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cosmictheo · 1 year

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𝐏𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐋 | 𝐣𝐨𝐞𝐥 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫

(gif credits to @jdmorganz)

— summary: during a stormy night at bill and frank's house, joel teaches you how to hold your gun, and this opens up the perfect opportunity for the two of you to finally release all the feelings of longing and lust you've been repressed for each other over the past few weeks. —pairing: joel miller x female!reader —word count: 3.8k —warnings: just the reader and joel being horny and a complete slut for each other, some implied sexual scenes, age gap (reader is in her 20s), horny teaching on how to wield a gun, bill being the grumpy dad, frank being the nice dad<3

joel's playlist i made for inspo

writer’s note: english is not my mother tongue, so please forgive me if there is a grammatical error. hope you like it!

He came walking into your life as if he already owned it. With that dark flannel, tight jeans around his thick thighs and a face as grumpy as Bill's, and that was saying too much. He looked like a fucking Greek god with his tanned face fucking glowing in the sunlight. It was his fifth visit in your shared house with Bill and Frank, and you wanted him just as much as the first time.

Frank had noticed how you had watched him the first time you had welcomed him into your home, eyes lingering long seconds to analyze his strong jaw, brown eyes, he was sure you would be taking him to your room at any moment, if the man would let you, something that was obviously effective, as he looked at you with the same goofy expression on his face, eyes glowing curious with desire. He shared a knowing look with his partner sitting next to him as they both analyzed the way you were taking longer than expected to pour more wine into Joel's already empty glass, his eyes watching you intently.

“Thank you, darlin'.” The pet name rolling throguh his tongue, in that tone of voice so low and husky that made you crack a smile, caramel eyes tracing a discreet path across the wide cleavage of your summer dress, trailing up your collarbones and neck, until they met yours, already set upon him, of course.

That interaction had been in your wettest dreams. You rarely dreamed, but Joel of course had to be the one to change that habit of yours.

And you could have sworn the reaction hadn't been much different for Joel's side, for you doubted he was dumb enough not to fall for the little games you'd been playing the last few weeks. No. He was a smart man. And he knew exactly what he was doing when he looked at you with that dark, longing gaze and brushed his fingers against yours 'accidentally'.

You were helpless, spinning around him― and he was ruthless, giving you just the right reasons to feel that way.

You pushed any over-lustful and delusional thoughts from your mind, taking a long sip of your wine, savoring the delicious bittersweet taste on your tongue and with it, trying to refocus again on the conversation taking place at the table.

Dinner had been indoors this time, as dark, angry clouds carpeted the usually bluish sky, their presence threatening to unleash a great storm at any moment now. And because of this, Frank was beginning to notice himself getting more worried by the hour.

“You really should stay in tonight, at least until the storm passes.” He proposed, setting his fork down beside his empty plate, friendly and sweet look traveling to the two guests you had at home.

Bill, sitting next to him, grunted, totally objecting against his partner's proposition, of course. “Frank.”

Joel finished drinking his own wine and then shared a glance with Tess sitting next to him, conversing telepathically, you guessed. Sometimes you were genuinely curious about the kind of relationship the two of them had, though you weren't sure if it could even be considered as such, since they only treated each other as friends, very close friends. Maybe they fucked on occasionally. Only they knew that, but the mere thought made your stomach twist.

Tess shook her head, offering you all one of her swift smiles. “We wouldn't want to intrude—”

You were quick to interrupt her, eyes wandering from Joel to her, fingers fiddling with the wine glass between them. Your face lit up as you offered her a reassuring smile.

“Bullshit. We won't sleep today knowing you guys are out there with that storm raging overhead.” Frank nodded, agreeing with you, giving a discreet nudge to Bill's side, who had just grumbled when he heard you were on Frank's side, obviously. “'Mid the rain it's hard to hear much more than your own footsteps.”

“She's right.” Joel muttered, looking at you for a few long seconds before turning to his companion, long, dark lashes smoothing his cheekbones as he blinked.

You drank the last sip of wine contained in the wine glass in your hand as you watched him intently, trying to decipher what was going through his head, analyzing the expression on his handsome face.

“Plus, it's going to get dark soon and that doesn't make the situation any better.” Frank added, trying to persuade them, always proving to have that huge heart he had. His eyebrows raised slightly as he noticed the defeated expression on Bill, him knowing too that he was right, as much as they didn't like the guests, they were Frank's friends, or the closest thing to it.

“Alright.” Tess finally replied, smiling sheepishly. “Thanks, guys.”

“No problem, honey.” Frank shook his hand gently, giving no further interest to the subject. And then he stood up, smiling sweetly at both guests. “I'll show you the guest rooms. You can choose the one you like the most, we have plenty of space.”

Tess followed him down the hall, thanking him again for allowing them to stay, making Frank laugh.

Bill stood up as well, grabbing his plate and Joel was quick to copy his action, but he dismissed him. “Leave it to me. (Y/N) will show you the way to your room.”

He gave you a knowing, warning look before turning his back on you and heading for the kitchen, you rolled your eyes at that.

Joel nodded his head softly, standing awkwardly as he watched Bill make his way towards the kitchen with a couple of dirty dishes in his hands. No more seconds had to pass before his eyes returned to you, still sitting in your seat, and already looking up at him. His gaze softened against yours and you felt the honey color of his orbs draw you to them like a never-ending pool, a caramel sea.

“I suppose you'll want to take a bath first, right?” You questioned looking up at him, batting your eyelashes, you noticed how the curve of his lips curved into a small smile, noticing your pretty big eyes focusing only on him. “I don't even want to think about since when you haven't washed your old ass.”

Joel let out a chuckle now, chest expanding against the fabric of his flannel and eyes softening so beautifully that you had the sudden urge to kiss every single mark on his skin. “Honestly, I don't want to think about that either.”

You offered him a sweet smile. “I can lend you some clothes if you want.”

“That would be great.” He nodded his head, returning the smile this time, a real smile. “Thank you, darlin'.”

And there was the pet name again. Goddamn.

His hands were hiding in the pockets of his jeans, a hint that let you knew that he was either nervous or uncomfortable, you weren't quite sure what it was, but your presence definitely caused a reaction in him.

“Follow me, cowboy.” You motioned with your head as you passed him, heading towards the stairs.

He heeded you instantly, steps hurrying to keep up with you, eyes scanning your body from behind, pausing for a few moments at the way your tight pants molded to the curve of your hips and ass, moving up your waist. He had never been jealous of an article of clothing until that moment.

He even imagined his hands running over your body, molding your waist the way your pants did throughout the shower he took, once you handed him a pair of sweatpants and a baggy t-shirt you wore to bed from time to time. The thoughts and fantasies of all the positions he wanted you in his mind made his shower go fast, too fast. He couldn't get you out of his head, Joel felt like he would go crazy at any moment.

And when he finally turned off the hot water and dried off, and got dressed in the clothes you had lent him, he had to close his eyes for a few moments, letting himself fall into the exquisite sweet scent that they were impregnated with. Your scent.

And the fact that he would be sleeping just on the other side of your bedroom wall had his head spinning.

Before passing in front of your room, he took a sigh, shaking his head lightly, in an attempt to push all the filthy thoughts away. He felt like a fucking pervert.

A smile rose to his lips as he peeked through the open door of your room, leaning against the threshold.

“Ain't that a pretty sight.” He grumbled in an amused tone, his forearm rising against the wood, eyes analyzing you as you fiddled with your small pistol, baggy polo shirt brushing a little lower than your bare thighs, loose hair falling down your shoulders.

A feeling of shame rose in his chest, feeling that he had intruded too much, for this was your territory, your personal space and he had simply barged in against the boundaries, a girl who was at least 20 years younger than him, but, it was also true that really, at that point, he wasn't thinking straight, he didn't see clearly anymore, he only saw you, the prettiest girl he had seen in decades, maybe in his whole life.

Your eyes fell on him on your door, allowing you a couple of seconds to admire how good he looked in the gray sweatpants, of course you had passed them to him on purpose and dear God, what a good view. His dark hair was still damp and a couple of gray locks were falling down his forehead, and due to the width of the shirt, you could see a tantalizing glimpse of his chest.

“My pajamas look better on you than on me, damn. That Strokes shirt? It totally fits you.” You commented in a joking tone, now taking the gun in your right hand and lowering it.

Joel rolled his eyes at your playful voice, already used to your jokes, which were usually directed at him in the last few weeks, having left your former spotlight on Bill behind, fortunately for him.

“Have you ever shot that thing in your life, kid?” A single eyebrow rose on his brow, him taking on that playful tone now, full of pure shared complicity, just the two of you.

“Not really.” You replied simply, eyeing the gun in your hand still and maintaining an innocent voice.

Joel hesitated for a few moments, but asked the question anyway. “Then how come you were out there all those months by yourself?”

His gaze was filled with curiosity and confusion, crossing his arms now. You thought he had done it completely on purpose and also that he had caught you ogling his flexing biceps, but he remained silent, waiting for your answer.

You just smiled. “I have my ways.”

And he knew what that meant, for any fool would give his life protecting you and defending you from any goddamned thing that threatened your well being if you claimed to stay by their side. And fools, there were many, as many as there used to be. He considered himself a fool too, in that case.

“Hm…” he hummed, not wanting to push you any further with questions about the past, "let me see your shooting stance then, smartass."

Curiosity rose on your pretty face at his words, but you heeded his command, grabbing the gun with both of your hands now and positioning your feet and legs as you assumed was a shooting stance, of course purposely misplacing it.

“You plan to shoot somethin' standin' up like that?” Joel questioned, analyzing you disapprovingly, but, his brown eyes sparkled with amusement. “Bill would really dislike to see you right now.”

You snorted, rolling your eyes. “Bill dislikes looking at me at any time.”

“What are you talkin' about? The man adores you.” And who wouldn't? He wanted to have added. Joel sighed. “Stay right there.” Uncrossing his arms and making his way over to you, he finally entered your room, once and for all.

Your breath hitched as he positioned himself behind you, so close you could feel the heat radiating from his body, the beating of his heart in his chest and his warm, minty breath against your neck.

His hands went around your body while with one leg he gently spread yours as far apart as necessary. His fingers brushed against the skin of your arms as they lengthened, hands covering yours completely around the weapon now.

“Left squeezes down on the right, like this.” He guided you as he gave your hands a gentle squeeze under his, positioning them correctly. His breath brushed against the back of your neck as he spoke in a low tone so thick you felt it's vibrations throughout your body, your heart beginning to pound. “Take your finger off the trigger or you may cause a problem. You only put it on the trigger when you go to shoot, okay?”

“Okay.” Your lips quivered as did your voice, speaking almost as faintly as a tiny mouse.

“You need to bend over a little for me now, sweetheart.” He whispered against your ear, his southern accent making your heart skip a beat. “Arms outstretched, hands straight— that's it.” You remained silent, completely speechless, for the only thing that could ever come out of your throat would be a fucking whimper. Your body would melt at any moment against his.

Seeing that you maintained the correct position of your hands and arms, his hands now moved down to your waist, positioning your hips as they were meant to be.

“Your hips have to hold your whole body, keep them steady— firm, your feet too.” His little finger lightly brushed against the bare skin of your thigh as he moved your hips, making you exhale air through your teeth. “That's it, good girl.”

Under his palms he could feel the straps of your panties through the thin fabric of your shirt and the and the thrill and heat of it all rushed through his body, right down towards his crotch.

“Mhm… you're not half bad.” He opined taking in your entire posture now, lifting his head slightly over your shoulder, his hands venturing slowly up your waist, uncovering and molding every curve they traversed. His breath collided against your neck, giving you goosebumps. “You're not bad at all, kid.”

You swallowed saliva and dared to finally turn your head, meeting his face inches from yours. His nose had always struck you as one of the most attractive things about him, and seeing it from that angle it really was something else. You wondered what it would feel like to sit on it. Fucking hell.

Your eyes moved from his down his face, until they stopped on his lips, the mere image made you lick yours, half-opening them, almost able to taste them on your own.

He half-opened his mouth and you didn't have to look at his eyes to know he was hesitant, unsure, but, despite all the thousand emotions he felt, he stayed right there, hands clasping your waist, pulling you as close to his body as possible. Waiting for your next move. Probably thinking you'd slap him right there for being an old fucking creep, maybe you'd shoot him too.

But, what you actually did was lean closer to him, twisting your head in a not so comfortable and natural way, but which was certainly worth it once you joined your lips with his.

And it didn't take Joel more than a second to fall into what was really going on and adapt to it with pleasure, following your lips and closing his eyes with delight. His hands tightened around your waist, turning you in his arms so he could kiss you better, twisting his head slightly, nose brushing against yours in the movement.

Without even opening your eyes, you dropped the gun ;―completely empty, by the way― and your hands went up his chest, wrapping around his neck as you made him walk backwards, his back meeting the door, which at the force, closed until his back was pressed against it, with you secured firmly between his arms.

A breathy little moan climbed up your throat as Joel nibbled on your lower lip gently, breaking the kiss and allowing you both to catch your breaths. And he can swear that that little sound he got out of your mouth is how they receive him in heaven.

His eyes remained closed for a few more moments, still savoring your exquisite taste in his mouth.

One of his hands rested on your face, cradling your cheek, thumb gently caressing your cheekbone. His eyes, though dilated, were as soft as ever once he opened them again.

Joel sighed against your mouth, trying to catch his breath, calming all the lust that threatened to take over his whole body. “We really shouldn't.”

But the truth was that he did want to, he did want you, with all his body and soul, every part of him was screaming out pleas to just let himself be carried away by you, to let himself fall into your hands.

You looked up at him with big eyes, confused by his words and totally astonished by what had just happened, but shook your head lightly, your fingers toying with the hair at the nape of his neck, feeling it still wet.

“You…” your voice sounded hesitant, face falling with sadness, perhaps disappointment well, “you don't want me?”

Joel felt his chest tighten as he saw fear peek through the beautiful look in your eyes and quickly rushed to reassure you. He would have laughed at how truly silly your words were, given the situation and how you practically had him melted between your hands, by just one damn kiss and your closeness.

“No, baby— of course I want you.” His fingers soothingly caressed your face, so delicately over your soft skin as if you were a doll, made of porcelain. You twisted your head, still confused by his sudden rejection, prompting him to explain further. “Of course I want you, you're the prettiest thing my eyes have ever seen, for God's sake. But we shouldn't… I couldn't do this to you.”

“Joel,” his name came so deliciously out of your mouth that he closed his eyes to hear it echo inside his head, trying to hold himself back, “I've waited so fucking long for this moment and now that I have it, I won't waste it just because of your old man antics.”

“It's not about antics,” he explained after twisting his head, raising his eyebrows at your words and usual sassy behavior, brown eyes opening, threatening to bathe you in their glistening caramel color. “I'm trying to make things right here.”

“If you're worried about the age difference, you're wrong, Joel.” Your fingers sank into his hair as you spoke to him in a soft tone, noting how his gaze had fallen back to your lips for a few moments. “There is no right and wrong in this world anymore, so... why should we held back?”

“You want this too?” He had the nerve to ask, voice low and raspy, tilting his head slightly so he could look at you. “You want me?”

If there was one thing Joel disliked and well, hated, it was intimacy, sharing his vulnerable side, letting his weaknesses show. He'd barely been lucky to do that with Tess, because they'd known each other for years. But with you… everything was different. He couldn't just fuck you and never talk to you again, he couldn't do that, because you simply weren't that to him. You were so much more than that.

“I'd let you fuck me all goddamn night, Joel Miller.” You answered him instantly and a hint of a smile rose at the corner of his lips at your words and the assurance you put into them. “So yeah, I've never in my damn life wanted anything so badly as I want you.”

“All night, huh?” He questioned in an amused tone, eyes analyzing every detail of your face, both hands were now on your face, fingers tracing nonexistent lines and patterns on your skin. “I don't know if my body can take that much back pain. My young days are far behind me now.”

“Then just lie back and let me ride you.”

Those were the words he just needed to hear before fucking avalanching against you, joining his lips with yours in a now, more passionate and exciting kiss. His hands cradled your jaw, keeping you close to him, right where he wanted to have you.

Your hands moved down from his neck to the edges of your shirt and Joel helped you pull it off your body, lustful eyes, eager to see your body without fabrics getting in the way.

“What about Bill and Frank? Tomorrow I want to leave this house without a bullet fired between my eyes.”

You smiled teasingly against his lips. “Relax, they already know. Smart-asses, remember?”

He was aware of the relationship you had with Bill and Frank, especially the former, for he had been the one who had found you in the first place, merciful enough to let you live and let you into his home. And well, who could say no to those big eyes and innocent, pretty face? Even Bill hadn't been able to fight against it.

“Right.” He answered breathlessly, not really having the slightest idea of what you had just said, as he was so intently concentrated on contemplating the magnificence of your body, completely enthralled, blurred mind and all. Suddenly, the sweatpants were too tight in his crotch area.

He was just taking the time he deserved to observe you in front of him, leaning up to leave kisses on your jaw, down your neck, past your shoulders. His hands moved up your waist, stopping under your breasts, his gaze moving up from them to you again, eyes as sweet as honey, but so dilated, darkened by lust and desire, eager for more of you.

In an instant you deduced what he was trying to say from his gaze and before he could even formulate any words, you stroked his cheek, thumb tracing his lower lip affectionately. “Just touch me Joel, please. I'm all yours.”

“Goddamn it.”

― — ―

Morning had arrived and the sun was shining high in the sky as if one of the most chaotic storms of the last few months had not passed just the night before.

“Good morning.” You greeted Bill, Frank and Tess sitting at the table, your hand clutching your coffee cup.

Joel was already seated as well and under Bill's frowning gaze, he gave you a short look, barely smiling in your direction as he took a sip of his own coffee, black and bitter of course.

“Mornin'.” You were greeted back by him, perching the cup on the side of his toast and giving you an affectionate look. You smiled back at him.

Tess looked at her partner with a raised eyebrow, noting the shared complicity in your interaction, as did Bill and Frank, of course, who shared a single knowing glance, Frank smiling and Bill with his lips as pursed as his brow.

You cleared your throat, taking in your hand one of the cookies you had baked with Bill the day before, trying to ignore the awkward silence that had suddenly formed.

“So…” Frank began to speak, tone playful, but face with feigned concern, “it really was rowdy last night, a lot of noise out there.”

Your eyes widened at his words, second meaning all too obvious to everyone. Joel took a long sip of his coffee once more, lowering his eyes to the surface of the table after running into Bill's watchful, almost killing gaze.

“Really loud storm.” Tess agreed with him, nodding her head slowly and bringing her cup to her mouth. Of course she would never stop teasing Joel about this.

“I hate the storm.” Bill mumbled with a displeased face.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #the last of us hbo #tlou #tlou x reader #the last of us x reader #hbo the last of us #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #joel miller x you #joel my beloved #joel miller imagine #joel miller fic #joel miller tlou #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader

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thefrogdalorian · 2 months

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Din Djarin + Chapter 11: The Heiress

#din djarin #pedro pascal #the mandalorian #star wars #swedit #frog lady #MY BELOVED #okay but lets talk about the SHOULDR TO WAIST RATIO #I MIGHT BE BARKING AND GROLWING ON MY KNESS FORTHING AT THE MOURHTH RN #PLEASE GIVE ME A CRUMB OF ATTENTION DIN DJARIN JSUT ONE SECOND #anyway feeling calm ffeeling good feeling normal about him #i nee D HIM #my gifs #my edits #din edits

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firsttimewriter92 · 1 year

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My haven could be you

Joel Miller x f!reader Part 2, Part 3

Summary: Tommy´s brother arrives in Jackson and turnes your hormones upside down. Unbeknownst to you, your mere presence makes Joel absolutely feral.

Word count: 4.235

Warnings: angst, small panick attack, pining, feelings, hidden desire, dirty talk, masturbation (male and female), pining, cursing, MINORS DNI!!!

Authors note: I was playing around with this idea of Joel going nuts because he doesn´t know what to do with his feelings and his desires. I hope I made it as juicy as I imagined it to be :P

The moment you arrived in Jackson the weight that´d pulled your shoulders down and forward lifted almost instantly. You couldn’t believe it was actually real. A functioning society, running water, supplies, regular hot meals. As long as everyone pulled their weight, this place was paradise. Even if someone didn’t have particular skills, there was always something to help with. So after resting and healing your weather-beaten and all in all almost broken body, the usual knot in your stomach returned with force and you went to find Tommy and Maria. You found them having a bowl of stew in the big community barn.

“I want to help” you said with a tight voice and looked directly at them. They shared a questioning look before Tommy answered. “We appreciate your vigor,___. It´s just…are you sure you´re up for it yet? How´s your foot?” he nodded towards your right shoe. Your lips formed a tight line. You knew your foot wasn’t fully healed yet. “It´s fine” you said lowly, still holding Tommy´s eyes. He sighed and his lips twitched slightly upwards. “It´s fine, huh?” he leaned forward onto his elbows. “When the Doc took a look at it when you arrived I distinctly remember him saying you needed to take it slow for at least two weeks. And it´s been, what? Four days?” Why was he smirking? The knot in your stomach began to burn uncomfortably.

“Tommy…please,” you started to plead, you patience waring thinner and thinner. “I can´t sit around anymore without doing anything to be helpful. I can look after the horses, I can help cook or harvest the gardens. I can….I can´t keep eating your food, taking your medication and taking up space without…without at least paying something back!” You didn’t even realise when the panting began. Swallowing big gulps of air, your pulse ran amok underneath your skin.

“Whoa, hey. Hold on” Tommy quickly stood by your side and helped your shaking body onto a chair. Without realizing it you began to pick at your knuckles again. Angry red marks appearing yet again. “___, breath. It´s okey. We´ll find something for you, don’t worry. Come on, breath. That´s it.” It was a small attack but still it had an effect. Tommy looked worriedly at you while Maria got up to get a glass of water. His hand lay itself calmly and warm onto your neck while you tried to control your breathing again. When Maria handed you the glass of water you tried to smile at her briefly and mumbled a quiet sorry. She shook her head vehemently and patted your head.

“I didn’t mean to be condescending,___. Really” Tommy said gently. You shook your head quickly. “That´s not…I didn’t think you were. I just…I need to pull my weight” you whispered almost desperately. Tommy nodded and smiled at you. “Okey. Let´s get you something to eat and then we´ll talk, alright? We´ll find you something, sweetheart.”

You gave a grateful smile when he returned with a steaming bowl and sat it in front of you. Having held back on how much you ate in the last couple of days, the delicious smell that invaded your nose made you dig in immediately, burning your whole mouth in the process. Hissing slightly you gave Tommy and Maria a sheepish look as they grinned.

“You know” Tommy said slowly while you eyes took him in. His eyes looked at you fondly. “You remind me of someone. He´s just as hardheaded, stubborn and eager to help as you.” His fond smile turned slightly bitter. “At least he used to be.” You raised your eyebrows in question. “My brother” Tommy explained with a sigh. “Haven´t seen him in ages but…you two have a lot in common.” Swallowing your mouthful of stew you gave him a smirk. “Seems like a reasonable character, your brother.” Tommy threw his head back and laughed throatily. “Yeah” he mused and looked at you amused.

“Yeah, you two would get along great.”

________________________________________________________

One year. One beautiful, blissful year in Jackson and you were your old self again. Sure, some of the worries that lingered in the back of your head would never really disappear but the knot in your stomach, the panic…it had been months since the last time you felt either. You were happy. The people of Jackson helped each other out wherever they could. Monty helped you renovate your kitchen and made sure your stove was working. In return you helped out at the school for three days so his wife could have some time off. Lauren fixed all your ripped clothes and even knitted you some sweaters for the winter. And again in return you helped her with making different kinds of pickles and jerky. That´s how it worked and you loved it. Community. No one needed to be alone.

Tommy and Maria made sure you had a comfortable little flat right above the bakery. They even gave you a small patch of land on which you grew several different kinds of herbs and flowers. Not just for cooking purposes but also some that were helpful with small medical issues. You had a good life. It was warm in winter, in summer there was running water and a small lake.

On one particular nasty winter day you were just on your way to the big kitchen in the community barn to help out when a small commotion caught your attention. The patrol was back but there were two more people riding through the gates. Your eyes caught onto a young girl with brown hair and a stoic expression. Her head however snapped from left to right when she took Jackson in for the first time. You smiled. You knew how she felt exactly. The other person was a man. Slightly greying brown hair and a patchy beard. His dark eyes moved quickly over the gathering crowd as the horses halted and the men and women got off. When the mans eyes twitched in your direction they zeroed in on you for longer than a few seconds. They looked surprised and confused.

He was handsome. Very handsome in fact and you could feel your cheeks heat up but you tried quickly to make it the biting colds fault. It seemed like several minutes that he held your gaze. Unwavering and confusing. He was definitely older than you but you couldn’t help but notice his beautiful features and big frame. Attraction. You felt immediate attraction towards him and your heart began to pound in your chest like it hadn’t done in years. Something searing began to crawl into his expressive eyes when he slowly tore his gaze from you.

Cold. When his eyes left you, you felt cold again instantly and shivered for several reasons all at once. How strange. And then to your shock and delight, the mysterious, gorgeous stranger got off his horse with a shout of Tommy´s name. No way, you thought. It´s his brother. The one Tommy had told you about several times and whos stories that he told you made you giggle or outright snort with laughter. Joel.

As you saw the two bothers embrace in happiness and relieve you couldn’t help but smile as well, happy for your friend.

And then you saw it. Joy made itself onto Joel´s face. It was like the sun was breaking through heavy clouds in early spring. Bringing with it a form of hope for better weather, warmer days, prosperity and abundance. He smiled and you immediately felt your knees weaken when the laugh lines around his eyes appeared. He huffed out a laugh and then pulled his brother back into his arms, still grinning.

An unfamiliar sensation spread through your body when you saw Joel like this. You´d seen him for the first time just two minutes before and yet his smile seemed like the most precious thing in this broken world. It warmed your toes and fingertips, made your heart go ballistic and your brain felt like it was vibrating in your skull. You knew you were staring at him but you couldn’t help it even if you wanted to.

“He doesn’t always smile like that, you know.” Screeching you jumped half a meter to the side and looked confusedly over to the young girl that had crept up on you. She was grinning from ear to ear and wiggled her eyebrows. “Huh?” you said lamely. She rolled her eyes but was still smirking. “You were staring at him like you´ve never seen a man before” she giggled. “Pretty pathetic.”

You raised your eyebrows at her choice of words. “First of all: Rude!” you pointed at her. “At least give me your name before you call me pathetic.” She looked to the ground and kicked a frozen piece of mud away. “Ellie” she said and looked at you again sheepishly. You smiled slightly. “Ellie” you repeated. “Second of all” you dared to look over to Joel and Tommy quickly. Tommy was talking to his brother animatedly but his brothers eyes were trained on the two of you. Heat reached your face again when you whipped your head around and continued. “I wasn’t staring. Just…looking.”

Ellie snorted sarcastically. “Aha. Yea, sure. Hey, Joel!” A little panicked sound made its way up your throat when Ellie raised her arms and gestured wildly towards the two men, beckoning them over. Tommy caught your eyes and pulled Joel with him to meet you. A huge shit eating grin on his lips.

When the two of them were standing right in front of you, you saw that Joel had only a couple of inches on you. His expression was still curious but a little careful as well. He turned his head towards Ellie and raised his eyebrow in question. Oh boy…

“Joel, look. I already met someone. Please, meet…uhm…” Ellie began to chuckle. “Can you believe it? She didn’t give me her name yet” her head turned towards you and with a smug expression she continued. “How rude.” Your mouth dropped open and all you could think was little shithead. Though in the next moment you realized that your thoughts were anything but hostile towards the quick mouthed teenager. It was impressive, really. She winked at you and took several steps back and moved towards Tommy so Joel´s attention was now fully on you.

Your eyes met again and with an embarrassed chuckle you extended your hand. “I´m ___. You must be Joel. Tommy´s told be a lot about you.” He shook your gloved hand with his own and again raised his eyebrow making your stomach twist with excitement. “Has he now?” he rumbled. His voice deep and smooth reminded you of honey. His eyes twitched towards his brother for a second but returned quickly to look back into yours. A slither of mischief making his dark irises glitter. “Only good things I hope?” His mouth twitched a little and you were about to melt on the spot. “I´m just goin´ to say yes for now” you said with a grin. Joels eyes squinted as if he tried not to smile.

A few feet away, Ellie and Tommy stood side by side, observing the two of you. “Wow” Ellie said and wrinkled her nose is mock disgust. “That´s actually way too cheesy for my taste. Jesus Christ.” Tommy too was staring at the scene in front of him wondering when the last time was he saw that expression on his brothers face. “Yeah,” he said slowly. “What happened to him?” Ellie shrugged. “The fuck if I know, man. Never seen him acting like that. They should get a room.” Tommy looked at the teenager. “Let´s not jump to conclusions. Maybe it´s just a glitch in the matrix.” Ellie looked at Tommy as if he´d just turned into a unicorn. “A glitch in the what now?” Tommy sighed and shook his head. His gaze returned to his brother and you, his friend, watching as the two of you held a small conversation without realising that none of you had let go of the others hand yet.

____________________________________________________________

Weeks flew by incredibly fast. Tommy had given Ellie and Joel one of the bigger houses and you had a feeling that at least Ellie was growing more and more comfortable in Jackson. She found some friends that didn’t mind her swearing and actually saw it for what it was, she helped out at the stables and always had a smile or a wink for you whenever you passed her in the streets. Joel however seemed to have some difficulty to settle down. Relax. He would go out on patrols whenever he could and mostly kept to himself. He did however have at least one meal a day at the barn. Most of the time dinner. He was usually accompanied by Tommy or Ellie, ate his meal, maybe had some whisky and then got back to his house. Your eyes would wander after him more times than one and you couldn’t help but wish for him to relax a bit more, enjoy the safety Jackson provided. You wanted to know him more.

It was almost laughable how quickly you had developed a massive crush on the handsome brunette. You felt yourself sigh from time to time when your eyes were once again trained on his neck, the curls on his head, his greying beard or his wide shoulders. There was an unusual attraction to him. Something that went further than mere physical reactions to a pretty face. It was quite strange. Especially because you knew exactly what it was. You had crushes before but they almost always only ended in physical outbursts for one or maybe several nights. And then there was either a parting of ways, a fleeting of attraction or even death. None of them devastated you though.

The way your gaze would flit to the gates whenever he was out and the constant nerves that pulsed through your body until you saw him return made you second guess yourself this time around though. You worried about him. You cared about how he felt. You even caught yourself whishing you could be the reason he would be happier in Jackson. Wishful thinking. After your initial meeting and some mundane conversations here and there, he´d taken no other actions to get to know you. His answers were one worded, his small smiles didn’t reach his eyes and you hadn’t seen him look at you once since that day when he and Ellie arrived. It was slowly driving you nuts.

So there you sat at the bar, nursing a glass of whisky and staring after the man that had just left the barn yet again. He´d worn a black shirt and a light flannel over it as the weather was slowly getting warmer. The way the material had hugged his waist and slight tummy pouch almost made you whimper with need. The alcohol coursing through you didn’t make it any better. You closed your eyes momentarily and there he was, looking at you with pure desire in his eyes. That´s it!

You threw back the rest of your drink and got up from the bar. Waving at different familiar faces you lightly stumbled outside and took some deep breaths of the still winter crisp air. Turning down the road towards your flat you felt the desire in your belly boil stronger and stronger. A small high pitched grunt escaped your throat as you forced your jelly like legs to move faster. You needed something to release the tension tonight. And the one thing you wanted more than anything to release it was not obtainable at the time. So, you had no choice than to do it yourself. You stumbled up the flight of stairs at the side of the bakery building and clumsily fished out your keys.

Once the door was closed behind you, you kicked off your shoes and stumbled into your living room overlooking the town square below. Soft light from the streetlamp offered enough light to find your cosy couch. Flopping down on it you immediately lifted your hips and got rid of the denim. Getting rid of the rest of your clothes you were a panting, desperate mess the moment you lay your body back onto the couch and got comfortable. The moment your fingertips brushed over your nipple you knew this wouldn’t take long. Your insides already clamped down around nothing by the time your hand brushed over your mound.

Images of Joel invaded your mind without you having a chance to stop them. You imagined his wide shoulders above you, his calloused hands brushing against the sensitive flesh of your inner thighs. Whimpering and biting your lip you pinched your nipple again and lightly tapped your clit. Your legs shook and tried to close around your hand already but you forced them open again. The slightly cold air of your apartment stroking your wet and heated lips, making goosebumps appear all over your arms. “Fuck” you whispered out of breath. Your finger circling your clit faster and faster while your hips bucked upwards. Throwing your head back you felt the coil in your stomach. Just a little more.

“Fuck, please” you breathed while pushing two fingers inside of you. “Oh shit, oh shit. Ahh, Joel! Fuck. Fuck, please.” Your wrist began to hurt a little the way you so quickly tried to get to that sweet release. You screwed your eyes shut when you felt your orgasm approaching. A few hurried strokes over your clit later, combined with a hefty circling of your stiffened nipple a small shout left your lips. Your back arching into your hand as your body convulsed with Joels voice in your ears. That´s a wonderful girl. That´s it, baby, come on. Come for me, come for me! “Oh god….oh fuck!!” It seemed to go on forever. Several moments later you were still twitching and a strangely sad yet satisfied heaviness washed over you. The itch was halfway gone but you knew you had to do something about your feelings for Joel. This was getting a little out of hand and he didn’t even know about his effect on you. With a heavy sigh and still a bit tipsy you blindly reached for your blanket und pulled it up to your chin, falling asleep almost instantly.

Several houses down the road Joel was sitting on his bed, his head in his hands trying yet again to get the images of you out of his head. The images that where currently the reason for his raging erection that he couldn’t seem to be able to control. Hissing when your sweet innocent smile appeared behind his eyelids and his dick pressed even more against his zipper, he grunted and covered it with one of his hands. This was getting ridiculous. Damn coward, he was. The moment he lay his eyes on you there was something aching in his chest. An itch he couldn’t remember ever having. It wasn’t just sexual. Although he gave up on counting how often he´d already touched himself for just a tiny bit of relief whenever he´d been in your presence.

He felt dirty. Not just because you were probably a good chunk younger than him but because he felt his resolve and patience crumble by the day. He already tried his hardest to not be close to you, to not finally snap, pull you into an alley, hoist you up and kissing you neck. Not to hear your sweet whimpers when he´d finally touch you, caress your silky skin and pant praises into your ear.

“Fucking hell” he grunted and once again gave up on not relieving himself from the tortures pleasure you enveloped him in day after day. He pulled his shirt over his head, stood and kicked his jeans away. Clad in only his boxers he lay down on his bed and once again tried to take control over his body. To no avail. The moment his eyes closed he could see your glittering eyes, you enticing mouth. The beautiful shape of your body making his head spin every time he saw it. You´d worn a V-neck top today. The gently slope of your collarbone burned into his memory. The perfect swell of your chest more revealed than he´d ever saw it.

His hand brushed his bulge and he clenched his jaw shut, pulling his boxers down. His erection hitting his lower stomach gently he could already feel the wetness of precum smudging the angry red tip. Joel drifted away. Thinking about your body underneath his own he began to stroke his cock languidly. His toes already curling slightly he thought about how you´d react to his body. His slight squishiness. Did you like that? Or did you prefer stone hard muscles? He wasn’t weak by any means but age had slowly begun to wrap its fingers around him. Imagining you´d find him as irresistible as he found you, his thumb moved over the slit, gathering the wetness there and circling it around the head.

A deep rumble echoed in his room as he opened his mouth slightly. “God, sweetheart” he breathed as he could feel the heat travel up his spine. Squeezing his cock harder and moving his hand faster up and down he felt a drop of sweat run down his neck. He imagined licking your neck, kissing your pulse point and gently biting at your ear. The sound of your sweet whimpering and breathless pleads invaded his mind. It drove him closer and closer to his end. Where you quiet in bed or would you voice your desires to him? Oh how he hoped you´d do that. He wanted nothing more than to know what made you feel good, worshipped, wanted. Loved.

By the end of that thought he almost lost all control as he felt his balls tighten. Jesus, when was the last time that feelings like returned affection got him going this hard? He was panting by now and murmuring into the darkness. “What do you like, baby, huh? T-tell me.” He gasped when he squeezed the base of his cock hard as to not come too quickly. “Bet you like my tongue, don’t you? Bet you like it when I explore every inch of you with just the tip of it.” Goosebumps covered his whole body at this point and he felt like he was drunk. His head was reeling with every possibility of having you scream his name. “I bet you have the most sensitive nipples, don’t you? Oh fuck! Hggnn…h-how long has it been for you, darlin´? God, I bet y-you´re sensitive all over. Oh, good god. Oh, fuck.” He tried to keep his voice under control but it was shaking and rough.

One hand moved to his mouth and he quickly spit in it. Still moving his other hand up and down on his shaft he covered the head with his slick palm and began lifting his hips with every stroke. He was completely gone at that point. Huffing and moaning he began to fuck his own hand imagining his hips slotted between your legs and looking down at his cock disappearing into your wet and hot pussy again and again. A high monotone sound rushed through his ears as he got lost in the sensation and imagination of fucking you deep into his mattress.

“Ah, shit, baby. That´s it. So fucking warm. Hmmpf, wanna feel you so bad, wanna make you cum for me so bad. P-Please,___. ´M coming. Fuck, fuck,___. ´M coming, c-comi…com…HMMPHH!!” His hips lifted off the bed the moment he felt an overwhelming orgasm crush into him, making him groan and releasing pent up air quickly and loudly. Still gently tugging on his spent cock he rested his head onto his pillow and tried to calm down. His heart almost beat out of his chest as he registered his sticky cum not only covered his hand but had also landed on his stomach and chest. After several minutes he grunted and got up. He walked into his bathroom and turned on the shower.

As the hot water cascaded over his shoulders, back and ass, dribbling down his strong legs he tried to make a plan on how to approach this problem he had with you. Not that it actually was a problem but he couldn’t go on like this. He needed to solve this somehow. Problem was, he hadn’t found himself in this kind of situation with these kinds of feelings in over 20 years.

Either you put him out of his misery or, for some unforeseen, ridiculous reason you desired him too. Wanted to see him smile just as much as he wanted to see you smiling every second of every day.

Grow a pair and at least next time stay long enough to have a drink with her, he scolded himself. It was a start. Tomorrow. Tomorrow was Marias birthday celebration at the barn. He actually hadn’t planed on going, seeing as Maria didn’t really seem very fond of him yet but…you´d be there. You´d be there and it would be a party of sorts. He´d get you a drink. He´d try to have a conversation with you. He´d try, damn it. Maybe Jackson was his new beginning with Ellie.

Maybe Jackson was his new haven…with you.

_________________________________________________________

Thank you so much for reading <3 Please consider interacting with this post. I´m really happy about every like, comment or reblog. I´d really aprreciate a written feedback in a comment or a reblog so I know if this is up the alley of my readers and followers. :) It would make my day.

I appreciate all of you, stay safe and healthy <3

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deakyjoe · 1 year

Text

Stormy Skies

Pairing: Din Djarin x Reader (no pronouns used I think)

Category: friends to lovers

Summary: Din breaks you out of an Imperial prison (loosely based on chapter 15).

Warnings: angst, fluff, touched-starved Din, helmet is off, prison, nasty guards, restraints, bad men, talks of death, separation, loose implication of what bad men can do, pet names (cyar’ika), canon-divergence (I guess??), when I say loosely based I mean very loosely based

Word count: 5.5k

A/N: Sad, brown-eyed, pathetic love of my life. (He's not pathetic but I’ll make him pathetic.) Din is slightly out of character but only because he's head over heels in love and feeling all soft and squishy inside about it. He's also a little insecure. Poor guy. It's purposefully ambiguous about how long reader has been imprisoned, so guess however long you'd like.

Consider buying me a coffee :)

It took three weeks, four days, sixteen hours and twenty two minutes before you realised that the inside of this Imperial prison would be the only thing you saw for the foreseeable future. The three walls and one row of bars now being your home. After that you resigned yourself to the idea that you'd be there forever so you stopped counting the days, the weeks, the... months? You didn't know how long you'd been there and you didn't want to know how long either.

All you knew is that you wanted to leave. Not because you were scared of death or scared of never seeing the outside world again. But because you missed two very important people in your life. The big, scary Mandalorian who had hired you just under a year ago as his mechanic and his strange green son who had weird superpowers who you sometimes babysat. The both of them meant the world to you and the idea of never seeing them again hurt you. You feared for the child's life as he had also been taken at the same time as you but had been imprisoned elsewhere, probably to be experimented on. And you feared for the state of your Mandalorian who would be lost without his kid.

"Food."

The announcement made your stomach lurch as it knocked you out of your thoughts. A small plate, with a pile of something in the middle, was pushed into your cell - probably the most unappealing thing in the galaxy but your only source of nutrition. Your mind strayed to nicer things as you desperately tried to ignore the revolting taste.

You thought of days spent in the Razor Crest, your Mandalorian's ship, as the three of you travelled from planet to planet in order for bounties to be collected. The memories of attempting to teach the child to speak some words in Basic but only getting baby babbling in response, it didn't matter as his eyes always shone as if he knew what you were saying to him.

You ached for your clan of three to be reunited, but realistically you knew that was unlikely. If anything, you just wanted Grogu to be safe. Back with Din and safe. And there was no place safer for him than under the care of Din Djarin.

A guard walking into your cell had you scrambling back against the wall as he took your plate from you and laughed, slightly muffled by his helmet. He kicked at the chain bound around your feet and walked out again, locking the bars behind him.

He was your least favourite of everyone who served in your section of the prison. He didn't seem to like you very much, and wasn't afraid to show it. You feared that one day he'd use the power he had over you to do something awful. So, for now, you tried to play as nice as possible with him.

The sound of low chattering caught your attention, the unmistakable noise of Stormtrooper armour bashing against itself making its way down the corridor. Plastic against plastic made an unbearable racket. You looked up to peek through the bars of your cell and crawled towards the sound, hoping that they weren't coming for you. If you could guess from the sound of them alone, you'd say there were about three or four of them. Definitely more than two and probably less than five.

Your assumption was proven correct when three Troopers turned the corner at the end of the hallway. One was clearly in charge, leading the other two. You thought his name was... you didn't know actually. And you didn't care either. But he was their superior. But the other two... They were low ranking officers, obvious by their uniform and the way they looked around as if they'd never seen the inside of a prison before. Maybe it was their first day on the job? Boy, were they in for a surprise.

The bald one seemed vaguely familiar, although he looked like pretty much any other guy in the galaxy so you didn't dwell on it too much. The other one, however, held no resemblance to anyone you'd ever seen before. He had sad eyes. That was the first thing you noticed about him. Sad, brown eyes. Along with a strong nose that matched his face. Golden skin. And messy hair along with unkempt facial hair. Very un-Trooperish. You wondered how he managed to get away with it. He was rather beautiful to look at. You pushed the thought away with a reminder of what he was - Empire.

As they got closer, you began to overhear their conversation. They were talking about some battle that had been fought a while ago, lots of soldiers lost. Baldy appeared mildly upset as he disclosed that some of his friends had died. Brown eyes wasn't listening and clearly searching for something. And he seemed to find it when his eyes landed on you.

He paused for the smallest fraction of a second before he carried on walking with the other two. He stared at you but you didn't back down, staring right back through the cell bars. You wouldn't let a Trooper intimidate you, especially not a new one. A sense of achievement hit you when he finally looked away, swallowing thickly and averting his gaze as far away from you as possible. He nudged the bald guy next to him with his elbow and tilted his head in your direction.

What the fuck did these guys want with you? You shivered at the thought, a million horrifying ideas running through your brain. You relaxed slightly when they disappeared around the next corner.

The rest of the day passed slowly, as they all did, and soon enough the lights were going out and all prisoners were warned to stay silent for the next few hours. You shifted to get your body in the most comfortable position possible, pretty difficult when you had chains restraining your limbs, and laid down, resting your head in the crook of your elbow.

You drifted off easily, the low drone of the power running through the walls and the floor lulling you to sleep. With nothing to do all day, zero access to natural light and limited portions of food you were tired all of the time. And the little energy you had was reserved for keeping your defences up when guards entered your cell on rare occasions.

Your dreams were full of Din and Grogu, as usual, and you often wondered during your conscious moments whether your brain was reminding you of happy moments to keep you sane or telling you what you'd had and what you'd lost as a way of punishing you.

What you didn't expect was to be awoken a short time later by your cell door being unlocked, the clanging of the metal shocking you out of your dreams. You sat up instantly, freezing when two looming figures walked in, whispering to each other in hushed tones.

The two Troopers from earlier.

You felt sick.

They were both wearing their helmets now and their heads snapped towards you when your chain scraped across the floor painfully. The broader one, who seemed to be leading the team of two, stalked towards you slowly.

"No, no, no, no!" You kicked at him as he went for your ankles trying, and failing, to fight him off. The breath spilling from your lungs was panicked as you failed to notice the other guy groaning and sticking his arms out to tell you to be quiet.

Your name came through the Trooper helmet in a familiar, reassuring voice. It was Din. Your Mandalorian. You'd never felt such a sense of relief race through your body as you relaxed underneath his touch.

"Mando?" You avoided using his real name around other people, as you'd agreed when he first told you. It was a small price for such a wonderful gift. His name. "You're here. You came for me?"

"Yes." He fumbled with your restraints, managing to get the ones off your ankles and moving to the ones on your wrists.

You looked at the other guy who had slipped his helmet off at some point. The bald guy. "Hang on. I saw you earlier. You walked through here with that guy in charge and-" Your eyes snapped back to Din. "That was you."

He was looking at you through the helmet, you could tell. "Come on, we don't have much time."

"B-but... you... your face." Your voice was weak, mind scrambling back to the memory of him. Brown eyes. Sad eyes. Messy hair. Unkempt facial hair. Strong nose. Golden skin. Beautiful.

He faltered. "I know. I did what had to be done."

"You broke your creed." You were almost crying. "To save me."

Hesitation. "Yes, of course. Come on."

The shackles finally fell from your wrists and you launched yourself at him, embracing him even if you were in a life or death situation.

"Thank you."

He seemed uncertain at the gesture as his arms slowly wrapped around your waist. "You don't have to thank me."

You pulled away quickly, not wanting to push it and make him uncomfortable. "Yes, I do." Looking back at the bald guy as you stood up, you squinted at him. "You're familiar."

"Mayfeld." He had a smirk on his face as he watched the interaction between you and Din, sticking out his hand in greeting but you ignored it. "You're welcome for this, by the way. I'm the main reason we're here right now saving you."

His name reminded you of who he was, a scowl settling over your face. "I appreciate it. But we're not out yet. They have people guarding everywhere. And I mean everywhere."

"It won't be a problem." Din's voice was low as he straightened up.

"How do you know so much about this place, hm?" Mayfeld asked you, stepping slightly closer.

"I may have attempted an escape... once or twice." You shrugged and kicked your restraints away from your feet. "That's why I was chained to the wall."

The two men were silent as they stared at you, Mayfeld looking surprised and Din's gaze burning into you despite being obscured by the helmet.

"I know their rotation schedules, how long of a gap there is between shift changes and which Troopers like me best so will leave the handcuffs a little looser." You looked between the two of them. "What? I had time to plan."

"And what have we got now?" Din questioned, glancing back at the open bars. "Anything scheduled to happen?"

You thought it over for a moment, glancing at the clock just outside of your cell. "Shift change in about six minutes. There will be a thirty-three second gap where the doors are unmanned."

"We can work with that." The Mandalorian replied, producing a pair of handcuffs from his back pocket.

A sick feeling settled in your stomach at the sight of them. "Ah, so I'm fake prisoner. Right?"

"In case we come across anyone." Mayfeld explained, a smug grin on his face. "Need to make it believable that we're moving you to a new cell."

With a nod, you looked back up to Din. "Be gentle, okay?"

"Of course, cyar'ika."

You sighed, storing away the nickname to ask about it later. "Where's Grogu?"

His fists clenched by his sides, the leather of his gloves squeaking. "They still have him."

Bile rose in your throat. "What?"

Why was he here if the child was still missing?

"Maker, why are you here?" You asked him, pushing at his shoulder. "You need to save him!"

"I'm here to save you." He was already bored with you again, you could tell by the lack of emotion in his voice. Maybe he was regretting saving you.

"I could have waited! Grogu's a baby!" You cried, worry settling in your stomach at the thought of your poor, poor Grogu possibly being tortured and experimented on whilst you were swooning over Din rescuing you.

"They had information on the kid's location here as well." The Mandalorian offered.

That made more sense. "Ah, so it wasn't just to save me."

"I would've come for you even if they had nothing on him." He sounded annoyed now, frustrated at your questioning.

"Grogu's priority." You turned to Mayfeld. "Why did you let him come here when the child is still missing?"

His hands raised in surrender. "Hey! Don't turn this on me!"

"Be more grateful." Din stated as he walked towards you and turned you around, pulling your hands behind your back to secure them in place with the cuffs. "I could have left you here forever."

You didn't want to admit out loud that what he had just suggested was your worst fear and something you truly believed until he'd showed up. A part of you thought you'd be there for the rest of your life. But you couldn't tell him that. So you offered a weak joke.

"You know what they say... third time's the charm. I'm sure my next attempt at an escape would have worked." The cuffs clicked into place and you tried not to focus on the feeling of being restrained again. You'd spent too long like this, and here you were about to escape and you were back in the same position. It was almost funny.

Din could sense your unease and placed a gloved hand on the small of your back in reassurance.

"Let's go." Mayfeld chimed and marched out of the cell in front of the two of you.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and followed behind, Din's hands locked around yours to make sure the restraints didn't pull too harshly. Weaving in and out of corridors was dangerous, especially with the guards constantly patrolling. Unfortunately, it didn't take long before you bumped into a couple of them.

"Halt!" They shouted, raising their weapons to the three of you. "What are you doing with prisoner five six one?"

There was probably too long of a pause between the question and the answer that was finally given, setting off the initial seed of suspicion.

Mayfeld stepped in with his sly smile. "We were instructed to move the prisoner to a new cell."

The two guards bowed their heads together, mumbling a quick debate. Your hands twitched with nerves behind your back and you felt the Mandalorian trace a thumb over them in comfort. It somewhat worked.

"We'll need you to come with us to confirm." One of them said, straightening up and re-aiming his blaster right at you.

"I'm sorry, cyar'ika." Din grumbled with a sigh behind you before there was a slight squeeze on the side of your neck and you were out.

When you awoke you were surrounded by the sounds of a humming engine and the whirring of the inside of a ship. You jolted up and almost hit your head on the top of the bunk you'd been placed in.

Wait. A bunk?

You looked around you rapidly to suddenly realise that you weren’t just in any bed. You were in Din’s bed. On the Razor Crest.

You jumped out of it and stumbled once you landed on your feet, leaning on the wall for support.

“Woah, woah! Slow down, take it easy.” A modulated voice appeared behind you as strong arms wrapped around your torso to keep you steady.

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” You slurred, still slightly groggy from being unconscious. “How long was I out?”

“A few hours.” Din replied, letting you turn to look at him. He was back in his Beskar armour, looking as shiny as ever. The sight of him made you smile.

“You knocked me out!” You cried but there wasn’t an ounce of real anguish in your voice. In fact, it was rather playful.

He didn’t seem to pick up on that. “It was necessary.”

You waved your hand at him, showing you weren’t really bothered by that. So you approached the subject you were really affected by. “You saved me.”

“Yes.” His voice was a gentle rasp as he spoke the singular word. He was never much of a talker. But you hung on to every word.

“Why?”

“What do you mean why?”

“You removed your helmet to save me.” You frowned at him, like you were annoyed at him for breaking his creed.

Another rasp. “Yes.”

“But-“

“But what?”

You laughed like it was obvious. "I don't understand why. I'm just me."

"And it's just a creed."

Your head reared back. "Just a creed?"

"Just you?" He answered back, imitating your tone and inflection.

"That's- Din, it's your life. Being a Mandalorian is everything to you.” You cried, hands waving in emphasis. “Why would you risk that? For me?"

His head tilted to the side in his usual expression of emotion. Or lack of. "This is the Way."

"No.” You snapped. “The Way is not showing your face under any circumstances. And you- you showed your face!"

"To save you."

"Yes!"

The helmet tilted even further. "What part do you not understand?"

"I'm not worth it." You said, hands wringing together in front of you. And you truly believed what you were saying.

"What?"

"Why would you do that for me?"

"I'd do anything for you."

Your mouth snapped shut, the protest you had prepared dying in your throat.

"You and the kid. I'd tear apart this galaxy for the both of you. You're... you're part of my clan."

A part of you wished he'd left you in that prison. If he'd done that then your head wouldn't be spinning and you wouldn't be overwhelmed with emotions at what he was throwing at you in that moment. His clan. You were a member of his clan.

"Din..."

His name was soft from your lips and he sighed slowly at the sound.

"The only way to explain is-" He cut himself off and inhaled, taking a step closer to you. Placing his hand under your chin, he tilted your head up to face him and lowered his helmet so your foreheads rested together. The cold of his armour sent shivers down your spine. Although it might have also been caused by the action of what he was doing, what he was saying.

Din had explained this to you before when you'd asked about affection between the people of Mandalore. It was a way for Mandalorians to kiss without having to show their faces. It was... intimate, to say the least.

Your eyes fluttered shut when the reality of what he was telling you dawned. "Din..."

Another soft whisper of his name had him sighing again.

Unfortunately, he took it the wrong way and pulled back. "You don't have to- The kid and you are important to me. That's... that's what you need to know. About why- why I did this."

You shook your head and smiled at him, hooking your hand around the back of his neck and tugging him down towards you again so your foreheads touched. "And I was willing to die in that prison to keep you and the child safe."

"They... they were planning to kill you?"

"I kept refusing to teach them how to get the kid to use his wizard baby powers. And I wouldn't tell them where you were either. Or how to contact you."

"What did they need me for?"

"See you as a threat. Or to use me as bait. I'm not sure which. Maybe both."

"It would've worked. You as bait. If I didn't already know where you were, of course."

"Of course." You grinned at him and hoped he was smiling back. You tended to guess what his facial expressions were, normally hoping that he was returning whatever you gave him but usually settling on the fact that he was probably bored and his face would show it. "I missed you."

"I missed you too, cyar'ika."

Your stomach flipped at the Mando'a. "What does that mean?"

"It's Mando'a."

"I guessed that. I'm asking for a translation." You rolled your eyes, finally pulling back from the Mandalorian kiss to look at him properly again. "I hope it's something nice."

You could tell he was smiling when he said his next words. They were hesitant, but tender. "It means darling or sweetheart. A term of endearment."

"Oh... that's- that is nice." Mentally berating yourself, you bit on your lower lip to hold back an excited giggle. Nice? There were so many words that were better than nice. "I don't have anything like that where I'm from. If I did I'd-"

He cut you off with a hand cupping your cheek. "I know, cyar'ika. I know."

There was a moment of silence as the two of you just looked at each other. It was broken when Din sighed suddenly and dropped his hand from your cheek.

"I never wanted you to see my face that way."

Oh.

"Din, I-" You cut yourself off to contemplate your words. "I'm sorry that you had to reveal your face. And that I saw. If I'd known... I wouldn't have stared at you."

"No, I didn't mean it like that." He exhaled loudly. "Do you remember? What I look like?"

The memory of his face flashed in your mind. Of course you remembered. Every single detail. And you'd probably secretly treasure it for the rest of your life.

"Yes..."

His head dropped for a second, helmet aimed at the floor, before it suddenly shot back up to meet your gaze. "And?"

"And what?" Having no idea what he was asking of you, your brows scrunched together.

He was so close now that you were sure you'd be able to hear his breathing even without the modulator. "Was I- was I a disappointment?"

"What?" Disbelief ran through you. How could this wonderful, gorgeous man ever be a disappointment? With or without the helmet obscuring his face he had always been and would always be perfect to you.

"Well, you must have had some... some image of what I'd look like in your head."

You immediately disagreed with him. "No, never."

"Don't lie. It's okay. You can tell me."

"I'm not lying. And I am telling you."

"Cyar'ika..."

Your heart did somersaults in your chest. "No, I never conjured up some fantasy of what you'd look like. Because this here-" You gestured at the whole of him, hand waving up and down his body. "-is my Din. This is you to me. Why would I ever warp who you truly are for some made up version?"

"You must've been curious."

You shrugged. "Maybe at the beginning. But who you are on the inside is all that has ever mattered to me."

"So what did you think when you saw my face?"

Your eyes snapped away from his on instinct, embarrassment crawling through you as you recalled your immediate thoughts of him. Thoughts you'd pushed away at the time because you thought he was a Trooper. Thoughts that had resurfaced when you found out that it was really him.

"Oh, no thoughts." Your voice was weak, barely coming out as more than a squeak. It was clear you were lying. "Just that you were a man..."

"Cyar'ika..."

A flush racked through you at the use of the term of endearment. He knew how to make you weak in the knees, how to make you break, you were sure of it.

"Calling me that isn't fair."

"Don't avoid the question." His head tilted to the side. "Tell me. What did you think?"

Unsure at how he'd turned from insecure, sweet Din to a version of Din that had you swooning, you shook your head at him. "I told you. No thoughts."

"And I can tell you're lying. Look at me." He placed his fingers under your chin to angle you to face him. "Tell me."

You started with a small truth. "Your eyes were sadder than I thought they'd be."

He seemed slightly taken aback by that but didn't hesitate too much in answering. "I was scared I'd lost you."

"But I thought you said you didn't know they were planning on killing me?"

"It was always a possibility." He shrugged. "We were getting towards the end of the cells when I saw you. I was... getting nervous. Thought maybe they'd transferred you somewhere else and I'd never find you. Couldn't live with that idea."

If it were possible, you softened even more under his touch. "But you did find me. And I'm here. Safe. Because of you."

"Hmm." He just hummed in agreement, shifting his hand so it moved to cup your jaw instead. "What else?"

You huffed, hoping you'd got out of the line of questioning about your opinions on his appearance. Whilst having openly admitted a whole spout of feelings for each other, you weren't quite ready to declare how absolutely breathtaking he was.

"Don't make me say it."

"Say what, cyar'ika? Hm? I'm just asking."

You leaned into his touch, the warmth from his palm along with the sound of the Mando'a pet name set off a spark within you. When his gloved thumb swooped over your cheek gently you were sure that your brain short circuited.

"You're beautiful, Din."

The statement was breathless but held certainty in it. The Mandalorian didn't reply, too shocked by your confession. He honestly hadn't been expecting you to be so open. And to say that of all things.

So you kept going. "It was never going to matter to me what you looked like underneath the Beskar. Because who you are as a person is the only important thing. But I have to admit that I thought you were gorgeous when you walked past my cell. And then I immediately felt guilty because I thought you were a Trooper." Your head dipped in shame for a moment. "You are beautiful, Din Djarin. Inside and out."

He still said nothing, hands just lifting to the bottom of his helmet.

When you heard the hiss of the seal, your hands slapped across your eyes. "Ah! What are you doing?"

"Taking off my helmet. What are you doing?" He sounded amused.

"Covering my eyes so I don't see obviously." You scoffed and scrunched your eyes beneath your palms.

"Cyar'ika, you've already seen my face."

"So? I might have remembered details wrong."

"Thought you said I was beautiful?"

You huffed, not liking how he was turning that against you. "I did but revealing your identity is a big no-no, Din! That's what the Way says, right?"

"Right." He was holding back laughter.

"Exactly! Doesn't matter if I've seen you before. Might not remember you completely correctly." You remembered him completely correctly. "So we cannot risk you revealing yourself a whole other time."

The way you were so respectful of his creed, no matter how ridiculous you were being at that moment with your hands pressed tightly over your eyes, had Din tingling inside.

"I don't think it's a risk if you've seen me before and you're a part of my clan, hm?"

You grumbled something underneath your breath. "I can't argue with you on Mandalorian culture because you're the expert. But I feel as if you're finding loopholes here."

"Perhaps. Just look."

The sound of his helmet hissing and the dull clang of it hitting the floor had you hesitating before slowly peeling your hands away from your face.

He was exactly how you remembered.

Every line, every scar, every eyelash, every inch of skin, the deep brown of his eyes, the angle of his nose, the unruly tufts of curls atop his head and the uneven patches of facial hair peppered across his jaw and down his neck. This was your Din Djarin. Stood in front of you, everything exposed and exactly how you remembered him. Exactly how you wanted him. Perfect. The whole of him was perfect.

With a stifled sigh of relief, you reached out your hands to cup his face, hesitating for a moment when you realised he might hate that. "Can I?"

He nodded, his eyes looking sad yet hopeful - an improvement from the last time you saw them.

Your palms settled on his cheeks, thumbs swiping over his cheeks and across his bristly stubble. A smile broke across your face when his eyelids closed and he leaned in your touch.

"Oh, Din..." Tears sprang to your eyes yet you couldn't exactly explain why, the flood of emotions was overwhelming.

"Cyar'ika..." He breathed against the skin of your wrist, turning slightly in your grasp to plant his lips against your palm.

You took a step closer to him, encouraging him to duck down and rest his forehead against yours. A Mandalorian kiss, stripped of the barrier between the two of you. He let out a shaky sigh as you made contact, his hair tickling your brow.

"When was the last time someone touched you? Skin on skin?" You needed to know, he was acting like he'd never felt the warmth of physical contact before.

He hummed lowly in his chest as he thought about it, eyes shut tight in contemplation. "My parents, I think."

Your heart ached for him. It had been decades. You wanted more, to give him more, but worried that it might be too much too fast. But you yearned to touch him, to show him how good it could be.

Broken out of your thoughts by a rustling noise between the two of you, you glanced down without breaking away from him to see that he was removing his leather gloves and throwing them to the floor beside you.

You stared at his hands, scars littering both the palms and the backs. You'd never wanted someone to touch you with their hands more.

Din appeared to have the same thought as he hovered them over your sides, fists clenching open and closed. "Can I?"

"Can you what, hm?" You wanted- no needed him to say it, to be as clear as possible between you.

"Touch you. Can I touch you please?" His eyes were still closed but you could see he was restless behind his lids, almost worried even.

"Of course you can."

You expected him to just place his hands on your hips or waist, which he did technically. What you didn't expect was for him to slide his hands underneath the hem of your shirt and place them directly onto your skin, squeezing slightly when he made contact.

You hummed contently in acknowledgement to tell him that it was okay and stepped closer to him, your chest pressing up against the Beskar now.

“Can I kiss you?” The question was sudden, hushed, almost unsure.

You didn’t hesitate in tilting your head upwards and reassuring him of how much you wanted exactly that. “I’m so glad you asked.”

Then his lips were on yours, a relieved sigh exiting him and a content one leaving you.

You moved together in time, like you knew how the other worked and what they wanted. And maybe you did. Maybe you knew each so well, or knew that the other wanted the same thing you did. Din’s thumbs stroked gently at the skin of your waist and yours swiped over his cheeks, brushing away a stray tear that had fallen from his eyes. His sad, brown eyes. You hoped they’d be less sad in the future.

He broke away for a moment to mumble against your lips. "I was so scared I'd lost you."

You shook your head and kissed him again. "I thought I'd never see you again."

“I wouldn’t have left you there.” He promised, hands gripping you impossibly tighter. “There isn’t a single thing I wouldn’t have done to get you back.”

You just nodded at him, believing every word he was saying, and pulled him closer to kiss you again. The way his lips melded against yours and the way your tongues curled together had you convinced that this was meant to be. It was so utterly perfect that it felt as if the stars had written it centuries ago, always destined to happen.

“Cyar’ika…” He hummed to you when you both broke away again for some air.

As much as you wanted this moment to last forever, a thought suddenly re-entered your mind. “Grogu!”

“It’s okay. We know where he is and we’re on our way to get him back.” He smiled at your concern for the child, understanding it completely. He felt the same after all.

You nodded gently, relieved that the child would be back and safe soon enough. Then things really would be back to how they should be again. The three of you - you, your Mandalorian and your green child. Perfect.

A/N: this has been under works for agessss… hope you enjoyed!

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userjoel · 1 year

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That’s all I do. It’s all I’ve ever done — is fail her, again and again.

#the last of us #joel miller #pedro pascal #ppascaledit #tlouhboedit #joelmilleredit #pedrohub #tusercora #userconstance #tusernicky #userallisyn #*#half dimly lit shots of pedro's profile my BELOVED !#ik it doesn't look like it but i tried to color it i swear

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a7estrellas · 1 year

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PEDRO PASCAL as SILVA in STRANGE WAY OF LIFE Extraña Forma De Vida

#pedro pascal #silva #strange way of life #extraña forma de vida #pedropascaledit #ppascaledit #I'm ready #HQ my beloved

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lowlights · 1 year

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Same move, very different energy.

#pedrito #my beloved #snl #the bubble #pedro pascal

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theanothersherlockian · 9 months

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ok maybe i’m seeing too much into the picture and maybe someone has already pointed it out BUT

i can’t help but notice that everyone has a drink in front of them except Frankie.

Will has the blue beers (2) , Benny the red one in front of him and the other red one (2), Santi has the blue one (3) and Tom drinks the red beers in front of him.

What about Frankie you might ask, well on the scene where they all leave Frankie is driving. Frankie was the designated driver of the night, he couldn’t have a drink. His space on the table is empty because he’s responsible to get them safe.

idk love the detail jeje.

#frankie my beloved #my triple frontier boys #frankie morales #pedro pascal #francisco morales #triple frontier #santiago garcia #will miller #benny miller #benjamin miller #oscar isaac #pedro pascal character fanfiction #frankie morales x reader #frankie catfish morales #triple frontier fanfic

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mdawgswizzleinthehizzle · 5 months

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this is an amazing parallel drawing of ellie and joel vs. abby and lev

make sure to check out @justralphy on IG for more art. he does some great work.

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ranna-alga · 5 months

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No but real talk here- one of my favourite little details that were included in the HBO adaptation of TLOU that I noticed is that you can literally see Joel's hair growth from ep 1 to ep 9...

Like I'm sure I'm not the first person to realise this and maybe it sounds super trivial to get giddy over but I can't help it!!! The details!!!

#ranna word dumping #details that are super subtle but still in plain sight my beloved #Joel with ep 9 hair my little skrunkly #the last of us #tlou #the last of us hbo #the last of us series #joel miller #ellie williams #ellie williams the last of us #joel miller the last of us #pedro pascal #bella ramsey #tlou hbo

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oogaboogasphincter · 4 months

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a bowlful of joel-y

summary: he was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot / and his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot; / a bundle of toys he had flung on his back, / and he looked like a peddler just opening his pack / his eyes — how they twinkled! his dimples, how merry! / his cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry! / he had a broad face and a little round belly / that shook when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly || you never would have guessed who you find stumbling around jackson dressed up as santa claus on christmas eve night, leaving presents for all the kids in town. you take on the role of santa's elf and help him deliver his toys - and land yourself on his nice list just in time for christmas morning.

word count/warnings: 4.8k+ words EXPLICIT (18+ ONLY) MDNI! // reader has insomnia, a pinch of grumpy joel but he’s mostly jolly (at least by his standards), one mention of alcohol/drunkenness, christmas/holiday fluff, a conversation about loss and grief around the holidays (joel talks about sarah), description of panic attacks + healing❤️‍🩹, food and eating (milk+cookies ofc), unprotected piv sex (do as i say not as i write), jackson era!joel, friends to lovers teehee

a/n: merry christmas @lisadean! i'm so so sorry this is three days late, i got a head cold just as i was putting my finishing touches on this and i didn't want to post it without a final read-through :( i hope you enjoy your secret santa gift as much as i did writing it! 🤭🎁 i want to thank all my besties at @pedrostories for organizing this event, it's what introduced me to the blog and i'm so excited and honored to be participating in it both as a writer and moderator this year 💗 i wish all my readers a very happy holidays!! (pls let me know who made the beautiful gif above, i found it on pinterest w no credit ☹️)

It’s Christmas Eve and you can’t sleep.

No matter how hard you try, your shuttered eyes can’t keep.

You toss and turn with increasing agitation,

Thoughts of going downstairs gnawing with temptation.

It’d just be a little peek, you reason,

Of the freshly fallen snow of the season.

With a huff of exertion and a swaddle of flannel,

You get up and trot down the stairs, passing the candles burning on the mantle.

The decorated tree twinkles with light to emit holiday cheer all through the night.

You push aside the heavy drapes of your window and you see red;

Specifically, a fur-trimmed three piece set.

Astonished by what to your wandering eyes did appear, you lean in and begin to peer.

You must be being deceived by your eyes, you think to yourself. The apocalypse has brought to life many horrific figments that you wished were bound by imagination, but the magic of Christmas is something that seems too good to be true after such atrocity has ravaged the Earth. Maybe your vision is bleary from your biting insomnia caused by the latter, or you’ve endured enough that your mind is gifting you a glimpse back into some innocent happiness that you feared you lost long ago. To your surprise, the broad man outside doesn’t vanish with the blink of your eye; instead he trudges along in the snow with a harsh sense of reality, his back bent at a painful angle and his feet falling heavily with every step, bearing the brunt of his costumed weight plus the filled sack that is slung over his shoulder.

Whoever this is - whether it’s a do-gooder or some bloke that had a few too many spiked eggnogs at the Tipsy Bison - it looks like they would appreciate some help. You slip your boots on and head out, wrapping your arms around yourself to cinch your flannel pajamas closer to your frame to shield yourself from the icy midnight flurries. Santa’s back is to you and he doesn’t seem to acknowledge your approaching footsteps. His grunts of exertion are carried on the wind that swirls around you in ribbons: his pack looks even heavier up close than it did from your living room window. You make an effort to announce yourself by grinding your heels into the snow, making each step crunchier than the last.

For a fleeting moment, you relish the childlike wonder that overtakes you, that this could be the real Santa. His heart must be pounding in his ears because when you tap his velveteen shoulder softly, he jumps in shock. It’s immediately apparent that the erratic movement hurt his back further, as a large hand comes to support the small of his spine and he groans when he straightens his neck. The sack drops from his grasp into the snow below. You’re already apologizing as he turns haggardly on his heel, towards you, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. Do you-”

Santa finally rounds on you and your breath catches in your throat. Framed by a faux white beard and the furry trim of his hat are big, gorgeous brown eyes that throw icicles at you with an annoyed stare. His thorough costume fails to work on you - you could recognize those beautiful, baby cow-esque eyes in an instant. A joyous cloud of condensation wafts into Santa’s face as you burst into a fit of uncontrollable laughter, doubling over with tears in your eyes.

He steps forward and covers your mouth with a black leather gloved hand, “Don’t you know anythin’ about stealth?”

The saturation of Joel’s Texan accent increases whenever he’s irritated, tired or relaxed, you’ve noticed, or whenever his controlling grip on stoicism slips just slightly and he’s allowed to return to a more organic version of himself. To his grumbling annoyance, you’ve told him how cute you find it - especially when it’s followed by a blush of tamped-down flattery that crumbles his carefully constructed grimace.

He lets go of you when you’re able to stifle your giggles to a soft chuckling. You eye his outfit up and down, raising your eyebrow in approval. He tries his best not to mirror your bemused smirk. “ What are you doing, Joel Miller?” you ask incredulously.

“What’s it look like I’m doin’?” he grouches rhetorically. You patiently await his answer anyway with a grin that spreads to your eyes with every second that ticks by. He eventually secedes with a sigh, his broad shoulders deflating with exhaustion from more than just your affectionate pestering, “‘M… deliverin’ toys to the kids. Getting a present from Santa is a formative experience. No kid should have their magic robbed of ‘em.”

“Isn’t Santa just one big lie though?” you ask, genuinely. You remember the truth that your friends tried to peddle you while you were still a believer, asking you all kinds of questions as a test to your logic. How is he able to get all across the world in one night? If he’s so big, how is he able to fit down the chimney? Does Santa have to take bathroom breaks, and where?! Most of all, you remember the horror that washed over you when you confronted your parents with your newly-acquired facts, and to your fear, they confirmed the lie. It took you a while to have faith in anything they said after, to the point of absurdity - it took months for you to believe that taking medicine will actually make you feel better when you’re sick.

Joel stiffens. Some inexplicable reason makes you think that it’s not just because of his aching back and tired knees. His voice is tight, uncomfortable, “Yeah, I guess…”

He gradually warms back up, his words spliced with tired breaths, by explaining to you that, “Tommy told me that in years past, the adults would leave presents on Christmas morning, under that big tree they decorate in the town square,” he points behind him to the afar twinkling lights with his thumb, “just before the kids woke up. But since we found that fir tree lot about twenty miles out, everybody was able to get their own tree this year. I asked around if they think it’d be a good idea for someone… f’ me… to be Santa. So that all the kids could have the experience we had. Y’know… leave cookies out an’ all that.” He waves his hand noncommittally and looks off to the side like he thinks the whole idea is ludicrous, as if he doesn’t care. As if he isn’t the sweet, kindhearted man who introduced the very idea.

You fight hard to disguise the enamor that strikes your heart and threatens to leak into your gaze. So you turn to a reliable defense mechanism: teasing. “So… the costume is purely for your own enjoyment then?”

That pulls a breathy chuckle out of Joel’s chest. “I can’t have the kiddos wake up and see some old man in their house. You gotta keep up the illusion, girl.” He nudges you on the shoulder with his knuckles. When he leans in you can smell his breath, warm and sweet with faint notes of spice and cinnamon. His unprecedented playfulness always throws you for a loop and makes you squirm on your feet, a flustered smile warbling on your lips.

It strikes you in inappropriate moments like these that you have the privilege of being chummy with one of the most sought after men in Jackson. A man whose charms you’re not immune to, but you guess you’re better at hiding their effect than others are, as Joel tended to avoid those who openly expressed intimate interest. A man who you so desperately desire, but force yourself to hide your attraction for.

Joel sighs, bending to pick the sack handle up from the ground, “I’m bound to wake them up if I keep fuckin’ lumberin’ around like I am.” You can see how the heavy bag of toys weighs on his back and worsens his heavy-footedness. You can practically hear the alerting scuff of his boots against creaky floorboards, rousing sleeping kids and luring them to spoil their own surprise. “I damn near woke the first one up, ‘cause this fuckin’ sack got stuck between me and the door, an’-”

He cuts himself off, gaping with offended bewilderment watching you try to smother your laughter. The image of him wrestling with the bag, let alone in a full Santa costume, is simply hilarious. A deviousness glints the smile that tugs on half of his face, “Oh, so you think my struggling is funny?”

“No, it’s just…” you search for a more suitable word but guilt shines through your twisted smile and speaks for itself. He lets the silence fill the space between you two for an uncomfortable stretch, running out your fuse until you can’t hold back your giggling.

He puts his hand on his hip, fixing his gaze on you with lighthearted scorn, “You gon’ stand there and laugh at Santa ,” he jeers, scolding you for making fun of an innocent, jolly old man, “or are you gonna make yourself useful?”

For a moment you completely forget why you had come out here in the first place. Joel was legitimately having a difficult time and you had wanted to aid him in any way you could. However, his badgering demeanor has put an equally brattish spin on your helping hand from its chivalrous beginning. You defiantly square your shoulders.

“Actually, I will. I can be like an elf to your Santa. The elves do all of the hard work, anyways. Making the toys, wrapping them, packing the sleigh and caring for the reindeer. And Santa… eats cookies?”

Joel scoffs, pretending to not like the idea of some help, “Oh, yeah? You and what costume?” He jerks his chin at you, looks you up and down for your lack of costume. It’s hard not to pay any attention to the heat that rushes your cheeks thinking about him looking at you like that under different circumstances. He’s right though: you’ll need a costume to maintain the magical facade.

A Christmas miracle bestows itself to you in the front yard you’re standing next to: a snowman outfitted as an elf.

You go over and delicately pluck the pointed hat off of the top snowball so as not to disturb the icy artistry. You pull it down on your head, wiggle, and the movement gives the bell at the end of the point a jingle. “Ready when you are, Mr. Claus.”

Like on patrols and other tasks you’ve been paired with him on before, you and Joel make a fantastic team delivering holiday cheer in the night.

You’ll come to a house, quietly padding up the snowy front steps; Joel will sift through his bag for the correct present for the specific child; and hand it off to you to put under the tree inside. The parents in on the trick have left their doors unlocked and their kids have assembled platters of cookies, varying flavors from house to house, with a note of gratitude for their beloved Santa tucked underneath. You can only hope that the kids’ excited jitters for the following morning have worn their energy levels down enough that they’re soundly slumbering so you can pass through undetected. The bell on your hat is a hazardous giveaway to your presence, so you opt to leave it outside with Joel to ensure your drop-off is silent. There’s no chance any wandering eyes will catch you out of disguise, though, because, as quiet and quick as a mouse, you’re in with a gift and out with empty hands in a flash, ready for the next one.

A couple hours in and you’ve deposited gifts to three quarters of the kids in town. You’ll definitely finish before the Christmas morning sun even thinks about peering over the horizon. Despite the share of labor you’ve accounted for, Joel continues to have a difficult time trudging through the snow, so you both slow down to a pleasant, unhurried stroll to fulfill the remainder of your recipients.

“You okay?” you ask tenderly, smiling softly at him when he cranes his neck to meet your eyes. He nods, his voice tired and breathy, “Yeah, just… old .” He spits that last word out, with bitterness coating his tongue. The imperceptible shake of his head is impatient, agitated, that his body isn’t up to par with what it used to be capable of.

Jackson has softened him, there’s no denying that, but you don’t think it’s such a bad thing. You only arrived at the settlement a year ago, a year into Joel’s stay. He had immediately shown you friendliness, a desire to help you settle in, to care for you. It struck you as odd when you heard the stories from other townspeople of what he was like when he was first welcomed in; that he was the cold, standoffish brother of their warm leader, Tommy, that his permanent scowl radiated a sourness, bordering on ungrateful. The par-baked sociability that you were introduced to was apparently underdone; his face flickered with uncomfortability when any affection was pushed on him, whether it was a simple compliment or a brotherly nudge to his shoulder. Joel couldn’t hide himself from you, though. His desire to surrender was so strong, so yearnful, but he constantly restrained himself from the comfort, the love, with an understandable fear that it could all be taken away.

Accidentally, you forced him to face his fears. He enjoyed your company and soon sought out more and more opportunities to spend time with you until you were inseparable. You began to frighten him when he realized what you were to him, a friend , but it was too late; he couldn’t stay away from you, no matter how loud the loathsome voice in his head screamed for the safety that isolation guaranteed. His biggest source of anxiety now isn’t something reasonable, like clickers: it’s how far into the future he wants to go with you.

Back in the present moment, you shrug, “Well, I think you’re doing a good thing, Joel. Old or not.” The tip of his nose and cheeks are beet red from the frosty air and itchy costume, but his blush deepens to a magenta upon hearing your words. He diverts his eyes. It’s sweet, in a way, how he has trouble accepting praise even from one of his best friends. You dump more validation onto him, because he deserves it, “The community will really love you for this, you know. I know how much you like your solitude, but it’s nice to see you involved. It suits you.”

“I guess literally,” he gestures to his suit of red and white and you laugh together. Despite the tarnishes of age and stains of neglectful wear, the costume does fit him nicely. Just like the infamous poem, it complements his eyes that twinkle under the starlight and his merry dimple that deepens when he laughs. He even has the little round belly to complete the look, though you’re sure he has as much disdain for his softened shape as you have love for it.

The night hours wane in proportion with the fun you’re having. Joel’s silent for a while, and though quietness is never awkward between you two, you can’t help but wonder what he’s thinking about.

You only have a few presents left to deliver when Joel says, “Sarah loved Christmas.”

You slow down next to him to direct your undivided attention on him in this tender moment, but he waves his hand at you to keep moving along. Always some degree of averse to comfort, you work with him however he’ll let you. He faces ahead into the snow coming down, but that’s not what he’s looking at; his gaze is slightly unfocused, like he goes into a dimension that only he can see. You’ve seen that expression on him before and know that snapshots of memories are drifting by in his mind.

His voice is happy to match his smile, only wavering with emotion slightly as he shares with you, “She’d always be eager to start putting the decorations up right after Thanksgiving, always so giddy to go to school and do all the festive little projects they had ‘em doin’. She’d get so into it, she’d come home with glitter all in her hair,” he laughs softly and so do you. “The fridge would be completely covered with her paintings and crafts by the time Christmas came around…”

He stops in his tracks to take a sharp breath in, looking up to the stars with damp eyes. A touch to the permanent fixture on his wrist - his watch - grounds him and restores his smile, despite the painful tinge it now has. You simply observe him for a moment, give him the patience he needs. Then he continues a bit somberly, “I always got a real tree, I didn’t like none of that fake stuff. I would’ve gone and cut one down myself if they grew better than they did in Texas.”

A detachedness casts over his eyes. He breathes hauntedly, “Maybe a lot of things would be different if I hadn’t lived there.”

He sniffles and shakes his head to try and dispel his thoughts, getting irritated that they infiltrated him in the first place. You take a gingerly step forward and lay your fingers over his with impossible tenderness, stroking his quivering knuckles.

“Sounds like she would’ve loved being your little helper tonight.” A stroke of happiness glimmers across his face, colors him back from his ghostly hue.

“Yep, she would’ve been all over that.”

With all of the delicacy you can muster to cushion your shameless, vital honesty, “I bet she would be proud of what you’re doing… of you .”

You reach into his bag and take out the last remaining present, placing it into his hands so he can be the one to close out the magical evening and deliver the final gift. Joel nods with residual tears in his eyes, “I can only hope.”

“I know,” you reassure him.

The corners of his mouth, downturned in shame and grief, begin to perk up ever so slightly. It sends you over the moon. A staggering leap of growth for Joel are imperceptible steps to others, but you’re always by his side to assure him that there’s nothing wrong with his pace.

You’re the one to wait outside this time while he sneaks in. While he’s disappeared for a few moments, you think about how he used to react when Sarah was brought up - or more likely, when his thoughts brought her to him unprovoked. He’d have brutal panic attacks, where his heart would pound violently in between seizures of oxygen, courtesy of his crippling lungs. He’d be rendered debilitated for days afterward, trying to collect his shattered remains and haphazardly piece himself back together.

But now, as he slowly closes the door behind him and turns to join you, his commendable progress frays your heartstrings. Though his eyes are still hurt and his heart still gives him problems, he’s able to talk about his daughter with unbridled joy . Her memory is no longer an abyss of torturous guilt; it has blossomed to remind him of all the happy days she did have, of what a beautiful soul she was and can continue to be in his heart. He’s realizing that instead of solely mourning her wrongful death, he can carry on her life by spreading the joy she instilled in him all those years ago. You view it as one of the highest honors to hear about her and to be friends with the wonderful man who raised her to be the kind girl she was. Seeing Joel’s misery lessened by any number makes you so happy you could cry.

Joel comes up to you and concern crosses his face, “What’s wrong?”, upon seeing the gleam to your eyes, putting a heavy hand on your shoulder.

“Nothin’,” you say with a shrug and a proud smile, subconsciously parroting his accent.

“Congratulations on another successful year, Santa,” you hold up your hand for a silly high five. Joel obliges with a resounding chuckle. He intertwines his fingers with yours, holding your hand long after the celebration. “Couldn’t have done it without your help,” he mumbles sheepishly, “Thank you.”

Since you were the one picking up Santa’s slack for the most part tonight, you were also the one to take bites of cookies and sips of milk to leave as evidence of your visit. It only dawns on you now that Joel hasn’t had any treats the whole night. What a holiday abomination!

“I think Santa is entitled to his fair share of payment,” you playfully nudge at Joel’s belly and he swats your hand away with a grunt. “I made some cookies of my own, and I have some milk to pair if I’m remembering your tastes correctly.” He shakes his head, rolls his eyes. “Wanna come back to mine for some?”

Joel squeezes your hand in his, “Sure.”

The morning sun still has a few hours left to sleep by the time you and Joel cross your threshold. The house you were gifted in the center of town is small, but it’s a haven nonetheless. When you first moved in, Joel was assigned to check all the inner workings and help furnish, but most importantly he helped you return to yourself: what colors you liked and didn’t like, which way you preferred your living room to be arranged, where you wanted your mugs stored. It was incidental, trivial things, but their impact was seriously underestimated. He helped make the little blank-slate house yours.

He enjoys being in it as much as you do because he’s constantly surrounded by you and the evidence of your habits and patterns. The rings of coffee staining your side table, next to the bookmarked novel on the arm of your couch. The shoes dropped unceremoniously by your front door. The dish towel powdered with the flour of cookies you made earlier, their mouthwatering scent lingering in the air with the dry, residual warmth from your oven. He doesn’t know if he wants to consume you or be consumed by you, but either way he knows one thing: he’s bewitched.

In the kitchen, he leans against the counter as you pour him a glass of milk and plate some cookies. The long night’s energy expenditure has worked up quite an appetite in him, so he doesn’t waste any more time and takes a bite.

“You have to dip it in the milk and let it get soft! They’re best that way,” you offer, but he just waves you off with affectionate annoyance.

From his sloppy eating, a piece of chocolate has smeared itself on his upper lip and into the hairs of his mustache. It makes you smile. Without thinking, you lick the pad of your thumb and bring it to his face to clean it off.

Joel’s lips part, as if with practiced ease, so you can really get in there. It’s so natural , so domestic between the two of you; it’s startling. His eyes are on you and you can feel them, watching you with brazen intensity as you prod the plushness of his lip, but you keep your own gaze focused on your work.

You flicker a fatal glance into his. Joel wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you in for a kiss that’s a strange mix of gentle and intoxicating. Just as it registers in your brain what is happening, he’s breaking away and it makes you want to cry.

“I’m sorry, I should’ve asked first, goddamn fool …” he grumbles to himself. He goes to remove himself from you further, but you pull him right back by the chest of his t-shirt that’s damp with sweat.

“You should’ve.” You press your lips to his with ravenous fervor.

You pull him to the living room, to the chair that he picked out for the space when you first moved in. The soft suede reminded him of you, he had said, and you didn’t realize what his true meaning was until now. His fingertips skim over your exposed skin, addicted, yet tentative in their touch of such preciousness.

You swiftly rid him of the rest of his costume down to his underclothes and he soon follows to undress you until you’re left in your base layers. You’re practically shaking with need, wishing you could take your time with him but you’ve been pining after him all night (really, ever since the moment you laid eyes on him over a year ago.) That goofy costume couldn’t hide his delicious figure and he makes you delirious now that he’s exposed; his broad, inviting chest; his sexy, burly arms; his cute little ass.

He shares your desire’s impatience. He falls onto the chair, pressing against the back. You climb into his lap, straddling his thighs, and wrap your arms around his neck to pull him into you for another desperate kiss.

One of his hands balances you on your hip and the other fumbles with his belt buckle frustratingly. He groans impatiently into your mouth, but your aid is being dispersed elsewhere; your fingers are tethered to his hair, brushing it and grabbing it and pulling it.

Finally he solves the metallic riddle and you both sigh in relief when his stiff length is released, slapping against your thigh. You reach down and stroke him from base to tip a couple times, making his eyebrows scrunch in pleasure. This is going to be quick, you both know it, but that doesn’t mean it won’t be enjoyable.

You’re just as near to bursting as Joel when you sink down onto him, inch by glorious inch. He digs his heels into the floor in preparation to fuck up into you, but you beat him to it and begin to ride. He groans loudly, his arms constricting around your waist and burying his face into your neck. He’s holding you so tight that you can barely move; it makes your thighs burn deliciously with the amount of effort you have to put in to keep up your pace. You work up a sweat to rival his as a fresh sheen breaks out on his brow.

Combined with the heated passion, there’s an enamored twinkle in his eyes, an adoration. One that screams that four-letter L word, the one that his brain wants to profess to you from rooftops but that his heart can’t work up the strength to say it and make it real.

The holidays are run on magic, anyways - you’re content to give him all the time he needs.

“Please, Joel,” you whisper breathlessly into his ear, wanting his body if you can’t have his heart just yet. That does him in; his hips stutter beneath you and his warmth fills you up, radiating up from your core until it tickles the underside of your pounding heart. Your own release is brought on by his sly fingers against your clit and it seizes your movements, rippling in tantalizing waves from head to toe, until you’re reduced to a puddle in his arms and slump against his chest.

Hazy with exhaustion and a potent shot of dopamine, you barely register him tucking a blanket around you before you succumb to some much-needed sleep.

The Christmas morning sun breaks over the horizon a few hours later. Amidst your throes of passion in the darkness of night, you hadn’t realized your front window’s curtains were strewn wide open. You and Joel both startle awake when a particularly harsh sunbeam glints off of a frosty white snow bank, shooting directly into your unprepared pupils.

You bury your face into his chest, groaning with embarrassment, “I really hope nobody starts singing that they saw an elf kissing Santa Claus.”

Your newly minted lover chuckles, wrapping his arms around you and holding you ever closer, “Eh, all the kids were asleep. And if any adults saw…,” he shrugs, “Fuck ‘em.”

Now, your blanketed bodies remain safely hidden from the happy kids running about and cheering in the streets with their new toys. Joel watches on with you, smiling despite the sleep deprivation that prohibits you from even thinking about moving an inch. And with Joel beneath you, surrounding you, why would you?

“You know, I’ve been thinking for a while now…” he continues, running a finger delicately down your cheek, “I’ve been wanting to promote my head elf, but she’s already at the top of my list.”

You poke him in the chest playfully, “Hey, I’m a seasonal worker. Last night was a one-time deal. Well, what happened before we got home was a one-time deal,” you specify.

Your clarification brightens his smile. “How d’ya think… Mrs. Claus sounds?”

Your heart leaps. “Sounds like just what I’ve been wishing for.”

You settle in to watch the rest of the morning unfold, with the joyous kids playing, their contented parents observing, and the snow swirling in the air in dreamy trails.

“Merry Christmas, Joel.”

He presses a tender kiss to your forehead. “Merry Christmas, sweetheart.”

summary excerpt from “‘a visit from st. nicholas” by clement clarke moore

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joelslegalwhre · 11 months

Text

My Riduur

I put translation for the Mando‘a words at the end, so you don‘t get confused but I also have the link to the dictionary right here

Took me long enough to write this 😮‍💨 Thank god my exam is over (and I stressed for nothing, it was actually really easy), so here you go with my first ever din fic, I hope you like it x

pairing // Din Djarin x fem!reader

word count // 1.6k

summary // Mando didn't like it at all that some boy thought he could get close to his wife. He couldn't show with actions that you were his, the helmet prevented that, but he had his own way to show it.

warnings // jealous Din (let‘s still call him Din okay, thanks), pda, established relationship, lovesick puppy energy, protective!din, allusions to smut, Din and reader speaking Mando’a, me having absolutely no clue about Mando‘a grammar, taking the helmet off if you’re married is okay here, okay? Thanks (did I miss something?)

Masterlist// Mando‘a dictionary I used // my kofi 🩷

It felt strange to be sitting here, in a bar on Mos Eisley, surrounded by all kinds of people, droids, and even a few bounty hunters.

It wasn't the feeling of sitting in a cantina that was weird. No, it was more the feeling of not having to accept a job. You were not here to look for one. In the last months you had almost had no break, and now you could finally lean back a little. The thought, of picking out a nice place with Mando for the three of you for the next few days, pleased you.

But before you did that, you just had to have the ship repaired a bit, after it had taken quite some damage.

Mando was still at Peli Motto's place, busy showing her the ship and checking the price for the repair. You had been looking around the bar ever since he left, hoping he'd be back soon. The jobs of the last weeks had been unique, the wages you had collected for them were easily enough to sit back and relax for a few days, even after getting the razor crest repaired.

You were sitting at a free spot at the bar of the cantina and watched the people and other beings talking to each other. Some argued, some laughed with each other.

You wondered how long it would take for Mando to-

"Hey there, gorgeous." someone sat down next to you, interrupting your thoughts.

You looked at the stranger for a moment, eyeing him. He had to be your age, a few strands of his dark hair fell into his face, and his eyes were not only gleaming with a deep blue, but with an extreme amount of confidence. "I didn't expect to see an angel today." he smirked in a way that almost made you laugh. He didn't lack any confidence, that was for sure.

You drew your brows together, and tilted your head slightly as you looked at him.

"Say, does that work on any woman?"

At his next sentence, you were sure he definitely had a drink too much or just a little too much self-confidence to flirt so shamelessly.

"You're not any woman." he winked.

You raised your eyebrows and nodded with an amused smile. "Oh, is that so?" you chuckled lightly.

"You're here with someone?" he asked, leaning closer. You immediately brought some more space between the two of you again, "I am, actually."

"Well, then where are they?" he asked with a grin that told you he didn't believe you. "Right here." you could hear Mando's deep, modulated voice. Your heart made a little jump when you turned your head and saw him walking straight towards you.

If looks could kill, this wannabe bounty hunter would be six feet underground by now. Mando's jaw had clenched when he saw the stranger talk to you. His jealousy stewing at the mere thought of another man looking at you this way. He’d been ready to stomp up to him and place a good, hard punch right at this fool's flirtatious face.

"Me'bana?" Mando asked, looking at you. His hand naturally found its place on your waist.

"Nothing," you leaned a little closer to him, "Kaysh mirsh solus."

Mando's light, breathy laugh made you almost turn into a puddle. 'He's an idiot.' you'd told him in Mando's native tongue, so the stranger in front of you wouldn't understand.

You had learned it when you started to accompany Mando. He was confused at first, to say at least, as to why you'd wanted to actually learn the language. But you wanted to get to know Mando, that included his native tongue. And besides, it was fun, sitting in the razor crest next to him, Grogu on your lap, learning to speak and read the extraordinary language of your Mandalorian.

"Hey, just so you know," said one started again, "Unalike that tin can there, I can show my face whenever, my lips too." he smirked. His obvious confusion about the two of you speaking in a language he'd never heard but knew must've been Mando'a.

You politely declined his request, slowly getting annoyed. "Thank you very much, but I actually really like the tin can right here."

Mando wanted to kiss you so bad, show you off as his, but he couldn't. That's just how it was, he couldn't take off his helmet. He was proud of his religion, it was part of him. You'd probably wouldn't even let him take it off, even if he tried. That was one of the many reasons he loved you so deeply. You respected his religion, tried to understand and learn about it.

And he could always take it off when the two of you were back in the privacy of the razor crest. He loved the curious look on your face every time he did, as if it was the first time you've seen his face.

But the truth was, that you were enamored with his features, the patchy beard paired with the mustache, his brown eyes and the brown curls… You could just never get enough of him.

Even before you two were married, you always loved to play with the ends of his fluffy hair, whenever it was getting longer once again. It was never much, but enough.

He had other ways to make sure everyone, especially the fool in front of you, knew you belonged to him.

"We need to look for our child." he was well aware that people believed he meant a human child when he referred to Grogu as "child" or "kid".

The look on the boy's face made a smug smile appear on Din's face, carefully hidden by the beskar helmet. He was so satisfied with himself, you could practically feel it spill over, and you didn't even need to see his face for it. You just chuckled quietly.

"Next time," Mando said, "watch who you talk to. My wife is off limits, understand?" his voice cold, almost threatening.

The eyes of the stranger widened, hearing the title.

You took Mando's gloved hand from where it was still firmly placed on your waist, and intertwined your fingers with his.

"C'mon, let's go," you smiled up at your riduur. You turned back around to address the guy, trying to sound nice, "It was nice meeting you."

With that, you left him sitting there, Mando‘s grip on your hand tightening in a protective manner, as you left the cantina.

When you were back at the ship, you could see Grogu fast asleep in his pod, "He's the most adorable thing I've ever seen." you say to Mando, looking at the little being with a look of pure love. Mando‘s heart warmed at the sight of you and Grogu. His little odd family.

"Even more than you getting all jealous of that guy back in the cantina." you grinned at him teasingly.

Mando stepped closer to you, his hands on your hips once again. You slung your arms around his neck.

"I wasn‘t-" but he interrupted himself, he was jealous, so much so that he would've loved to take his blaster out of the holster, even if it was just for show. "I was protecting my aliit." Family. You could barely get your fastening heartbeat under control, no matter how many times he'd say it. "I'm all yours, Din."

"Good." he said, and lowered his head. You could feel the cold beskar of his helmet touch your forehead. A Mandalorian kiss. You loved when he showed you his love that way. You closed your eyes, just soaking up the moment. You couldn‘t see it, but Mando had also closed his eyes, his hands still on your waist, he tried to memorize every little detail about this, about you.

After some time, spent taking the other in, after savoring the intimacy, you could hear a content sigh voice through his modulator.

"I'll look after you, always." His hand wandered to your cheek and cupped it gently. “And trust me,” he huffed, "I won't let anyone flirt with my wife like that, cyar'ika."

You grinned up at him. You couldn't wait to be all alone with him, leaving Grogu in the cockpit to sleep, and kiss him. Oh, how badly you just wanted to give his lips a little peck. You settled for wrapping your arms tightly around his armored middle, pressing yourself against his chest.

Mando's arms around your shoulders, he leaned his helmet against your hair. Even if all you could feel was his armor, it was still him. Your Mandalorian. Your husband. "I love you, mesh'la." the modulator had barely picked it up. He'd whispered it into your hair, like he couldn't believe that you were his. That he had the privilege to be the one to hold you… to love you. And to be loved by you.

"You know," you started smiling at him innocently, „since the baby's asleep, I thought you could show me how much. I mean, just so I know-"

"Haav." he interrupted you, his voice low, "Now." This was no plead, no, a demand. You chuckled and started walking to the makeshift bed you shared with him.

Behind you, you could hear him taking off his helmet, and you could barely hold in your excitement to finally see his face again. You had really missed it, although you've just seen him this morning before getting up. His armor followed next, a second later you could feel his arms wrap themselves around you. "Too many clothes." he whispered into your ear, his voice clear without the modulator. It gave you goosebumps all over your body, "Take them off then.".

Mando‘a translations:

ner = my, mine

riduur = partner, spouse, husband, wife

Me‘bana? = What‘s happening? What happened?

Kaysh mirsh solus = He‘s an idiot (lit. His brain cell is lonely)

cyar‘ika = darling, sweetheart

mesh‘la = beautiful

aliit = clan name, identity, family

haav = bed

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