I'm Not Interested | Oberyn Martell X F!Reader

𝘧𝘢𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘧𝘶𝘭 || joel miller x reader

𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺 || joel wasn't looking for a follower, or a protégé, or an employee— whatever you're supposed to be— when he saved some dumbass kid from a couple runners. but he ended up with you anyways, and you swore to always be faithful to him... in every way.

𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵 || 9.2k

𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 || smut (18+ only; oral f receiving, unprotected sex, very slight dacryphilia kinda?, a touch of degradation and dumbification in there, and virginity loss with some pain and one mention of blood), heavy age gap (not specified but the reader is absolutely an adult), insecure crybaby reader, unrequited love/pining, reader wants to fuck joel so bad it makes her look stupid (and we love that for her cause same), angst, tess getting kinda screwed over but only because it's absolutely necessary for the plot, emotionally repressed joel, mention of reader's parents being deceased (implied to be infected)

this fic does not contain spoilers for anything but minor details from episode one!

They were doing that thing again— where they talked in front of you, as if you weren’t there.

“So we make the run tonight,” Tess decided, standing while Joel sat on the worn-out sofa with his hands clasped and his elbows resting on his knees.  “We should be back by four, that’s when the FEDRA boys have their shift change, so we can avoid too much risk of getting caught.”

“What should I do?” you piped up.  They both looked at you with that oh yeah, she’s here glare and Tess sighed; she didn’t try very hard to hide her frustration with you, but at the same time, she was actually nice to you when she was in a good mood (which was rare).  Joel was less mean but also less nice— he stayed steady in his neutral-to-mildly-irritated state, and you figured if he wanted you to fuck off, he would’ve said so (probably in those exact words, too).

At the same time, they both instructed you flatly: “Keep watch.”

You sighed, shoulders sinking.  “Again?  Can’t I at least—?”

“You’re safer here,” Joel insisted.

“Yeah, and your gun is safer in the box under the bed, but it’s not gonna do shit to protect you if you never take it out,” you countered.

Tess scoffed.  “And what are you gonna do to protect us?”

“I wasn’t,” you admitted.  “You know I’m a great shot, but I wasn’t gonna try to shoot anybody.  I’m quieter than both of you.  I can get in and out better— and nobody’s looking for me.  Everybody knows you’re smuggling—”

“Not everybody,” Joel defended himself in a mumble.

“ — so if I do get caught, I can probably get out of a search,” you bargained.

“And what are you gonna do to get out of a search?” Tess smirked.  “Bat your eyelashes?”

That did sting, but you rolled your eyes and hoped you had effectively looked like it didn’t affect you at all.  “If implying that I’m pretty enough to get out of a search is supposed to be an insult, I can’t wait to hear one of your compliments, Tess,” you replied— but your voice was soft and almost shaky, not as confident as the comeback merited.  That summarized you pretty well: you had the will to be tough, but when it was time to really go for it, your body failed you and your hands got shaky and your eyes watered.  Almost anything could make you cry, Tess had already made fun of you for it; Joel just seemed to get really uncomfortable when you started crying, but you always did your best to hide it from him.  It just didn’t usually work.

Your whole face probably lit up when you caught Joel’s suppressed smile— did he think your joke was funny?  He hadn’t been smiling when Tess made fun of you, so it had to be what you said— or maybe he was thinking of something he would say if he cared enough to say it, some comment about how you could do more than that to get out of being searched.  He didn’t seem the type to make comments like that, but he was well aware what guards might let (or make) a girl do to avoid punishment.

“Whatever,” Tess decided, shaking her head, “you’re not coming with us, that’s the point.”

“Joel gets a say, too!” you blurted out.  “You can’t just pick for him that I’m not coming, he has to—”

“You’ll stay here,” he interrupted.  So much for getting Joel to let you go— you thought maybe he would side with you, for once.  Deflating, you nodded, and they stopped paying attention to you at the same time that you stopped paying attention to them.

Your mind wandered in times like this, when they were talking and it was clear that it didn’t concern you; Tess said once that you had an ‘overactive imagination’, but she hadn’t said it in a really mean way (like she said most things).  You didn’t want Joel to think that you were always daydreaming, but you couldn’t help it sometimes— you really just hoped that he didn’t know he was the subject of so many of your thoughts.

Truth was, he’d caught your eye long before he even knew you existed.  You’d seen him around, doing all those odd jobs he did to make ends meet, and thought he was… well, handsome, but not just that.  Mysterious.  Intimidating, though he didn’t exactly intimidate you— okay, he did, but not like he did everybody else.  He intimidated others because they were afraid he would hurt them; he intimidated you because you kind of wanted him to hurt you.  Not, you know, bad, just… maybe a hand around the neck or pinning you to a wall or something?

It wasn’t in spite of your inexperience that you had thoughts like that— it was because of it; you had been lonely for a long, long time, and maybe it was just fantasy, but you always wanted someone like Joel.  You wanted someone to take care of you, protect you.  You were just guessing that he was capable of that, but he proved it when you met for the first time.

It wasn’t exactly a meet-cute, or even just a pleasant way to meet; you were short on rations, because you’d given most of yours away to Mrs. Davis who was too old and weak now to earn any extra for herself, and someone offered to pay you ten if you snuck something they could sell out of the old mall in the QZ… well, that went about as poorly as anyone would’ve expected.

You asked Joel what he was doing there, after he’d saved you from the runners, but he refused to tell you.  Either way, it was the best luck you ever had that he showed up and fought them off.  For a moment, he’d held you close to him as he pulled you away from the Infected; you wished, later, that you hadn’t been too terrified to appreciate that.

Ever since, you’d sworn yourself to him— in more ways than one, but he only knew about the main one: you wanted to assist him however you could, figuring after he saved your life that you should dedicate it to his service.  Well, Joel had never been interested in your assistance, or anything else about you.  It was actually Tess' idea to let you stay: "if she wants to help, let her do it for free," she whispered to Joel, and he shrugged, and he did.  That was how it ended up like this: you were the squeaky, wobbly third wheel of Joel and Tess’ operation, more often than not doing the least important work if not filling your time with essentially goose-chase tasks they invented to keep you occupied.  Keep watch and listen to the radio were your biggest assignments; just wait here was another common one, when they were too lazy to call it one of the other two.

Tess left a little while later, and Joel laid down on the sofa.  You broke away from your thoughts and tried to make yourself useful— you got up to rinse the dishes, humming a random tune to yourself as you worked.  You were already back inside your head, wondering if you should tell Joel it was a song you’d heard on his radio and had stuck in your head ever since.  Probably not worth it; it usually didn’t go well when you tried to talk about things like that.  Joel and Tess talked about before a lot— well, it wasn't that often, because it wasn't very productive to talk about it.  But they talked about it occasionally and you never had anything to say.  Once, you tried to weigh in: they were reminiscing on concerts before the outbreak, bands and artists they remembered, and you chirped about how "I read about that in a book once!"

They both glared at you, and you didn't say anything else.  But you didn’t take it too personally, they just didn’t want to feel old— but you didn’t think either of them were old!  These days, old wasn’t a matter of years, it was really just about usefulness— like poor Mrs. Davis, she was old, she couldn’t do much for herself anymore— and they were both… actually, they were both significantly more useful than you.  That made you sad.  But at least Joel had helped you get better with guns— not that he ever let you carry one. 

“I didn’t ask you to do that,” Joel broke the silence as you washed his favorite mug.

“I know,” you said back, voice light and chipper.  “You don’t have to.”

You felt his eyes linger on you for a moment after that, but he didn’t say anything else.

~

Though they had decided already that you weren’t joining them on the run, you ended up there— mostly by happenstance— when Joel and Tess met with the buyer who wanted half of what they managed to bring back.  Not many people in the QZ could afford that kind of contraband, so it made sense that it was one of the FEDRA soldier’s bankrolling this.  They were by no means rich, but they had a lot of pull and could provide all sorts of ration cards and promises to look the other way if future issues arose.  He couldn’t guarantee safe movement out and back in through the boundaries of the city, but he at least promised to look the other way in any future run-ins with the law.

“So that’s it: you’ll leave at eleven, you’re back by four, and you bring me my share the next day during my break?” the soldier confirmed.

“Yep,” Tess agreed.  “Quick and painless.  Hopefully.”

You didn’t expect the man’s eyes to land on you, but you didn’t particularly care for it.  "Is your little lap dog coming, too?" he smirked, glancing at Joel after he was finished raking his stare over you.

Your face got hot instantly, with shame and confusion.  "I— I'm not in his lap," you denied, "that's not— we don't—"

“No,” Joel interrupted firmly, “she’s not coming.”

There was an awkward silence, the place where he might’ve said and she’s not my lap dog, if he cared much about the accusation.  Tess seemed to be hanging onto that silence nearly as tightly as you were.

“Whatever,” the soldier finally brought everyone’s attention back to the conversation, “just meet me here tomorrow at half past one, and we’ll see what you’ve got.”

You were still thinking about that conversation that night— while you were keeping watch, like Joel had asked you to.  It was really boring; you spent most of the time on the couch, reading a book you’d bought off someone for a few rations.  After a while, your curiosity got the better of you, and you started snooping around Joel’s apartment.  There wasn’t much to look at… he didn’t own much, just a few shirts— actually, you thought those jeans he always wore might be his only pair…

Your search led you to his bed.  Even with no one here to see you do it, you were a little embarrassed to lean in and take a whiff of his pillow— but it was totally worth it.  It smelled just like him, that warm piney kind of scent he had; in times like this, not many people could afford to smell nice, but Joel could.  Not to say that he was the type to splurge on all the nicest stuff, you were pretty sure he didn’t even own cologne, but he owned shampoo and deodorant, so that put him in the 80th percentile for hygiene in the Boston QZ.

But it wasn’t just those products you smelled on his sheets— there was something quintessentially Joel to it all, something impossible to define but incredibly addictive.  It was instinctual, the way you got in his bed and curled up in those sheets, burying yourself in the comfort of him.  It was so easy to imagine how he might hold you, now that you were here— all you were missing was his strength, his weight, slow and steady breaths behind you as he drifted to sleep…

You woke up when you heard the door shut.  Startled into sitting up, you were hoping you’d have time to get out of his bed before he saw you— but he was already standing there, staring at you.  He was just a shape in the dark, so you couldn’t see his face, but you heard the exasperated sigh.

“I thought I told you to sleep on the couch,” he said.

“R-right, sorry,” you coughed, recalling last time this happened with a pained wince.

“Better yet, I thought I told you to keep watch!”

“You know you just say that,” you mumbled, “so you can keep me away from the real work.”

He didn’t say anything, probably because he knew you were right— but even if he’d wanted to, he couldn’t, because Tess walked in a second later.  “Can’t believe he tried to stiff us,” she was saying as she walked in, half-laughing in frustration.  “Well, yeah I can,” she added a second later.

Her attitude changed when she saw you in the bed.  “I— I’ll go back to my—” you started, but you ended up just getting up and leaving in a hurry before you could really finish your thought.

Wiping a small tear from under your eye quickly, you walked out of Joel’s apartment and started for your own bunk across the city— even though it was more likely than not that somebody would hassle you for walking around during curfew.

Yes, if you had a little more self-respect, you would just stop hanging around those two and find some other work to do, but Joel had done something for you that you could never repay and never forget.  He didn’t have to love you the way you loved him— and you’d been sure for a while that he never would— but couldn’t he at least be a little nicer?  You wouldn’t feel right being anywhere but at his side, no matter how much he made it seem like he never wanted you there at all.

~

Honestly, you did consider not going back the next morning— but you figured they might actually need you for the next part.  Okay, not need, but they could at least use you for something: after smuggling anything in, you need a fence, someone to pawn this stuff off.  Joel and Tess did a decent job of keeping a low profile, but it was even easier to do so when they had someone like you moving contraband around Boston’s population.

So, after a few hours of sleep on that radically uncomfortable cot, you decided to head back to Joel’s place.  The sun was just above the horizon by this time, but only the people working early shifts for their rations were up now; you liked the city best when it was quiet like this, but then again, you liked almost everything better quiet.

Usually, Joel’s apartment was the same way.  But when you walked in, the energy was completely different than you were used to.  Where you’d normally find Tess counting up the score while Joel sipped on coffee (or liquor, depending most on the hour), instead you walked in on what was clearly a lover’s quarrel.

The thing was, this was not your typical argument— they were doing it Joel and Tess style, which is to say, as repressed as possible.  In fact, they weren’t even talking when you walked in, but just the way they were standing was indicative of the discomfort they were clearly trying not to acknowledge.

Tess was at the window, arms crossed, looking at the view; and you knew that was a bad sign, because there was no view to be had, the QZ was an eyesore and she complained about it all the time.  Joel was sitting at the table, facing the other way, his hand squeezing his own fist instead of the handle of his mug— it didn’t look injured, but his face still had a hint of pain on it.

“I’m sorry—” you mumbled, not sure what you were apologizing for yet, but Tess interrupted you.

“I’ll go,” she decided, walking over to the table.

“Okay,” Joel agreed, not looking at her.

Well, you were no relationship expert, and you didn’t even know what they were arguing about… but you knew that was pretty cold.  “So that’s all you’re gonna say to me?” Tess prompted him, her tone tight and her eyes red.

You kept your head low, as if that would hide the fact that you could clearly see and hear all this.  

“Yeah,” Joel decided, not as aloof as usual; it reminded you of how he usually spoke to you, that frustration, but it was definitely different.  More… exhausted.  “Yeah, it is.”

Tess put her weight predominantly on one leg, her hips shifting, as she let out a scoffing sort of breath.  For a moment, she looked at you; you looked back at her shyly from beneath your brows before looking away.  Why would she look at me right now?

Shaking her head, she left, mumbling to herself but you couldn’t make it out.  The door slammed behind her.  Joel sighed next.

“Everything okay?” you asked sheepishly, twisting your boot on the floor to watch the shapes it made in the thin layer of dust.

“Clearly,” he insisted, and the sarcasm was obvious though his voice was neutral.  You could tell he didn’t want you to prod more— anyone who knew Joel for two minutes would know that— but you still chewed your lip as you wondered what you should do.

Your attention turned to the stacks of contraband on the table; most of it was perfectly legal material to own, just not legal to acquire from outside the city’s perimeter.  “Looks like a good haul this time,” you noticed, hoping a change of subject would soothe him a little.  Maybe it did, but he didn’t show it.  He just kept squeezing his fist, and you gently sat down across from him at the table— and you started doing what you figured you should, going through what they’d brought back and starting to figure how much you could get for it.

For a while, he entertained that conversation, though with as short of responses as possible.  Not even a ‘yes’ or a ‘no’, just hums and grunts that got the point across.  You could tell he was thinking, but you could also tell he didn’t want to be— that he’d rather forget about all that.  For once, he was struggling to do that.

It scared you to imagine doing something he so obviously didn’t want you to do, but you knew you couldn’t ignore it forever.  “What made her so upset?” you asked softly, finally.

He paused for so long that you thought he was just ignoring your question, but he did eventually say something.  “She told me something I wasn’t ready to hear,” he answered, “and… and I guess I said the wrong thing.”

“What did you say?”

“Actually, I didn’t say anything,” he admitted with a thin laugh.  “But, I said nothing in the wrong way.”

"... Do you think she'll come back?" you pressed, and his sigh was answer enough.

You had to wonder if he'd make you a real partner in all this now.  Probably not, right?  He thought so little of you before, that wouldn't change just because Tess was out.

“I’m sorry,” you decided.

“It’s not your fault,” he promised.  “It was me.”

You didn’t press on that, already thankful and pleasantly surprised by how much he’d shared.  He stood up a moment later, leaving the table and moving to the kitchenette so he could make some coffee; oddly, that comforted you.  Like things were going to go forward now, like life could be normal again and he would still drink his coffee.

For a while, it was quiet— just how you liked it, and how you figured he liked it, too.  He was humming a song at one point but you didn’t think he realized he was doing it.

It was so quiet, in fact, that when you went to lay on the sofa later, you ended up accidentally dozing off.  You couldn’t say how long you were asleep— you were pretty underslept, but it didn’t feel like more than an hour— just that you were awoken to the sound of movement in the kitchen area.

Sitting up, you tilted your head when you saw Joel had begun packing up the contraband haul— well, half of it.  “What are you—?” you began to ask, but then you saw the time, and you remembered; but he answered you anyways.

“Our buyer’s on his break now,” Joel announced as he stuffed a pack of bandages into his bag.  “I said I would meet him to show him what we got.”

“I can go with you!” you announced.  “You know, if Tess isn’t—”

“It’s fine,” he insisted, “I can do it myself.”

“Joel, please,” you pressed, “I promise I’ll do whatever you need me to, I just wanna help—”

“I need you to stay here,” he frowned.

Some things never change, huh?  “Why don’t you just let me go?  Let me help you?” you whimpered, lip shaking as you started to cry.  You hated yourself for it, but you knew you couldn’t stop it.

There was a pause before he responded.  “I don’t like the way he looks at you,” Joel explained, but you doubted that was the real reason he didn’t want you to come.  “It only takes one of us, you’re better off here.”

“Tess was gonna go!” you reminded him, getting more upset.  "I know I'm not…" you trailed off as you tried not to cry too much or too loudly.  "I can't do what she can— I'm not strong…"

He sighed as he knelt down in front of you, resting his hand on your knee.  You peeked out from behind your fingers, but looked down again.

"I'm not— I'm not smart, either," you whimpered.  "I don't know anything, about before, about now—"

"That's not true," he mumbled, but you weren't finished yet.

"Nobody knows why you even keep me around, I sure don't," you shrugged, dropping your hands defeatedly, hot tears running faster down your face and dripping onto your pants; his hand reached up and wiped your cheeks with a gentleness you never knew he had.  “M’not… I’m not tough, like you guys…”

"You know what you are, little girl?" he replied quietly.  "You're good.  You're sweet.  Me an' Tess, we need someone like you to keep us from bein' sad old assholes all the time…"

He sighed, and you thought was done talking, until he spoke again, softer.

"I need someone like you."

Your heart swelled, and light filled your chest, until you had just enough confidence to finally blurt out what you'd been holding in for months: "Joel, you should know that I always—"

"Shh," he soothed, nodding.  "I know."

Your face got hot instantly again, and your heart sank.  "I think everybody knows," you mumbled awkwardly, giving him a half-smile through the drying tears.  "But I thought— it's just that you never—"

“I couldn’t,” he insisted.  “You understand that?  I couldn’t, not with you—”

“Why not?” you snapped.  “Why can’t you?”

“If you don’t know why, you’re more hopeless than I thought,” he frowned.

“I know— I know I’m… a lot younger than you…” you mumbled, almost not wanting to say it in case he actually hadn’t noticed that.  “I know you think I’m not very mature and stuff… but that shouldn’t matter when you really love someone—”

“Woah, hey,” he coughed, “love?  Sweetheart, you’ve got a crush—”

“No!  Don’t tell me how I feel,” you snapped, surprising both of you with your sudden ability to stand up to him.  “You can tell me what to do but not what to feel.”

“Okay,” he softened up, “fine.  That’s fair.  But it’ll pass—”

"I've never loved anybody before," you whimpered, "and I'm never gonna love anybody like I love you.  I know that!  I know you think I'm just a stupid kid who doesn't understand love, but I know that I really love you!  Okay?  So just… just stop talking!  Doesn’t need to take this long for you to reject me, geez…”

There was a pregnant pause, you were too caught up in your own frustration to really notice it: the way he looked to the side, chewing on the inside of his cheek for a moment.  You weren’t expecting him to say anything after that, so it nearly startled you when he spoke.  “It was last night, after you left,” he explained.  “I— I thought about telling you to come back, figured you’d be safer on the couch than walking back across the city at that time…”

Wrapping your arms around your chest, you smiled a little imagining that, but you knew you couldn’t have taken him up on that offer: it would’ve killed you, trying to sleep on that sofa while Joel and Tess shared the bed.

“She told me not to,” Joel continued.  “That’s… that’s how it started, I guess…”

“That girl’s so obsessed with you,” Tess laughed lightly, toying with Joel’s lapel.  “It’s cute, really.  I mean, it’s sad— but it’s cute.”

“Hm,” Joel said first, not really listening— it took him a second to properly react.  “Why is it sad?” he asked when her words processed completely.

“‘Cause she thinks she might actually have a chance,” Tess explained.

That was it, what he did wrong; he sees it now, in retrospect, but at the time he figured saying nothing was his safest bet.  Apparently, he didn’t have to say anything.

“Shit,” Tess said suddenly, moving instantly from shock to anger.  “Are you fucking serious?”

“What?” Joel spat.

“You know fucking what,” she returned sharply.  “That look— you looked away.”

“Okay?  So?” Joel tried to defend himself, but he knew that she knew now— believe it or not, he really wasn’t much of a liar.  Especially with her.

“She’s a goddamn fetus, Joel,” Tess reminded him.  “She hasn’t seen a hundredth of the shit we’ve seen, she hasn’t lost anyone—”

“Lost her parents,” Joel corrected.

“Well, we all lose our parents,” Tess rolled her eyes, “that’s part of life.”

Not the way she lost them, Joel wanted to add, but he was going back to his original plan of saying nothing.

“She’s not like us,” Tess insisted.

“Maybe that’s a good thing,” Joel decided.

That was the point of no return; because Tess had never thought of you as competition, she barely even thought of you at all, but if innocence was something he wanted… then the competition was already over before it even started.  The silence was heavy, more sad than angry, and Joel knew he really fucked up because he’d never really seen Tess speechless before.  Is it bad that he didn’t regret it, though?  Maybe he could’ve handled things better, but telling her the truth couldn’t be wrong.  It’s not like he’d been hiding it, really— he never even acknowledged it himself, not often.

“I can’t believe you,” she shook her head, and shame twisted in his gut.  “Part of me always— not always, I guess, but part of me wondered.  Sometimes the way you looked at her…”

As she trailed off, Joel looked down, too afraid for her to look in his eyes now.

“You’d do anything to keep her safe,” she said instead of finishing that last thought.  “I told myself you didn’t look at me like that because you knew I could protect myself.”

“I do,” he promised.

“So what do you want?” she asked point-blank.  “Something you can protect, or something you don’t have to?”

“And what did you say?” you asked hurriedly.

“I told her what I wanted,” was all he replied, and your heart skipped.  “And that’s… that’s why she left.”

Joel nodded slightly, looking away.  But you reached out and touched his face, turning it back towards you.  Impulsively, you leaned forward and kissed him; it took all the courage you had, and a hand on his shoulder for balance, but you felt him kiss you back after a moment.  It was gentle, for how sudden it was, and you sighed as his hand moved higher up your leg.  

You were still crying, because of course you were, but he didn’t mind as much as you’d worried: he only wiped your tears away, holding onto your face, standing up and pulling you with him.

“I love you,” you whispered as he embraced you, wanting to say it a thousand times now that it wasn’t the worst-kept secret in Boston.  “I love you, Joel—”

“I know,” he promised, whispering back into the kiss which got deeper with each passing moment.  “I know, darlin’.”

That was enough for you— that was plenty: the way he kissed you, and held you, calling you darlin’ in that rough-yet-gentle voice… you were weak already, melting into his touch, ready to give him anything.

In fact, he had to put a hand on your shoulder and gently push you away to get you to calm down, and your face heated up as you realized how eager you’d been.  “Don’t need to get so worked up, m’gonna take care of you now, okay?”

“You always take care of me,” you noticed.

“A different way,” he explained.

Just the way those brown eyes darkened, just the way he said that made your thighs clench against each other.  “Y-you’ll miss the meeting with the buyer,” you realized.

“Fuck,” Joel grumbled, and you smiled a bit.  “Waited this long and now I’ve gotta fuckin’ leave you again.”

Your hand rested on his chest, the soft flannel of his shirt transmitting some of the warmth of his body, and you looked up with him with wide, wet eyes.

“I know you hate waitin’ here, but… I always liked it,” he admitted, his voice softer yet deeper.  “I always liked knowing you were here, waiting for me…”

Your heart swelled.  “Y-yeah— I didn’t mind waiting for you so much,” you admitted in return, “just didn’t want you to think that’s all I was good for.”

He kissed your temple, making your chest flood with warmth.  “I know,” he promised.  “You’ll be here when I get back, won’tcha?  Can’t disappear on me now.”

“I won’t, I’ll be here,” you assured, turning your face to peck his cheek in return.  It seemed to surprise him, like he hadn’t had tenderness of that sort in a long time.

~

Funny how you’d waited for him all night before, but that half hour felt longer than all of them combined.  You were quite sure you knew what he meant before— about how he would take care of you in a different way— and it put you on edge all afternoon.

You couldn’t stop thinking about the way he’d kissed you, about his hands pulling you closer.  Or his eyes: if he’d ever looked at you like that before, you hadn’t noticed (which was probably what he intended).  

For how much time you spent wondering what you would do, what you would say, when he returned, you ended up not doing much of either: he was on you the moment he stepped in the door, though that was sort of what you’d been betting on when you decided to strip down to just your underwear and wait for him like that.  Not that you minded the idea of him, you know, tearing your clothes off like one of those romance novels— you just didn’t like the idea of having to wait any longer than you already had and this shirt had way too many buttons.

He did take a moment to stare you down when he came back, to appreciate your nakedness, and despite imagining showing yourself to him many times before, you felt a little self-conscious with his eyes just piercing through you like that: you didn’t cover yourself, ignoring a slight instinct to do so, but you did wrap your arms over your stomach and cross your legs as you sat on his bed.

Waiting for him to say something— or, possibly, waiting for yourself to find some courage to speak— you were a little taken aback when he grabbed you and kissed you.  And you realized, as his lips moved with yours even harder, deeper, needier than before, that there was nothing else to say.

He climbed on top of you on that bed, laid you down on it gently, as his weight pressed you down into the mattress.  You could've sworn you heard him growl when he rocked his hips against yours, a firm bulge in his jeans pressing right up to where heat had gathered between your legs.

Fingers weaving in his hair, you hummed as you did all you could to keep him close, as if he might just disappear if you didn’t hold him near to you.  But he didn’t seem like much of a flight risk, considering his tight grip on you— so tight it could leave marks, which you hoped it would.  You needed more than just memories of this.

“Tell me this is what you want,” he demanded, his voice breathless yet somehow not weak at all.  “Need to know you want this.”

“Fuck, Joel, f’course,” you promised— wasn’t it obvious?  It probably was.  But you could understand if he was still fighting back some guilt; you just wanted to do everything you could to help him forget about that.  “So bad,” you continued, “for so long…”

“Since I saved you?” he assumed, his teeth grazing your lip like a threat to bite down harder— a threat that made you throb from the inside out.

“Before,” you admitted, smiling sheepishly.  

“Didn’t even know me before,” he noticed, raising an eyebrow.

“Saw you around sometimes—” god, am I blushing as hard as it feels like I am? — “thought maybe you could… you know…”

Protect me.  Hold me.  Take care of me.  And fuck me like the world is ending even though it already did.

He smirked at you proudly, leaning in to kiss your neck this time, following some invisible trail that made you even more sensitive to the touch of his lips; after he kissed right under your ear, he whispered to you.

“Then just go ahead and take what you want, darlin’.”

After a shiver ran over you, so strong you thought it might never end, your hands shot down between you so you could get to work on his belt and fly; you felt his smile against your skin, then his teeth a moment later, as his hand rubbed the curve of your waist gently.

Both of you gasped when your fingers wrapped gently around his cock, for different reasons.  The skin was so smooth, it was hard to believe something this soft and silky was part of Joel— and it was hot, or maybe your fingers were just cold, but you hoped that didn't bother him.

He was already starting to move his hips just a bit, rocking into your touch, and you hummed when he suddenly grabbed your hand to force it to press firmer against himself.  "You thought about touchin' me like this before?" he asked in a voice that was breathy and low— you loved hearing the pleasure in his voice.

"Y-yeah," you admitted shyly; when he let your hand go, your touch wandered, your hands sliding up under the bottom of his shirt so you could feel the skin there— the firm muscle, the thin scars, the graying hairs that formed a trail down his stomach…

Grabbing your wrists, he pinned them down above your head, and you let out a joyful whine.  "Keep those there," he ordered, and you nodded as you watched him intently.

His hands traced down your body, making shivers run all over your skin; how could a man with so much strength touch you so delicately?

He purred as his fingers ran down to your panties, toying with the edge of the fabric before carefully pulling them down your legs.  You tried not to wiggle too much, but your hips were desperate for some friction, for some attention from him— they didn't have to wait long, though.  He groaned at the sight as he parted your legs, grabbing himself to rub his fat head through your folds.  "Fuck," he mumbled, your channel clenching on nothing as you saw how far apart his tip forced your swollen lips, "so wet for me already, bet I'll slide right in…"

Your back arched with a moan just imagining that, and he pushed your stomach down flat with his free hand so you wouldn't angle too far away from him, laying his body atop yours.  Though you tried to stay still, you couldn’t stop shaking as he lined himself up; it felt surreal, it felt hyperreal— his skin against yours was unlike anything you could’ve imagined.

You’d sort of wondered if he’d say something before he put it in, maybe a quick you ready? or even here it comes which would’ve been stupid but an appreciated warning nonetheless.  Instead, he just looked at your face carefully, and pushed inside.  It was sudden, sharp; your whole body tensed up and you sucked in a breath before biting your lip.

He only made it halfway in, struggling against how tight you were.  You were doing everything you could not to give away your pain, but he must've seen it in your expression.

"What's wrong?" he asked in a hoarse whisper.  "I'm hurting you…"

"No— Joel, please don't stop—"

You wrapped your legs around his hips to try to keep him inside, but he pulled out most of the way and looked down— and you winced when he saw the blood.  "Baby, you… are you— is this your—?  Fuck, why didn't you say something?"

"You wouldn't have done it with me if you knew it was my first time," you explained with a whimper.

"No, baby— I just would've taken my time with you, s'all," he sighed, "would've helped you— sweetie, it didn't need to hurt like that…"

Clutching tighter at his shirt, you pulled him down into a needy kiss. "Hurt me more, Joel," you pleaded into it with a breathy whisper, "do whatever you want to me.  I'm yours— that's all I want, just to be yours."

He kissed you back, slow but passionate; but, much to your dismay, he pulled out and sat up.

"No, Joel, I'm sorry," you whined, "I'm sorry— I didn't mean to lie, I'm so sorry, I promise I can be good!  M'gonna be really good for you!"

But he just shook his head, and you bit your quivering lip as tears ran down your temples.  He smiled, just a little.  "Such a crybaby," he scolded you softly.  "What am I gonna do with you, little girl?  You can't even keep yourself together."

He leaned down again, but he slid his knees down on the bed so he could position his face between your legs.  He kissed your inner thigh first, and you jumped because it tickled.

Then he held your hips, running his thumbs over your skin soothingly, and you tried not to squirm too much as he looked up at you with those dark eyes— much darker than before.  “You want me to taste you?” he asked, like it was your idea or something.

“Uh, yeah,” you mumbled sheepishly, and he actually laughed for a moment.  

“Yeah?” he repeated.  “Could you be a little more specific?”

Oh— he wants me to beg.  “Um— please?  Taste me, Joel…”

He smiled, but not like a haha funny smile or an oh that’s nice smile— a really dirty kind of smile, even though his teeth were actually in better condition than most out here.  “Okay, baby,” he agreed.

He was subtle about it at first, just giving gentle kisses all around; you felt… exposed, even more than you had with his face between your legs before.

“Is that alright?” he asked, his voice rougher than the last time you heard it.

“Y-yeah,” you choked, clearing your throat.  “Don’t… don’t stop, please…”

When he got back to it, he was much more aggressive— long, slow licks between your lips, sloppy kisses with his eyes shut tight; and you whined as you held on tighter to the sheets.  You didn’t realize how hard you were shaking until his grip on your thighs was bruisingly tight.  And as he held you down, he just dug in deeper: every time you thought he’d stop escalating the intensity of it all, he just did it more— he just did everything more— until you couldn’t control your moans and gasps anymore.

His tongue was the fucking devil; he slid it inside you and your eyes rolled back.  He sucked greedily on your clit until your hips bucked uncontrollably, moaning against your skin just enough that you could hear it over your own shameless cries.

"Joel, fuck, how are you—?  Oh god—"

"Mm?" he encouraged you to finish your thought without breaking away from you.

"How does that feel so good?" you sobbed.  "Oh my god— please don't stop, never stop, oh fuck!"

All he was doing was flicking his tongue over your bud, such a small interaction with a tiny little organ, and your whole body was shaking.  Reaching down and grabbing his hair, you didn't mean to tug on it so hard but you also didn't expect him to moan deeply when you did.  

His mouth moved a little higher, focusing on the bud you were sure had never been this swollen or this sensitive.  Doing so freed your opening, and one of his thick fingers prodded at it.  "Please," you panted, wanting any part of him to be inside you again.

He pushed it in, the roughness of his skin creating the perfect friction on your delicate walls.  You were waiting to feel his knuckle against you, but instead he only put it in maybe halfway, not very far at all.  It didn’t make much sense to you, until he started to rub one place just inside and a gasp instantly inflated your chest.

“Oh—” you choked, and he was licking harder on your clit at the same time that he added a second finger; you’d never felt anything like it before.  “Joel!” you squealed, hating how girlish it sounded but helpless to the control he had over your body with just two fingers and his tongue.

His rhythm wasn’t all that fast but it was relentless, the exact tempo you needed for that pleasure to build and build, toes curling and vision getting all spotty— you tried to look down at him sometimes, but your head wanted so badly to tilt back and let everything go black.

“I— oh, fuck— I’m gonna— fuck, Joel!” you sobbed, grabbing on tighter to his hair; you took one glimpse at it, and when you saw the scattered silver hairs peeking out from between your fingers, it just made you even more overwhelmed.

He hummed and looked up at you, encouraging you— his fingers pumped faster and faster suddenly, and when it hit, you felt like your whole body was going numb.  It started where he was touching you, but then a moment later it was in your head, then it was just running all over and you were too weak to do anything but give into it.

Suddenly it became too much, and the hand that had been holding him down by his hair was suddenly pushing him away; you blinked away the spots in your vision to catch a glimpse of him with that beard soaked in you, but his fingers hadn’t stopped yet.  “Oh… ohhh my god…” you whined, breathing harder than you could ever remember breathing before, your head getting all dizzy and cloudy as he smirked up at you and continued fucking you with his hand.

Your hole was pulsing, flexing over and over, waves of slick leaking out until you could feel the puddle spreading under you.  Your cheeks burned with humiliation, even though he kept praising you as his fingers milked everything from your swollen spot.  "Good girl, good girl," he said over and over, "fuck, good job, soak the sheets, baby— soak my fingers, keep going…"

"Joel," you sobbed, desperate for some relief from the overwhelming sensation.  He didn't really stop, just slowed down a lot, but he kept twisting his fingers and rubbing that one place until your quivering body collapsed completely onto his mattress.  And then he went on for just a little bit longer after that.

Then he stopped.  When you thought you might fucking pass out.

He climbed up your body and brought his two soaked fingers to your slack lips.  

"You want a taste, too, baby?" he purred.

You dutifully opened your mouth and did your best to clean his fingers off, sucking and licking as he hummed a bit; his eyes got a little darker as he felt your tongue run all over his rough fingers.

"What do you think?" he prompted when he pulled his fingers away, and you swallowed as you made a little face.

"I dunno if I like it," you admitted nervously.  "Kinda sour."

"Really?  I think your pussy's fuckin' delicious."

Your face flushed, but you didn't say anything else because he was reaching down to hold his cock again— and your heart started racing.

"Ready to do this the right way?" he prompted, and you nodded eagerly.  "S'gonna feel so much better, now you're all ready for me.  Ready for something this big inside ya— but it might still sting at first, okay?  Just hold onto me tight."

That you did, tighter than you thought you could— apparently you were stronger than you realized, especially considering that orgasm nearly took you out a minute ago.  But you had to hold on that tight as he began to push that fat head inside you, stretching you so wide before he'd even gotten the ridge of it past your opening.  It didn't sting like before, or at least not as much, but it was still completely overwhelming.  You forgot to breathe until he was halfway in: you gasped out his name, reminding yourself he was inside you and above you and everywhere, everything.

"See how much— fuck— how much easier it is now?" he grunted, sliding into you slowly until his hips met yours.  "See how you're takin' all'a me?  God damn, still tight as hell, though."

You were delirious already, he hadn't even moved yet.  You didn't think it could get much better than his mouth on you, than coming because of him, but this?  This perfect stretch, this addictive friction, knowing he was completely inside you and that he liked how you felt?  This was ecstasy, bliss.  And he hadn't even fucking moved yet.

"Gonna have a hard time being gentle with you now," he admitted with a growl beside your ear.  "You've got one of those perfect little pussies that just needs to be fucked hard— suckin' me in, just beggin' for it rough and fast."

"Joel," you whined, "fuck me however you want, please… I can take it, I swear, I want you so bad…"

Still, when he moved, it was slow and patient.  Too goddamn slow.

"Fuck," you sobbed, back arching up off the bed as he carefully savored every detail of you.  "Fuck, Joel, I can't— I can't believe you're— I can't believe it's you.  I wanted you so much I couldn't fucking breathe."

He smiled at you, and leaned in to kiss your neck; you let out what could only be described as a joyful whimper.  “Wanted you too,” he finally admitted.  “Tried not to, you’re so young… jus’ couldn’t help it after a while.”

"Faster," you whined, "please, fuck, please please—"

"You are so goddamn spoiled, you know that?" Joel grunted— but then he did it, he fucked you even faster than you'd imagined.  His thrusts were still deep and long, but they came at you quicker than you could process and you nearly screamed.  

You were even more sensitive after he’d made you come the first time; it was just overwhelming, the feeling of him, and you felt like your mind had left your body— like your mind had left you entirely.

“Y’feel fuckin’ perfect, darlin’,” he praised lowly, kissing your neck with all the gentleness and patience his thrusts lacked.  “So good for me.”

Maybe it was pathetic, but being good for him felt fucking amazing— not just physically, obviously.  It felt like having a purpose; you’d never really felt that before.

You lost track of time; honestly, you lost track of everything.  Everything that wasn’t this had fallen away, and it was just you holding on for dear life as Joel wrecked you all over again with every motion.  "Hear that?  How wet you are for me?" he groaned, and yes, there was a squishy-wet sound that filled the room with each thrust.  You tried to answer him, say something witty about how he made you that wet so many times, but only moans came when you opened your mouth.  "I asked you a question," he reminded you.  "Can you fuckin' hear it?"

Whimpering, you could only bite your lip and nod.

"Oh," he smiled, "I see— you get stupid with cock in you, huh?  Get fucked right and that silly brain just turns off?"

You nodded again— wasn’t much else for you to do.

"Just gonna be a dumb whore for me now?" he asked.  "Just kidding, I know you already were."

“Fuck— Joel—” you choked.

"No no, it's okay— it's good,” he soothed you, kissing a tear from your temple that you hadn’t even realized was there.  “You don't need to think.  I don't need you to think.  You can just be my fucktoy, okay?  You can just be my slut.  Say it."

"I-I'm your slut, Joel…"

He hummed appreciatively; your moan caught in your throat, and you tried to hide your face in his shoulder— you couldn’t believe he was still dressed, for all you knew he still had his boots on, and meanwhile you were stripped of everything.  Not just your clothes: you were stripped of all pretense (didn’t need it) and dignity (didn’t want it).  You’d thought of yourself as his for quite some time now, but now that he’d really made you his, it was more than you could’ve imagined.

When you came with him inside you, it wasn’t like how it was before— definitely similar, obviously the same thing at the core of it, but very different.  Before it was so… sudden, like a firework going off and then glittering into darkness (at least, that was how you understood fireworks to be, you’d only ever had them explained to you).  This was more like a deep pressure that just built and built and built, and then at some point you’d crossed that threshold and you were there but it didn’t go away, it just stayed at the peak while he kept moving inside you.

He grunted as your walls beared down on him, watching the tears of ecstasy stream down your face.  “Tryin’ to milk my cock, huh?” he accused with a snarl to his tone.  “S’that what you want?”

You weren’t really paying attention, you couldn’t while he was fucking you like that.  Digging your fingers into his shoulders through the flannel shirt, you just whimpered and nodded.

“S’workin’, baby,” he smiled, “little pussy’s got me so tight— is it a little too much, honey?  You’re cryin’...”

“I— I always cry,” you sniffled.

“M’not gonna make you take too much more,” he promised, “doin’ so good honey— gonna let you rest soon—”

“No, d-don’t stop,” you begged, and he laughed a little.

“I’m close,” he explained, and even though that should’ve been obvious, it made you feel better.  “Normally takes me a little longer, but… never had a pussy like this.”

That was probably just flattery, but you were happy to believe it.  Happy enough to just lay back and let that pleasure wash over you, but of course, he expected more of you than that.

"Tell me where I can come," he ordered.  

"Fuck, Joel— anywhere you want, anywhere," you pleaded, struggling to keep your train of thought but desperate to appease him as best you could.

"Inside you?" he pressed.

"Yeah, fuck, anywhere," you insisted.

"I bet that's what you want— you want it inside.  You want this cunt full and dripping."

“Fuck— yeah,” you agreed, “s’what I want— please, please—”

“Shh, don’t need to beg,” he assured sweetly, kissing your neck again— burying his face in the crook of your shoulder, until his panting breaths echoed on your skin.  “Don’t need to beg, darlin’, gonna fill you nice and deep—”

“Please,” you said again, ignoring his assurances.

“Just like you need it—”

“Please, Joel— love you so much,” you sobbed, your thighs starting to go a little numb where his jeans were rubbing against them and your clit getting sore from the way he stayed deep inside and grinded himself against you.

“I know,” he promised again, “jus’ say it one more time.”

“I love you, Joel,” you cried, and it was over somewhat suddenly: he stayed still, and you could feel his grip on you tighten, and you heard that sound that was like a groan and a sigh at the same time.  You’d hoped you’d be able to really feel it inside you, the warmth of his come, but everything was so hot that it was all the same— what you did feel was full, even more than you had just from his cock in you, and it was enough to make you clutch at his shoulders again despite having almost no energy left in you.

Though he stayed inside for a little while after, he did eventually have to pull out; you were too exhausted to even think about trying to close your legs when he stared down at you— at his come leaking slowly from your hole.

You knew there would need to be a conversation soon about what this all meant— what should happen now with the business, with your relationship, even just what should happen tomorrow morning since you’d both given in to instinct rather than take the safer route and have Joel pull out…

But that would have to wait; you still couldn’t think straight, you couldn’t think about anything but him in fact.

Thankfully, Joel was just fine with the silence.  He just held you, let you wander between sleep and wakefulness, and wiped that last stray tear away from your face.

“I’m sorry I keep crying,” you offered quietly, breaking a long silence.

“I don’t mind,” he promised.

zhong chenle x fem!reader (idol AU)

IMAGINE: you get to do a volleyball date after many many basketball dates

• "you're really bad at volley, honey" "it's my first time, of course i'm bad!"

• he loves to lend you his basketball clothes.

• you're better at sports than him but he would never admit that and you have no problem in feeding his delusions.

• even if he's not giving you attentions, his hand always searches for yours out of habit.

• he loves your mind: not many people manage to impress him but you do it every day.

• "how can you be so smart but so short?"

• you would try to get on him after every private basketball session, in the deserted locker rooms, but he refuses.

• he eventually gave in when you started to 'innocently' undress completely in front of him, still sweaty.

• "you know i don't like shower sex" "cool. i'll do it alone then" "bullshit"

• he hates the concept of you touching yourself, so when he's on tour he pretends to video-call or at least that you record yourself.

• but now everytime he receives a notification from you while he's at work he can't focus until he's alone and allowed to open whatever you sent him.

• "ffs (y/n), not now"

happy 30th birthday lewis james pullman !!

Ona | Bojan Cvjetićanin

Pairing: Bojan Cvjetićanin x reader

Summary: Bojan wrote this song about you and preformed it at one of the bands concerts for the first time. Through the song he started to spill his feelings for you for the first time after your breakup and you have a few thoughts.

Warning/s: possible grammar and spelling mistakes, mention of mental breakdown, maybe one curse word, bad breakup.

Author's note: Here is one for out golden retriever beautiful boy. I hope that you enjoy this one! Feel free to send in requests if you want me to make something specific with him. Oh and, btw, here is the translation for this amazing song. Your welcome. 😉

It was so bright out there, it started to hurt your eyes a little bit. You were standing somewhere in the middle of the crowd watching the love of your love. The love of your life... that you decided to let go because you felt like you weren't good enough.

You were attending yet another Joker Out's concert, but it felt different this time. Maybe because Bojan and you weren't together anymore.

Joker Out was here, in Croatia's capital city of Zagreb. This was the next stop for their concert. This is where the two of you met. Right here in Zagreb on a hot, sunny day in a crowded city. In your hometown. In the breathing country where you were born and raised in.

So here you were. In your hometown where Joker Out was performing. The first time that you heard that they will be performing in Zagreb, it felt like someone punched you in the stomach. But then you felt something different, you felt the need to see him again. Even if he doesn't take a notice in you as you stood in the middle of the crowd that was dancing and singing along. So you decided to go.

The moment that they stepped onto the stage you felt like you would cry. You missed them all so much. You somehow found the strength deep in your soul to look at Bojan. And so you did. He was just so gorgeous. He looked even better then when he did on the day that you left him (Lana Del Rey anyone? No? Okay...). He still had long hair, he was tall and just oh, so handsome. You noticed one thing however, his playful and mesmerizing, so radiant, smile or his playful smirk wasn't pressed onto his face like it always was. It worried you, truly. You watched as they got in their possession and as Bojan took the microphone.

"So... for the first song I will be singing something that hasn't been released just yet." He spoke in Serbian (it's actually very similar to Croatian, you know?) as he watched the crowd go wild with excitement as they claped and shouted and screamed with pure joy, with pure excitement.

"This song is also very special to me." He said, his voice was deep as he looked down in what seems to be sadness.

"It's about a very special person about who, I hate to admit it, I didn't get over and I don't think that I ever will." He paused for a moment so he could take a deep breath so he could continue to speak. "I met her right here, actually. In the beautiful Zagreb a year ago and I can honestly say that I fell for her harder then I ever did for anyone." The crowd was cheering, screaming, in excitement as Bojan introduced Joker Out's unrelated song.

"This one is for her." He said as the rest of the bend slowly started to play the chords. You felt your last bit of your breath leave your lungs as you felt tears pricking in your eyes, your vision getting blurry. You couldn't move. You couldn't breathe. You couldn't think.

But once he met your eyes deep in the crowd, where you stood, just as he started to sing, you felt like you were going to collapse.

Hodam opet njenom ulicom

Brutalno se vuče otkad nisam više s njom

Stanem ispod njenog prozora

Jedna njena senka da me spasi očaja

Bojan was walking around the dark cornered alley in the middle of the night. It must have been midnight by now. As he walked, he could see his breath in the cold of the Zagreb's winter, cold night. As he watched his breath become visible in the cold, dark night, he found himself pulling his dark coat closer to himself. It was truly a good attempt to keep himself from freezing.

Before he knew it, he found himself walking along the familiar road. The road that he walked along too many times to count, but right now, he was all alone. He looked up so he could be met face to face with the moon. It was shining so brightly in the middle of the dark night's sky. It was staring right at him, it seemed like it was mocking him. It was mocking his heartbreak and his loneliness. It was mocking him.

Suddenly, as Bojan looked down, he felt like the last breath was knocked out of his lungs. You were skipping along the frozen road, your steps quickly increasing as you went towards your apartment.

He felt like a staker, even though he wasn't one. He slowely started to go after you, something was pulling him towards you. That invisible pull was there again, just like it first appeared when he saw you for the first time.

After a while, you finally came into your apartment. You leaned against the window with a heavy sigh. Bojan could see you from the street and as he watched you he felt like he was suffocating.

Bojan loved you. You know what? Scratch that. He loves you. He longs for you. He wants you to be safe and as he watched you quitly from down below, he once again exposed his pain for the Croatian girl to the moon. To the moon, to the darkes and the cold winter in the middle of the street.

Nisam ni zaslužio da završimo uživo

Jedna poruka i via more

Snegovi u avgustu sad po meni padaju

Dok tebe sunce greje, mi amore

It felt like it was a good day. Truly. Bojan and you went out to get lunch and to explore the city. You were just hanging out together and it felt so good to do it. However, all good things have to come to an end.

Bojan didn't expect it at all. It struck him like a bolt of lightning. Out of nowhere, just when you think the day is going to be beautiful, and it hit hard. Really hard. In fact, it hit so hard it hurt.

"I'm sorry, Bojan. I really don't want to do this, but I think it's for the best if we break up."

That was it. Bojan could still remember those words echoing in his mind even though you never said them out loud. You told him this through text messages and maybe that's why it hurts even more than it would if you told him that to his face.

You loved him so much. You still love him so much that it hurts. Joker Out was starting to be a big band that has so much potential, and with that came so much more fame. You just didn't want to be in the way. You felt like you weren't good enough for him. You felt like he could do, and deserves, so much better than you. You were so happy with him, in fact, you were happier than you have ever been. But you didn't want to be in the way. So you made a hard choice.

Nobody could ever know, nobody could ever describe the pain, suffering and all that misery that you felt that day. That miserable feeling you felt when you pressed that little "send" button on your phone. As you watched the message being sent, you cried so much that it felt like you were going to collapse. After that you cut all of the contacts with him.

It was for his own good, that's what you told yourself. It's what you always told yourself as you broke down in the middle of your bedroom floor.

Znaj, bebo, znaj

Celu noć sam plakao zbog tebe

Taj osećaj

Da za mene živo ti se jebe

Ubija me

Bojan felt like a part of his soul was ripped away from his body as he read that message over and over again. He cried so much it started to hurt. He has never felt this way before. He hated to admit it, but he has never loved anyone as much as he loves you. It was intoxicating, but most of all it was painful and infuriating.

It lasted too long. Jan didn't know what to do anymore. Bojan just kept on crying, he was crying for so long, in fact, it was already dark outside. Jan was afraid that something was going to happen to him if he doesn't do something. And quick. It looked like Bojan wasn't breathing anymore. His broken soul didn't allow him to take a break, even just so he could breathe.

So Jan panicked and before he knew it, he was calling you up. He watched Bojan from the other room as the grip on his phone tightened. He found himself silently begging you to pick up your damn phone and answer him.

And so you did. After the millionth ring and after about two hundred messages later. You picked up the phone.

Jan told you everything. You were crying before he called you and it took everything in your power to not break down while being on the phone call with Bojan's band mate and your friend. You were practically kicking yourself for your decision, but there wasn't much that you could do.

From that day on, Jan tried everything in his power to get you two to at least meet. And for the first time, in a very long time, he succeeded. He managed to convince you to come to their concert.

In the city where you met.

Znaj, bebo, znaj

Celu noć sam plakao zbog tebe

Taj osećaj

Da za mene živo ti se jebe

Ubija me

Ubija me

As Bojan sang the last few chords of the song, he never broke the eye contact. You felt a few tears betraying you as they ran down your cheeks. Before you knew it, you found yourself whispering the words for which you barely found the strength to say.

"Celu noć si plakao zbog mene." You said, practically out of breath. It felt like you were kicked in your stomach as he continued to hold your gaze. You felt more tears as you found yourself repeating the words you just said.

"Celu noć si plakao zbog mene..." You couldn't do this to yourself anymore. You couldn't do this to him anymore. It was too much. The pain and suffering was getting out of hand.

You had to fix this.

A FRESH START [22]

Din Djarin x F!Reader

Warnings: panic attack, trauma reaction, mentions of injuries, nonsexual nudity

Word Count: 5,935

Updates every Thursday

Summary: When you made plans for your future they never involved being hired by a Mandalorian to baby-sit his adorable, green gremlin of a child. However, after your life fell apart in the span of one disastrous night, you found it to be the only feasible option you had left. Nevarro was a far cry from Coruscant, but the thriving community turned out to be exactly what you needed. Every day you spend in Nevarro you fall more and more in love with your new life, but when your past rears its ugly head you find that perhaps peace wasn’t meant for everyone.

[a/n: i was forced to shorten the taglist for the sake of my sanity. tumblr won't let me post with more than certain number. I think that's why I've had the hardest time with this shit. I made it a first come, first served so if your username got dropped I am so so so sorry but that's why.]

#22: LIKE FATHER, LIKE SON

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"i find my place in between your arms, in between your tender kisses and soft whispers of 'it will be alright', in between the warmth of your embrace, and the scent of your neck, and the fierceness of your touch, i find my place lost inside your soul." -Hearts and Empires

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Din was immensely proud of your skills as a physician. However, if you didn’t get your ass out of the damn medic tent he was going to throw you over his shoulder and carry you home forcibly. More than anything, you needed rest. He wasn’t able to convince you to stop working and because the medical aid had yet to arrive no one else sided with him on these matters. Karga had the nerve to tell him to calm down. Din had nearly wrung the High Magistrate’s neck. 

He watched as you flittered around the medical tent aiding those who were injured alongside Aayla. Grogu had refused to leave your side, and that didn’t seem to bother you at all. Right now, as if you weren’t exhausted and barely standing, you had a sling wrapped around your chest which held Grogu against your back. Din could see the little boy resting his head against your back while rubbing your shoulder with his small hand. The sight warmed his heart and Din would be tempted to snap a picture to save if it weren’t for the state of your being. Your scrubs were still stained with blood and you had yet to clean your own wounds. It was stressing Din out to watch you working so hard when you were still in the state you were in.

While turning to see someone else, Din noticed you wavering on your feet. That was enough. He pushed forward and pressed through the injured crowd straight to you. “Hey.” You turned to meet his gaze. “It’s time to go home. You’re barely able to stand.”

“I can’t⏤”

“Ner kar’ta.” Din said firmly.

You sighed. “Alright. Fine.” Your shoulders sagged. “I guess I am a little tired.” Din shook his head, a quiet chuckle slipping from his lips. Your small smile turned sheepish and Din dreaded whatever it was you were going to say next. “I need to make sure Nima has cleared the tarmac though so the medical team can park.”

“What?”

“We need to get⏤”

Din reached his gloved hands out to cup your face. At the contact, the rest of your words fell away. He leaned forward and spoke firmly. “We’re going home. You need to rest. Somebody⏤ Anybody else can do the rest of the work here.” He let his thumb trace your cheekbone. Din wished he could feel your skin against his. “Have you managed all the emergency cases?”

“I mean, yeah, but⏤”

“Then it’s time to take care of yourself.” Din finished.

Your lips pressed together and gave him a small nod. Din let out a breath of relief. Without wasting another moment, Din slipped his hand into yours and began to drag you away before someone could distract you with a new job. Just having your hand in his was a comfort he couldn’t even begin to describe. During his travels, he imagined what his reunion with you would look like often. Never did he imagine karking pirates would be involved, but this feeling in his chest he had anticipated. He knew being back by your side would feel like coming home. In fact, he may have underestimated how strongly the reunion would make him feel⏤ which was quite the feat considering how badly he craved it.

Din stepped into the shared home and he couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief.

“Frog. Frog.” Grogu chirped. He turned in time to see you untangling the boy from the sling to set on the ground. Grogu bounded further into the room probably to look for his stuffed toy. 

Din focused back on you and his heart ached at the exhaustion painted on your face. Not wasting another moment, Din ripped off his gloves, tossing them aside, and reached out to cup your face. You let out a shuddering breath when his skin came in contact with his and Din felt that last tinge of stress leave his body. You were safe. It felt more real like this. 

“Are you still allowed to take this off to kiss me?” You asked. Din couldn’t tell if your quiet voice came from a meekness or just the weariness of your last 24 hours. 

“Yes.” Din chuckled. “We just need to be more careful.”

Technically speaking, it would be best if he didn’t take his helmet off anymore. Having you close your eyes was not the most ideal of plans. Accidents could happen, and more than anything it was just a loophole in his Creed. However, Din would give up vital organs before he gave up the gift and honor that was kissing you. 

You closed your eyes and Din lifted one of his hands so he could lightly trace your bruised and dirty features. He hummed, “You’re injured and tired. We should take care of that first.”

“Literally nothing is more important to me right now than this.” You replied.

Din hardly needed further convincing. Removing his hands from your face had been painful⏤ even knowing that it was only for a moment so he could take his helmet off. Without the barrier between you and him, your injuries looked worse. The dark coloring of the bruising and the red of the blood was so much more prominent. Din could see bags under your eyes he hadn’t noticed before. With a quiet sigh, Din cupped your face once more.

“Ni ceta.” Din mumbled soft apologies. He leaned in to press his lips first against your left eyelid then your right. He continued to pepper soft kisses across your cheek until they found your lips. Din would be a liar if he said he hadn’t spent every single night while gone imagining what your lips would feel like on his return. And, just as with the reunion, his mental image did not do the moment justice. Din had pictured passion and heat, a battle between one another to devour the other first, but this kiss was not that.

This kiss was soft, tender, and patient.

Three things that Din never got to call his own, living a life of battle in armor of Beskar.

Your lower lip was slotted between both of his and as he gave it a gentle tug you released a shaky sigh. The sound struck him like a hot iron and Din couldn’t help but breathe you in. He pulled you closer so your body was flush with his, let the tip of his tongue trace the shape of your lip, as he deepened the kiss. Din allowed desperation to seep into his very touch. It couldn’t be helped. Din was desperate. He was desperate to feel your very alive heartbeat under his touch. He was desperate for the warmth you exuded. He was desperate to show you how thankful he was for your safety. He was desperate for you to know how proud he was of you. He was desperate for you to know how sorry he was for not being here. 

Din was desperate, and it was all for you. 

“Ni ceta, ner kar’ta.” Din spoke directly against your lips. Nothing short of the Maker would tear him away from you. Your own hands lifted and when he felt your fingers rake against his scalp, tug on his hair, Din’s repeated apology fell out in a groan. Din dragged his lips along your jawline, taking the time to leave a kiss on every inch. Eventually, his lips found your neck and he left kisses over the darkened bruise there. “I’m so sorry.”

“Not your fault.” You replied in a hoarse whimper. 

Din disagreed entirely. He should’ve been here. He never should have left your side. You flinched when his lips touched a spot more tender than the rest. It was barely noticeable. In fact, he wouldn’t have realized you flinched at all if it wasn’t for your body being pressed so tightly to his. It was enough to remind him that you still needed care and rest. Din pressed one last kiss against your lips⏤ innocent and loving. When he pulled back you let out a whine of complaints. Din reached down to grasp his helmet and pulled it back on.

He leaned forward to rest the beskar against your forehead and at the touch your eyes opened once more. More than anything, Din wanted to see the color of your eyes unhindered by his visor. Even with the helmet on he found your eyes mesmerizing but the visor always muted colors. It seemed fitting if he thought about it. Even with the loophole of taking his helmet off, with your eyes closed a part of you stayed hidden to him. Just as he was hidden to you.

“Let me take a look at your wounds.”

“No.” You said and Din furrowed his brow. As if reading his displeasure at the response, you shook your head and clarified. “I meant, not now. I want to take a shower first. I need to.”

Din found it hard to argue against that. You wouldn’t be able to fully relax until the day was washed from your skin. He nodded and walked you further into the house. He kept one hand on your lower back, and Din loved that you kept pace with him. It wasn’t as if you didn’t know where the bathroom was, but the action made it feel like you were just as desperate as he was to stay in the other’s presence.

Grogu waddled out of the hall, dragging his stuffed frog behind him, just as the two of them reached the mouth of the hallway. He held his hands up, chirping out a request to be held, and Din knelt down to scoop the boy up before you could. Grogu blew a raspberry at him. “No buir. Need Ma.”

“I know, ad’ika.” Din replied. “But Ma has to take a shower.”

Grogu grumbled in protest, but when you reached out to lovingly pet the boy’s head Grogu was marginally appeased. As you drifted to the bathroom, Din gathered a fresh towel for you and he also grabbed one of his shirts for you to change into. A decision made solely to relieve the itch in his brain that needed to see you safe in his bed wearing his clothes, but you accepted both items with a tired smile. 

When the door shut and he heard the water kick on, Din blew out a breath of relief. He glanced down at Grogu who was still staring at the bathroom door. “It’s good to be home, isn’t it ad’ika?”

“Home with Ma.” Grogu nodded in agreement.

“Right.” Din chuckled. “We’re home with Ma.”

The hot water pelted your back and left your skin radiating heat. You had washed your hair, begun to wash your body, but midway through you dropped the bottle of soap. As you knelt down to pick it up, you suddenly had a flash of kneeling beside Wynn’s dead body. It sucked the air straight from your lungs and knocked you to your ass. Now you sat under the unrelenting stream of water with your legs curled up to your chest⏤ gasping in distress. Any air you did manage to fill your lungs with was uncomfortable and brought no relief. It felt like you were suffocating. 

A choked sob left your lips as you buried your face in your arms as they rested atop your knees. No matter how much you tried to turn your tired mind off, it continued to ruminate on the decisions you made. If you hadn’t forced Wynn to leave, would she still be alive? She wanted to wait for help. You felt trapped in this memory. A loop of telling Wynn she needed to run followed by watching the life leave her eyes right in front of you. You could still feel the warmth of her hot blood while holding her wound⏤ still feel the snapping of her ribs during the course of your desperate CPR. All useless. You didn’t save her. You sent her to her death. 

The sensation of having a towel thrown over your shoulders was startling. Your head snapped up to see Din knelt beside you. The shower head was off, Din’s gray pajama shirt plastered to his body on the side from water, and just behind him you could see the bathroom door hanging off it’s hinges.

“Ner kar’ta.” Din’s voice was rough. “Please talk to me.”

“Din?” You gasped. He had the large towel wrapped entirely around your body covering every inch of you. “What⏤ I don’t understand⏤”

“I heard something fall. I called out for you, over and over, but you didn’t respond.” Din replied. His voice took a sheepish tone. “I⏤I broke through the door.” He let his arms run over the towel covering your arms, giving them a squeeze. “Found you like this. Even when I turned the water off you still didn’t…”

It was the sight of your reflection in his visor and helmet that seemed to push you over your edge. Tears welled in your eyes and once the first ragged sob left your lips it was followed quickly by a string of others. Despite the fact that you were sitting on a tiled floor soaked with puddles, Din sat down right beside you and cautiously pulled you into his arms. You tucked yourself against his chest, and he fully enveloped you with his arms while resting his head on top of yours.

“It’s okay. You’re safe.” Din murmured. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You shook your head. Your sobs only interrupted by the sound of your lungs gasping for air. Din tightened his arms around you, a feat you didn’t know was possible, and you found comfort in his solid form. Din was here. Din made everything better. You weren’t sure how long the two of you sat there, but eventually Din mumbled softly, “We need to get you dressed. You’ll be cold soon.” You didn’t tell him that you’d never feel cold in his hold. “Need to treat your wounds too.”

Din helped you stand. He cautiously led you out of the shower, arm around your torso, and he stopped you in front of the bathroom counter. “I’m going to get the first aid kit from the kitchen. Are you going to be alright?”

You nodded. Din paused, as if hesitant, before returning the nod and moving toward the door. He mumbled a curse under his breath, you could hear it, and then he grabbed the large chunks of the door that had broken off when he rammed it to set aside where nobody would trip over them. While he was out, you grabbed his shirt and tugged it on⏤ using the damp towel to try and pat dry the dripping ends of your hair. Din returned, his visor scanning your body, before he settled beside you again.

With a focused intensity, Din applied a bit of bacta to the wound at your hairline and then rubbed some of it into the bruise around your neck as well. In the midst of his work, you whispered, “Wynn is dead.” Din’s fingers paused in their motion, surprise reading in his frame, but he was quick to return his movements and stance back to baseline. “She’s dead and I didn’t tell anybody. I forgot to tell someone.” Tears returned to your eyes. “I just left her in the street, Din. I left her like she meant nothing.”

“Hey.” Din said firmly. “This was during the firefight, was it not?” You nodded in confirmation. “You had no choice, ner kar’ta. That wasn’t your fault.”

“I think it was.” Your words fell out a pained whisper.

Din’s hands lifted to cradle your face and you leaned into his touch. It felt like he wanted to say something, but he paused. Instead, Din tangled his hand with yours and pulled you out of the bathroom. He didn’t ask, didn’t even hesitate, to pull you into his room. The moment you entered you heard Grogu’s familiar snores and it was such a comforting sound to hear after weeks sleeping in silence that you nearly cried. Din pulled back the covers and helped you slide in.

Rather than follow you into bed, he took a step back and the look on your face must have been obvious enough that he reached out to caress your face. “I’m coming back. I need to change clothes.”

Your eyes focused on the large wet stains from where you had been curled up into him. Din crossed the room and your eyes widened and bit when he began to pull his shirt off. His movements were confident and it warmed your heart that he was comfortable enough with you to reveal himself like this. Your eyes trailed over the expanse of his muscular back⏤ admiring the rugged lines of his broad shoulders and the various scars that littered his skin. Din pulled a new shirt on and you expected him to come back. Instead, Din began to pull off his sweatpants. Slowly, you sat up, pulling the sheets closer to you, and you couldn’t help but let your eyes trace the shape of his lower half. You were blatantly ogling this man in his boxer briefs as he tugged on a new pair of sweats. Before turning back around, you saw him pick up his vambrace, pressing a few buttons, before setting it down once more.

Din turned around, tying the strings at his waistband, and he chuckled. His voice came out as teasing and light hearted. Clearly trying to put you at ease. “Are you checking me out, ner kar’ta?” 

“I missed you so much.” You replied. Too tired, physically and emotionally, to tease back the way that you wanted to. Instead, the truth tumbled out of your lips.

He came back around to the bed and slipped under the sheets. As Din’s arm wrapped around your waist, you let him pull you back into laying down. You shifted so your head rested on his chest and Din began to drag his knuckles up and down your spine. “I missed you too. Being away from you was unbearable for Grogu and I both.” Din hummed. “He tried to stay up for you, but passed out. Grogu didn’t sleep well last night. I think my anxiety kept him up.” Your hand was resting on his side⏤ fingers dragging up and down his ribs. You mumbled into his chest. Din’s hand, the one rubbing your back, trailed up to rake through your hair. “I want to talk.”

“About?” You mumbled.

“Ner kar’ta.”

You let out a soft chuckle. “Din…”

“You don’t have to talk to me, you don’t have to tell me anything, but…” Din sighed, “I’d like to know. I want to help.” He massaged the back of your neck right where it met your skull and all your tension sat. A soft sigh left your body as you relaxed in his arms. “I sent Karga a message about Wynn. They’re going to find her. Put her to rest.” You buried your face down into his chest knowing your tears would dampen his new shirt all over again. “I just want to help.”

After a few moments of peaceful silence where you listened to Grogu’s snores and Din’s heartbeat, you turned so your face wasn’t pressed into his chest and you could speak. Hesitantly, you began to tell him what happened⏤ starting with the bombs that fell on Nevarro and ending with Paz leading you out of the burning city as you carried Elodie. The entire time Din didn’t speak. He’d mumble an acknowledgement or hum here and there, but he made no comment. 

When you finished, Din finally spoke up, “Tell me why you said what you did. You said what happened to Wynn was your fault.”

“She didn’t want to go. She wanted to stay hidden and wait for help.” You closed your eyes tightly as the memory of Wynn’s lifeless eyes assaulted you once more. “If I had listened to her she might be alive. Help did come. I⏤I should have been more patient.”

“Ner kar’ta, you made that decision based on the limited information you had. You didn’t know I was coming and bringing help. Where the three of you were hidden wasn’t safe. If one of the pirates did discover you, you’d be pinned down in a hole.” Din spoke with a firmness that left no room for argument. “In that moment, you made the best decision you could. You made the right decision.” He used the arm not around you to grasp your chin and tilt your head up so you were facing his visor. “Listen to me, ner kar’ta. That was not your fault. You did not take Wynn’s life, she gave it to save Elodie. Wynn is a hero. Don’t take that from her by shouldering needless blame.”

There was something about the way Din spoke that resonated with you. His words calmed the turmoil in your soul. Din could repeat the same sentiment that anyone else would speak, but when it came from his lips it soothed your wounds like a salve. He couldn’t heal everything, there was self reflection only you could puzzle through, but he was a hand to hold as you waded through the worst of it.

“Din…” You started. Before you finished your sentence, it occurred to you that the words you wanted to say were significant. You wanted to tell Din you loved him. That’s what you felt right now. It was overwhelming. It was all encompassing. 

Din still had his hand at your chin and he let his large hand shift from your chin to your jaw. He held the side of your face and let his thumb trace patterns in your skin. “Yes, ner kar’ta?”

Saying those words felt like quite the leap. You were confident in the way you felt about him and how he felt about you, but there was a part of you that couldn’t quite push the words out. You were too mentally wiped out to process those thoughts right now. Not knowing how else to express how grateful you were for this man, you turned your face so you could press a kiss to the palm of his hand.

Din let out a content sigh and he shifted his body so you could rest more comfortably against him. He hummed and you heard the rumble of it in his chest. “Get some rest. I’ll be here when you wake up.” He went back to soothingly dragging his fingers up and down your spine. “I’ll always be here.”

You let your eyes close and took a slow breath as Din’s warmth and the comforting smell of him lulled you into the best sleep you’ve gotten since Din and Grogu left. 

Nevarro was in pieces. Rubble decorated the streets and buildings were in shambles. Despite how terrible it looked, Din couldn’t help but be proud of the citizens of the city he looked after. They were strong. Nevarro was already healing only days after the attack. Din walked down the street with Grogu in his arms. The boy was squirming, wanting to get down, but with the rubble and debris Din didn’t want him wandering around. As he walked down the street, every once in a while a person would pause to thank him for bringing help⏤ bringing the Mandalorians. Din would nod in response, but it would shoot a pang of guilt through his chest. He didn’t deserve thanks. He had left them after all.

Din’s steps slowed as he began to pass the school house. Outside of the building, a memorial had been set up for Wynn. Candles, flowers, and cards covered the front steps and Din found himself letting out a sigh. The school teacher was a hero. Din meant that seriously when he spoke to you. It hadn’t been your fault, absolutely not, and both you and Wynn were the reason Elodie was alive and well. Her and her parents were currently off world. The little girl needed more intensive care than could be provided here, but last Din heard the child was doing very well.

“Miss?” Grogu mumbled. Din recognized the title Grogu would call his teacher. 

“Yes, ad’ika.” Din confirmed. Grogu’s ears wilted as he stared at the memorial. Din rubbed Grogu’s back and began to walk again with the goal to reach the clinic. You had left home early to go to work. You’d be there for any emergencies, per the norm, but you were also using today to see many of the people who were injured the day of for follow up. To ensure everyone was healing as they should. Din was of the opinion that you needed more rest, if not physical then mental, but trying to convince you of that was a near impossibility.

When Din reached the corner, Bo Katan pushed off a wall to join his pace. Her helmet was tucked under her arm. The Armorer had announced that the Mandalorians needed to come together rather than fall apart. It was a sentiment he could understand. Mayfeld had asked him about the helmet situation. Mandalorians coming together was a good idea, Din agreed, but coming to coincide with one another didn’t change the Creed he had dedicated himself to.

“Once this place gets cleaned up, I can see it being a nice place to live. To settle.” Bo hummed. Din nodded once, and she glanced his way. “I’m glad your partner is safe.”

“Thank you.” Din replied sincerely. 

“There is something I’d like to speak to you about.”

“I figured.” He said. “Does this have anything to do with retaking Mandalore?”

Bo chuckled, “Good guess.”

“What about it?”

“Well,” Bo kept by his side, “Is there anything I can say that will convince you to come with me to reclaim my fleet from Axe Woves?”

Din didn’t pause even a beat when he answered. “No. There isn’t.”

Bo sighed in annoyance and Din briefly felt guilt at the waves of frustration wafting off of Bo’s tense frame. Half of him felt like it was his duty to help in any way to restore Mandalore, but the other half could not even begin to fathom leaving you again. It occurred to Din that this might be selfish of him. His people needed him, right? He locked his jaw at the thought. 

“Your help would make this all go smoother, I think. We make a good team.” Bo said.

Din chuckled, “Did that hurt you to admit?”

“It did.” Bo smirked. “Which is why you should take it seriously.”

Din paused when the clinic came into view. He turned to face Bo and shook his head. “It’s not that I don’t want to help. Retaking Mandalore is a noble endeavor. One I would be honored to help in.” He paused. “But my family is here. I got lucky during that attack. I... I almost lost her.”

“I understand that.” Bo replied. “I know the weight of what I’m asking you, Djarin. I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t think it was important.”

Din glanced back to the clinic and did a double take when he saw you coming out. A smile began to form on his features, but it fell when he watched Paz walk out behind her with Ragnar by his side. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. You were wearing your white coat, a look Din truly loved on you, and Paz was chatting with you about something. Something that made you laugh in response. Since when was Paz funny? 

“Didn’t know you were the jealous kind, Djarin.” Bo chuckled.

Din snapped a glare at her. “I’m not jealous.”

“It’s all over your face.”

“I’m wearing a helmet.”

“Yet somehow I still know it is.”

Din grunted in mild annoyance. He wasn’t jealous. Per say.  It was just like with Vanth. Din was confident enough in his relationship with you, even as undefined as it currently was, that he wasn’t worried about someone sweeping you away. Din just had a bad habit of accidentally letting his possessive nature show and there was something about seeing his brother flirt with you that stirred him into wanting to fight.

Both you and Paz glanced down at Ragnar who must have been speaking and you set a hand on the boy’s shoulder with a smile. 

“Hm. They’d make a cute family.” Bo teased.

“Stop.” Din snapped.

He was caught off guard when Grogu jumped out of his arms. Him and Bo quickly followed after the boy who was in a mad rush toward you. Din watched as his son shoved past Ragnar, making the boy stumble enough that Din had a feeling the Force was involved, before leaping into your arms. 

“Oh, hey, baby.” You cooed.

“Ma. My Ma.” Grogu cuddled into your arms while shooting Ragnar a glare. 

Bo glanced at Din. “Aw. Like father, like son.”

Din wished he could take his helmet off just so Bo could see the full weight of the glare he currently wore. He continued forward until your eyes shot to him and the bright smile that filled your features just from spotting him. 

“What are you guys doing here?” You asked.

“Just checking in on you.” Din replied. Bo cleared her throat and Din sighed before nodding his head toward the woman standing beside him. “This is Bo Katan Kryze. Bo, this is Soran.”

You held your hand out to shake Bo’s hand and the red headed woman returned the greeting. Paz let one of his large hands settle on your shoulder and Din felt himself bristle at the motion. His older brother chuckled. “No need to worry. Wero’ika is doing more than fine.”

“Yeah, Paz brought me a late breakfast.” You chirped. 

Yeah, okay, Din was going to murder him.

“Oh, hang on,” You glanced over your shoulder, “I see a problem patient walking in. I’m not gonna subject Aayla to that.”

Din nodded once and you shot Bo and Paz a smile, squeezing Ragnar’s shoulder as well despite Grogu’s complaints, and then you turned to leave. As soon as you were inside the clinic, Din turned to Paz with a grunt. “Wero’ika? What the kriff is that?”

“A nickname, Djarin.”

“Mir’sheb.” Din snarled and Paz laughed in response. Ragnar tugged on his father’s arm before pointing off to the side. Paz nodded, telling him to be cautious, before the boy ran off to play with a group of kids down the street.

Bo chuckled. “I didn’t realize this was the beginning of a love triangle. Interesting.”

“It isn’t.” Din said.

Paz tilted his head and crossed his arms. “I’m unaware of Soran being in possession of a token of intention.”

“I’m working on it.” Din said through clenched teeth.

“Perhaps, I’ll work on it faster.”

Din knew Paz was just trying to get under his skin. Part of his frustration was the fact that it was working. His hands drifted to rest on his hips as he clenched and unclenched his jaw. Paz was smug. Din had known him long enough to recognize the set of his shoulders. 

“I’m⏤” Din began then cleared his throat. “I’m giving her time.”

“You’re wasting her time.” Paz argued with a chuckle. “Wero’ika⏤”

“Don’t call her that like you know her.” Din cut in. “A lot just happened. I’m not going to rush her into anything.”

He glanced from Paz to Bo then back to Paz. Din gave the man a gruff good-bye before pushing past the two of them to head into the clinic. He greeted Miriam at the front desk. Before he could cross the threshold into the main room, the young woman caught his attention and let him know that you were down the hall instead. Din furrowed his brow in confusion, but walked down to find you sitting in the break room snipping the sutures off a patient’s wound.

“Marshal.” The patient greeted with a nod that Din returned.

Grogu was playing with a latex glove on the counter while you worked. You shot him a smile before focusing back on your work. Din settled beside his son, leaning against the counter, and just admired you with a sense of calm. He wondered if Paz was right. Not a line he’d ever say out loud, but Din wondered if he was just finding another excuse to hide behind. He wasn’t sure what he was so afraid of. You’ve made your interest in him very clear, the two of you shared a bond like he’d never experienced before, but still he hesitated.

“Alright, it looks good. No need to restrict yourself, but if it starts bothering you again just let me know.” You smiled. The patient thanked you, gave him a final good-bye, then left. You wandered over to where he stood with Grogu and began to wash your hands in the sink. “Hey, so your brother seems cool.”

Din grunted. “Who Paz?”

“Yeah.” You turned the faucet off and grabbed a few paper towels. “I thought he might not like me because I yelled at him during the battle.” Din’s eyes widened. He’d have to ask about that. “But instead I think I accidentally earned his respect? Also, what does ‘wero’ika’ mean?”

Din chuckled. “Little Problem.”

Your jaw fell open. “He’s been calling me a little problem this entire time?” Din nodded. “Son of a bitch. I’m gonna need you to teach me something amusing and mildly rude to call him in return.”

“Oh, I can think of some names for him.” Din replied. He cleared his throat. “I, uh, wanted to talk to you about something, but don’t feel any pressure with this, alright?” You quirked an eyebrow at him. Your eyes briefly glanced at Grogu and you shot your hand out to snatch the latex glove from Grogu’s mouth and wagged a finger at him. “I left to redeem myself. To restore my Creed with the plans to…” Din shifted awkwardly. “To court you.” The corner of your lips curled up. “I know a lot has happened recently, so again there is no pressure here, but I wanted to…make my intentions known.”

You reached out and wrapped your hand above his elbow, between his armor plates, and gave it a small squeeze. “Din, I appreciate your patience and concern, but I⏤ I want this. I want you.” He sucked in a sharp breath. “So, just tell me how we do this. How does Mandalorian courting work? Do I sign on the dotted line or…?”

Din laughed, in part due to relief, “No. Nothing like that. I have…” He reached to the back of his belt to unhook the blade and sheath that was once his. Din brought it around to hold out to you and you stared at the blade curiously. “In Mandalorian custom, a token of intention is given to the person being courted and to accept it means accepting those advances.” Din cleared his throat again. Maker, his mouth was dry. “Tokens are usually a weapon with the person’s signet on it.”

He pulled the blade out of the sheath enough that you were able to see the mudhorn etched into the blade’s side. Din tucked the blade back into the sheath and gave you a small nod. With a bright smile, you took the blade from his hands and he felt like his heart was going to explode in his chest watching you run your finger against the mudhorn.

You held the blade against your chest and nodded. “I accept, Mandalorian.”

Grogu began to clap his hands together and you broke out into laughter that relaxed every single bone and muscle in his body. The only regret Din had was not doing this at home where he could pull his helmet off and kiss you.

mando'a translations:

ni ceta: sorry wero'ika: little problem ner kar'ta: my heart mir'sheb: smartass

taglist:

@aheadfullofsteverogers @yyiikes @kneelforloki @c-ms1ut @sgt-morgan @luthienaliceisilra @missbabyjay @coldlamaspersonspy @dilfsaremyfavourite @emily-roberts @djarinxore @impala1967666 @shelbyteller @faithrenner @dindjarindude @dankfarrick29 @garbo-lesbo @anythingforattention @tearfulsolace @onceinamando @catharinaroxastova @modiddys-blog @harriedandharassed @stagerightlauren @mini-bees @adoringanakin @sagegreensensei @spidey-3 @thepascalofus @hrtsforpascal @lil-dragon-draws @guccistardust @ideajpeg @leithatnight @elfamosotoga @damnzelsoul @the-anchored-sailor-girl @morks-watermelon @katelynmarieyt @taylorann2013 @chonkercatto @dheet @liadamerondjarin @fallinallinmendes @missdicaprio @jennaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa @alphaash99 @djarinsmixtape @pcrushinnerd @closedaddition

lee jeno x fem!reader (idol AU)

IMAGINE: you keep your relationship as private as possible

• he comes to pick you up every chance he gets when you have closing shift.

• you only do home dates, mostly at yours.

• lots of movie nights and take away dinners.

• cuddles are your night routine fr.

• "you're so warm and soft"

• during comeback season you don't hangout as much and he suffers the lack of your touch.

• "i miss you so much i think i'm gonna die" "you won't die, baby"

• shower sex is his thing. he loves it for some reason.

• "your skin is something else, i swear"

• he LOVES watching you getting ready in the morning, he knows your skin-care steps by heart.

• "you're very creepy, just there staring at me" "i'm very in love with you"

• a lot of skin-ship, he loves to touch and caress you.

• you're his comfort place.

• he doesn't speak a lot when you hangout but when he does, his deep and lazy voice never fails to turn you on.

• he's very good at using his hands and his tongue.

• when you complain about him going to the gym instead of spending time with you, he records himself doing some exercise and send you the video. you shut your mouth immediately.

• "you're the sexiest thing i ever saw in my life, istg" "(.◜◡◝)"

wayfaring stranger | prologue | rhett abbott x reader

Next Chapter | Masterlist

synopsis: betrayal sends Rhett veering further West, searching for answers and searching for himself. Instead, he finds you.

warnings: 18+, minors dni. Will be smut, violence and swearing

…

Rhett’s been saying that he’s going to get out of here for about as long as he can remember. Even before he was angry enough to say it out loud, the promise had been scrawled with adolescent lettering, held within the pages of a leather bound journal that had been a gift from his grandfather.

There were days that Rhett really meant it. Some days he meant it more than others. Some days, it was more of an affirmation than a plan. Leaving the courthouse on that day in April, looking his childhood sweetheart in the eye and telling her that he wasn’t coming back — that seemed more binding than any of the words he had told her before.

The sign looked bigger in his dreams. The Welcome to Wyoming, Forever West, planted in the dirt on the border of Montana — when Rhett had dreamed about covering it in dirt as it grew smaller in his rear view mirror, it had looked bigger. It had meant more.

His blue eyes watch the sign grow smaller. The road behind him isn’t empty like it always is in his dreams. There’s a minivan behind him, the tired brunette behind the wheel is bickering with a child in the backseat. Behind her, a truck that doesn’t look all that different from Rhett’s. He wonders if their journey is the same as his. He’s certain it’s not.

It’s a Wednesday when Rhett leaves. He doesn’t say a damn word to anyone other than Maria, they’ll just try to ask him to stay. The road behind him isn’t empty, and neither is the road ahead of him. It’s different than in his dreams, but not in a bad way.

Truthfully, it’s like a pinch to remind him that he’s actually awake. That he did it.

Radio off, everything he owns on the bench beside him.

In his dreams, Rhett makes it further. Drives until he hits the horizon and then some. On that Wednesday, he drives until he can barely keep his eyes open and he’s got a cramp in his calf from the stiff clutch pedal in his old truck. He doesn’t quite hit the horizon, but the glowing neon of a faded motel sign seems far enough there and then.

He has some money with him. It’ll get him where he needs to go, wherever that is. Winnings from bull riding and wages from helping out on neighboring ranches. What his father had paid him usually hadn’t ever stretched far enough to make it into the savings.

Rhett pays for a room for the night, though this is the kind of establishment that’s used to more of an hourly rate. He drops his bags onto the spare bed and sits down on the one that’ll be his for the night.

He’s a couple hundred miles in, near Richfield according to the last sign before he took his exit. Idaho. He’s been here a few times before. Riding competitions, auctions and stuff. It’s never made too much of an impression before and it doesn’t on that Wednesday night.

There’s nothing on TV, Rhett hadn’t thought to bring a book when he was packing in the middle of the night. After about an hour, Rhett can’t stand the sound of his own thoughts any longer. He grabs his coat and heads out, walking along the roadside for a bit until he’s at a bar off the side of the road.

Just another lonely stranger, sitting at a barstool. He considers tequila. After the couple of weeks he has had, he could do with something strong. But, he isn’t far enough — he still feels that pull, telling him to go home and won’t risk being too hungover to drive far enough to shake that feeling tomorrow.

In lieu of tequila, Rhett finds it’s warmth elsewhere. After a couple of beers, Rhett settles out his tab. Pleased with his manners and intrigued by how he teeters on the edge of kicked puppy and mysterious outlaw, the pretty girl behind the bar tells him her shift’s almost over.

Always a gentleman, Rhett makes sure she has someone to walk her to her car once she’s ready to go. It’s not his fault that they wind up walking a little bit past her car. It’s her hand that dips into his front pocket and retrieves his motel room key — her lips that drag along his throat, her hand that curls into his hair.

She kisses him goodbye the next morning. He isn’t sure how he feels about it, but her name plays on his mind through the morning and into the afternoon. Carrying with him through Idaho and into Oregon.

It’s a couple of days of that. Driving around, learning new names between thin motel sheets, forgetting them by sundown the next day.

Rhett’s mother always had it in her head that he was a womaniser. He isn’t sure where she got it from, considering that he didn’t have his first kiss until he already had his driver’s license.

The hard part is, Rhett hadn’t ever really known enough about himself to disagree with her. She raised him, saw the intricacies of his growing mind — if that’s what she said he was, then it must’ve been true. So, Rhett let it grow to be true.

He isn’t necessarily proud of it. But, he is somewhat proud of the manner in which he does it. He’s never resorted to a sleazy pick-up line or a bold-faced lie to get a woman into his bed. He’s quiet enough to be mysterious without being mysterious enough to be unapproachable. Handsome enough but not too put together.

It’s been four days since Rhett left Wyoming when he realises that yesterday, he had turned back around. He’s on the cusp of Montana, headed back the way he came.

He had stopped feeling the pull a day or so ago, because he had already turned back towards it. He’s pulled off to the side of Route 212 in the parking lot of a diner, his head in his hands.

This had been predicted. It had been Cecelia’s go to answer every time Rhett had threaten to leave. Go on then, I’ll be here when you get back. She hadn’t meant it with spite, but those words had always struck Rhett like venom. When you get back, because she was so confident that he would.

He hadn’t ever let her explain whether she thought that he’d be back because he belonged there or because she thought he just couldn’t make it on his own.

Either way, she’s wrong.

Rhett just needs a destination — an end goal. After five days of driving through the West, he feels scattered, and it’s just going to get worse. It was kind of stupid, to pack up and leave without anywhere to go.

That’s all he has to do — figure out where he’s going.

He grabs his baseball cap from beside him on the truck bench and secures it over his messy hair, leaving the truck in its space as he heads into the almost empty diner.

He takes a seat up by the counter and orders a coffee from the polite, young waitress standing behind the counter. He probably should eat too, he just can’t stand the thought of more diner food. It takes him a while, but he orders a sandwich finally. It’s the only thing on the menu that contains a vegetable and his body’s going to give out if it doesn’t get one of those soon.

With no one here now to tell him not to play with his food, Rhett sits distracted. Under fluorescent light, calm country playing over a radio in the kitchen, he takes his time to look around him as he picks at his sandwich.

There’s a pinboard that sits behind the counter. It’s partially blocked by the pale blue uniform shirt of the waitress as she texts on her phone, but Rhett can still see most of it.

Missing people, things for sale, help wanted signs — there’s a mixture of stuff on there. There’s a piece of yellow card that stands out. Ranch Hands Wanted. The Blue Mountain Ranch, MT.

It’s a stupider idea than driving aimlessly around the country, falling right back into what he’s running away from. Still, his mouth makes the decision before his head is on board.

“‘Scuse me,” Rhett’s voice gruff from not speaking much, he quietly clears his throat and brings his coffee cup closer to him. The waitress turns towards him and raises her eyebrows, a polite smile on her lips. “Could I see that notice, please?”

A quick glance behind her to see which one he’s talking about, and then she’s looking at him dubiously. Her smile grows with intrigue. Rhett swallows, watching as the unpins the yellow paper from the board and sets it down on the counter in front of him.

He turns his gaze down and starts to read through the desired skills. All stuff that he’s been doing since he was a kid. Herding cattle, fixing fences. Nothing new except the scenery.

“Thinking of joining the Mountain?” She asks. Rhett looks up at her over the brim of his baseball cap. She’s resting both hands on the counter and leaning forwards slightly, interested.

“Does that sound like a bad idea?” He asks in response, setting the paper down on the countertop beside his coffee. He leans back in his seat and parts his knees. She looks him up and down, pink lips quirking slightly at the edges.

Handsome guy like him, hands that are clearly used to some dirty work — Lena’s got a very good friend on that ranch that could do with a pick me up.

She gives her head a soft shake, “Actually, I think you’d fit right in.”

Rhett hums. He bites the inside of his cheek as he looks down at the printed information. Somewhere to lay low until he’s got a destination in mind doesn’t sound too bad. As long as he’s not back there, it doesn’t matter.

girlies when Jere has his hair slicked back