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scottysketches · 7 days

Text

wip wednesday on a thursday

Still working on chapter 4 (nearly done), so here's an excerpt to tide y'all over until it's published :)

—

“Do you know where we’re going?” Korkie asks him later that evening as he brushes his hair back from his face, looking at his father in the mirror. He’s dressed in a smart-yet-casual short sleeved shirt — white with vertical navy and beige stripes — and light blue twill jeans in a tapered fit, with casual sneakers in a blue-grey colour to match.

Obi-Wan glances up at him. “No, I don’t. All your mother told me is that Amis has organised a meal out for your birthday with us, Soniee, Lagos, Anakin and Padmé.” Obi-Wan himself doesn’t keep much in the way of smart clothing, but he does thankfully have a black shirt to match with the dark brown slacks he had worn for the housewarming dinner just a month previous, and a smart-ish chronometer on his wrist. He wears boots similar to the ones that make up the footwear for his regular Jedi attire, but they’re cut off at the ankles. His former padawan had taken Huyang back to the temple some time after lunch, and Obi-Wan had spent the next two hours with Korkie, beginning to teach him the basics of wielding his lightsaber in both its full cross-guard form and its dual wielding stance. He had been pleasantly surprised, and impressed, with how quickly Korkie had adjusted to the lighter weight of the lightsaber, compared to the beskad he had trained with on Mandalore.

Just then, Satine comes out of her bedroom, wearing a light blue floor-length dress that appears to float around her, with a darker blue jacket draped over her shoulders and a black leather purse in her hand. Her heels click on the wooden floor as she approaches them. “Are you ready?”

The men both look at each other, and Korkie shrugs. “I guess so. Where’s Amis? Is he meeting us there?”

Satine nods. “He asked me to drop him off at Lagos and Soniee’s apartment. But he’ll be coming back here tonight.”

They all step out onto the landing platform, the bi-fold doors automatically sliding shut behind them. Korkie whistles appreciatively as a smart black speeder lands at the end of the platform, its doors opening and revealing a plush interior, not visible from the outside due to the tinted windows. “This is a bit swank.”

Satine laughs. “Well, it’s not every day your young man turns twenty.” Korkie grins that familiar lopsided Kryze grin, wrapping his arms around his mother’s slim frame and hugging her tight. She presses a kiss to his cheek, and as they pull away from each other she muses aloud, “You’re all grown up, now. I’d like to think I did a good job.”

“Well, considering the circumstances, I’d have to agree,” Obi-Wan says, one hand rubbing Satine’s shoulders and the other resting on the back of Korkie’s neck.

His son thinks for a moment, and then says quietly, “My first birthday with my dad. That’s something special, in and of itself, I think.” They climb into the speeder, and take their seats as the doors close, the tint on the windows deepening.

Satine opens her purse and pulls out a small ring box. “Here. This is your gift from myself and Bo.”

Korkie takes the small box and flicks it open. Inside is a beskar ring, inlaid with haysian smelt, with a thin band and a wider, round top. (If Obi-Wan recalls correctly, Satine had once told him that such a ring was known as a sovereign ring.) The haysian smelt is embossed in the motif of a lily, the flower that represents Clan Kryze. His son’s eyes widen. “Is this—?”

“Your grandfather’s sovereign ring? Yes,” Satine answers. She looks slightly wistful; Adonai Kryze had been a hard man to please, though Obi-Wan knew that prior to his death he had eventually warmed to the idea of embracing a pacifist stance, to stop Mandalorians from wiping each other out. “After he and your grandmother died, a lot of their possessions at Castle Kryze were sent to me in Sundari. Most I put up for auction — such as my mother’s dresses and jewellery — but I kept my father’s ring, his armour and his beskad.”

“I don’t really remember them,” Korkie says. “They died when I was little, didn’t they?”

Satine nods. “You were only a baby when my mother passed, and you’d just turned one when my father followed her into the manda. We reconciled not long before that day — maybe a month — but he wanted you to have his ring when you turned twenty.”

Korkie removes the ring from its cushioned box and slides it onto his right index finger, testing its weight and the way it conforms to the shape of his finger. Looking up at Satine, he leans in and gives her another hug. “Vor’e, buir.” Satine smiles, smoothing their son’s hair back from his face when they separate.

“So, what did you two get up to, today?” she asks once Korkie has leaned back into his seat once more.

Obi-Wan and Korkie glance at each other. “Oh,” Korkie says awkwardly, “just… this and that.”

His mother’s eyes narrow in suspicion. “Kohav Kryze, you are a terrible liar.”

Korkie winces. “Well, I think the major revelation from a few weeks ago would prove that statement wrong.” But he sighs, folding his arms over his chest. “We, uh, built a lightsaber together with the crystal in my toy tooka. Thanks for not telling me about that, by the way.”

Satine’s eyebrow arches, but she’s unable to hold back a laugh at Korkie’s snarky comment about his kyber crystal. “And where is this lightsaber now, then?”

“It’s in Korkie’s room at the moment,” Obi-Wan says, “but I’ll take it with me to the temple tomorrow and store it in my rooms for safe keeping.”

“What? Why?” Korkie sounds insulted.

Obi-Wan pins him in place with a look. “You need training. I don’t fancy being on the end of your mother’s wrath if you accidentally cut off a limb trying to parry a basic attack.” Korkie pouts, and Obi-Wan is reminded of when Anakin was just a young boy, childishly sulking over not being chosen to travel to the Jedi temple on Ilum for the Gathering as soon as he wanted.

—

Mando'a translations:

Beskad - slightly curved sabre of Mandalorian iron Beskar - Mandalorian iron Manda - the collective soul or heaven; the state of being Mandalorian in mind, body and spirit (also supreme, overarching, guardian-like) Vor'e, buir - Thanks, mum

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veryace-ficrecs · 3 days

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Hey! Would you do an outsider pov list of stuff i havent seen in a while or new stuff if you can find it

you got it! o(*￣▽￣*)ブ

POV Outsider Fic Recs

Avatar

the cain instinct by orphan_account - rated G

In which the Fire Lord is a competent and compassionate leader trying to head a successful international peace summit, but he is also a seventeen-year-old boy. And the Avatar won't stop calling him his great-grandson, and thus is in sore need of a beatdown.

Star Wars

i implore you (it’s time to come back) by HiddenEye - Rated T

And then, the door swings open, with Luke opening his mouth to no doubt tell her off, when he freezes at the sight of the Mandalorian. “You gotta be kidding me.” Luke blurts out, burning a hole into the middle of his new visitor’s head with a vicious frown.

Supernatural

A Missed Connection by hearnopromises - Not Rated

On their way to visit Sam, Dean and Castiel sit next to a young woman on their departing flight from Kansas. Dean thinks the bumblebee pin on her bag would make a perfect gift for his husband. She thinks Dean would make a perfect addition to her bed.

25 and Still Alive by goldenraeofsun - Rated G

Claire steps out of Jay Street Diner with relief. It wasn’t a bad morning shift, overall. She overheard a few out-of-towners gossiping about a weird death a couple cities over that she’ll check out tonight. Outside, she takes a deep breath of air that doesn’t smell like pancake syrup and bacon and pulls out her phone. The screen lights up with no new texts from Castiel, even though he usually makes plans for lunch by now. But no, the last thing he sent her was a link to a video of a cat walking across a piano three days ago. Claire looks up and stops dead in her tracks. The Impala idles next to the curb.

stars & dots by piesexuality - Rated T

The thing is that Jack is a good student. A great student, even.

As the school counselor, Vera’s been trying to make sense of it on her own for awhile. He's such a nice boy, but his behavior is off-putting in a way she can't quite put her finger on. She hates having to bring parents into the equation, but with Jack, she’s reached the point where there’s simply nothing else she can do.

9-1-1

so darlin', save the last dance for me by ashavahishta - Rated T

"I’m wearing a wedding ring! Do I have to get ‘property of Buck Diaz’ tattooed on my forehead?” “Oh, Buck would love that,” Lena laughs. “He really would,” Eddie muses with a grin. “He’d get a matching one. Might help with all the thirsty single parents he deals with at his job.” “Doesn’t he have your wedding photo prominently displayed in his office?” “And like ten photos of us with Christopher, yep,” Eddie agrees. “Doesn’t stop people from trying.” Or: "Eddie Diaz drinks his 'I fucking love my husband' juice for ANOTHER 6,000 words", feat: Dad!Buck, mother hen Eddie, and Pride celebrations with the 118.

with sweet (mis)understanding by cloudyycolfer - Rated T

“You’re a lifesaver, Evan.” “I know.” Buck replies. “It’s in the job description.” Maddie’s eyes are stuck on her brother. “You’re in his will and you still think he isn’t in love with you?” or the one where evan buckley and eddie diaz are keeping their relationship underwraps. (the 118 have their speculations and theories on the truth)

Red Ribbon by AshwinMeird - Rated G

Nell was familiar with the many injury-prone members of the 118 because of her dad's stories from making them cakes but also from being the one running the front of the shop and taking their cake orders. Only this time it wasn't a return to work from an injury cake. This was a getting together cake for two of the firefighters.

Eyes On You by sealeviathan - Not Rated

Hen liked their new probie. Buck was easy to get along with. He had a husband and a son, he was good at his job and helped everyone to the best of his ability. Not only that, but he was actually interesting. He was passionate, funny, caring and he fit well into the team dynamic. Hen was happy with this information - happy with her knowledge of one Evan Buckley. That being said, she really didn't expect Buck to be the disloyal type. But here he was, at a bar, practically drooling over some bartender in front of all of his coworkers. The guy even seemed familiar with Buck. --- Or: The fic where Buck blatantly lusts over Eddie. Hen and Chimney worry they're about to witness a marriage-ending move because Buck failed to mention that Eddie is the man he's married to.

come home to my heart by coupe_de_foudre - Rated G

“Ev?” an unfamiliar voice rings through the room, following the sound of the front door being ripped open, and Bobby’s head whips in the direction it comes from, “Evan Buckley-Diaz, you better be here or so help me God! You’re in serious shit.”

Spider-Man

Five Times Tony Stark's Fabled Intern Just Showed Up + One Time He Was Invited by kingdomfaraway - Rated G

While Leroy didn’t like gossip, he wasn’t immune to it and he’d heard about a young boy claiming to be Tony Stark’s intern showing up randomly throughout the building. He just figured it was some random mystery, a Stark Industries cryptid if you will. Never did he think he’d have a sighting. “Are you Peter Parker?” Leroy questioned, narrowing his eyes at the young boy, looking for any signs of deceit. “Oh yeah, that’s me, hi!” Possibly Fabled Intern Peter Parker reached into his pocket and pulled out a badge and lanyard, this one with his face on it and INTERN written underneath it. “Mr. Stark got me a badge so I can get nachos whenever I want.”

Yuri!!! On Ice

Fill the World with Music by prettybirdy979 - Rated T

It's been a whirlwind of a week for Phichit, not only because of his competing in the Grand Prix Finals. Yuuri seems to have made it his mission to surprise everyone a dozen times over before the end of the competition. But there's only the gala exhibition tomorrow to go. Surely Yuuri (and Viktor) can't manage one more surprise by then? (Aka that fic where Viktor breaks twitter, Yuuri breaks the internet then pretends to not understand, and together they break their friends)

The Time(s) The Internet Collectively Exploded by MEIXIU - Rated T

It started with Victor Nikiforov's departure from Figure Skating to suddenly pursue a career in coaching with a certain Japanese man and then it escalated quickly from then on.

#KissOrHug by Aurum - Rated G

Yuuri and Victor make #Victuri trend worldwide. Phichit accidentally makes it worse.

My fun fact is: by stillmadaboutpetra - Rated G

Yuuri fails to mention to his new non-skater friends who he is or who his husband is. Or that he even has a husband.

How To Train Your Dragon

familiar (but this time i've had some practice) by aloneintherain - Rated T

Every decade, three teenagers are dragged from the future and placed in their younger bodies to give predictions that will set the tone for the next ten years on Berk. But how are three dragon riders supposed to give prophecy to a village full of dragon-hating vikings? (Time travel AU)

Naruto

Sasuke's No Good Very Bad Teammates by GwendolynStacy - Rated T

Naruto and Sakura have gone insane. Or: Just after becoming Team 7 Naruto and Sakura go through a massive shift in personality, leaving Sasuke out of the loop and wondering what in the name of sanity could have happened to them. His only consolation is that Kakashi is just as weirded out as he is.

Batman

The five times Flash came to Gotham for help and the one time he didn't need to (5+1) by Silver_Athena - Not Rated

Barry needs help solving a murder, he goes to Gotham for help. Though he's looking for Batman he seems to constantly run into new heroes. Why do they all seem connected to Batman? --- “You know where he lives?” “I practically live there myself, why is this so surprising to you? You’ve worked with him for- Oh… oh my God, you guys don’t know!"

#veryace asks #avatar the last airbender #star wars #supernatural #911 buddie #911 abc #911 fox #batman #spiderman fic rec #peter parker #how to train your dragon #yuri on ice fic rec #yuri on ice

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liptonwashere · 6 months

Text

requests for edits are always open!

about me

My first name is Samantha. I go by either Sam or Lena; whichever one you like.

I'm a 21 year old self-taught editor from Venezuela. I made BoB and The Pacific edits while trying to survive life, yaaay :)

INTJ 4w5. Aquarius.

Spanish / English

I love calisthenics, Carwood Lipton, music, baking, reading, economics, and editing ofc :)

edits

bob lookscreen

winnix - american teenager

speirs - be agressive!

bob - skyfall

bob - battle of the bulge

speirton

bob - soldier by fleurie

bob - i ain't worried

bob - spanish sahara

speirs - maneater

bob and the pacific parallels pt. 1

george luz - i'll be around

eugene roe - l'enfer

the beauty of band of brothers

john basilone and lena riggi - the ghost of you

masters of the air - in the air tonight

interests/fandoms

🎵 music (all over the place): the smiths, radiohead, dpr ian, kendrick lamar, elvis presley, nothing but thieves, mac demarco, arctic monkeys, muse, taylor swift, lady gaga, nf, conan gray, onerepublic, mitski, taemin, my chemical romance, queen, paramore, troye sivan, hozier, frank sinatra, agust d, jungkook, gemini, monsta x, one ok rock, sabrina carpenter, lana del rey, natalia lafourcade.

📚 books: all quiet on the western front, testament of youth, goodbye to all that, storm of steel, poilu (louis barthas), sassoon's poems, the great gatsby, poe's short stories, crime and punishment, no longer human, the brothers karamazov, frankenstein, the art of war.

�� tv shows/animated series/anime: band of brothers, the pacific, generation kill, hannibal, sherlock, the legend of korra, arcane, hxh, snk, peaky blinders, castlevania, the boys, silo, only murders in the building, brooklyn nine-nine, the office, true detective, the punisher, daredevil, hawkeye, the mandalorian, andor.

🎥 fav movies: the pianist, the godfather, top gun maverick, spirit: stallion of the cimarron, a knight's tale, blade runner 2049, the grand budapest hotel, the dark knight, jojo rabbit, 1917, knives out, sound of metal, parasite, the gentlemen, kingsman, into the spider-verse, hacksaw ridge, sicario, the big short, whiplash, prisoners, inglourious basterds, the winter soldier, good bye lenin!

TikTok

Instagram

Ko-Fi

that's a wrap!

#should have done this a long time ago #this took an embarrassing amount of time

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galactic-star-bruiser · 11 months

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Protected pt. 4

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3 . masterlist

X: picks up after Din tells the reader his name in the forests of Endor.

<3 : @angel-with-a-heart @art2emily

warning: mentions of violence and kidnapping

The mandalorian cleared his throat and let go of me, visor trained on the forest floor beneath us.

I couldn’t help but chuckle as I watched him. It was almost like he... enjoyed holding me.

“Din” I mused, “thats a nice name.”

He didn’t respond to the compliment other than looking at me and I would’ve sworn I could seen warm eyes behind the visor.

The continued rustle of leaves caught my attention a bit more this time, my head whipped toward the direction of the sound. A body emerged.

“Not an animal...” I half whispered in a terrified tone as I watched Din grab his blaster.

The body belonged to a large man and it was followed by two others. It was no question that they were some sort of bounty hunters.

“Hello, gorgeous” one snarled, a long scar across his weathered face stretched as he smiled.

I was pushed behind The Mandalorian, one hand on my shoulder, the other on a weapon aimed between the mans eyes.

Another one of the men raised his hands in mock defeat and chuckled lowly, “Princess... we didn’t know you were so... well protected. Your parents hire him? He might make it a tad bit more complicated to take you now.”

I didn’t answer, but Din did, “if you leave one mark on her there will be no place in the galaxy that you will be able to hide from me.”

The men laughed amongst themselves before pulling their own weapons. Three to one.

“Should I run?” I whispered, on my tip toes in order for Din to hear me.

“No. This will be good practice.”

what?

As fast as lightening, two men were on the ground and Din lunged at what was their supposed leader, a blaster placed in my hands.

“Now!” Din yelled and I shot, the force of the weapon making me stumble slightly.

I hadn’t realized I was holding my breath until he walked back to me. My eyes were wide as I watched the figure of the man slump over in the grass.

“See? I knew you were able to defend yourself” Din chuckled and gently took the weapon from my shaking hands.

“I did it” I whispered, almost to myself. A grin spread across my face, “I did it!”

He took me by my shoulders, body square with his. “Who were they, do you know”

“I don’t know for sure... but I have an idea. We should leave.”

Our little adventure was cut short and once we arrived back at my parents ship, I led Din inside and followed the sound of my mothers voice.

“They’re back” I told her without further explanation and watched her eyes widen.

“Another coup attempt?” My father asked, walking into the small room.

“Maybe” I shook my head, “I think they were planning to take me as ransom. It seemed like they were working on given orders.”

“Not again” my mother mumbled, head in her hands.

“And you- Mandalorian, did you take care of them?” My father asked, annoyed.

“Obviously” Din answered cooly, snarky as ever, hand resting on his blaster and his body relaxed against the door frame.

My father just nodded in his general direction before turning to look at me.

“Do they have any idea as to where our ship is?”

“Probably” Din answered for me, “seemed like we were being tracked.”

Were they even going to ask if I was okay?

“We need to leave” my mother chirped, fear flooding her voice as she pleaded with my father.

“No” he responded.

“No?” I repeated, bewildered, “what if they send more?”

“These are the risks we take in our line of work. We have a political event we have to attend tonight anyways, the good people of Endor are awaiting our arrival as the counsel is holding a meeting.”

“You’re out of your mind” I scoffed.

“And you’re a spoiled brat,” my father spat back at me.

My hands balled into fists, ready to swing, before I felt a familiar gloved hand upon my shoulder ushering me towards my quarters.

A string of curses flowed beneath my breath as I stomped like a child and scowled at the ground.

“I’ll be there, princess, at the event. Don’t worry.”

His voice was sweet and kind, filled with genuine concern for me.

I sighed and let go of the fists I was making, “I know... I’m not scared, more annoyed than anything. They rather take the chance of their only child being held for ransom than be seen badly on any planet.”

“...I’m sorry”

I smiled softly up at him, a wave of appreciation washing over the rage that so often filled my body.

“It’s okay, Din... it’s not your fault. I appreciate how...seriously, you take your job.”

“Youre not just a job to me” he said almost too quietly for me to hear it.

“Then what am I” I asked too quickly, my heart racing.

There was something about this man that I felt so indescribably drawn to. He was valiant, a good bodyguard, a warrior... but it was moments like this where he was kind and gentle towards me that made me want him more than I’ve ever wanted anything. That scared me.

“I’d like to think that we’re friends.”

I guess I could live with that at least.

“Friends” I repeated, smiling up at him, “I’d like that too, Din.”

A sort of pleased sound escaped him, “with all this talk of marriage and attempts of kidnapping you I cant help but be impressed at all the things you’ve had to deal with.”

My cheeks flushed. “Thank you...thats probably the nicest thing anyones ever said to me.”

He chuckled, “Thats depressing, princess. Someone like you should be complimented a lot better than that.”

“Someone like me?” I asked, looking for clarity in his words.

“Yes, someone like you. Strong, funny...beautiful” he choked nervously on the last word.

My eyes grew wide and I searched for anything that would give away his true nature. I scanned his menacing frame clad in armor, his rough hands resting innocently on his blaster, his wide shoulders propping him up against the wall of my room.

“You think I’m beautiful?”

He suddenly straightened his posture, his stoicism returning. “Well, it’s just an observation, nothing personal.”

“Oh?” I sat on my bunk and avoided looking at him, peeling back the frayed skin on my thumb. “Youre relieved for now, I need to get ready.”

I watched as he hesitated before ducking out the door frame.

Nothing personal?

I waited before getting dressed, staring into nothingness. Why did I want his compliments to be personal? All I knew about this man was his name, I couldn’t even see his damn face.

I dragged myself to the chest of clothing I had packed, sorting through dresses and tunics before deciding on one gown in particular. There was something inside of me, gnawing at me, to get the mandalorians attention. I felt like a schoolgirl wanting to impress her little crush.

Long belled sleeves, open shoulders, and shimmering silver material danced its way across my body.

I stepped out of the ship, night falling fast on the green planet. There he was, waiting patiently behind my parents, visor trained on every move I made.

My father smiled tightly before leading us towards where the counsel has set up a sort of meeting hall. It was an open field littered with torches that lit the dim path towards the makeshift stage where I and my family were expected to speak.

I took a seat next to my parents and saw as Din stood out of sight, scanning our surroundings. I called for him to take a place next to me.

“Thats for another counsel member” my father whispered angrily, gesturing towards the seat I wished Din to fill.

“Bite me” I growled back, matching his whispered volume.

His hand twisted my arm back making we wince in pain but I refused to give in, his grip only faltering once another member came to greet us.

Din took his place next to me and I felt him pat my thigh in a reassuring manner but all it did was make my heart race more than it already was. I smiled at him and squeezed his hand before he let it fall back to his side.

The counsel session started and all they did was blow smoke up their own asses until it was my turn to speak.

I walked slowly towards the “stage” and swallowed back all that I really wanted to say. I was courteous and spoke slowly with the poise that was pounded into me ‘since childhood. I thanked the counsel for having us while simultaneously swallowing the bile that entered my mouth with every false compliment.

I took a small bow before exiting to the sounds of clapping; right back to my place next to the Mandalorain... I could get used to occupying a space with him.

“You did well” he whispered, leaning in enough for me to feel the heat of his body under the cold armor.

“Thank you,” I smiled sheepishly, still not quite use to his compliments.

It dragged on for at least another hour, political jargon being thrown back and forth. I listened for anything truly important but it was not no avail.

When the meeting was all said and done I moved to follow my parents back to the ship, but a hand grabbed my arm and stole me from the crowd. It was Din.

“Is everything okay?” I asked, brows knit in concern.

“Yeah, um, yes-“ he hesitated, watching my parents walk off without us, “do you still want to go exploring?”

I gave him a halfhearted smile, unsure of what he meant. I too glanced in the direction of my parents and watched them wave me off before entering the ship. I knew they wouldn’t ask why I was out if I was with Din, so I nodded in agreement.

As if he were holding his breath, a small sound of relief left his lips and he grabbed my small hand in his large one, leading me into the surrounding flora.

“I want to show you something” he said, looking back to make sure I was still behind him even though he never let go of my hand.

We trudged through dark woods, towering trees, and tall grass. I would’ve been scared if it weren’t for the vice grip on my hand.

He led us into a clearing, quiet save the sound of wind through the trees.

“Look up” he ordered in a whisper.

I followed his pointer finger, eyes meeting it in the sky. Millions of stars lit up the inky black night and it was beautiful- if beautiful could even describe it.

“Wow” was all I could mutter, my eyes glittering in pure amazement.

I looked over to see Din’s visor not reflecting the stars, but my own face back at me.

#din djarin #the mandalorian #mando #fluff #mandalorian fic #star wars #din djarin gif #din x reader #angst #mandalorian #protective din djarin #princess #din x princess!reader #part 4

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hapan-in-exile · 1 year

Text

Volume 2 - Post #1: Crystal Palace

Another installment in this ongoing serialized fanfic

Genre: Mandalorian x Fem Reader

Total word count: 1.5K (of 21K total in Volume 2)

Rating: Explicit - smut, language, +18 *NSFW*

______________________________________________

I. “Oh, no, nothing like that,” you smirk. “I’m only passing through.”

Behind the placid smile, you’re a nervous wreck. Driven by compulsion, you inspect the glittering contours of polish painted over your nails and bite at the edges of your cuticles. It's hard to stop yourself from picking at the tiny gemstone sealed beneath the lacquer.

Stop that! It was such an obvious tell.

“Well, miss, you certainly look glamorous enough to be royalty,” the soothing, masculine tenor of the AI assures you.

It’s strange receiving compliments from a disembodied voice. Still, the automated chauffeur being piped into the solitary cabin of your hoverpod is the only company you’ve got while sitting here, stuck in the immovable event traffic.

And, hey, you’re pretty accustomed to flirting with faceless men at this point.

You chuckle, thinking about the Mandalorian's reaction when he sees you. Probably to balk at the ridiculous extravagance of your dress, the jewels, the makeup, everything.

“That’s kind of you to say,” you reply politely.

The palace sits atop the horizon like a second moon, the glow of twilight reflecting its silvery halo across the dancing ocean waters below. The Leefari Sea is truly gorgeous…and the palace? It was composed almost entirely of glimmering white crystal carved into the cliffside above the shore.

But it has only one thorofare leading up to the gates. An expansive tree-lined promenade that had transformed into a parking lot of automated transports.

“How many times will you have to wade through this tonight?” If droids were capable of road rage, this would do it. “Is the whole city going to make their way up to the palace?”

“Everything inside the walls is usually closed off to the public, you understand, so an open invitation onto the grounds…should be spectacular.”

“It's quite a celebration,” you muse, fidgeting with the strands of beads draped around your neck.

“Peace is something to celebrate. The quadrant has been at war since the Empire fell.”

It seems only fitting. Generous in victory, to match how unscrupulous the Nine Houses had been in their pursuit of power.

You check the time. Fucking farrik!

“Just drop me off here. I’ll walk the rest of the way.”

When you step out of the transport, your ankle wobbles precariously the moment your heel catches on the cobblestones. There’s an alarming minute or so before your body remembers how to walk this high off the ground. It’s a steady climb to the gates, but you’re practically carried there by the crowd of people being herded towards the palace grounds.

The gala within was an invitation-only affair, but out here in the royal parks and gardens, the party is open to all. Droids circle amongst the revelers, offering platters of treats and flutes of sparkling libations. No doubt the festivities would continue to grow as the night went on.

The main gate was flung open, silky blue carpet spilling like water down the stairs beneath a steady stream of guests waiting to be admitted. They practically glow in their jewel-tone gowns and dark, elegant suits. Lush cloaks spill over their shoulders, and gilded crowns shine in their hair.

Thankfully, you look ready to step out on the arm of any one of these polished courtiers or dashing captains in regalia. While spending the entire day at the salon probably wasn't necessary, you’re relieved to see it was time well spent. It’s been months since you’ve set foot on an inner rim planet. How would you have known tiaras are back in style?

What you’re most thankful for is the cape. This was described as a mild, sunny season here on Berchest, but perched atop a sea cliff meant the palace was shrouded in coastal fog as soon as the sun had set. A chill, damp breeze whips at your face, sending a shiver across your already tense shoulders.

One of the service droids is able to extricate itself from the boundless river of partygoers to offer you a glass of something rose colored. “Um, no. Thanks, I can’t consume another drop of liquid.” Your bladder is full to burst. “Is there a lobby, perhaps?”

The droid merely emits a series of beeps and whistles.

You see a low wall lined with boxy hedges surrounding the castle gardens. Hugging the edges of the stone perimeter, careful not to catch your gown on the shrubbery, you creep slowly towards a break in the landscaping. From here, you can sit on the ledge and swing your legs over into the private gardens surrounding the main hall.

Walking becomes even more difficult as you try to both tip-toe silently and squeeze your pelvic floor—all while keeping an eye out for anyone who might see you. When you’re far enough away from the hall for the sound of music and revelry to be carried off in the night air, you discover an enclosed pavilion framed by fragrant fruit trees that could provide just enough cover.

You manage the most graceful of positions in your dress—squatting with your heels pressing against the back of your thighs. The sweet release of urination cannot be overstated. It's an art holding your hem out of the frothing spray of piss, but fortunately, this isn’t your first clandestine micturition.

“Yeah, I’m checking it out.” A stern voice mutters close by. “Ahem…miss? I’m gonna need you to stand up, please.”

“Oh—oh shit! Shit, this is so embarrassing!”

“Are you aware that you’re trespassing? This area is not accessible to guests.”

“I’m so sorry.” You laugh, absolutely mortified. “The security line is just taking a million years to clear, and I was desperate.”

“Miss, you're not authorized to be in this area. I’ll need you to wait here with me until I can have someone escort you back to the entrance. May I see your invitation?”

“Please, I don’t want to cause a scene. I’ll be in so much trouble…I mean, you can see I'm clearly not a threat.” You toss the folds of your cape behind both shoulders so he can see your gown.

“What’s your status, Sector Nine?”

It's backless, cut down to your navel and up between your thighs, leaving no doubt that you are entirely naked beneath the whisper-thin fabric. “Where would I even hide something under this?”

“Sector Nine?”

“Maybe you should check?” You arch an eyebrow suggestively. “Just in case…”

The guard furtively looks over his shoulder at a perfectly round hole in the facade’s delicately carved rondels—exactly to where the security camera must be. Taking one, two steps forward, he moves out of range.

“Sector Nine is secure,” he says brusquely into the comlink strapped to his wrist.

“Got it!” Nito's voice rings in your earbud.

“Must be an animal,” the guard says flatly into the mic. “Trying to eat the sensors…” he sighs convincingly. “I’ll chase it off and reset the connection.”

Then, he steps entirely off-camera.

“Perfect,” Nito cheers.

Head tilting to take you in from every angle, the palace guard stops short a few feet from where you’re standing. “What brings you here tonight?”

“Work.” You say smoothly, letting him draw his own conclusions.

“There’s a way back into the palace through the kitchen cellars. I could take you.” Reaching out a hand, he beckons you towards him.

Your fingers slide into his gloved palm right before you trip on the uneven ground, pitching you forward. When the guard pulls you against him to stop your fall, you wrap an arm around the back of his neck to steady yourself.

That’s when you drop him unconscious.

He collapses to the ground like a sack of bricks. You crouch down, the fabric of your gown pooling around you. Reaching into his jacket, you pull out the transceiver he’s carrying in his pocket. In your clutch is a splicer to link Nito to the palace's communications network.

“I’m in,” the Ardennian says smugly. “Phase One is complete.”

You check the time again.

What to do with the body? You glance around stupidly for someone to tell you what to do. But this is your mission. You’re the one who has to decide what happens next. Nothing to do but drag the unconscious guard behind a bush and hope for the best. You tuck both of his feet under your arms and pull with every ounce of strength you possess—stumbling in your strappy sandals a few times.

Slipping off your cape, you drape it over the guard’s limp body in an arrangement that makes it seem like he could be passed out drunk, sleeping off the night’s excesses.

That’s when you hear the sound of gravel crunching under nearing footsteps.

Before you can draw in another breath, there’s a shift in the air, the susurration of movement from behind. You whip your head around, but a large, firm hand clamps down over your mouth.

His heavy body presses against the length of your spine. An elbow settles across your chest while another slides over your waist, hauling you backward into a trellis of cascading vines.

“Shhh,” he whispers against your ear in that rough, modulated voice. “It’s me.”

As though he might be some other man you know, wearing gauntlets and a Beskar helmet.

***********************

Read the next post: Post #2: Performance Art

Back to Volume 2 - All posts

#sexymando #mandalorian x you #mandalorian x reader #mando smut #mando x reader #mando x you #the mandalorian smut #sexy mando #din djarin #mando fanfiction #mandalorian fanfic #mandalorian smut #the mandalorian #star wars smut #din djarin smut #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader

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polizwrites · 11 months

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WIP Update - 7 Jun 2023

Another super-productive writing week, at least when it comes to new ficIets! I touched 11 fics (2 WIPs & 9 new works) for a total of 4309 words - my highest weekly total of the year so far!

On Ao3, I posted:

Chapter 8 of Never More to Go Astray - my Stuckony Star Wars fusion WIP with Jedi!Steve, Mandalorian!Bucky and bounty!Tony.

Unsealed Fate - Angsty Stony Soulmate AU

A Private Performance - Steve & Tony Music AU

On Tumblr I posted:

Reclamation - Stony Tattoo artist AU (and alternate version of CTRL+Z)

Coffee, Tea or Me? - Stony innuendo-filled Flight Attendant AU

Keeping All My Secrets Safe Tonight - Stony James Bond-style Spy AU

Potential for Retribution - Bucky POV Wingfic AU - will tie into Half of the Flesh and Blood That Makes Me Whole

Dressing for the Occasion - Established WinterIron with mild D/s

Where Will He Be Tomorrow? - young!Tony self-discovery with help from Natasha

A Shift in Their Relationship - Established WinterIron shapeshifter AU

Tony Stark’s Pride 101 - WinterIron Pride fluff

I have 13 active WIPs with my current deadlines being the Bucky Barnes Connect Four Alt-Juniverse event, the WinterIron Pride Prompt Party and Choose Your Own Stony Story, all of which wrap up at the end of June.

See below cut for what I’m working on/planning to work on - arranged more or less by bingos/challenges/etc. As always, feel free to send me prompts or plot bunnies as well as asks regarding any of these projects or any other WIPs I’ve got out there. Interaction really helps feed the Muse and keep me motivated!

Seek & Destroy Collab

After reading @psychiccatpanda‘s amazing Morguna and the Green Queen, I got the itch to explore the Soldier’s POV and talked Faustie into collab’ing with me! We’re working on a new part of the series, and I’ve contributed about 900 words towards the 2500-ish we have so far. Going to see if I can squeeze any of my BBB squares into this fic.

Stucky Bingo Round Four [SB_R4] (Ends 31 May 2023)

Thanks to a last minute drabble and the adoptable - I managed an assisted blackout with twenty-five fills! Masterpost link

* I4 - AU: Changed into an Animal - I threw together Avian Avengers - a drabble where the Avengers’ bird forms are revealed - with some being more obvious than others. It’s a true drabble at 100 words.

Avengers Bingo Round Four [AvB_R4] (Ends 2 June)

Managed a blackout for this 3x3, card by writing different pairings for my two favorite Avengers - Tony and Steve. Masterpost link.

* B2 - Crossover AU – posted Chapter 8 of my Star Wars fusion Stuckony fic: Never More to Go Astray. It came in at 1106 words and I (hopefully) only have one more chapter to wrap the fic up.

Stony AUniverse Daily Drabbles & Doodles [Ends 3 Jun]

This fun event hosted by @stonyauniverse presented a week’s worth of AUs that you can then combine with one (or more!) of three prompts to create a drabble or ficlet or a quick sketch. I was able to write something for each day for a total of just over 1800 words and have been posting them here on Tumblr. I will eventually be sharing these on Ao3, with the potential of expanding on one or two of them should the Muse cooperate.

Unsealed Fate - an angsty Soulmate AU established Stony ficlet

A Private Performance - a music AU Stony ficlet - platonic leaning toward romantic

Who’s Oblivious Now? - a College AU Stony drabble with bonus WinterHawk mention.

Once Bitten, Not Shy - Stony Werewolf AU - one night stand leading to more

Reclamation - Stony Tattoo artist AU (and alternate version of CTRL+Z)

Coffee, Tea or Me? - Stony innuendo-filled Flight Attendant AU

Keeping All My Secrets Safe Tonight - Stony James Bond-style Spy AU

Choose Your Own Stony Story (CYO_SS] - Ends 29 Jun]

Another fun event hosted by @stonyauniverse - this one uses flow charts where you choose a starting point, a genre and a prompt and are then assigned an AU and a trope to create a fanwork that incorporates all four into a single work. I was challenged to combine the following: AU: Med School, Hurt/Comfort, Miscommunication, and Bathing. Blind Luck is coming in at 825 words at the moment. It will will need a bit of trigger/warning tagging (cadavers & eye trauma) but am holding on to it until I get my Tony Stark Bingo card later this month to see if I can incorporate any of those fills as well. 😁

Bucky Barnes Connect Four Alt-Juniverse Event (BBE_C4)[ends 30 Jun 2023]

Signed up for this event over at @buckybarnesevents - you get a four-square card featuring ideas for AUs. The prompts can be used as stand-alones or combined with each other or other events. Thanks to crossovers, I finished out one card and have a WIP that combines 2 square and an idea to combine the other two. .

* C1 - Interior Designer - combining this with my Gender Swap square for a continuation of Shifting Alliances - domestic Bucky/Maria (bonus Peggy/Steve) fic. This ficlet came in at 639 words and will post by the end of the month..

* C2 - Gender Swap - see above

* C3 - Professor/Student -- Possible continuation of Technicalities from Bucky’s POV - could combine nicely with my FWB square below.

* C4 - Friends with Benefits – I may combine this with my BBB Never the Fall that Kills You square and/or Professor/Student above.

WinterIron Pride Prompt Party [WI_PPP] (Ends 30 Jun)

This is a daily prompt event hosted by the WinterIron Discord server that will be running all month. I’m shooting to write something for at least half of these and have completed five prompts with Tumblr ficlets so far: Day 1: First Meetings = Potential for Retribution; Day 2: Yearning = Dressing for the Occasion ; Day 3: Gender Euphoria = Where Will He Be Tomorrow? Day 4: Dragons are Gay = A Shift in Their Relationship; Day 5: Fluidity = Tony Stark’s Pride 101

Hot Bucky Summer [BBE_HBS] (Ends Aug 30)

Another @buckybarnesevents event, this time with weekly smexy prompts. I’d like to complete at least two fics per month for this challenge.

Week One: “What should I wear?” + Collar - Posted Dressing for the Occasion to Tumblr on the second as a crossover with the WI_PPP Yearning prompt as well as last week’s Flash Fiction Friday prompt [#FFF203 Yes Sir!!] . It came in at 325 words and will get posted to Ao3 before the event ends.

Week Two: “What Should I Call You?” + Alpha - combining this with the ACB June Monthly Mission AU: Sugar Daddy as well as the Knot In My Name Anti-AI A/B/O event prompts: Sugar Daddy AU. Tentatively titled A Sugar-Coated Pill, up and coming politician Alpha!Bucky starts a sugar daddy/sugar baby relationship with a young omega!Tony. But both of them have secrets they’re hiding. It’s up to 637 words and will get posted to Ao3 by the 14th - but may go multi-chapter :: shrug::

All Caps Bingo [ACB_R1] (Ends 30 Sep)

I’ve got twelve completed fics, two WIPs and will be pursuing the One Fill, One Bingo Challenge for Row 5.

* I1 - Mutual Pining - may combine with something on my BBB card - see if the Centerfold fic idea fits in here.

* G1 - Isaiah Bradley - Planning to add more to The Fist, Defeated. (possibly present day)

* O3 - Pararescue Sam Wilson - may try to squish this into an expansion of A Rising Star - a previous Flash Fiction Friday fill.

Sam Wilson Bingo [SWB_R3] (Ends 15 Oct 2023)

I have three fills and one WIP - I need to work on cross fills between this and the All Caps and Bucky Barnes bingo!

* G3 - Joaquin Torres - see ACB Pararescue Sam Wilson above.

* O2 - Steve Rogers – see AvB Dog Tags above.

WinterIron Bingo - [WIB_R1] (Ends 16 Dec 2023)

I have seven fills completed and three WIP for this brand-new bingo event that I’m helping mod! Along with crossfilling against my other bingos, I’m going to try to combine my B column squares for the Iron Soldier badge (complete a bingo with a single work). – Alpha Tony Stark, “That was not my intention.”, James Rhodes,Alpine loves Tony and Blind date.

* N1 - Bucharest – I think I can fold this into a future chapter of My Love is Vengeance - where a young!Tony and a recovering!Bucky have been kidnapped by Hydra, who still thinks Bucky is the Soldier.

* G4 - AU: College Students – looking to expand Beaten to the Punch with some backstory on Bucky and Tony as science camp counselors to fit with this square - will also cross over with my WFB Volunteering Together square.

* O5 - Gentle – use this poem as inspiration?

* ADOPTABLE1 - 1990′s – picked this to prod me into picking My Love is Vengeance back up. Chapter 4 is in draft form at 1492 words and will be posted on 6/9; Chapter 5 is in progress at 719 words. I have some decent notes that should allow me to finish this up in six or seven chapters total.

Bucky Barnes Bingo - [BBB_R5] (Ends 10 Jan 2024)

Am still trying to match up squares to crossfill, but have five fills, three WIPs and a couple more Vague ideas already.

* B4 - Shapeshifters - wrote . A Shift in Their Relationship as a crossover with the WI_PPP prompt Dragons are Gay. This came in at 404 words and will be posted to Ao3 before this event is over.

* U2 - Clint Barton/Hawkeye - Dredged up my year-old Winter Soldier/ young Clint WIP You Can’t Stop It With a Gun. Chapter 3 was already in progress and is now up to 548 words.

* C2 - Yelena Belova – The plan is to use this prompt in the next chapter of Peresmešnik, (aka Three Avengers and a Baby) , which is currently sitting at 1100 words (400-ish of which are mine).

* C5 - Marriage of Convenience/Pretend Couple - next chapter of Lady Natasha’s Consort and Lord Steve’s Companion. Not quite sure where to take this next at the moment. 😕

* K3 - Magic - Aro!Bucky sickfic idea?

* Y2 - [image: IW Bucky with the good hair] Last week’s Flash Fiction Friday prompt [#FFF198 What Comes Next] was a perfect match for an idea I’d already been playing around with to fill this square. I banged out Getting Prepared -(updated title = Preparations) an A:IW missing scene set between the time that T’Challa and Okoye come for Bucky and the moment he sees Steve again. I will post it to Ao3 sometime in the next month or so.

* Y3 - Alpine - see WIB Iron Soldier combo.

* Y4 - Forgotten Things - I may use this for Chapter 2 Half of the Flesh and Blood That Makes Me Whole, a Bucky POV remix of at least the first part of Take What Was Wrong (And Make it Right), which is current sitting at 52 words. I’m expecting at least one more chapter, possibly two, depending on how far I want to take the remix.

Warm and Fuzzy Bingo - [WFB] (no end date)

I got my card from @warmandfluffybingocards back in February but really hadn’t done much with it - however, I’m picking it back up for some crossover possibilities!

* N4 - Affectionate Teasing – I can fill this with Starting Something New , but am going to hold off on posting to Ao3 until the next Tony Stark Bingo round starts. 😁

* O5 - Volunteering Together – see WIB AU: College Students

————

On other creative fronts: I have an Mothman Stuffed With Character figure in progress. I am prepping for a con in June so am pretty well booked up through the middle of this month.

That said, if you’re looking for one of a kind gifts for birthdays or other celebrations later in the year, check out Stuffed With Character over on Facebook for a full list of my designs (now over 100!). These soft stuffed figures are mostly Marvel and monsters, but I have some Star Wars, Star Trek, DC and Disney figures as well. Plus I love to take custom design requests for any fandom!

#writing stuff #WIP Wednesday #WIP Update #Shameless Self Promo

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canisfuria · 3 years

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(( aight i’ll either be back late tonight with replies, or tomorrow morning.

a reminder and apology that my inbox glitched out the other night, and seemingly deleted like.... everything in my inbox. new and old memes included. i’ll be reblogging one or two others thru today, but i apologize if any of you’d been waiting on a meme. i have no idea how to retrieve them. ))

#.LUNCH BREAK ( ;ooc )#(( TONIGHT'S THE LAST EP OF THE MANDALORIAN AND MY ROOMMIES N' I HAVE A LITTLE WATCH PARTY PLANNED #I MADE LIGHTSABER PRETZELS.... ONE OF THEM MADE A SARLACC PIT CAKE... ONE OF THEM MAKING HOLOCRON MEATBALLS..... .. .... .. . . ...#and we just hooked the one who hadn't seen it on TCW:TS so there is the chance that we're gonna continue our watch afterwards #in which case.... i won't be here tonight lmfao #highkey thinking abt bringing back old TCW muses. /kai's ahsoka always makes me consider/...... ))

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tatooinejedia · 3 years

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peeks m’head in

#i watched the mandalorian tonight and luke muse perked up #oh hello luke?#let's see if i can hang onto him #++ ooc ++

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kareenvorbarra · 4 years

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i’ve been going back and forth with myself a lot about whether or not to watch the mandalorian - it looks pretty good, the characters look cute, i think i would enjoy it on its own, but i can’t fully separate it from the other fictional mandalorians and based on the little i know about the show i’m worried that the mandalorians i care about might have been killed off in order to drive the plot of this new show starring a random man

i read a few episode summaries to see if that would help me decide, and tbh the stuff i read is making me even more nervous...this “great purge” thing really sounds like it could mean “all the interesting mandalorian women you love are dead” and i don’t want to get invested in the show if there’s a good chance that’s going to turn out to be true. can anyone who’s seen the episodes offer me any consolation or confirmation on this subject? is that how the great purge comes off in the show, or is it more ambiguous?

#don't reblog.....just comment or idk message me if you REALLY need to #also apparently the main character was rescued from droids by death watch as a child which. sighs #their prerogative if they want to make death watch a little less pure evil i suppose but i will never not despise them with all my heart #remember the episode where they enslaved local teenagers from a planet they were camped on and murdered one of them in front of her family?#i fucking hate pre vizsla #anyway the super strict warrior code mandalorians aren't my favorite iteration #and neither are the war-obsessed conquest driven 'we're more powerful than others which gives us the right to rule them' mandalorians #i know satine's political philosophy has nine million flaws but it so easy to see how she turned out the way she did given her backstory #and what she was up against #nobody who shows up on rebels falls neatly into these boxes which is why i loved them so much in rebels #and why i'm super bummed at the prospect of all that work being undone off-screen #it would really cheapen the clone-wars-to-rebels female-character-driven multi-generational trauma arc #i still think clone wars did satine dirty but the way bo-katan and sabine's arcs unfold in rebels s3 at least built on it #satine and sabine never met and sabine was raised to hate satine and yet the narrative parallels between them are so stark #and bo-katan is there bridging the gap #i might delete this later sorry i'm just out here having wild star wars-induced mood swings tonight #fandom musings

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newtie-patootie-bootie · 3 years

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Masquerade (Prologue)

Summary: This is your third season and your aspirations on finding love are dwindling but news on Lady Whistledown’s society pages say that there is to be a foreign royal in attendance to the season. Could this royal dignitary be the one you’ve been waiting for, or could there be a mysterious stranger lurking in the shadows, waiting to pluck your heart for his?

Disclaimer: I do not own Bridgerton nor The Mandalorian- all rights go to the owners and creators of their separate stories.

Warnings: None just yet, enjoy my writing as I lead up to the story!!

|| Please do not repost or plagiarise my work ||

| Chapter 1 |

“Dearest, have you read the newest Lady Whistledown?” Your mother burst into the drawing room with a flurry of her skirts, clutching the article in her fist as you, your brother and your father took in her frazzled form.

Her eyes were alight with excitement and she was nearly vibrating with delight, “no, Mama. I haven’t.” You answered her, eyebrows pulling together gently and she barrelled forward, slapping the scandal sheet in your hand.

You abandoned your needlepoint on your lap and opened the reports gingerly, perusing the freshly printed words with increasing distress:

‘In related news to this year’s promising season, my dearest reader- my sources say that a discreet candidate was called on by the Queen herself!

In a show of good faith and generosity to the newly signed trade agreements between the Crown and the elusive, yet breathtaking realm of Mandalore; it seems that this mysterious suitor has touched foot on our verdant lands in search of one of this season’s blossomed flowers to pluck for his own.

I have heard that this particular aspirant is eager to secure an acceptable match, perhaps with the season’s named Incomparable?

Or, perhaps there will be a sweet winter blossom that bloomed so richly as she was presented to Her Majesty, the Queen for her third season. Could the magnificent daughter of the Duke and Duchess of Wintere snatch such a lucrative title from Miss Daphne Bridgerton?

I so do adore a good rivalry between two influential families and as such, I would like to express my most exuberant notions of good fortunes to each family and may the best woman win.

This intrepid author would also like to disclose that there should be a number of severe competitors at the Danbury Ball this evening- and even worse, bloodthirsty mama’s charging forward with energetic hopes to secure the prospects of such an exceptional suitor.

After all, it is not everyday you are offered the chance to become a Queen.’

“She has named our dearest daughter a ‘winter blossom’, no doubt in reference to our family crest, darling!” Thomas’ eyebrows lifted at the high praise and yes, it was true. The family crest consisted of blooming hellebores and a snowy owl taking flight. “She also named our daughter to be a worthy adversary of the season’s Incomparable, Daphne Bridgerton!” Elaine gushed, taking a seat beside her husband and her skirts pooled with the air trapped but she seemed nonplussed as did Thomas who watched her with an adoring smile. “Isn’t that wonderful, darling?”

“I’d consider that a high honour indeed!” Thomas boasted proudly, raising his teacup to you and a sigh left your lips, ever world-weary.

“Looks more like a wilted weed to me.” Your brother teased and earned a reproachful stare from your parents, Ryder shrugged off the blistering glare from your mother before turning back to his book.

“Mama,” you implored, the paper crinkling in your tight grip, “do not put any stock into Whistledown’s scribblings- she has a tendency to exaggerate and her words incite challenge when there is no need for it.” You scoffed, tossing the offending scrap on the plush cushion beside you, “she has surely just made Daphne and I targets for the 200 other girls for the entire season!”

Ryder stood from his place across the room and moved closer, snatching the crinkled sheet from the pillow and plopped himself down, taking in its contents for himself, “Cressida Cowper is going to eat you alive, dearest sister.”

“Please do not remind me of Cressida Cowper, do I not appear distressed enough for you to cease your mistimed jibes, brother?” Your tone heightened, echoing somewhat in the drawing room.

Ryder’s smirk softened into a worried frown and took your hand in his in a soothing fashion, soft thumb massaging the space between your knuckles, “apologies, sweet sister. I only wished to make light of your situation for your own piece of mind.”

Sighing, you whispered your own apology at your sudden snap and you hummed softly in thought before a mischievous grin curled against your lips, “if anyone should feel concerned about Cressida Cowper’s intentions, I would think you to be more perturbed than I, older brother. The heir to the Duke of Wintere, a monumental promise of success to any willing debutante, I’m certain.” Ryder shuddered at the thought of the ill-mannered girl setting gladiatorial eyes on him and the notion of the high prospects he would bring to the mart. Immediately abandoning your hand, he burrowed himself deeper into the seat beside you and flicked the sheet out dramatically.

It was an indiscreet attempt to occupy his mind elsewhere as he kept his eyes firmly on the black print, yet he took not one word of the information in.

“Darling, this is good.” Your mother’s voice gently eased you from you and your brother’s banter as she reached forward and took your hand in hers, “this means that suitors will now take notice of you, and if this king hears word of your beauty in Whistledown’s musings, then I believe we should all be thankful to the woman, do you not agree?”

Your fingers curled around hers but your eyes remained downcast at your half-sewn needlepoint and you sighed softly, “I don’t see the need for such articles to be published. There will be enough dramatics to satisfy the weak-minded all season.”

“Your mother and I only want what is best for you, little owlet.” Your eyes raised to meet Thomas’, his gaze warm, tone loving as he levelled you with an adoring smile, “if it eases your mind, I have come across some news of this new ruler during my time at the club. I have heard he is just and fair. An honourable gentleman if somewhat mysterious as Lady Whistledown reports. You have nothing to lose by dazzling him with your grace and charm- but you have everything to gain if you succeed in wooing him. You have no need for tricks or deception to win the attention of any suitor, for you are perfect just the way you are.” Tears blurred your vision, threatening to slip down your cheeks. Your frown turned into a watery smile as your father placed his warm, large hand over you and your mothers, “and I shall be there to protect you and only agree to a match deserving of a jewel such as yourself.”

You sniffled back the forming tears before smiling warmly, “thank you, Papa.”

“There is no need for gratitude, dearest. This is a father’s duty; one I aim to fulfill to the highest regard-” Your father’s words were cut short as one of the servants walked into the drawing room.

“Your dresses have arrived, Your Grace, my Lady.”

“Ooh!” Elaine shot up from her seat, clapping in excitement before grabbing your hand and hauling you upstairs to your room, “we must find the perfect gown for tonight’s fete!”

Your sputtering and half formed protests carried down the hallway as Thomas opened the newspaper that had been sitting untouched in his lap, chuckling indulgently, “ever the child, your mother.”

Ryder shook his head in amusement, a smile curling his lips.

"Have you read the newest Whistledown? Foreign royalty searching for a suitable bride? I suspect this season will turn out to be exemplary.”

"I heard that this King's treasury is one to rival the Crown itself."

"I heard he has a son, yet there is no mother that has come forward to claim the child. A most scandalous affair, indeed!"

"I heard that their land is rich in minerals. Some type of iron that is nigh indestructible! I'd wager it'd fetch a high price."

"Daphne Bridgerton locked in a violent competition with the Duke and Duchess of Wintere’s daughter? How delicious."

"I have never heard of this Mandalore, is it near Scotland?"

You were barely able to contain your ire for the gossiping hounds polluting the air of the ballroom.

Your jaw ticked imperceptibly and you fought the urge to roll your eyes so hard you would be able to see the back of your head.

Their whispers were anything but that as you walked past each intrusive mama and daughter as they revelled in the rumors etched in the latest scandal sheet authored by Lady Whistledown, containing information of a supposed king attending the ball.

Your eyes scanned the ballroom and made contact with the youngest Featherington- carving a path for her, her rounded figure swathed in a bright, eye-catching yellow gown that suited her complexion and figure little, yellow beads and jewels glittering in the lights overhead.

You caught her eye and her shy demeanor slipped somewhat as she smiled, excited to see a familiar face and you curled your arm through hers and locked them together, “why have I not seen you on the dance floor, Miss Featherington?” You asked and Penelope sighed.

“I am just admiring the view, Lady Dalton,” you raise one brow at the title and her tiny frown curled into an indulgent smile as she corrected herself and called you by your given name, “you seem to have taken the room by storm when you joined the dance floor, every bachelor here has his eyes on you and Daphne tonight. I would think many of the suitors here are bursting at the seams for your hand- and it is your third season as well.”

“No doubt to Lady Whistledown’s meddling, I’d wager. I have already entertained enough male suitors tonight. I shall take my leave of them for the time being,” your tone changed to a slight whine which served to incite Penelope’s rich giggles, “have you taken your turn about the room?”

“I’m afraid I am not as carefully provided for as you, my Lady. Father has decided to forego these events and my mama is not quite so attuned to my aspirations to ensure a well-rounded tour.”

“Well, then, allow me, Miss Featherington.” You hummed politely, smiling brilliantly at the shy girl who returned the gesture just as brightly and you led the way about the hall. Nodding your head politely to every suitor that greeted you, you curled closer to Penelope, “I see your mother is surveying the hall with Lady Cowper and Lady Edgecomb.” Penelope’s world-weary exhale betrayed her true thoughts and you ran a soothing line along the back of her hand with your thumb, “the determination of rumormongers is indeed boundless, are they not? Perhaps, we shall next be blessed with the sight of them suspended from the rafters with ear trumpets to survey even the most meagre pieces of gossip.” Penelope giggled, covering her mouth with her hand daintily as she did so, bowing her head.

“Ah,” Anthony Bridgerton exclaimed, his arm encircled with Daphne’s as they stepped in front of you, “Miss Featherington, Lady Dalton.”

“Penelope,” Daphne spoke your names warmly, her bright smile widening as she curtseyed perfectly.

“Lord Bridgerton, Daphne.” You and Penelope greeted in unison, curtseying elegantly though you felt your arm tense as Penelope teetered on her feet in an attempt to keep her balance. You rose rather quickly to save her any embarrassment, “how fares the hunt, Daphne? Many of the most eligible suitors have presented themselves at this fete, don’t you agree?”

“Oh yes, my Lady.” Anthony spoke over his sister, answering for her. “Quite a well-rounded affair. Why, I can count every worthy bachelor on each finger of my left hand.” Daphne stared at her brother, aghast but your tinkling laughter could not be hidden with a well-placed hand over your mouth.

“I could only hope that you could spare a finger for my own brother, my Lord? Is he not worthy of your high praise? I would hate to inform my father of this scandalous news!” You teased slyly, a sparkle of mischief in your eyes as Anthony chuckled.

“Of course, my lady. Ryder Dalton, heir to the title Duke of Wintere is honest and true. A man worthy of the title he will one day inherit.” You bowed your head gracefully at the praise.

“Did you read the latest entry of Lady Whistledown’s scandal sheet?” Daphne asked, head inclined slightly in question and your lip curled in irritation, earlier humor forgotten.

“Unfortunately, dearest Daphne. What does this author hope to accomplish by sowing dissension among peers? It is only going to be harder for us if we are to be locked in this invented rivalry until the season ends. Not to mention that all other 200 fine young women will see us as common adversaries to quarrel for a desirable bachelor.” You shook your head and sighed wistfully.

“Perhaps, Lady Whistledown’s sources were incorrect in their counsel. I have yet to see a comely King from a foreign land in our midst.” Daphne teased and you chuckled, nodding as you looked about the room but gazed over no fanfare nor buzzing enthusiasm.

“Nor a royal guard. What do you think, Penelope?” You hummed and the young woman beside you almost wiggled with excitement to be counted.

“I believe that Lady Whistledown is breeding a development early in the season to incite challenge.” You voiced a wordless agreement and Penelope continued, her fingers still clinging to yours, “Her Majesty is one to be enthralled and I would think that the public invitation to this monarch of Mandalore is an attempt to bring about said excitement.” Penelope’s curls bounced around her rounded face as she spoke and you took her words in with great thought.

“A compelling view, if I ever heard!” Anthony complimented and Penelope bowed at Anthony’s flattery, “if you ladies will excuse us, we still must take our view of the room.”

“Ah, we shall keep you no longer! Happy hunting, my Lord. Good luck, Daphne.” You sympathised genuinely and Daphne huffed in agreement as her brother pulled her away. “That was excellent, Penelope. Sharp wit, indeed!”

Your words were met with sweet giggles from your friend as you continued your turn about the room, dance cards dangling delicately from your gloved wrists in and quizzed Penelope on the memory of her miniatures, impressed with her skill to point out each suitor with ease.

Once Penelope tired of walking, she took her rest by the edge of the dance floor and you bid her luck before striding to the refreshments table in search of a beverage to quench your thirst.

Your eyes remained locked on the small glasses of lemonade, unbothered with taking care in your surroundings- you were shocked to feel someone knock into you rather forcefully. You stumbled, unable to right yourself and you could feel your traitorous feet tangle around each other.

Time seemed to slow to a complete stop, though your mind ran freely and aware. A frisson of fear crackled down your spine at the premature embarrassment of the predicament you were just about to drop yourself in just as you felt strong hands slip against your back, righting you almost as quickly as your legs betrayed you.

“Oh, goodness, please do excuse my-” your apology trailed off into stunned silence as you took in the unfamiliar man you could call your savior. This stranger that had his arms around you in a most improper fashion and you know you should untangle yourself from his touch immediately but the heat of his large, ungloved hands bled into the exquisite material of your gown, through your corset and seared directly into the flesh of your arched back.

His clothing was much the same of every suitor attending, nothing unique or flamboyant to stand out amongst the countless other candidates. The slight crinkles in his suit brought an air of indifference- as if he cared little for the state of his dress. What persuaded you to fully take in his form, was his sun kissed, bronze skin that shone deep in the synthetic light of the chandelier accompanied by the ornate lights mounted on the wall; so striking and different from the many men that boasted pale complexions and youth.

You could see the ruggedness in the etchings in his skin, the lines that betrayed his advanced age compared to the others in attendance. The hair atop his head was rich and dark with slight streaks of gray, airy soft curls that adorned his head like a crown, wild and untamed. The same dark hair that graced his head, also carved around his jawline and upper lip, small patches of hair scarce in some places- so unlike the pronounced fashions in high society and you found yourself preferring the unkemptness. His eyes were a harsh change from the softness of his hair, striking and bold. They glittered like dark gems in the gentle lights as he perused your features, intelligent yet curious as he took you in with a cool countenance and thick brows pulled together in an expression of concern.

A prominent nose curved down with a hooked slope, rather large but it suited him and you fought the urge to caress the curved bridge with your fingertip. Pink lips parted, thin but pillowy as the tip of a red tongue slipped between to hydrate the slightly chapped flesh.

It set him apart from the rest, a beauty you so desperately wished to explore.

Just as you studied this unfamiliar man, he also took your form in.

His gaze was not leering like many of the bachelors loitering about the room- nor a lecherous grin curved those sinfully soft lips as he drank in your appearance with ease, noting every detail and micro expression with rapid ease and forced himself to cease the ever growing notion to tighten his arms around you, drag you closer to his chest when he felt the way your body curled into his touch, seeking the warmth he provided on a subconscious level.

Clearing his throat softly, he righted you on your feet and took a step back, bowing at the waist and a soft curl slipped in front of his handsome features, concealing his left eye, “forgive my impropriety, my Lady,” his voice was deep, rasped and foreign and those same lips curled around each word with an elegance none of the men here could hope to match, “my intentions were pure, I assure you. I did not mean-”

“-t-the apologies are mine, my Lord. I did not see you.” You cut off his apology, your usual confidence abandoning you and curtseyed softly before you both straightened in tandem, “please accept my most sincere apologies.”

“Only if you accept mine, my Lady, as I was the one to knock you.” This man raised his eyes to meet yours, a small smile playing on his lips at your stunned expression.

Realising how unladylike you seemed, you quickly smoothed your expression into a serene smile and bowed your head gently, “well then, I accept your apology, my Lord.”

“And now, I shall receive yours.” He bowed once again, though his eyes never once strayed from yours, his hand coming to brush back the curl that slipped in front of his face, freeing his eye from the obstacle. “Quite an affair, is it not?”

You turned to look upon the room and the dozens of bodies packed in the lavish ball and the bodies moving in rhythmic synchronisation as they flounced around the dancefloor, skirts billowing and waistcoats whipping. “Yes, my Lord. It is certainly a promising fete.” You ripped your gaze from the dancers and you looked back to the mysterious suitor that you know for a fact his profile has never graced your miniatures. “I do not believe I have had the pleasure, my Lord.” You introduced yourself and he bowed his head in a nod to your status.

“Din Djarin, it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, my Lady.”

You did not miss the way he left out his title, not many men did. It was refreshing to meet someone unbothered by status and titles. You smiled brilliantly and for a moment, he had trouble remembering how to breathe.

How did people do this?

“What brings you to London, Lord Djarin? I do not believe I have seen you here.” You certainly couldn’t recall seeing those mesmerizing, yet prominent features etched in your miniatures.

“I’m in town for business, mostly- but I thought I would attempt to join the fray of finding a beautiful woman to make my bride.” Din’s eyes found yours when his lips curved out the word ‘beautiful’. You could feel your cheeks heat and quickly brought the tiny glass to your lips and took a long draught- almost emptying the glass entirely. It was unseemly on your part but you couldn’t find it within yourself to care, you needed to soothe your drying throat and tame the butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

“And what better place to be than a cotillion for ambitious debutants who are searching for the perfect match?” Betraying your inner emotions, you struck up kind conversation, performing an air of confidence and strengthened your resolve. A wide smile stretched his lips, revealing perfect, straight teeth and the act of a simple smile brightened his features. Your heart slammed against your ribcage in response, your steely courage cracking in half with little to no effort.

He took a sip of his own lemonade just as a pair of gossiping mama’s walked past you both, talking loud enough for you to overhear their conversation with minimal exertion- if any, “and where, pray tell, is this so-called king?"

"Perhaps, Whistledown's sources were wrong. You can never trust a scandal sheet these days, I wouldn't be surprised if he turned out to be a charlatan."

You swallowed the sigh you desperately craved to release and inwardly shook yourself free from the coils of irritation that started to constrict around you before turning your attention back to the mysterious lord, only to notice his eyes were following the rumormongers and you helped yourself to a portioned sip of lemonade in an endeavor to quell the heat burning within you. A certain dark fire heated his gaze, stoking a reaction in you. Something deep and primal you had never experienced before and you suppressed a shudder at the ferocity clearly displayed in those deep, dark eyes.

“What are your thoughts on this foreign monarch, my Lord?” You barely managed to choke out, Din’s eyes snapped back to you as your question hung in the air and you swallowed subtly as his piercing gaze burned through yours.

“My thoughts?” He rasped, shifting on his feet in a show of subtle anxiousness. His earlier fire dissipating and awkward trepidation took the forefront.

“What do you make of the rumors surrounding the arrival of a ruler of a distant land coming to London to participate in the season?” You tilted your head in innocent curiosity, “surely, you have heard of this mysterious King hailing from his distant realm?”

“Rumor articles and gossip do not interest me, but yes, I am familiar with the topic you wish to discuss.” His smile twisted his lips into a forced stretch- barely passing for genuine and you weren’t sure as to why he seemed so uncomfortable when just moments earlier he was quite at ease conversing with you.

“And what do you make of his scarcity when his arrival was rumored to be a most certain guarantee? I should think the King would be thankful for not attending. Overbearing mothers and their equally simpering daughters have proven to be nuisances at the best of times.”

“Is that so?” Din looked at you, surprise colouring his pleasing features at your unfiltered response, “are you not disappointed that you may not meet this ruler and further your prospects on the mart?” His hand gestured subtly at his side, the barely touched lemonade sloshing dangerously close to the rim, “it would be a high honour to catch the eye of a king, now would it not?”

You chuckled, ducking your head for a moment, reflecting on your answer before opening your lips, “as silly as it may sound, I wish to marry for love.” You raised your hand, noncommittal waving it about, “I realise it will never happen, you do not endure two seasons with silly notions of love intact. I must maintain a status beholden of my title and secure a proper, advantageous match. But I can operate under the illusion of hope, can I not?” Din’s eyes cast down in thought, your words were soft, spoken quietly as if you were afraid another may overhear- whether by accident or on purpose, he could not say.

But the sincerity in your eyes could not be overlooked, the innocent yearning for a future that could very well be out of your reach sparkled against the hues of your irises.

“Perhaps your aspirations will be met, my Lady.” Din smiled kindly and you hummed in thought, but your brilliant smile was dim. Working up his courage, he set the small glass of his barely touched lemonade on the refreshment table and vaguely gestured to the dancefloor, anxiousness twisting his features almost comically, “w-would you care to dance?”

His hand was large, rough with thick fingers. They were working hands, familiar with hard labour and you shivered imperceptibly at the thought of those hands running down the expanse of your naked flesh.

You took a few steps forward, maintaining a respectable distance for propriety’s sake. With a smooth movement, you gently leant around him- his eyes never left yours as you placed your glass on the refreshment table beside his.

A gentle scent curled into your nose, blessing your senses with the subtle hints of sweet spices, oak and . . . a touch of gunpowder.

A heady, peculiar scent and it suited its wearer perfectly.

You slid your gloved hand into his, fingers slipping against his palm. The gossamer material caught on the rough skin of his palm and his lips upturned into a grin. “It would be my pleasure, Lord Djarin.” He grinned and you helped him by pointing to the card around your wrist and he made a soft ‘oh’ sound before taking hold of it and let go of your hand to grip the tiny pencil- thick fingers swallowing the dainty stationary and you smiled as he filled the Canon Galop Quadrille with his name in sharp, messy strokes.

“Shall we?” He let the card and pencil drop as his fingers snaked up your wrist slowly, feeling every dip and hollow before clasping your hand gently and leading you to the dance floor. “I must confess, I’m not accustomed to dancing all that much. I pray you forgive me if I fumble.”

You chuckled softly as you joined the other couples on the dancefloor and took your places. You smiled at Din who shuffled in place subtly, waves of anxiety pouring out of him, “I will not judge you, Lord Djarin. You have my most sincere promise and if you have any issues with the steps, I shall guide you. Do not worry.” He looked at you, your soothing tone calming the raging storm of distress inside him and he reciprocated with a smile of his own.

The music began to play as you curtseyed to the other couples and took your place in front of Din, your hand slipping into his and a strong muscular arm wrapped around your back, large hand splayed across the expanse of your skin and you suppressed another shudder at the addicting heat he emitted. With a gentle nod, the tempo in the set increased and you began to skip about the room with practiced ease.

You gently tilted in a different direction, silently alluding to the next movement and he carried you effortlessly through the throngs of couples, winding around the dancefloor perfectly.

Giggles erupted from your throat, this particular dance always brought out the child within you and Din smiled at the sound, finding that he wished to hear it more often. “I dare say, my Lord, that you move quite well for not being accustomed to this particular dance.”

“I’m rather accustomed to a life outdoors, perhaps it has aided me well.” Din murmured, tightening his hold against your back.

You twisted and twirled around the dancefloor, weaving around bodies and as you separated to complete the next act of the dance, your eyes never left his and the mysterious man seemed more than content to hold your gaze and then you were back in each other’s arms.

“Perhaps, we could discuss the matter of dancing etiquette further, at a more. . private venue?” You asked quietly, alluding for him to call on your home.

Before he could open his mouth to reply, a loud thump hit the ground and the music paused abruptly and you both stopped, all the guests' gazes swivelled to the ballroom doors as they were thrust open violently.

Gasps and shrieks rippled across the room as two armoured warriors marched forward, spears in hand and their features concealed by unusual helmets, stark colours streaked across the material in a wash of deep reds, browns, yellows and teals along with similarly handprints. A dark- completely opaque visor stretched across their helmets before spanning down, splintering the armour in half.

The curve of their coloured breastplates indicated their feminine physiques, pieces of vibrant painted plates clung to the thick, almost tribal clothing they wore beneath- sharp hues of red and brown adorned their bodies, hems tied tight with pieces of dark leather around their wrists and calves. Fur lined the capes around their shoulders as the thick material flowed to their booted feet, the leather scuffed and worn- creased from years of dedication and physical labor.

Yet your eyes remained trained on the pure silver spears they held at the sides, pointed ends lifted straight in the air as they slammed the butts of the weapons down against the polished floors in tandem.

A loud metallic ringing filled the ballroom and harsh bootfalls began to echo.

Din stiffened in your arms before gently extricating you from his hold, the both of you turning to face the open entrance.

You swallowed harshly as a hulking figure took the space of the doorway, silver armour gleamed in the lights above, clearly displaying the pure gold accents weaved through the chest plate and accompanying pieces- dark clothes thick and concealing any form of skin to be shown, brown gloves worn, flaxen tips stark against the deep colours.

Just like his guards, he was not unarmed. But unlike carrying a spear of his own- you did not miss the pure obsidian claymore sheathed around his back. The hilt was brilliant against the darkness of the blade- made up of what seemed to be the same material that adorned his body.

His helmet was simple- unlike the tribal colourings of his people, his was silver- notes of gold bled through the seams of the visor, framing it with its simplistic beauty and fur lined his shoulders, gold chain clinking against the silver metal and the crimson cape billowed behind him as he continued with his heavy gait.

“Is it him? Surely not!”

“I expected a fanfare- yet this is not what I had imagined.”

“Do they dress like this in Mandalore? Will I have to?!”

“Look at them, so primal!”

“Why do they carry weapons? So uncivilised.”

Whispers filled the hall as the foreign stranger stopped, his helmet scanning the room.

“The twenty-fourth monarch of our sovereign land,” The guards called, demanding silence from all in attendance, “The First of Clan Mudhorn and sole ruler of Manda’yaim. We present our king, the Manda’lor.” Their fists beat against their breastplates as they turned and faced their leader and bent their knee to the floor, heads bowed in respect. “This is the Way.”

The dark visor continued to survey the hall until it stopped-

-directly onto you.

Your breath caught in your throat as your eyes caught your reflection staring back at you from across the room, you could no longer feel Din’s presence beside you. A quiet, rasping voice rang true from beneath the ornate silver helm, so familiar and yet completely unplaceable.

“This is the Way.”

190 notes · View notes

bizarrebaby · 3 years

Text

On The Feed | Mandalorian/Reader

Pairing: Mandalorian/Reader

Word count: 3k

Summary: Mando accidentally turns on the crest’s old security cameras. One of which happens to be in your bunk

Warnings: NSFT! Slight somno/voyeurism (mando watching you sleep), feelings

The first time the Mandalorian had turned on the long-forgotten surveillance system on the Razor Crest, and had seen you asleep in your bunk, it had been a complete accident that was rectified quickly. The cameras were from a time before he’d had the carbonite freezer installed, and he’d had no choice but to keep live quarries in the ship. A wayward brush of his hand against the console had turned them on, and just as quickly turned them off. But not before he’d already burned the image of you through the monitor into his mind. While the whole thing was over quickly, it was not nearly as easily forgotten.

The second time, he had told himself that it was out of concern. The planet you’d just spent the last week on had an inhospitable climate to say the least, and you’d had your fair share of scrapes as well. So he turned on the feed to see if you were ok-- that you weren’t sniffling or coughing, or secretly nursing some injury you hadn’t wanted him to concern himself with. While that wasn’t a lie, it wasn’t the whole truth, either. To see you sound asleep was comforting, it stirred something deep within him that he couldn’t remember having ever felt before.

The third time… was something he couldn’t explain without suffocating with guilt. He’d just come back from a long, difficult bounty hunt that kept him away from the crest for a few days. He’d missed you terribly, and had returned in the middle of the night, and unwilling to wake you. To disturb what little rest you got just because he had missed you seemed childish to him. So he did something he hadn’t done in a long time. Climbed up to the cockpit, locking the door behind him, sat in the pilot’s seat, and removed his helmet. He bit his glove and tugged it off, unbuckling his codpiece. He palmed the bulge in his pants gingerly, fuzzy imaginations of your hesitant touch at the fringes of his mind.

He hissed as he released his erection to the cool, recycled air of the cockpit. He spat in his palm before wrapping a calloused hand around his cock, thumbing at the frenulum while he tried to pull scenarios from his memory. All he could come up with was you. Touches against his bare skin when you’d patched up an injury, the moaning you’d do as you stretched awake in the mornings, how peaceful you looked in those few moments he saw you before you woke up…

He remembers the camera feed. How, shameful as it had been, it had been so comforting to see you safe and sound. Looking so soft and pretty in your sleep clothes, curled in on yourself. The Mandalorian tries and fails to think with anything but the dick between his legs. The out-of-the-way switch is flicked once again. The rarely used technology took a few seconds to hum to life, an eternity considering Mando’s trained reflexes and the racing of his mind. But he chose not to go back. He couldn’t, not having come this far and being so close to satisfaction. He doesn’t think he’s done anything to deserve to see you in such a vulnerable state, but he’s too weak-minded to deny himself.

You’d once told the bounty hunter that while space was cold, the Razor Crest was colder. Being that he had always been in the layers of his flight suit, his armor, and his cape (not to mention that the cold had never bothered him), the Crest’s temperature controls favored lower temperatures. It definitely didn’t have anything to do with saving on energy to grant some small reprieve to the aging vessel. Nope.

So there you lay, wrapped up in a quilt he’d gotten you in the market on some backwater planet. It was primarily dyed a warm peach color, a pigment extracted from a native insect. Perhaps it was some predilection from growing up in a Mandalorian covert, but Mando almost preferred that he couldn’t see much of you. Just the outline of your figure, where he could use his warm memories of you to color in the beautiful pieces of you that he cherished.

He gripped his cock and began to stroke it slowly, thinking of how you’d touch him for the first time. Exploratory, almost hesitant. It wasn’t possible for him to fool himself completely, not with how large and calloused his hand was compared to yours, but every so often his imagination was vivid enough that he was able to dip into the dream. And when he did, the pleasure was something priceless.

In these fantasies, he was always without the helmet. The Mandalorian wouldn’t think of it in the moment, but after he came he would wonder why it was he chose to imagine things that way. Did he yearn for a freedom from the creed that gave him purpose? Or, perhaps worse, did he see you as the one he wanted to share his life with, until he went marching away?

You shifted and moaned in your sleep, banishing some discomfort imperceptible to your traveling companion. He wondered if you dreamt at all, considering how inconsistent and uncomfortable your sleeping arrangements usually were. He hoped that you did dream, that there was an escape from the endlessness of space for you, if not for him. Selfishly, he hoped to be a part of those dreams. He wanted so badly to be the talisman against your nightmares.

He often imagined taking you in a flurry of mutual passion, on the Crest or away in some city, anywhere you would have him. He’d be rough, but you’d like it, and you’d be so, so good for him. But tonight, he felt so miserably lovesick and starved that he couldn’t imagine fucking you in any way but the gentlest way he could manage. He’d trained his entire life in combat, those who’d found death by his hands were innumerable. And yet, he’d use all of the delicacy at his disposal to coax you open for him. He’d put his mouth on you, and use his tongue to spell out all of the words he’d been too afraid to say through the vocoder.

Through the haze of his fantasies, he saw you smile in your sleep on the feed. Just a sweet tug at your lips, and he felt ruin upon him. Mando breathed like a wild beast as he fisted his cock, brows furrowed, eyes glued to the screen. His orgasm hit him like a freight train, cum splashing against his breastplate as he closed his eyes and saw you behind the lids. He cleaned himself up after coming down from his high, but kept the cameras on for a little longer. He thought that maybe if he saw you like this before he went to sleep himself, he could pretend you were sleeping next to him. Maybe that comfort would let his mind finally rest. Maybe he could dream.

The Mandalorian had promised himself he wouldn’t do it again. But like so many promises he made to himself regarding you, it wasn’t kept.

You told him precious little about life from your planet of origin. Of course, it was because he hadn’t asked. Even though he wanted to know everything there was to know about you. You once told him that where you came from, people believed that no one should ever be alone. Much the same as Mandalorians, they were very communal, and interpersonal support was of great importance. But there was an expression you taught him that he’d never encountered in the galaxy. He had a hard time remembering the word, but he remembered the meaning: to feel alone in one’s own body.

The Mandalorian had been alone for much of his life. Travelling, keeping little companionship besides his covert, and he was convinced that things were best when he was alone. He remembered being confused by your expression, closer to when you’d first met. He mused that perhaps it was just a different way of expressing touch starvation, which he knew of intimately.

He knew now that it was an entirely different feeling. You had wriggled into the gaps in his ribs, and taken little pieces of him every day. The breath from his lungs, the blood from his heart. And suddenly, when he had to be away from you, it didn’t feel right.

Which brought him to another listless, sleepless night of him seeking his own pleasure in a desperate attempt to sate whatever beast had made home inside his body. The one that craved only you.

When he turned on the cameras, he was met with your flushed face, eyebrows furrowed, as you moaned quietly and squirmed beneath your quilt. His first instinct was to ask himself what the hell could’ve been wrong with you? If you were sick or hurt, how could it have slipped by him? When did it—

Oh.

You kicked the quilt off, revealing the hand buried in between your legs, your sleep shirt ridden up to the curve of your waist. The image of you curled around yourself made it painfully easy for him to imagine himself at your back, his hand replacing yours at the apex of your thighs. He felt sweat bead on his brow as he sat, paralyzed in the pilot’s chair; if what he’d been doing before was shameful, what he was doing now would have to be unforgivable. As if of its own free will, his arm reached to that far side of the console, and turned up the audio dial.

Unforgivable, indeed.

Your moans were muffled intentionally, and he felt a pang of unjustified irritation when he noticed. If he were there, he wouldn’t tolerate you quieting yourself. Not after he’d waited this long to experience every possible facet of your ecstasy. Something he knew himself undeserving of, but was past the point of caring. He’d become impossibly hard, and was about to divest himself of his flightsuit, when he caught something barely picked up by the audio censors.

“Mando--”

He was out of his chair and down the ladder before he even realized what he was doing. He paused just outside your bunk, unable to hear you through the steel door, but his reservations had long since been overridden by need. Your door swished open, and he caught just the barest hint of movement before you were entirely still. You weren’t deaf, and he hadn’t exactly moved silently in those few rushed moments. Your eyes nearly clenched closed, the quilt still misplaced, you pretended. But the Mandalorian had learned how to see through pretenders long ago.

Mando moved cautiously, carefully, as he slid himself into your cot just behind you. As if hoping to hide from a predator, you continued to lay still and try to breathe evenly. The Mandalorian rested a gloveless hand against your warm thigh, sliding it up slowly until he was able to slide a thumb beneath the elastic of your underwear, memorizing the feeling of your skin.

“I know you’re not asleep, sweet girl. I know what you were doing,” he whispered through the modulator. His hand ventured to your front, and stroked over the obvious wet patch on your panties. “You were calling for me, mesh’la. And here I am.”

For less than a moment, he felt like he came to his senses, and worried that he was wrong, somehow. That his love-starved mind had invented those images of you, and similarly fabricated your calling his name. That these were all unwanted advances that would destroy the relationship you had.

“Mando,” you exhaled, moving to grind against his hand. He shuddered slightly, but felt a certain pang of disappointment at the name you used.

“Din,” he said, “my name is Din, sweet girl. Please use it,” he pleaded quietly against your neck.

“Din,” you called, pushing yourself against his front, and creating delicious friction against his hard cock through his flight suit. He used his free hand to hurriedly free himself, and you squeaked as his heavy cock landed against the small of your back, where your shirt had ridden up. You could feel the wet of his precum hot against your skin.

His once idle hand dove beneath your waistband, stroking his thick fingers along your slick. You could hear his pleased hum from under his helmet, too quiet for the vocoder to pick up.

“You’re so wet, cyar’ika, and so kriffing soft… Better than I ever imagined.”

You tried to pretend that the thought of him imagining this scenario didn’t completely undo you. The Mandalorian slowly slipped a finger in you, just teasingly up to the first knuckle, and you could feel him grind against your backside.

“Your pussy’s gripping my finger so tightly, I don’t know how I’ll fit. But I’m a patient man.”

Suddenly, you’re manhandled into a sitting position, between Din’s legs. His free hand slipped up your sleep shirt, groping a breast eagerly. He fingers you in earnest now, no longer feeling content in just exploring you. No, now he wanted to ruin you. Give you so much ecstasy that there wouldn’t be a doubt in your mind regarding how he felt about you.

He added another finger, stroking against your silken walls while his palm put delicious pressure against your clit. You choked out a pleasured cry, and he could feel his cock throb at the sound. You were already so worked up by the time he arrived, and all of the things he was saying were just so overwhelming, you were already close. The way your walls pulled at his fingers was mesmerizing to the Mandalorian as he drew you closer to orgasm.

“Are you close, cyar’ika? K-keep making those noises—fuck, c-can you feel how hard I am for you? So pretty,” he cooed. “You’ll come for me, like a good girl, won’t you, cyare? C’mon, sweet girl, come, and then I’ll take you like you deserve.”

You whined, gasped, and shuddered when the white hot pleasure hit you, sending jolts up your spine as you pushed yourself further against the Mandalorian’s hand. You grabbed his thighs to ground yourself as he continued to rock his fingers into you gently, helping you ride through your climax.

“Din,” you huffed, dreamily, “thank you.”

“Save your thanks for when I’m finished with you. I want you, cyare. Will you let me take you?”

“Please, Din. I wanna feel you.”

The simple, earnest desire—no, yearning, in your voice fanned at the hellish flames in his belly. You wanted him. Maybe as badly as he wanted you. His fingers withdrew from you, and he picked you up without fanfare, turning you to lay you on your back. He felt something in his heart break a little as he looked down at you through the filter of his helmet. First through the distortion of the camera feed, and now this.

One day he would look you in the eyes as he fucked you, and it would be beautiful.

The velvet head of his cock nudged at your clit while prodding at you, and Din smiled under his helmet at the sweet little noises it coaxed from you. He pushed into you, gently and incrementally, determined to make this moment last, as if this would never happen again. For all he knew, it might not. You might wake up tomorrow and condemn this all as a mistake, as a regret. But for this instant, he had you, and he would cherish you.

He choked out his groans as he felt the hug of your walls around him. He knew he wouldn’t have had this much trouble staving off his climax if he were with anyone but you. It was you doing this to him, it was as if he could feel the thrum of your heartbeat through the silk of your cunt, and it utterly undid him to think of your heart beating as hard as his.

Din thrusted slowly, deeply, gentle yet punctuated. Words of affection, praise, and endearment fell from his mouth freely now, when usually coaxing conversation from him was akin to pulling teeth.

“Sweet girl, fuck-- My sweet girl… ngh, even if just for tonight.”

Your eyes widened momentarily, insecurity behind them as your brows furrowed. Your eyes drifted from his visor as you continued to quietly pant and mewl with his thrusts.

“I… I want to be yours after tonight, Din. Please?”

For a moment you wondered if you’d said the wrong thing. Ruined it all, broken whatever spell he’d been under, the one that seemed to make him so suddenly and miraculously interested in you the same way you were in him. Then, his thrusts turned punishing, and he shoved his hand between your bodies to knead at your clit with his thumb.

“Fuck, cyare, you can’t just say things like that and expect m-me to last,” he gasped, wholly unprepared for such a confession.

Your cunt squeezed him, as if you’d had his heart in your hands, and you were unable to contain the longing look that made itself known on your face. He couldn’t take it. Din stilled as he came, streaking your insides in ropes of his hot cum, a deep growl leaving him as he shook with the intensity of it.

He continued to thrust into you with his softening and oversensitive cock, stroking your clit with renewed vigor.

“Come on, mesh’la, I wanna feel you come on my cock, fucking soak me--”

You keened, a broken cry leaving you, and Din felt your walls milk him so hard it almost hurt with his sensitivity as you gushed around him. He finally collapsed on you, his weight resting heavy on you for a moment before he rolled over, pulling you along to rest on him. You both huffed quietly, the only sound aside from the unending hum of the systems of the crest, which you were suddenly able to perceive again.

“For as long as you’ll have me.” He said.

“What?”

“You… you said you wanted to be mine. After tonight,” he paused to collect his thoughts, a struggle as he still waded in post-orgasmic haze. “Be mine. And I’ll be yours. For as long as you’ll have me, cyare.”

You’re stunned into silence for a moment, before you hoist yourself up, looking down at him.

You lean your forehead against his helmet.

Taglist (this is the first time I’ve done one of these! Sorry if I fuck it up lol)

@auty-ren @gallowsjoker

#writing #drabble #the mandalorian #the mandolorian x reader #din djarin #din djarin x reader #nsft

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forever-rogue · 3 years

Note

How about some softness with Din? Perhaps some star gazing? Just something gentle 🥺

Pairing: Din Djarin x GN!Reader

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: none

THE MANDALORIAN MASTERLIST

MAIN MASTERLIST

»»————-　♡　————-««

It was quiet. For once.

There were no sounds of people, no raucous laughter, no hushed whispered, no words spewed in anger.

There was no machinery; no beeping or chirping droids rolling and moving about. No sounds of people working on ships, or some other crafts.

There were no animals crawling and squirming about, singing their songs as they tried to gather food and care for their young. There weren’t even any in sight. It was almost odd; part of you found it unnerving, the other part was glad for the moment alone. It was a moment to breath and relax, stolen along the way in a journey that had pushed past your breaking point and then further.

You were sure you were a rubber band rather a living breathing human. You were pushed and pulled to one extreme and then another and then back again. Gone through so much and survived even more. Surely no human should have been capable of surviving so much. Perhaps you weren’t human at all, but some sort of machine masquerading as one.

But then there were the little things. The little things that remained you that you did in fact possess a heart, that you did have feelings, that you were in fact, surrounded by love even when it didn’t feel like it.

It was a lot of those little things that made your heart feel like it was one pristine organ rather than a fragile, tiny object that had been smashed into thousands of pieces that had been roughly taped up again to resemble something real. It was the small laughs that met your ears in the late evenings or early morning. It was the gentle touches that seemed to linger when when they were long over. It was the soft kisses that were pressed all over your skin with nothing but reverence and adoration. It was being reminded that you weren’t the terrible person you had made yourself out to be, that you were a good person that deserved love and was capable of loving in return.

You hoped that feeling would never evaporate and disappear into thing air like so many other things did.

But for now it was quiet. Quiet enough to let you breathe, but the soft winds through the grass didn’t let your mind wander too far. You were thankful for that; when it was too silent the thoughts you had jammed to the far recesses of your mind crept forward. One day you’d have to unpack them, but for now, you chose to leave them to the side. You had a never multitude of things to worry about on a day to day basis.

A soft sigh escaped your chapped lips as you sat down on the hard ground and stared into the dark night sky. A shiver ran down your spine as you wrapped your arms around yourself to try and chase away some of the soul crushing chill. You weren’t uncomfortable per se, but you could have been warmer; those were luxuries that you’d learn to live without a long time ago. Who had the time to think about comfort when they were constantly on the run?

But tonight, as you stared at the glittering, twinkling stars that danced in the pitch dark sky, you felt...almost hopeful. Almost calm. Almost normal. There was something about seeing such beauty in the sky that reminded you that you weren’t alone. You weren’t the only one feeling like that is; you weren’t the first and you wouldn’t be the last. There was such an oddly calming feeling about this speck of beauty in the chaos.

And then -

“Cyare?”

The silence was gone. Broken. Just like you often felt. But the same man that had broken the silence had repaired you over and over again. As you had him. A perfect harmony in a broken galaxy.

“Din,” his name was light. Easy. With a groan - not of annoyance but of weariness - he plopped onto the ground and sat next to you. Touching. But barely. Just close enough so you knew he was there. A blanket was deftly placed around your tired bodies and you keened into his touch. A learned, practiced tango.

“It’s cold,” he mused as you nodded in agreement. It was too cold to be out there probably. But that had never stopped either of you before, “dark.”

“It’s night time,” you reminded him, a teasing, lilting tone in your voice. There was that love coming out again. So easily - effortlessly, “I like the stars. It makes things feel a little less lonely.”

“You’re not alone.”

No. You had him and a small green son. You were never alone, despite what the looming, lingering thoughts insisted.

A small smile crept onto your features at the gentle reminder.

“I know,” a hand touch. Yours squeezing his; his gloves were off and you were met with bare skin. If you would have turned your head, even just a minute fraction, you would have seen his face. You would have seen him watching you with reverence etched in those soft brown eyes.

You kept your gaze trained towards the heavens, counting all the dotted stars you could spy. You’d done a lot of things in your life some good, some bad, many questionable. But you’d never betray someone’s trust; especially not that of your Mandalorian.

“I love you,” it a quiet declaration after a few beats of quiet. It had increased in frequency over the past year. But every time it felt still new and invigorating. A fresh reminder that you were worthy. Fingers laced together; callous skin contrasting with softness.

“I love you,” a reminder from you to settle his own hopes and fears. It was a promise; that one day things would be different. That one day things would be calm and tranquil - domestic. You hoped that day would come soon. You weren’t sure how much more bending and snapping you could handle. The promise of the future was enough to keep you firm and true, “where’s the little one?”

“Sleeping,” you offered a nod of understanding, “as you should be. You must be tired.”

“I am,” you agreed, “can’t sleep. I wanted to watched the stars.”

“Can I stay?”

“Always,” this time was a head on his shoulder. Gone was the armor. He wasn’t the Mandalorian right now. He was Din Djarin; plain-clothed and human; flesh and blood versus beskar. A kiss was pressed to the top of your head. A sigh - one of relief.

It was quiet again. The only sound was a breath for a breath - steady inhale and exhale. Words weren’t necessary. Silence spoke volumes. Din had never been a man of many words. But you didn’t need him to be. This was okay too.

This was enough. You were enough - Din was enough.

Enough, enough, enough.

»»————-　♡　————-««

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#din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #the mandalorian #the Mandalorian x reader

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boxdyeblonde · 3 years

Text

A Night Off

A/N: This may have a part 2 (and possibly 3??), but this is another chapter from the fic i decided to dissect. Honestly this chapter/blurb is really mild in general, mostly just the interactions of Javi, Steve, and reader, and also yearning/pining lol

Pairing: Javier Peña x fem!reader

Warnings: alcohol, cigarettes, harassment, (extremely mild) violence

Word Count: 3,122

(also, @dindjarin-mandalorian heres another!)

part 1 || part 2

A weird noise filled the room. It was blaring, yet muffled, and it was far from comforting. You turned your head, looking around for the noise as it became louder.

Your eyes shot open. Fuck. It was your alarm. “Shit,” you muttered, getting out of bed and starting to race around your apartment. Throwing on your pantsuit in record time and grabbing a banana off the counter, you hopped in your car and sped to work. Walking in, a few minutes late, you hurried over to your desk. “Tough morning?” Steve asked, looking at you, coffee pot in hand as he pours some into his cup. You nodded. “Want some?” He gestures the pot towards you. “No. Thanks, though,” you huff out, getting your desk somewhat organized and straightening out your shirt. You pull the energy drink out of your purse and crack it open, tilting it towards Steve with a grin. “I’ve got my own source of caffeine right here.” “Healthy,” you hear the sarcasm dripping off the words as you turn your head towards Javier. Snorting, you take a swig of your drink. “You’re one to talk.” A small smirk graces your lips and a light chuckle escapes him. He shrugs. Steve makes his way back over to the two of you, where your three desks has been pushed together. They both had been here longer than you, although Steve was fairly new as well, and your desk had been added to the end of their mega-desk. You smiled to yourself. The three of you had fallen in step with each other almost effortlessly. Granted, Javier was often grumpy, Steve could have a short fuse sometimes, and you weren’t always an angel yourself. But the three of you worked well together. A few hours of paperwork and phone calls later, you took a small break, watching as Javier held the phone between his shoulder and his ear. Annoyance radiated off of him and you chuckled to yourself before filling yourself a cup of water and making your way back over to the desks. The phone Javi had been holding was returned to its machine, and you looked over to him. He shook his head; Another pointless call leading to nothing. A sigh sounded from Steve. “Since we have nothing to prepare for tomorrow, how about we get some drinks tonight?” Steve asks, looking at the two of you for an answer. It was a Friday night, and you had no plans for the next day that you could think of, besides maybe laundry. “Sure,” you mused. “I guess,” Javier offered begrudgingly. A small chuckle left both you and Steve as the two of you made eye contact. Silently, you both came to the same conclusion; Stubborn. “Great.” Steve claims, clasping his hands together, a grin making its way across his face before returning to the paperwork on his desk again. Javier pulls out his pack of cigarettes and takes one from the carton. You carefully observe him as he places it between his lips and lights it. He seems to notice your eyes on him and tilts his head towards you, gesturing with the carton. “Want one?” He asks. You shake your head in response. “No thanks.” Not right now, you think to yourself. You had been trying to limit yourself to no more than one cigarette in a day. It was an extremely easy thing to fall back on, especially with the stress of your job. And you knew, if you were having drinks later, that you probably would want one, and wouldn’t have the willpower or inhibition to hold back then. “Are you trying to get her addicted to cigarettes too?” Steve asked, “You’ve seen how she is with her energy drinks.” You rolled your eyes. “Energy drinks are one of the best things invented in the past ten years,” you shoot back, “It’s hard to get caffeine when you don’t like coffee, and tea just doesn’t do it sometimes, okay?” Steve raises his arms in defense. “Alright, alright… Guess I won’t offer you coffee anymore,” He says as you remember his offer this morning, a small smile gracing your lips. You look over at Javier and notice that his cigarette is almost gone. “Shit, Peña, you need to take it easy, its barely been two minutes since you lit that,” you say, raising an eyebrow at him. You hated how you could be so

motherly sometimes, but it was always in good intentions. He shrugged at you for the second time that day before turning back to the pile of paperwork in front of him. The end of your shift could not come fast enough. Racing though paperwork was beginning to hurt your eyes, and you were just looking for an excuse to let go a little, for once. The restlessness you felt was not solely limited to you. As you glanced around the room, you noticed how everyone shifted anxiously, chatter rising in the office. You look up at your partners and noticed Steve nodding off. “Hey, Sleeping Beauty? You still gonna be able to get drinks with us tonight?” You ask, a smirk gracing you lips as you. Javi chuckles as Steve lets out a small groan. “I’m fine,” Steve grumbled. “I’ve had a pre-drinking nap,” a tired grin fell upon his face, “Now I’m good to go.” “Good, because I’m not carrying your ass home again, Murphy,” Javi groused. Your eyebrow raised and you looked between the two of them. “Again?” You questioned, you lips stretching into a mischievous grin. The last hour of your shift dragged on agonizingly slow. When it finally ended, the three of you made your way out to the embassy parking lot. “Did you walk here today?” Steve asked, not seeing your car in the, now mostly empty lot. “It wouldn’t start again,” you said with a shrug. “You’ve got to get it fixed,” Javi says, “You can’t just walk to and from the embassy, especially at night.” You rolled your eyes. “I know, Javier, its not like I asked my car to have problems, but I was running late and the both of you had already left.” “Well let me drive you home then,” he offers, nodding towards his car. You nod back. “I’m gonna pick up Connie from work, drinks at eight?” Steve asks. The two of you agree, waving goodbye as you hop into the passenger side of his car. It smells like old cigarettes and ‘ocean breeze’ air freshener. You chuckled at the poor attempt to mask the smell of cigarettes. “Wouldn’t have pegged you as an ‘Ocean Breeze’ guy,” you say with a chuckle, a smirk spreading across your lips. “You shut it,” he says, a grin on his lips as he looks over at you. “Buckle up, I want to be able to lay down for a bit before I have to drag yours or Murphy’s drunk ass home tonight.” Rolling your eyes, you click your seat-belt and make your way home. “Thanks for the ride, Jav.” “Any time, honeybunch.” You scrunched your nose at him in offense to the nickname then chuckled lightly. The two of you parted ways once you reached your apartment, his waiting just a few doors down the hall. "See you later," you offer. He responds with a short 'Yup' before walking in his door and shutting you behind him. — The bar wasn’t too crowded for once; The four of you had managed to grab seats up at the bar, and you waved a brief hello to the bartender. The two of you were on a first name basis by now, and when he addressed you directly, a slightly surprised look graced both Pena’s and Murphy’s faces. You weren’t much for the small talk that the other three made as you all hastily sipped on your drinks. You were sat next to Steve and Javier was on the other side of Connie, currently engaged in a conversation with her. Leaning over, Steve asks you, “Come here often?” You roll your eyes at the joke. “You must come here enough for the bartender to greet you by name.” “I was a regular for a while when I first moved down here.” You shrugged. “Been a little too busy lately.” “I’m not judgin’,” Steve mused. Connie beckoned Steve's attention and you turned yours back to your drink, sighing in an attempt to relax yourself. The next time you looked over to the rest of the group, you could see how close Steve and Connie were now leaning into each other. One nudge from someone and they would be making out. And, next to them was Javier, in a conversation with a very attractive woman. You could tell he was putting on his usual moves—the way he leaned against the bar, the tilt of his head, the hand on his hip. A flash of jealousy ripped through you, your stomach

flipping in response. It wasn’t a first, but it was certainly more intense than before. Finishing your drink, you stood before mouthing ‘bathroom’ at a questioning looking Connie. While you made your way to the bathrooms, a man stopped you. “Eres muy hermosa. ¿Puedo invitarte una copa?” (You're very beautiful. Can I buy you a drink?) “Gracias, pero…” You were unsure of how to respond. Hell, a free drink was a free drink. But you did not want this man getting the wrong idea. (Thanks, but....) “¿Pero…?” He questioned, moving closer to you, his hand landing lightly on your bicep. You could smell the alcohol on his breath. (But...?) “Pero…Yo solo necesito ir al baño.” Shit. This was not a strong excuse to get away— but you were going to try anyway. You tried to move past him but his grip tightened on your arm. (But ... I just need to go to the bathroom.) “Vamos chica,” He started, leaning in towards you. Your fist balled up, you didn’t want to make a scene but you were willing to throw a few punches if you had to. (Come on, girly) “Lo siento, no puedo…” You avoided any reasoning and wrenched your arm out of his grip and brushed past him, walking towards the bathrooms. A hand on your wrist yanked you back around. (I'm sorry, I can't...) “¿Cuál es el problema, cariño? ¿No puede un hombre comprarle un trago a una mujer bonita?” (What is the problem, honey? Can't a man buy a pretty woman a drink?) “Déjame ir.” (Let me go.) “No seas tan bromista.” Your blood boiled at this. Your hand meeting his nose before you could even register what you were doing. (Don't be such a tease.) A couple heads turned as he cried out in pain, stumbling back and holding his face. “¡Puta!” (Bitch!) The bar tender came over to the two of you, standing protectively beside you. “Creo que es hora de que te vayas,” he said, facing the man. (I think it's time for you to go) “¡Vete a la mierda!” The man said, before grumbling and staggering out of the place. (Fuck you!) “Gracias, Miguel,” You said, turning towards the bartender. (Thanks, Miguel) “Cualquier momento,” He smiled. “¿Estás bien?” (Anytime. Are you okay?) “Sí.” You nodded. (Yes.) Javier had made his way over to you, and you could see Steve and Connie were turned towards you with a concerned look on your face. “¿Qué pasa?” Javi said, looking between the two of you, concern marring his face. (What's up?) You shook your head. “Estoy bien,” you turned to Miguel, “Gracias, de nuevo. Te dejaré volver al trabajo.” You offered a smile of thanks as he nodded, beginning to back away. (I'm okay. Thanks again. I'll let you go back to work.) “Intenta no empezar más peleas esta noche, ¿de acuerdo?” You laughed and shook your head as he made his was back over to the bar. (Try not to start any more fights tonight, okay?) “What happened?” Javi inquired as soon as Miguel was gone. “Javi, I said I’m fine. He just wasn’t backing off so…” You shrugged and grabbed your hand, rubbing over your knuckles. “That was quite the punch,” Javi said, a grin slipping across his face. You could feel your cheeks get slightly hot. “Remind me not to get on your bad side,” he added with a chuckle. You couldn’t help but laugh too. “Well, if you don’t mind, I’m gonna hit the bathroom like I originally intended.” He nodded in response. Not only did you desperately have to pee by this point, but your knuckles were starting to throb after the initial adrenaline had worn off. After going to the bathroom and washing your hands, you let the cold water of the faucet grace over your hands. It provided some relief, but was ultimately disappointing. When you had made your way back to the bar, plopping down next to Steve, you saw that Javier had now moved next to you, letting Connie and Steve have their own space. “I’ll buy your next one,” Javier offered. “You don’t have to—“ You started. “You won a bar fight, that deserves a celebration.” “I don’t know if I’d call it a fight, and I definitely don’t want to celebrate that.” “Then how about I buy you one as

someone who is impressed.” “You’re not gonna give this up, are you?” “Never, sweet cheeks.” “Call me that again and you’ll be next, Peña.” A grin split across your face. “Noted,” he smiled back, flagging down Miguel for a drink and a bag of ice. The two of you made a little small talk, but spent a lot of the time downing your drinks. The pain in your hand was starting to fade as a result of both the ice and the alcohol. Before you had realized, you were quite inebriated. You weren't sloppy drunk, but your filter was starting to come off. “Oh shut up, Peña,” you defended, “Leia didn’t put up with bullshit and she was hot. I bet you’re going to say Han Solo was your favorite.” “So what if he is?” Javi puffs out defensively. “I knew it,” you say, grinning “I like Luke,” Steve chimes in. Connie must have gone to the bathroom because she was nowhere to be seen. “You would like Luke,” you said with a chuckle. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Steve asked, his hand landing on his chest in mock-hurt. The three of you laughed. When Connie returned, she and Steve decided to take off for the night, leaving you and Peña to finish your drinks. “Think they’ll still be going when we get back?” You quipped. Surprise flashed onto Javi’s features, slightly taken aback. “They were all over each other, Javi, don’t look so surprised.” “I just wasn’t expecting you to say anything about it,” he replied. “I’m not a child, Javier. Besides, I’m surprised they kept it so mild here.” You loved Steve and Connie, but sometimes their PDA was extreme, making it uncomfy for anyone in the room. You always tended to be more private with you affections, if you had any at all, so PDA was foreign to you. Javi shrugged. “At least they love each other,” he stated, the words coming out with a jealous edge to them. You raised your eyebrow at him. “Who hurt you?” You teased. He snorted in response, “More like who did I hurt?” “Ah yes, Bogotá’s heartbreaker, Javier Peña…” You noticed his shoulders tense up as he polished off his drink. “Oh, come on, Javi, we’ve all broken a heart or two in our lives, no need to fixate on it.” You polished off your drink. “You saw that guy earlier, I broke his heart and his nose.” You cracked the tension Javier was holding as a genuine laugh escaped him. The two of you sat there in a short, comfortable silence. “You got nice lips,” you say, reaching up to poke Javi’s bottom lip. God, the alcohol was really getting to you. You scolded yourself internally for a split second but quickly forgot your filter again. “No wonder you’re a heartbreaker,” you slur out, giving Javi a lopsided grin. He tenses up at those words, face turning pink. “Alright, that’s it,” he says, shaking his head, “Let’s get you home, and stop calling me a heartbreaker!” You giggled in response. It was the drunk leading the drunker, as Javier led you back to the apartment complex. “I’ve never kissed a guy with a mustache before,” you say, laughing at the thought. Javi shook his head, wrapping his jacket around your shoulders to keep you warm. “What’s gotten into you tonight?” He asks raising an eyebrow at you. You shrug and offer a sly smile, reaching into your cross body bag for a smoke. You light it and take a few drags before offering it his way. He obliges and takes a few puffs himself. You watched his lips wrap around the filter of the cigarette, inhaling and exhaling the smoke. And, before you could stop yourself, you mind jumped to the thought of his lips on yours, and on other parts of your skin. You blushed and quickly looked away, gesturing for him to pass the cigarette back to you. The two of you walked home, or stumbled home, rather. Javier had pulled you into his side, under the guise of “to keep you from running off”. With his arm wrapped around your waist—hand resting in a gentle yet firm manner on your side—your head only seemed to get cloudier. And, you’ll admit, some of it had to do with the mixture of the cigarettes with the drinks you’d had, but another part of you knew it was

something deep down— something you’d pushed away in an attempt to spare yourself. Walking up the stairs to your apartment, he walked you to your door. His apartment was just down the hall, but he could be a gentleman sometimes, and you supposed that this was one of those times. “Do you need anything?” He asked. You shook your head, a small smile falling across your face. “No, I’ll be fine.” “Okay, goodnight then, dollface.” You scrunched your nose at the nickname. “Goodnight, Javier,” you said softly, before pressing a kiss to his cheek and letting yourself into your apartment. “Thanks for walking me home,” you added with a smile. “Anytime. Don’t forget to ice your hand again, okay?” You nodded back and watched as he turned towards his door. You shut your door and sighed. You may be drunk, but you knew well enough that you were falling hard for this man. And that thought terrified you.

#javier peña x reader #javi x reader #javier peña x you #javier peña #narcos fic #narcos fanfiction #pedro pascal narcos #pedro pascal fic #reader insert

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mandoinevarro · 4 years

Text

Deep into the Wilderness

Words: 4.7k (this was supposed to be short but, alas, i am an asshole)

Rating: E

Warnings: Smut, sex pollen :0, dubious consent (see: sex pollen), a bit of size kink ö, multiple orgasms :O, light descriptions of blood, magic nature if you’re in the mood, incredible coincidences if you’re not

a/n: i genuinely thought this would be a lil drabble :/, also fuck snakes all my homies hate snakes

There’s something wrong about the stars.

Nights in the Tatooine desert are usually dim and still, as stoic as the Mandalorian who’s been journeying across the endless dune sea with you in your little caravan of two. These past few days, you’ve noticed that the jagged difference between coarse sand and smooth beskar are no obstacle for his ability to blend perfectly into his surroundings. For days, you’ve seen the bounty hunter cruise the barren wilderness like he was born in it, climbing the mounds of sand leisurely and offering his hand when the treacherous ground gives in under your feet and you tumble forward. Ever the gentleman. Silent and observant, he tends to adapt to the elements around him and mimic their energy, until he becomes part of the landscape. Tonight is no different.

The normally scattered and shy desert stars have all gathered in a cluster right above your modest campsite, blinking down at you white and yellow and red against an electric blue sky, bright enough to spare the need of a fire. You feel watched. The stars’ ghoulish eyes above trail your every movement. Waiting to witness something.

Yes, a meek voice inside lies for you, it must be the stars, as you purposefully try to ignore the crushing weight of the Mandalorian’s trained gaze on you, much heavier than the strong beskared arm resting on your upright knee. The tube of bacta ointment moves awkwardly under your fingers and, Maker, you know it won’t be enough. The small holes on the wool covering his arm reveal two angry red pupils gushing blood where the snake’s fangs pierced him; pupils that stare amused at the medical salve that they know and you know and Mando knows will do little neutralize the unknown toxin. You sit so close to him you can hear the hitch of his breath when you pinch the tube and white balm oozes onto your finger.

“I—Mando, I-I think we should get help.” It doesn’t help your nerves that the man to your left hasn’t stopped staring at you since the ruby red viper appeared from under the sand like a conjuring, going straight for the Mandalorian’s arm and slithering back inside its hiding place beneath the dunes before either of you could react. It was unnatural; desert creatures tend to linger in the shadows and never attack unless provoked. Then again, everything about this particular evening—including the bounty hunter—seems to be slightly off, like when something in a familiar place is moved, but you can’t figure out exactly what.

“We’re in the middle of nowhere,” the voice under the modulator scratches at a lower register than usual, gruffier in a way that would excite you and warm your belly if you weren’t so worried about the liquid currently poisoning his bloodstream. It must be the pain. “Two days by foot to the nearest town. Just use the bacta.”

You gulp and nod as firmly as you can manage, trying to quiet the whisper saying that bacta won’t cut it this time as you get your finger closer to his arm. It’s strange that he asked for your help—the bite is right on the pulse point of his inner elbow, where he could easily do it himself. Maker, just focus. He must have had a good reason to ask you. Plus, you’re not about to miss the promise of even the slightest physical contact with the Mandalorian, even if the situation is not exactly as you’ve fantasized all these months.

Your finger presses lightly into one of the gaps, and with a bit more force when you hear a raggedy exhale leave him. The opening the snake left behind is too small for your finger, and most of the bacta gathers around its edges, while barely any gets to the wound.

“I, um…I need to cut it—t-the fabric,” you stutter and, stars, you sound like an idiot, getting nervous over applying balm when you’ve seen him cauterize his own injuries with a steady hand, much to your horror. You can feel the way his eyes feed from your words as they study you carefully, somehow strengthening the gravity pining you to the ground. A strange static crinkles in the air between you, so real you almost hear it, and for a moment you feel the weight of his stare move past your face, lower down your body. By the time he finally nods and signals towards the open medical kit with a tilt of his helmet, you’re warm all over.

Stretching your torso just the right amount so that his arm doesn’t slip from your knee, you reach straight for the scissors in front of you. Your fingers pinch the fabric to lift it while your other hand works the clippers, cutting with tiny snip-snip-snips that do little to fill the tense silence between you. Why it’s even tense to begin with is beyond you. Sure, Mando got bitten by some unknown creature that could potentially be lethal, but the invisible rope getting stretched from both ends more and more between your bodies has little to do with the mishap. Stars, it feels like it’s pulling you closer and pushing you apart at the same time, and the arm on your knee suddenly feels like it’s burning through your pants. What would happen, you muse as you crank your wrist, if the rope gave in?

The scissors close their circuit, and you lift a small circle of cloth, leaving the clippers aside. It’s a little bigger than it needed to be, but the Mandalorian doesn’t complain when you properly apply bacta on the lesion, sitting like a statue with the visor shining dark blue at your face. The stars reflect distorted on his helmet with judging eyes, like they can hear your thoughts. Like they just know how being so close to the man you think about to warm cold nights is making your heart pump more blood that you need. To places that definitely don’t need it.

You raise your other hand and rest it on his bicep. It’s only to pull the sleeve a little higher. To give you more room to work. And it’s only with that touch that he flinches.

You immediately lift both hands. “Sorry, I—I’m sorry, does…does it hurt—?”

“—No.” Mando moves his good arm and grabs your hand roughly, bringing it to rest on his bicep once again. He clears his throat, unable to wash away the grainy strain on his voice. “No, it—it’s fine.” His large palm stays over yours for a moment, before pulling away slowly. Reluctantly.

You nod and continue your ministrations, massaging a little more bacta than necessary on the bite. Maker, you never want to stop touching him. The patch of olive skin burns hotter than the planet’s twin suns under your touch, and you feel under your other hand how every shift of your finger makes his bicep jump in response.

His flesh absorbs the ointment fast, and you’ve now covered even the surrounding area around the bite, so you lift your finger, a bit disappointed that your little moment of intimacy is over. Until you feel him tug at his end of the rope.

“Cut more,” he breathes, and you freeze before you can lift the hand off his arm, staring right at the visor with eyes round as moons.

“Cut—cut more? More cloth? Wh—”

“The venom will travel up my veins.” Mando’s voice is a little steadier, but it still doesn’t mask a strange tint of something that doesn’t sound quite like pain. “You need to check how far up it goes. If…if it goes into my chest…”

He doesn’t need to finish. You shuffle to your knees—a little clumsily because of the sand beneath—and let his arm fall to his side as you squeeze his strong bicep a little tighter. For support.

“Tell me when to stop.” The blades cut away at the fabric, revealing a vertical line of lovely skin with each snip. They go higher and higher, higher and higher, and it’s you who decides to stop when they almost reach his armpit. You rest the scissors next to your legs. The slit uncovers the upper half of his arm’s underside, and you can’t help it when one hand moves to rest on the pauldron and the other slips under the crevice to caress his skin.

Mando’s chest puffs with more air and moves quicker, and—fuck—he looks so broad like this. Sitting and injured, he still towers over you with the beskar and the mass of muscle beaten into him through years of fighting.

He could crush me. The idea pools hot in your core.

“What, uh, what am I looking for?” Your own voice is thick. It’s wrong, but you’re honest enough to admit it’s arousal.

“T-the veins.” You hear him gulp and imagine the apple on his throat bobbing up and down. “Feel around. Che—check if they’re protruding.” You comply, dragging your fingers up and down his burning, strong arm, getting caught up in how he tenses under your touch. He’s pulsing, sure enough, beating like a drum under your hand—you even manage to raise goosebumps when you give a test squeeze—but you can’t feel any veins.

“No.” The hunter exhales with relief and nods once, but his arm doesn’t follow, as it remains taut as wood. You don’t remove your hand. He doesn’t pull away. If anything, he leans into you.

An soft breeze raises a small cloud of sand and cools your face, whistling past you while it orders you to do it. “If it’s not pain,” you murmur, deciding it’s your turn to tense your end of the rope a little, “what do you feel?” You scratch your nails down his arm.

The gloved hand furthest away from you balls into a fist, clutching sand. “It—it, uh. It burns.” The words are dragged out and gritty, like they’re forcing their way out. He shivers and shuffles closer to you. “But—fuck—feels good. You—you feel good.” Encouraged, your nails sink into his flesh, testing the waters. Finally, it earns you a grunt, deep and rumbling its way between your thighs. In a split second, his arms fly to his shoulder, tugging at the cloak desperately, and you remove your hand from the opening to help him. It takes a few rough jerks, but the cloak eventually rips away from his pauldrons, and the Mandalorian throws it back. His hand travels to the side of his torso closest to you and signals. “Cut here.” He doesn’t offer an explanation this time.

Shit, you probably shouldn’t. But wetness is gathering around your folds and you’re not sure if you’ll actually get anywhere, but, Maker, you’re willing to try. Your hand is trembling when it finds the scissors next to you and you crouch slightly to cut away, eager and desperate to reveal more of the mysterious bounty hunter. This time, though, you don’t make a crevice, but instead cut a long rectangle from his waist to the side of his chest. You drop the scissors and the piece of fabric on top of the cloak and waste no time before your right palm crawls into the opening. Boiling skin welcomes your hand as it explores his naked torso, up a sturdy chest rising and falling rapidly, and back down again, savoring the sensation of soft skin over firm muscles flexing under your fingers. You stop at a trail of hair near his navel.

The Mandalorian growls. You scratch the hair lightly. The rope snaps.

Your hand slips outside when two hands grab your hips to lift you, setting you down to straddle Mando’s lap. You fall ungracefully, wobbling and grabbing at him to find your balance, until his steel arms wrap around your waist to press your chest to his. You grab his shoulders for support, and your warm breath clouds the beskar of his helmet. Your hips squirm unconsciously, making your core accidentally rub against something hard between the hunter’s legs. His grip on your back tightens and grinds you against him again, making him release a deep, primal moan against your ear. Fuck, you feel how hot liquid plops on your underwear as he ruts you against his erection, but somewhere in the back of your brain a puzzle solves itself in a snap and sends a pang of guilt to your chest.

“M-mando.” You sound whinier than you intended. “Mmando, I—I’ve heard about this, you’re poisoned, y-you don’t know what you’re d—”

“—Shut up,” he spits at you and pushes you roughly against him as a hand unwinds from your waist and wraps over your mouth. Your moans are muffled against his glove when a current shocks your body as your clit rubs just right over his bulge. You glance up at the stars, looking for guidance around the overwhelming pleasure threatening to break you, but they only stare back, burning brighter than before.

Suddenly, Mando pulls his hands away and pushes you off his lap. You fall back kneeling, worrying you’ve crossed a line somehow, but your anxieties disappear when you see him rip off his gloves and pull at your clothes hastily. You take the hint and help him undress you. The top garments he removes, but your underwear is ripped away and thrown to the side.

He whips around and finds his cloak, laying it on the sand and silently ordering with a finger to get on top. You shuffle on your knees until they reach the soft material, and—just when you’re about to turn around and beg him to touch you—the Mandalorian lifts the rectangle of cloth you cut away and wraps it around your eyes. Your vision gone but impossibly turned on, you feel his hands shove you back until you lay on the cloak.

Sand and hair tickle your face, and maybe it’s not the best idea to lay completely naked in the middle of a desert where you already know dangerous animals hide. The thought is quickly washed away by the heat of humid breath on your stomach. It throws you off for a moment, to feel a human gasp so clearly against your skin, but once you put two and two together the realization hits you so hard you slump limp on the ground.

The helmet…

You barely have time complete your thought. The Mandalorian climbs on top of you, a tuff of hair tickling your stomach. The trail of heat stops at your tits, where he takes a nipple into his mouth and bites down hard. You whimper to the sky.

“F-fuck, what—” He cuts you off when he laps at the injured nipple with fast, wide strokes of his tongue, before sucking hard on it. One palm holds down your chest, as the other comes up to squeeze your other breast, kneading and pulling the soft flesh like dough. You try to bite down your whimpers, but it’s too fucking much and they tumble outside urgent and needy.

Fuck, you should push him away. You both need to calm down before he forgets your body is attached to a living, breathing person and tears you apart. You—you—

The atmosphere seems to fall down on top of you when two thick fingers sink to the hilt inside your open hole effortlessly. You hum at the bliss while Mando’s wet tongue travels between your breasts, up your sternum, and leans into the curve of your throat, stopping only until it reaches your chin. You’re starting to cramp beneath him, trying to push down on his digits, but his body is too heavy over yours and fuck, fuck, you want him inside you.

His hand wraps around your cheeks and presses them together, making your mouth give in to the pressure and open up wide. His tongue—still salty with the taste of your own flesh—barges into the cave of your mouth and messily drags across its walls, your tongue, the roof, somehow everything at once with aimless movements that lack rhythm or pace.

And then his fingers start pumping. They start fast and hard and only get faster and harder, as they curl into a hook and hit something that makes you see the stars outside through the blindfold. Mando moans against your teeth, and you swallow every vibration.

“Yeah? T-there?” His mouth moves away from yours and trails the edge of your jaw, stopping at the edge and biting your neck. The two fingers working inside you push upwards to make room for a third one, and the calloused pad of his thumb rubs your clit up and down. Your scream echoes in the empty space of the sterile desert, now buzzing with life. “R-right there? Hm?” His voice hangs thick in the air, mixing with the loud static in your ears. Through the haze, you wonder momentarily what his face looks like right now. Probably red and sweaty, popping a vein or two.

“Fuck, I don’t k-know…I—I have to…” The Mandalorian removes all three fingers at once, making you yelp at the emptiness that they leave behind. Your pussy clenches a second too late and pulses around nothing, as you move in the darkness to find him again. You open your mouth to beg, but he grabs your shoulders before you can even gather some broken vocabulary together and he turns you around, pressing your chest and face against the cloak.

Resting your cheek on the cloak, you grunt at the abrupt change of position. Five fanned out fingers press down between your shoulder blades, restricting your movements and compressing all the air out of your lungs. You can’t breathe and you can’t wait, too stimulated to backpedal now, but not enough to be satiated.

An arm wraps around your midriff and roughly lifts your hips. You hear heavy breathing behind you and some incoherent mumbling, as a zipper lowers.

Something round and smooth pokes at your entrance.

Is…is that…?

It definitely feels like the head of his cock as it runs up and down your folds gathering moisture. It even twitches a little against your clit and he’s grunting with every movement but…but even without your sight to help it feels so big. It can’t be his cock, in what universe would he be that fucking bi—

A grunt and a slight retrieval of his hips for impulse is all you get as a warning before he slams into you, lurching you forward. It knocks every single thought out your head, jamming what little air you’d managed to inhale on your trachea. The stretch bites, straining against your walls at an uncomfortable angle. And then he grinds further inside, deeply and hard as the bulbous head of his cock stimulates just about every nerve inside your pussy at once. You choke on your own cry, desperately trying to hold on to some sanity as you focus on processing the burst of pleasure that casts a dark shadow over the pain. The feeling secures every muscle on your body so tightly you think your spine is going to snap.

And he holds there, pulsing angrily and breathing down hot against your shoulders. You feel a slow trail of flames burn your insides with every strong sequence of thum-thum-thums of his thick cock against your walls.

Stars, did he cum? Is that why he’s throbbing so violently, did he cum? It’s hard to tell when you’re so wet you’re sure you’re going to dehydrate tomorrow and fuck you only get wetter with the strumming and Maker you know the snake was poisonous but…but could he really want you this much?

He sucks in a gulp of dusty air through his teeth, grunts and holds you tighter, his arm strong as beskar around your midriff and a burning palm pressing you against the cloak, sinking it deeper into the sand.

Finally, the Mandalorian pulls out with a grunt, your hips following his with a sucking sound because of the grip of your walls against his girth. He stops right before the tip slips out, its ridge catching on your opening. And maybe whatever venom running through his veins dissipated because he doesn’t move for a second that feels like an eternity. Fleeting disappointment surges inside you because maybe…maybe it was just the serpent. Maybe he doesn’t really want you. You are the only fuckable thing for miles, and you’ve heard enough about the toxin to imagine how desperate he’d be. Stars, you feel like such an idi—

Mando’s hips suddenly crash against yours, sinking himself to the hilt.

You feel him everywhere. Fucking everywhere, even where he isn’t. The fat cock hammering into you randomly with no pace or metric, seemingly determined to taste every inch inside your cunt takes most of your attention, but the hand on your back kneads and pulls the thin skin there as best as it can. You try to brace yourself against something solid—anything—but when your hands form fists they find only handfuls of sand, and the delicate particles do nothing to steady you from the animalistic thrusts of the Mandalorian.

So you moan, long and high to try and release all the pleasure stockpiling inside of you with no exit routes. Mando answers with grunts all the way down in his glottis. A deep and angled snap of his hips hits you somewhere electrifying, and you feel something hot and liquid knot your pelvic muscles tighter. His skin slaps against yours obscenely, paired with the squelching of your pussy trying to engulf him deeper and deeper in spite of his size.

“T-take it,” you hear him growl behind you. Barely. Your ears ring and you can’t even listen to your own whimpers anymore. His length keeps coming, restless and infinite and fuck, you need to focus on something else, something outside to keep your head from slipping away. “Just—just f-fucking take me whole, you—"

Fuck, focus. Focus, count to ten, do something—

You grit your teeth and you can’t even warn him. Something drops into your pelvic muscles and you swear you can see the blue desert sky in a flash behind your eyelids and feel the blinking stars prickling the nerve endings on your back, making you spasm desperately. Your head spins, and you only feel pleasure. Only him.

Still half-passed out from your release, you hear it before you feel it. The wet sound contrasting the dry dunes of how he keeps using your cunt to get himself off. He’s not letting you come down, fall to the natural next step of your cycle and relax. Breathe. No, he keeps filling every last inch of you, faster now with the help of the additional wetness and holds you in that state of euphoria that keeps hitting you like a tide. Shit, are you cumming again?

“F-fuck—fuck—d-did you—ngh—cum? W-was that—” Another wave hits you and you clamp down mercilessly around him before he can get an answer. His long moan gets you wetter somehow, and you can’t even savor it before the strong forearm holding your waist pulls you upright against him.

Up is down as you try to figure out in the darkness where your body ended up. Something slumps behind you and pulls you down with it hard against the cushioning of the sand. You find yourself impaled on the Mandalorian’s cock, his chest to your back. He bends and opens his legs to grab yours, pulling them back and hooking them around his cuisses. Propped up with most of your weight on Mando’s hips, your feet barely graze the cloak below them.

You reach up to touch him but he beats you to it, wrapping his arms around your torso and grabbing the surely bruising skin of your tits. Your eyes roll back and you try you best to keep your head above the water, which proves incredibly difficult when you feel his lips on your jaw, his drool trailing down your neck. You turn your head and he doesn’t miss a beat before his tongue slips between your lips, tasting and exploring and almost drinking from you like you’re water in he’s been stranded in this desert for years.

Mando thrust up at you, resuming his senseless fucking. And maybe you’re a little greedy. Maybe it’s wrong, especially because you don’t have an excuse to act like this, but you roll down into his cock, wanting him everywhere and for as long as you can get him. His thrusts are almost impossible to meet and his thickness catches at your opening, but you work diligently—determined to have him buried as deeply as he wants to go. The beskar of his chest trembles against your shoulders with a vibrating, noiseless moan.

“You—you pretty t-thing,” he breathes lowly against your mouth. You grab his knees for support and push down harder. “I’ve want—wanted this—w-wanted you f-for so—so long.” He bites your lower lip. His voice sounds delirious.

Maker, it’s ridiculous. You’re bouncing your pussy on his stiff cock like an animal in heat, but his words warm your chest more than your core. You know it’s probably the poison talking, but you indulge in it. You let your hand cradle his cheek and bring your lips sweetly against his, pretending you’re his lover and not just a vessel for his release. He gasps into the kiss.

It’s with your lips that he finally lets go. It happens midthrust, so his cum spurts out of you and dribbles down his cock. It smears on your folds and, surely, on the cloak beneath. Stars, you’re shaking. Your legs spasm with the promise of another orgasm that almost—almost happened. Still holding you, Mando pulls out, and the rest of his seed spills on wool and sand.

What now? If not the sweat and the fucking, then his release surely evacuated the venom by now. The Mandalorian pants behind you, just as spent and exhausted, and what the hell are you supposed to say to each other now? You squirm uncomfortably at the dilemma, and your slit accidentally drags against something upright beneath you. Mando winces at the contact.

Maker, is he still hard? How—?

Fingers dig into your arms and force you forward and away from him. You fall on top of the cloak, barely pillowing your fall with your forearms before you feel the Mandalorian turning you around to face him.

You lay open below him, ruined and confused in the darkness as to what he’s planning for you next. Your clit pulses with equal parts arousal and apprehension at the uncertainty, but it decides for the former when you feel him dip his fingers in your entrance and scoop his cum and yours. The sound of him pumping himself faster and faster is muffled by his moaning. It’s filthy gibberish: loose words of everything he’s dreamt about doing to you; of how he’s going to fuck you over and over again; of how you’re going to take every drop of him; of how good it’s going to be for you.

Four fingers land on your clit and work it wetly up and down. A whine escapes you and you’re so sensible it almost hurts and your head swims and he’s still talking but there’s something…something sincere about his words. Something that hides beneath the frantic movements against your bud that feels almost reverent. Like the snake’s toxin only lifted a veil, revealing the Mandalorian’s pent up lust and primal instincts below his layers of unyielding discipline.

“S-so, so fucking good for me, so—"

You cry out when your walls tighten around nothing with powerful contractions, deciding at some point of the frenzy that consumes you that you’ll take advantage of this queer land and the limbo its night has thrown both of you into. Deciding you’ll let the Mandalorian explore his more primitive urges and fuck you into tomorrow, whatever “tomorrow” may mean for your relationship with him.

The sound of him fucking his hand quickens and you hear it closer to your body. You can’t tell exactly where.

“I—I—gonna c-cum.” His voice tightens in his throat. “Where?”

“Everywhere,” you answer breathlessly, and you mean it.

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian smut #the mandolorian x reader #mando x reader #mando x you #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin smut #din djarin x you #the mandalorian sex pollen #star wars smut

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firstofficerwiggles · 3 years

Text

Dress Code, Part 2

Link to Part 1, Part 3 (T rated), Part 3 (M rated)

Pairing: Din Djarin x female reader

Rating: T

Warnings: Some swearing, Jealous!Din, sexy dancing, touching

Summary: You continue to challenge Din about what you choose to wear. Pretty fluffy overall. Plans for a Part 3.

Word Count: ~4200

Author’s Note: I am not good at making up planet names so I will admit to totally stealing these. Eridani is the name of a real star and Alastria and Chantil are both from Star Trek. Also again a little hint of Ed Sheeran in the dancing scene.

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“Are you serious? More snow?” Your voice is incredulous as you fly over the frosted winter landscape of the planet Alastria. It’s been two weeks since you won your wager against the Mandalorian and you haven’t had any opportunity to wear anything that he could consider even remotely revealing. First he took you to Hoth, and although you and the child had a great time playing in the snow, you spent the whole time covered in sweaters and a giant parka. You had laughed it off though, enjoying his cleverness at finding a way to circumvent your win. But then, he had dragged you to Eridani and Chantil each one colder than the next. Plus to add to his diabolical plan, he has purposely been keeping the Razor Crest’s internal temperature low in order to ‘save on fuel’ so you can’t even wear your lighter clothes on board. You’ve been so covered up you might as well be wearing your own suit of beskar.

You suppose it hasn’t been all that bad though, you begrudgingly admit to yourself. The three of you have been spending more time together as you’ve been traveling. Lately it seems like Din always finds a way to be around you and the child. In the past he’s preferred his pilot’s seat while flying even with the autopilot engaged, but now he seems to find little projects to do wherever you are. Like the evening you were cuddled up with the baby telling him various fairy tales and Din had sat near you both spending the whole time cleaning the same blaster. Or when you were baking cookies, and he had decided to reorganize some supplies that happened to be right next to where you were working. Finally, the other day he had even thrown off the pretense of being busy and joined in and helped you and the child build a blanket fort in the hull. As the baby napped on a pile of pillows inside the fort, Din had stayed with you in there, just resting for once while you both had the chance.

With all of this closeness, you had hoped there might be some movement on the romantic front between the two of you, but there hasn’t been anything definitive in that area. You must have replayed him calling you ‘sweetheart’ a million times in your head, but he hasn’t said anything like that again. You’ve tried to show him how interested you are, wearing your necklace everyday so he can see it, smiling at him as much as possible, teasing him, and going so far as to touch him with little brushes of your hand, a pat on the shoulder, or even a squeeze of his arm whenever you get the opportunity. He seems receptive enough to your flirting, yet he’s given you so little response you wonder if he’s realized what you’re trying to do.

The Mandalorian’s voice brings you out of your musing, “I thought we could visit my old mentor, Davi. His town might be in the mountains, but it’s nice, I think you’ll like it, despite the cold.” He smirks a little under his helmet. He knows he should probably feel a bit guilty at the tour of icy worlds he’s been giving you, but honestly, he’s been enjoying getting under your skin each time you land on another freezing planet and he hears you sigh over having to bundle up again. He should probably admit to himself that he does miss seeing your dresses, but you look cute even under all those layers. Plus he was right, your necklace looks good with all of those sweaters and heavy knits you’ve been forced to wear.

“Who is Davi?” you ask, curious to know more about Din’s past.

“He sponsored me when I first joined the guild. I was his apprentice for two years before I starting hunting my own bounties.” Din tells you. “He’s retired now, and he lives with his niece, Isa. I think you’ll like them both.”

Even with the snow and ice, you can see that Davi and Isa’s town is charming, and you enjoy the quaint buildings with their pretty trim. It reminds you of the gingerbread houses you used to make as a child in the winter. The majestic mountains make for a stunning backdrop too and you are glad that Din brought you here. He notices the happy light in your eyes as he says, “I knew you’d like it here,” rather smugly.

“Yes, yes, you know everything,” you reply, rolling your eyes only slightly at him.

You arrive at a brightly lit home that oozes warmth and coziness from its frosty windows, and when Davi throws open the door, you receive a cordial welcome that makes you feel like he is your old friend too. Davi is thrilled to see Din and even more delighted to meet you and the baby. Even though Din has introduced you as his friend, Davi teases the Mandalorian about finally meeting his lovely family. Davi’s niece, Isa is also quite pleased to meet you and she even hugs you in greeting. She’s a pretty young woman in her early 20s with bright eyes and a cheerful smile.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” she tells you excitedly, “I thought I was in for another ‘guy’s visit’ having to hear all of their old hunting tales again.”

“Oh come on, Isa, you love that story about the crazy Gungan we had to chase through the swamp,” Davi reminds her with a laugh.

“Sure, maybe the first 100 times I heard it,” Isa retorts. “I’m looking forward to some quality girl time instead.”

“That sounds great,” you tell her. You have been living in a heavily testosterone-laden climate and it has been forever since you’ve had the opportunity to hang out with another woman and just do ‘girl’ things. “What did you have in mind?”

“I’d love to go shopping and maybe get our hair styled too?” She suggests, “There’s this great party tonight and I wanna look fabulous!”

“Count me in!” you reply enthusiastically. You look over at Din for a moment though, hoping he’s not going to insist that he needs to accompany you shopping like he usually does. But he’s obviously comfortable here and he just gives you a small nod. “Let’s go now.”

Isa notices your exchange with interest, but doesn’t say anything, yet. She can’t wait to get you alone though and grill you all about your relationship with the mysterious warrior. You head back out into the snowy streets with Isa chatting excitedly about the shops and the fantastic salon that she’ll be taking you to. You arrive at a store with many party dresses, they’re beautiful but most of them are a bit risqué too. You’re just starting to look when Isa interrupts you with “Ok, spill, I want to hear all about you and Mando.”

“There’s not much to tell, I’m the nanny to his foundling.” You try to tell her, but your cheeks flush and she knows there’s more.

“Oh c’mon, I can tell you’re not ‘just-the-nanny’,” she laughs lightly. “He’s never ever brought a woman to meet Davi before.”

“Well, a few weeks ago I thought there was more starting to happen between the two of us,” you say and then tell her about the necklace and your silly wager. “I really thought that was leading to something…” you trail off and shrug, “but I guess not?”

“What?!? There is definitely something happening,” Isa asserts. “That was super romantic of him to buy you that necklace, and he clearly gets jealous of other men paying attention to you. He likes you.” She says it like it’s a fact. “You like him, don’t you?”

“Maker, I do, so much, probably too much,” you admit to Isa. “He’s the best man I’ve ever known. I know he seems rough and dangerous, and he can be, but he is also very kind, respectful, and considerate. You should see how gentle and soft he can be with the child. I don’t even care that I’ve never seen his face.”

“Your whole face lights up when you talk about him,” Isa is beaming at you. “I think you need to tell him how much you care.”

“But if he doesn’t feel the same way, it will just make everything awkward and weird.” You want to believe Isa, that Mando reciprocates your feelings, but the alternative scares you too much.

“He feels the same way.” She is confident about that. “But, maybe you could just give him a little push, feel him out more,” she says, raising an eyebrow at you.

“What are you suggesting?”

“Let’s find you a killer dress and make sure he takes you to this party tonight.” Isa turns back to the dresses pulling out several that are very sexy. “It’s in the hot springs caverns and it’s warm and steamy in there all the time,” Isa explains.

“Wait, so no bundling up?” you ask hopefully.

“Just for the walk there, but once we’re inside you’ll be plenty warm. So, we’re going find you something that shows plenty of skin,” Isa declares.

Gathering a pile of garments, Isa pulls you to the dressing rooms and then you both try on several looks that range from seductive to downright lascivious. She is partial to an electric blue dress that is tight on her figure and has several cutouts exposing various sections of her skin. The dress you find is surprise, surprise, silver, in a halter style. The bodice is tight fitting with a deep vee that ends just at the top of your stomach before flaring out into a flirty mini skirt looking like molten metal is pouring off of your hips. Your back is almost totally bare save for two delicate straps that cross over one another to hold the bodice in place. It is a lot more skin than you normally show, but you have to admit you look great. Light winks off of your necklace and you smile to yourself thinking about how your Mandalorian might react to seeing you like this.

“That’s the one!” Isa announces handing you a pair of strappy stilettos to try on with the dress. They are the perfect final touch. The rest of your time with Isa passes quickly in a happy haze of hair styling and gossip. She tells you about her friends and the guy she wants to impress. You’re really looking forward to tonight, but you’re worried, “How are we going to convince Mando to go to this party?” you wonder to Isa, “It’s not really his thing.”

“Leave everything to me.” Isa sounds like she is up for the challenge.

You and Isa return to her home giggling cheerfully about your big plans for the evening. Din loves seeing you so happy, his only regret is that you can’t have more days like this one. He had a long talk with Davi about all that has happened since he first found the child and the dangerous path it has thrust all three of you on. Fortunately for Din, his old mentor is more tactful than his niece merely providing a friendly ear as Din lists all of his concerns for your life with him. Davi can tell that Din cares for you more than he is admitting, but he doesn’t push the point. Instead, he calmly suggests that you appear to be able to meet the trials of living with a bounty hunter, otherwise you probably would have left by now. Din nodded in agreement to that, making Davi smile knowingly to himself.

As you sit down to dinner with everyone, Isa chats animatedly about your fun day together and suggests that you prolong your visit by a few days. Din, who ate his own meal in private beforehand, seems amenable to the idea, this town is fairly remote and only Greef Karga remembers Mando’s connection to Davi. As Isa talks, she manages to casually bring up the party to her uncle. Din is only half-listening as he is focused on the baby actually eating his food and not playing with it, until Isa says, “And you don’t have to worry about our safety, Uncle, because Mando will be there to watch over us!”

“Wait, what are you saying?” Din’s head snaps up.

“I think it’s a great idea!” Davi replies, delighted, “The ladies are all excited for you to take them to that party in the caverns tonight.”

“A party?” Din sounds like you are going to drag him to a deadly ambush. Except he feels more confident that he can handle the deadly ambush.

“Oh come on, you’re still a young man, you’ll have a wonderful time with these beautiful women. And I can take care of the little one,” Davi urges him, “after all he loves his Uncle Davi.” Davi tickles the child under the chin and receives a joyful coo in return.

“Please, Mando,” you give him your most hopeful look, “I promise we’ll have fun.”

Din sighs, but he knows he can’t say no when you’re looking at him like that, he’s not made of stone. “Alright.”

“Great! We’ll go get dressed!” Isa springs into action pulling you with her. You both manage to get ready in record time knowing that you don’t want to give Din any opportunity to back out on your plans. Before you leave her room though, both you and Isa make sure your cloaks are completely covering your outfits for the night. You caution Isa that if Din has even one inkling of what you have on, you won’t be going anywhere. You are thankful your cloak is so long that only the toes of your shoes peek out.

Isa leads you out of town towards the caverns and you see other young people heading in your direction. She discreetly stays ahead of you and Din the whole time under the guise of being the leader but mostly so you two are walking side by side. The new shoes are higher than anything you’ve worn for a while so you lean in and take Din’s arm. He seems to take this as perfectly natural and helps steady you on your feet. When you arrive at the caverns, balmy air hits you and you breathe it in welcoming the warmth. Isa ushers you in and leads you to a place where you can leave your cloaks. You can’t resist being a bit dramatic now that your big moment is here and you let your cloak drop from your shoulders in one fluid motion before handing it over. Then you do a small twirl to let the Mandalorian get a good look at you.

Din’s mouth goes completely dry and he feels like his heart skips several beats as he takes you in. He is thankful that his helmet hides his expression because there is no way he could hide the raw desire he is feeling right now. You look more gorgeous than he could have imagined. The silvery dress makes your curves sparkle alluringly and all he can think about is running his hands all over the silky looking material and then moving on to all of your soft exposed skin. Plus the color of the dress perfectly matches his armor, making it look like you belong with him. He feels as if all of the blood in his body is rushing to one sensitive spot and it’s making him slightly lightheaded. You are smiling at him expectantly, but he has forgotten how to speak. He has to clear his throat twice before he can ground out, “What is that?”

Ok, that wasn’t what you expected him to say. “It’s my new dress,” you retort, a little exasperated.

“That is not a dress. That is pieces of fabric pretending to be a dress.” He sounds frustrated and like he is trying to control himself.

“Hey, you remember our deal, you can’t say anything critical about my clothing.” You give him a pointed look.

“You look like walking sex.” He hisses at you.

“Well, I am going to take that as a compliment.” You flip your hair over your shoulder and huff off in the direction of Isa and a group of friends she has found. If Mando wants to be a fuddy-duddy all night, you’re going to let him. Isa is fun and you’re sure her friends will be too. You put your smile back on and square your shoulders in determination as you stride over towards them.

The caverns have been lit with several colorful lights which bounce off of the icy walls and the pools of hot steaming water. There’s a band playing music with a strong beat, a lively dance floor, and several servers circulating with fancy drinks. Isa cheerfully introduces you to her friends, one of whom is a handsome man with golden brown hair and a charming smile, named Guy. He seems to be a bit of a scoundrel, but when he voices how beautiful you are, you can’t help but be flattered. He’s telling you about his job as a pilot for a transport ship, trying to impress you with tales about near misses with ex-Imperials, when he notices the Mandalorian who is not-so-subtly invading your personal space.

Din had watched you walk away, a bit mesmerized by your swinging hips. Of course, by the time he gets his feet moving in your direction, some asshole is already flirting with you. He sees the man flash you a toothy smile and he even has the audacity to lean in and pick up your necklace, Din’s necklace, under the guise of admiring it, all the while staring blatantly at your breasts. Din hears his pulse roaring in his ears as he comes to loom over you and glare at this jerk.

“Hi, Mando,” you say a little sarcasm in your voice at the greeting, “meet Isa’s friend, Guy.”

“Guy?” Mando drawls out incredulously.

“Hey man, nice to meet you,” Guy is affable. “Didn’t catch your name?”

Mando just stares at him and then says, “Seriously, your name is Guy?”

“Guy was just telling me about making the Kuiper run in under 20 parsecs,” you break into the frosty exchange.

“Impossible,” is all Mando says drily.

“No, really,” Guy insists, “I managed to do it by skimming by a black hole.”

“It’s impossible,” Mando says again.

“Maybe you and Guy can trade piloting tips?” you say, adding a small chuckle to ease the tension.

“Not fucking interested.” Mando is being downright rude to him. You’ve never known him to act this way to someone who wasn’t a threat. Luckily, Isa comes to your rescue as she brings her friend Lisbeth over to meet Mando. He seems to come back to himself a bit and is polite as he greets Isa’s friend.

“Are you two together?” Guy questions you nodding his head in Din’s direction.

“Not like that,” you reply, “we’re just friends.” But you say it as if you don’t really believe it.

“You sure?” Guy smiles shrewdly at you.

“Well, he’s never said otherwise,” you conclude with a small shrug.

“In that case, how would you like to dance with me?” Guy holds out his hand to you and gives you a wink. You can’t help but glance back at Mando for a moment, but then turn your gaze back to Guy and say yes. You don’t imagine that Din will ask you to dance anyway as he seems determined to be a grump tonight, plus you’re pretty certain he doesn’t know how to dance.

Guy leads you to the crowded floor and you begin moving to the beat of the heart-pumping music. At first you’re just dancing next to Guy but then he starts closing the distance between you two and eventually puts his hands on your hips. He pulls you in a little closer to him but then suddenly he’s gone, being shoved away roughly by a beskar-clad arm.

“If you’re going to dance, you’re going to dance with me.” Mando tells you possessively. His hands replacing Guy’s on your hips, pulling you in close to him.

“Mando!” you squeak out in surprise at his abrupt appearance. “Is he ok?” You turn your head to look for Guy, embarrassed that Din has so rudely dismissed him.

“I don’t give a damn,” Din tells you as he reaches up and turns your chin so that you are looking back at him. Ironically, the lead singer of the band is belting out a warning to a woman not to fuck with his love. You face flushes as you look into the black visor of the helmet.

“I- I didn’t think you’d want to dance,” you stammer out, stunned by his actions.

“You didn’t give me a chance to ask you,” he replies and he begins to direct your hips to sway with his to the music. You move with him in a sultry pattern. You were wrong, Din does know how to dance. You move your arms up to encircle his neck as you let yourself relax into the movements, your bodies syncing together with the beat.

As the music changes a bit, he turns you in his arms and pulls you against him until you are flush with his body. You lean into his chest feeling the cool metal of his cuirass against your bare back and he dips his head down to your ear, and says “I like dancing with you.” His voice seems huskier than normal.

“I do too,” you tell him in reply. You’re feeling bolder now and you roll your hips over his and brush against something hard that is definitely not beskar. He groans deeply and then turns you around again so he can look in your eyes as he asks, “Do you have any idea what you do to me?”

“I think I have some idea,” you say flirtatiously and give him a wink. He pulls you back into him with a growl and guides your body into a move so sensual it makes your head spin. His hands are on your bare back now and even though it’s only the leather of his gloves that touch you, the heat coming off of them is undeniable. You can’t resist telling him, “Your hands feel good on me.” He doesn’t say anything in reply but merely tightens his grip on you and then lets his hands explore more of your back.

You lose track of time as you focus only on the Mandalorian and the way you move together. You’ve both become quieter the more you dance as if you no longer can handle verbally teasing each other and just want to feel. Each song blends into the next, and it’s like you are the only two people in the room. A sonic charge could go off and you wouldn’t even notice. When the lights flicker to signal the end of the party, you’re surprised. It takes you a moment to come back to reality, you feel like you’ve just awoken from the middle of an intoxicating dream and your head is a little dizzy. Fortunately, Din seems more in control, and he guides you towards Isa and the exit. Isa! You completely forgot about her. When you reach her, she gives you a sneaky smile and hands you your cloak. As you take it from her, she leans in and whispers, “I told you so.” Din takes the cloak from your hands and places it around your shoulders covering you back up against the cold. Then he takes your hand in his and threads his fingers through yours as he leads you back out into the dark night. All three of you are quiet as you walk back to Isa’s home. When you arrive, Din tells Isa, “We won’t come in, we’ll just let the child sleep here and come back in the morning.”

“Not too early,” Isa says rather cheekily, “I’m sure you’ll need your rest.”

As you head back to the ship with Din, your stomach flips at the idea of being alone with him all night. You shiver a little in anticipation.

“Are you cold?” he asks, noticing the shiver.

“Only a little,” you tell him, not wanting to give away the real reason.

“Maybe you should be wearing more clothing,” Din says, but there is a teasing tone to his voice now.

You reach the ship and head inside. It’s a little chilly in there but not as bad as you thought it might be. You whisk your cloak off of you again, headless of the cold, wanting Din to see you in the dress again.

“I’ll make you a new deal,” he says, his helmet moving up and down as if he is looking you over. “I’ll take you to some warmer planets and I won’t complain about your clothing, but only if you promise to never wear that dress in public again.”

The dress has served its purpose, better than you could have anticipated. “Alright, it’s a deal,” you tell him with a smile.

“Although,” Din drawls out, “if you want to wear it again when we’re alone together, I’d like that.”

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Thank you for reading! I promise there will be a Part 3 (if I can, I’ll do one T rated and one M rated). Please let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list.

@sleepwithacommunist @im-the-nerdiest-of-them-a11 @rueblogsthings @mackycat11 @tv-zepeda @remmyswritings @dee-rosemary @boomtownboy @mandosboobiez @hoodjarin @haley7242

#the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian x female reader #din djarin x female reader #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin fanfiction

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