softly touch the young boy’s back, giving him a hug. 

“He also told me that he couldn’t pay when we reached home,” he continues a hint of annoyance surfacing mid-sentence. He stuffs his hands into the pockets of his jacket. He takes a step forward. “It’s a bit late but I would like to pay for it. They were lovely,” 

“Oh,” you stare at him wide-eyed, Grogu looks up at you with a smile. “Well—Thank you for offering but there’s no need. I’m glad you enjoyed them, Grogu made it,” 

“With your help,” the child says, tiny brows furrowing. “We did it together!” 

“Yes, yes we did,” you chuckle, patting him on the back. He moves away from you and starts to observe the arrangements you made. 

“That’s very kind of you but I should pay,” he says stepping forward his hand mid-pulling out his wallet. “How much do we owe you— Grogu don’t mess up the flowers,” 

When you turn you see Grogu looking at his father like a dear in headlights, the tips of his fingers touching one of the daffodils. Looking embarrassed, he pulls back his hand and gives you an apologetic look. 

But that’s not what you’re thinking about at all. You’re thinking about the way the man’s voice changed, the strictness of it, a shudder rolls down your spine and heat settles at your tailbone. You swallow. 

“Like I said it’s okay,” 

Din's eyes linger on you, taking in your earnest expression and the way your hands remain raised, refusing payment. After a moment, he gives in, sighing and stuffing his wallet back into his pocket. 

"Let me at least buy you coffee," Din says, a smile stretching into a grin as he sees the shock on your face. "My name is Din by the way," he adds, extending his hand toward you. "Nice to meet you."

You introduce yourself and give his hand a firm squeeze, feeling the strength and warmth of his grasp. Din's smile is infectious, and you find your own lips curving upwards in response.

“I need to drop off Grogu now, but how about I meet you here in about an hour? Would you be free then?” 

Your eyes move towards the hallway that leads to the room Claire is making her arrangements in, you nod without a second thought. Cassian owes you a favor anyway. 

You and Din sit near the window of the cozy coffee shop. The winter air outside is crisp and cold, but inside, the shop is warm and inviting. The scent of freshly brewed coffee and baked goods fills the air, and you can't help but breathe in deeply, savoring the rich, comforting aroma.

The shop is bustling with activity, and the sound of laughter and conversation fills the air. The walls are adorned with warm, cozy blankets and colorful throw pillows, creating a sense of comfort and hominess. The light from the large windows filters in, casting a soft, golden glow on everything it touches.

You sit and sip your coffee, you listen enthusiastically to what Din has to say. It’s already been an hour since you came in and neither of you shows no signs of wanting to leave. As expected of him, Din talks a lot about Grogu, which makes you smile widely. You also learn that he’s quite the skilled man, he tells you how he enjoys model building and how he might have a bit of an addiction to legos. You say that you’re the same with plants, your home basically a greenhouse with how much flora you have. 

He briefly mentions the passing of Grogu’s mother but before you can say anything he takes a bite of his muffin and directs a question at you. 

“So, what’s your story? Did you always want to work at a flower shop?” 

You take a moment to gather your thoughts, wrapping your hands tightly around the mug of coffee as you consider Din's question. You relish the warmth of the mug, letting it seep into your bones. He crosses his legs and leans against the window, his demeanor much more relaxed now. 

“I mean, I know you like plants, but that’s a bit different from making floral arrangements isn’t it?” 

"I started working at the flower shop when I was desperately searching for a job," you answer, turning back to Din. "The flower shop was hiring. I wasn't sure if I would enjoy it at first, but I ended up loving it. There's something so satisfying about it that stuck with me. I’ve been working with Cassian ever since."

Suddenly, the sound of a ringing phone interrupts your conversation. You reach into your pocket and pull out your phone, glancing at the screen before answering. It’s Cassian, you already have an inkling of what’s going on.

"Hello?" you say, your voice a little bit louder than it was before. "Oh, hey. Yeah, I'm at the coffee shop. What's up?"

“I’m sorry but I need you to come back,” his modulated voice reaches you. “I—Well—Claire is occupied, she’s saying she can’t have her flow of inspiration be cut,” 

“I hear you loud and clear,” you sigh, once again reminded of your own ruined chances of joining the competition. “I’ll be right there,” 

After a few minutes, you end the call and turn back to Din with an apologetic expression. "I'm sorry about that," you say. "I have to go."

Din nods, "Of course," he says. "I hope everything is okay."

“Well…more or less,” 

“We can…” he takes a sharp breath and continues. “We can talk about it if you want to—I don’t want to pry, of course, but I just thought I should ask,” 

You hesitate for a moment, considering Din's offer. You usually don't open up to people about your dreams and struggles, but for some reason, you feel like you can trust him. There's something about Din that makes you feel safe and understood, and you find yourself wanting to confide in him.

"Well, I actually wanted to join the local holiday flower show," you say, your voice low and hesitant. "But my co-worker —her name is Claire— destroyed them but nothing can be done because of her dad’s influence on the shop and now she gets to work on her own arrangements and I’m being beckoned to look over the shop because she doesn’t want her—"you make quotation marks with your fingers. “—flow of inspiration be cut.”

Din nods, a sympathetic expression on his face. "Are you still going to compete?” 

"I don't know," you say, feeling a sense of frustration bubble up inside of you. "I'm just so agitated right now. And I don't think I'll be able to get everything together in time for the competition even if I tried."

Din's expression turns to one of concern. "You can't give up just because of a shitty co-worker—Sorry for swearing but—" he says adding the second part with haste, his voice laced with a hint of anger. "Your co-worker shouldn't have destroyed your arrangements like that. You have to keep going and not let her hold you back."

Before you can say anything he raises his hand, his brows furrowed. 

“I’ll help you,” he says. “We can make it together.” 

“W-Wait, what?” you blink in shock. “You would really do that?” 

"Of course. Besides It's no problem," he says. "I'm happy to help. And I have a feeling that we're going to make an amazing team." when you stare at him, unsure, he winks and takes another sip of his coffee. “Besides, I owe you for the bouquet.” 

You and Din are huddled over a table covered in flowers and supplies, focused on creating the perfect arrangements for the competition. You can feel the tension between you, but it's a good kind of tension. You're both nervous and excited, and you keep stealing glances at each other as you work.

"Okay, so I think we should start with this bouquet of roses," you say, holding up a bundle of deep red flowers. "We can add in some baby's breath for texture, and maybe some fern fronds for a pop of green."

As you reach for a pair of scissors, your hands brush against each other, and you feel a jolt of electricity run through your body. You pull back quickly, feeling heat rise to your cheeks.

Din seems to feel it too, and you see a hint of a smile on his lips. "Yeah, that sounds good," he says, his voice low. "I think we should also mix in some of these daisies for a bit of contrast."

You grin at him, trying to play it cool despite the flutter in your chest. "That's a great idea," you say, your voice a bit unsteady. "And we could add in some spiky thistles for a bit of edge."

Din chuckles, his eyes lighting up with amusement. "Thistles? Are you trying to kill me?" he asks, playfully swatting at your hand.

Your laughter fills the air, a melody of joy and surprise. You never expected to get along so well with Din, but the connection between you seems almost magical. As you work side by side, you can't help but wonder if there's something deeper, something that goes beyond. Could it be love blooming between you, like the flowers you tend with such care? The thought makes your heart flutter.

As you gently weave the flowers together, your hands accidentally meet, a spark igniting between you. You gaze into each other's eyes, and in that moment, you feel like the world falls away. You're drawn towards Din, an undeniable pull that makes your lips tingle with anticipation. But just as you lean in, he breaks away, licking his lips and looking uncertain. You withdraw as well, your heart racing, wondering if you were just imagining things.

Just then, Cassian enters the shop, and you introduce him to Din. You mention that Din is Grogu’s father and Cassian’s eyes lit up when he remembers the young boy from the days before.

"I'm so glad to see you two working together," Cassian says. "And I'm happy that you're going to compete in the flower show. I honestly believe you’re the best one to win, "

Cassian heads inside and you turn to Din, explaining to him that the shop has been struggling lately and that the money from the competition could help. You also mention how Claire's father has been causing problems for Cassian, and how you're hoping to find a way to deal with it. The money might help, you add.

Din listens attentively, "I'm here to help in any way I can," he says, squeezing your hand. "We'll figure it out together."

You and Din work on the arrangements. A sense of ease and comfort in each other's company. As you carefully place the flowers in a vase, Din speaks up.

"I haven't felt this way in a long time," he says, his voice thick with emotion. "Ever since Grogu's mother passed away, I've been so focused on him that I haven't really allowed myself to think about anything else."

You look at Din, your heart filled with compassion. "I'm so glad that Grogu came into the shop that day," you say, surprised at how soft, and sincere you sound. "I'm glad that we got to meet."

Din smiles at you. "Me too," he says. "I feel like I'm finally starting to come back to life."

You both continue working on the arrangements, you're falling for Din, and you can tell that he feels the same way—At least, you hope that he does. 

When the two of you are finally done, you glance at one another. But just as you're lost in each other's gaze, Din trips and falls, his arms flailing as he tries to catch himself. You try to catch him too, but he ends up pulling you down with him, and the two of you tumble to the ground in a heap.

You both lay there, laughing and trying to catch your breath. 

“Whoops,” he says, his hands secured on your hips. “Are you okay?” 

“Vey much so,” you grin. “What did you even trip on?” 

“I honestly have no idea,”

-Din gathers his things and gets ready to leave, you walk him to the door. The air outside is cold and crisp, and the snow is falling gently from the sky. You breathe in the winter air, relishing in the crispness of it.

"The competition is tomorrow morning," you say, your voice filled with anticipation. "I just wanted to thank you again for all your help. I couldn't have done it without you."

Din smiles at you, his eyes shining with warmth. "It was my pleasure," he says. "I'm just glad I could be of help."

As he turns to leave, you feel like he’s slipping from your fingers, for some reason you’re convinced that if he leaves now you’ll never see him again. You're not ready for him to go—With a boldness that surprises even you, you lean forward and give him a quick peck on the cheek.

The touch of your lips on his skin sends shivers down your spine. Din's eyes widen in surprise, and he licks his lips nervously.

"I-I should go," he stammers, fingers brushing where you kissed. "I'll see you tomorrow."

And with that, he turns and walks away, leaving you standing at the door, your heart racing with excitement and anticipation for what the future might bring.

The morning air is crisp and invigorating as you and Cassian make your way to the competition. 

Your senses are overwhelmed by the sight and smell of all the beautiful flowers on display when you enter the room. You see rows of vibrant bouquets and intricate arrangements, each one more stunning than the last. 

Your eyes wander across the seats, feeling slightly disappointed when you don’t see Din there. You had hoped that he would be here with Grogu, but it seems like he got preoccupied with something else. 

Despite this, you refuse to let it get you down. You focus on your own arrangements, determined to give it your all. You can see Claire setting up her flowers on the other side of the room, a smug smile on her face. You can't wait to show her that you're not going to be held back by her petty actions.

The judges slowly make their way around the room, you feel your nerves start to build.  Claire looks at you with annoyance as the judges approach her table, and you can't help but feel a sense of satisfaction as you watch her fidget nervously.

The judges finally reach your table, you hold your breath and watch as they carefully inspect your arrangements. You can't gather anything from their expressions, but you try to keep a positive attitude. You glance over at Cassian when one of them reaches out and touches one of the roses, he gives you a reassuring thumbs up. You feel your chest tighten with hope and anticipation as the judges move on to the next table.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, the judges make their way back to the front of the room to announce the winners. You cross your fingers and hold your breath as the first-place prize is announced.

As the judges are about to speak, you see Din and Grogu slip into the room and take a seat next to Cassian. Din catches your eye and gives you a smile, and for a moment, it feels like the rest of the room disappears and it's just the two of you. Your heart races as Din's piercing gaze meets yours, and the air between you crackles with electricity.

You can feel your body responding to Din's presence, you can't help but be drawn to him. His rugged features and piercing eyes captivate you, and you can't help but wonder what it would be like to feel his lips pressed against yours, to be enveloped in his embrace. The judges' voices fade into the background as you are lost in a haze of possibility and hope, knowing that, with Din by your side, anything is possible.

But before you can fully process this moment, the judges announce the winner. When they announce your name, the crowd cheers and you feel every muscle in your body going limp with shock, your lips parting wide with a sharp gasp. But as you accept your prize and look back up, you see that Din has vanished, leaving Grogu holding Cassian's hand. Cassian, understand what you’re asking immediately, points towards the door.

You quickly make your way toward the exit, when you step outside, the cold winter air bites at your skin, but you hardly notice. You're too focused on the man in front of you, the one who has captured your heart and your soul.

Din stands before you, his eyes shining with pride and love. "I'm so happy for you," he says, his voice filled with emotion. "You deserve this victory."

“I couldn't have done it without you,” 

“Do you think I have a career in flower arrangements?” 

You chuckle, lips curved as you gaze at him, “Maybe, you want me to put in the word to Cassian?”

Much to your surprise, he wraps one arm around your waist, pulling you flush against his body. Din teases you to look up by wiggling his eyebrows. Confused, you look up only to see that he's holding a sprig of mistletoe over your head, a hint of crimson on his cheeks.

"A bit lame, I know," he says, trying to play it cool. "But I couldn't think of anything else to do."

You grin at Din, every nerve in your body singing with delight. You can't resist the opportunity to show him just how much he means to you. You lean in and give him a soft, lingering kiss, feeling his strong arms wrap around you as he returns the gesture with equal enthusiasm.

Din seems a bit surprised at first, but then he holds you tight and the two of you stand there in each other's embrace, the world around you melting away. You feel like you're floating on air, lost in the magic of the moment.

Eventually, you reluctantly pull back, your lips still tingling with the memory of the kiss. You can't help but laugh at the absurdity of the situation, feeling giddy and lightheaded with happiness. You've always been a bit of a romantic, and Din seems to have caught on to that. You can't wait to see what the future holds for the two of you. With Din by your side, anything seems possible.

#pedrostoriesgift22 #pedrostories #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #din djarin x y/n #din djarin x f!reader #modern!din #flowershop au #the mandalorian au #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian fic #the mandalorian fanfic #pedro pascal character #pedro pascal character fic #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

[frannyzooey]

Huge thank you to @pedrostories for hosting this incredible event — I can’t imagine the work and organization that went into it, and I am so thankful for you all!

This is a @pedrostories Secret Santa gift for the wonderfully kind @meandorla ❤️

I hope you don’t mind that I went through your blog and borrowed some of your beautiful photographs for this banner and for the story. I tried to match the aesthetics of your blog to the story and your prompt, and I hope you like it!

Din Djarin x f!reader

Rating: Mature, soft af

He moved in on a spring day — buds of new beginnings on the trees, the grass barely peeking green on the sloped hills. The air was crisp, refreshing against your cheeks when you walked over to greet him.

“Din,” he replied when you offered your name and then your hand, and when he shook it, you made a mental note about the ease in which he transferred the box he was holding from two hands to one.

His curls were wayward, unlike his gaze, which rested squarely on you. His dark brown strands ruffled gently in the breeze, the chestnut highlights picked up by the sun matching the ones in his eyes and when you smiled, he answered with a smaller one of his own.

Had you known that your words of welcome would be the few that you would say to him for months, you would have chosen them more carefully.

Close mouthed, Din wasn’t quite silent but not talkative either. The little interaction you had with him showed him careful with his words, as if speaking too many of them revealed too much and given that your schedules didn’t line up either, you found it hard to get to know him. Eventually, your self doubt assumed his lack of attempts to engage you in conversation were a sign that he didn’t like you. When it carried on that way for months, you took that to mean he actively disliked you.

You caught glimpses of him around: at the small shop in town, when he left in the morning for work, in the fields behind his house as he worked the soil — a weight of disappointment settled heavy in your chest every time you saw him after that, your imagined assumptions taking root.

The heat of that summer was just as stifling as your ache for him; your fingers longed to touch those silky curls.

“Just go talk to him,” your friend urged you for the millionth time over the phone as you sat curled on your couch; the crackling fire in the hearth warming the room and your feet. The first frost had appeared overnight, the sky descending in darkness earlier and earlier.

“I don’t know.” You looked outside into the night, towards his house. A square of light shone across the street, the glow a pictured frame surrounded by the dark and you willed him to walk past it, just to get a glimpse of him.

He didn’t, and you sighed.

“You’ll never know if you don’t try,” she said. “He could be over there, thinking about you for all you know.”

“Doubt it,” you replied.

Still, your heart leapt at the thought.

–

A sickness was what brought you together. A simple cold, one that lingered for days and he ended up knocking on your door to make sure everything was alright. He had noticed that you had a couple of packages outside your stoop; a white dusting of powdered snow covering them. It was unlike you not to shovel.

When you answered, he frowned at your appearance.

“Are you okay?” he asked in his concerned, direct way.

When you cinched your robe at the waist before reaching for the boxes, he offered to bring them inside for you. Once placed on your table, he turned and asked where your shovel was. Peering from the window, you watched him clear the path in brisk, efficient scoops and an hour later, he knocked on your door again. His curls damp with flakes of snow, his cheeks flushed with the cold under his sparse beard and in his hands, a pot.

Just like that, he was saying more than he ever had in words.

“I thought this might help?”

Letting him in and watching him get the soup settled on your stove, you asked him to stay and join you, preparing yourself for a no.

He flashed a dimple that you didn’t know he had; a new secret of his revealed.

“Sure. I’ll grab another bowl.”

–

One night turned into two, turned into four and pretty soon that close mouthed man was talking to you more than you had ever hoped.

Still, more often in actions than words, but when he did speak, you found him to have a quick humor, a dry down to the bone sort of sarcasm that you loved. He was an intent listener, his eyes tracing your every feature as you spoke as if they held the secret meaning to your words.

His face, in turn, was an open book when he really let you look at him and you loved the different shades of his eyes: warm in the sunlight of the afternoon, dark in the dim light of the evening, pitch black in the darkness of your living room just before he leaned in for a kiss.

A testing press of his mouth against yours, firmer when his hand cupped the nape of your neck to pull you closer and that same gray couch where he had first sat amongst your piles of crumpled tissues and a nest of blankets was where he laid you back into the cushions, settling himself solid and reassuring over you as he made space for himself between your thighs.

The want you had been feeling for months came back tenfold, thrumming through your veins and pouring out in the eagerness of your touch; your fingers finally pushing through those dark curls. You opened your mouth to let the slide of his tongue in, your thighs pressing tight around his torso and when he pulled back with a groan to peel your clothing off one piece at a time, you never felt as beautiful as you did then, bare on that couch.

He knelt on the floor between your thighs, his mouth just as worshipful as his hands, and you had arched into the slick, skillful warmth of it, crying out his name when he brought you to your peak. You had led him to your room after that, wanting nothing more than to map the planes of his body with your hands.

You did, taking your time touching what you had only dreamed of for months and he made sure you knew how beautiful he thought you were too by the end of the night, not stopping until you both fell asleep from sated relief.

–

Morning came; a soft shaft of light illuminating your thin curtains. A cold blanket of white outside; a soft comforter of heat in. He held you to his chest as he watched you sleep, and traced the line of your eyebrow delicately with the side of his thumb, quietly reveling in your softness:

Your hair, your skin, your scent, the cloud of your bed.

Your thighs, your sighs, your plush lips when they brushed against his.

Your steady, slow breathing.

Your smile, when you woke.

–

Thinking back to your first few months, you thought it was funny now to think you ever thought he was indifferent when every one of his actions had always said the opposite. You see now that he loves you with a fierceness that’s transparent in all he does. If you’re watching closely, his displays of devotion are endless:

His hold; reassuring and solid.

Making you dinner; his low laugh, the dark curls at the nape of his neck; his broad back facing you..

Shoveling your walk; the efficient push of his shovel, his coat dusted with snow, the white puffs of his breath.

Caring for you, in whatever way you need him to; his careful listening, his validating words, his husky, low reassuring praise.

In the bed you share; his hands guiding you, worshiping you, the delicate, warm heat of his mouth on your skin as he fills you until you break.

His always direct words, when he cups your face and looks you straight in the eye.

“You are so beautiful.”

He says the statement constantly, as if it’s a fact of life that he knows and you don’t, but eventually he says it enough that you start to believe it. You had always felt like a burden to the ones that came before, but not with him. Never with him.

He came that night and stayed — something you didn’t think he would ever do, and it’s like your friend had been right all along. Like he had been waiting for you just like you had been waiting for him; your living room window a beacon of light in the darkness as he sat, just waiting for you to pass by.

gif by @anakin-skywalker ❤️

Merry Christmas my lovely! ❤️

#pedrostories #pedrostoriesgift22 #din djarin #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #din djarin/you #din djarin/reader #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #pedro pascal

[lavendertales]

Silent night—Javier Peña x f!reader

summary: it’s Javier’s first time spending the holidays with his family back in Laredo, years after his mother’s passing, and it turns out to be a more difficult time to navigate than he would’ve thought. 

word count: 1.8k

A/N: this angst/comfort prompt is my @pedrostories​ Secret Santa gift for the lovely @pedrito-friskito​. Hope you like it and happy holidays! ❤️

gif: @bestintheparsec 

Everyone who’s gotten the opportunity to be close enough to Javier knows that Christmas isn’t his favorite holiday. Not even by far.

It used to be; when he was a little boy, that is. He is no longer a boy though. Rather a man with questionable baggage and lots of scars.

However, he agreed to return to Laredo for Thanksgiving and leave a few days after New Year’s, only because his father Chucho insisted it was long overdue for spending the holiday season with the whole family. That meant a lot of food, noise, endless and incessant questions about his life, both professional and private, and Javier detested that.

As it turned out, his love for his father went beyond the irritation and pain the holiday season caused him. And Chucho wasn’t the sole reason for his visit.

You and Javier go a long way back. You’ve actually grown up together, but as life pushed you in separate directions, you’ve lost contact. Whenever he visited Chucho, you caught glimpses of him, the rugged and grumpy DEA agent that helped put an end to the Medellin and Cali cartels. You couldn’t even imagine the horrors he was seeing on a daily basis, and yet you couldn’t help but admire him from afar. Time had clearly been generous to him. But you never dared dreaming he’d ever be interested in little life you.

You never left Laredo. You were teaching kindergarten and you were so content with your life that actually being with Javier Peña never crossed your mind. He’s probably been with countless exotic beauties, and you had nothing on them.

But apparently, you were wrong.

Because now, six months later since Javier’s first and final arrival to Laredo, he and you were something of an item, going on actual dates and spending time together like a real couple, and it still managed to blow your mind. Mostly because Javier was a tough nut to crack.

You never pushed him to reveal anything he didn’t want to. You were patient and kind and curious, all at the same time, and Javier appreciated that tremendously. He was not a man of many words, but he showed you gratitude and care in plenty of other ways: buying you flowers, driving you home from work, and simply spending time with you. And you learned to know that was Javier’s love language, acts of service.

And of course, physical touch.

He didn’t hesitate in holding your hand, caressing your cheeks, holding your waist close to him and touching you in the softest, yet most surefire ways you could’ve ever imagined. Now, he respected your personal space and didn’t push you in his pursuit for intimacy, but he sure knew how to push all the right buttons and tease you just enough to have you craving more, curious as to how he would feel, how he would sound.

But it had to wait. You’ve never seen him gloomier and more distant than now.

It’s Christmas Eve, and all of his relatives are spread across the house, sharing stories, drinking eggnog or munching on food. But Javier sits by the window with his whiskey, eyes locked on the dark sky. You approach him carefully as if you were approaching a deer.

“Are you okay?” you ask, rubbing your hand gently across his back.

Javier takes another sip, still not looking at you.

“I know this is not your favorite holiday,” you coo.

“It used to be.”

“Then… what happened?”

You knew what happened. Everyone close to the Peñas knew what happened. But you still asked because you were unsure if that particular event had really impacted Javier that much to the extent of hating a holiday.

“I haven’t been home for the holidays since she died,” Javier coos, his tone grave and filled with pain.

And there is your answer.

“It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?” you ask sweetly.

Javier nods, finally facing you as he finishes his whiskey and pours himself more.

“I couldn’t come back here after she was gone,” he admits. “I’ve always had an excuse. College, work, avoiding death, you know.”

“Sure, sure.”

“Guess this was overdue though.”

“How are you feeling?”

You rub his back, watching his face closely. He is a tough nut to crack, but when you break through, there is no telling what you will find. More often than not, Javier has turned out to be a very sensitive person, but he’s been stuck in a longtime pattern of bad habits, all in order to survive.

“To be honest, it’s hitting a little harder than I thought,” he admits.

“Can I do anything to help?”

It’s then that Javier reaches for your hand, squeezing it at his chest and flashing a bittersweet smile.

“It’s enough having you here,” he says, leaning down to kiss your cheek.

The skin where his lips pressed turns red, and you try to hide it beneath your hair.

“Do you want to talk about her? About Christmas with your family when you were a kid?”

Javier falters. In the back of his mind, he doesn’t really want to. He never spoke about his mother with anyone. But he feels that the time he’s spent bottling up his emotions and intentions hasn’t done him much good. Perhaps a change would be good.

And who better to start with than with you, the most wonderful person he’s ever known?

“She always made dad dress up as Santa to share presents to all of us kids,” Javier chuckles, fondly reminiscing of all those chaotic Christmas morning with the grumpiest Santa Claus he’s ever seen. “He hated the beard and everything, but he still did it. Partially cause he was afraid of mom, I think.”

You smile.

“We open the gifts, gather around for breakfast… we asked for cookies and milk till they got tired of us and finally agreed we could all have one. Of course afterwards we’d sneak into the kitchen to have more and get caught. But mom never yelled or got upset. She was always—“

“What?”

Javier stands there in silence, the images of his happy childhood so vivid before his very eyes that he might just tear up. Wouldn’t you know it, a couple of tears do sting his eyes, but they don’t roll down his stubbled cheeks.

“She was always the best,” he finishes, putting down his glass.

He finally allows the sadness that’s been simmering in his veins to tip over, thus filling his whole chest, and then his whole being. It overwhelms him, surrounds him in a cold, wet blanket almost that lies heavily on his shoulders.

You inch closer to him, enough for you to wrap your arms around his body and hug him tightly. Javier reciprocates instantly, his bigger arms around you like vines, his head on your shoulder. He’s never felt care quite like this, so sincere and pure in its very simplicity.

“Hey, if you need a break or want to go away for a little while, we can go for a walk or something,” you suggest, fingers curled in his hair.

Javier hums softly, clearly very comfortable in the hug. The thought alone makes you smile. Knowing you can bring some comfort to the inner turmoil that Javier has to go through on a daily basis is the best Christmas gift you can think of.

“I’m okay,” he tells you.

He smiles at you, forehead stuck to yours. For one moment in time, he feels like none of his relatives are around, like it’s just you and him there.

“I miss her a lot,” he adds, and you detect the pain in his voice.

“I know.”

“When she got sick, for months she’d beg me to take pictures of all the events in my life, of whatever had my interest so she could see them. I thought it was silly and told her I’d rather spend my time with her in that hospital room. Then she was gone, and there were no pictures. We didn’t even take a picture on our last Christmas together. Dad insisted, but I said no. Can’t even look at those anymore. Or take any.”

You don’t say anything to that. You simply hold him—or rather let him hold you, based on the difference in your bodies’ height and mass. You know Javier is a man fond of silence, so you grant him at least that on this tumultuous Christmas Eve.

“Thank you,” Javier says all of a sudden.

“For what?”

“For being here. Makes it all easier. More bearable.”

You smile, pecking his lips. “I’m glad I can be here for you.”

“Okay, gather ‘round, it’s picture time!”

The voice of Javier’s aunt Cecilia rings in your ears, and you look around panicked as everyone makes a fuss over picture time. You sneak a glance at Javier, noticing the change in his facial expression gone from fondness to discomfort, and you take his hand into yours, trying to grab him away.

“Where are we going?” he asks, dumbfounded.

“How about that walk?

Javier sports another bittersweet smile in your direction, guiding you back into the living room where everyone else is gathering.

“You said—“you begin.

“I know. But like I said, having you here makes it all bearable. And I think you’d look good in our family picture.”

Your heart flutters in your chest, your cheeks are flushed with the auburn scorch of flattery—and more.

You don’t tell him that, though. Not yet.

“What if we break up and then I’ll forever be in your family’s pictures?” you can’t help but ask.

“It’ll give me an excuse to look at our pictures. And what if we don’t break up?”

You chuckle, this time you being the one to squeeze his hand.

“Are you two ready?” Aunt Cecilia asks.

“I guess we are,” you concur.

“We are.”

Javier’s voice is confident, bulletproof, and it makes you even more secure in the knowledge that you are, in fact, in love with him.

But that’s for another time, when you can enjoy some privacy.

For now, you settle to pose for the Peña family photo, with Javier’s arm around your waist. At the very least, knowing you could help him come to terms with his mother’s absence on his favorite holiday and have a certain closure makes this moment all the more special.

It marks this as the first Christmas in Javier’s adult life.

#pedrostories #pedrostoriesgift22 #Javier Peña #Javier Peña x reader #Javier Peña x you #Javier Peña fanfiction #Javier Peña fic #Javier Peña fluff #javier pena #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena fic #javier pena fluff #narcos fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fluff

[artemiseamoon]

How about you and me

Secret Santa fic for @din-jarhead | I hope you enjoy it. This was fun to write.

Frankie Morales x Reader (f) | friends to lovers

Words: 3,840 | A03

Warnings: disappointing sexual and dating history, p in v unprotected sex scene.

About: After a bad run of dates and getting fed up with the whole thing, you vent to your best friend Frankie (who you secretly love). He has a few ideas how to improve your situation.

An: fic is from readers POV mainly and the intro is Frankie’s. As always, no one reader will fit all (example - say the things you’d say) so you can read as an Oc if you prefer.

* since this is a gift fic for secret Santa i have posted in full*

Frankie kept his feelings to himself for a list of reasons, his career being number one.

Frankie has seen too many times what this work does to relationships. He knows firsthand. He did not want that with you - he’d never forgive himself if he messed it all up with you.

It's better this way, or so he tells himself, loving you secretly while being your best friend.

But now that he’s recently retired, and seeing you face constant disappointment in love and sex, Frankie thinks it’s time to speak up and give the possibility of you and him a chance.

✨✨✨

Thursday night

Humming contently, you relax against the red cushion of the diner booth. Before the sound fully leaves your lips, Frankie is already holding back a laugh as he chews his food.

“What?” You asked once you swallowed.

“All these years later, that's still your favorite thing on the menu.” He sits up, placing his elbows on the table across from you. “You still make that sound.”

“How observant of you,” you wink at him, then grab your glass of water. “You making fun of me?”

“No, it's cute.” He replies before taking another bite of his sandwich.

You and Frankie have been coming here for years. It’s become one of your places, and the times you’ve been here without him always feel weird.

Earlier that day, Frankie texted you and asked if you were free tonight. It was a light day at the garage, and he finished all his projects early. You happened to be off, even though you usually work on Thursdays, so the two of you decided to meet up for dinner, ‘at our spot’, as Frankie calls it.

You love the garage for him. It started as a passion project in between jobs. Once he retired, Frankie spent time trying to figure things out and ended up back at a garage. Now he owns it, and he’s much more relaxed than he used to be. It gave him something to do, something he cares about, and as his best friend, it's a pleasure to see him enjoying this stage of his life.

Cars, garages - all that may not be your forte, but you do enjoy visiting him and usually hang out with him after work, sometimes helping at the counter if he and the guys are busy. Your favorite part is watching him work, and when he catches you looking, you usually wink or make a silly face that brings a smirk to his lips.

You cover up what's really happening inside of you with humor and silliness but underneath, you are still madly in love with your best friend and watching him work is like an aphrodisiac. Not that you’ll tell him that.

…

There are many reasons you and Frankie love this place, and you have endless memories here. Sitting in this booth most of the time, number 4.

Memories of you meeting after exciting life events, less-than-exciting ones; memories of you running inside to meet him once he was home after missions. That one time you nearly ran the waitress over to get to him.

After dinner, you shared a dessert and ordered some drinks. As the night goes on and groups of people leave, their seats filled once more by others, you and Frankie remained in your own little world.

At one point, you headed outside to the patio. It’s a nice night out, and once the diner filled up, you and he both eyed the doors without words. It’s another thing you adore about him, that silent language between you, it’s a rare thing.

…

An hour passes, and the second round of drinks is in your hands. You and Frankie are seated on a bench on the far left of the patio, cute led lights decorate the wooden fence as the music from outside dances in the air.

When your phone buzzed, you and he were in the middle of laughing about something. Frankie's thigh touched your own as you huddled together on the bench.

With a sign, you dig into your pocket and pull out your phone. “Sorry, this keeps going off.”

Frankie tells you it's okay without words, just using his eyes. You plug in the pin, then pull up the screen. It’s a series of texts from that asshole you hooked up with two months ago. Also, sadly, the last person you had sex with.

You must have made a face because Frankie calls your name, then asks,

“You okay?”

“Ugh, yeah,” you lower the phone and look him in the eye, “I’m just never dating or having sex again. But it’s fine. It’s okay. It's fine.” You shake your head, trying to push away memories of that night.

You were horny and lonely, so you checked out your recent matches online. You hadn't used the app in some time at that point, because every date you went on was a disaster, and the men, shit, the men just kept getting worse.

But your vibrator was no longer cutting it, and that night you decided all you needed was hot sex with a hot guy and it would hold you over for a while. When you saw his face, it was a yes, he was exactly what you were looking for, and his body was even better.

The date went okay, it was clear there was nothing there beyond sexual attraction, but that was fine. At the end of the night, you went back to his place and what started as a very hot make out led to the most disappointing sex you’ve had in a long time, and that says a lot because your recent lovers have been lackluster.

He was selfish in bed; more selfish than any man you’ve been with. He didn't go down on you but wanted you to go down on him, which you declined to do. Once you did fuck, with a condom, of course, it was over so fast you lay there stunned. The mother fucker got off on himself, you’re sure of it. You might as well have been a damn sex doll for all that.

You were sure you blocked his number and told him to never contact you again, but maybe you were too horrified at the end and forgot to do it. Either way, getting a series of texts from him telling you he wants to see you and how much fun you had together makes you want to vomit and burn your phone.

Despite your efforts to not get stuck in this memory, you do. Frankie's voice pulls you out of it and thankfully, puts the man out of your mind,

“Still not working out?”

You meet his eyes, “Yeah. I’m either cursed or there are no good men left,” when the words leave your lips, you see something in his eyes, something you can’t put a finger on, “at this point, I think I’m destined to be single and maybe never have sex again.”

Frankie chuckles, his head lowered slightly. Letting your gaze linger, you take in his profile, the way his wavy chestnut hair curls from beneath his hat. Admiring Frankie when he’s not looking is something you’ve done more times than you can count.

Your love and sex life are already a mess. The last thing you need is your secret pinning for Frankie to spill off your tongue right now. It’s a secret. You plan to keep it that way. One more disappointment with a stranger, sure, it would suck but you could handle that. One more “you up?” or ‘wyd’ text from some asshole you never want to see again, you don’t want that, but you can handle it.

But Frankie? What if you laid it all out and spilled your truth and he doesn’t feel the same way? What if he turned you down? If you try and it doesn't work out? What if you try, it’s weird, and you end up losing your best friend? - no, you can’t take that risk. Frankie means too much to you.

“Don’t give up,” when he speaks your name in between breaths, paired with his calming voice, you’re ready to just confess anyway and go in for a kiss, but you hold back, “You’ll make someone the happiest man on earth. I promise.”

You scoffed, “yeah right.”

“Don’t do that,” Frankie sits up, his expression growing serious, “you just have shitty taste in guys. You’re picking the wrong ones.” He adds a little grin at the end.

You point at him, “don’t think I can argue with you there. That or I broke a mirror at some point and didn’t realize it.”

Frankie chuckles, “or, there are good guys out there and they’re not on those fucking apps,” he observes you, then points at your phone, “those apps,” he motions to your phone, “you don’t need that.”

You sigh and drop your gaze to your phone. Then set it on the bench beside you. Your eyes meet Frankies, “no one meets organically anymore. I don’t want technology to have a decent date or get laid but here we are.”

Frankie is quietly observing you and listening. You hold his gaze for a while, too long. You feel a confession dancing on your tongue yet again. Swallowing back the words, you grab your phone and start deleting the dating apps. “Screw it. I’m getting rid of them. You’re right Cat, I don’t need them.”

Frankie sits back and crosses his arms in a relaxed way. After a few moments, he says, “I have an idea. It might be a crazy one.”

You raise a brow, “listening.”

“How about-“he pauses when your eyes meet his, “we go out on a date.”

You drop your phone. Frankie feels a jolt of panic, worrying if that was a bad idea.

The sound of your phone hitting the ground is heard by you, but you don’t care. You stare at Frankie, and a shocked smile slowly builds on your lips.

Your eyes widen, “you and me?”

“Yeah. Look,” Frankie slides his cap off and runs his hand through his hair, “you’re my best friend. You know I care about you -“he takes a beat, “I hate watching you go through all this shit with those guys. I hate seeing you unhappy…” he says your name with so much softness, it makes your heartbeat faster, “I like you; I have for years I just didn’t think -”

His words fade. You’ve always been beautiful to him. But right now, with the glint in your eye and a smile on your lips that could brighten any dark room - it renders him speechless, and any doubts he’s has start to melt away.

Frankie scoots closer to you, he attempts to continue his thoughts but can’t. Words won’t meet his lips. Instead, he does something he’s always wanted to do. He kisses you. Frankie's lips are soft and warm against your own, and your cheek heats up as he cups it with his hand.

The kiss is sweet, it makes your heart flutter and when it ends you want more. Frankie leans back just enough to gauge your reaction.

He’s a confident guy, anxious at times, sometimes a little shy, but confident. And though seconds ago he was sure you feel the same, he’s doubting himself again.

“Was that okay?” He asks softly, his beautiful soulful brown eyes locked on yours.

You smile and throw your arms around his neck, “a little short, but yeah, that’s okay.”

Frankie chuckles and pulls you closer until his lips meet yours. This time, there’s no hesitation, no worry; he kisses you like it's the last time he’ll ever kiss again, he kisses you so deeply he leaves you breathless; your head spinning as moisture pools between your thighs.

As the kiss heats up, your bodies are pressed together, and he nearly pulls you beneath him on the bench. Your fingers are in his hair now, your other hand tugging on his collar. Frankie has one hand on your thigh, the other behind your neck.

The hungry kiss doesn’t break until the beer bottle shatters on the ground, his bottle. You laugh as he reaches down to rescue your phone before it gets wet. Breathing heavily, you both continue to chuckle, and he cups your face again.

“Better?” He asks with a playful grin.

“Fuck yes.” You reply with a seductive smile.

Frankie's eyes dip to your lips, “about that date? Tomorrow?”

You poke his dimple, “Tonight?”

You’re sick of waiting.

You've wanted Frankie for years and after that kiss, you can’t wait for a second longer. Luckily, Frankie feels the same way.

“Okay, “he says confidently, “this is now a date.”

…

You can’t keep your hands off each other.

The official date portion of the night only lasted 30 minutes before you piled into Frankie's truck and ended up at his place. From the door to the living room, you make out passionately, hands exploring each other's bodies as you remove your clothes. It’s been two months since you had sex and the kiss made you feral. In the back of your mind, you wondered if you should slow down, but you don’t want to.

Every time a piece of clothing is removed, his lips are on yours again, the thud of your racing hearts pound between your bodies. As you make your way to the bedroom, he tries to navigate you in the dark, a table there, something falling over here.

“Maybe we should turn the light on?” you giggle.

He kisses your neck, his hands on your hips as you pause in the hallway, just before his bedroom. His body pressing against yours, both of you down to just your underwear now.

You wrap a leg around him, pulling him in closer, and moan as his bulge rubs against you.

“Fuck the light,” he growls, “bedroom now.”

…

In the bedroom, Frankie turns on one light, he needs to see you, to take you in, all of you. He’s seated on the edge of the bed now, admiring your form as you stand before him. He anchors one hand on your hip and kisses the soft skin of your belly.

“You’re beautiful.”

He kisses the spot again, then dips his head to kiss your thighs. Your hands are anchored on his strong broad shoulders as you watch him admiring you. There are no words, no thoughts, just the way Frankie is looking at you and speaking to you, the way his hands feel on your body; you are nearly vibrating with desire now.

Frankie stands. You slide your fingers in his hair as you kiss him, tugging at his dark brown waves. Frankie moans into the kiss and deepens it, needing more of you, his hands moving behind you and greedily cupping your ass.

You slide a hand between your bodies and palm his cock. Your hand on his cock makes Frankie moan and squeeze your ass harder. You imagine it inside of you and grow even wetter.

Frankie kisses you like no one ever has before, the way you read about in books and dreamed kisses could be. And when he slides two fingers inside of you, your knees almost buck, he demands more of your mouth as he fingers you, and you give it to him.

Pleasure rises in you as he feels you up with his other hand. You’ve always loved his hands, you stare at them all the time, you like to watch them work, and this man - he’s a fucking expert, he finds all your spots and brings you to the brink of release in minutes.

Frankie pulls his fingers out and orders you to lay on the bed on your back, knees up. Your breath catches in your throat at the command. You do it. He positions himself between your thighs and spreads them further apart,

“Perfect, just like that - “he groans, taking you in, drunk on you, kneading your thighs with his fingers as he observes you, his eyes clouded with desire.

Frankie knows how to touch you; you purr and moan to way he uses his fingers, his tongue, his mouth, the intuitive way he works your clit. You melt in his hands.

Frankie knows the right speed and pressure to bring you rushing past the edge of desire - to sweet sweet nirvana.

Frankie sits up and licks his lips. You’re seeing double and sucking air into your lungs as post-orgasm ecstasy moves in waves through your body.

He smiles, “all of that for me,” Frankie grins and dips his head again, savoring even more of your release.

Seconds later, Frankie moves up your body and hikes your leg over his hip; you bring your hands to his shoulders as he anchors himself with one hand and wraps the other around his shaft.

His eyes stay on yours as he slides into you, inch by inch, filling you and stretching you deliciously. You gasp and dig your nails into his shoulders,

“Is this too much? Should I go slower?”

He’s thicker, bigger than you’re used to, but you want all of him, every inch. You clench your walls around him and grab his ass, pulling him in deeper, needing more of him. Frankie kisses your jawline, then your lips.

“How's that for an answer?” You tease, pulling him in deeper, he moans and drops his head.

“Fucking perfect - “ he groans, thrusting his hips, sliding the rest of his cock inside your warmth.

You begin grinding your hips together, moaning with pleasure as you fuck. Your bodies move in a rhythm so synchronized it’s like you’ve done this before, and even with the extra stretch it takes to accommodate Frankie's cock, once he’s in, you fit perfectly, like your bodies were made for each other.

You grind your hips faster and faster, your hands traveling each other's bodies as he fucks you into the mattress. Frankie has imagined this so many times, and he would love to take his time with you, but right now, he's feral, the same as you, utterly consumed by red-hot passion.

Frankie changes positions, rolling on his back, you on top of him. As you ride him, you throw your head back in ecstasy. He anchors one hand on your hip and uses the other to rub your clit.

As you fuck, you become drunker and drunker on each other. You on his cock, him on the feeling of being inside of you.

You try to hold on, to keep it going a little longer, dancing at the edge of what you know will be the most exciting, most fulfilling crescendo you’ve ever had.

Frankie is so good with his hands, and his cock, you won't last much longer. Seconds later, you’re moaning his name and collapsing onto him as you come. He grunts and jerks his hips harder, faster, fucking you through your orgasm. When he kisses you again, it's almost possessive and you like it.

Frankie pins you beneath him again, he hikes your legs over his shoulders, thrusting deep into you with a shuttered groan. You cry his name and whimper at this new angle, it's intense and dizzying. The new angle does Frankie in, after a couple of pumps he comes, moaning your name in pleasure.

His body tenses, orgasmic bliss moving through him as he spills into you. A mix of moans and heightened breaths fill the room as he gently lays you on the mattress, then rolls over on his back beside you. Your body goes limp as you catch your breath.

…

Friday Morning

Frankie is up first. He’s never been able to shake his old schedule, when the sun is up, he’s up. Unless he makes an effort to sleep in.

Last night, moonlight streamed through his window and across your sleeping face, now it's the sun. He stayed up a little longer than you and watched you sleep. Same as now.

You stir awake slowly and eventually open your eyes. Squinting, your flash a tired smile at him, “hi.”

“Hi.” His voice is still groggy, and his hair is messy on his head, he looks adorable. Like you, he’s still naked beneath the sheets. Frankie leans over and kisses you.

“I haven’t brushed my teeth yet.” You chuckle and cover your mouth,

“I don’t care, I’ll kiss you anyway.” he grabs your face and plants another kiss on your lips.

You sit up and pool the sheet at your hips, your back against the pillows like him.

“Frankie, about last night?” You raise your brows at him. “Do you think we messed this up by hooking up right away?”

“No,” his brown eyes meet yours, he turns his body to you, “you?”

You reach out and scratch the patchy part of his beard. “No. I hope not.”

Frankie looks at your thoughtfully, then takes one of your hands in his, “the way I see it, this has been building between us for some time. What happened last night was proof of that.”

You nod. Last night was amazing.

Frankie's everything you imagined and more. With one night, he’s erased all your bad sexual experiences and cleansed shitty lovers from your body memory.

He kisses you how you’ve longed to be kissed. Touches you in ways that make you wild and dizzy with lust. The way he pleases you cannot be compared to any other experience you've had; all your past lovers pale in comparison to this.

In the back of your mind, a thought picks away at you. What if starting with sex makes this a sex thing? As fun as that would be, you love him, and you’d want more than that.

Frankie caresses your arm, “hey, where’d you go?”

“Sorry, I just- it’s clear we like each other. We are obviously attracted to each other, but I’m just worried this will turn into a friends-with-benefits situation. And as fun as that could be, I don’t want -“ you trail off and try to read his expression.

Frankie takes a breath and caresses your arm, “I’ve been in love with you for years. I don’t want just a sex thing. I want you and me, together.”

A smile builds on your lips as your worries fall away, you inch closer to him, “I’m in love with you too Frankie.”

Your name is soft on his lips, his eyes full of adoration, “It's official then isn’t it, “he brushes his knuckles over your cheek, “you’re mine now.”

“And you’re mine.” You smile as you climb into his lap and draw him into a kiss.

Masterlist | Frankie | Pedro

#Frankie Morales #pedrostoriesgift22 #pedrostories #Frankie catfish Morales #Frankie x f reader #best friend to boyfriend #fic: how about you and me #frankie morales smut #Frankie Morales fluff #artes moodboards #frankie triple frontier

[laureliciousdefinition]

Always Been You | Javier Peña x Reader

Summary: friendship blossoms into something more with Javi.

rating: T

tags/warnings: fluff, pining, friends to lovers

a/n: MERRY CHRISTMAS @chaoticgeminate ! I hope you enjoy your gift, it's been a blast being your Pedrostories Secret Santa! Your topic really pushed me, as I've never done a friends to lovers before, so I really appreciate the exercise!! enjoy my friend <3

Javier was never much of a dancer. Not in his younger days, and most certainly not now. There’s not really much time for something like that when you’re spending several years chasing down drug lords- granted when he moved back to the states, he didn’t exactly make time for it then, either.

 Lorraine had always tried to get him to dance with her, and he reluctantly obliged at weddings and similar occasions, but it was always these stiff, slow movements. It just never felt right on him, like he wasn’t in control of his body. He knew he looked dumb when he danced, so why bother subjecting himself to that?

But still- seeing her, looking down at him with full eyes and an extended hand, begging him to come onto the crowded floor of the bar they’d met up at, he felt it for the first time in a while, or maybe even ever. He wanted to dance.

He gave her a playful roll of his eyes before taking her hand and standing. He tried to ignore the flutter in his stomach when she laughed and beamed at him triumphantly. She situated herself in his arms, a respectable distance between their bodies, of course- appropriate between two friends. Javi tried to shove down the urge to slide his hand lower than its place at the small of her back, or to tug her in closer and get an intoxicating hit of her perfume. He didn’t know the song they were dancing to- he didn’t know most popular songs these days- but it didn’t matter. All he could hear was the pounding of his heart in his ears, watching her sway happily and use his hand to twirl herself around. Her skirt twirled with her, brushing against his knees when she moved back into his hold. God, he needed to calm down; his hands twitched for a cigarette he didn’t have on him. 

Both to his chagrin and his relief, one of her coworkers who’d been part of their group cut in, allowing Javi a chance to step outside and catch his breath. The cold December air was sharp in his lungs, pulling him back down to reality. He wasn’t sure why he was so worked up over this- it was just a dance. He’d been her friend long enough at this point that this was far from the first time he’d seen her like this. But something had just… changed. Javier wasn’t sure exactly when, or what, but it changed. 

She just felt so off limits to him; he was damaged goods, she was all things kind and pure personified. She didn’t need him tarnishing that with his baggage. There were plenty of other much more respectable men and women in her office that suited her more than he did- and thus, he took to quietly admiring her from afar, tamping down any feelings he may have and staying in the zone she had placed him in several months ago; friends.

“There you are!”

Javi looked up, hearing her voice as she rounded the corner of the brick building. She was probably cold- she always wore her “dancing clothes” as she called them when they went out, leaving most of her leg exposed to the chilly air, but her smile remained as warm as ever.

“What are you doing out here? I turned around and you were gone,” she explained, wiping her hair from her forehead before wrapping her arms around her torso. 

“Just needed some air,” He responded. 

After he spoke,, Javi wordlessly took his jacket off, offering it to her with an outstretched hand. She grabbed it quickly, tugging it around herself and standing up a bit straighter now that she wasn’t so cold. He pushed away the way he felt seeing his jacket draped over her shoulders.

She leaned back against the wall next to him, mirroring his slouched posture and propped foot. “My dancing was that good, huh?”

He let out a breathy chuckle. “Yeah. That’s it.”

A comfortable silence fell over the two of them, Javi keeping his gaze trained on the ground while she fiddled idly with her fingernails. He wanted desperately to grab her hand, take her home, back into the bar- anything, he just wanted to get his hands back on her. His palm still burned from where hers had gripped it loosely. Javi hated feeling out of control like this- he was always smooth and collected with women. He wasn’t sure the last time he’d ever been taken out by something as silly as a crush.

“Hey, what time is it?” She asked after a moment, gesturing towards his watch.

Untucking it from his folded arms, Javi squinted down at the timepiece. “Uh.. just past eleven.”

She hummed in thought. “I should probably get going, gotta feed Salem. She always gets mad when I’m late.” She pushed off the wall, remaining at his side.

Javier laughed, imagining her being bossed around by her tiny black cat. When he’d first gone over to her apartment- as friends, of course- he had warned her of his allergy to cats, and of course Salem had jumped right into his lap and started purring happily. She’d made a joke about the cat having good taste, and he didn’t have the heart to shove it off his lap after that. He sniffled his way through the movie night, making sure to buy some allergy meds after he left.

“Can’t keep her highness waiting.” He started walking, offering his arm to her. “Walk you home?” He offered, secretly hopeful. 

Her arm linked through his. “Such a gentleman.” She teased, matching his slow pace.

“What can I say?” He deadpanned. “So, what does the rest of your weekend look like?”

She hummed and titled her head to the side, indicating that she was thinking. “Well, I’m mostly just catching up on boring stuff like laundry and groceries on Sunday. Going out for dinner tomorrow, though, so that’s fun I guess.”

“Oh yeah?” He raised his brows. “A hot date?”

“I wouldn’t exactly call it that,” She responded with a snort.

Javi ignored the spark of jealously over the confirmation that she was going on a date. He knew he had no right to be bothered by it.

“It’s more of a ‘two people meeting for dinner but I’ll only call it a date if it goes well’ situation.” She explained, gesturing with her free hand.

“Of course.”

“Well? What about you? I’m sure cool guy Javier Peña has something fun planned,” she spoke with a teasing lilt.

He scoffed in response. “I’m drowning in women. Pretty packed schedule for me.” She shook her head and gave a quiet laugh, nudging him slightly. “No, I’m probably just gonna catch up on adult things myself. Can’t go too crazy.”

“Hey, laundry day can get pretty wild. Last week I accidentally dried a pair of jeans, and now they don’t fit right. It’s the stuff of legends.” 

Javi laughed at her joke as they rounded the final block that brought them to her apartment. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t been walking extra slow tonight, savoring the time he spent with her and the way her arm felt wrapped around his. They came to a stop at the entry, a small lapse of comfortable silence passing between them.

“Thanks for walking me home,” She said with a small smile. “Here’s your jacket. Thanks for not letting me freeze,” she placed it in his hands, and Javi tried his best not to tug it on too quickly and let her know how cold he’d been the whole time. He forgot how chilly Texas winters could get. 

“Don’t mention it,” He waved her off. “Now go inside and feed your cat, I’m scared she’s gonna come down here if I keep you any longer.”

She laughed in agreement. “Night Javi. See you Monday.”

“See you then.” He responded, sliding his hands into his pockets.

He watched to make sure she made it inside the building before turning away, making his way back to his own place. It wasn’t a far walk, but the cold air and the unsettling of his stomach were making him feel sluggish. He trudged on still, just trying to get home and get her out of his head.

————————————————

A knock sounded, pulling Javier away from the TV. He was grateful for the interruption- he’d been trying to get into this whole Friends craze that everyone in his life had been talking about for months, and his brain was starting to go numb. 

Wiping his hands on his legs, he trotted to the front door. He didn’t bother looking through the peephole- he only knew one person who liked to knock on his door past a reasonable hour.

“I take it things didn’t go well?” He asked, not worrying with pleasantries. 

He knew if she’d come all the way to his apartment at this hour, her date had been a flop- they usually were. They liked to joke that she was a character in one of those god awful rom-coms she always dragged him to see; the main character who went on a montage of bad dates before finally landing on the perfect one. Of course, in her case, she was still in the montage. She swore up and down he actually liked those movies, but really he just liked spending time with her.

He tried his best not to be happy about the idea of the date going wrong.

“He was an ass.” She shrugged, taking her coat off and dropping it onto one of the free hooks by the door.

“Most guys are.” 

She laughed at that, and he felt a small bloom of pride in his chest.

“I’m sorry to drop in so late, I just didn’t wanna go straight home after that fiasco. I promise I won’t stay long.” She sat on one of the barstools with a huff, leaning casually against the counter.

He waved it off. “Don’t apologize,” he leaned back against the arm of the couch, facing her. “So what did he do?”

She rolled her eyes, crossing her arms before speaking. “Just… everything. Like- I don’t need someone to be a stereotype gentleman with all the door holding, chair pulling, and so on, but I mean, you could at least not close the door in my face, you know? But then when we sat down, he decided that was the time to be Mr. Chivalry, and ordered my food for me. Can you believe that?” 

Javier pulled a disgusted face. “Where’d you find this guy again?”

“One of my girlfriends set me up with him. She was just trying to do me a favor, but I swear they’re just sick of me being the only single one in the group.”

He nodded and hummed in response. “I don’t think you should worry about it so much.”

“Easier said than done,” She scoffed. “Sometimes it feels like there’s this big secret everyone else is in on but me. I don’t understand how so many people in my life have just found their soulmates like it’s no big deal.”

He wasn’t sure how to respond to that. This was always a sensitive topic within their friendship; she was his first female strictly-friend since grade school, and he never knew how far to go with the ‘love life’ line. He didn’t want to reveal his own feelings, but even aside from that, he didn’t want to push her too far in any direction, afraid of making her uncomfortable.

“I’m sorry,” He settled on. 

“Nothing to be sorry for,” She shrugged. “It’s just a fact.”

Another moment of quiet between them, before she finally spoke again. “Oh, I forgot to tell you the best part. He got all weird and defensive when I was telling him that story about you and I at that hibachi place. The one where I choked on the shrimp?”

He chuckled, mostly to himself, at the memory. The chef was doing that lame trick where they tossed the pieces of food to the guests around the table, and she had loudly hyped herself up to everyone in the group about how good she was at this game. When the chef got to her, he chucked the shrimp at her so quickly, and it went straight down her throat. Javi had been too busy laughing to help, and it had become a staple story between them. 

“How could I forget?”

“Right? Anyways, I was telling him that story because the friend that set me up with him- Melanie, you know her- was at that dinner, and I was just making the connection as a conversation topic. But then I mentioned you were there and he was all, ‘who’s this Javi dude’, and ‘I wouldn’t have laughed at you’. Like it was some kind of competition. Isn’t that pathetic?” She finished, throwing her arms out in exasperation. 

“Yeah that’s… something.” He shook his head, unable to place the feeling in his gut. He was part of the reason her date had gone wrong, which made him feel guilty. But at the same time, she was defending him. She was pushing away a potential love interest just for him.

“Ugh, whatever. He sucks, I hate dating, nothing’s changed.” She sighed, standing from the barstool. “I better get going. Thanks for letting me rant.”

As he watched her move across the small space, something stirred in his chest. A feeling he couldn’t quite pinpoint, but it had his heart pounding. It was like something in his brain was telling him that if she walked out that door, that was it. Anything he felt for her- it had to be done with.

“Wait.” 

He couldn’t take it back now. 

She stopped, turning to him as she grabbed her coat. “What?” She asked, puzzled at his outburst.

“I just.. don’t leave yet.” He hated how small he sounded.

Her brows furrowed in confusion. “Oh, uh, okay,” she re-placed her coat on the rack. 

They stood there silently, though this time the silence was unlike their usual comforting one. It was tense, thick- the kind that made his ears hurt. He was searching desperately for the words, knowing the longer he took the worse this was gonna get. 

“I can’t take it anymore.” 

“What do you mean?’ She questioned slowly. 

“This. I can’t watch you get hurt like this over and over anymore.” He couldn’t bear to look at her. His heart was pounding so loudly she could surely hear it.

She touched his arm softly, though he felt jolted to life by it. “Oh, Jav, is that what you’re worried about? Don’t worry about me. I’m fine, really-“

“No,” he interrupted, taking a deep breath. “What I mean is, I can’t keep watching you do this without telling you how I feel, and I hate the way I feel, because it’s not fair to you. But you have… you’ve had me for months now. I have tried to ignore it, put it away for your sake. But then I hear you talk about things like this and I just want to give you so much more. Shit- not that I think I’m better, but-“

This time she interrupted. “Javi, breathe. It’s okay.”

They took a breath together. He’d never acted like this before- he was never someone that rambled. Those were the kinds of people he made fun of all the time. But he had opened the. Door, and all his words came tumbling out, whether he liked it or not.

“I… I don’t know what to say.” She spoke gently, as if approaching a frightened animal.

“You don’t have to say anything. I should’ve kept that to myself,” He winced at his own words, wishing he could shrink into himself and disappear. 

“No, no. Thank you for being so honest.” 

Javi hated the way her words were sounding. It felt like she was setting him up for a gentle rejection- she’d never used this tone on him before. 

“Javier, I knew you were special from the moment I met you. I knew you were going to be trouble for me from that very first day. But I didn’t want to push you, because I knew you’d been through some shit, and didn’t think you were stable enough to deal with a relationship. So I pushed all that aside.” She touched his cheek, forcing him to look at her. Her eyes were glassy, the way they always got when she started sharing her emotions.

“It has killed me every single time we’ve talked about you with another woman. For the longest time all I could think about what how I wish it were me, and that made me feel like an idiot. But god, Javi, You’re kind and funny and so supportive of me all the times, and I just… I have always wanted you.”

Javier’s head spun. He must’ve been dreaming. He was falling from the sky and couldn’t see the ground. He was spiraling, there was no way these words were coming out of her mouth.

“You feel the same?” He asked, not even caring about the hopeful tone his words took.

She let out a breathy laugh. “Yeah. I guess so.”

His heart was surely going to burst in that moment- he wasn’t sure he’d ever felt such intense emotions, and so many at once. 

“So… what now?” He spoke, nearly whispering. 

Before she answered, she glanced off to the side. They’d moved closer during their confessions, so close their chests almost pressed together. 

“You could… you could kiss me now.”

That was it. His heart was bursting, he was dead and gone. He couldn’t even fully process her words. She must’ve known this, because she smiled at him, before closing the space between them and pressing their lips together for the first time.

feedback/interactions always appreciated <3

taglist:

@iamskyereads @guess-my-next-obsession @wheresarizona @kirsteng42 @wildemaven @axshadows

#pedrostoriesgift22 #pedrostories #javier pena x you #javier pena x reader #javier pena imagine #javier peña fanfiction #narcos fanfiction

[thot-of-khonshu]

I Could Fall

Frankie Morales x F! Reader

Summary: You meet the gorgeous Frankie Morales at a wedding and a Selena song seems to follow you throughout your relationship.

Rating: T

Content: Pure fluff, girl! dad Frankie, weddings, allusions to sex, Selena the queen herself

Words: ~1600

A/N: HAPPY HOLIDAYS TO ALL!!! This is my submission to the @pedrostories Secret Santa for the lovely @simpingcowboy. I hope you enjoy this Frankie filled fluff and have the best holiday!!!

Masterlist

I could lose my heart tonight

If you don't turn and walk away

'Cause the way I feel I might

Lose control and let you stay

The first time you saw him was at your cousin Sarah’s wedding. Dealing with an intense deadline at work, you almost didn’t make it. But you also didn’t want to miss her wedding for the world and you knew she’d kill you for skipping out on food and festivities you’d already paid for. You’d met her now-husband Benny a few times at family gatherings; he was a former Army man and an MMA fighter. He had energy and loyalty like a golden retriever; you knew they were good for each other. He came from a good family; he didn’t have friends—he had a brotherhood. 

That’s where he comes into play. You’d tried to leave a table, talking to your family members when you ran smack dab into him. He’d asked if you were alright, you just gawked at him for a moment. Broad in a way that didn’t feel all encompassing but comfortable, a strong nose that sat between gorgeous dark eyes, dark, shaggy curls adorned on his head. Beautiful without trying. 

Instead of thinking you were an oddball, it seemed like he was speechless too. Was he feeling the same thing you were? When you didn’t respond to his question, he blurted out “I��m Frankie. I’m here for Benny.” 

“I know, I saw you in the wedding party..” You smiled. 

“Well, I guess walking down the aisle is the easiest way to see someone.” He blushed. And then it began.

You’d talked for the rest of the night, drawn to each other in conversation as people came and went from the table grabbing food, going to the dance floor. Selena’s “I Could Fall in Love” played and suddenly you found yourself back 10 plus years ago, a metaphorical school gym walls behind the both of you as you fiddled at your nails, waiting for the cute boy to get the hint and pull you out to the dance floor. 

“This is a great song.” You quipped. 

“Yeah. My mamá loves Selena.” Frankie grunted. 

For the first time all night it was quiet between you two as the song continued to play. You’d felt that familiar feeling of self-doubt creep up — was he even interested in you? You were two strangers just passing the time at the wedding and it looks like his friends were occupied with their dates.

You hear the silence of the song end and you realize you could’ve also asked him. Just as you’re beginning to kick yourself, a faster song comes on and you decide to build the courage to ask him. 

“Would you like to dance? With me?” Frankie blurted out, breaking you out of your trance of thoughts. 

Before your mouth could say yes, you stood up and led him to the dance floor. 

—----------

“He did not!”

“I promise you, he ate shit once we landed, and he was too cocky to wear a belt so his ass was just out in the air.”

You almost choke on your mountain of fries. You can’t remember what time you’d gotten there but the fact that the servers were armed with mops and buckets around you gave you a sign. 

You can’t remember what number of dates this is–you’ve stopped counting. Your first kiss happened almost instantaneously during your first date, the two of you drawn to each other like you were at the wedding. He spent the night after your third date; you remember tidying up your apartment like the Tasmanian devil, hoping that maybe something would happen and then you spent the morning dirtying up your kitchen again cooking breakfast together and making love. 

It’s closing time at this diner but neither of you are ready to end the night; you both have work in the morning so a sleepover isn’t possible–but you’re just not ready to end the night just yet. 

As Frankie takes out his wallet to pay, you hear a familiar song on the speakers.

I can only wonder how

Touching you would make me feel

But if I take that chance right now

Tomorrow will you want me still?

The both of you exchange a knowing look. 

“I’m gonna sound like such a creep…” Frankie starts. “But I remember this was playing during the night we met. At Benny and Sarah’s wedding.” 

“I remember where we met. How could I forget?” You grin.

“Oh, you’re rhyming now? Don’t tell me you’re gonna start singing, too.” Frankie jokes. 

“The whole time that song was playing I was wondering if you were going to ask me to dance.” You say. 

“That whole time, I was wondering how to ask you to dance.” Frankie smiles. And the two of you are laughing as you finally get up to leave the restaurant at closing time. 

It’s so early into your relationship but you genuinely enjoy spending as much time with Frankie as you can–you love his friends, you adore his daughter, there’s an ease that you’ve never had with anyone you’ve ever dated and it doesn’t scare you at all. You just feel a calm that’s so sturdy because you know it’s heading somewhere special in the long term. 

But as for tonight? You wish you could be with him. 

He drives you home and you share syrupy, slow kisses in the front seat of his truck. He walks you to your door, bouncing on the balls of his feet. You let out a deep sigh. He caresses your cheek and his lips hover over yours. 

“Fuck it,” He grunts. “I can go in late tomorrow.” 

—----------

And I know it's not right

And I guess I should try to do what I should do

But I could fall in love, fall in love with you

I could fall in love with you

The warm summer haze peeks through your windows. They’re bare without curtains to block them, you still need to unpack them. 

There’s still so much to unpack. The flurry of packing for and moving for one is always a blur but to combine that with someone else’s things? Not to say you weren’t ecstatic when Frankie asked you to move in together. 

What started out as sleepovers turned into copied keys and then before you knew it the two of you were just always together. The one time you weren’t there with Frankie to pick his daughter up, Gabriella’s lip wobbled and eyebrow furrowed in the backseat as she asked “Where did she go?” 

The attachment that his daughter had developed with you, plus his deep, devoted love to you is what made this decision easy. And now here you are, in your bedroom, unpacking your new life together. 

You heard the lull of music in the background, humming along to Selena as you felt two broad hands slide onto your hips, swaying you to the music. 

“Isn’t this a bit sappy for your playlist?” You quipped, leaning onto Frankie and embracing being engulfed by him. 

He sings along, loudly as you turn to laugh at him. You grab at his baseball cap to get his attention but that’s no use, his arms are quickly back around your waist. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be unpacking?” You say in false protest. 

“Listen to the song, mi reina.” He says, placing his head on top of yours. That familiar Selena song continues to play as you break away from his embrace and look up at him. 

“It feels like this song is following us, sometimes.” You grin, reminiscing on old times. 

“That’s because it’s our song. Our song in our new home has a nice ring to it.” Frankie leans down to meet your lips and all you can think about is how you couldn’t agree more. 

—----------

November just might be the best time to get married in Florida. It’s not as sticky, hot and humid as the summer and it’s not abnormally-cold-for-the-south under 60 degrees. 

It’s the perfect time for friends and family to get together to celebrate. 

It was the perfect day to marry Frankie. 

The ceremony was intimate and beautiful, Gabriella being the flower girl and giving you the rings. From the top of the aisle you could already see the sprinkle of tears in Frankie’s eyes through the glistening of your own. 

At the reception, you had just been introduced as Mr. and Mrs. Francisco Morales and though you didn’t prepare a speech, Frankie clinked his glass to your surprise. 

He thanked everyone for coming and participating in your wedding, jokingly thanking Gabriella for staying up past her bedtime and then he turned to you, taking your hand in his. 

“I met my beautiful wife two and a half years ago at Benny’s wedding. It’s funny, my mamá kept asking me when I would meet the right girl and then I literally ran into her. I remember we sat there talking all night and then suddenly, “I Could Fall in Love” by Selena started playing. Fun fact–that song is 4 minutes and 41 seconds long and I think I spent every single second of that song trying to come up with an excuse to dance with her. I was just so damn nervous, and I could tell she was waiting for me to make a move already!” 

The crowd sprinkles in laughter. 

“Right after that song I finally plucked up the courage to ask her, but that song has seemed to follow us ever since. So although I missed my shot that night with that song, I finally wanna ask her to dance to it tonight.” 

He takes your hand and guides you to the dance floor, your first dance as husband and wife. 

You think of the first time you saw him. 

The countless nights of laughs and passion. 

Merging your lives together. 

And now this moment. 

Whenever this song came next into your lives, you knew it would greet you together. 

I could lose my heart tonight

If you don't turn and walk away

'Cause the way I feel I might

Lose control and let you stay

#pedrostories #pedrostoriesgift22 #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fandom #frankie morales x you #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales #frankie morales fanfiction #francisco morales #frankie morales x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal x reader #Spotify

[floralpascal]

Let Me Take Care of It All - Pedrostories Secret Santa

Summary: After a long, hard day, Frankie does everything he can to help you relax and unwind

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Warnings: kissing, fingering, established secret relationship, little sprinkle of friends to lovers, Frankie is the best boyfriend ever

A/N: This is a gift for @intheorangebedroom ! The prompt was "Let's start with the easiest: I'm Frankie's girl... I like pretty classic stuff: forbidden love, secret relationship, enemies to lovers, friends to lovers. But I'm not difficult really... Frankie just taking care of me after a hard day's work is all I dream about most of the time." I can't tell you how excited this prompt made me and how much fun it was to write! I hope you love your gift!!

Of all the days you could have planned to go to a cookout at Frankie’s, of course it had to have been this one. You had made the plan with the guys weeks ago. Santi had asserted that it had been too long since you had all been together and, agreeing, Frankie offered to host a cookout. At the time, the idea of a laid-back evening with everyone had seemed like the perfect way to blow off steam and you had been looking forward to the day ever since. 

What you hadn’t known, however, was that today would be one of the most long and tiring work days you had ever experienced. Your whole week had been busy, but today had taken the cake. From the moment the day started, you were juggling a million responsibilities that all needed to be addressed immediately. While you had been able to handle it all and finish the day strong, it had taken almost all of your energy. 

Even so, you were absolutely determined to show up to Frankie’s house. The first reason was that you felt bad bailing on Santi, your decades-long best friend who you had barely seen in the last month. Secondly, you had promised Benny that you would try his “world famous” smoked pork that he would be bringing. But the main reason that you wanted to go? It was to see Frankie, the man you had secretly been dating for months. 

It wasn’t like the two of you desperately wanted to keep your relationship a complete secret from the guys. It was just that your relationship had naturally grown from being friends to being something more and you had sort of… fallen into the secrecy. At first, you both had kept it from the guys while you figured things out. With the both of you being Santi’s two best friends, you didn’t want to make things weird with him or face his inevitable questioning about your relationship. 

Now, you were ten months into the best relationship either of you ever had… and ten months into a relationship that the guys knew nothing about. It was nearly a year of blissful secrets and subterfuge. With every month that ticked by, telling the others got harder and harder. You both wanted to tell them - especially Santi - but then you would have ten months worth of secrets to air out. While you were sure they would all be happy for you and Frankie, you were also sure that revealing your year-long relationship would be a bombshell unlike anything ever seen before. Not to mention that there was still a certain thrill that came with the secrecy. Each sultry look, hidden smile, and stolen touch felt electrified with the knowledge that you could be found out. At times, it was enough to make you feel like a teenager again, like you were sneaking out of the house in the middle of the night. Only now, you were sneaking off to Frankie’s house in the evenings, hoping that none of the guys decided to make an impromptu visit while you were there. 

Finding a good time to confess this all to Santi, Will, and Benny was… complicated, to say the least. Even so, you and Frankie had decided last week that you would tell the guys soon. 

Soon. Just definitely not today. Not with how drained your energy already was. You would save that for another day - a day when you had more than enough energy that the conversation would surely demand. For now, you would let the secrecy continue as you savored it. You would save your energy to get through the cookout and into Frankie’s reassuring arms. 

Frankie. 

Even the thought of his embrace eased the weight of the day off your shoulders as you climbed the stairs to Frankie’s front door. 

You chuckled to yourself as you rapped your knuckles against the wood. Frankie had given you a key to his house months ago and you both were well beyond knocking at each other’s front doors. On any other occasion when Frankie was already expecting you, you would simply walk in as you called out to greet him. Being this formal at a house you already spent most of your time in felt odd. Yet, you had to keep up appearances, if only for just a bit longer.

The door opened to reveal the man you had hoped to see. Frankie’s brown eyes brightened the moment he saw you, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. The ends of his curls poked out from under his favorite Standard Oil cap, the same waves of curls you had mussed this morning. It was his shirt, though, that caught your attention. It was the same green t-shirt of his that you had been wearing earlier today before work.

You looked up from the shirt to Frankie’s eyes, silently asking if he had done it on purpose. From the way a slow grin spread across his face, you could tell that the answer was yes. The warmth that spread through your chest made you feel infinitely better than you had all day. 

Frankie turned and looked over his shoulder behind him. Finding that the coast was clear, he wheeled back around, gently grabbed your arms, and pulled you into a tight embrace. 

“Hey, baby,” he whispered into your ear, his deep, soothing baritone sending shivers down your spine. as you settled into this strong embrace. Then, he placed a kiss on your cheek. 

You wrapped your arms tighter around his shoulders and sighed in relief, “Hey, handsome.”

Frankie pulled back, keeping his hands firmly planted on your waist. “The guys are out back getting ready,” he explained. “How was your day?”

You huffed, letting your shoulders sag for a moment. “Long and hard. I’m beat.”

Frankie’s eyebrows drew together in concern. “You wanna go home? I can cover with the guys.”

You shook your head, giving him a lazy smile. “No, I want to see them. And then after they all go, I want to curl up on the couch with my boyfriend and not move a muscle.”

“That we can arrange,” Frankie grinned. “Whatever you need, cariño.”

“You,” you answered. “Just you.”

~~~

It was a familiar dance. A shared knowing glance from across the table. A completely intentional bump of his foot against yours. An innocent hand coming to ghost along your back as he moved beside you to grab another beer. You knew the steps well. It was bittersweet, knowing that soon you wouldn’t have to keep it a secret anymore. 

Being with the guys again had been great. It had felt like ages since you had all been together. Luckily for you, it had been very laid-back, with everyone encouraging you to vent about all that had happened throughout the day. All in all, it was near therapeutic. Even so, you were a little more than excited as the party wound down and the guys left one by one. 

Excusing yourself to the bathroom, you waited out until Santi - the last guest left in the house - pulled out of Frankie’s driveway. When you emerged from the bathroom, you gasped as you found that the lights had been dimmed. Candles were set out around the living room, the small, flickering flames burning bright in the dark and casting a tint of yellow over everything in the room. Frankie was leaning over the coffee table holding a lighter to the wick of yet another candle. His hat was missing from his head now, his curls still somewhat flattened from it. 

“Frankie… I- I...” You started, barely able to find words.

Standing up, Frankie gave you a sheepish smile, his eyes crinkling at the edges. “I thought you could use something special today,” he explained. “I hope it’s okay.”

“Okay?” you practically laughed, making your way over to him. You ran your hands up his torso to his chest and brought your lips to his in a warm kiss. When you broke away, you continued, “This is more than okay.”

“You deserve it, baby. Today sounded rough.” 

“That’s one word for it.”

He hummed, whispering a small, “C’mere.” He pulled you over to the couch settling himself lengthwise down the seats before pulling you to sit with your back to his chest. “Get comfortable, babe.”

You laid your head back against his shoulder as his arms snaked around your front, his warm hands coming to lay on your sides. You laced your fingers through his on your torso, feeling his thumb run along the back of one of your hands. 

Being with Frankie felt like recharging, like he was reversing all the hardships of your day. He was a sigh of relief, a reprieve from the world. The way he could fix everything was incredible. 

“You had all this planned?” You asked against his shoulder.

He nodded, looking down at you. “Oh, cariño,” he purred, “this is just the beginning.”

Your eyebrows shot up, a teasing smile gracing your lips. “Is that right? And what might you have planned next?”

Frankie kissed at your jawline, his stubble lightly scraping against your skin. “Depends on if it’s what you want…”

Tilting your head to the side to give him access to your neck, you replied, “Something tells me I’m gonna like it.”

Frankie groaned against your neck before he moved to capture your lips once again. It was languid, unhurried, but laced with heat and promise. He broke away only enough to plead against your lips, “Let me make you feel better.”

You nodded before his right hand released yours and traveled lower. Going achingly slow, he pushed under the band of your leggings, then the band of your underwear. You lifted your free hand to grasp Frankie’s hair behind you, lightly pulling at the locks to bring his lips back to yours. Already sensitive from the anticipation, you arched into him as his fingers found your clit. His tongue gaining entrance to your mouth, he began rubbing slow, rhythmic circles between your thighs. A heat as warm and bright as the flames of the candles began to build in your stomach with each touch. He swallowed down your small groans, his tongue moving in time with his hand.

You thought you knew what he was doing, what his end goal was. But you had been so wonderfully wrong. When you were practically dripping for him, he stopped his ministrations on your clit and broke away from your lips, earning a small whine from you.

“Ready for a little more?” he asked, his voice several octaves lower now. You appreciated the way Frankie took the lead, letting you simply relax into him while he pleasured you, yet always making sure that it was what you wanted. He took the reins, but was always more than willing to let you take over if you desired. If you needed something else, you need only say the word. But what you wanted right now was to let him continue with whatever plan he had set out, to let yourself simply melt into his touch. You gave him a yes as he nibbled at your jawline, an approving rumble in his chest. 

“Being so fuckin’ good for me,” Frankie murmured against you. His left hand moved lower now, joining his right hand between your thighs. His left hand resumed his work on your clit, the circles more calculated than before, as if he was pinpointing exactly what it was that brought you the most pleasure. His right hand was on a new mission, one that brought him lower to your entrance. He pushed two fingers in slowly, gliding in easily with how wet he had made you. You choked out a moan when he started pumping his fingers in and out at a slow, steady pace. 

You tipped your head back against his shoulder, letting him hold you up as he took you apart piece by piece. 

“That’s it, baby,” he encouraged, “just relax for me. Let me take care of it all.”

“Frankie…” you said, barely above a whisper. It felt like the only word you could say right now, all other thoughts quickly leaving you as he continued driving you higher. He began to leave a slow trail of kisses down your neck. Then, his pace increased, his fingers working in tandem over you to ratchet the heat up higher, one hand sliding over your clit while the other slid against your walls. 

Suddenly, the heat crested, pleasure spreading out from your core in waves and your muscles contracting in time with them. Despite how hard you were squeezing him, Frankie continued at the same pace as before, making your release even more intense. You grasped for any part of him you could find, one hand finding his arm, the other lightly pawing at the back of his neck. 

“Just like that, cariño. You’re so damn beautiful when you come,” he rasped, nearly breathless himself. 

Frankie worked you until you came down, finally stopping once you were twitching from overstimulation. You tried to regulate your breathing a little before you sought out his mouth again, letting it be messy this time. 

“I love you,” you panted against his lips. “Fuck, Frankie, I love you.”

Frankie moved away enough to see you, his deep brown eyes hooded as he took you in with adoration. He replied, “I love you, too. So much.”

With more awareness now, you could feel how hard he was against your ass, pressing against you insistently. “Frankie?”

“Mmm?”

“Please tell me you’ve got more planned.” You ground your ass back against him teasingly, showing him exactly what you wanted. 

Frankie grinned, his hands sliding up to your hips. “Like I said, baby, we’re still just getting started.”

#pedrostoriesgift22 #pedrostories #frankie morales #francisco morales #frankie morales x reader #triple frontier #frankie morales x you #francisco catfish morales #pedro pascal #triple frontier fanfiction #will miller #william miller #william ironhead miller #benny miller #benjamin miller #santi garcia #santiago garcia #santiago pope garcia #my writing

[oogaboogasphincter]

Make My Wish Come True | Joel Miller x f!reader

a hidden crush, a secret admirer and a blind date for a present? talk about a love flurry for your christmas forecast! your best friend joel miller might know more than he’s letting on. 

word count/rating/warnings - 6600+ // MATURE 18+ ONLY: jackson era!joel, friends to lovers (more like idiots to lovers lol), swearing, food and eating mention, one gun mention, very little talk about infected, bodies, etc., tommy, maria and ellie mentions/appearances, lots of anxiety talk but the good kind, everyone is painfully sarcastic in tlou ‘verse, kissing, choking mention, allusions to sex

a/n - @laureliciousdefinition​ is my wonderful giftee for the @pedrostories​ secret santa event! i had soooo much fun writing this and truly got carried away haha, i've never written something this complex. this was also my first time writing joel, i hope i did him justice <3 and i hope i fulfilled your wish lauren! 💕 i left the ending sort of open so the audience can take creative liberty as to what happens next, but i have no qualms against writing a spicy part two hehe 🤭

“A blind date? Really, Tommy?”

It’s early in the afternoon on Christmas Day. Outside your quaint little house in Jackson, the sun - chopped into severe angles from the distant Teton mountain peaks - shines bright against the snow banks. Black-capped chickadee songs float through the crisp air, chirps and mews from elk echo across the great planes of frozen land that comprise your new home - and Tommy is standing across from you in your living room, dumping an unexpected and unwelcome present on you on the cheerful day.

“Come on, practically the whole town’s pitched in to bring it together!” He would’ve never made it as a salesman in the pre-outbreak world. Relying solely on weak persuasion and guilting the customer? A pink slip would’ve found its way into his hands within the first week.

“Even Joel chipped in?” you ask incredulously. Joel’s been your best friend since your first day in Jackson. After being dragged to the town pub by none other than Tommy in an effort to acclimate you to the community, you spotted Joel as soon as you walked in; stood in the corner, keeping to himself. The soft smile hidden under his thick facial hair told you he found alone time pleasant, but when it grew to twice its size when you introduced yourself, you vowed to never come unstuck from his side like velcro. 

You knew your best friend - Joel loved you, but he would never approve of setting you up like this. You can’t really put your finger on any specific reasoning as to why, you just know in your gut he wouldn’t. 

“Yes,” his younger brother states bluntly. Tommy was never good at lying either.

“Look, it’ll be fun! We made it all nice for ya, you don’t have to worry about anything besides being... approachable,” he looks at you with a playful accusatory glint in his eyes. One reason you and Joel get along so great is because you’re two of the few - if not only - people in Jackson that don’t focus on finding love; Well, at least you don’t express it outwardly. Since forming your close bond with the old grump, you’ve wondered to yourself numerous times how deep what you two have swims into those blurry lines that separate platonic and romantic relationships. You definitely haven’t gotten lost in your thoughts day after day pondering how far you want your relationship with Joel to go either. Nope, sleepless nights imagining what it would be like to stand up on your tiptoes during one of his tight hugs, leaning up and finally planting a kiss on his lips couldn’t be more unfamiliar to you.

“We all gotta get wrangled up at some point. Hey - it might be your secret admirer! At least this way we can start to narrow down the options,” he attempts to convince you again, and this time he’s a little more successful than before. For the past few weeks there’s been someone in town vying for your heart. You’ve come back from patrols to find warm servings of food on your back porch. You’ve been awoken from your sleep by gentle melodies coming from outside, down on the street and drifting up to your bedroom. Most recently you set out for the stables for your scheduled patrol only to be stopped by a plate of chocolate crinkle cookies at your feet, and turned away from your horse as someone had volunteered to cover your shift.

“I don’t know. They seem like a ghost, I doubt they’d admit it to my fave if they’re already putting all this effort into being sneaky,” you reason.

The food and treats that have been left on your doorstep are served on no identifiable dishware, left without a note. The musician plays under the cloak of darkness, choosing to not use their voice and let their acoustic instrument do the talking. All this covert attention would have spooked you, but after having Joel taste test the food to make sure no one was trying to poison you, you began to see the romance in it. You grew relieved to find dinner already made for you when you tiredly slugged back to your house, optimistic to hear what lullaby you would fall asleep to that night. And you would never turn down getting excused from patrol.

“Well, you got me there...” Tommy sighs. Ever the matchmaker, he’s irritated this stealthy admirer has been able to sneak around right under his nose anonymously. He can’t officially pair you up with John Doe.

“Your date’s already at the cabin,” he circles back, not letting you get out of the measly slab of romance he was able to piece together.

“What?!”

“I came from his house. I knew if I came to you first you’d up and vanish into the mountains by the time I told him about it.”

You groan exaggeratedly, annoyed at his accurate prediction. Being around Joel so much, Tommy learned too much about you for your liking sometimes.

You’re not ungrateful for this surprise, in fact you find it really cute and thoughtful. But it’s just not you. With Joel, and this secret admirer - you can barely sort your feelings out for your own sake, let alone for anyone else involved! And now there might be a third interest in the mix, thanks Tommy. 

“So you rudely sprang this on him just like you’re doing to me?” you say with your arms crossed. Who is this other poor soul that’s been ensnared in this trap?

“That’s kind of a weird way to say ‘I’ll go on this date, Tommy’, but yes,” he tilts his nose in the air, far too proud of bugging not one, but two people today.

“I don’t want to do this, just so you know,” you grumble, staring him down, trying to get him to crack. But the longer you glare, the more giddy his stature becomes, his smile widening until his teeth show maliciously.

You crumble in defeat, “Where is this? You said something about a cabin?”

He claps his hands together, enthusiastic to explain, “Yeah, it ain’t the lodge. It ain’t really a cabin neither, just sounds better than an old withered shed we found tucked away in a corner of the woods,” he finishes with a laugh.

“Sounds lovely,” raising your eyebrows in mocking bewilderment. You’re now sort of excited to seize this new opportunity, but will hide your feelings from Tommy if it’s the last thing you do.

“Hey, we dressed it up for you two sons of bitches. Just take the main trail east, follow the stream for a bit, until you get to that great big aspen with the gash in its trunk. Take a left where the trail divides there and follow it for a bit. Ellie will show you the rest of the way.”

Your jaw drops, “Ellie’s in on this?! Oh, when I see her-”

“When you see her you’ll politely follow her, is what you’ll do,” Tommy chides. You can take momentary despise on her all you want, and though Ellie was glad to be a part of this scheme, the man in front of you holds most of the blame; it was his original idea.

“Fine,” you surrender. You guess he really did recruit other people from town to orchestrate this plot.

With all your might you ignore the bemused sounds coming from Tommy as you lace your boots up and shrug on your jacket, grabbing your keys and going to the door. He follows behind you on your way out and chirps, “What, you’re not gonna take any gifts? Try to lube him up?”

Your face scrunches, “First of all, gross way to say that. And second, hell no. Me being there should be plenty.”

“’Atta girl,” he pats you on the shoulder.

Once you’re both out, you lock your door, then turn on your heel and look at him directly in the eyes so he knows you’re not messing around, “I’m going to get Maria to smack you for me for this.”

To your demise he huffs out a laugh, pluming into a white cloud in the frigid air, “Oh, she’s looking forward to this just as much as I am.”

“Screw you both!” you yell over your shoulder, jokingly. As you trudge through the snowy streets to get to the stables and begin your journey to your objectionable present, you don’t look back when Tommy bids you an annoyingly joyous farewell, “Merry Christmas!”

-🎄-

Earlier

"Tommy, I can't do this," Joel accosts his perpetually-meddling younger brother.

The Miller brothers, Maria, Ellie and yourself had gathered at Joel's house this Christmas morning to exchange presents, and upon seeing his brother lingering as everyone said their goodbyes, Joel suspected Tommy was going to let some cat out of a bag. Never in a million years, given how close the brothers have been for their entire lives, would Joel think Tommy would have the gall to suggest a blind date, let alone "gift" one to him.

"Joel, we both know you've taken on much more terrifying things with a brave face. Talking to the woman you love is what gets your tail tucked between your legs?" Tommy nags his eternal bachelor of a brother, watching Joel's scarred hands clutch and release the neck of his guitar with an anxious, cyclical grip. As far as he was concerned, he was doing Joel a favor by planting you two in the middle of nowhere, alone, granting him romantic pretext to work with.

"Like you weren't shaking in your cowboy boots when you started talking to Maria," Joel fires back. Tommy was irritatingly correct, but Joel wasn't going to take the full charge when they were guilty of the same crime.

"I never said I wasn't. That's just a part of love, Joel, you know that. What happened to the casanova that could charm the pants off about the whole population of Texas?"

Joels scoffs loudly, rolling his eyes. Sure, he allowed flirtation to bud and sometimes blossom if he was lucky, when the world wasn't falling apart at the seams, but he wasn't that good. He just had gotten more action than Tommy, something the younger brother refused to acknowledge for what it was. Besides, Joel was never too focused on love; it was nice when it was there, but not as important as other aspects of life: family, for one. However, he's seriously considering rearranging his priorities given Tommy's current behavior.

"That was a long time ago," Joel reasons, truthfully, "This is... different. She's different." He struggles with his words, scrambled by adoration overtaking his heart, and he's fully hypnotized when your face comes into his mind. Your breathtaking eyes that he just wants to fall into; your cute nose whose tip gets frigid in the wintery air that he wants to kiss warm; your soft cheeks he wants to cup with his rough hands and marvel at the difference in texture; and your lips, oh, your lips.....

"Goddamn, you really are in love," Tommy jests, receiving a halfhearted glare from underneath Joel's lashes as he leans his guitar against his couch and crosses his arms over his chest, broadened with an odd mixture of pride and insecurity. Proud of his loving commitment to you, nervous that his true feelings are being perceived by others for the first time after what feels like decades of being a statue.

Okay, it's 99% nerves - he's just trying to seem like the same-old unyielding Joel and doesn't know what to do with his hands so he shoves them under his armpits.

"You're not helping," he cocks an eyebrow at Tommy.

"Alright, alright, just- I was going to say be yourself but that's horrible advice given..." Tommy gestures to Joel's stiff form, earning another hardened stare.

"Okay!" Tommy stands from his chair, putting his hands up in surrender. Dear lord, if convincing Joel is this hard, how much of a fight will you put up? He restarts, "What can go wrong? You'll get there before her; I came to you first because I figured I'd do you a favor by letting you set your stuff up, obsessively run through your conversations in your head, get a lay of the land - you know, you and your anxiety and all that."

"Thank you, Tommy," Joel guesses it's a sweet gesture given the troublesome context, "But..." he trails off, stress still coursing through his veins. There are so many unknowns...

"There'll be overlapping patrols the whole time you're there so no having to fight off infected, you got your six string, your coffee and cookies, it'll only be the two of you...?" Tommy looks at Joel expectantly, waiting for the lines of his face to turn up in hope. But Joel's eyes keep to the box of extra chocolate crinkles he watched you taste on your way to the stables a few days ago, unknowing of the second surprise of pardoned work he had arranged for you.

Tommy attempts again, putting a diverting inflection in his voice, "We tried to make it cozy."

Joel can't help the smile that cracks across his face, growing wider as he imagines what you would be thinking if you were in the room right now, "We're not the romantic type."

Tommy counters with a pointed, sarcastic attack, "Who are you talking about? The man who quite literally serenaded his woman in the moonlight and the woman who near broke down in tears of joy over it the next day at breakfast, or some other heartless souls?"

"Would you stop being smart and listen to me?" Joel's patience has run out. He wants to do this, so badly wants to admit to you his infatuation and present his heart on a silver platter for your taking - but there's some undercurrent of trepidation he can't seem to shake.

Tommy's heart sinks as he watches his brother's arms unfold to hang between his legs, gaze lowering to his boots, dejected. Even if Joel can't go on the date, Tommy won't stop trying to help him navigate these feelings, now that he's gotten lucky enough to have caught them, "You worried she won't reciprocate?"

Joel contemplates the gentle question, taking a few moments to make sure he's got everything straight in his head, "I'm afraid she'll think differently of me when she finds out I'm the one who's been doing all this nonsense," he waves his hand unceremoniously in the air, referring to his secret admirer antics.

"It ain't nonsense. And you've seen her face when she finds your little presents; she loves 'em."

It's true. Joel's caught you humming while doing your work around town the tunes he's played for you under the starry night sky, seared into his brain the picture of you giddy with delight at both the idea and flavor of the food he's left after he "taste tested" it - did you really think he would eat, or let you even think about eating, something a stranger made in the world you live in now?

"Do you think she won't love you back?" Tommy drops the final question. Potent, but essential in answering.

Joel knew maybe you didn't love him in a romantic way. But confidently he knew from the way you sought out his company every single day, the way you hugged him a little tighter when he would leave or just get back from patrols, the way you looked at him... you loved him dearly.

"She already loves me."

"Then what're you afraid of?"

-🎄-

Present

Joel paces the rickety floorboards of the battered shed, restlessly awaiting your arrival. It probably has only been a few minutes since he got here, but his mind has written, doubled back, erased some, rewritten and ran through enough possible conversations with you to last eons. After fatefully agreeing to Tommy's blind date scheme, Joel traced the path his brother directed him to take and was greeted with what seemed to be nothing but a mountain of snow and densely packed aspens. Only by rounding the giant snow drift was the "cabin" revealed, and oh what an improper name. Joel smirked at the poor state of the structure, but observed his brother's logic for choosing it - it was virtually undetectable.

The door took a few well-muscled pulls to open, and after completing an initial sweep to make sure no bandits had discovered this perfect hideout, Joel shook his head at the decor. Bundles of mistletoe line every inch of the miraculously sturdy ceiling beams, making almost the entirety of the singular room a kiss zone. There is a red and green plaid couch in the center, which Joel thought would look atrocious in any other setting, but looks sort of pleasantly festive against the stripped wood interior. Its upholstery has noticeable signs of age, the colors faded to muted maroon and evergreen, but other than that it looks decent - spectacularly holding no stains of carnage after all these years.

As Joel wondered how it survived, he took in the few candles placed around the room, a matchbook sitting next to each one. With the "cabin" (that name will never not be funny) battered by the wind and snow, some of the paneling has warped, leaving microscopic seams to the outside. The winds blustered so fierce, the frost snuck through these cracks, creating an icebox. Joel went around and lit the candles, taking delight in the complementary scents; must've been Maria.

As pinecone and lime, peppermint bark and red velvet began to drift through the air and warm the cabin up - maybe the flames are a placebo effect because Joel is still shivering his balls off - he arranged the items he's brought. He set his guitar up against the arm of the couch, his box of cookies on one of the cushions, his thermos tucked away into his bicep like a stress ball. And then he was faced with the insurmountable, maddening, parasitic task of waiting. He paces back and forth past the door, ears pricked for any semblance of noise disturbance coming from outside. Nothing but howling wind so far, once in a while the pittering of snowflakes adding to the encapsulating drift trick him into thinking he hears hooves, hooves carrying you. But no, so he goes back to pacing.

He makes himself dizzy, sprinting through possibilities of what might happen. He plants his feet steady, hands balancing himself over the back of the couch, trying to fight his nausea. He pins the blame on the sickeningly sweet smell of the candles, but even for his stomach's sake he can't convince himself of something that stupid. You've seen her a million times, he reasons, what's so different this time? You're her best friend, she loves you, she doesn't know, you don't have to follow through with the plan if you don't want to, just pretend like this is all some ridiculous joke. She doesn't know. She doesn't know. She. Doesn't. Know.

Instead of calming himself down, he makes his heart ache more. He's been lying to you. Going behind your back, slinking around unbeknownst to you, fibbing right to your cute little face as you look up at him with all the trust in the world. He puts his fist to his mouth and clutches his stomach with the other, trying to slow his body and take some deep breaths. His efforts are for naught when he hears Ellie's voice carried in the wind.

"Shit," he gasps to himself, pressing his ear to the door to listen.

"You'll never guess! Have fun!"

"Okay, thanks, stay safe!" your cheerful lilt swirls in his heart like the snowflakes outside. Oh no.

He heaves through his teeth, putting his gloved hand to his forehead. It slips from the amount of perspiration, so he takes his gloves off, followed by his winter coat. He lays both on the back of the couch, deciding to keep his flannel sleeves rolled down so you don't notice his tacky skin. Now he wishes he were cold, as this doesn't help one bit. He pats his face dry, replaying Ellie's words: you'll never guess what?

He'll think about it later. Maybe. He doesn't know. He smooths his shirt, closes his eyes and breathes as evenly as he possibly can while he hears your boots crunching closer and closer to the door. Just say hi, he instructs himself, just say hi.

It takes you a few shoves to open the door too. Joel would help, but he can't move from where his feet are cemented to the floor. After you get it cracked, the barrel of a gun peeks inside, followed by your searching eyes. You had the same idea of bandits as he did.

When your wary eyes meet Joel's, all caution melts into disbelief. What the fuck is this, Tommy? you think.

Your best friend sighs, a little haggardly you notice, before he greets you, "Well, well, well."

You put your weapon away in your coat, stepping inside and closing the door to this definitely-not-a-cabin. You smirk at Joel, but heightening candle flames guide your attention up to the ceiling, where bundles of mistletoe are hung. You sneer, "He isn't very subtle, is he?"

Joel clicks his tongue, "Nope. And I bet that was indeed a Tommy touch."

"So you were fed the same blind date story that I was?" you walk around the room, taking in the rest of the place. It surely lives up to the picture that Tommy painted for you, but it isn't so bad. Not when you're here with Joel.

"Yep," Joel looks down at his boots, scratching the back of his neck, a nervous tic of his you've come to find sort of endearing. But why is he nervous?

Please don't notice I'm nervous, he stops as soon as he realizes the hint he's giving you.

"They really couldn't just get you some more sandpaper, or carving tools? Or me some peace and quiet?" you ponder, turning back to him. It's not that this seems all that horrible now, but more like a lot of effort for minimal payoff. This is what had Tommy, Maria and Ellie so doubled over in giggles?

"It looks like we got plenty of that here," Joel smiles at you, tight-lipped, but it stirs up warmth in your belly nonetheless. He's right - wicks sizzling and snow dancing are the only sounds you hear. You mirror his expression, and try to relax a little in hopes he'll become less tense. Maybe he's cold? Why'd he take his jacket off, it's cold as fuck in here.

His chest puffs with a breath before he speaks, "Since we already came all the way out here, we might as well make the most of it."

Your smile builds, reaching your chilly cheeks, "Okay."

Okay, this might actually be the best Christmas gift ever. All alone in the forest, for whatever length of time you want, with nothing to focus on other than Joel? You have to think of a way to thank Tommy without giving him any more ideas.

"I missed you anyways," you go to give him a hug, desperate to bury your face in his strong pectorals, but his hands reach for your coat on your shoulders before you can step into an embrace.

You turn around, letting him slide it off you as you coo over your shoulder, "Ooh, how chivalrous."

He hums, amused, wanting to keep his hands on you, pulsing your muscles between his palms, rubbing your cold skin back to warm, chasing away shivering aches from your bones. To your dismay he doesn't, but you two never shy away from getting cuddly, especially recently due to the season. Maybe you can get cozy on the couch.

"Make yourself at home," Joel gestures to the piece of furniture, which now that you're taking a closer look at it, you see how old it seems to be. You'd cuddle with Joel outside on the frozen ground if you had to, so this plaid relic won't be an issue.

"Thanks," you chuckle, taking a seat. Only two cushions, that means we'll be closer to each other, nice!

"I brewed some of the coffee you gave me this mornin', you want some?" he asks, uncapping his thermos. Your Christmas gift to him was a bag of whole coffee beans from his favorite coffee shop chain he used to frequent. Ever since you had your first coffee conversation with him years ago, he continuously cites that when you grind them fresh it's "so much better". You tease him for the line all the time, but it's one of the many quirks of his that you find irresistibly adorable.

"No, it's your present, not mine!" you remind him. Although his offer was a monumental one; Joel is territorial over and protective of his coffee like a grizzly bear. So much so, you're the only member of such an exclusive club, after Ellie tried a sip and proceeded to spit it out.

"Have you tried it yet?" you ask, watching his careful hands fill the cap. No steam rises from the surface - iced, just how you like it. You try not to get mesmerized by the way his long fingers grip the makeshift cup, bounding off into your fantasy land where those same fingers are wrapped around your own, your quivering thighs, your neck...

His timbre knocks you out of your trance as he comes over and takes the seat next to you, "No, but-"

Everything happens at once: Joel sits down on the couch; there's a bizarre cracking sound that fills the room; the two of you share a worrisome glance; you both go tumbling back as the sofa's legs give way. With the couch now sitting on its back, your legs are in the air and you're staring at the mistletoed ceiling. Laughter strikes through you like lightning and only gets more thunderous when you look over at Joel, blinking slowly, trying to avoid getting spilt coffee in his eyes. His grin grows exponentially, as do his uncontrollable cackles ruminating from deep in his chest, while he lies in place, literally soaking in the experience.

"Goddamnit," he grunts through a smile, setting his empty cup down.

"Oh my god, are you okay?" you lean over him, having difficulty seeing him through the tears squeezing out of your eyes.

"Yeah," his tongue darts out and licks his drenched mustache, "Mmm, good roast, thank you."

"You're welcome," you guffaw, pulling your shirt sleeve taut over your hand, your lip between your teeth and patting the liquid off his face - thank heavens he wasn't in the mood for hot today. Your sleeve will dry in time, much like his shirt will have to do too. You're violently struck with the thought of him taking it off, putting his hairy chest on display for you to ogle at in the romantic candlelight. You hope he can't feel the aroused heat radiating from your cheeks by how close you are as you finish cleaning him up.

Just kiss her, Joel's brain yells at himself while his eyes rake over your beautifully concentrated face, take the opportunity while it's inches away from your reach.

He can't do that to you though, spring something so brash on you out of nowhere. He's not Tommy.

In no time you right the couch together, sitting with your backs against one arm each, legs stretched out and intertwined, weighting it to the floor. Joel pours himself a refill, putting on a show of being overly cautious, which makes you giggle.

"At least I'll smell good," he grumbles up at you from under his lashes. You wish you could appreciate his joke more, but his saturated shirt clinging to his muscles is tormenting your sanity...

"You always smell good," you spit out without your brain's permission. You hurriedly pivot, trying to quash the minute uptick of his brows, "Um, so how have you been? Patrols easy?"

Good, that's a regular, sane question, you congratulate yourself. You haven't seen him for more than a few minutes at a time for the better part of a week, both your duties ramping up as the entire town wanted to have everything taken care of and then some for the holidays.

"Yeah, for the most part. Clickers are like most pests, they retreat when it gets too cold. It's the bandits that get desperate, lookin' for shelter, that you gotta watch out for. I don't want to jinx it but there's only been two individuals that we came across, died of natural causes. Nothin' to worry about."

Throughout his speech he's been running the tip of his finger around the rim of his cup, embarrassed that you're staring. If only he knew.

"How've you been, my little busy bee baker?"

His nickname engorges your heart, pumping praise through your veins. The part you fixate on is "my". You're his.

"On my feet. Thankfully I've only been baking like crazy, someone's been picking up my patrols for me."

"Oh?" Joel puts his best acting mask on. If he could steel through your unintended interrogations before, he can evade you for just a little bit longer.

"Yeah, I get to the stables on my scheduled days and they tell me to go back home, that someone's volunteered to take over my shifts. I wish I knew who they were so I could thank them, I wouldn't have been able to make all of my cookies without their help." Your Christmas present to everyone was personal boxes of homemade cookies. Crafting cookie boxes was one of your favorite things to do before the outbreak, so you thought you'd spread some nostalgic holiday cheer this year.

"Well I'm sure they got their due compensation by way of some of the extras you left over at the church hall."

He was a good boy - he only ate what was in his box and left the extras for the town. He really needs to get that lemon cookie recipe from you though, or better yet, truly indulge himself and ask you to come over and bake them yourself - it wouldn't be a complete lie if he told you he wouldn't be able to make them the same; he can't tell a teaspoon from a tablespoon.

"I hope so."

You and Joel sit and chat for a while, exchanging pleasantries about the weather, anecdotes about your days; topics that sound like they're utilized as a pillow for awkward conversation, but your energy flows gracefully with Joel's, like always.

Bringing it up again like it's the joke you know it to be, unaware of the effect it has on Joel's heart rate, you inquire, "So what were your tactics to seduce your date?"

He pauses for a moment, passing it off as a shared laugh with you and not a dive into an anxiety-riddled black hole before answering, "Reel her in with my natural charm, of course."

"Of course," you nod.

"Maybe crack some jokes, you know, because I'm a funny guy."

"Hilarious. Did you take a look at one of Ellie's joke books?" Joel had told you about the first of her findings, now she has amassed quite an impressive collection.

"No."

"Ugh, talk about missed opportunity! There are some good ones in there."

"Well I figured I wanted my lady to fall in love with me, not the book, so I'd tell them from the heart," he looks directly into your eyes, not wanting to give you any inclination that he might be harboring some unseen lovestruck magma beneath his rocky exterior.

"Oh, how romantic!" you tease.

"And then I brought this," he fishes his guitar from behind himself, stretching back with a groan, "Figured I could strum a song or two and see how she'd like it."

At the incredibly rare occurrence - thank you but still fuck you Tommy - you leap, "I'm your arranged audience, lemme hear!"

Joel sets the guitar in his lap, picking a familiar tune from the chords before he can stop himself. As the notes gather into a song, you come to anticipate the next strums, guessing correctly every time. You've heard this before, but where.... And then you remember. The night where it was so fucking cold you pitied your Romeo who was buried somewhere in the snow beneath your window, braving the temperatures to lull you asleep. What a weird coincidence.

It is a festive song that was immensely popular pre-outbreak, so it's not as strange of a fluke as you first thought. You sit and stare, admiring Joel's fingers dancing, his eyes glued to the instrument to watch what he's doing. You both know he could play blind, but thankfully you breeze over this extraneous, damning piece of evidence, for if you were to look in his eyes, you would see the admirer within.

Fading out, he pats the body with a concluding thump, "Do you think I would've swept her off her feet?"

You shrug, not keen to feed another Miller's ego today, "Maybe, if you had sung."

"Nah, that's reserved for at least date five."

"Ohhh okay," you chuckle. Not a romantic my ass, Joel.

He turns the tables, "What were your plans to woo your partner?"

"Um... well I wasn't going to put much effort in because... I-I already have feelings for someone in particular, and I figured he would never agree to something like this," you stammer, honestly, staring at the certain someone in question.

Confidence is injected back into Joel's face on a bright wave of intrigue, "You've got a crush?! And didn't tell me, your best friend?"

He sits up straight, eyes wide and mouth agape in a smile, messing with you, "Your reaction is exactly why I didn't tell you, dork."

"So you weren't even going to try with them? Oof, that's cold," he playfully scolds you.

"Looks who's talking, Mister Iceberg."

He ends his taunting at that. You certainly aren't wrong.

A few comfortably quiet moments pass, then you shiver with a laugh, "I actually am cold."

His beard scrunches in a smile, favoring his jacket to yours and tucking it over your shoulders, running a hand over your bicep once, twice, before reluctantly retracting it to his lap. You wish you could steal it; you'd bite past the tough material and sleep with it if it meant you could snuggle into his residual heat, the worn-in scent of fir sap, wood shavings, black coffee.

He whacks the primal, possessive urge inside him down like a mole, his blood stirring just looking at you in his clothes. He'll dream of you dressed both in more of them and less of them tonight.

The candles in the room have burned a substantial amount of their wax, the sun still shining bright but from a narrower angle behind the clouds continuously dropping snow. Maintaining the front that you're angry at Tommy for this is going to be near impossible to accomplish. You can already see yourself wishing on the stars next year for this very same gift.

Okay, maybe with a more comfortable sitting arrangement. While the tumble was funny and allowed you to get close to Joel, your back is killing you. You can't imagine what Joel's must feel like right now. Later tonight, when you've returned to town and after having dinner with him and Ellie, you'll direct him to lay down on his bed - like after any other intense patrol - and work the knots out of his spine.

"I'm happy we're here," you blurt. Suppressing your delight is useless.

Joel relieves some of the pressure in his heart, "Me too."

Goddamn that drawl brings you to your knees. Sure, it makes your stomach fill with butterflies every time he opens his mouth, but sometimes it mercilessly shoves you onto your back. You rally yourself and press forward boldly, "I'm happy you're here."

His expression doesn't move, sending a shallow ripple of alarm through you. He  seems a bit off, usually he gives you a smile or something.

Holy fuck, his brain shouts, holy fuck, holy fuck, holy fuck, holy fuck.

"I, um, brought some cookies too," he chokes out. He's about to reveal his big, stinking secret, and while it won't be quite verbal, that somehow makes it ten times more anxiety-inducing. Clawing talons of fear in his throat tempt him to take you by the shoulders and just scream 'I love you!'

Shit, you thought. Was what I said really that bad? You helplessly try to stick the bandaid back on the wound while Joel is preparing to rip it off.

"Wow, you were really going all out," you reference all the stops he had planned for his hypothetical date. Lucky son of a bitch.

"Yeah," he shrugs, trying to keep the tin steady in his clammy hands, "Would you like one?"

"Sure. Are they mine and you were going to pawn them off as yours?"

Your cute joke goes right over Joel's head as he pries the lid off, swallowing thickly and holding it aside so you can reach in and grab a chocolate crinkle. Never would he think of a cookie being sadistic, but his disconcerted soul is claiming otherwise.

Like the shattered powdered sugar coating, your conviction cracks. No way this is a coincidence.

You look up to Joel to find his side profile suspended in worry. You feel the gears in your head turn and he swears he hears them moving at a frightening speed, "Di-did you make these?"

"Mmhm," his throat is tight. He's made of marble, holding the tin open, unmoving. He knows you know and you know he knows you know.

A handful of silent beats pass, regrettably dangling him in suspense, but you're completely dumbfounded, "Why didn't you say anything?"

"I- I was afraid. Still am," he puts lamely in his opinion, bravely in yours.

"Don't be," you assure gently, placing a hand on his rigid forearm. Like an ax, you snap him free of immobility, pushing the incriminating tin away.

He layers his hand over yours, rubbing his thumb across your knuckles and back again, calming himself more so than you, "You know me, you know I have a hard time expressing my... emotions."

He snarls the last word like having a heart that beats is something to be ashamed of. You do know him, and flirtatiously retort, "Sure didn't seem like you had a hard time expressing them outside my bedroom window at midnight, sneaking around my house in the morning, rigging the patrol schedule behind my back..."

Your welcoming smile spreads to his face, "Why are you always right?" he grumbles.

"I have to balance you out somehow if we're a couple. Opposites attract, right?" you lean in, flicking your eyes from his hazel puddles to his mouth and back again. He reads the unmistakable cue and meets you, pressing his lips softly to yours.

On the second kiss, he molds his mouth to yours firmly, allowing a moan to reverberate up his throat. You sound one back as he pulls you forward, situating one thigh outside each of his so you're straddling his lap. Wrapping your arms around his neck and his around your waist, you lose all concept of time, your mouths dancing infinitely... before Joel abruptly breaks you apart.

"Hang on."

"What?" you pant.

"We ain't under any mistletoe," he muses, scooting you off the couch to directly under a bundle. Brushing your hair away to reveal your face, he gazes up at you in awe, his body finally at peace - but not for long, when you break out into a smile and him a sweat.

"You really are a funny guy, Joel Miller," you tease against his parted lips, feeling his confirmation vibrate your tongue as you go in for another kiss,

"Hilarious."

main masterlist ♡ join my taglist!

💘taglist: @pedrostories​ @pascalpanic​ @maievdenoir​ @tenderwhat​ @melody13522 @your-voice-is-mellifluous​

#pedrostoriesgift22 #pedrostories #joel miller x reader #tlou joel #joel tlou #joel miller #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fanfiction

[psychedelic-ink]

'𝒕𝒊𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒅𝒂𝒎𝒏 𝒔𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒐𝒏

pairing: frankie morales x f!reader

genre: romance, holiday fic, mutual pining, neighbor au, fluff, smut

word count: 4.5k

summary: you've been crushing on your handsome neighbor for quite some time, but even if you've made your intentions clear, it doesn't seem to get through to him. However that all might change when his flight gets canceled and the two of you spend the holidays together.

warnings: idiots in love, oblivious!frankie dirty talk, messy oral (receiving), feral!frankie but also sweet!frankie best of both worlds, a dash of competency kink king of pussy eating frankie (tag courtesy of kay)

a/n: I was the pinch-hitter secret santa for the amazing @the-ginger-hedge-witch sorry that this ended up being a tinsy bit late but I hope you enjoy it all the same! I did have a blast writing your prompts and I hope I did it justice 💜💜 Merry Christmas, I hope you have a splendid year 🎅

thank you to @pedrostories who hosted the event, and special thanks to @pedrito-friskito who cheered me on while writing and edited it for me, ilysm ❤️❤️❤️ happy holidays! ♡♡♡

my prompt was; mutual pining, home for the holidays.

A week until Christmas, excitement buzzes within the city, laughter and cheer booming within the square a large Christmas tree stands. But unlike the rest, you don’t feel a particular sense of excitement. Snow starts to fall and you walk quickly as you thread through the crowd. You’ve gotten groceries and a couple of decorations that tickled your fancy. You weren’t excited, but you weren’t sad either; you just didn’t have any special plans, but that didn’t mean you wouldn’t be having a good time eating and watching your favorite holiday movies. 

You struggle to push open the door to your apartment, your arms weighed down by the heavy shopping bags, and you can feel your balance start to falter. You take a step forward, but before you know it, you're stumbling, your feet slipping out from under you on the smooth marble floor.

But before you can even think to cry out, you feel a pair of strong arms catch you, steadying you on your feet. You turn to see Frankie, your neighbor and the object of your long-standing crush, standing there with a concerned look on his face.

“Careful there, neighbor,” he says, his deep voice sending shivers down your spine. "Are you okay?"

You nod, trying to compose yourself as you stand there, leaning against him for support. Frankie has always been a good friend, always there to lend a helping hand or a shoulder to lean on. But despite your close friendship, your feelings aged like a fine wine. 

You've had a crush on Frankie for months now, and while you've always assumed that he's not interested in you in that way, you can't help but hope that maybe, just maybe, there's a chance for something more between you. However, your previous attempts in trying to ask him out ended with failure; he was either too preoccupied with something to notice that you were asking him out, or he just assumed you meant it as a kind gesture. 

You either sucked at it or Frankie is the most oblivious person you know. Honestly, you assume it’s a little bit of both. 

“Do you want me to help you out with those?” he asks, gently pushing you up so you can stand on your own. 

“I wouldn’t want to trouble you…” 

He dismisses your worries with a wave of his hand, your eyes linger on the small bullseye tattoo he has between his thumb and forefinger. Whenever you see it you get the urge to press it like a button. 

“As you can see I have perfectly functional, empty, hands—It’s no trouble whatsoever,” 

Frankie leans forward and ignoring your protests, takes all of the grocery bags from your arms. You feel the brush of his fingers across your knuckles.  He smells of pine and mint, and it takes you all of your self-control to not bury your nose into the crook of his neck. Your eyes momentarily flutter close when he pulls away, your heart swelling in your chest. He begins to make his way up the stairs and you promptly follow. 

“You’re too kind, thank you,” you say wanting to make pleasant conversation. “Do you have any upcoming plans for Christmas?” 

Are you fishing for information? Absolutely. You just can’t help it.

You notice the way his muscles go rigid, a nervous laugh follows and he continues his way up the steps, each one echoing. “My mom and dad begged me to come over so I guess that’s my plan— Which is fine…I just haven’t seen them in a while,” 

This piques your interest and you want to ask more but Frankie is quick to change the subject. 

“What about you?” 

“You’re kinda carrying my Christmas plans,” 

Finally reaching your floor, he stops and looks down. He deadpans for a moment, considering what to say, which you find adorable. You grin at the way he nervously chews on his bottom lip, his gaze lifting up to meet yours. 

“Why do you look so worried?” you grin. “I’m actually quite excited to relax and spend some quality time with myself.” 

Frankie’s eyes drop to your lips, he mimics your expression, his smile soft and endearing. He hands you your groceries and nods. 

“That’s good, I’ll be leaving on the 24th so if you need anything by then feel free to come and knock on my door.” 

“Thanks, neighbor,” you answer, watching him walk towards his own apartment door. “I’ll see you later then.” 

With a sigh of relief, you drop the bags to the floor as soon as you close the door. Your back is pressed against the solid wood of the door, and you slide down slightly, your legs feeling weak and shaky after your run-in with the ever-faithful Frankie. You hate the fact that deep down you were hoping that he would be staying here too. It’s a silly thing to want, but you thought that maybe if he was going to stay too, you could’ve finally made your intentions clear. 

You let out a sharp laugh, and look up to the ceiling. Frankie is just a helpful guy, a nice and kind neighbor, and that’s probably how he sees you as well. A person he can come to to borrow salt and olive oil from time to time. 

Not wanting to wallow in self-pity, you pick up your groceries and head for the kitchen. Maybe you will take him up on his offer and give him a visit. You could be out of sugar perhaps? A perfect excuse to knock on his door. 

But as you stand there, holding the bag of sugar in your hand with the intention of putting it in the cupboard, you realize that your plan has a major flaw. Frankie saw your heaping pile of groceries, and he knows that you have more than enough sugar to last you a month.

You groan; finding a decent enough excuse is going to be harder than you thought. 

Frankie sits on the couch, the rough fabric scraping against his skin as he sinks into the cushions. The living room is scarcely decorated, the walls bare, and the only adornment is a sad-looking tree in the corner. He groans as he checks his phone once more to make sure he’s not dreaming; he sees the notification that his flight has been canceled due to the weather. Outside, the snow is falling heavily, the flakes visible even in the fading light. Frankie is positive he could fly in this weather. If he still had his pilot’s license. But he doesn’t, and even if he did, he would’ve needed a helicopter, which is something he obviously doesn’t have. 

He dreads the thought of calling his parents and canceling his trip, feeling like he's trapped in a cycle of disappointment. The room is getting darker by the minute.

But Frankie's frustration isn't just about the canceled flight. It's also about the fact that he hasn't seen his neighbor since the day he caught her almost falling down the stairs. He had thought there was a spark between them, a bit of heat, but maybe he completely misread the situation. Ever since the day he moved in, Frankie has been infatuated with her. She’s funny, kind, and even helped him move in a few boxes when he first arrived; the boys were late, and yet there she was, ready to offer a helping hand. 

He was ninety-nine percent sure that you would come knocking on his door. 

He sinks further into the couch, his shoulders slumped and brow furrowed. He’s an idiot. He feels defeated, annoyed, and most of all, lonely. 

Just as he's wallowing in self-pity, he hears a curse echoing from the apartment hallway and a series of loud bangs. He straightens his back, the taste of bile lays heavy on his tongue as the sounds continue. His first guess is that the sounds belong to an intruder. Silence fills his apartment, he stops breathing. 

A minute later, after a series of muffled grumbling, someone knocks on his door. His shoulders relax, muscles going limp as he stands up. When he opens the door he finds his neighbor standing there, teeth chattering and covered in snow.

Her eyes sparkle when she sees him, “You’re still here!” you gasp. “Thank god! Like the idiot that I am, I forgot my keys when I left this morning and now I’m locked out. Can you help me?” 

It takes Frankie a good amount of time before his brain starts to work again. You look so small hugging and rubbing yourself for warmth, looking up to him with hopeful eyes. He swallows, his throat feeling thick as he tries not to think about more unconventional ways to warm you up. 

“Frankie?” 

He blinks quickly, a breathless chuckle falling from his lips. If she wasn’t staring at him like a deer in headlight he would’ve slapped himself. “Y-Yeah of course—Just let grab my tools really quick.” 

Just as Frankie turns, he stills his movements and meets your gaze. 

“Would you like my jacket? It’s probably warmer than what you’re wearing right now. It might take me a while to get the door open.” 

When she nods he swears he hears his blood rushing down to his cock. Her—In his jacket? He isn’t a possessive man by all means, but the thought alone makes his fingers twitch and nostrils flare. Without saying another word, he quickly grabs his toolbox and one of his jackets, one that’s thick and plush.

Frankie can't help but feel a little bit guilty for being happy that she was locked out and had to turn to him for help.

You stand and watch Frankie work, and you can't help but be mesmerized by the way the dim hallway light seems to dance across his chiseled features. A hint of stubble shadows his jawline, giving him a rugged, masculine appearance that makes your heart race. His tongue peeks out from between his lips as he works, a small gesture that only serves to intensify the attraction you feel towards him.

You can smell him in his jacket, a heady mix of soap and pine that makes you feel hot just by staring at him. The way he expertly toys with the lock prompts you to shift on your feet, not really knowing what to do with yourself. You can barely concentrate on what he's saying as he tells you about his flight being canceled.

"I can't believe it," he says, clearly frustrated as he twists a screwdriver in the lock. "My folks were looking forward to spending time together, and now I'm stuck here."

"I'm sorry," you say, feeling a twinge of guilt, however, you’re not sure why. "If there's anything I can do to help, just let me know."

Frankie gives you a small smile as he continues to work. "Thanks," he says. "I appreciate it. It's just frustrating, you know? I feel like I'm stuck in this rut, and no matter what I do, things never seem to go my way."

"Hey, I know this is a long shot, but do you want to spend Christmas with me?" you ask suddenly, the words tumbling out of your mouth before you can even think about it.

Frankie's eyes go wide with surprise. "Really?" he says, looking skeptical.

You nod eagerly, feeling nervous at the way he’s looking at you. 

"Yes— I mean, you’re stuck here and I was already planning on spending it at home. And well…if you don’t mind watching cheesy movies with me I think it could be…fun?” 

Frankie looks down at his hands, seeming to think it over for a moment before looking back up at you with a smile. "I'd love to," 

"Awesome," you say, grinning back at him. "I'm excited. We can bake cookies, and just relax and enjoy each other's company."

“Cookies?” he asked with an amused smile. 

“It’s too late for you to run away now, you just said yes.” 

You grin at the way he laughs, his hand stilling as he tries to cover his mouth with the back of his hand. The sound alone makes you feel that it was worth it to lock yourself out. 

“Even if I wanted to run where would I go, cariño? I can’t go anywhere with the storm and I live right next to you.” 

You feel your cheeks grow warm at the endearment, your heart swelling in your chest.

You don’t believe in miracles, but this certainly feels like one. 

You and Frankie are both sitting on the couch. You realize he’s scanning your apartment, thus far having only seen the entrance. The living room is bursting with Christmas decorations, twinkling lights, and colorful ornaments adorning every surface. There's a small tree in the corner, its branches laden with tinsel and glittering balls. It's a cozy and welcoming sight, which was what you were going for.

"Wow, you really went all out," Frankie says, taking in the sight of the room with a smile. "It looks amazing."

"Thanks," you say, grinning back at him. 

Two mugs of hot cocoa topped with whipped cream stand on the coffee table. You sink down onto the cushions, pulling a warm blanket over both of your laps as you huddle close together. The room is dark and quiet, the only sound is the soft clink of your mugs as you take a sip.

"This is perfect," Frankie says, snuggling closer to you as he wraps his hands around his mug. "Much more stress-free. Is it bad that I’m not that mad anymore at my flight getting canceled?"

You can't help but laugh. "I think the hot cocoa might have gone to your head," you tease, nudging him playfully.

"Maybe," Frankie says with a grin. "But I stand by what I said. I'm lucky to be here with you."

You feel a warm glow spread through your chest at his words. You never expected to spend the holidays with someone as wonderful as Frankie. 

“I’m lucky too.” 

Silence follows your words and you take a sip of hot cocoa. There’s definitely sparks flying all around you, there’s no way you’re imagining the heat that is continually building. You cross your legs, your knee brushing agains his thigh. You desperately try to come up with a conversation topic, your eyes scanning the room for inspiration. 

However, all you can think of is how your knee still rests against his thick thigh, the way he effortlessly unlocked your door for you, and the way he laughed in the hallway. Your brain is screaming at you to just confess, tell him that ever since you laid eyes on his beautiful face that you’ve been smitten. 

But instead, you do something else. 

You do something stupid. 

You see his tattoo. 

And you press it, like a button— Luckily, you only make the boop sound internally. 

“What are you doing?” 

Frankie looks at you, reasonably, confused but smiling, his lips slightly curved up with one eyebrow raised. You open and close your mouth, only high-pitched noises leaving your lips. His gaze drops to where you’re still poking him, the tip of your finger still pressing into his inked skin. You swallow and quickly pull your hand back, wrapping it around the mug. 

“I–I–” you stutter, biting the inside of your cheek. “God, I’m sorry— It’s just I didn’t know what to say and I always wanted to press it—like a button– In my defense, people are programmed to press stuff they’re not supposed to—” 

You try to explain yourself in one breath, in the end, your lungs burn, your chest heaving as if you’ve been running a marathon. Frankie stares at you a beat longer, then he takes your mug from your hands and places both his and yours back on the coffee table. You think that he’s going to leave and that he thinks you’re crazy and will never speak to you again. 

He leans closer, his arm now resting against the back of the couch, fingertips brushing your shoulder. "It's okay," he says, his lips curving up in a smile. "I know what you meant. It's just a tattoo, no big deal."

"I'm sorry," you say, shaking your head. "I don't know what came over me. I just couldn't resist the urge anymore."

Frankie gives you a wink. "Well, I'm glad you didn't resist," he says. "I’m not gonna lie, I kinda liked it."

“You did?”

He nods. “I did.”

He’s very close, the space between you crackling with electricity. You find yourself looking at his lips, which he parts as his gaze meets yours. Your heart is pounding in your throat, the ringing in your ears almost deafening.

“Do you…” he swallows thickly, his palm now fully covering your shoulder. “Do you appreciate anything else?” 

The corners of your vision seem to darken as if you are looking at him through a filter. The lights from the Christmas tree shift, bathing the two of you in a warm red glow. Your stomach is tight with anticipation.

“I do,” you speak slowly, softly. 

“And what might that be?” 

“You,” 

“Yeah?” 

You can see literally sparkles in his eyes. His voice is light and hopeful, you’re not sure but you think he’s inching closer. You nod as you wet your lips. 

“Do you appreciate anything?” 

“I appreciate you.” 

His fingers touch your cheek, thumb moving to the corner of your lips. The skin he touches tingles, a sharp sensation that has warmth pooling between your legs. 

"Can I kiss you?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Yes," you breathe out, your eyes locked on his lips.

His fingers tighten around your shoulder, the bite of his nails sharp through the fabric of your shirt. A barely there moan escapes your lips, the anticipation of this moment finally coming to fruition too much to bear.

When his lips meet yours, you feel a wave of heat wash over you. The taste of hot cocoa is on his lips, rich and velvety, and you find yourself moaning even louder as you wrap your arms around his neck. You've been waiting for this moment for so long, and now that it's here, all pretense of self-control leaves you.

He deepens the kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth as his hands roam over your body. Fire ignites within you, burning bright and hot, and you can't help but press closer to him. His touch is electric, leaving you dizzy and breathless, and you find yourself clinging to him as the kiss grows more and more intoxicating.

Finally, you pull back, gasping for air. You're left feeling dazed, your lips tingling and your body humming. You curse that you need oxygen to survive, you would much rather lock your lips with Frankie until death comes to claim you. 

Frankie isn’t doing any better than you, panting with swollen lips. His pupils eat away the color of his eyes, blown with arousal. 

“You really want this?” he asks, blinking as if he’s trying to convince himself this isn’t real. 

“Frankie, I’ve been wanting this since the first moment I laid my eyes on you,” you smile, touching the hand that still rests on your cheek. “I thought I was being obvious. I did ask you out, you know,” 

Frankie looks taken aback. "You did?" 

You nod, still smiling. "Yeah, I asked you out for coffee…then there was the time I tried to hint that I had too many leftovers and that I wished someone would join me…I hinted that I was free when you mentioned you had to go to Benny’s boxing match…"

You watch with delight as all the insistence you just mentioned strings together before his eyes. His mouth falls, his eyebrows lifting as his eyes go wide. 

“Oh shit. I’m…I’m an idiot. I’m so sorry, I genuinely had no idea. I– I also thought I was being obvious when I told you to come by if you needed anything. I wanted you to come over.” 

“Really?” you chuckle and touch your forehead. “I thought you were just being polite.” 

“I guess we both have to get better at this. So how about I take you out for dinner tomorrow when the weather clears up a bit?” 

“Does that mean I have to wait until then to kiss you again?” you ask, pouting and attempting at your best version of puppy dog eyes. 

Your eyes light up when he laughs. “Absolutely not, querida. Come here,” 

He spreads his legs as you move to straddle his lap, his hands drop to the curve of your ass. Squeezing, he guides you to roll your hips. The contact isn’t much, but your eyes still roll back at the drag of his length, already hard underneath his sweats. Your lips meet with desperation, your hands cradling the frame of his face as he forces you down against his lap. You whine into his mouth, nails grazing against his skin. Frankie licks the seam and pushes his tongue between your lips, every movement he makes is led by hunger. 

Your skin burns with his touch, hand guiding the sloppy roll of your hips, you grow wetter and wetter by every passing second. The lights turn blue, you notice the sharp lines of his face soften. 

“Frankie— Can we— Can you—” 

He drags his lips down to your neck, teeth gently nipping the front of your throat. A pleasant shudder overcomes your body, a blissful sigh dropping from your mouth. 

“Tell me what you need,” he murmurs, fingers playing with the waistband of your sweats. “I want to give it all to you. Whatever you need— My mouth, my fingers…my cock,” 

Your eyes flutter close, “Oh god,” 

He chuckles, tongue tasting the salt of your skin, his fingers dip under your waistband and gently caress the skin. You shiver. 

“But I can’t do any of that if you don’t tell me,” 

“I—I want it all,” 

His grin makes your stomach roll, “Greedy.” 

That’s all he says before helping you up and guiding you towards the… bathroom, in which you then guide him to the actual bedroom. You’re still giggling about it as you’re falling to the bed, the weight of Frankie’s body soon following. 

“Very suave,” you say, his lips leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses down your neck. “You fuck all your neighbors in the bathroom?” 

“It was a mistake,” he growls, but his tone is playful. “But if we’re being honest, I’m not above fucking you in every room of this apartment,” 

The series of images your brain provides are downright sinful. You tremble, legs closing around his waist, hs grins is wide when he leans down and nips at your chin. 

“You like that?” he coos. “Maybe that can be my gift to you? Would you like that, bebita. Me, fucking you in every corner— Your pussy dripping and making a mess of the hardwood floors—” He cuts himself with a sharp inhale, a moan following. Frankie laughs and shakes his head, avoiding your gaze. “I think I turned myself on too much. You were supposed to be the only one affected,” 

“Well, I am definitely affected. If that helps,” 

“You’re amazing, you know that?” 

You blink with surprise, lips parting with a gasp. Before you can even process his words, or say something in return, Frankie's hands are on your waist, his fingers deftly pulling at your shirt.

You feel a rush of excitement as he undresses you quickly, his hands moving with a sense of purpose. Your clothes fall away from your body, becoming a pile on the floor. You watch as Frankie undresses, his muscles soft but there, his stomach rounded and perfect for kissing. 

He slowly moves down from your chest to your stomach, his facial hair tickling you as he moves. He cups and squeezes both your breasts, lips leaving wet kisses across your mound. Your pussy drools with anticipation, the inside of your thighs a glistening mess by the time Frankie drags his tongue between your folds. You clench around nothing at the way he groans, tongue moving up and down your sex. His fingers dig into your thighs, forcing your legs up his broad shoulders. 

Frankie latches his lips, tongue flicking over your clit again and again. Your moans come out choked and garbled, your legs trembling as you accidentally dig your heels into his back. You fist his hair, the knots in your stomach tightening when he moves his lips around, and you see a glimpse of a shine coating them. You hold your breath when he looks up, soft brown looking filtered, and he dives back in, swirling and flicking his tongue as he loudly sucks and gulps— you can hear him swallow eagerly, and your head falls back to the pillows. 

You lose yourself in the bliss, the sin of it all making you willing to die at the touch of his lips. His tongue, his mouth, the sting of his nails against your skin— It all snowballs and crashes into you, building and building until you can’t contain it anymore. You vaguely hear him whispering between every lick of his tongue, you pull at his hair again, his muffled voice now clearer. 

“You taste so good,” he says, words slurring. “So fucking good— You’re gonna feel amazing around my cock, so warm and— fuck— wet,” 

“Frankie—” You lift your hips, your body desperately seeking his mouth. “Please, need to come. Please please please,” 

“I got you, sweetheart, don’t worry. You’re doing so good, so so good,” You feel his breath on your wet pussy, you squeal and squirm. “Say it. I wanna hear it.” 

“Wha—What?” 

You’re completely out of it. You manage to lift your head to meet his gaze, your neck feeling strained. He’s looking directly into your eyes, a ghost of a smile cheating at his lips. 

“Repeat it,” he says as if it’s the most obvious thing on earth. “Say that you’re doing so good for me,” 

“I’m…I’m,” you swallow and breathe out from your nose. “I’m doing so good for you, so so good,” 

You don’t expect the wave of arousal that washes over you, Frankie hums and presses his lips into you once more and draws your aching clit into his mouth. You repeat it again, a series of ‘so, so good’s coming out slurred. Your head falls back; you are doing good. So good. Frankie’s tongue feels like velvet, heaven between his lips. 

You just can’t take it anymore. 

You come with a cry, his name coming out sheer from your throat. Without meaning to you press him into you, he doesn’t seem to mind— In fact, it looks like it edges him on because he moves his mouth faster, almost frenzied. Your head spins, cunt gushing and flooding his mouth. Your body becomes rigid, then limp. You fall back to the bed, legs falling and arms feeling lifeless. Frankie kisses your pussy, the sensation of his lips gentle and comforting. 

“How was it?” he asks, his face coming into view. 

“That was great,” you breathe out a chuckle, still feeling disoriented. “You have quite the mouth on you,” 

“Hmmm, I bet yours is better,” Frankie leans in and gives you a quick kiss, nuzzling your neck. “What are your thoughts about part two?” 

“I think I need to catch my breath first,” 

Frankie chuckles, his breath tickles your skin and you smile. 

“I did promise I would fuck you in every room.” 

#pedrostoriesgift22 #pedrostories #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales x you #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales #triple frontier fic #triple frontier fan fiction #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier fanfic #pedro pascal character fic #pedro pascal character #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

[rise-my-angel]

Binding Opposing Foes

Pairing: Ezra x Female Reader

Length: 15.1k

Warnings: enemies to lovers, magical fantasy au, only one bed, smut, oral (f receiving), p in v, threat of violence, angst with happy ending, hints of a breeding kink

Notes: Made for the lovley @supernaturalgirl20 for the Pedrostories secret santa 💜. The length got away from me as usual, I am so sorry. Hopefully it's something you end up enjoying!

Any hint of peace you awoke with this morning was quickly dashed the second you made it to the market. It was a quiet walk there, through the clearing of trees near your home there was a hint of fog remaining that sat on the forest floor. The air was cool and crisp that was mixed with dew that still dripped from the leaves. You got to enjoy the time it took to get to town only to have it dashed the second you approached your little nook. 

The tiny open clearing shoved between two well constructed vendors with fine, rich wood stood out against then soft fabrics hanging down as makeshift walls and one spread onto the floor to cover the stone pathway you occupied. Whatever tables and chests you kept there though, were turned over, tossed around and the tall narrow shelf had been knocked over to forcefully part if it sat in jagged pieces. 

The man next to your nook, just arriving had seen the state of your shop and the instant upset plastered all over your face and just chucked before ignoring you once again. You weren’t popular and you knew why, but the other vendors wouldn’t do this. There was only two options as to who would be responsible for it and one of them was quickly approaching, the streak of blonde against his dark hair stood out even from a distance. 

If Ezra or his men were responsible for this, at this point you might just give up. Leave town and never come back. 

Busying yourself, you now sat on your knees trying to match the broken wood to the remainder of the shelf hoping it wasn’t beyond your ability to fix. You already knew you’d have to repair it yourself, or somehow bargain desperately for a new one and end up dragging it across the market alone anyways. 

“Now who would let a misfortune like this fall upon such a prestigious saleswoman?”

You hated when he did this. His polite yet ecliptic vocabulary suddenly turning needlessly formal and condescending as if to mock you for your lack thereof. Glancing up, Ezra stood with an arm resting against the side of the other vendor looking around at the mess. You didn’t need this right now, not from him. “Go away, Ezra.” 

You didn’t need to look back up at him to know he grinned at you, the few steps he took inside already putting him rather close to where you knelt. You could see his feet, dirty yet formidable boots just at the bottom of dark trousers the only thing in your eye line. 

“Now is that anyway to greet a helping hand?” 

Jaw clenching, you refused to give him the satisfaction of having to look up at him from this position, as if he were too good to stand face to face. “What are you gonna do, rip down my rugs from their walls to finish the job? Haven’t you done enough?” 

His chuckle that followed infuriated you. He still didn’t even try to meet your eye, instead choosing to pace around the rest of the space inspecting what he could. “Now birdie, you aren’t insinuating that I am responsible for such a mess? I’m insulted, I thought we knew each other better than that.” 

Squeezing your eyes tight for just long enough to catch a deep breathe, you opened them only to see the beginnings of the usual early risers wandering into the street. “Why wouldn’t it be you? Either you did it out of spite because I wouldn’t give it to you, or you came looking and trashed everything trying to find it yourself.” 

You think he might be directly behind you now, the prickling feeling against your spine that screamed at your vulnerability. “On the contrary, I asked politely if you would be willing to share your goods for a fair trade. Saying no was a valid choice on your part, I have no reason to punish you for it.” 

“As if you care about getting permission.” You muttered under your breath but his chuckle would have been warm and comforting if he was anyone else. Ezra side stepped around the shelf and stood at an angle to watch both you and the street. 

“I think you’re mistakening me for the only other gentleman petty enough to throw a tantrum such as this.” Ezra knew who did this as much as you did, but blaming him was easier then accepting that the real perpetrator would only escalate from here. “You should be grateful that he still doesn’t know where you live, birdie.” 

The sounds of cheery voices got louder as more people trickled into the market, looking to take advantage of the best items and produce before it was picked off. Some of which, started to look your way. Judgmental laughter and whispers that pointed towards you made your eyes sting. You didn’t want to be mocked right now, all you wanted to do was go home, but even then you had to stay and fix your nook. No one else certainly would. 

“I have things to do Ezra. We both know you’re not going to help me, so just go rally your men and stampede through the woods or whatever you do.” Alright, that may have been you acting petty this time. You knew what he did for a living in detail just like he did you. It was probably the only reason he was one of the few people who would talk to you in this town, if only to put down your failures for his success 

Peeking a glance up, you could see his jaw shifting in thought. His eyes squinting as his head turned up into the rising sunlight, and turn on his heels to leave. Not before suddenly flipping up one of your smallest tables onto its feet, slamming his palm down on the top to show off how unsteady the wobble had become from being tossed over. 

A grin once again plastered over his face, he shifted it right in front of you to an innocent wide eyed look. Pointing at the wobbling table as he took his hand off of it, “You should really buy a new one, that’s rather unsafe to have around like this, birdie.” 

Ezra didn’t wait for your reply, he knew you wouldn’t. He simply walked out into the market, a light curious look gracing his features as he meandered to other vendors, happily chatting with the likes of who would never give you the time of day. 

It didn’t take brains to know that anyone passing by stared at you and whispered to one another as you tried setting everything upright. He was right though. The cheap little tables you owned were in bad shape, the threat of something with any real weight may topple the legs over for good.

The shelf you didn’t know how to fix. Your home was filled with furniture crafted from stone that existed in the cozy hut when you came across it for the first time. You had to plea with the carpenter for days and products of value at least four times greater then the cost of his cheapest work. But you needed something, and that day you had spent the entire afternoon dragging the furniture across the length of the street. 

You weren’t quite so sure he would even give you that this time, you were far less liked now than you were then. Most people considered trading with you as cursed, only the ones in specific need or an uncaring courage would even approach you for business.

Even then, they usually traded in spare food or run down fabrics hardly of use to them anymore. Almost never coin. The outsiders or ones passing through town the only ones who bought in coin, but just because they didn’t know of you. 

Eventually, you neatly stacked the broken shelf into the back and pushed the tables up against each corner to keep them steady for the remaining day and night until you found a way to fix it. 

It was humiliating to leave, your bag of items still strung across your shoulders as full as when you arrived. You were right, the carpenter wanted nothing to do with you. Not even gracing you the privilege of speaking to him inside, rather he elected to lean out the door that was just open enough of fit his body. 

You tried elsewhere, offering any trade or coin you had to even buy simple tools to try and fix it yourself, but no one budged. The only people willing to accept anything were produce stands who were constantly flooded with people. It at least let you try and blend in with your quiet asks and gentle payment that you could buy what you could before they realized and told you to get lost. 

You chose to do simple foraging for the rest of the day, wandering the patches of field not yet cut down and plowed over by the magistrate. You were always spoiled in lavender here, and it was going to be a sad day when they finally decided to lay it over as more land for his estate. 

The sun had set on your journey back. The market empty save for those just passing through in the darkening sky. Chattering and joyous laughter echoed through the stone from the tavern, no doubt the destination of most. Keeping your head down, you only looked up to peek inside your nook to make sure the mess wasn’t back. 

In fact it was the opposite. Your tables were gone from the corners and the pathetic pile of broken wood removed. Instead, all set up in the exact way you would lay things out was fresh wood. Walking in you immediately trailed your hand over the tables.

They weren’t just smooth and well carved, they were strong and unmoving. A quality wood was used to make these. And right near your lone stool, sat a shelf. The same woodwork and strength on the make of it, but the shelves now instead of sitting thin and sometimes too high for your reach, they were wider the insides more deep and barley went above your height. 

You bit your lip in a contrast of joy and apprehension. This was more than you ever would have asked of these people and it was going to be so wonderful to be able to set everything out so nicely and without accidentally shaking things against the other. 

On the other hand, you also didn’t know who did this. You were pretty sure it wasn’t Ezra. He in all likelihood wasn’t the one who threw your stuff around, so he also had no reason to replace it. The only other one who could have done this, would only then replacement as a trick. 

If it was him, no doubt the next time you came into town, you’d be summoned to his home, and graced with his generous gift to you only to ask for something in return. But the things he would want you feared. He wasn’t a kind man or even just a good one. Just selfish and greedy with no regard as to how he got what he desired. 

The magistrate was not to be trifled with, and not only had you on too many occasions made an enemy of him, but he also had no qualms about his glee from extracting revenge. Ezra wasn’t much different, but at least you were confident enough his revenge for you would be more akin to sabotage then physically harming you. Either way, you walked much quicker home then normal. Checking around you many times to see if you were followed. 

By the time you arrived it was pitch black. If someone had been watching you, they wouldn’t be able to get in was the only assurance you had. Your palms were pushed up against the wooden door, only turning your head enough to look out at the darkness around you. 

You never could see it yourself, but you felt it. Almost like a shock, a pulsating wave of energy surged through them was the only indication you had of what you were doing. To any onlookers, they would just see a strange golden glow flash over your eyes, and a ripple of the same gold quickly flash around the perimeter of your home like a fire. It flashed into existence in an instance, and circled around your hut and disappeared just as quick the further it went. Like a tail following the light. 

You finally went inside, and the only evidence of life to be seen was the gentle orange flow of light peeping through the closed shutters. Your only solace within the small space, but enough to keep your heart and mind from spiralling too far.

While leaning over to peer into the fireplace where a large stirring pot hung above the coals, a memory popped into your head. Ezra had approached you one day outside your hut. You had been placing small piles of feed around the backdoor steps, enticing the curious squirrels to come closer to you. 

Just as a particularly friendly one was slowly making it’s way close to you, something behind you had startled it away. It was only a second late that the distinct shuffling of feet in the grass had you whip around, wide eyed and almost immediately out of startled breath. 

It was the first time you had seen him alone, no large brutish men at his side waiting for any preferably aggressive order. His bright brown eyes gleaned in the sunlight as he took in your small abode. “Hard to imagine such strange and powerful concoctions have been so beautifully crafted in such an unimpressive structure. You didn’t respond, just clenched your hands in the clothes at your side as he turned his head to look at you nonchalantly. “The inside must truly be a wonder.” 

He didn’t make a move to go inside, but you shifted just slightly to have a better chance at beating him to the door if necessary. “What I do is none of your concern.” 

Ezra smiled, a typical response to your irritation towards him. “Oh quite the contrary, what you do is of great interest to me. Especially when it is my territory you are encroaching on.” Before you even had a chance to speak, he begun pacing around the outside of your small back garden. “Don’t you give me that look, birdie, you know exactly where I am talking about.” 

You did, but calling it his territory wasn’t fair. He had no right to claim what was apart of nature. “You can’t just kick me out because you got there first.” 

Ezra’s head tilted to the side, a pretend doubt crossing his features before making his pace direct towards you. “You twist my intentions here, I come here not to conquer, but to bargain.” He stood over you, feeling more tall then he likely was.

He was a large man with a broadness to him that took up much of your view. The glint in his deep brown eyes always crafting an agenda he kept to himself. You had once overheard a conversation about certain...endeavours he engaged in, but they had walked away before you learned anything else. So the softness of his features that framed his face so pleasantly made you all the more angry. 

“What could you possibly offer me that I’d want?” 

Ezra smirked, leaning close enough to feel every exhale. “Protection.” 

Looking back on it, you knew he had been purposely vague. You had yet to have any problems with someone other then Ezra and his men, but he knew better. He knew exactly what would start to happen should and when the magistrate learns of your existence but he didn’t even have the courtesy to warn you. 

Your face fell further and further into a glare. “I don’t need protection, and I don’t need pity. You take what you need from these creatures by force, I don’t. I have no reason to be fearful from anything except men like you trying to trick me.”

His face didn’t change, at least from a distance. Up close though, his eyes narrowed just the slightest, a darkness brewing in the corners of them that made you uneasy. You couldn’t show it though. “It’s not your talent I’m doubting birdie, it’s your naivety that has me extending an offer.” 

The conversation didn’t last much after that. He knew right away that you felt insulted and took more than a few steps back from you, arms out in surrender. “I mean no offence, simply just looking out for a fellow collector such as myself.” 

Your head was beginning to hurt, “You don’t collect anything but to willingly hand it over to men somehow worse than you. I don’t create anything harmful with what I have and I don’t need to shed any blood to get it.” 

Ezra opened his mouth but you had enough. “Go away. I have things to do, and I don’t want you lurking around for any of it.” 

The darker look faded to a discernible one. It was softer and much more downtrodden, but you struggled to put any distinguishable feeling to it. He raised his hands high in almost a wave as he back away. Reaching the end of what you circled out as your land, Ezra looked towards the piles of left over seeds, then to you as you stood perched on the bottom step. “Best be careful with feeding these ones, get them too familiar and they’ll dig into your garden crops like vultures.” 

Ezra had been a continuous adversary every since. Always holding his upper hand over you with confidence and leaving helpful hints or tips only to rub in how much better he has fared in the same work you do. 

Only now in present times, you had something over him even as small as it was. A little something that made you keep your shutters closed to the world, and create a barrier from any greedy hands from finding out. 

The next time either of you ran into each other, the sun was looming low in the sky and you had at least some modicum of success in what you sold. Mostly trades today but enough coin to procure some winter seeds to add to your storage. Surprisingly, you had very little trouble. 

The new woodwork was exactly as it was put, you were able to give people their specific requests. Shockingly, most people who wanted to avoid you suddenly were kind and forgiving when they came to you to help with a specific ailment. They didn’t know why your small vials did more to help than anything the town doctor could treat, but when they needed medicine they always came sneaking over to you.  

You always did it, no matter who asked you of it and yet it never changed how far they would go to stay away from you afterwards. 

It was right as your hut came into view that you saw him. His broad stature leaning up against the stone wall, a troubled look on his face. You paused in your step, staring at him with wide eyes and a heart beating faster and faster. He typically left you alone here, but the sudden feeling of being watched the night before reared its ugly head. 

You stepped slowly, looking at him distrustingly despite him never moving. “You. You were watching me last night. Why? Did you hide here or just follow me home?” 

Ezra shrugged to himself as he pushed up off the wall. “It’s been a time since I’ve found my way around here, the work you’ve put into this is quite extensive. You should be proud.” There was no threatening manner as he came to a stop in front of you, but his eyes watched you almost like he was caught between the now, and lost in a distant thought. “The protective charm even moreso.” 

Panic flooded your veins and swam all the way into your heart. The townsfolk threw cruses of a witch at you, but all baseless accusations. You didn’t know anyone had seen it for themselves. You wanted to step back, maybe run from him but there was no use. He wasn’t done anyways. 

“I have something I would like to talk to you about, but I suggest we do this in the privacy of your own home. It pertains to our...line of work.” Ezra's eyes darted around him with a suspicious glean. 

“Why would I ever let you in where I live? You’ve never given me any reason I could possibly trust you-”

Ezra stepped into your personal space so quickly you had no time to back away before he was leaning close into your own face. “I’d keep your voice down, birdie. The trees have ears, afterall.” 

So what you thought. You had no doubt Ezra likely had men hidden around him no one could see or even know about. “They know what you know anyways just say what you want then leave.” His eyebrows raised almost in warning to play along with something you didn’t know the rules to. “Just get this over with so I can go inside.” 

His eyes once again seemed to squint, scrutinizing something behind you before leaning back into your space, a hand finding it’s way to rest on your arm. As you tried to flinch away, Ezra yanked it back with little force as he spoke low and commanding. “Either you let me inside to speak with you calmly, or I can walk away now and let the magistrates esteemed crew of untrained degenerates finally catch up and do it for me.” 

You bit your lip, the thought of how they knew where you lived now darting in your brain. He only could have found it if Ezra was the one to tell him. But standing here in your face, he insisted once more. 

“Just a short talk, birdie. One collector to another.” It was so fast you almost missed it. A blink of colour swirling through his eyes and gone again, shined bright in your face the glow of gold that you saw in your own doings. 

This was something else entirely. He didn’t just know about you, he recognized it from himself. Looking away you tried to peek to the side to see anyone else around but you stood in the front of your hut alone. You didn’t look at him as you nodded, but he let go of your arm as he stood back to proper height. 

You hesitated by the door. There was no going back after this, you couldn’t hide what was inside but you had a heavy feeling in your chest that he was here about that very secret. So you unlocked your door, and made just enough room for him to come inside. 

Before closing, you peered out to the treeline. Nothing still in sight, but a shimmer of gold trailed itself along the ground anyways.

Locking behind you, you pressed your back against the door fingers tapping at the wood as he strode around. The ceiling not many inches higher then he was, and his broad frame took up much of the space. Peering at the kitchen which mostly consisted of shelves along the wall stocked full of an assortment of things, and the even smaller counters also full with bowls, pots, and anything and everything you needed to store your medicinal liquids. 

The most notable part was the large hanging pot set firm in the fireplace with a few chairs surrounded by far too many books on the floor then you were okay with, but it was small. The half shut door to your washroom was just as uninteresting as anyone elses, and the closed door to where you bed lay went unseen by his investigation. You knew Ezra lived in a proper house, on real owned land with space for anything he desired. This must be pathetic in comparison. 

“Cozy, very cozy. I am indeed impressed, once again I might add.” The stiff troubled look on his face had almost died completely now that you both were tucked inside your hut, but you still felt rigid wondering when the first noise from your closed room door would become too distinct for Ezra to not hear. 

“What do you want, Ezra?” Your voice smaller and weaker then you wished it was. 

His fingers trailed over the stone slabs carved into seats of some kind around a carved in table to the wall. “I had a visit from the lovely magistrate himself this morning. He seeked the answer to a question I knew I shouldn’t answer, but I had only just been rudely awoken. I wasn’t quite ready to be so propositioned to early.” 

You had yet to move, but your eyes glanced to the door every few seconds as you let him speak. A thing he was always better at then you. “You see, he’s been using my own, creations,” Ezra almost gestured in a silly manner as if subtly hinting at the one thing you both already knew the other did. “He also, has requested your own kinds on more than one occasion, testing the use of both to see if his own, lets say..indiscretions could be better treated. At first there was no one vial better then the other. Our work was equally matched.” 

His head looked up to your worry one, but not in mockery, it appeared to be a compliment. You could insult him all you wanted, but he did work just as hard as you to acquire and create your vials of ailment. You also knew where he was going with this story. 

“But not long ago, something changed. He would praise my work up and down, each time showering me with gloat and greed for my offering, only to then show me my work he had been using. And find out it was actually yours.” He paced very slowly around the small space once more as he now looked anywhere but you, a deep furrow in his brow as he spoke again.

“Not a very observant man for someone claiming to be as prestigious as he. He was quite rattled by the revelation, and just today has demanded I find out how you’ve done it and either bring you to him myself, or take your work from you by force.” 

Unknowingly you had slunk back against the door, trying to make yourself smaller as the stupidity fell over you. Everything should have been so obvious but it wasn’t until now. 

His men had always called what they did hunting dragons, but it dawned on you that Ezra never did. He only called what he did collecting, much in the way you just said you collect from the creatures you work alongside of. 

Your mixture of slow and steady kindness and finally a shared understanding of over worldly ability, did take what you needed as you left gifts in return. Tales of dragons painted them as fierce destructive creatures but most lived in saved solitude, wanting peace as much as you did. 

Something about the almost ethereal bodies of water that sat within the caves held some properties not found in the nature around you otherwise. Their eyes casted gold matching displays of shimmer, and you now realized that it must have reflected in their eyes making you one in the same. 

“He doesn’t know about you. That I never spoke of.” You were still pressed up against the door, but Ezra stood in the middle of the room, nonthreatening and doing no more then gently tracing his eyes and fingertips along innocent surfaces. Your muscles were stiff as you pushed off, pulling your bag over your shoulders. 

He watched you hang it across the corner of a bookshelf, no real space around you to put it anywhere proper. You weren’t sure you were brave enough to come closer, in fact you weren’t sure you ever wanted to be near him again after this. He knew about you because he was one in the same and yet he continued to align against you for money. 

Your voice was quiet, tight and rigid as you almost spoke through your teeth knowing where this tale was headed. “But he wants to know what I’ve done to make my vials so drastically different.” Your eyes met this time, and he appeared a tad guilty for reasons you couldn’t discern. “And you’re here to get that information by force. Right? That’s how your men do all of their work.” 

Your body jolted upright as Ezra suddenly stalked towards you, slinking coyfully like a snake for attack. “My men, are merely brutes who once worked for the great magistrate himself. Gifted to me for protection after being gifted the firsts of my work. They work by force, I however, am far more interested in the journey then skipping right to the climax.” 

His smirk had a darker tone lurking behind it, but not one of danger. You didn’t know why he was toying with you that way though. Just taking advantage of towering over you in such a small inescapable space. If he heard how hard you swallowed your nerves, he didn’t move or peep a word on it. “I offered you protection once, and by now I’d have assumed you understood it wasn’t from me. Not a quick as you claim you are.” 

You wanted to be angry at his condescension, but your brain hazed over with a confusing fog that offered no solace. “Why would you care, you don’t even like me.” 

A dark tone remained, but also glazing over with a much more familiar amused grin. “Now when have I ever claimed such a thing, birdie?” He gave a full laugh at your deepening glare.  You knew he was toying with you, but why did he have to do it here in the sanctity of your own home? 

Ezra had the audacity to reveal a huge secret about him and expose that he knows one of yours, and yet here he stood giving you the same treatment he always has as if nothing’s changed. Unfortunately for you, opportunity struck at the worst time possible. 

Tiny chirps echoed from the closed bedroom door, before morphing into squeaky roar like growls as your other secret vied for attention. There was no escaping this one. Ezra of all people, knew exactly what that sound was. His head swivelled to face the door, a curious look spreading across him as he took a step to the side. He faced you but was making his way over. 

“Now what on earth I ask, could possibly make such a notable sound hiding away in the only room I have yet to be shown?” 

You fidgeted in place, crossing and uncrossing your arms before finally sighing deeply with your head hanging low. “You know exactly what that is.” 

Looking back up, Ezra wasn’t looking at you in superiority, nor nefarious and smugly. No he was looking at you in an almost curious awe. He didn’t make any other steps towards your door but neither did you.  He was sent here for one reason, and if not for you he’d likely take this as compensation. The magistrate wouldn’t do any good with it. He has no idea how to work with a dragons ability, he’d end up killing it. 

 Your voice was just a tiny whisper. “You’re just going to take it from me.” 

If you didn’t know better you’d say Ezra looked sad, almost shameful for giving you such distrust. He only said two words, and you knew that no matter if you were equally matched, he was bigger and stronger and he would overpower any fight back. 

“Show me.” 

Chest constricting, you disguised your panic and pounding fear with a steeled, flat gaze. You made the small way to your bedroom door hand paused at the handle and other palm pressed against the wood wishing you could apologize to your companion in advance for what you were bringing in. You felt Ezra presence at your back, but sighed without turning your head to him. 

“He’s gentle with me, but please don’t be forceful with him. He panics easily.” The man gave no response and you weren’t sure if it was out of focused curiosity, or he simply didn’t care about your request. Pushing the handle, you walked into the room as you opened the door to see what the fuss was all about. 

He was small, still a baby. Not even a foot long in length or even wingspan, and skinny with little scales to show off. His high pitched roars only were able to come out as somewhat of a coo, which purred softly at the sight of you, only to cause him to hiss and fling his small body back against your bed as Ezra came in behind you. 

Instantly you knelt down closer to his height on the bed, a shushing noise coming from you. “It’s okay, it’s okay. Come on, it’s alright.” At this point you tried not to help him up, he wanted to do it himself getting used to his wingspan proportioned oddly with his small stature. 

Ezra behind you sounded in awe, a tone akin to a dry croak as he whispered with no trace of malice or intent. “How on earth did you secure such a creature?” 

Your tiny friend tilted his head at you, making you smile. You sat down on your knees to allow him to hobble up close, communicating in a cooing that you had come to learn was suspicion. Ezra appeared in your side view, but only slightly bent at the knees as his hands rested on them. He seemed to understand the creature was wary of him and didn’t come over to quickly. “This is why you’ve come up with such powerful creations. You’re not just trying to add to their properties, you’re creating alongside them.” 

Your friend hopped to look at Ezra with another head tilt. Seemingly taking his respect and curiosity as no hostile intentions. Slowly Ezra bent down more to crouch beside you as you spoke. “Not really them, just this one. I didn’t even realize I had him until I came home one day from the caves. He must have snuck into my bag and hide until he knew it was safe.” 

Ezra furrowed his brows as he peered at you without quite taking his eyes off the infant dragon. He knew you weren’t talking about anything you did. The only other humans who dared to venture into a dragons cave was himself and the brainless brawn that had been assigned to assist him. “I was in another cavern then you. I don’t even think you knew I was there. Your men were yelling and screaming somewhere not too for away at what sounded like a very angry adult dragon. I also could hear you yelling at your men in even louder anger but it was too muffled through the cave walls to understand.” 

The infant dragon stepped closer to the edge of the bed, his feet carried him closer to the safety of your familiarity, but his small slit gaze eyed Ezra and his hands that rested in front of his body still not breaching the bed’s edge. “I don’t know why he was alone, but I think the sounds scared him. Something must have made him trust me, because I hadn’t even realized I had company until we were here.” 

For one, the man beside you was rather silent. His usual ability to find endless things to speak on suddenly quelled by the strange series of events unfolded in such a short amount of time. So you took over his role, filling the void with the only thing you could. 

Hoping desperately that if you softened the blow to him, just maybe he could convince the magistrate to at least to try and not harm him. “There's so much more they can do, Ezra. It’s like their waters is just one aspect of their ability. Just drops of blood or a tear, even the flame is something else all together. Like the ones we see is just defensive, but I’ve seen him gently blow out a blue almost green colour. It’s like they have all of this just inside of them, but-” 

Ezra interrupted with an affection you’ve never heard from him. “But it’s like they need someone with out abilities to create something out of it.” 

Your tiny friend finally took tiny hops over to him, his gaze falling from what he likely thought was a flaring dangerous slit in his eyes back over to the brightness inside them. Ezra still didn’t reach out to touch him, and it didn’t go unnoticed how respectful he was being. 

A side you’ve never seen before, or not at least to this extent. He was competitive with you to an infuriating degree, but you had to give him credit that never once has he tried to sabotage your own work. You were starting to think it should count for something. 

The silence was palpable but not uncomfortable. He and the dragon looked at one another, almost communicating in the same ways you did with the small creature. It left an odd feeling in your chest. How close you both were in such a vulnerable moment that almost no person gave you the time of day to experience. 

A fondness crept up in your throat that you didn’t appreciate, he was only being kind to manipulate you into giving you or your companion up without a fuss or fight. You needed to remember that as you watched Ezra smile so genuinely at the dragons little huff. His wings flapping and a hop in place you knew what he was asking for. “I assume your new partner wishes to find a home near your fireplace.”

 You turned to look at his side profile only to startle at how close he was, looking directly at you. “Judging by how cool it is in this room, especially now that the sun’s left us.” Not thinking twice, a motherly instinct took over as you stood up instantly and put a hand hovering over the creatures back, prompting him to the edge of the bed. 

“Come on, let’s try this again. You’ve gotten so much better at it since last week.” You bent over closer to his head to murmur much quieter. “It’s not going to hurt you remember? That’s why we put the rug down, you can do it.” 

Wiggling in place, the small creature flapped it’s wing and jumped. Only to fair a few centimeters in distance before losing his steadiness and tumbled to the ground. Just like you reminded him, he wasn’t hurt by it. But embarrassed? Absolutely. Much like a cat, he scrambled onto the wooden floor and took off in a pattering sound to his favourite spot curled up just in front of the fire away from the scene of the so called humiliation. 

Which just so happened to be in the middle of the largest free space. You’ve learned quite quickly to forge a path around tight gaps and strange angles to climb over. 

Ezra came right beside you, his arm so close to touching yours that you felt the warmth radiating from his skin. His voice deep and almost a raspy quiet near your ear. “It’s miraculous what you’ve done. These aren’t easy creatures to gain so much trust in, but this one looks at you like a mother. And you love him like one back.” 

Your head whipped around to him in shock. His voice was an admiration never given to you before from him, and his eyes swam with a genuine affection you couldn’t quite name. His dark eyes bore into yours unwavering. As if he saw right through whatever walls were in place and carved it’s way right to your insides, and it was too much for you to handle. 

Looking away, you crossed your arms over your stomach and shuffled your feet. You weren’t sure if he even heard your tiny plea. “I’m going to miss him.” 

But he did, and Ezra’s face fell into a conflicted frown that let a kind of heart wrench peek out from it. You hadn’t gotten but a few feet into the main room again when you both heard it at the same time. A bundle of voices in uniform tones. 

For the briefest of moments, you had seized up. They had never found you before, and you hadn’t thought to take any precautions when leading Ezra inside. He on the other hand, wasted no time. 

His large stature allowed him to get to the front window shutters in but a few steps, his body flat against the wall as he peeked out of the cracks. A distinct golden flash in his eyes. You don’t know why, but for just a moment, you wondered if yours looked just as beautiful or if it was just an extension of his own. 

Shaking it off quickly you stepped over to the door next to the window he looked out of. Hands fumbling with the locks, not even having the foresight use the very abilities they likely were seeking you out for. 

Whipping around your eyes blazed in fury, “You said you were here alone, you told me you came here alone that I wasn’t going to be taken by force,” Fire blazed in your eye but your trembling voice, the unsteady shake of your hands told a story of hurt and betrayal. “I knew I shouldn’t have trusted you, you just wanted one thing from me-” 

Ezra invaded your personal space with a dangerous look of warning as he seemed to command you silent with a slip of your name past his lips. “This was not my doing. I told you he would rather steal you from your own home, but I implored him to let me go in place.” 

You shook your head and tried to back away, but there was really nowhere to go. The hut was small and the door was pressed up against a flat wall. “You’re the only one who knows, about me, about here.” Ezra's hands reached out in the air to placate you but realization dawned in your eyes. “It was you, last night you were the one watching me, you destroyed my stuff? For what? To scare me into thinking it wasn’t you? To trick me into gaining your trust so you can lead them right to me?” 

Your voice grew and grew into a shattering panic, but Ezra all put pushed you against the wall with his step forward. Dark eyes infuriated and a snarl willing itself onto his face. “I protected you. I kept his men away from you, don’t you dare stand there and accuse me of forcing you into anything.” 

The sounds of voices grew louder and as you turned to open the door to attempt a protective charm, Ezra snatched your wrist in mid air and gripped it tight. “Ezra I-” 

“Already have done it myself.” At your shifty gaze to the door again he pulled your wrist in closer. “You were panicked and froze, I took up the mantle myself.” 

He still refused to let go of your arm when you tried to pull back again. His body was still and unmoving as much as his heavy gaze on you as if this didn’t at all phase him. “I didn’t freeze, let me go I’ve casted one several times-”

His face leaned into a mere inch or two from your face, he hand pulling your arm behind him enough that it forced your chest far closer into his own. The slightest sensation of this thumb running over your skin sent a shiver through you as did his low tone. “I didn’t say it was a bad thing, birdie. I am perfectly capable of taking care of you.” 

A tiny hiss spat out, and the two of you looked to the fireplace to see the tiny creature lifting his head up just enough to watch Ezra with hostility. Hand still in mid hair, he let go of you and lowered his own slowly in the creature’s view. It seemed satisfactory as he once again curled his long neck up onto his body looking like a lumpy ball on the floor. 

A beat of silence passed between you. There wasn’t an aggressive attack towards you nor was there more shouting or orders passed around. Ezra’s hands sat on his hips as he looked down slightly, giving you a modicum of space. “I wouldn’t worry much, those appear to be meager footmen not soldiers of any effectiveness. They’ll simply watch and pray for you to come out willingly until dawn hits and they need to return.”

Luckily your new friend seemed unaffected by any of this. Sleeping soundly in front of a cozy warm fire, uncaring about the current situation. Most likely he’d stay asleep until early morning when he knocks over things in your tiny kitchen seeking easy food. 

“You uhm,” your fingertips tapped against your legs as you avoided eye contact. “You’ll need to stay. I might not be able to make a new one in time if you leave. Especially empty handed.”

Ezra nodded understandingly, he turned to the room and once again found himself milling about the small space, not even needing to watch his feet as he comfortably stepped over the green lump on the floor. “Good thing you have such generous accommodations for such an occasion.” You rolled your eyes as your body relaxed in a slump. “I’ve always felt as if the rough edge of a stone stool makes for a tremendous resting spot.” 

Your arms crossed against your stomach once more as you walked into the other side of the room, not like it made much of a distance between you granted. “I- you’ve been...kind..today. Other days, I don’t really..it’s been a strange evening.” 

“That it has.” His calm unchanging demeanour was either an inhuman blessing or a purposeful tool to stay one level above you. But you had no energy to fight him for it. 

You ended up by the kitchen and tapped your fingers against the little counter space untouched by clutter. “I don’t have much to offer, but I have a little bit of stew and some day old bread I got from the market today...” 

It was awkward, offering him such normal things in your evening routine, but he was kind enough not to make jabs at you for it. He did however, narrow his eyes slightly. “Now birdie I know for a fact that very seller makes his bread fresh into the evening.” 

You shrugged your shoulders, but turned to busy yourself in gathering what was left of the stew made the day before. “Not like he is going to sell his finest or freshest to me of all people.” You muttered just under your breath, but not enough for Ezra’s fine hearing to catch it. “Him or anyone else.” 

Your back was turned, missing the frown he gave as well as his quick appearance behind you. You almost jumped at the sight of him so close. His large hands quick to hold onto your arms gently to keep anything from spilling over. 

Without removing his hands, they slid down the length of your upper arms to your hands as he kept eye contact. “I’ll assume you can trust to let me handle the act of pouring liquid into pot and scooping it back out.” 

This time your eye roll was less annoyed and for closer to playful as you nodded, and let him take it from you. Only turning long enough to realize he would need a ladle, and seeing you already grabbed one for him. 

“I’ll leave you to the bread.” 

The next little while was actually quite peaceful. Ezra’s comfortable silence as he knelt by the fireplace watching for a boil. Not even the interruptions of silence as he mindlessly chattered at the sleeping dragon bothered you. 

He steered clear from today's events. Choosing to go about the casualness of his day, and prompting you with genuine questions about yourself. Questions you found yourself easily answering without hesitation. It wasn’t long until it felt like a real conversation, and it didn’t even occur to you how strange it was compared to the usual hostility between you both. How easily warmth and laughter was shared when your greivences were set aside. 

Ezra was quicker than you to get used to it, he was almost making you second guess the ways he interacted with you. Making you wonder how much of that hostility stemmed from just you. There was a guilt there, the wonder of how much of his hostility did you deserve for the way you’ve treated him first. 

That was a feeling which grew louder the longer as the evening turned into night. You couldn’t let him sleep out here, there was no space for his broad stature and the only thing not with a stone base was your bed. It would be large enough, but the idea made your heart beat and your nerves to tighten. 

You’re head was muddled about him tonight but the idea of treating him as uncaring as you might have not too long ago suddenly didn’t sit right with you. Ezra had been milling about your space, commenting on your storage and ingredients, how well you’ve utilized such a small space for how much you do. 

He was mostly stalling as it grew closer for you both to go to bed, he didn’t want to make you feel awkward by going to sleep as you watched him find whatever space he could make for himself. Choosing to stay awake and preoccupied to spare you that, only you may not have given him that chance. 

You whispered his name, once, twice, until you knew he couldn’t hear you from your nervous spot at your door. You feared chickening out, so your mind blurted it out for you. “You should sleep in here.” 

He looked at you, a raise of his eyebrows at you hands wringing together in front of your open door, body standing to the side enough that would allow him room. “I understand perfectly, birdie. This is your sanctuary not mine, I have no need for-” 

“No, like...in here, with a bed..” His intense eyes with that unblinking stoicism had you nibbling on your bottom lip trying to sound more confident then you felt. “It’s...I told you that you’ve been kind to me today, even when I don’t really deserve it.” 

You weren’t looking at him, so you missed Ezra chomping at the bit to argue with you on that point, but you powered through those nerves anyways. “You shouldn’t sleep out here, that wouldn’t be fair. It’s the least I can do.” 

Your muscles felt like they tingled at the tender smile on his lips, making his way over to the lantern by the kitchen and blowing it out. You stood frozen watching him, his broad frame taking up so much room in this small space and his watchful eyes barley moving from you. He stood in front of you, his chest so close to yours and his face searching for an answer you didn’t know the question too. 

You seemed to square up as he leaned in, your eyes wide and unknowing to you, but flashing over with a desire he knew all too well. He was so close his nose almost brushed against yours before he raised his chin just over your shoulder to blow out the lantern by your heads. 

Now the only thing keeping the hut alight was the glow of the embers in the fireplace, and the much smaller flame in the one lantern in your bedroom. Ezra gestured for you to go ahead of him, casually pressing it against your lower back as he followed you inside. 

You quickly moved away from the side of the bed he was near to stand by the window, opening the shutters slightly more. Glancing over at him you just tilted your head to the sky outside, “So it’s not completely dark.” 

Ezra broke his gaze on you as he knelt down to take his boots off, as you merely slipped off the flat ones you wore in seconds. For a moment before he stood back up, your hands automatically went to untie the strings of your front before realizing you weren’t alone. Ezra had looked up to see a hesitation, hands fiddling with drawstrings that would reveal far more skin then he’s ever seen on you. 

Moving right up to the bed, Ezra just nodded for you to go around to your side. “I take no issue with keeping everything on if that’s what you are most comfortable with.” He peeled off his outer layer to show only his thinner long sleeved shirt underneath. The collar of the shirt undone and perhaps undone a far bit more then a commoner might deem acceptable. Without any other obstructing articles of clothing on his upper body, the skin exposed on much of the middle of his chest hummed with the orange glow of the room. 

Nothing else was taken off as he climbed under the sheets, his body leaning to sit up and watch. “It’s your bed, birdie. I want you to be relaxed.” 

“Relaxed?” 

Ezra lowered his head in almost a lecturing appearance, “Comfortable, birdie. I want you to be comfortable. Just lay down for me.” 

Why were your nerves so on fire? Why were you feeling this way towards Ezra of all people, no one in this town ever gave you enough mind to stir up this tightening warmth inside of you until here and now. But you climbed in otherwise. Slowly moving down to rest on your side as he watched you. 

“Ezra?” With a shake of his head whatever thought he was lost in went back out of focus. “The light? Could you?” 

Craning his head to the side, Ezra twisted just enough to blow it out. Setting the room dark, with the only light being streaks of a blueish tint from the moonlight. 

It didn’t take long for both of your eyes to adjust, and it was hard to ignore that the bed wasn’t large enough to create a wide gap between you, and that you both lay on your sides facing one another not yet asleep. 

The length of Ezra’s hand was the maximum amount of distance between your bodies and even in the moonlight you could see his brown eyes and their penetrating gaze on you. You tried to look away from his eyes, but instead of just closing them, you lowered them only to find yourself looking at the outline of chest that was exposed. 

Neither of you said anything, but there was no fooling. You both knew the other was wide awake. Your body felt tense as if it screamed at you to move more, but you laid so perfectly still that the arm pressed under you ached in the pressure. He was close and his features were so much more predominant in this glow.  

Not just the blonde against the dark hair, but his nose that framed his softness so handsomely that it made looking away from him a difficult task. His lips were hard to see, but you kept fighting to push back the images of how plump and soft they always were. 

You didn’t notice that you had started to shiver, but it wasn’t from the cold. Your nerves shook from this strange warm need and the fight against how complicated it made you feel. “It’s cold, birdie. Come closer, I run a twinge warmer then the average.” 

His whisper was raspy and it stunned you how badly you wanted to hear it again, so you didn’t move. Your free hand dug into the sheets in front of you as he spoke still quiet but more firm. 

“Always so stubborn for me.” 

Ezra moved a tad closer as he reached out to press against your back and lean you into him. His chest was so warm, and his arms were as large as the rest of him. You hadn’t thought about it when your fingertips reached up, a few of them hooking into the exposed collar of his shirt further down his chest. A spark buzzing into your body as you felt the brush of his chest against you. 

His own hand trailed up and down your back, exploring a place he’s never been. “Better?” 

It felt natural as you pressed a little closer to his front, a mutter of “You’re warm,” let a smile break out on his face that you couldn’t see. 

“Good.” It was a few minutes of silence, but his hand tracing your back over your clothes and the occasional shift and reaffirming your fingers hold on the edge of his open collar told you both neither was asleep Just like he usually did, it was Ezra who broke the quiet. “I wish you’d have learned by now, birdie that I don’t hate you. Quite the contrary.”

Such an emotional side wanted so badly to cling onto that as the truth, and as it turned out, having your body pressed against his in your own bed let that emotion win out. So you nodded with a hum. 

“You see how someone who does much of what you do, only I get treated without being insulted, shunned or talked down too. And I certainly haven’t made that feel much better for you by just letting myself play off of your easy annoyance with me. Though your face being rather cute when you’re grumpy may have played a role.” 

As much as you could you turned your head up to see him, but his own was tilted upward watching the shine of streaked moonlight against the ceiling as his hold on your back grew more solid. His press of you against his front much more distinct. “Most of these townsfolk have been cruel, and I am truly sorry for my own actions in that. You deserve to be treated better then to be outcasted like a curse.” 

You didn’t know why you did it, but you leaned back to catch his eye line better, your hand now pressing against his chest as it trailed back and forth from the broad strength of his torso to the softer stomach underneath and back. It wasn’t your mind that made the choice, it was an action guided by heart. 

Something Ezra had done for much of the day. But you still asked. “How would I deserve to be treated?” It was innocent, a genuine question. This town has pushed you into the mud and laughed when you struggled to stand up. 

Ezra’s jaw tensed, his body growing quite tense beneath your hand, and in response, you pressed more firmly against his chest to gently run down his torso hopefully more soothingly. It was a resolve of his will power that snapped. 

The second you trailed your hand just a tad further down, brushing over his shirt enough to just barley graze the coarse hair leading to a much different kind of touch. Maybe you hadn’t realized it, it was dark and you were quite gentle up until then. 

But the slightest pressure of your fingers close to his growing need erupted a boiling point within him. In a flash, Ezra grabbed your hand and flipped your body to fall flat on your back as he pressed up against your side, his upper body learning over yours to hold your hand down in his grasp. “It’s a dangerous game to toy with a man’s greed, birdie.” 

Your chest heaved to match the quickness of your heart. Where his body touched yours felt like a flame but one without the agony. You could better see him this way, his eyes dark with an undoubtable lust and his lips slightly parted with grit as he shamelessly looked over you. 

Did you mean it? Your sudden courageous touch closer to a part of him you thought he’d never care to give you? Was it what you always wanted but struggled to understand it? Your brain was so muddled as the authoritative press he had against your hand pinning it and you into place had part parts of you screaming. 

Your thighs rubbed together trying to quell the screams but it only caused his dark eyes to look down to the shuffling. His grip slowly released your fingers until they barley touched. Just as they parted Ezra almost violently pulled the sheets away from you. So quick you were unable to hide the desire the parts of you Ezra dreamt about most spoke. 

He pressed a palm onto the sheets closer to your waist as he raised his body enough to better lean over you. “If you’re toying with me, birdie, this is nothing short of cruel.”

It flew out of you in a breathe, no planned out thought behind it, only pure instinct. Your body writhed along the sheets just enough where you just barley felt your hips brush against his. “What do I deserve, Ezra?” 

His jaw clenched more as he leaned down, his nose brushing against yours and tracing it’s length. “Want? Or need?” When you didn’t answer a second later, Ezra moved his hand to dance over your waist and hips with a clenched hand needing more. “You can’t just want this, birdie. I need you to need it. I need you to tell it to me. Tell me you need this. Need me.” 

Just a single doubt of if this was a plot passed through you, but he played dirty if that was the case. He lowered his hips just enough for you to feel quite a hefty weighted pressure against your own hips. Not just heavy, but no doubt, something much more sizable then the very few you’d seen before. 

“I need you.” He was greedy and it wasn’t quite enough, but he knew you’d know what to give him.

“Please?” 

Christ almighty it wasn’t even a beg, it was such a sweet little ask. Almost innocent sounding if his cock wasn’t pushing into your hips begging for you to spread your legs. But it was a please that growled through him. 

His hand perched on the sheets rose up and grasped your jaw, his breathe hitting your skin as his lips brushed against yours with his sole response. “Thank you.” The only thing you felt next, was his lips harshly against yours, an aggressive commanding kiss that left you breathless with his greed. 

The very first thing you realized about Ezra as a lover, was he was unforgivingly passionate. His lips were soft but paired with a force that demanded you let him guide you. His kiss become more aggressive with each passing breathe until his tongue brushed against your lips. 

Your senses felt overwhelmed, all you could feel, hear, even taste was Ezra. Your hands grasped meekly at his shoulders while his own large ones encompassed your hips as he swung his legs over to hold himself over top of you. He squeezed handfuls in such a greedy tight grip that you couldn’t move them much. 

What he wanted. He didn’t grind his covered cock against you now, but he kept your hips pinned to his as he continued to keep the weight of it pressed into you. Let you feel him grow harder right against where he intended to devour. 

A small whimper left your mouth as he brushed his tongue once again at your mouth and he took his opening, sliding his tongue inside and brushing it against yours before pulling back and starting all over again. He coaxed you each time to explore his mouth as much as he did yours, one of his hands releasing your hip to cup the back of your head.

Pushing you up more into his mouth, keeping you connected as he gave a muffled moan as you finally felt the confidence to taste him as well. It wasn’t graceful or even delicate, no this kiss was messy. Ezra not caring for technique or talent, but keeping the taste of you with him any way possible. 

More then once you tried to pull back with a gasp of breathe only for him to follow your mouth once again. Your hands finally started to move, once again trailing the path you started only this time without the trepidation. 

Fingertips dancing at the bottom of his shirt, Ezra gave you no doubt. Pulling away from your mouth, a string of spit just barley there before breaking as he sat upright not taking his shirt off, but grabbing your hands and sliding them under the fabric for you. He leaned back into you, pressing his cock harder into your centre. Grasping your neck and jaw he turned you to his pleasure as his mouth moved up your neck, leaving a cool path in it’s wake as he nibbled a patch and then soothed it with his tongue before moving on. 

Your hips now free arched up into him with a gasp, the sting of his bite racked your body with an overwhelming need that made your hair stand on end. His unwavering focus left him barley separating from you as his beard and moustache rubbed into the sensitive skin he created. 

A stutter trembled out of your mouth as you felt his cock much more clearly. Your hands holding onto his waist as you moved slightly against him, feeling him grow harder against you. It also though, left you in great wonder as to where he truly started and ended. The firm pressure against you felt so much larger than you could imagine and you found a shameless greed fly through you wondering how heavy it would feel on your tongue. 

But the moment passed as your hands finally ran down to feel the coarse hair that set him off before. In a fleeting moment you suddenly pushed yourself up, forcing Ezra to sit upright once again his mouth draped open and swollen from his force. Your eyes this time held no insecurity. 

You shoved his shirt up the length of his torso before leaning up as much as possible to pull it off before he took over and yanked it the rest of the way. You felt a rush of desire at how truly large he was. Broad shoulders and chest with arms that could hold you down with no real force. Down and down was a softer stomach that was where your palms kept running over, dipping to the coarse hair and soothing back upward as he just watched you. 

Quickly he forced you back, his hands slamming down onto either side of your head as he rasped out, “It’s truly a crime that you’ve kept this breathtaking sight from the world.” His eyes slipping shut with a moan as your nails scratched ever so slightly below his waistline. 

“Oh? You have any intentions of sharing this with others?” Ezra’s eyes snapped open, the moonlight hitting his back hid the incredulous look on his face in shadow, but you certainly felt it as he sat back up grasping your thighs. 

“You misunderstand me birdie. I was being generous, what I meant was how much I can’t believe you hid any of this from me.” His hands grabbed the bottom of your skirts and bunched it up in his hands. “You’ve given yourself to me, and I am a selfish man.” He dragged it up and up exposing your skin to the cool air. “And I don’t share.” 

Pulling it up as much as he could, you had to move quick to sit up in time as he pulled it off of you completely. The only thing keeping you from him now was a flimsy piece of fabric he had every intention of keeping for himself. Like he said, Ezra was a selfish man and if this is the only time he can ever share this with you, then he damn well is going to keep a small part of it with him. 

You were quiet for a moment as he looked you over. His visibility much better then yours as the blue tint of the moon painted itself all over your skin. His hands once again on your thighs, he squeezed the flesh just as tightly as he did your hips. 

His voice was tight, strained. “You have no idea the pain it’s putting me in to stay gentle with you. You have the audacity to just lay there, showing me damn near everything I’ve ever dreamt about you but I’m still wrong.” 

Your face fell, spiralling down into a sea of what flaws he possibly hated so much to even point out. His grip on your thighs, his own face staring at your own chest tried to convince you otherwise. As did his own words. “Every night I imagine you just like this, you always slink up to meet me halfway, nails dragging over my chest with a knowing greedy look in your eye like an animal waiting to strike. But you now? You just lay there, looking at me with the most genuine eyes I’ve ever been graced with, and this...quiet uncertainty like I’m going to just take this all back.” 

You could feel your lungs constrict, a shame once again setting in that maybe this has all been your fault. That this rivalry towards one another has been one sided the whole time and that you should consider yourself lucky to be blessed with his patience for you. 

In theory, you followed what his dreams played out, but your palms smoothed up his chest not scratching nails, and there was no sultry look about you, but a genuine heart wrench. Your hands gently cupped the sides of his face, his facial hair scratching your palms beneath. “I, this isn’t your fault and I’m sorry.” 

Ezra raised an eyebrow and tilted his head in question. One of your hands danced along his collarbone to avoid this face. “Maybe it’s all been in my head, or it’s changed between us, or I just treated you this way for no reason but..it’s different, tonight- I don’t know how to, it’s.” You stopped, took a deep breathe as he patiently waiting for your thoughts to collect. “I don’t know if I want to go back to what we were after you walk out of here. I don’t know if I can go back to it.” 

Ezra didn’t respond, merely leaned down enough to gently kiss you, not pushing or pulling at you, just a chaste press of his lips against yours. “I had no intention of going back, birdie. I finally got you to open up to me, and like I said, I’m too selfish to let that slip away.” 

Shuffling back on his knees, Ezra grabbed your underwear and tugged it down. His eyes watching you the entire time. Your heart was almost too loud in your head but you pushed that way regardless. You lifted your hips, and let him pull it off, baring you to the cool air entirely. 

Sitting up on his knees, Ezra balled the fabric up in one fist, while pushing open your legs for him. You felt exposed, nervous at what he may think or see but you felt the pressuring shove to keep your legs spread wide the second you attempted to close them. 

“I promised something you deserve. Will you let me show it to you?” You nodded but your heart grew louder, thumping against your chest as he didn’t crawl back up to you. No, instead holding your legs out just slightly wider then his own broad frame as he leaned into the core between your thighs. 

You didn’t say anything, and Ezra had no intention on talking, not this typical way that is. His large hands spread your thighs as far as they could go to fit him, and your gasp of surprise caused a grin to form on Ezra’s face that could only be described as smug. 

With no warning, Ezra pulled you forward enough to lean his head against your mound, the sound and sensation of him inhaling your scent sending shivers throughout. “Now that, is more divine than anything you or I could conjure out of thin air.”

Your strength left you, back falling against the sheets losing sight of him completely as you were only now bent at the hips, at the will of the man you least thought would ever choose this with you. The tip of his nose nudged against your clit a few times, your hips jerking as tiny sparks of pleasure came alive. With one more tease left in him, Ezra shoved his face right between your legs, dragging his tongue up from your entrance and back up to your clit as he ran his mouth over it as if a kiss. 

Your moan turning into a whine as your legs were shoved just out of his way. Ezra’s eyes bore over your body as he took no slow enjoyment of making a show taking his pants off. There was no patience to drag his need out for you any longer. 

He didn’t give you a view for long, just enough to see the how large he was all over, and just a hinting outline of his cock that even for a flash, hung thick and heavy between his legs. But he once again took what he needed. This time no second was spared as he devoured you. 

His tongue tracing a path from your clit to your entrance and teasing you each time. Edging himself just enough inside you to garner a taste as it seized your legs up in tension, but the whines of your mouth had him smirking into your skin. “Ezra, please,” 

You didn’t know what you needed, but he did. Oh did he know. 

Ezra finally pushing his tongue inside of you, licking and tasting you as his hands once again grasped your thighs to push open. There was a twisting, burning fire flaming hotter and hotter with every stroke of his tongue and your moans weren’t the only ones. 

The vibrations from his own sounds contrasted with the otherwise softness of his mouth and tongue tasting between your legs but it was an overwhelming fire that threatened to take you, and he wished it too. Your arms grasping at the sides of your head as if in an agony of desire while he rode the wave of your writhing against the sheets. 

He seemed to mumble endlessly into you, nothing you could make out. There was a ringing in your ears that only heard the sounds of Ezra pushing you more and more towards the waters edge. A wet tasting as he refused to leave you to even speak his prayers of thanks for you to hear. 

His eyes darted open to see your hands dancing to find a grounding, and one of his took ahold of the closest to him. As he moved his body upwards, his mouth took focus on your desperate clit and it echoed your need through the air. His hand holding yours forced it onto your breast and squeezed tightly. Moving and encouraging you to pull and tease in tandem with his tongue on you. 

The other refusing to leave anything out, his larger hand took up so much more of you as he gave your breast such rougher touch then your own. But just as he nibbled oh so lightly at your sensitive clit, he grasped your nipple and tugged. A tight hold and rough tug that had you cry loudly. 

He did it again, and again each time his greedy licks turning into a much more feral buzzing in his body. A snarl left his mouth as you cried his name out, the only beg you knew and he yanked your hips up to his mouth more. His cock leaking onto your sheets as it pressed up against the bed, but he could ignore it. He couldn’t ignore how he licked into you with such aggression. 

A hand on your hip shifting only to roughly press against your clit once more and rub into you with a firm pressure refusing to give. He could sense your orgasm, your body tensing up as your cries turned to breathy gasps. Your insides like a coil ready to be let go, “Ezra, I-I’m-” 

He barley tore his mouth away. His lips brushing against your soaked folds with every breath, he could only hiss out through gritted teeth. “I know, give it to me, I need to taste you.” You stuttered trying to give any response but he couldn’t stop himself. “This cunt, this-” shoving his face once again to aggressively lick into you before speaking again, “magnificent cunt, let me taste all of you. And you can have me.” 

The vision of what outline you could see and the heavy bulge once pressed against you spun in your minds eye as you grappled with words. “I want, fuck I want it, I want you.” 

He still kept his pace but spoke with such ferocity to make you answer him. “What do you want, birdie.” You didn’t answer him again right away and he slapped the outside of your thigh. Not so hard it hurt but enough to make you jump. “Tell me what you want, whatever it is I’ll give it to you but I need you to say it.” 

Ezra hissed the words out and you forced yours through a gasp for air. “Your cock. I want your cock, inside me-please, god please, I need you to fill me.” You couldn’t even understand what you were saying, your orgasm teetering on the edge spilling out any desires you lusted for. 

He stopped though, his grip so tight bruises already asked to form, as his breath spat into you, “You need me to fill you up? Is that what you need?” 

“Yes, please Ezra please,” 

He pulled you over the edge in an instant. His tongue inside of you making a mess as he dragged it out of you and up to your clit once more, soaking you so much you could hear it. His mouth licked at your clit in short tight circles until it hit you like a wave. 

Nothing of matter cried out from your mouth, just pure pleasure as your back arched up and Ezra slinked back down to drink from you until he could feel your breathe settle from it’s frenzy. 

A man not of patience he shoved himself up your body and kissed you, even more sloppy then your first. Your own taste on his tongue and essence smearing over your face where it still sat fresh on his as he licked into your mouth with the exact same treatment. 

You wrapped your arms around his neck and your hands grasped one shoulder blade and another through his thick hair as your legs wrapped higher on his hips. As he moved his hand down you felt his tip press up against your soaking wet cunt. Rubbing the thickness up and down smearing your own wetness and mixing it with the precum already on his cock.

Biting at your lip you dug your nails into his skin as he kept prodding his cock inside of you not even an inch. “Tell me again, birdie.” 

Before you could beg, he pulled from your mouth to look you in the eye as much as could be for so close. “Tell me you’ll have me now and tomorrow.” Your heart lurched in your chest, but you couldn’t remember the conflicts that plagued your relationship for so long. 

You could only hear a sincerity and a rough need edging on his tone. “Tell me this can be us now, and I’ll fill you up with me. I’ll fill you with every inch of my cock, and then I’ll fill you with my cum. Spill it all inside of you, maybe keep my cock shoved in there to force you to keep every drop.” 

His cock was almost properly pushing inside of you, but you knew he needed the words out loud. Gently, you raked your nails through his hair, and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips, his nose and back again all while he held his cock still. “This is us, this is all us.” You whispered against his mouth and a shaky breathe left him. “Now fill me Ezra, I want you, I need it all inside me.” 

He gave you no time to adjust, your cunt was so soaked as well as his cock that his entire thick length shoved into you with no resistance. You moaned the others names out, Ezra falling into your neck with moans and your head tossed back grasping onto him. 

Ezra didn’t pound into you as you thought he would. Instead he slowly dragged his cock along your walls, teasing every nerve inside of you as he slid in and out. Never leaving you, but making you relive how thick and deep he was every time. 

The wetness was almost obscene as the thrusted in and out of you. Without removing his head from your neck, he blindly pulled your legs higher along his hips and it let his cock slide deeper. You clenched around him as the stroked along a razors edge that startled you with how good it felt. His mouth dragged itself up to your ear as he kept his pace slow yet deep. 

“So good, you are unfair to me, birdie.” His voice rasped out, higher in pitch the more he thrusted into you. “You squeeze my cock so fucking good, fitting my cock as if we were created to lock together. You’re always so good, so talented, so fucking clever.” 

His thrusts pounded a little harder, and when you cried out louder, Ezra pained himself to pull back to a gentle slide inside of you. “You take such good care of the things you love. Now, will you let me take care of you? Spill my seed deep inside of you? Once? Twice? Will you let me fill your cunt up with my cum until it just can’t fit anymore of me?” 

Your bodies were covered in a sheen of sweat, his hair curling in dampness as you pulled his face to look at you eye to eye. His dark eyes blown wide open and his mouth unable to close from the mounting pleasure in both of you. He never slowed his pace, and you wrapped your legs around him more, closer to his own legs to try and bring him deeper. 

“Please, fill me up Ezra.” You pulled him into a kiss breaking off only to mumble against hips lips before kissing him again. “I’m yours to have, please. Cum inside me, please just this one please.” The burning pleasure filled your limbs as you could only move against his thrusting hips to seek out your orgasm before it could be taken away, not that he would dare deprive himself of it. 

You rambled, not knowing what you were saying but driving him mad through it all. “I’m yours, whenever, wherever. Fuck me until until you’ve had enough of me, until it takes, please cum inside me you can have whatever you want.” 

Ezra grasped your face harshly, kissing and licking into your mouth as your orgasm swam into the shores. The fire between your legs making you almost cry in tears, leaning up into his warm touch, letting his kiss consume you as all you felt was his cock slick against your walls. 

Your head was high in the clouds, surrounded by white noise of his creating. You were too far off to sense how insane you drove him. Neither of you could have expected his feral, snarling desire to keep you all for himself. But you told him to fuck you until it took, and it lost him.

There was no discernible drive behind it, not that he knew of at the moment, but it consumed with with the concept of fucking you every chance he gets, spilling his cum deep into you without any care to take precautions over it. 

That thought pushed him over the edge. His hips pushing shallow thrusts deep inside you as he buried his head into your neck with a tight hold moving throughout your body. His cum spilling inside of you, warm and so deep you buried your own face into his hair as your clenching walls milked him for all he could give you.  

You thought he may be mumbling something onto your skin, but whatever it was seemed to be another language. You were too far gone anyways, burrowing yourself into his arms as you both stayed there. Hips locked together, neither of you understanding why either of you held this back the way you did. 

You didn’t talk about that though. Once you both came back down, Ezra pulled up, giving you one last kiss, but not of deep lust, just a simmered passion that left you chasing his lips after. 

You also didn’t speak of the very reason he had to stay that night, likely still out there until the sun arises. Ezra didn’t care about them, he didn’t elaborate but he was very clear that he didn’t ever come to you with intention of handing you over. For once, you truly believed him, and he had such a genuine smile of happiness of true peace between you.   

The rest of the night was quiet, intimate. Ezra watching with fond curiosity as you sat with the tiny dragon now awake with company. Watching you both work together, whispers at him and coos and purrs at you, a golden glow shining in the small space in front of the fire pit as you showed Ezra the charms you had been teaching him or working on together. 

He tried some of them too, with varied success but never once did he become short or annoyed by your own success. He just watched you guide and praise the small creature, support him to work with you, prompting what you know he can do. 

His smile only warmed up fonder as he quickest of images replaced the one in front of him. One where the creature in front of you was something much more human. One with dark curls and a growing patch of blonde standing out against a softer face that much more resembled you. 

It wasn’t a thought that lingered, but he didn’t chase it away. This was new for the both of you. He treasured how much you understood each other once the walls dropped. 

You had mentioned that once the sun came up you’d have to figure a plan out. “He’s small, and he’ll stay small for quite a while, but this just isn’t..”

“This isn’t a place to raise him.” Ezra brave enough to run a finger over his wings and not get growled or snapped at finally. “We’ll find somewhere. I’ve passed a fair few places before settling here, any one of them could give you both a real home.” 

You watched the creature, you didn’t look at him but there was a watery weight in your eyes. “Just the two of us? You’re life is here, right?” Ezra smiled but you didn’t cut your brain off. “You’ve done enough, you’re life shouldn’t be uprooted for a baby dragon, not for the only person who you’ve competed against for years.” 

You tried to steel your face impassively. But Ezra didn’t falter from such a casual relaxation. “Well now how could you two travelers even consider leaving your own companion behind? Frankly I’m offended.” 

Your head shot up in panic, only to fall flat at the playful jest on his face. “You don’t have to though, really.” 

Ezra furrowed his brow before hauling himself up more. His heart leaping as you so harmoniously reached for him as soon as he cupped your cheeks for a kiss. Pulling way he nudged his nose against yours, “You know better then anyone, I’m a stubborn man.” You laughed out loud, your forehead affectionately resting against his. “You aren’t getting rid of me anytime soon, birdie.” 

A chirp croaked out below you both. Ezra poked at the little green attention seeker. “Yeah, yeah same to you, you winged nightmare.” The dragon shaking it’s head with a squeaky growl, hopping away from you both completely. Once again turning himself into a lumpy green pile on the ground ruminating by the fire. 

You and Ezra both laughed, and it once again struck him at how parental it felt. The image of a baby, looking much like your best traits together, cradled in your arms and you in his own came back up. 

He wouldn’t push that thought, wouldn’t read too heavily into it until a true life has settled with you, somewhere far from the noise and nonsense that drove a wedge between you both in the first place. He never hated you, or even disliked you but Ezra understood why his own attitude didn’t lend itself to healing. 

It was hopeful now, such an intimate domesticity between him and you felt as if it was what was truly meant to be. What was behind the animosity previously getting in the way. 

Maybe though, he would wait a while before telling you he was the one who had all of your market belongings replaced. He did it out of a burning need to give you something you needed, something good you deserved. 

But he had a feeling you would still accuse him of ruining it in the first place as an excuse to get you new things. The magistrate clearly ordered it done to intimidate you instead of doing literally anything else more effective. But Ezra can’t lie to himself. 

He absolutely had thought about doing exactly that just to try and get your attention.

#ezra prospect x reader #ezra prospect x female reader #ezra prospect x f!reader #pedrostoriesgift22 #pedrostories #ezra prospect x you #pedro pascal x reader #prospect imagine

[ghostofskywalker]

An Impromptu Snow Day

Din Djarin/Reader

Words: 1,853

Summary: When the three of you are left stranded on a snowy planet, you resolve to try and make the experience as much fun as possible. In hindsight, you should have expected him to be this competitive.

this is my contribution to the @pedrostories secret santa gift exchange! my prompt was from @oogaboogasphincter , and i really enjoyed writing it!!

Din Djarin Masterlist

You should have known at this point that nothing ever went to plan when you and Din were traveling. Even something as simple as a stop to refuel would often get foiled by rival bounty hunters, people who just wanted to kill one of you, or large beasts that you had accidentally woken up from hibernation. This time however, it was nature that was preventing your plan from coming to fruition (which was a new one for you at least). You weren’t an encyclopedia of knowledge about every single planet in the galaxy, there was no way you could have known which planets have changing weather patterns and which ones remained the same climate no matter what, so this really wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t anyone’s fault, just a bout of bad luck that prevented the Razor Crest from getting back into the planet’s atmosphere.

Thankfully, you had already successfully acquired the fuel and added it to the ship’s receptacle when it began to snow, and it just meant that your departure from whatever this planet was called was delayed, not the entire operation. You had originally looked at the sky in wonder, Grogu in your arms, as the delicate little flakes fell and accumulated on the ground below. It was previously something you had only heard of and read about, and seeing it in person for the first time was a sight to behold.

When the snow and the wind didn’t let up even as the day went on, that’s when you started to grow annoyed with the so-called breathtaking natural phenomenon. Din was silent and stoic as ever, but you could tell that it was bothering him too. You were lucky that this planet seemed to be out of the way of anyone who wanted to hurt Din or Grogu, but it was still dangerous for the three of you to remain in one place for too long, no matter how off the grid it seemed to appear.

Grogu was also getting antsy. He would jump down from your arms and waddle across the floors of the ship, pushing buttons that he could reach and generally causing mayhem as you tried to get him to sit still for a little longer. Eventually (after he had wandered towards the door of the ship one too many times), you had an idea.

“I’m going to take the kid outside for a little bit,” you told Din. “Let him play a little in the snow, because he’s clearly bored just waiting in here.”

“Alright,” Din said. “Do you have clothes warm enough to go out there? Because I can stay with him if needed.”

You shook your head, offering a warm smile. “Don’t worry, I’ve got enough clothes,” you said. “You can stay in here if you’d like.”

You couldn’t see the expression he wore due to the helmet on his head, but he have you a nod before you went to go put on a few more layers. Din was still something of an enigma to you, even after you’d traveled with him for so long. You couldn’t deny the way you were drawn to him, or the strong bond you had forged with him and Grogu. You couldn’t really see yourself anywhere else at this point, that’s how much those two had become a constant in your life, and you thought that he felt similarly towards you (although maybe your fantasies about kissing him weren’t reciprocated). He was as openly affectionate with the kid as someone clad head to toe in beskar could be, and you would occasionally fall asleep with him when you weren’t alternating who was piloting the ship (as there was only one bunk besides the hammock where Grogu slept). You had never seen him without his helmet, but you didn’t need to know what he looked like to know how you felt about him.

When you stepped out onto the ground, Grogu hopped out of your arms and landed in the fluffy white snow, sinking through it almost immediately. Your eyes widened as you watched, but you relaxed as you heard happy coos and giggles from where he was standing.

Tentatively stepping across the snow-covered ground, you couldn’t help but smile too. There was something special about being here right now, something that made you feel like a child again, despite the fact that you had grown up on Tatooine, with a climate nothing like this.

You reached down and started to gather a bunch of snow in your gloved hands, watching in awe as the snow clumped together to form a crude sphere. Grogu watched you with intense interest, you knew how he felt about that particular shape. When you tossed your packed ball of snow in the air, the two of you watched as it hit the ground and broke apart once again.

A smile on your face, it seemed that you and the child had the same idea, and for a while you both did just that, tossing balls of snow in the air and watching them fall and reunite with the blanket of white already on the ground. It was only after you laid eyes on the ship again did your idea expand a little, and this time instead of throwing the snowballs you made up into the air, you stockpiled them behind a nearby rock. Grogu watched you with inquisitive eyes, and even contributed a few snowballs of his own, making some of them hover in the air at your eye level before gently placing them next to your small pile.

When you felt that you had enough ammunition, you pressed the button to turn on the comm device that rested on your wrist (it was supposed to be for emergencies only, but in this moment you didn’t care). “Can you come out here for a moment please?” you asked Din, keeping your voice even as to not give away your intentions.

“Is something wrong?” he immediately sounded worried. It was probably a valid reaction, given the kind of troubles you had faced with him in the past, but you didn’t want to arouse any suspicion.

“No, nothing like that,” you said. “The kid and I wanted to show you something, that’s all.”

“Alright.”

You waited with bated breath for him to appear at the top of the ship’s boarding ramp, and soon your shining target was visible. Quickly and without warning, you launched two of your snowballs in his direction, and they both hit him gently in the chest, sliding down from where they hit his armor. You stared at him for a few moments after that, and you knew by the tilt of his helmet he was staring right back. But he didn’t get a chance to say anything before the child had launched a snowball of his own, hovering through the air and landing on his left shoulder.

Everything after that happened so quickly you couldn’t really keep track, but Din raced down the ramp and quickly made his own snowball, launching it in your direction before you could make your next move.

Eventually, it was all out war between you. Of course Din’s reflexes were the best you’d ever seen, he was a Mandalorian for Maker’s sake. But it warmed your heart that he was willing to play along with this little game, even if you were now being pelted with snow. You had that large rock to hide behind, but the little bit of shelter it offered wasn’t nearly enough to successfully evade Din.

You launched snowballs at him, he fired right back. Grogu found enjoyment in making his snowballs float high in the air and then dropping them over your heads, and the two of you retaliated with a few gently tossed clumps of snow at him too. You and Din took turns chasing each other around the area where the ship was parked, laughing and attempting to scare each other with threats you would never actually make good on.

“Get back here!”

“You’ll have to bring me in cold, Djarin!”

“Oh cyar’ika, I can do that.”

You stopped momentarily as you tried to register the term he had just used, but it seemed that was exactly what he wanted. It was too late to dodge as he tackled you, but you knew that you could take him down too, so you threw your leg out and caught the armor on his calf, sending him down onto the snowy ground along with you.

Neither of you landed on top of each other, but when you both turned to see if the other was okay, you ended up way closer to him than you had even been before. You couldn’t see his face due to his helmet, but you knew that if you leaned in a little you would be kissing the cold metal.

Suddenly overcome with emotion (and the realization of what position you were in), you and Din pulled away from each other. “Are you okay?” he asked.

You nodded. “Yeah, what about you?”

“I’m fine,” he said, and the tone of his voice made it known that he was aware of the situation’s awkwardness as much as you were. “It’s getting dark, why don’t we bring the kid inside?”

You nodded again, trying to get your brain to stop thinking about kissing him. “Yeah, that’s a good idea,” you said. “We can go to sleep, and hopefully be able to leave this place tomorrow once the snow stops.”

Grogu, as it turned out, was watching the exchange between you and Din the entire time, and he thankfully seemed to agree that it was time to go back into the ship. Right as you finished getting changed into dry clothes and settling the child into his hammock, the light from this planet’s sun had completely disappeared for the day.

It was pitch dark in the barrack of the ship, and you couldn’t see a thing. So when you felt Din’s warm body slide into the cot next to you, it was a pleasant surprise. This wasn’t an uncommon experience for you and him to fall asleep together, seeing as the ship was only so big, but you worried that you had somehow ruined that with the events of the snowball fight this afternoon. Not saying anything so you didn’t ruin the moment, you just snuggled closer to Din’s side, taking in the scent of him that you found so pleasant and comforting.

“I had fun out there today with you and the kid.” His voice was different without the helmet’s modulator, and it was always a little bit of a shock when you heard it, but you also thought it was one of the most attractive voices you’d ever come across.

“I had fun too,” you said. “I think the experience was good for him.”

Din hummed in agreement as you yawned at the same time, and soon the two of you were drifting off to dreamland together, your brain just barely registering the feeling of soft lips on your forehead as you finally fell asleep.

- the end -

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[pedrostories]

🎄🎁 PedroStories 2022 Secret Santa – Masterlist 🎁🎄

Thank you again for participating in PedroStories’ Secret Santa event! 💚

Special shoutout to our pinch hitters: @just-here-for-the-moment who jumped in later to help us out and @prolix-yuy & @psychedelic-ink for taking on two prompts! Thanks to you every giftee got their gifts in time! 🥰

Here you can find all the works published by the participants!

* - Mature/Explicit work

Pero Tovar

* A Fate so Cruel by @supernaturalgirl20​

Ezra

* Binding Opposing Foes by @rise-my-angel​

Dieter Bravo

Dieter Bravo and the No Good, Very Bad, Awful Christmas Movie by @blueeyesatnight​

Joel Miller

* Make My Wish Come True by @oogaboogasphincter​​

Max Phillips

* Warmth by @simpingcowboy​

Marcus Moreno

Marcus Moreno x f!reader oneshot by @just-here-for-the-moment​

Marcus Pike

Where the Love Light Gleams by @the-blind-assassin-12​​

* A Future with You by @chaoticgeminate​

Javier Peña

Always Been You by @laureliciousdefinition​​

* Naughty List by @something-tofightfor​​

Silent Night by @queenofthefaceless​​

Oberyn Martell

* Winter Solstice at Winterfell by @autumnleaves1991-blog​

Simple Treasures by @prolix-yuy​

past and present loves by @mandaloresson​​

Jack Daniels

Over Ice by @haylzcyon​​

Whiskey, dark and deep by @prolix-yuy​​

lust for life – lana del rey by @agentwhiskeysgf​​

* Sweeter by @the-ginger-hedge-witch​​

Din Djarin

Flowers that Bloom in Winter by @psychedelic-ink​

An Impromptu Snow Day by @ghostofskywalker​

* Aay'han by @whiskeynwriting​​

* Sun & Moon by @taro-666​

Sweetie by @browneyes-issac​​

Simple Gifts by @writeforfandoms​

* Ner Cyar'ika Baar'ur by @misspearly1​

Revenant & * Expectations by @djarinmuse (@yourcoolauntie​)

* Magnetic Fields by @noisynaia​

* Acts of Service by @frannyzooey​

A Spell Of Winter by @meandorla​

* Stripping Away Our Armor by @flightlessangelwings​

Frankie Morales

* How about you and me by @artemiseamoon​​

* ‘tis the damn season by @psychedelic-ink​

* Speechless by @din-jarhead​

* A Pilot for Christmas by @alwaysbethewest​​

* The Beginning of the End by @miraclesabound​​

die for you in secret by @brewsterispunkk​

Near-miss by @pedrito-friskito​

Idle Hands by @pettyprocrastination​

Let It SQUALL by @grogusmum​​

* Let Me Take Care of It All by @floralpascal​​

* Run Through The Jungle by @intheorangebedroom​​

I Could Fall by @thot-of-khonshu​

​See you next year! 

#pedrostoriesgift22 #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #fic rec #admin post #masterlist