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pascal-istheway · 2 years

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Chapter II - Horseshoe III - How To Make An Outlaw

Fandom: Red Dead Redemption 2

Rating: E - violence, eventual smut/NSFW

Characters/Relationships: Arthur Morgan / Reader

Chapters: 10/?

Word Count: 5.2k

Tags: slow burn, angst, violence, eventual smut

read here on ao3

MASTERLIST

5:27 PM

The sound of the saloon echoed around us as we drank, eyes glancing at the two men sitting on either side of me. Neither of the guys seemed to care as they knocked drinks back, chatting together as I sat back in my chair and listened, overly aware of the judgmental eyes watching us. Not only was a non-working girl sitting at the bar, but I was with men that were involved in the fight. Specifically Arthur. In their defense, they really hadn’t done anything to start that fight. Something which Arthur reminded the bartender as he ordered a bottle of whiskey for our group.

And he was technically right, Bill had started the fight. The other guys that joined in were just following up on the initial blows from Bill and the guy he was fighting. Ride or die, I guess.

“So you think you’ll go get him?” Lenny asked as he winced from the alcohol he sipped.

Arthur grimaced, “if it were up to me, I’d let the bastard hang, but it ain’t up to me. This was Dutch’s call.”

“I feel like Micah doesn’t care about nobody but himself and only himself,” Lenny huffed, “well that and maybe his horse.”

The men laughed and cheered in front of me, knocking their glasses back and slamming them down on the table.

“Now, Emma,” Lenny turned to me and smiled, “tell me, does a lady like you know how to drink?”

I scoffed, “a lady would never, but I never claimed to be such a thing, did I?” the corner of my mouth rose in a mischievous smirk as I glanced at Arthur who was smiling back at me.

“I bet you can’t keep up with the likes of us,” Arthur leaned over and breathed into my ear, sending chills down my spine.

I gulped but pulled back and looked at him square in the eyes, rising to the challenge, “oh you’re fuckin’ on cowboy,” and with that, filled my cup and took the drink in one swoop, cringing as it burned down my throat and settling into my stomach.

—

6:42 PM

The glass fell from Lenny’s hand and shattered on the floor beneath us, all three of us bursting out in laughter as if it were the funniest thing we’d ever seen. Arthur balanced one on his hand and with the sway of his body, it fell to the floor below, shattering alongside Lenny’s.

The conversation covered just about every range of topics from Lenny’s parents and why Arthur never married Mary, to why I wasn't married and living in Boston with some rich oil man, to our horses and the people that filled the camp. It was such an easy-flowing conversation that I barely noticed when Lenny brought up what happened to my family when he asked about my mom.

“She was young,” I finally broke our silence, the three of us sipping from our new, unbroken glasses.

They both just listened as the story half poured out of me as if I was made of my own whiskey and emptying the bottle into someone else's glass.

“I remember, we were on a train, buncha cowboys rode up on us and killed a whole bunch of folk in the cars in front of us. We were in the back in the private car with one of daddy's friends,” I paused and my face grew tight as I remembered the day it all happened.

I remembered thinking my father had abandoned us all in that car, how Griffin had held me as I cried when that outlaw shoved his gun into my mother's chest and threatened her. A chill ran over my spine thinking about him, his features blurred in the haze of time passing over the memory.

I could remember small details, how he had dark hair and wore a pocket watch like the rich men that sat with my father over brandy did. He was well put together, much more than any outlaw I’d ever imagined. I remembered the young man he had with him, how his eyes pierced into our own as he approached the man that killed my mother and told him the law was comin’.

“I lost my mom that day, on the Southway rail back before it was Levi’s,” I downed my drink.

Arthur nodded, his shoulder leaning into mine gently to gather my attention, “looks like we are both a product of change and society. One and the same. Orphans,” his lip came up in a small curl on one side - an attempt at relating to me.

“Yeah, I guess we are,” I clinked my glass into his and poured us another round.

—

8:31 PM

My eyes can't open. I'm laughing so hard as all the men in the saloon had gathered, the piano playing a lively ragtime tune. I clapped along with the beat and watched them all kick one leg out and then the other, balancing on each other's shoulders. It was the first time in a long time I’d laughed this hard. In fact, the whole evening was the first time in longer than I could remember that I’d laughed like this.

Lenny jumps out from the line and grabs my hand, yanking me to my feet and pulling me into the line between him and Arthur. I yelp, eyes bugging from my head as I stumbled but they caught me, pulling me into the line as we all kick out of sync. It’s the best time I've had in god knows how long.

Eventually, the music changes, something slower and more intimate and the line breaks apart, Lenny grabs the current bottle of whiskey and as he goes to hand it to us, he realized that Arthur has swept me up in his own arms, spinning me in circles.

“Arthur…” I look up at him, my eyes worried because this seemed too intimate for public, but also I didn’t want to stop.

“Just give me the one dance, darlin’,” his voice swayed as much as our bodies did and out of the corner of my eye, I could see Lenny smirking at us as he drank straight from the brown whiskey bottle.

—

10:87 MP?

“Lenny? L-Lenny!” I whipped my head around the saloon looking for him.

“Len? Lenny… Lennayyyy?!” Arthur called, stumbling into the bar top and reaching for the bartender, “have you” he hiccups, “seen him?”

“I don’t know who you’re talkin’ about friend,” the bartender said as he casually wiped down a glass.

“Lenny!” I called again, stumbling up to Arthur, “you found him?” I sounded excited.

“Nope. Not even,” hiccup, “not even close.”

“I dunno where that boy would’ve run off to.”

“Let's go on a hunt!” Arthur slammed down the glass in front of him after shooting yet another glass of whiskey back.

—

00:00 AMPM

“Whatever you do, do not go up,” hiccup “up… don’t go up.” Both of the Arthur’s I see in front of me look like they are about to tumble down the stairs as he points behind him to the rooms on the top floor.

“Wh-why?” I stumbled into his arms as he descended the stairs.

“Well see, they all look like Lenny, but they sure as shit ain’t Lenny! Especially the woman,” he broke out in a burst of almost violent laughter.

“Where in the hell could that boy be?”

“Come on, let’s go look,” he grabbed me by the wrist and pulled me along with him as we stumbled out the back door. A man and workin’ girl laughing saying “how nice it is to be young”.

—

12:25 A/PM

We search, stumbling together around the back of the saloon headed in the complete opposite direction of the town, and find ourselves in a field, singing and dancing while sharing a bottle of whiskey. Eventually, we forget altogether that we were even looking for him. Our eyes adjusted to the dim evening, trees and grass blowing in the cool wind as we skipped and danced under the stars in that field.

It had to be after midnight but even as the lights faded from the town, we could still faintly hear the party in the saloon still continuing on without us. The sound of Valentine growing quieter while the sounds of the heartlands growing louder.

Eventually, we found a nice little spot under a tree, the grass was thick but we didn’t mind as we sipped whiskey from the bottle we passed between us. The amber fire made my belly warm and my body loose. It felt good to get out and have some fun. Something I’d never really been allowed to do in modern society when I was expected to behave like a lady.

“Arthur, why aren’t you married? Or ever with,” hiccup, “with a woman?” I asked as I flopped down into the grass and rested my head on a soft pile of grass while I looked up at the stars.

Arthur sat down at my side and laid back next to me, his head matching my own. He hesitated before he answered but finally told me about her.

“I almost was as a matter of fact,” he said quietly. “Even considered askin’ her to marry me.”

I sat straight up in shock and looked down at him laying beside me, his left arm bracing under his head while his right arm reached out towards me for the whiskey bottle.

“Well, what happened?” I asked, handing him the bottle.

He took a long pull, “her daddy never approved of me. Hell, she never really truly approved of me either. She was some rich woman caught up in the romance of bein’ on the run. She asked me to leave this gang so many damn times and each time I thought sure, I could walk away from all this. But look at how that ended up for Hosea? And Dutch is like a father to me. He found me on the streets fendin’ for myself. I couldn’t turn my back on them.”

He smiled softly and looked up at me gawking as he spoke, “as much as I loved her, she would never love me the same way. Least not in the way I wanted her to. And I couldn’t be what she needed, I can’t change for someone like that,” he coughed as he took another sip and passed it back to me.

“No one should ever ask you to,” I said softly as I took the bottle back out of his strong hands, his fingers brushing over mine softly.

He just grunted, nodding as he looked up at the sky above us. The stars were so bright, so clear in the sky I could almost count each one of them. I watched his features change, the lines in his forehead becoming harder as his mind went over what was undoubtedly every conversation he’d ever had with this Mary woman. I could see the frustration, the anger playing out and I hated that she would elicit such emotion from him. He didn’t deserve to be hung up on this woman who was clearly no good for him.

—

1:37 AM

We sat next to one another, Arthur to my left and a small tree to my right. I took a deep breath, thinking about Kieran tied up at camp, helpless and unable to fend for himself against the guys. I know Bill was absolutely giving him hell, I’d seen it with my own eyes. As for the girls, they were likely steering clear from him, not wanting to rock the recently steadied boat. It slipped out of me before I could even register what I was sayin’.

“Kieran was the one that helped me escape,” I hiccuped and took a very long drink from the bottle, not wanting to make eye contact with Arthur out of fear of what he would do.

I pulled the drink from my lips slowly and watched him out of the corner of my eye. His eyes were trained on me, but his mouth parted, chest moving up and down with each breath.

“He fed me and kept me alive during all that,” I paused, slightly nervous to keep talking, and looked down at the grass poking up around my legs. “I’ve been feedin’ him in camp, trying to repay him I guess. Abigail knows, but I wanted to be the one to tell you,” I cringed, thinking about how much time has passed since they first picked up Kieran.

I couldn’t stop it once the admission came out, I just had to keep talking. “Abigail said that I should trust you with the knowledge. That if I really considered you my friend, I should tell you but I just…” I sucked in a deep breath, “I already lost everyone and didn’t want to lose you too. I didn’t want you to look at me the way Dutch does.”

There was a very long pause before he cleared his throat, lighting a cigarette that was perched between his lips, and took a long drag, inhaling the smoke and blowing it out. He looked up at the trail of smoke blowing away slowly in the gentle breeze. A chill ran over me as his eyes landed back on mine.

“Arthur, say somethin’,” I pleaded.

He took another drag from his cigarette and blew it out, “I know.”

“Wh… what?” I looked at him nervously.

He laughed deep in his chest, “you ain’t as sneaky as you think you are,” he pointed his fingers holding the cigarette at me, and smiled a cocky grin. “But you should be thankful it was Uncle that said somethin’ and not someone else like John or Karen. They got loud mouths and if Dutch found out you were helpin’ an O’Driscoll?” he ticked his tongue against his teeth and looked at me again. “You’re trouble, you know that?”

“Oh I’m trouble?” I laughed, “What about you Mr ‘I’m gonna beat every man in town’,” I made a fake country accent and lowered my voice mocking him.

“Is that what you think I sound like?” he laughed, tossing his cigarette and reaching for the bottle between us only to have me swipe it from his fingertips and lean back taking another sip.

His hands reached out and grabbed my wrist, pulling me towards him and making me squeal in delight and surprise. I could feel his grip loosen but then his arm wrapped around my middle and we spilled over into the grass together, laughing and giggling like teenagers. His fingers tickled at the side of my ribs, making me thrash beneath him in uncontrolled laughter.

“Watch out!” he hollered, “we got us a real wild mustang over here!” he laughed as I bucked my hips and tried to roll out from under him, only to be met with more torturous tickling. It was past the borderline of friendly fun and way into flirting territory but I think we were both too drunk to care anymore.

“Arthur! Stop! I can’t breathe!!” I laughed, coughing as I struggled to breathe, “Stop it oh god!” I giggled.

—

2:91 ?AM

“What’s going through that head of yours?” I asked, laying back down beside him.

He grunted, “nothin’ worth talkin’ about.” His face turned towards mine, our noses barely touching and I could see his lips part slightly. His adams apple bobbed and his eyes shifted from my own to my lips. My tongue darted out and my own eyes wandered to the scruff of his beard.

Before I knew what I was doing, my hand reached out to cup his jaw. My thumb ran over the scruff that dusted his face, tracing the small scar that parted the hair on his chin. His own hand came to my cheek and our eyes met once again, the breath between us mingling together as we soaked in one another.

It happened so fast, his drunken lips finding mine, our teeth clashing together as our noses squished up into one another. I could taste whiskey and tobacco on his lips, his tongue pushing out to part my own, and I greedily accepted it, swallowing his breath with each lap of our tongues. They fought for dominance as his hand came to mine, pushing me back into the grass as he rolled over to hover above me. His strong thighs pushed between my legs, causing me to wrap them around his waist while one of his hands came down to my hip and gripped me with such a strength that I knew there would be bruises tomorrow.

So this is what Arthur was like with his women. Not the controlled lover, but the dominant, unrestrained man with primal needs.

—

9:25 AM

Everything hurts. My eyes refused to open into the blinding light shining in from the window. The window…

Where was I? The last thing I could remember was looking for Lenny and then…

Oh god.

I opened my eyes to find myself in the hotel of Valentine, partially undressed and wrapped in the comforter that lay on the bed. Arthur was nowhere to be found.

What the fuck happened last night?

The door opened and Arthur walked in carrying a small tray of food from the saloon. It looked to be a breakfast stew of some kind, eggs, and meat and maybe some kind of gravy? My stomach lurched and I held the back of my hand to my mouth out of fear that if I didn’t block it, I would hurl all over this room.

“Oh, shit, I’m sorry, did I wake you?” Arthur looked concerned.

I shook my head, the movement causing me to groan and lay back down, “no, just shhh,” I tried to close my eyes again.

“I brought you some good hangover food, this’ll help,” he smiled and sat gingerly down on the side of the bed, placing the tray in front of me.

The smell was divine, unlike anything Pearson would cook back at camp, “god I could eat an entire horse I’m so hungry,” I laughed, propping myself up slightly as I took the fork from the plate and speared a piece of sausage.

Arthur watched me and smiled when I proved I could keep my food down, but frowned when he noticed me hesitate as my eyes searched around the room.

“What happened last night Arthur?” I asked.

“What do you remember?”

“We were lookin’ for Lenny and- did we ever find him?”

“Nope, but he made his way back to camp, I found out this mornin’ that he went back earlier.”

“Oh,” was my only reply. I ate another bite and immediately my stomach rejected the food, making me turn towards the trash can and vomit into it. My head spun as I flopped back down on the bed.

“Remind me never to drink like that again,” I groaned, flopping my arm over my eyes, “oww.”

Arthur reached into the satchel resting on the side of the bed and dug around for a tonic, pulling the cap off and handing it to me. “Here, try this, it’ll help you feel a bit more normal,” he smiled and nudged it at my arm.

I groan, taking the tonic in one gulp and shutter at the taste as it threatens to come back up. I manage to keep all of the contents in my stomach this time.

“How did we get here last night? I don’t remember ever checking in here.”

“I already had the room booked when I came to bathe. I just figured, one of us was going to be too drunk to ride back to camp and we might as well have a place to stay that we didn’t have to set up camp for ourselves.” He shrugged.

“Smart,” I said as we ate together in mostly silence, the occasional sigh or grunt coming from one of us.

“How are you feelin’,” I asked when I realized he looked much better than I probably did.

“Surprisingly ok, considerin’ how much we had last night.”

“You take hangovers much better than I do I guess,” I smiled and winced, making my face into more of a grimace than a smile.

“You should drink some water, it’ll help,” he handed me a small canteen from the side table next to the bed.

I graciously took it, bringing the canteen to my lips and taking a long sip. The cool water soothed the ache in my throat almost instantly.

“So what do we do after this?” I forked another large bite into my mouth.

“Well,” he paused around a dry biscuit, “I guess we oughta head back to camp. We did what we were supposed to, came out and drank, even if we lost Lenny in the process,” he chuckled.

“Right, we definitely got the drinking part down,” I laughed as we finished up our meal.

Arthur offered to take the tray back down to give me a moment to clean myself up and get dressed. I found fresh clothes he had brought from the saddlebags on Apollo, along with a new stalker hat that I wasn’t sure was mine. The reflection of myself in the mirror, half-dressed with my red hair going in every direction possible, I groaned, realizing that Arthur had seen me look like this. With a sigh, I straightened myself out and got dressed.

I stood in front of the mirror, my red hair now in a simple braid down my back and dressed in black everyday pants, a black collared overshirt, and my worn boots. I placed the new hat on my head and looked at myself. I didn’t look like anyone I recognized. The skinny leather band that looped around the black hat glistened from the light coming in from the window like it had been freshly oiled.

The smile on my face grew. I looked like the person my younger self envisioned I’d be.

I looked like an outlaw.

He was waiting out front with the horses, nodding off slightly as he leaned against the hitching post when I emerged from the hotel. Arthur wasn’t a particularly menacing man when he was calm and quiet like this. He looked beautiful, or at least as beautiful as one could look this relaxed.

“You sleepin’ on the job cowboy?” I called out to him, making his head shoot up and look around for me.

“Come on, I gotta make a stop on the way,” he said as he turned away from the horses and walked up to the wooden platform that ran along with the town.

We walked together in silence, and as we approached the last building, he stopped and turned into the gunsmith. The bell chimed as the door swung shut behind us.

“What are you aimin’ for to-” the gunsmith looked up and his eyes narrowed, “now listen mister, I don’t want no trouble. You just state your business or be on your way.”

Arthur’s hands came up showing they were empty, “I'm just here to spend some hard-earned money, that’s all.”

I looked at him and back to the gunsmith who was now staring at me, curious about my unladylike attire, and offered him a small smile.

“What are we doin’ here Arthur?” I whispered.

“We are gettin’ you a gun,” he smiled, walking up to the counter and opening the catalog.

“No, no way. I have one!” I argued, “you can’t get me a new gun Arthur, that’s expensive!”

He ignored me and pointed towards the Schofield revolver in the case, “can I see that one?”

The gunsmith pulled it out and checked it wasn’t loaded before handing it to him. He examined the weapon, then placed it down on the counter and slid it towards me.

“Try this one,” he instructed.

I scoffed but picked it up in my hand. It felt heavy and a little bulky for my hands. Clearly evident that it was too big for me, he shook his head and took the gun to hand back to the gunsmith, grip first.

“How about that cattleman right there,” he pointed to a slightly smaller gun that sat to the left in the case.

The gunsmith grabbed it, checking again to make sure there were no bullets in it, and handed it over to us.

Arthur did a thorough inspection, checking to see if everything looked in order before handing it over to me again. I held the cool metal in my hands, unsure what he was really looking for me to do. I looked up to him as he hummed, then he asked how much. The men negotiated the price, and within minutes, I had a brand new gun and holster with ammunition to go with it all.

“Arthur, I can’t pay you back for all this, I can’t…”

“It’s ok. You needed a proper weapon, not a relic,” he said as he adjusted my new holster on the belt.

“It wasn’t a relic! I mean,” I scoff, “ok maybe it was a little old but it wasn’t that bad. It still works!” I protest.

“No more arguing, let’s get a move on before we waste the whole day,” he turns and heads back to his horse, leaving me no choice but to follow behind.

The horses were right where we left them, but there was a tall, well-dressed man standing nearby, gently stroking Apollo’s head while he whispered what a beautiful horse he was. It was odd to see a man that was so well dressed in a town like Valentine. Maybe an investor that had taken the train in from the city. Or an oil man looking for a bank to work with. Reminds me of Blackwater a little. Seeing the odd fellow come off the ferry every now and then.

Arthur grumbled under his breath, the agitation wafting off him in massive waves. His shoulders scrunched tighter and his face turned sour with a grimace. My eyes pulled away from the man by the horses and looked at Arthur’s frown.

“Do you know that man?” I asked, feeling slightly queasy from what I assumed was the hangover.

Instead of responding, Arthur just walked up behind him and cleared his throat.

“Trelawny, what do I owe the pleasure?”

The man turned and a huge almost cartoonish smile swept over his features, “Arthur! My word you’ve grown since the last time I saw you!” he held his hands out wide.

“That was only a few months ago, Trelawny. I’ve stopped growin’ for a while now,” his voice rang with annoyance.

“Ahh yes, maybe in height, but not in width, dear boy!” he smiled before realizing I was standing next to Arthur, “and who is this beautiful creature? Does she have a name?” he held his hand out to take mine, to which I placed my hand gingerly. The man leaned forward and kissed the top of my knuckles, his own lips lingering for a beat too long before I replied.

“She speaks too,” I pulled my hand back and wiped it on my shirt.

“Oh I like this one, Mr. Morgan.”

“Yeah, she’s a real spitfire,” Arthur rolled his eyes. “What are you doin’ here Trelawny? Thought you were off scammin’ folk outta their money out west? Or did you give up on that particular charm of yours?”

“I come with news! News of a particular friend with whom we are acquainted. A certain, Irishman, a red-headed fellow.”

“That so?” Arthur’s eyebrows perked up. “What’s the word?”

“The word is that after your escape from Blackwater, which what a mighty fine show I might say. You’ve really got those bounty hunters in a frenzy. I wish you could’ve seen the place after you all nearly cheated death! What a grand-”

“Uh-huh, yeah. Get to the point,” Arthur interrupted him.

“Don’t be rude boy, I was getting to that. Anyways, after all that commotion you lot caused, our dear old Sean seems to have himself stuck back in Blackwater I’m afraid. The same bounty hunters that were looking for you caught him trying to flee the area.”

Arthur sighed and looked at me, a high of an eye roll for the dramatics of Trelawny.

“Ok, and what am I supposed to do about this?” “Well, I’m gifting you this information because they are holding him until they can get the best price for him.”

“With how much that boy talks, I’m surprised they haven’t asked to pay us to take him back,” Arthur laughed, neither of us finding it funny.

I piped in, “so where are they holding him? Do we know?”

“Well, my dear girl, that is the million-dollar question, isn’t it. From the information I’ve gathered, they are moving him soon, further upriver to a location for transfer. It’s all set to take place three days from now,” he nodded.

“Well, I guess I’ll go run this by Dutch and see what he makes of it. You comin’ by to share the information? Or are you just stoppin’ in town to pick up a girl or two?”

I scoff at Arthur’s abrupt rudeness. Trelawny doesn’t bat an eye.

“I’ll be there by tomorrow, I have some business to attend to in town. Give Dutch my love,” he waves over his shoulder as he retreats towards the saloon.

We both stood there and watched his back fade into the swinging doors of the Valentine saloon before I turned to watch Arthur gear up to get on the road. It was safe to say that that man, Trelawny, put Arthur in a sour mood. Even more so than the hangover did. He’s silent, not wanting to discuss things any further and I don’t push him. If I were being honest, my headache alone was enough to throw me off balance. I didn’t need Arthur’s annoyance taken out on me instead.

We both mounted our horses, me a little more slowly than Arthur did, but were soon headed off towards Horseshoe. Neither of us spurs our horses into anything faster than a trot, their hooves sloshing in the mud before hitting dry grass. It’s a quiet ride, for the most part, our bodies feeling like we could fall off our horse at any moment in time. It’s not until we slow to a walk that I let my mind do any real thinking.

He hasn’t asked what I remember, nor has he offered what he remembers either. And if he asked, I’m not even sure what I’d say. That I remember it all? All the way up until the walk back to Valentine? When he had to carry me halfway because I was genuinely going to blackout? Or maybe before that, when we were still in the saloon. Do I just skip every detail, every conversation we had? At what point do I stop remembering the way his lips felt on mine?

Lost in thought, I don’t even realize that my fingers have come up to touch my own lips, savoring the memory of the way he tasted. Of how he took control and devastated me at the same time. Do I choose to remember that he pulled away from me like I was made of hot coals, explaining how he couldn’t do this, not with someone like me?

It hurt then and it hurts now to remember it. Maybe I’ll have to file that one away in the “do not open again under any circumstances” folder. Right along with the memory of my family.

#Arthur Morgan #red dead redemption 2 fic #fanfiction #rdr2 fic #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan x oc #no y/n #drunk arthur #high honor arthur x reader #pascal-istheway

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pascal-istheway · 2 years

Text

Fandom: The Mandalorian

Rating: Not Rated

Characters/Relationships: Din Djarin, Boba Fett, Fennec Shand, The Armorer, Paz Vizsla, Peli Motto

Chapters: 1/1

Word Count: 3.4k

Tags: really sad, hurt with no comfort

read here on ao3

MASTERLIST

Din was accustomed to pain. He’d experienced it in his profession and in areas of his life. Pain from a blaster shot grazing his thigh where the beskar didn’t protect him. Pain from being punched, kicked, or stabbed. He’d even experienced pain from falling at a great height before he received his jetpack from the Armorer. But this was a new kind of pain - something he’s never really experienced before, something he didn’t know how to move forward from.

There is a pain in loss - pain in suffering. The Mandalorian had experienced it when he lost his parents as a child, but the bond quickly replaced it that his creed shared. His training became his comfort. He had been so young when his parents were killed that he barely had many memories of them. He’d been able to lose himself in his texts, fight through it by sparing with other foundlings and move on from the loss of his family - to fight away the memories.

He could remember his mother's smile when she sang to them over dinner. He could remember his father laughing outside of his family home where he played in the streets. He could remember the blaster fire of the Confederacy against the side of the buildings. He could remember the smell of the dust and ash as fire raged in the streets. He could remember the look on their terrified faces as they lowered him into hiding. And he could remember the fire and smoke illuminating behind the Mandalorian that pulled him to safety, leaving his family and all o the destruction behind.

Over time, the bad memories were replaced with new ones from his newly formed family. The Children of the Watch they were called. And he was indeed a child when he was taught new texts, made to learn how to fight with nothing but his fists. He found a certain comfort in the routine. Tedious tasks to build not only his body but also his mind. He became good at it, surpassing his fellow foundlings. Over time, Din’s body grew from the boy he once was into the man he is today but the memory of loss never eased with time. He would always remember.

He would tell himself that this pain was no different from his family's loss - that he would have to find a way to replace the child with bounty hunting and possibly the comfort of a woman. He would drown his sorrows when he was alone and completely beside himself. Sure, Din knew pain. But he’d never experienced pain like the loss of Grogu. The loss of his own foundling. This was pain that Din couldn’t move on from, no matter how much time had gone by. Not a single day after the other made this any easier.

—

Din limped through the streets of Glavis, his bounty turned in and although he’d technically done his job, he had been sloppy about it. He almost never went for the cold option, opting to get a higher bounty to bring them in alive. But Kaba Baiz was just one of many that he’d killed recently. Maybe this was just a way that he was masking the pain, maybe he was getting sloppy in his older years. But this wasn’t the Mandalorian he’d been trained to be - this wasn’t the type of bounty hunter his clan taught him to be.

The small marks lit up in his helmet, leading him towards the tunnels. His leg burned from his saber, cloth melted into his own skin from the fight back at the butcher shop. Yeah, he was getting sloppy. This was almost as embarrassing as the time he accidentally grazed his thigh with his blaster from putting it back in the holster on one of his very first bounties. That seemed so far away now from where he was, and he’d learned better than to hold his finger on the trigger when putting it back into the leather on his hip.

The marks, shaped like the design of his visor on the beskar helmet he wore, pointed him in the direction of a large grey door. He looked up, the burning orange mark of his kind, the Kyr’bes, burned at him to indicate that he would hopefully find more of his own behind the door. Find those who survived. He glanced around, not waiting long to see if anyone was following him before he pressed a button on the keypad to the right of the door and it slid open, revealing a set of ladders down to a lower level.

With his leg in the current condition, he was surprised he didn’t fall and plummet to his own death. Not that it would’ve mattered to him right now. Even though he knew that he had worth, he had a purpose, it was almost impossible to find the strength to keep pushing forward some days. It was like an impossible weight sinking down on him.

—

Paz Visla and The Armorer had helped him heal, and in return, he helped return the Armorers workshop back to somewhat proper order, despite being on the underground layer of the city. There was no laughter, no conversation outside of Paz asking about the saber, an eerie edge to his muffled voice behind his own helmet. When The Armorer asked about the spear, Din gladly gave it over, feeling an odd pang in his chest when she asked him what she should craft from the ancient beskar.

His voice was steady and even but there was a painful tightness in his chest as he said, “something for a foundling.”

The Armorer must not have caught the edge in his voice because she just responded with their creed motto, the words they speak to one another, what they live and die by. This is the way…

“For a specific foundling… for Grogu,” he says, fighting back the lump in his throat.

—

Din’s muscles ached, but the feeling was familiar. The Armorer sparred with him, her beskar tools swinging at him as she repeated the same words over and over. It was like training again and it kept his mind occupied on what was in front of him, not what he left behind.

“You are weak,” she said, almost mocking him. “The blade will become heavier the more you fight against it. You must fight with the blade, become one single unit - only then will the blade do your bidding,” she bit out as din fell to the floor for what felt like the hundredth time.

Paz’s voice came from behind them, “maybe the dark saber belongs in someone else's hands.” His large frame stood on the other end of the platform, unmoving as he stared Din down.

“Maybe, but you will never know,” he bit out in anger.

—

They both lay panting, chests heaving over their duel. Din’s hand around Paz’s neck, a vibroblade vibrating against his neck. His own head throbbing from being bashed against the metal support. The dark saber resting on the ground next to where Paz’s knees meet the floor.

“It is done!” the Armorer shouts in a steady voice over the two men as they pause in their fight. The silence in the pause was deafening, despite the sound of the low whur from the machines coming from all around them.

“Have you ever removed your helmet,” she asks Paz.

Din’s hand stiffens at the question, knowing that she will ask him the same. An even larger knot forms in the pits of his stomach.

“No,” he bites out, fists clenched at his side.

“Have you ever had it removed by others,” she asks again.

“No,” his words are even-toned and steady. Like the hands of the Mandalorian wrapped around his throat as he waits for the Armorer to ask him the same.

“This is the way,” she says, to which he replies in sync with her words.

She turns to Din, her visor giving no indication of her thoughts as she asks him the same question. He pauses, his blade still to Paz as the internal war rages on inside him. He knows that he can not lie, but how does he tell her the truth? He has removed his helmet, twice. But all for the sake of the foundling - for his foundling. It was a matter of life and death the first time, but the second? He wanted his son to see him.

No, not son. His foundling. He was not the child’s father, despite feeling like he was. Despite the strong attachment he formed the small green baby that was far older than him. He couldn’t fall back down that hole.

“Din Djarin…” she trailed off, “have you ever removed your helmet?” Her tone was flat and direct. The silence between the three of them was deafening. “By creed, you must vow,” she takes a short step towards him.

It’s now or never, he must come clean. For the sake of the creed and his own sanity, he has to tell them what he’s done. He can’t live in the lie any longer. Perhaps coming clean will help ease the pain that lives in his veins. Perhaps, he can be forgiven.

“I…” he pauses as he closes his eyes behind the helmet and ducks his head, letting go of the fear of the truth, “I have.”

He wasn’t quite sure what he was expecting, a reward for honesty perhaps. But instead, he was labeled a traitor, excommunicated from the only other family he’s ever known. One could not see her eyes behind her own helmet, but if Din could, he knows what kind of betrayal hides behind them. The last of his own kind looked at him with disgust. The knot that had formed in the depth of his stomach breaks into a canyon the size of a planet. Then you are a Mandalorian no more…

—

He wandered, finding himself numb and heartbroken on Tattoine. Peli had found him a new ship, a replacement for another thing he had lost. The Razor Crest. It might not heal the gaping wound that rests in his stomach and floods his entire being, but it’s a start. A step in the right direction.

“What is this?” he asked, pointing to the Naboo fighter jet, “I thought you said you had a replacement for the Crest?”

He was angry, thinking back to the moment he watched his beloved ship explode into a million pieces. Anger bubbled up in his chest beneath the beskar, threatening to rip through his lungs and tear poor Peli to shreds.

“I don’t have time for this,” he huffs, turning to leave.

“Now just wait a minute! Do you have any idea what I have for you here? This is an N-1 Starfighter, handmade for the royal guard that was commissioned personally by the queen of Naboo!”

Din points at the starfighter, “this - no this is a pile of junk.”

“This is a classic! Do you know how hard it was to find something like this?” Peli laughs before continuing on about how she intended to clean it up, fix and repair all the parts, and upgrade things.

He should’ve walked away, taken his credits back, and just moved on until Peli found a new Razor Crest. But something pulled him in, the idea of having a job, something to keep his mind busy while he figured out his next move. And even though this ship wasn’t a good option, he needed the work. He needed to stay busy.

The ship came together in a matter of weeks, repaired, buffed, and ready to fly. He offered to take it for a test run, sailing up into the sky with Peli’s voice ringing in his ears.

“You’re used to flying a gunship, she’s a starfighter so fly her like one Mando!”

Din smiled under his helmet, shaking his head before thrusting the handles forward and taking off like a blaster shot, “dank ferrik she’s fast!” he laughs.

For the first time in weeks, hell for the first time in months he smiled. He felt free - he felt alive. The speed of the ship around him filled his chest with a thrumming buzz, electricity snapping at his skin underneath the beskar as he whipped through Beggars Canyon and into the sky.

Peli was right, it was nothing like a gunship. This speeder was sleek. The ship maneuvered unlike anything he’d ever flown before. It was incredible, feeling the weight of the speed push against his chest. It was a familiarity he wasn’t accustomed to, but maybe, he thought, maybe he could get used to this…

—

The fight hadn’t lasted long, but he was tired and his body was sore from the work with Peli. The street thugs had caught him by surprise, something that never would’ve happened if he had just been more focused, hadn’t let his mind get caught up in things, and had been alert to his surroundings.

This planet wasn’t foreign to him, but it had been a while since he’d last visited. Things have changed here, including the new leader. Fennec had asked for his help back at the mechanic shop. She even offered to pay him which would be nice in the meantime but Fennec and Fett had done too much for Din. They’d helped him when he needed it most. He couldn’t take their coin.

He had agreed and told Fennec he had to run an errand before he reunited with the two. Which unfortunately ended very badly. Someone had gotten word of his arrival on the planet, someone that didn’t want a Mandalorian snooping around for his small green child. He’d had someone try to take him before and this felt similar. Whoever sent the assassins to fight him, well he would be sure that next time, he would send them back their heads.

One of Fennec’s people found Din lying in the street, badly wounded from a vibroknife to the gut. He was alone, passed out, and completely unaware that they had picked him up and thrown him on the speeder bike to take him back to Boba Fett. Perhaps they didn’t know who he was, but saw a Mandalorian in full beskar and just assumed that Boba would want to deal with it.

When the large gate opened, so did Din’s eyes. He was met with a concerned Fennec and Boba looking down at him.

“I’m fine,” he grumbled out, “just a little scratch.”

Din attempted to swing his leg over the speeder but in a moment of weakness, he fell, planting his helmet into the sand at their feet.

“Get him to my bacta tank,” Boba Fett announced as two people came to his side and carried him up towards the tank.

—

“I can’t… you can’t remove it,” he groaned as they attempted to strip him from his armor. “Not the helmet, please,” he cried out, his hand falling to the wound that was bleeding steadily.

“Mando, you need the tank, and you can’t be in there with the helmet,” a girl in front of him said shyly.

“Then let a droid do it. No one can see my face.”

He was firm on this, not wavering on the subject of removing his helmet. Even though he’d done it in the past, he wanted to atone for those sins. He wanted to repent. This was not the way. To remove one’s helmet was worse than death and he had done it - twice. There may have been no coming back from it, but he didn’t want to risk the chance of regaining the Armorer’s favor. He needed it more than anything.

—

The bacta tank had done a little, but clearly not enough. He had managed to get his wound dressed and covered, then returned to his own clothing that had been washed and set out for him by a droid, including his armor. He left most of the beskar in the spot it lay, taking the helmet in his bare hands.

The reflection that looked back at him wasn’t one he recognized. How could he let himself go like this? How could he have let himself stray so far from the texts, from everything he’s ever known?

His messy wet brown curls stood out to him as he ran a finger through them before sighing and placing the shiny helmet back on his head. He may be safe with Boba and Fennec, but he would never remove his helmet again. No matter how safe he felt with anyone.

The trip into the dining hall was painful, his hand clutching at the wrap around his side. The two sat at the table, eating and talking about the business they needed his help with. It was always interesting to stand in the shadows and watch people interact. You could learn so much about someone from what they do when they think no one else is around. It’s how he caught most of his bounties. By figuring out what they do when no one is looking.

He cleared his throat, making everyone in the room turn to see the mostly armorless Mandalorian standing there, one hand gripped around his waist and the other gripping onto the doorframe. The knuckles against the door frame were white and if anyone could see his face, they would see the grimace of pain across it.

Although it wasn’t just the pain from his stomach that was hurting him - but the pain in his heart that was like a festering wound, refusing to heal. It needed to heal, he needed to move forward from the whole experience. But how do you just move forward when you’re entire religion and creed is built on forming attachments? How do you say goodbye and just move on from the foundling that felt as real as your own child? Your own flesh and blood.

He had cried enough about this in the comfort of his own presence. Cried himself to sleep, cried so hard he vomited. Then he tried other methods to help heal. He turned to alcohol, praying he could drink away the pain. But instead, it only made him worse. He had to try a new tactic, so he went searching for those of his clan. Found the information he was looking for, and in return was abandoned by those he held closest. He had no clan anylonger. Had no one to say was his home. He had lost those, partially by his own doing.

“Mando, feeling better I see?” Boba Fett asked.

He nodded, although the pain was almost unbearable. He took a step forward, groaning loudly before falling to his knees. A sob escaped his chest which he quickly worked to stifle.

“Mando, if you’re hurting this bad, you should go back in my bacta tank,” Boba Fett said out of concern for the Mandalorian crumpled on the floor.

He couldn’t hold it back anymore and he let out a strangled sob, tears now flowing freely behind his helmet as he slowly curled his knees up in a bent position. His elbows rested on his knees and he rested his hands on either side of the shiny beskar that enclosed his face.

It didn’t matter anymore, none of this mattered anymore.

He removed his helmet slowly for the second time since the Armorer said he was an outcast - that he was no longer a Mandalorian because he had in fact removed his helmet before. His brown eyes were shiny and wet from the tears that streamed down his cheeks, lips trembling as he finally gave in to the pain he’d been feeling all this time. This was real. This was pain that Din desperately tried not to let himself feel. This was the pain of a father losing his child, his son.

Slowly, his eyes looked up at the now very concerned Boba Fett and Fennec Shand. They looked at him with sympathy and understanding. Both know their own versions of loss and the pain that accompanies it. Fennec reached out towards him in a moment of her own weakness, feeling the hurt right alongside him.

His teeth sank into his bottom lip in an attempt to cage in the sobs but it didn’t matter. They broke out like an emotional dam that he’d been holding back for months.

“I don’t think they make bacta strong enough for the pain I’m in,” he sobbed.

How lucky he was to have something that made saying goodbye so goddamn hard.

#the mandalorian #din djarin #sad #hurt with no comfort #I was in my feels #Mando #tbobf 1x05 #TBOBF #tbobf spoilers #sw tbobf #the book of boba fett #pascal-istheway

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pascal-istheway · 3 years

Text

Kinktober Day 1

I was going to try to do Kinktober this year but may not be able to keep up with it all between wedding planning and shit. Anyways, Here’s day 1

Kink: Tit Fucking [18+]

Warning: NSFW

Pairing: Javier Pena X Fem!Reader

Zoe’s notes: I can totally picture Javi needing to watch himself in this way, so enjoy!

Word count: 2.3k

KINKTOBER 2021 MASTERLIST

You’d been working all day on a new lead. A sicario had been caught on tape disclosing a location of one of Pablo’s various labs. The only problem was the satellite connection wasn’t stable so of course, half the call was cut out and you had to do your best to try and fill in the blanks.

You sat at your desk, hands weaved into your hair as you rested your head in frustration. Everyone else had already gone home, your partner, Agent Murphy, being one of the last to leave beside you. As far as you knew, you were alone.

You sign in frustration, closing the file and grabbing your apartment keys from the top drawer of your desk before trudging off to catch a ride home.

You hadn’t accounted for the fact that it was after midnight on a Tuesday and no cabs would be running this late, especially near the office of an American DEA agent. Could this day get any worse?

Defeated, your feet carry you back inside as you mentally prepare for the roughest night sleep on the world’s shittiest couch known to man. But as your feet are slowly carrying you up the cold concrete steps, your other partner, Javi, comes barreling through the glass doors, clearly as frustrated as you were feeling earlier.

“Oh, shit, uh sorry there partner,” he skidded to a halt in front of you, “did you forget something?”

“Yeah, no cabs run this late,” you laugh, feeling silly for not realizing how late it had been earlier, “was just going to crash on the couch in the break room but I-“

“Nonsense, I’ll drive,” he held his keys up, jingling them around his finger.

You hop into his older model Jeep, pulling the door behind you and clicking your seatbelt across your lap. He heads off towards your building, which coincidentally, is the same one he lives in.

Being one floor below him was nice. You had the security if needed. The downside was his late-night visitors. The informants he kept company with would keep you up into odd hours of the night. As if your job wasn’t already hard enough, try doing it with little to no sleep, pining for a man who is upstairs fucking another woman.

He killed the engine in his usual spot, parking nose out as he always did. The night just felt like it was dragging and you couldn’t wait to slip under the covers and blackout for what few hours you had left. You were thankful though, tomorrow you had requested to take off and desperately needed the rest.

You followed each other up the stairs, your footsteps amplified by your partner as they echoed in the stairwell. When you arrived at your door, you stopped, turning your keys over in your palm.

“So I guess this is me,” you say at the same time Javi says, “do you want to come up for a drink?”

You stand there and smile, laughing awkwardly with him. He rubs the back of his neck, “I mean, if you’re tired, maybe another -“

You interrupt him, “Javi, I’d love to. But only if you have whiskey,” pushing past him, you start up the stairs, smirking at him over your shoulder because you know damn well all that man has in his place is whiskey. How many late nights had you spent together going through surveillance photos over a bottle and cheap takeout?

“What do you think I am, an animal? Of course, I have whiskey,” he shouts after you and takes the steps two at a time to beat you to his door.

He unlocks it, letting you in first, and closes it behind you with a soft click. You look around, taking in the bachelor pad he has created for himself. It was messy and unkempt, just like you’d expect from someone like Javi. Empty bottles sat on the coffee table from last night’s game you assumed he watched with Murphy, some food leftover in a bowl on the side table.

His voice interrupted your thoughts when he asked, “usual with ice?”

“Hmm?” your head whipped around to see him holding two glasses with a dark amber liquid in them.

“I asked if you wanted ice,” he smiled, handing you one of the glasses. You look down at the brown liquid swirling around the sides of the glass and smile.

“Oh. This is fine,” the glass feels cool as you bring it to your lips, letting the liquid sit on your tongue before sliding down your throat. Javi wasn’t one to spend a lot on the good stuff, not that you minded. He didn’t have to impress you by any means. And it’s not like you guys could afford the good shit on a DEA’s salary anyways.

Javi watches with interest, his eyes tracking the way your throat moves slightly when you swallowed - the way your tongue swipes out after you take your sip. It makes his pulse quicken, and it wasn’t from his own drink. You could feel his eyes on you, scanning your body from top to bottom.

His reputation around the embassy wasn’t unknown to you. Javier was a womanizer in the sense that his reputation with his informants went far beyond the occasional reward for a casual tip.

It was true that he loved women and that they loved him in return, and they loved him often. But not just because he was a handsome DEA agent. No, they loved him for far more than his skills outside of the bedroom.

“You were working awfully late Agent,” he jokes with you, knowing damn well that you always are one of the last to leave.

“I could say the same for you, Javi,” you smile, taking another long sip from your glass, “you are normally out of there well before I am.”

“I had something I was working on. The time got away from me I guess,” he stretched his arm above his head, his shirt poking up to reveal the slightest bit of his stomach. The beautifully tanned skin was peppered with hair leading down below his pants, something you noticed every time he did this in the office.

“Let me guess, Sharon over in the records department?” you laugh at him.

He pauses, squinting at you before joining in on the joke, “haha very funny…”

“Sorry but for a guy like you…” your words trail off as he takes a few steps closer, his glass hanging down at his side now.

“A guy like me, huh. And what exactly do you know about a guy like me, huh?” he whispers your name, eyes squinted as if he’s challenging you for more.

You swallow, your stomach shrinking while your heart beats wildly in your chest. Your eyes meet and suddenly, you get an overwhelming heat that burns between your thighs. Shit maybe it was the alcohol talking, but this version of Javi was one you didn’t ever want to back down from.

Smiling a crooked grin, you take another large sip from your glass, “I know all there is to know about guys like you, Pena…” your eyes slowly trailing down his body, “and I mean, all there is…” your finger reaches out, nail dragging itself down his chest from the left to the right before trailing lower. You finish your glass in one sip, never taking your eyes off him.

He takes a sharp inhale, tongue darting out to lick his lower lip. Your eyes immediately follow the shape of his lips. “Unless there’s something you think I still need to know…” words trailing off accepting the challenge he presented to you. He takes a step back, finishing the remainder of his glass and setting it down. In one swift motion, he grabs you, lips colliding with yours in a frenzied passion that overwhelms you.

A moan escaped your lips as he grabbed you and hoisted you up on the counter, his lips finding their way to your neck and not so gently nibbling at the sensitive skin below your ear. His fingers threading through your hair as he moved it aside to get better access to your neck.

“Javi, we -” you moan again as he bit down sharply, ignoring your protests.

“I know,” he whispers, taking your head in his hands. You both reach for each other’s clothes, desperately trying to get out of them.

“Javi….” you groan as he rips open your blouse, buttons flying in every direction.

“Bed,” he panted, picking you up and letting your thighs wrap around his waist. Your arms grasp around his neck and shoulders, clinging for life while your mouths never leave each other. He walks you blindly through his apartment like you’d assumed he’s done a thousand times before with however many women. But right here at this moment, you don’t care.

He kicked open the door and tossed you on the bed, stripping each other’s clothes in record time. Kisses planted on every inch of your body as he crawled over you. His hand snakes up over your chest as he takes each breast in his palms, squeezing and pulling them in just the right way.

“Jesus… could you be any more perfect?” he looks at you as he takes one in his mouth, tongue attacking the pebbled nipple, teeth ever so slightly scraping along the tip as he sucks and licks to a perfect peak.

You moan, legs spreading wider underneath him. Your hands find their way into his dark hair, weaving your fingers through it and giving a gentle tug to pull his mouth back up to you. He leaves this small trail of kisses up your chest, following the curve of your neck and chin, before claiming your mouth again. He whispers your name into your mouth and you swallow it whole, tongues mixed in pleasure.

You completely miss what he had asked over the sound of your own moaning. Sitting up, you look at him, eyes drunk with lust and whiskey, “wha?” is all you manage to get out.

“Can I? Fuck them?” he palms your breasts again, breathing heavily as he watches his hands knead them in slow circles. Clearly, he has a thing for the perky breasts that you hide so well beneath your shirt. All you can do is nod slowly, mouth slightly agape. You’d never done anything like this before, so your movements were clumsy as he turned you slightly over the edge of the bed to where your head was hanging off the edge.

You feel him spit into your cleavage before he unbuttons his pants, sliding them off to reveal the most exquisite cock you’d ever laid your eyes on. Eyes wide, you reach out and stroke him, seeing his knees buckle slightly at your touch.

“Fu-fuck…” he groaned, looking down to where your hand was stroking him. Your eyes were just able to look past where he was standing on either side of your head to see him as he leaned over you and slipped his cock into your cleavage.

“Hold your tits together, I want to feel them, baby…” he instructed, pushing them together with your hands in his. You hold them steady, kneading them ever so slightly as he slips his cock right in between them. His head drops forward and a loud sigh escapes from his mouth, eyes fluttering half-closed.

You imagine what this must feel like for him as he pumps his hips in and out of your tits, watching him from this angle is absolutely erotic, something you never thought would turn you on this much. What you weren’t expecting was the feeling of his hand to find its way between your thighs, slipping under the soft fabric and between the folds to find your sweet center.

His thick fingers found that small nub immediately, your core completely soaked with arousal that he didn’t even need to do much except take his hand and rub small circles. Your back arched as his fingers worked their magic, your chest pushing up into him as his hips flexed faster. Cock slapping against your chest, the sound echoing throughout his apartment.

You moan as he slips a finger deep into your tight hole, then a second, curling them to hit that sweet spot in a matter of seconds. How he was able to find it so quickly, you’d never know but at this point, you didn’t care. He was magic with those hands.

He pumped his fingers in and out to the rhythm of his hips, his balls slapping against your chest in tandem. You played with your breasts, massaging and kneading them in an attempt to massage his cock through them. The grunts he made just spurred you on, making your hips rise off the bed slightly and ride along with his hand.

Pretty soon, you could feel his balls clenching close to his body, the sign of his explosion coming to a head. And it was really perfect timing because he was so close to getting you to a full-body orgasm. You could feel the muscles clenching in your abdomen, like tethers ready to snap one after another.

Like a load under too much pressure, you did just that - you snap. An explosion of color erupts from your cunt, liquid flowing from you and down his hand as he swears and finally bursts over your chest, showering you with his own evidence.

You both lay there, spent and completely useless, bodies sweaty and sticky. Eventually, Javi does get you something to clean yourself with, tossing it at your side. You manage to clean yourself and start to gather your clothes but as you sit up, you feel the bed dip and his arms snake around your waist, pulling you into his side.

Drunkenly, you hear him whisper your name, “sshhh… just stay for tonight…” and who are you to deny him? After all, he did just give you the greatest orgasm you’ve had since you arrived in Colombia.

#kinktober2021 #kinktober #fictober #javier peña x reader #javier peña #narcos #pascal-istheway #kinktober day 1

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pascal-istheway · 3 years

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Bounty Flaw - Chapter 3: New Beginnings

Read it here on AO3

Fandom: The Mandalorian, Star Wars

Rating: Not Rated

Chapter Warnings: Smut *NSFW

Character Relationships: Din Djarin x F Reader

Click here to the Spotify playlist that goes with this chapter!!

-------

MASTERLIST

I honestly have no clue what the hell happened. One minute, things were fine, then she was screaming. Scared the shit out of me. When I turned around, the kid was falling and she was bawling. I was just as confused as she was though, but she was just so broken… I couldn’t make sense of what happened any more than she could. But I just knew that whatever it was, I had to help her at that moment.

And of course, as soon as I got things somewhat under control, then I had to open my fat mouth. Maker, I’m such a fucking idiot. “You can call me Mando…” What kind of shit was that? Here was this beautifully broken girl who laid her entire history out in an attempt to connect with me, as I asked her to, and this is the best I can give her? The disappointment on her face when I said it too was just beyond upsetting. I could see the hurt.

I wanted to apologize, to give her something, but everything I tried to think of just didn’t seem right. Plus, what good was an apology? “Hey, sorry you spilled your deepest parts and all I could come up with was a stupid line about calling me Mando!”

I feel like such an asshole. This has been one emotional ride after another. I have better luck getting the kid to take a nap than I do with her crying fits. Some days I just find her sitting alone in a corner of the Crest, quietly crying to herself. She just looks so helpless, like a little baby bird all alone without anyone to care for her. Is it wrong to feel the need to help her? Is this the way?

------

It’s been one week. One whole week since you or Mando have spoken a single word to one another. The tension in the air between you guys is so thick you can hardly stand to even be in the same room as him. You can call me Mando . His dumb, modulated voice keeps ringing in your head. What kind of fucking bullshit is that? That is not an appropriate reaction to spilling your whole life story to another person. What a dick.

That whole night was spent crying quietly in the hull after he was so hostile with you. You literally poured your entire heart out to him, had a fucking mental breakdown, and he reacts that way? Wasn’t it his idea in the first place to not turn you in? He drives you insane. Maker , why does he affect your emotions so much?

Now, you’re worried sick about him. It has been three days since you landed on Endor. Mando had parked the ship in a very isolated part of the forest to keep the Crest from being discovered. Not to protect you, only the kid , you think to yourself.

The kid has been sleeping through most of it, but that doesn’t make you any less nervous. The past two days have been spent with you finding ways to keep yourself busy. Never in your life did you think you would have enjoyed cleaning as much as you have. Everything in the Crest was now spotless and organized. He will probably be irritated at you for touching his stuff. Oh well . Not your fault he can’t keep his shit clean.

As you pace around the inside of the Crest, your mind starts to wonder what you would have to do were he not to return. The responsibility of the kid and his ship would fall into your hands. Hell, you don’t even know how to fly the damn thing, you were no pilot. Back on Tatooine, you were a bartender - at best. On a good day, you could plug in a few droids. But even if you could figure it out, it isn’t like you could figure out where the fuck you were, in the middle of the forest, on this damn planet.

You were too scared to go outside and look around, Mando’s warning to not leave the ship still ringing in your ears. Curiosity had crept into your head a few times the last week, making you wonder when you would be able to see something other than the inside of this ship. The windshield in the cockpit didn’t give you the type of view you wanted. No, you would give it another day before you resorted to finally opening the doors and taking a peek.

Between the occasional glance out the window and pacing back and forth the length of the ship, you were starting to go out of your mind. There was nothing left to clean, no parts left to organize since you’d already done it and redone it three times. Sometimes, time could be a good thing. There was a time to settle in, time to adjust… but this was time to overthink and it wasn’t doing you any favors.

Emotions all over the place, you sit down on the floor of the crest with your back against some crates, bring your knees to your head, and place your forehead gently to them. The emotional turmoil of the past week weighs down on you, suffocating you and causing tears to start welling up in your eyes. No, no, no. I will not cry. I am okay. Deep breaths.

You didn’t want to admit it to yourself, but you were really worried about him. Even though he has been a complete asshole to you, that didn’t mean you wanted something bad to happen to him. The weight of having to take care of the kid, your brother, being stranded here, just everything seemed to be too much.

Your finger became tangled in your hair as you twirled it aggressively around a loose strand hanging from your face. A single tear escaped from one of your eyes and stained your cheek on the way down. You took the ends of your hair and held it in front of your face, looking at the jagged edges, taking a shaky breath in as you examined the strand.

Next thing you know, you can hear air hissing from the other side of the ship. The sound makes you jump out of your skin as the steam decompresses around the ramp, the platform slowly moving down. The slight change in air sways your hair around your face, the loose strands blowing with the wind.

It takes a few seconds for you to register that there is no danger, even after you see him walking up the ramp, bounty dragging behind him by a rope around his legs. All you can hear is your own heartbeat in your ears as you shakily bring your hand to your chest in a futile attempt to steady your breathing shivers rack over your body as you take in deep gulps of air. He stops to take in the sight of you sitting there on the floor. He makes no sound, no movement as he just stares at you through the black visor.

You look up from your spot, Mando standing there silently watching. Patiently waiting for you to say something - to do something.

“You…” you pause, swallowing a lump in your throat, “you scared me,” you croak out when you finally catch your breath. It takes a moment before sound slowly returns to your ears and you feel your muscles beginning to relax.

Realizing there are tears on your cheeks, you bring the back of your hand up to quickly wipe them away, sniffling as you do. He saw the tears, that is for certain. Embarrassment floods over you once again. It’s ridiculous how weak and feeble you have acted for the past week. You’re going to have to toughen up if you plan on sticking with a Mandalorian.

He finally moves in the direction of the carbonite chamber with his bounty dragging behind him. The sound of metal clanking as he finally shoves the poor soul into the chamber and slams the button. That could’ve been you just a week ago… still could be.

Mando sighs as he turns back towards you. Realizing you are still crumpled up on the floor, you begin to try and stand on your feet. Your shaky knees wobble on the way up.

“Are you… ok?” He questions tentatively.

“I-I’m fine. I just… wait…” you pause, dusting the imaginary dust off your butt, “where have you been?” you ask, voice starting to rise. “Your bounty was only a few hours away. Why did you leave us for two days? We had no idea where you were… or if you were even alive!” you exclaim angrily, arms crossing defensively in front of your chest.

He offers no explanation except for lifting up the satchel on his hip in your direction. As he brings the satchel over his shoulders, you roll your eyes. Maybe you did want him to be somewhere in a hole dead. However, you regret the thought almost as soon as it formed when he pushes the satchel in your direction.

“I was getting these…” he paused, waiting for you to take the satchel, “for you. I walked to Quork City to get them. I was hoping to have been in and out within one day, but the walk was longer than I remembered.”

Silence fills the air of the hull as you cautiously reach out to take the satchel. He… he got you something?

He brings his hands to the front of his body and ties his fingers together. The way he is standing is a little awkward, almost like he’s a bit shy or nervous. It’s kind of cute, seeing him get so nervous about whatever is in the bag. Who would’ve thought he had a vulnerable side?

You fumble with the latch holding the bag together as you start to unfold it. Whatever is in here feels bulky. Almost feels like… no. It can’t be.

Except it’s exactly what you thought. The satchel falls to the floor as you completely reveal a brand new pair of black, leather boots.

A gasp escapes your lips as you turn the boots over in your hands to examine them. They are black in color, with very sturdy outsoles, and a few leather straps winding around the ankle. They lace up the front to ensure the perfect fit.

“I noticed you were walking around here barefoot for a few days. Your other shoes were ruined, so I threw them in the compactor. Figured it was only right I get you a new pair,” he says as he starts to fidget with his fingers.

“Mando… I-” you can’t seem to find the right words. Checking the inside of the boots, you notice they are a size too big. The realization makes you giggle.

“What?” he questions.

“I… I absolutely love them,” you start, “but, I just noticed they are a size too big.” As you burst out in a fit of giggles, you notice he starts to fidget his hands even more.

“I… I’m… sorry, I had to guess the size and I thought I had gotten the right one. I can take them-”

“No, they are perfect. I love them…” you look up at him, “really, I do. I can wear some bulky socks or something. Thank you.” Gratitude washes over you as you realize how much trouble he went through, along with being the first to make you smile in a really long time. The feeling is not very familiar, and it makes you very emotional for some reason. This was so… sweet of him. He had been a total ass to you lately, but this was so thoughtful.

Feeling the tears start to pool in your eyes again, you start to babble. “This is… just so thoughtful of you. I appreciate it so much and I’m so sorry . I have just been a complete mess here the past few weeks and I- I’m just so… afraid. Afraid for my brother, afraid of not finding him. Afraid of having to go back… just afraid. ”

One final tear escapes from your eye as you try your hardest not to get worked up again. Before you can reach up and wipe it away, you feel a gloved hand gently touching the side of your cheek. It happened so fast, you don’t know how to react. His thumb starts to slowly graze your cheek, wiping away the single tear that escaped.

“It’s okay to be afraid sometimes” He affirmed.

Body reacting before the mind, you lean your head into his palm, extremely grateful for the comfort. It has been an emotional rollercoaster the past few weeks. It feels nice for someone to offer you some sort of validation. Even if it’s from the Mandalorian who has been the reason for your emotional turmoil.

As soon as your cheek leans into his palm, he yanks his hand back so quick your head jerks. Oh no… why did I do that? Maker, I am such a dumbass. Not seeming to be able to make your body move, you drop your head to the floor and keep your eyes trained on your bare feet.

“No… I… I’m sorry I didn’t mean to- I just… don’t…” he lets out a long sigh without saying anything else.

Too embarrassed to look up at him, you start to back away. “No, no it’s okay. I’m sorry I’m just so… overwhelmed. ” You begin. “I have been… awful to you… and I’m sorry. Everything is just all over the place. You have been kind to me. Not turning me in… that was something hardly anyone would’ve done, and I should be grateful. Buying me a pair of boots? That was also something nobody has ever done for me. It just threw me for a loop. I’m sorry I keep making the situation worse.”

Before he can say anything else, you are quickly whipping yourself up the ladder and into the co-pilot's seat. This is a safe spot where you can’t screw up anything else. What were you thinking? It probably gave him the wrong impression when you leaned your cheek into his hand. That’s the thing, it was not a reaction you had thought about. It’s like it just occurred naturally. Now, he probably thinks you are absolutely crazy if he didn’t already. The last thing you needed was him thinking you had a thing for him or something. He already hates you, you just know it.

Or does he? Your thoughts interrupt your thinking. He did just go way out of his way to buy you a brand new pair of boots. He cared enough to notice you were running around here barefoot. Maybe it wasn’t a big deal to him. Maybe it was nothing.

Maker, why does this ship have to be so damn small. It’s not like you can hide from him forever. For now, though, you are going to avoid him as much as possible. It was stupid of you to think that for a moment, the tension between the two of you would finally stop. You keep finding ways to make it worse. Maybe you should just lock yourself in the bunk and never talk to him again.

------

It has been so awkward in here now. If anything, you miss the tension that was filled with anger, not this uncomfortable silence. Once again, you two are in the not speaking phase. How do we keep getting here? You got to give it to him, though, he is a trooper for not throwing you out on your ass yet. You’d tried talking to him, but every time you’d gone to say something you’d just clammed up.

So the last three days have been spent sitting in silence together in the cockpit and sneaking away to care for the kid when you can. You have been using the kid as much as possible to provide an escape when the air is too thick. That happens more than you want to admit. He can only stay awake for so long, though. He is about the sleepiest little creature you have ever laid eyes on.

Since he is currently napping, you find yourself having nothing to do but sit here, in complete silence, with Mando in the cockpit. He won’t even as much as look at you. He just keeps pressing little buttons here and there and fidgeting with the controls. You watch his arms as they flex. He has nice arms. Actually, he has nice everything. Your thoughts take you by surprise, bringing a puzzled look to your face as you try to push the thoughts aside.

He starts spinning his fingers around in mid-air like he is trying to decide what button is appropriate to hit. It looks like he is doing anything he can to stay busy and not make conversation with you. Maker, you can’t take this anymore.

“Mando?” It comes out as a squeak, with no confidence behind the question whatsoever.

His hand freezes, hovering above the controls before he slowly turns his chair in your direction. Making no sound, you assume that is your cue to continue.

“Wh-where are we going next?” Wanting to ask about when you guys will start looking for your brother, you try to steer the conversation in that direction. You reach up and twirl a stray lock of hair around your fingers, anxious about his response.

“Not a very nice place,” he replies. Silence fills the cockpit as you wait for the answer to your question. “Corellia,” he adds without further explanation.

Trying not to sink down in defeat, you decide to ask about your brother later. This is not the time to add more tension to the pile.

A thought suddenly pops up in your head. Is Corellia pretty? Does it have water? An ocean? Maybe flowers? It has been so long since you have even seen the outside of this ship.

“Is Corellia… pretty?” The question comes out without a single thought.

He continues to stare at you without any movement. “It’s… something. A lot of architecture. There are some pretty places I guess… it’s just… rare.”

Architecture . “You mean like a city?” You question.

“Yeah, pretty big city… why?” He asks.

“I just… wanted to get a picture of what it was like… you know...” clearing your throat, you continue. “I… I have just been stuck in here for what… almost two weeks now?” hoping he understands what you are trying to ask, you stop talking. Your eyes plead with him by staring into the part of the visor you imagine to be where his eyes are.

“You… want to go out?” He asks. “Is that what you are trying to get at?”

Your finger has become tangled in that one strand of hair. This whole situation has put you on edge.

“I just… I’m going a little stir crazy. Especially for someone who has never left Tatooine. I had just hoped… maybe I could see… something ?” you struggle to find the right words, but continue, “... grass. I have always wanted to see grass.” A big smile spreads across your face as you imagine the scene.

“Oh, and flowers! I imagine they are just as beautiful as they seem. And water? I would love to see water… Like a body of water. I never even saw as much as a drop of rain on Tatooine. Always imagined seeing a large body of water. Could you just imagine? Water… in abundance? It’s unheard of!” Realizing how dumb you must sound, you try to elaborate. “Well, of course not unheard of for you I-”

“Woah, slow down there, little bird,” his hands shoot up, signaling for you to stop talking. “All in good time. You will get to see those things if you stick around long enough.”

Maker, you sure know how to ramble. Wait a minute, stick around long enough? How long does he expect you to stay?

“Depends how long it takes to find my brother,” your smile starts to fade as the words leave your mouth. Realizing you probably shouldn’t have said that, you look up to see if he has any reaction.

“Don’t worry little bird… we will find him. I just have to have the money for fuel to start searching.” He stops for a moment and clears his throat, “That is why we are going to Corellia, big money, you know, kind of like you,” he jokes.

The statement doesn’t make you angry this time. Instead, you find yourself starting to let out a small laugh. He just made a joke with you, maybe he doesn’t hate you.

“You bet your ass I am,” you joke back. He lets out a slight chuckle. It takes you by complete surprise.

“What was that? Does he laugh? Wow, he’s human? Thought you were some sort of droid.” Laughter erupts from you. Before you can stop it, a snort escapes from your nose. Your hand comes up quickly and slams over your mouth and nose.

“That was… cute,” he shoots back at you sarcastically.

Your face is bright red. It is absolutely horrific when you snort like that. Granted, you hadn’t laughed in a long time, so you had forgotten it was a habit of yours. For some reason, even though he meant it sarcastically, you were hung up on the word “ cute ” coming out of his mouth.

“Alright, Tauntaun, I need to focus here and get us landed on Corellia safely.” He swivels around in his chair and gently places his fingers on the steering bar.

“Tauntaun? What is that?” The question comes out in a defensive tone.

“Hideous creatures, they make awful snorting sounds… I hate them,” is his only reply.

It’s quiet for a few moments as you watch him begin to land the ship. Not even thinking twice about it, the fact that he adds to his last statement absolutely shocks you.

“Only the snorting part,” he says quietly, feeling the need to clarify, “you’re definitely not hideous, and I do not hate you.”

Butterflies erupt in your stomach. He doesn’t hate me… and he doesn’t think I’m hideous. Does that mean he thinks I’m- Your thoughts are interrupted by how roughly the ship hits the ground. It startles you and jerks you almost completely out of your seat.

Suddenly, a spark shoots out of one of the buttons on the dash of the Crest. A screech escapes your lips as you hear a loud zapping sound. Sealing your eyes shut, you wait in silence for a few minutes, just knowing the damn ship is on fire. When nothing happens, you slowly open up one eye and see smoke shooting from the control panel.

“Dank Ferrick!” Mando shouts in frustration.

With wide eyes, you shoot him a horrified glance. All he manages to do is turn around, look at you, and raise his arms in the air. He shakes his head before letting out a loud sigh. Getting up slowly, he walks over to the other side of the cockpit and grabs a little box stashed above the doorway. Guess he’s a handyman now.

------

Mando has been working on the ship for a few hours now, grappling with different tools and wires, mouthing off about the repair guy that was last under here - even though you were pretty sure it was him. The whole time has been spent with you talking his ears off, asking him about the planet you had landed on. When you look outside, you can see a huge city in the distance. Immediately surrounding you, though, is a greenery patch. There is actual grass on the ground outside, and a few trees. They taunt you as they dance in the wind.

Pressing your face to the glass, you try to make out every detail of the scenery below you. It doesn’t even bother you that you look like a complete child right now, eyes wide and excited with wonder.

“Alright, I think that does it,” Mando says beside you as he bangs a few tools in a box and shoves it back into a small spot on a shelf.

It hardly registers in your ears. You’re too focused on the beautiful scenery outside to focus on anything else.

“Hey, little bird.” He snaps you out of your trance. “Let’s go,” he grabs at your arm and lightly tugs at it, beckoning for you to follow him.

Following him without question, you get to the ladder behind him and let him go first. You place your foot on the top rung and start to slowly descend the ladder. Your movements are clunky and fast in an attempt to get down the ladder quickly; your foot slips and you lose your balance momentarily.

A strong hand slides up against your back and steadies you, fingers wrapping around your waist and holding you firmly to the ladder. Electrifying : that is the only word that rattles through your head as you feel his hand hold you there for a few seconds too long. Your thoughts get fuzzy, and it’s like you forget how to move… even breathe for that matter.

“You good?” comes ringing out from behind you. Painfully aware that his hand is still there, you feel the leather warming your skin beneath your shirt - the slight pressure causing your breath to catch in your throat. He reaches the side of your waist and gives a gentle squeeze. Maker, what is wrong with me?

Shaking your head to try and regain your thoughts, you finally reply. “Yeah,” you clear your throat, “ I’m good,” is all you can manage to squeak out.

A loud coo snaps you out of your trance. Looking down, you can see that your newfound friend has awakened from his long nap. He is standing at Mando’s ankle, little hands wrapped around his calf, hands tugging on his pant leg. He looks up at you and perks his ears to the side while making another loud coo.

“Hey, kiddo,” Mando says as he takes his hand off your back. He swoops down to pick him up. The child lets out a small squeal as he lifts him. He is the cutest kid in the whole galaxy, that’s for certain.

“Come on, let’s go.” Mando’s voice huffs over his shoulder as he turns with the infant in his arms.

“Go? Go where?” you respond, confused.

“I thought you wanted to frolic in the grass or something?” he says as he holds the baby on his hip. “There isn’t much, but I landed us somewhere you could at least see a little.” He continues. “Let’s go for a walk.” The kid lets out a shriek as he reaches for the floor. He must want to go on a walk just as bad as you. Mando sets him back down, and you watch as he waddles away towards his pod.

“You… you landed us here so that I could go outside?” The thought of him once again doing something like this for you makes you melt. He has been incredibly thoughtful to you lately, to the point you have questioned his motives. Maybe his actions have been what is making you have these random thoughts and reactions to him. Nobody has ever done anything like this for you before, so you don’t know how to react. It couldn’t possibly be that you are attracted to him. At least you think .

He continues to stare at you in silence. “Mando, this will be the first time I have ever stepped off the planet of Tatooine. This is… this is…. “ the words just don’t seem to come, “this is a first for me,” you settle on.

“I can make first’s very exciting.” his voice comes out low, and rough through the modulator as he leans his body in towards you. Almost as soon as the words leave his mouth, he clears his throat and takes a step back.

Did he just… Your face flushes bright red as you quickly drop your head to the floor and clear your throat. Maker, what did he just say?

“I umm...I didn’t mean… “ His voice tapers off. He brings his hand up behind his helmet as he rubs the back of his neck. He clears his throat again and takes a few more steps back. Silence fills the hull of the cockpit as you both stand beside each other awkwardly.

“It’s okay… let’s just go,’ you squeak out as you speed past him. His statement had made you a little bit dizzy, and there was a really warm feeling in the pit of your belly. This is not the time for this, focus on your brother. You are not attracted to him… you are not attracted to him… you are not-

“That’s not the right button to get out,” Mando says behind you. Looking up, you notice you are just fumbling around, looking for any way to escape the tension you are feeling in this room. Your hand is hovering over the compact activator. For fucks sake . You turn away, hiding your cheeks from his gaze.

His footsteps echo across the floor as he moves closer to you to open the door. His hand reaches out beside your head and slowly pushes into the button right under your fingers. You continue standing there, watching the gloved fingers press down on the button, the glow bright enough to illuminate the activation of the door release. You didn’t want him to know how badly his statement had affected you, but it was becoming obvious.

His hand lingers there for a few seconds before dropping to his sides. Silence still hanging in the air between the two of you, you hear the ramp unseal from its clasps. The summersaults lurch around your stomach with the lingering anticipation of the lowering ramp. Bright light instantly pours into the room as the outside world starts to open up to you.

You watch in excitement as the tops of some trees outside start to become visible. The light is so bright that you have to squint your eyes when it finally touches your face. The wind is overpowering, whooshing and hissing all around you. It’s a little overwhelming if you’re honest with yourself but the promise of this new discovery has you almost bouncing in place. You step back a little, feeling your back bump right into the front of his chest.

The cool beskar feels smooth against your back, as solid as the man wearing it. A shiver runs through your body when he stands there, unmoving. Your breath comes up short in your throat, waiting for him to say something, but he never does.

Too excited to see the outside world, you don’t move away from him. To be honest, you are a little bit intimidated, and being so close to him makes you feel slightly protected in this unknown place you’re about to step into.

You close your eyes for a moment to moisten your eyes that have become dry from the wind. You listen to everything around you, the grass swaying in the breeze, leaves falling from a nearby tree, some kind of bird singing a tune to his love… It’s magical in the sense that it’s unlike anything you’ve ever experienced. You breathe in the world ahead and open your eyes, bracing yourself for what you are about to see.

The scene before you is absolutely… breathtaking. On instinct, and maybe from a little fear, you reach back and grab Mando’s forearm. Your intentions were to grab a hold of his arm and get his attention, but as soon as your hand made contact with him, a burning sensation in the back of your throat pushes its way past the wall you’d built. Tears begin to well up in your eyes once you look ahead. You keep trying to talk, to just say anything, but the only puff of air that comes out is a slight squeak, so you just squeeze his forearm a little as you hold it there.

You feel another hand reach up to your side and give a gentle squeeze. He holds his hand there, letting you take in the scene before you. The reassurance means more than he will ever know. Here you are, however many lightyears away from home, seeing things for the first time ever, and behind you was this man letting you know it is okay to feel .

It’s almost exactly as you pictured it. It’s so… green. And it’s everywhere, in the trees, on the ground, in every inch of your vision. There are little colorful dots splattered in the palette, different shapes and sizes of plants all over. The sunshine burns through the trees in warm rays. You can hear the sound of something absolutely roaring all around you… what is that?

You feel a slight push on your back nudging you to move forward making you gasp suddenly as you realize your hand is still holding a death grip on his forearm. While his other hand is prompting you to move forward, Mando continues pushing your body down the ramp, prompting you to take your first steps into the greenery.

You stumble over your own feet a little before finding movement in them again. He chuckles quietly to himself behind you, finding amusement in the fact you almost fell right onto your face. Turning around, you give him a mean look.

“Have you forgotten how to walk?” he questions. He gives it a nod, encouraging you to keep moving forward, taking one small step before the next. His hand pushes into your back once again as you continue to give him an ugly stare. Nothing is meant by it, of course, you are only teasing him.

“Come on little bird, time to fly,” he says.

You can’t stop the soft smile that begins to spread across your face as you turn back to look ahead at the world around you. The black visor stays trained on you as you finally find the courage to move your feet. Baby steps, this isn't supposed to be scary.

Taking in a deep breath, you finally move one foot in front of the other, the new leather of your boots making a small squeak with each step. You hadn’t broken the boots in yet, and they were a size too big, so they made you more clumsy than normal.

A squeal pierces through the air as the kid takes off waddling down the ramp. He is going way too fast for his little legs. You watch in horror as he stumbles over the bottom of his robe and tumbles down the rest of the ramp. His little body rolls all the way down into a patch of grass at the bottom of the Crest. Waiting for a cry out, you and Mando freeze. To your surprise, the kid just slowly sets himself upright and looks in your direction.

He had fallen right into some sort of flower and had made the whole thing explode into a thousand tiny pieces that floated away into the wind. A cute little sneeze erupts from his tiny body, causing him to fall back over on his butt, a squeal coming from him as he looks up at you with those big dark eyes.

A giggle escapes your lips as you watch him look at you for help, arms stretched out overhead and fingers grabbing at the air. Letting go of Mando’s forearm, you take off towards him and take a step onto the cold, hard, dirt - feet sinking into the ground slightly as you introduce it to the full weight of your body. Dirt … it feels so much softer than sand. A wave of euphoria washes over your body, causing you to take off jogging. Running a few feet from the Crest, you bring your feet to a jolting halt right in the middle of a patch of flowers.

Careful not to crush a single one of the beautiful plants, you plant your feet into a small patch of dirt right in the thick of them. Red, yellow, green, blue… just every color you can think of scatters across the ground all around you. A sweet smell fills your nostrils as you take a deep inhale.

There is a specific one right beside your boot that catches your attention. Something about it just sticks out above the rest. It is red and yellow in color and has a strange shape to it. It actually looks like multiple flowers piled onto a long stem. This is my favorite flower. It does not matter that you had never seen another, the only thing that mattered was how happy the cute little plant made you feel. You bend over and pluck it gently from the ground. The sweet smell fills your nose as you bring it up to your face. It tickles the bottom of your nostrils, making you let out a jolting sneeze.

Turning around, you want to show Mando how pretty the flower is. Surely, he would think it to be the most beautiful of them all. There he stood, at the bottom of the ramp, just watching you in silence. His right leg was stretched out in front of the other, and he had crossed his arms in amusement. He was slowly shaking his head as he witnessed the scene before him. More than likely, you did look like a maniac right now, but that didn’t matter to you.

“Mando! Look what I found!” You shout as you sprint towards him. Your fist carefully encloses the flower so as not to crush it.

“What is it?” He says flatly. It didn’t seem as though he was anywhere as amused as you were.

Stopping right in front of him, you look down at the delicate plant in your hand.

“I’m not sure… what is it called?” You question as you push the flower up to his helmet. Hopefully, he knew what it was called. Surely he has encountered one of these along with one of his many adventures through the galaxy. He grabs the flower and brings it up to his visor, rolling it around in his gloves a few times to inspect it.

“Looks like a Jebwa Flower, they are native to this planet.” He says softly. He lowers the flower back down for you, inviting you to take it back. The leather on his gloves lightly brushes against your bare hand as you take it back.

“ Jebwa flower…” you test the name out on your tongue. “It is now my favorite flower.” You say as you wiggle your eyebrows.

“It’s the only flower you’ve ever seen. How is it your favorite?” He questions. His helmet turns to the side in a questioning manner.

“It just is, shiny.” You say as you give him a perky smile. He lets out a sigh and starts to shake his head.

“I thought we were going for a walk?” You suddenly remember. “I want to see everything .”

“Fine, let’s go,” he replies. He starts to walk in the direction of the kid, taking the pod with him. The kid squeals as he reaches his little arms into the air. Mando picks him up gently and places him into his pod. The kid looks up at him and lets out a little coo. Mados helmet turns to face you, and jerks in his general direction. That must be your cue to follow him.

Joining him at his side, the two of you start to venture out into the forest beyond the Crest. There is a walking path that you assume leads to the city you saw in the distance. The trail is lined with greenery on each side. The trees provide appropriate shading that keeps you from getting overheated. Everything along the way makes you gawk in awe. It was all so pretty. Mando’s arm had to be sore at this point from how many times you had grabbed it trying to get his attention. Of course, he had probably already seen it all at least one-hundred times if not more.

By the time the two of you had walked for ten minutes or more, you had concluded every single flower you came across was your favorite. Every single time, Mando would shake his head in response to your silly statements. It was unclear which flower was your favorite because everything here seemed to keep surprising you.

You look over at your quiet companion as the both of you continue on the path. He is so… large. Your eyes start at the top of his helmet examining every single curve it takes around his head. I wonder what he looks like under there . He could be as green as the kid for all you know. The fact that you had never seen even an inch of his skin, didn’t stop him from being attractive .

There’s just something about him, something that you cannot quite put your finger on. Something that absolutely radiates off of him. Everything he does, the way he walks, the way he carries himself, his voice… it leaves you with a constant feeling of curiosity.

Scanning your eyes over him, you trail down his broad shoulders, noticing the way the pauldrons sit perfectly over each shoulder. The chest plate resting across the expanse of him… You look down further, noticing his hands… shit … His hands were massive. His fingers alone were probably twice the size of yours. Realizing you were practically undressing him with your eyes, you quickly glance back up to his helmet, hoping he hasn’t caught you looking at him. When you see that his visor is still focused on the path before him, you begin to start thinking again, your mind wandering off in an endless stream of thought.

I wonder what color his hair is… how long is it? What color are his eyes? Are they kind? Are they angry? Haunted? You didn’t have the slightest clue, and you were too afraid to ask. He was probably ridiculously gorgeous under there. What irony, being beautiful and never being able to show it. He probably had soft, delicate skin… maybe some light facial hair. What about his lips? I bet they’re soft… warm to the touch .

You stop yourself quickly, wondering what the hell has gotten into you. Why are you thinking about him like that? It had to be the fact that you hadn’t been laid in such a long time. That is what you settled for. Your brain was just scratching at an inch that hadn’t been in a very long time.

Your thoughts are cut short when you notice Mando has stopped and is examining some sort of fruit in the shrubbery to your left. You see a whole patch of the same fruit to your right and make your way over to it.

The entire fruit was so similar to something you’d eaten before back home, but yet, it was completely different. The outer shell had the softest fuzz surrounding it, tickling your hands when you grasped it. It looked exactly like some of the fruit Mando kept in the Crest so naturally, you’d picked it and decided it would make a great snack for the walk back. What you hadn’t accounted for was the fact that the ones on the Crest were purple and these were blue.

When ripe, the fruit posed no harm and were in fact, delicious. But before they were ripe, they were firm, sour, and contained a toxin that unbeknownst to you, was a powerful aphrodisiac. This posed one of several problems. One, you were currently in no position to be taking such a powerful aphrodisiac. Two, Mando was likely unaware of the full truth to your attraction towards him. And three, it had been a long, long time since you’d gotten laid - so even without it, you didn’t need much encouragement to get your rocks off.

You’d taken one bite and the toxins instantly started to set in, creeping into your veins and finding their way to the deepest parts of your body, making you desperate to eat more. The juice from this magical fruit dripped down your chin as you bit into it over and over again. Creating the illusion that you were starving, you devoured it, despite it tasting sour and unlike the ones on the ship which were sweet in comparison. You scowled before taking another bite and shrugging and continuing munching.

“What are you eating?” Mando yelled at you, swatting the fruit out of your hand.

“Hey! I wasn’t done with that!” you frowned, looking down at the half-eaten core on the ground. You pouted, your bottom lip protruding out, “what gives?”

“You can’t eat that,” he shook his head in frustration, looking up at the sky, “I swear it’s like having two children,” you hear him whisper.

“I am not a child!” you swing back around looking at him, the turn making you dizzy. He reaches out to steady you and you glance up at him, the feelings from before on the ladder in the Crest surfacing again. He really is an incredible man, despite the rough and tough exterior he puts on for everyone else. You notice his shoulders, broad and expanding past your narrow ones, the feeling of them under your hands.

Your face tingles slightly, the effects of your forbidden fruit taking hold quicker than either of you had expected. “Oh-” you giggle, the funny feeling in your chest radiating out towards your limbs.

“Mando, I feel funny,” you laugh, making a slight squealing when he grabs your arm and starts to walk you back towards the Crest. Your laughter grows, turning from the small giggle into a full belly laugh, little snorts and hiccups sneaking out from under your hand clasped over your mouth.

“Yeah, no shit,” he doesn’t bother looking at you but instead, drags your now drunken frame along beside him, sighing audibly through his helmet.

You follow, waving your arms around wildly as the toxin weaves its way through your system. You feel warmth, especially in places you weren’t expecting to feel it. Leaning on his shoulder, you look up and pout your bottom lip out, eyes big and wide as you attempt to plead with him.

“Maaaanndooo,” a slightly more annoying than cute whine comes out of your lips, “am I gonna die?” you giggle, clearly very serious.

He sighs through his frustration with your current state, “no… you will not die from that particular fruit...”

“Soooo... what’s gonna happen,” you ask running your hand up to his arm, your inner inhibitions coming to the surface and taking over. You feel the muscles under the fabric tense with your touch, continuing on the path from the top of his bracer towards his shoulder.

You smile sweetly up at him, a hint of devilish intentions lying beneath the surface as you ask, “Am I gonna die?” Your fingers walk across his chest, moving lower and lower before his hand reaches out and grabs you around the wrist and stops you from moving any lower.

“Maker, I just might…” he whispers, almost quiet enough that you didn’t catch it. You laugh, skipping off ahead of him. You hold your arms out wide and spin circles on the path, letting the drunkenness saturate your veins. You’d been drunk plenty before and this felt no different except for a few small details . For starters, you felt hot. Burning in fact. To the point where you could completely strip naked and that still wouldn’t be enough. And secondly, your nerves seemed to be literally electrified. The way the wind blew over your skin practically brought you close to orgasm. Every hair on your body was standing on end, alert and aware.

“Mandoooo,” your voice carries in a sing-song tone, “I’m hot Mando,” you whine, fanning your cheeks as they flushed with bright pink. A sheen slicks over your skin when you break out in a cool sweat. You shake your body as you walk towards the path, the crest coming into view. Your hips move from side to side as your hands slide down your sides, grabbing the hem of your shirt.

The fabric lifts up and over your head as you peel the shirt from your body and fling it to the side of the path. The breeze brushes against your skin, prickling every fiber in your being. Your breasts tighten and pucker against the cold air making you shiver.

“Mando, I feel so…” you pause and turn, coming face to face with the Mandalorian that had been trailing behind you. His chest armor brushed against your nipples, hardening them into tight peaks. A gasp escapes your lips as your hands find their way up to his chest towards his shoulders, feeling the strength of the beskar under your fingertips.

“I know,” he growls, desperately trying not to look down at your chest. You grab his hand and pull it to your chest, a pleading look pulling across your face. Your tongue darts across your lips as you pant when the leather finally touches your fevered skin.

A gentle “ please ” escapes your lips as you squeeze his hand around your breast. You feel him grasp you gently before a groan comes out from deep in his chest and he takes a firmer hold of you, pulling you in closer. His other hand comes around, gripping your back before moving down to cup one side of your skirt before he lets go, a frustrated groan escaping.

Unable to keep still through the torture, you turn and run up towards the ramp of the crest, the child’s pod glides up the ramp as you waive drunkenly to him as he passes by. Footsteps crunch up behind you as Mando joins you, beeping a few buttons on his wrist to secure him behind a metal door to rest.

“Mesh’la…” he whispers, cupping your neck and pulling your forehead down to his helmet, “I can’t do this when you’re love drunk. It’s just not…” he pauses, searching for the right words, “it’s not right…” he twists his head, pulling away like he’s in pain and when you look down to see him adjusting the large bulge between his legs, you can see why.

“When was the last time he’d been taken care of,” you wonder. The last time he’s experienced the feeling of someone warm beneath him. Was she pretty? Did she take care of him as much as he took care of her? Did he cum? What did he taste like?

“Let me take care of you then,” the words were out before you even realized what you’d said. Your head was fuzzy with toxin and lust, ideas floating around as you push him backward deeper into the crest towards a pile of crates. You force him to sit down on your makeshift cot, his knees buckling as you push him back on the edge...

He whispers your name, hands sliding up your thighs as you stand there, bare in front of him, “but… I -” he was at a loss for words, unsure of which direction to go. Here was this fiery woman ready to take care of him but deep down in his gut, all he wanted was to do the same. There was an element of control you knew he wasn’t fully able to give up.

“Just… watch,” you whisper, hands sliding up your stomach to your breasts as you gently grasp each one. You feel the soft skin under your fingertips and close your eyes, moaning slightly. With each moan you see his legs widening and the bulge between his thighs hardening. You rub your thighs together, feeling the wetness spreading between your legs.

Leaning down, you slowly bunch your skirt up, lick your hand and let it slide up your leg, and slip it between your thighs. You hear him groan at the sight, feeling a new wave of pleasure coming into your belly and spreading throughout your body. Rotating your fingers in circles with your hips, the sensation is driving you wild. Apparently, you’re not the only one, because you open your eyes to see his hand gently stroking over his pants. Grasping the thick fabric and what lies beneath - the sight alone drives you wild.

You turn away, pushing yourself out of your skirt and bending forward to give him a view of your perfectly round ass. The strangled sound that comes from behind you is almost a choking sound, but one of pleasure.

You get down onto your hands and knees, turning around to face him as you start to crawl forward, hair wildly falling around your face and shoulders. The cold floor feels smooth under your palms and knees as you crawl one step at a time towards where the Mandalorian is sitting, legs spread and waiting.

“I can’t - little bird…” he bites out, “careful now…” his voice was low, breaths coming out in shallow as your hands moved up and down his thighs. “Not when you’re like this,” his head rolled back, clearly regretting the words as they came out of his mouth.

“Shhhh,” you whispered, moving your hands up and down his thighs feeling his strong muscles clenching and unclenching under your hands. Your hand slides down to his buttons as you undo them one at a time, “I just want to make you feel good.”

He whispers your name again, his hands sliding to yours to stop you. He just looks at you through his helmet before he moves his arms up your arms until his hands reach your face, leaning forward and cupping your cheeks.

“Are you sure?” he whispers, his thumb gently stroking your cheek.

Your eyes close and nod, hand coming up and touching the cold leather encasing the fingers you’d caught yourself thinking about when you watched him in the cockpit.

When they open, you slide your hands lower towards the center you desperately want. Firmly grasping the outside of his pants, you squeeze, his hips flexing upwards into your palm. His head rolls back and his legs spread wider as you lick your lips again already imagining the taste of him on your tongue. Reaching under the fabric, your hand is met with something warm and firm, the flesh pulsing below your grasp. At this point you can barely stand it, the pressure between your legs has built to an almost unbearable level that you think you’re going to explode as you nearly rip the fabric open and him from his pants.

Your eyes widen in pleasure and surprise at his size. Excitement floods to your core, a trail of evidence proving how soaked you are sliding down your leg already. You wet your mouth before leaning forward and grasping him in your hands. You pump your hand once slowly with a soft grasp, then again firmer before continuing with this motion.

He groans at your touch, your fingers moving softly up and down. You watch the way the skin moves, a clear bead bubbling at the very tip. You can't help yourself, thumb brushing over the top to roll the bead over the pink skin in an effort to tease him, squeezing and pulling in all the right ways. His hips push up slightly into your hand as his head rolls back again against the wall of the Crest, making a loud crack against the metal.

“Fu - fuck,” he groans your name loudly from under his helmet between breaths, “gah -shi… I need, fuck,” he sounds pained, barely in control of himself. This is exactly how you wanted him, exposed, open to you.

“Look at me, Mando,” you whisper, a shiver running over you as the breeze blows into the crest and over your bare breasts. A trail of spit falls from your mouth and between your breasts, getting them slick as you move forward and slide him between them. Lids half-closed, one of your hands in your hair, you move him slightly around between your breasts. The slick moisture you’d spit letting him glide between them with little effort.

A strangled noise comes from deep within him as he reaches up and takes his thumb, sticking it in your mouth. Instantly you know what he wants, taking him in and letting your tongue dart around. Your hand comes down to your breasts and squeezes them together, letting him pump himself in and out.

“ Fuck-” he grits out, “Y-you’re so fucking perf-” he groans when you gently bite down, eyes fixated on him. “I need - fuck, I can’t… do, ungh” his chest is rising and falling in heavy breaths.

“Take me Mando, please,” you beg.

“I can’t… I,” he groans as you pull away, “not like this. I can’t have our first time be like this…”

You look up at him and let one of your hands drift lower towards the center of your legs, “will you fuck my mouth instead?”

He’s silent as he thinks, clearly waging a war inside himself. It’s obvious how badly he wants you. He doesn’t answer in words, but the way he opens his thighs slightly and his throbs in your palm - it’s an answer enough in itself. You lean forward, lifting his shirt to press your lips to his fevered skin. You smile, realizing you’ve never actually seen his skin before.

It’s perfectly tan, despite being covered at all times, with a small covering of hair leading from his stomach to the most gorgeously shaped cock you think you’d ever seen. The kisses turn rougher, more of a sucking - biting. Leaving these small marks where no one else will see them which ignites something in you. Knowing he will have to walk around and collect vicious men with your mark on him.

You pull back, looking at your work to see the dark red marks left behind. A smile spreads over your lips as you lean forward, taking his hard cock in your hand and bringing him close to your lips.

“Talk to me,” you whisper to him, “if you won’t take me as your own, at least let me hear your voice as I…”

He cuts you off, “you’re going to a- actually be the dea...death of me, little bird, ” you can hear the strain in his voice, despite the modulator. The restraint he’s showing is impressive.

He’s been tortured enough, and at this point so had you - the pulsing in between your legs was so fierce you were on the edge of a complete full-body orgasm. Eyes looking up towards him, you lean in, opening your lips to let the tip of his cock rest on your tongue. As soon as the pink head rests on your tongue, he flinches forward, hissing as a hand snakes through your hair. A long “ fuuuck, ” hisses out from his helmet.

You open your jaw, letting him slip in a few inches before you slide back out and swirl your tongue around the tip. Tasting the salt and skin, you moan with him in your mouth.

“Y- your mouth…” he gasps, “fu-ck it’s s..so good…” he breathes.

Slowly, your head begins bobbing up and down, dragging the flat of your tongue along the underside of him, making him pulse harder into your mouth. Your hand slips between your legs and you slowly slip between your folds, circling your tight bud of nerves. His grip on your hair tightens, moving your head slightly so he can watch both at the same time.

“Keep going, little b-bird… kee… fuc-fu-fuck… f-fuckfuckfuck,” his hips start rolling up into you as his control snaps. Your jaw feels tight around him, his cock completely filling your mouth with inches to go.

Angling your head slightly, you allow your throat to open to let him slip deeper into your mouth. You feel the head of him pushing against the back of your throat, your head still in his hand grips tighter around your hair and pulls you into him. Gagging slightly, he groans, before letting go and giving you a moment to breathe.

“Maker, you’re su-such a good girl ,” he pants, “ca-can you do that… again - do it… again for me?”

You wipe the wet off your face with the back of your hand and nod, opening your mouth again to let him guide himself into your mouth. You close your eyes and open your jaw, letting him in as deep as you can before feeling that burning at the back of your throat. You groan around him, making him jump, “ju-fuck… just like ngh,” he swears.

Letting you go, you continue on with your attack, bobbing your head while your jaw is practically on fire around him. The pain radiating down your throat is turning to pleasure as you rub yourself frantically, praying to the maker for release. Edging the two of you closer, you can feel your fingers slipping easier and easier between your folds.

“I-ng gon-a c-m” you say around his cock, blurry eyes fixated on the marks you left on him earlier. Just as your orgasm hits, he feels his own hitting and in the attempt to pull away from you, you open your mouth wider, sliding him into your throat and letting him spray himself deep into your mouth. You can taste him sliding down your throat, the saltness settling in your belly. Both of you ride through this wave of ecstasy together, the stars exploding from you and ending with him.

Spent, exhausted, and suddenly coming down from the toxins, you shiver and realize that the ramp is completely down to the crest. Anyone could’ve potentially walked by and have seen what you just did to him. Noticing your shift, Mando stuffs himself back in his pants, unclips his cape, and wraps it gently around your shoulders.

“You’re ok…” is all he says before he gets up and walks to the fresher. As soon as the door closes, you scramble to gather your clothes, pulling them on one at a time. You didn’t even notice him emerge from behind you with a wet piece of fabric.

“Here,” he hands it at you, waiting for you to take it, “you know… to uh, clean up.” he shuffles on his feet from one side to the other. Ok so maybe he was just as uncomfortable as you were. But he was just as into this as you were, wasn’t he? Did he not want this?

Fuck… what the fuck did we just do...

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x reader smut #this is the way #Mando x reader #Mando x you #reader insert #star wars #pedro pascal #pascal-istheway #the mandalorian fanfic #mando fanfic #mando x reader fanfic #mando x fem!reader

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pascal-istheway · 3 years

Text

Kinktober Day 2

Kink: Sex work [18+]

Warning: NSFW

Pairing: Javier Pena X Fem!Reader

Zoe’s notes: n/a

Word count: 1.9k

KINKTOBER 2021 MASTERLIST

He was a regular, would call twice a week on a slow week, sometimes even more if it had been a bad week. The hunt for Escobar was ruthless and tiring, and what better way for him to get a little steam out by some good old-fashioned cardio.

There was something about today though, something in his voice that seemed off. When you’d answered the phone, it was immediately noticeable. There was a grit to his words, an underlying hurt and anger. Not that was much different than some of the times he called you, but today it was just - different.

He called you late that night, saying he needed to see you and to come to his apartment. Your job often required you to go to the client, and where Javi was one of your favorites, you felt the need to get a little extra dressed up for him, opting for a short black dress that cut off mid-thigh and showed plenty of skin.

The beauty of your job in sex work was that you got to dress up and feel absolutely beautiful every night, you got to bring every man’s fantasy to life and make their dreams come true, even if it was just for a night. The freedom to pleasure clients like Javi, to give them a night of unimaginable pleasure.

When you arrived at his door, he stood there in the doorway disheveled, hair a mess and shirtless with a drink in his hand. He barely made time for introductions, opening the door wide and allowing you to make your way into his small government issued apartment. It looked the same as usual, maybe slightly messier but so was his state so could you really blame him.

You’d heard about Carrillo through some of your coworkers. Maria and Vanessa heard it from some of their regulars, who had heard it from an officer that worked closely with him, and so on and so forth. When you’d heard about it, of course, your first thoughts were of your weekly regular and how he would be handling the news. Javier was close enough with Carrillo, at least as close as he could potentially get to someone without actually using the words”friends”.

The drink emptied as he tipped his head back to down the rest of the glass and placing the now empty glass on the table. He didn’t waste any time letting you get settled before he grabbed your arm and led you over to the couch, stripping you out of the dress you’d selected especially for him. You stood there, completely nude as his eyes rake over your skin, the drunken glare stumbling over your features.

“Javi what ar-”

“Shh… just let me - just let me look at you,” his words are slightly slurred.

You nod, letting him work through whatever he had to in that moment. His hand reached out and slowly touched your skin, drawing circles over your flesh under the pad of his fingertips, his thumb pressing slightly over your bare nipple making you shiver. Your lips parted at the warmth radiating from him as he leaned in and pressed his lips against yours.

The kiss was hungry and eager, desperation pulsing from Javi through to you. You open your lips, letting his tongue dive in to explore your mouth as his hands roamed over your breasts, pushing and grabbing at your softness. Your hands start to wander, the feeling of his bare skin beneath yours intoxicating you.

He moans on his breath, pulling you in tighter to him as he snakes a trail of kisses down your neck, teeth biting and lips sucking as he goes. You moan loudly, running your fingers through his hair and down his chest as you head towards the edge of his jeans and slip one hand inside to palm him, eliciting a moan from deep in his chest.

His anger and determination came through in each kiss as they turned rougher - more aggressive. Your fingers glide over the buttons on his jeans, unclasping them before sliding them down and letting his cock spring free from the fabric. You were always impressed with the sheer size of the man, knowing he would fill and stretch you better than any of your other clients. You looked forward to these meetings, desperately wanting to feel him inside you.

You drop to your knees, hands grabbing around his thick cock and stroking him slowly, eyes looking up into his as the drunk glare looks down at you, hand reaching out to stroke your hair. Your tongue darts out to lick your lips before you take him in your mouth. And you’re not shy about it, knowing Javi needs this roughness today.

You can feel him pulsating in your mouth as you push him deep into your throat, taking him as far as you possibly can. When your nose is being tickled by the small hairs, you let out a deep moan from your throat, pleasuring him as your tongue moves over the underside of him. His hands are deep in your hair, wrapped around your tendrils as he pulls your head back, your tongue lapping along the underside of his cock in one long stroke as he pulls out.

His thighs stiffen under your palms as he pushes into you again, the feeling of the soft tip hitting the back of your throat.

“Fu-fuck… yes, just like that,” Javi grunts out as he pulls out again and looks down at you.

“Yeah, baby? You like it when I do that?” a smile breaks over your face, knowing you’re giving him pleasure.

“Fuck, just a little deeper baby,” he whispers as he sticks himself into your mouth again, hips moving to push himself deeper into your throat. You gag slightly, but you know he loves it dirty like that.

Eventually, he lifts you from under the arms, pulling you up into him and he kisses you, hard. Your mouth feeling swollen from the kiss already. He lifts you up off the floor, your legs instantly wrapping around his waist as he carries you to the couch.

You flop down when he tosses you, flipping you over and yanking your legs so you’re hanging over the side of the couch arm. He roughly grabs your waist with one hand, his other sliding between your thighs into your core. His fingers play between your slick folds, a moan escaping as they brush over your sensitive nub. He takes the head of his throbbing cock and wipes it between your legs, smearing the evidence of your arousal all over him before pushing himself into your center.

The burn that came from him filling you to the brim was familiar and fucking incredible. There was nothing else like it in the world, and you couldn’t help the moan that escaped your lips as he completely fills you to the brim. It stretches you in ways no one else can, his hips plunging hard as he sets off with a rapid pace.

Your entire body is jerking forward at his assault, his cock is doing not so much fucking but rather, destroying, as he takes complete control of your senses. A cry escapes you as you reach back to touch him, only to have Javi grab your arms and pin them behind you, his body holding you in place as he smashes into you.

Skin on skin, your cunt is gushing, a suction sound forming as his assault continues. You can feel the orgasm building deep in your stomach. Your thighs begin to shake as you cry Javi’s name out.

“Don’t talk, do-don’t fuck… god damn it,” Javi lifts your chest up grabbing your breasts from behind, and growls in your ear sending you over the edge.

“Javi!! Fuck… fucking christ!” you scream as your orgasm rips through you, your walls squeezing the shit out of Javi’s cock.

“That’s right baby, just like that,” his sips slowed, letting you ride out the orgasm. He releases your hands and snakes his hand up around your neck, the feeling absolutely killing you.

Your cunt pulsates again around him as he slips in and out, watching himself slide through your juices. The speed picks up and having hardly recovered from your earth-shattering orgasm, you feel yourself start to vibrate below.

“Ja-Javi… wait, baby,” you beg, knowing he wasn’t one to overuse you in that way. But tonight, you could tell he needs it, he needs to just use you. To get out his frustrations, the disappointment, the anger, the sadness, everything… he needed this.

He pulls out and spins you around, slamming himself back into you while reclaiming your mouth again. The groans pick up, Javi starting to grunt like an animal into the crook of your neck as his teeth sink down into that band between your neck and shoulder. His hand wraps around your back and the other into your hair as your legs wrap around him, balancing on the arm of the couch.

You scrape your nails down his back, causing him to hiss and pull back, eyes bearing into yours. His hand around your back pulls back as he lets out a swat to your ass, making you moan his name even louder. The sounds between you are like music to your ears, a symphony of flesh and sweat between you. The moaning is the choir, your skin together is the orchestra, and the world around you is the audience.

You can feel him stretch you, massaging your walls from within as he pounds away, a breathy fuckfuckfuckfuck coming with each stroke. He’s getting closer and closer, you can feel it in his breath as he takes your mouth again.

“Cum for me baby,” you coax in his ear, whispering how much you love the way he fucks you and how perfect he is for you.

“Fuck, yes, take it,” he groans, his orgasm filling you to perfection. You let out a moan as his hand takes your breast, filling his palm perfectly.

“God, Javi, your cock is perfect,” you moan, taking his ear between your teeth.

He moves, standing to put his clothes back on and motions to you to put your own back on as well. As he lights a cigarette between his lips, tossing the lighter on the table next to him, he lets out a large sigh, the weight and tiredness from the day washing over him.

“There’s money on the table… for you I mean,” he whispers.

“Not today, Javi… today was,” you pause, unsure how to finish the sentence, “I’ll catch you next time,” you sigh.

“Just take it,” Javi picked up the folded bills and handed them to you, “you’re a… this is your job.”

He needed this, you knew that. And you weren’t going to charge a man in need like that. Any other day, sure you might have taken the money, but today wasn’t one of those days.

“Today, we can just be two people in need of a little pleasure, can’t we?” you smile, running your hand over his naked shoulder before taking his cigarette from his lips and taking a puff of it.

He sigs, flopping down on the couch and you press a kiss to his lips before turning for the door, calling over your shoulder, “until next week, mi amor.”

#javier peña x reader #javier peña #narcos fanfiction #kinktober2021 #fictober #javier pena x reader #pascal-istheway #kinktober day 2

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pascal-istheway · 3 years

Text

Campfire & Smoke: Chapter 2 - The Reunion

Fandom: Triple Frontier

Rating: Not Rated

Characters/Relationships: Francisco “Catfish” Morales / Reader

Chapters: 2/?

Chapter Word Count: 3.3k

tags: angst, enemies to lovers, NSFW

read here on ao3

MASTERLIST

Find the official Spotify playlist here

Dinner was almost painful. Trying to hold a conversation with anyone while Frankie sat there, his eyes staring directly into the side of your face while you tried your best to ignore his blatant disregard for your comfortability was nearly impossible. Sure, several glasses of wine made it tolerable, but barely. Mostly because you had to sit there, per Santiago’s request, and be nice to one another.

Benny had brought up his fights, talking about some big one he has to start prepping for as soon as he gets back from the trip with his trainer. He went on to explain how his last fight with this guy was bad, he’d been backed into a metaphorical corner, “since there are no real corners in the hexagon” as he claimed, and had been nearly slaughtered. But this time, he was prepping a full two weeks early and he was going to be ready.

As Benny and the guys talked, laughed, and joked about the upcoming fight, you tossed back your glass of wine and immediately reached for the bottle in front of you, ignoring any comments from your dining partner to your left. Frankie leaned in close and brought his voice down low over the laughter around you, “what’s that, your fourth glass?” he quipped as you poured the red wine into your glass, nearly finishing off the bottle as the glass filled to the brim.

You rolled your eyes, “what’s it to you? You’ve had like what, five beers since you sat down?”

He smirked, knowing damn well that he was toying with you, but the wine was running rampant through your veins, mixing with the anger and resulting in the worst taste you’d had in your mouth in seven years.

“Four, so it looks like we are going drink for drink. Just like old times, hmm?”

The lines near the corners of his eyes crinkled as he smirked at the joke at your expense. He was tugging at old wounds, pushing that knife in just a little deeper and by the looks of it, he’s enjoying it while he does. You’d tried so hard not to think about it, tried to push it down like the sour taste he’d managed to put in your mouth that you were desperately and unsuccessfully trying to wash away with the wine.

———

Seven years earlier

“Truth or dare,” you ask, taking a sip of your cup.

Frankie stared into his cup and said, “truth.”

“Booo you’re no fun!” you laughed playfully, “fine, fine. Truth it is…” you drunkenly trail off, trying to think of a question as you tap your finger to your chin. “Oh! I got one. When did you have your first kiss?” you giggle into your cup.

“Oh god, my first kiss was terrible. I was maybe thirteen? Fourteen? Annie Blackwell. God, I wanted to kiss her so badly and it was just so awful...” he trailed off, eyes slightly glazed over.

You stare at him intently, waiting for him to finish but he never does, “well go on! Now I need to know the full story!”

Frankie laughed and took a sip from his drink, “that’s a story for another day,” he paused, “ your turn, truth or dare?”

You smile sheepishly into your cup and drop your voice, “dare…”

His eyes slide from his cup, surprised at my answer, but other than his eyes, his face barely gives anything away but you can almost see the hint of the challenge he’s about to give you.

“Dare, hmm?”

“Make it a good one, will ya?” you smile flirtatiously scooting slightly closer.

Frankie sips his drink, leaning back against the couch as he thinks of his dare. You see the moment it clicks in his head, the hesitation as he plays with the idea of it. You watch as his eyes flick over to you and the smile that plays at his lips makes your stomach flutter. You watch the corner of his mouth pull up and he says it softly, almost in a way that makes your heart stutter a beat, “I dare you to kiss me.”

Your eyes met and you glance down at the outline of his lips, your own tongue reaching out to swipe over your own as you taste the drops of alcohol on your lips. His mouth curled up on the corner ever so slightly, a smirk playing out across his perfectly shaped lips. It’s what you’d wanted to do for so long. To press your own lips against his in a simple yet devastating kiss…

———

Your eyes snap back to the present, still feeling the stare from his gaze over the side of your face as your lips practically tingle from the memory. You wanted to hate him, fuck you were practically seething with hate as it poured out of you from every pore. You wanted to keep your distance, to hold your heart in your hands so no one would ever touch it again, but you see the lopsided grin and curly hair poking out from underneath that damn cap and you can feel something crack inside your chest.

A snarky grin slides over your lips as you pull your mind back to what’s in front of you. The glass feels cool, the dark wine slipping past your lips as you continue to ignore him and pretend to be intrigued by Benny’s ramblings. That’s when you feel it, the electricity on your thigh as Frankie brushed his fingers over you to grab your attention but instead of turning towards him, you only shrug away like you’d been burned with a hot iron.

“Don’t touch me,” you practically growl at him over your glass.

He laughs deep in his chest, “if you didn’t ignore me since the moment I walked in here, I wouldn’t have to try to get your attention,” he whispered.

“That sounds like a you problem, Frankie. You been off your game old man?” your smirk grows.

“Game? Is that what you think this is?” he pokes you again smiling, making you scoot away and look at him with a sourness to your face.

You pull your voice to a harsh whisper, “Frankie, fucking cut the shit. I’m not dealing with your bullshit tonight,” your eyes cut into him.

His mouth quirks up, “you’re cute when you’re mad but honey, red isn’t a good color on you.”

Your eyes roll so hard that you’re sure you saw your brain, “Frankie,” you turn and face him, leaning in close so you wouldn’t have to raise your voice, “Santi told me to come up this week, to behave and play nice, but he never said I had to speak with you,” you set your glass down and lean in closer, “so I will say this once and only once. Get your fingers off me and do not touch me again .”

Your eyes throw daggers into him, a threat hiding behind them which Frankie seemed to pick up on. He leans back in his chair, his body slouching in the chair as he stares at you. You watch his body, the way he shrugs his shoulders before he mumbles, “so touchy” with a smirk.

You grumbled and took a large sip of your wine, thinking to yourself about the feeling of his fingers on your thigh. You shouldn’t be thinking about them, begging your brain not to, but you couldn’t help it. There was a moment when his fingertips grazed over your bare thighs that a zap of electricity soaked deep into your bones.

Frankie had turned back to the guys, lost in the conversation when you stand and clear your plate, deciding to go start a fire in the pit out in the back of the house. You grab a blanket and a bottle of wine and head to the backyard to the fire pit. It had been a while since anyone had lit a fire back here based on the cobwebs that covered the stacked wood against the porch. But despite the webs that were there layering the wood, you still picked out the few pieces that would burn the best and set them into the fire pit.

You grabbed the matches in the grill and went to the pit, lit a match, and tossed it on the logs, watching as the kindling beneath it took to the flame. The flames smoldered as the dry bark lit up, the colors dancing in your eyes as you watch more and more take to the flame. It dances over your skin, the warmth caressing you as the fire builds and builds. The blanket lay on the chair, the same chair you had found yourself in seven years ago playing some stupid drinking game with the guys. You crack the twist-off cap on the wine and sit, tucking your feet up under you and cover yourself with the blanket before taking a long swig straight from the bottle.

Before you know it, everyone has joined you by the fire, all laughing and drinking as you sip out of your bottle, drunkenly laughing along with the stories the guys are telling as your mind wanders. You think about the man sitting at your side that’s casually sipping his beer and watching you from the corner of his eyes.

But you ignore him, or at least you try. Staring out into the fire and watching the flames dance is nothing compared to the feeling of his eyes on your skin making your own body come alive like the fire in front of you.

Slowly but surely, the men start to turn in, each saying their goodnights with a kiss on the head or a squeeze of your shoulders. They all leave until it’s just you and Frankie left. It’s an uncomfortable silence, the scene from dinner playing over and over in your head. In your gut, you know you snapped at him and could’ve handled it better. You were a grown person with control over your own emotions for the most part.

You thought you could prepare yourself for this week, that you could just ignore him, ignore the way he treated you all those years ago, ignore the incident as you loved to call it. You’d hardened your heart over the years, took your emotions, especially the one’s involving Frankie, and shoved them into a jar where no one would find them. You refused to watch the moments your heart broke all those years ago over and over again like some sick and twisted movie. How foolish were you thinking that you could ignore them once you got within ten feet of him?

There was just something about Frankie egging you on all night. The little looks, the comments, the jabs in the leg. It was torture. Torture because burried back in the depths of your brain were these memories that you gripped onto late into the night. They were the things you so desperately wanted to keep close to you, to remember how good things were back then. But they were clouded. Overshadowed by this massive pain that you couldn’t ignore. So you chose to hate him instead and you did it well. So well that you cut him almost completely out of your life.

But here he was, sitting next to you with the orange glow of the fire dancing and playing of the shadows in his tired face and oh, how badly you wanted to reach out and touch the soft curls around his cheeks. The drunkenness dissolving your hatred towards him and replacing it with need. A need to be loved by this man again. No, you would not fall back into that trap again. You wouldn’t be fooled by someone telling you they love you only to have your heart broken by the very same person days later.

His eyes pull away from the fire and meet yours and you swear that crack you felt at dinner in your chest just broke wide open. This was a mistake. Santi asking you to settle your differences and come to enjoy the holiday was a fucking mistake. You can feel the walls crumbling, just from the drunken look in his eyes.

“How has work been? You didn’t talk much at dinner,” he asks.

You stay silent, desperately trying to ignore his question. Seconds go by, dragging out this uncomfortable silence.

He lets out a sigh, “I wish you would just talk to me. It doesn’t even have to be about anything in particular, I just...” Frankie’s voice cuts through the silence as he drinks the remains of his beer.

“I don’t have anything to say,” you blink slowly, eyes heavy with exhaustion and alcohol.

He laughs, “you used to be the one that wouldn’t stop talking, and now look at you. You can’t say more than two sentences to me.”

“What do you want me to say to you?” you look at him, eyes full of hurt. “You want me to laugh and pretend that I’m ok with you being here? You want me to erase what you did and just go back to the way things were?” you glare at him, “well too bad Frankie. Actions have consequences and it seems like you didn’t give a shit who you hurt by yours.”

Shit. You hadn’t meant to flip on him, but it was just so hard not to. The hurt you’d been carrying for all those years just spewed out, all the pain and anger overflowing that jar you kept a lid so tightly on.

“I…” his lips part and he tries to speak, barely a whisper coming out, “why do you hate me so much?” he asks quietly.

You stare at him and then back to the flames, feeling them heat your cheeks as the intoxication slips through your head, “I don’t know… I…” you pause.

He sighs, “you can’t even look at me anymore. What happened to us? We used to be-” his voice is so soft, so tired. “We used to be friends.”

“I don’t know, Frankie. I just,” you sigh and stare up at the stars above you, a small tear forming in your eyes that you hastily blink away, “we were ok as friends and things just got so,” you stop and think before he finishes your sentence.

“Complicated?”

You nod, “yeah… complicated. I just, I don’t have the capacity to be friendly with you. I can’t let you in like that again.”

He sits there and thinks before responding, “it’s been seven years,” his hand reaches for yours, and for a moment, you let him sit there and hold it before blinking back the water blurring your vision and pull your hand from his.

“Frankie I,” you look at him and see the curtain of alcohol on his face, “I just can’t.”

You turn to stand, taking a wobbling step as you wrap the blanket around your shoulders and look at him.

“I can’t let you in again Frankie. You destroyed me. I can’t do that to myself again,” and this time, you’re crying. Letting the tears flow as you turn your back and head to bed.

———

Seven years earlier

It was past midnight when you stumble from your bedroom to the kitchen to grab water. The smile that tugged over your face as you recounted the evening with Frankie. He had been a perfect gentleman. A dream come true really. How many years had you spent yearning for this man that you thought viewed you as a little sister when in fact, he liked you. More than that, he loved you!

The moment he whispered it to you seemed like a daydream. But there you were together, your legs tangled as you laid in the grass curled in a blanket watching the stars. He had leaned in and stroked a strand of hair from your face, eyes searching everywhere around your face when he leaned in and kissed you.

It was a simple kiss, nothing overly needy or heavy but just a soft touch of your lips together. In the kiss, however, was emotion - it was being poured into the kiss as your hands wrapped into each others hair, tugging and pulling to bring you closer together. The moment couldn’t get any better, that was until he whispered it against your lips. It was so quiet you thought you must’ve mistaken him but then he pulled back and said it again.

“I love you,” his eyes stared into your soul, searching for love in return.

“Frankie… I-” you pause.

“Don’t say it back. I don’t want you to say it if you don’t mean it but I just need you to know that I love you. Because I really do. I love you so fucking much it hurts,” he kissed you again, this time more fiercely.

“I love you too,” you pull back, hands tangled in his hair but this time it’s your turn to search his eyes, to show him you love him more than anything.

He smiles, wrapping his arm around your waist as he rolls you to your back, lips finding more skin beneath your chin. You feel him planting kisses and small bites down your neck, towards your collarbone as one hand kneads your breast through your thin shirt, his fingers pebbling your nipple to a stiff peak before he pulls at your shirt and takes you in his mouth.

You arch your back into him, letting out a wild moan before he stops and comes back to your mouth, “shh, you’ll wake them up.”

You laugh before saying, “Frankie I don’t give a fuck, I need you.”

His mouth finds yours again and he kisses you with a starved hunger. Clothing is removed, bodies laying bare to each other as he takes you, there in the grass while you're covered by a blanket of stars. You make love in the most primal and beautiful way, feeling him move together with you. Feeling the stretch of him as he takes you higher and higher. It's incredible, nearly everything you thought it would be. It doesn't take long for you as you climb towards that climax. You both hike up a mountain and throw yourselves off it into the abyss, plummeting back down to earth as he pours himself and all his love inside you.

The next day you woke in his bed, but alone. The sheets wrapped around your legs as you smiled lazily and threw your arm out to search for Frankie. Your legs ached and a smile pulled at your face as you remembered the feeling of him deep inside you, again and again. The light shined through the curtains and you could hear the guys downstairs laughing letting you know that you were the last to rise. They were all early risers anyways, military habits die hard. When you rolled on your side and dug through the clothes on the floor for your phone, everything changed in an instant.

Originally, when you saw his name brightly lit on the screen, you had smiled, thinking it was a "good morning beautiful" text, or something of the sort. But when your eyes flipped down and you saw what it said, you felt your entire world spinning. God what a fool you were, to sit in his bed surrounded by the smell of sex and Frankie as you stared down at your phone, tears welling in your eyes. It wasn't any better when you did finally dress and head downstairs, only to have Frankie's meet yours once, and then to never look at you again the entire trip.

It was right then and there, the moment you vowed that you were leaving and never coming back.

#francisco 'catfish' morales #francisco 'catfish' morales x reader #triple frontier #frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #pedro pascal characters #ao3 #pascal-istheway

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pascal-istheway · 3 years

Text

Deep Water - Chapter 1

Read it here on ao3!

Fandom: Triple Frontier

Warnings: Some Violence - Implied Non-Con

Relationships: Francisco "Catfish" Morales/Reader, Santiago "Pope" Garcia/Reader

Characters: Francisco “Catfish” Morales, Santiago “Pope” Garcia, Triple Frontier Ensemble

Tags: Slow Burn, Smut, Fluff, Angst, We are basically torturing Frankie for this, I’m apologizing in advance

Word Count: 3130

MASTERLIST

Two Years Ago - Columbia

The last call anyone had heard from you was four days ago. You’d been in Columbia on a humanitarian mission with a local group, something about teaching today’s youth or whatever, Santiago hadn’t really listened to much if he’d been really honest. He just wanted to make sure his baby sister was safe and with people that could look out for her.

You had assured him on the call that you were fine, you’d brought the knife you were allowed to carry with you, but had to leave the gun he insisted he buy for you back in the states to which he explained how that defeated the purpose of owning the gun. You just rolled your eyes at him, knowing how overprotective your brother was. Santi was always on you for being safe, regardless if it was in Columbia or back home in your apartment in a somewhat sketchy neighborhood.

But as you bounced in the back of a windowless van, hands bound and eyes covered, no clue where you or your crew were being taken, you suddenly wished very much that you’d had that gun.

Five years ago - You

“Load up! Let’s go!” Santi smacked the side of the truck as he yelled out to the apartment for you, boards and cooler loaded up. “Come on! We’re wasting daylight here and the guys are already out there!” he waited a few more seconds before hollering your name again.

“I’m coming! Jesus, hold your fuckin horses, I was trying to find my hat…” you ran out to the truck, opening the old creaky door to his rusted ford and sliding in next to your brother on the bench seat. You casually toss your hat in the back seat before buckling your seatbelt. The beauty of living in California was all the access the best surfing the states had to offer. Your brother and his best friends from his unit were all meeting up for an early morning at the local spot and you decided to tag along, hoping to see the boys again.

You’d known some of these guys your whole life, thankful that they all got to serve together. Santiago would’ve been ok on his own, but he and Frankie had been close since they were kids. Knowing that they were out there in the shit together gave you the comfort that they were having their backs covered.

Santiago drives into the public parking lot, all of the guys already there except for one, Tom, who you had yet to meet. You hop out, saying your good mornings to most of them while keeping your eyes out for Frankie. You knew he wouldn’t miss an opportunity to be here but yet, you didn’t see him amongst the guys.

Not wanting to seem desperate, you just helped unload, carrying things to the spot on the beach for the guys to start getting their gear on and ready. The sun had barely started to come up, making the sky a brilliant color of orange and pink. The most beautiful view in California.

“Oh shit! I forgot my hat in the truck! I’ll be right back,” you run back to the truck, feet struggling in the sand.

When you reach the truck, you fling the door open and bend over, searching for your hat that’s fallen on the floor in the back seat.

“Careful, you don’t want to get stuck like that…” you hear him behind you, teasing you as you snatch your hat and spring back up.

“Frankie! You made it!” you squeal, throwing your arms around him. He pulls you in, arms snaking around your back as he tucks his nose into your hair.

“Wouldn’t miss it,” he says softly into your ear before pulling away, “last real surf of the year” he smiles, the corners of his smile not quite reaching his eyes.

There’s a sadness in his voice, one anyone else would miss if they didn’t know him. But you do know Frankie. You know him better than almost anyone. You know what his voice sounds like during all the highs and lows, what it sounds like when he cried after his mom died, what it sounds like when he told you he got accepted into pilots training, and what it sounded like when he was drunk and whispered he loved you at 3 am.

“What’s wrong?” you pull back, holding yourself at arm’s length from him.

His mouth opens, the words right at the edge of his lips, but then they close again before he shakes his head, “nothing… let’s just enjoy this. Ok?”

So you do… you surf and swim and enjoy the morning with the guys. The warmth of the sun caresses your skin, soaking into your bones to warm you from the ocean. There’s a moment when you’re out on the water, the waves reflecting like glass and you let yourself enjoy the way it casts its light off Frankie’s long hair, bringing out the specks of gold and grey in his messy sea-soaked hair.

You love this - being out here with all of them. Your brother is the only real family either of you have. Your parents died when you were younger and when you were old enough to take care of yourself, Santiago enlisted and gained a new family. Brothers in arms.

You try not to think about the worry in his voice from that morning, doubt creeping in as the day went on. This was a rare occasion that all the guys could get together like this and usually when they did, it was before a big mission out of the country. Your heart sinks, realizing what this could possibly mean. Santi wouldn’t have told you, knowing that he wouldn’t have wanted to ruin the day. But Frankie? He told you everything. What held him back from telling you something as important as this?

“Here, you look like you could use this,” Frankie dumps himself down beside you in the sand, handing you a cold beer. You glance up at him, grateful for the drink, and bring the cold bottle to your lips, taking a long pull before swallowing.

“Thanks, it’s perfect,” you smile, leaning back on one hand and bracing the bottle on your thigh.

“Did you have fun today?” Frankie asked, taking a drink from his own bottle.

“Yeah, it really was the perfect day. Perfect weather too. Got some great waves out there,” you looked out to the water crashing up on the shore and watched as the sun splattered a watercolor of incredible colors throughout the sky.

“I think Santi is setting up the bonfire if you’re planning on stickin’ around,” he nudged your shoulder with his own.

“Yeah of course… he was my ride anyways,” you take another sip, enjoying the familiar feeling the hops gave you on an empty stomach. Knowing where that leads though, you look at Frankie and tell him “we should probably get some food in us soon.”

“I had a feeling you’d be hungry,” he reached behind him into a small cooler and pulled out two sandwiches. Chicken for himself and peanut butter and jelly with a side of Doritos, just like you liked. “Made ‘em special, just for us,” he joked.

A smile crept over your lips as you grabbed the sandwich baggie, pushing your beer in the sand as you ripped the bags open. He watched in disgust as you opened your sandwich and plop the Doritos on the PB&J, closing it and taking a massive bite.

“Dmon’t knmock mit ummil yoo twy it” you say around your food, knowing damn well he didn’t understand a single thing you said.

“Sure thing sweetheart,” he nodded, brows furrowed with amusement as he took his own bite.

You guys laugh and talk around your food and drinks, the effects of everything making you warm and at peace. Frankie is one of those people that you feel so at home with, not that your brother isn’t one of those, but Santi isn’t someone that you’d call at 2 am to come and get you when you’ve had too much to drink. He would just scold you the whole way home while Frankie - well Frankie would let you rest your head in his lap and would rub your head the entire way home, soft fingers tucking your hair behind your ear as you drift off to sleep from the lull of the engine.

And the only reason you know this is because he’s done it on several occasions for you. In college, shit even in high school. He protected you from Santiago when he found out you had your first boyfriend, although he did give you an interrogation of his own privately afterward. He was there for you through your first heartbreak. He taught you how to shoot your first gun… and your second.

When he turned to you, the haze of the drunkenness between the two of you, and blurted out that they were leaving again, despite being under the impression that they wouldn’t ever have to go again being so close to the end of their contracts, you were of course heartbroken. This was someone that was so much more to you than your brother’s best friend. He had become such a pertinent part of your life. You hadn’t mentally prepared yourself for that news.

You looked back over your shoulder at Santiago, Will, Ben, and Tom, laughing and talking around the fire while you and Frankie sat off to the side. The casualness between them all as they joked between each other, not fearing one last deployment. Your heart squeezed for them. They had each other, bound together by something so strong, something you’d never fully understand.

“Take a walk with me?” his voice pulled you from your thoughts and you see Frankie next to you, hand stretched down to help you up.

“Sure,” you take it, dusting the sand off yourself and grabbing another beer for the walk.

You walk until you can barely see the fire in the distance, the night becoming so dark all you can see is each other at your sides under the blanket of stars.

He whispers your name, taking your hand and pulling you to a stop, “I can’t leave this time without saying anything… I have to…” his words get caught in his throat.

You know what he wants to say, the words he needs to say because you’ve been feeling them for as long as you can remember, “Frankie…” his name comes out as a whisper.

You’re inches from each other, breath mingling together between you as he leans in, his eyes searching for the permission that he didn’t need to ask for. He already owned you, heart and soul, he just didn’t know it yet. This man would always own you, no matter what he did, no matter where he went.

You close the space, your lips gently brushing against his. Softly at first, but as his hands come up to frame your face, the passion that ignites behind him explodes. His mouth parts, yours following his lead as you allow him to explore your mouth. God this man knows how to kiss. It’s incredible, unlike anything you could’ve ever dreamt. Your hands move to his neck, pulling him in closer as his tangle in your hair.

“God, you’re so perfect…” he whispers against your lips. His mouth moves down your jaw, kissing and nipping its way down your throat. Your fingers find their way in his hair, playing with the soft curls at the base of his neck. A moan escapes your lips as his teeth graze your skin softly.

“Wait,” he pulls back, attempting to catch his breath, “I want to do this right. Not on the beach like some cheap date,” he half laughs, looking down at his tented pants and groaning, clearly regretting stopping.

“We don’t have to stop…” you suggest.

“No, I don’t want it to be like this for our first…” he pauses, “I want it to be,” his cheeks almost, blush? “I want it to be right… to be perfect.”

The sincerity in his voice carries to his eyes and you can tell he means it. He wants to love you right, the way you deserve. Not in the dirt or in the sand, but in a soft bed with fresh sheets and plush pillows. He wants to be able to wrap you in blankets after and hold you until the morning sun comes through the curtains and shines down on your freshly fucked skin. He wants to wake up next to you and see your hair splayed against his pillows.

The thought makes you smile, and you nod, knowing this is the start of something absolutely incredible. Something you never thought possible…

Columbia - Frankie

“God I fucking hate the goddamn jungle,” Benny slapped a mosquito on his neck, wiping away the blood on his hand on his shirt, “Fuckin’ gross.”

“Would you shut the fuck up Benny and keep your eye on your spot?” Ironhead said over his com, “this is supposed to be recon, not a fuckin’ vacation.”

Pope rolled his eyes at them, anxious to get eyes on Lorea, but more importantly, anxious to get eyes on you. He had told the guys exactly what they needed them to know, which was almost nothing about why they were actually in Colombia. Specifically leaving out the very important detail that you were the reason why he had gathered up the troops, paid them each $17,000 out of his own personal checking account, and practically begged them to come down under false pretenses of the Agency needing them for a recce mission on Lorea.

He didn’t even need to beg them, they all had packed their bags willingly and flown over the border into Columbia to gather intel on Lorea. Pope had shown them around the area and talked up a big game about how the narcos were causing all these problems and Lorea needed to be dealt with.

Technically, the recon wasn’t a complete lie. He had been down here for over three years, running himself in circles around the cops and narcos on Lorea’s payroll trying to find a bullshit way to get to him. He’d tried everything and at the end of the day, everything isn’t enough when it comes to this guy. He had his hand in every single nook of this god-forsaken country.

He had a girl on the inside, someone who ran money for Lorea and had offered to give up the location in exchange for her brother’s safe return from jail. Admittedly, she may not have given him this information if he had not been sleeping with Pope, but no one could blame her. He’d had it with this fucking country and at this point, there were no more rules to break. Sleeping with an informant was the least of his worries, especially now that he knew that you were somewhere in the house he was staking out.

Tom turned to Pope, “so you sleeping with her?” He took a piece of gum and shoved it in his mouth, offering one to Pope.

Santiago turned to him and scoffed, “what the fuck is that supposed to mean?” he grabbed the gum and unwrapped it, shoving it in his mouth, “ew man, what the fuck is this shit?”

Tom laughed, “Cola flavored.”

“You owe me a piece of Hubba Bubba dude,” he said, spitting the gum out along with a huge wad of spit. He took his canteen and swished his mouth out as Tom laughed at him.

Back in the day on missions, they had this unspoken rule, someone always has to bring gum. It was like a good luck charm. And Tom, being the leader, always brought the flavor he wanted, never the one that everyone else liked. Fucking asshole. You don’t fuck with tradition…

“I’m at the gate,” Benny’s voice cuts through their ears.

“How’s it looking over there,” Pope responds, holding his binoculars up to take a look from his vantage point.

“Well, looks like things were done about 82% right… They got all the toys out here but these cameras aren’t even aimed at the weakest breach point…” Benny reports.

“Your girlfriend making her normal money drop?” Tom asks

Santiago glares at him, “she ain’t my girlfriend.”

“Informant, whatever…”

“Yeah, she said she’s prepared to record the inside of the house. We need proof of Lorea and the money,” Pope sighs.

Frankie’s voice cuts in, “Hey, uh Pope, I got kids over here. Does he have kids living in here with him? Because that is not what I signed up for.”

“The family is not the problem fish, they are the answer,” Pope says. “Lorea’s very devout… sends his entire crew with his family every Sunday morning. Leaves him, and three guards home alone… every. Sunday.”

Miller pipes up, “why would he do that?”

“Well, he’s worried about someone taking his kids. That and he never leaves his money. Also I don’t think he believes anyone actually has the balls to come out here in the middle of the fuckin’ jungle and rob him,” to this, everyone laughs.

“Look alive guys, we got incoming,” Miller said over the comlink as a van approached.

“Shit Pope, you didn’t tell me your girlfriend was beautiful,” Benny says over the com.

“I fuckin’ knew it,” Tom turns to Pope and shakes his head.

“Fuck off.”

They watch her pull through the front gate, van bouncing through the mud and muck. Gunshots echo out in the distance and Ironhead comes over the com, ��I got an execution going down over here guys.”

“Courtyard?” Pope asked.

“Yep… looks like mostly men and two women judging on the builds, can’t see any faces though,” Ironhead responds.

“Fuck…” Pope whispers, “uh, yeah that’s his spot,” his voice tightened.

Screams echoed throughout the coms from Ironhead’s mic, “shit guys, he’s taking some girl into the house… I -” his voice cuts out, clearly unable to watch anymore.

The screams could be heard even without the coms, Pope knowing exactly who it belonged to. He’d heard every sound you could make, screams, crying, laughter. He was your brother and helped raise you, he may have needed confirmation you were in there but in his gut, he already knew.

No one else would be able to see the way his heart rate had quickened, hoping that you weren’t in that group of people, now lying dead on the court. As the last gunshots echoed out throughout the jungle, and your screaming stopped, Pope did something he hadn’t done in a very long time… he prayed.

#Frankie Morales #francisco catfish morales #triple frontier #santiago pope garcia #slow burn #smut #fluff #angst #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pascal-istheway

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