summary | in your darkest hour, matt doesn't answer the phone. but frank does.
warnings | blood, death, violence, attempted robbery, religious trauma, possible infidelity, matt's lowkey kind of a bitch in this but that's ok, probably deviates from canon at times but fuck it we ball, MDNI 18+
word count | 3.5k
// masterlist // send me your thoughts // comments & reblogs appreciated! //
Blood wept from your fingertips, dripping onto the asphalt.
It had soaked through the man’s shirt. Oozed from the scattered holes in his chest, pooling around his torso. His lungs breathed no air. His eyes didn’t blink, gazing sightless up towards the Heavens.
Sickness hit in a crushing wave.
You doubled over, clutching your stomach as bile surged up your throat, burning over your tongue. The gagging continued long after there was nothing left, saliva dribbling from your bottom lip.
Then there was stillness.
Not the stillness of calm, or peace. But punishment. Sentencing. The solemn gaze of an all-forgiving Father as he stands before you, stone in-hand.
[To kill is a violation of Faith—]
{—You or them?}
The gun had still been smoking when it’d clattered at your feet.
Regret felt like a wet blanket on your shoulders, suffocating in its weight. You couldn’t stand it.
Couldn’t stand.
Asphalt dug into your knees, crumpling at the man's side. Your hands had been shaking as you grabbed his wrist, searching for a pulse, praying for it in the way a sinner prays for absolution.
You found none.
No pulse. No absolution.
Still, you tried. Locked your fingers over his chest—pressing and pressing, trying and trying. Until thick ribs cracked and caved, until your palms were drenched in warmth and death and–
Rain.
It was raining.
Little drops, softly pattering all throughout the alleyway. You watched, dazed, as they slid down the lit-up screen in your hands.
You didn’t remember pulling out your phone, but you remembered making the call.
Calls.
In the Bible, the number seven is considered sacred. Symbolic of divine oaths and promises, of perfection in the purest, most angelic sense.
Seven times you called the Devil.
Seven times he didn’t answer.
You tilted your head back. The rain fell faster, cool drops steady rolling down your cheeks. The sky was a yawning, starless expanse. In the past, you’d always said that’s why you hated the city. The lack of stars—veiled by pollution and human selfishness, replaced by a twinkling skyline made of artificial hope.
But tonight was different. Tonight, you were glad for their absence.
At least the stars hadn’t seen what you’d done.
Blood smeared across the phone screen as you dialed your eighth call. A different tone than before; a number not saved but remembered.
A number you’d promised Matt you’d never call again.
{In case you ever need it—}
[—I don’t trust him.]
What is trust?
Once, it felt like the comfort of sunlight pouring through stained glass windows. Sitting amidst the oaken pews with a man at your side—a soft man dressed in a sharp suit, his glasses tinted red and his heart pure gold.
Now, trust felt like the relief of a call that rang only once. Of cold fear melting into the gruff warmth of another’s voice, heavy with concern as they answered: “You alright?”
You almost laughed.
No. Of course not—because why would you call Frank Castle if you were anything other than desperate?
“Are you busy?” you asked, awkward and hesitant.
In hindsight, the question felt stupid. There was a body lying in front of you, and certainly no amount of busyness took precedence over that. But then, Matt must’ve been busy. Playing dutiful layer or God’s lone soldier. That’s why he hadn’t answered.
Unless…
[Elektra’s just a friend—]
{—That what we are?}
On the other end of the line, Frank urged, “C’mon now, doll, you gotta answer me, alright?” Had he asked something? You hadn’t noticed. “Where’re you at?”
“An alley.”
A rough, humorless chuckle. “Little more specific, sweetheart.”
Five blocks from Matt’s apartment, you thought.
“Off West 51st,” you said.
“Don’t move.” There was the sound of a door slamming, of boots pounding down a flight of stairs. “I’m on my way.”
Panic thrashed in your veins, anticipating the sharp click of a call gone dead. “Wait!” A cry, a plea—but for what? You had no clue what to say next.
You hadn’t told him about the man, or the gun, or the sin.
And Frank hadn’t asked. You knew this was because the Why? for your call hadn’t mattered to him.
Only that you had.
{You call, I come—}
[—Frank Castle is a murderer.]
Your eyes squeezed shut. You went to rub them, then remembered the blood dripping from your hands.
So am I, you thought. So am I.
Frank said your name. Once, twice.
Quietly, you asked, “Will you stay on the phone?”
The sound of another door pushing open, a great whoosh! of air as the city unfolded around him: sirens screaming, traffic blaring. With your eyes closed, you could almost see—shoving from his apartment building, marching down darkened sidewalks with a determined clench in his jaw.
It wasn’t a man coming to save you, nor a vigilante.
It was a soldier.
After drawing in a breath, Frank uttered, “‘Course.”
Time dragged.
Hell’s Kitchen droned around you. Occasionally, Frank would ask: You good? to which you replied: How far are you? At some point, you drifted further from the man’s body. Ended up sitting on the ground, your back pressed to a brick wall.
Your emotions were still fuzzy, as dull as the blunt edge of a knife. But your nerves… those were razor sharp.
You watched both ends of the alleyway. Vigilant, afraid. Your muscles tensed whenever a car door shut too loud, whenever a stranger passed beneath the distant, buzzing streetlights.
What if someone noticed?
Gunshots weren’t such a strange thing in the Kitchen. The Devil couldn’t be everywhere at once, and the cops were either too busy or too lazy to investigate every bang! in the night.
But if someone noticed you like this—curled on the ground, a dead man at your feet and violent red on your skin…
He started it, you reminded yourself. Self-defense is absolvable.
[To a judge? Or to God?—]
God doesn’t matter.
[—Why didn’t you call 9-1-1?]
Why didn’t you answer?
Your grip tightened around the phone. “How far now?”
“Check your nine.” In the second it took for you to envision a clock, Frank had already amended, “Left, sweetheart.” There was the barest hint of a smile in his voice. “Look left.”
You did.
Frank was little more than a formless figure approaching. He was dressed in all black, his hood up against the rain. You couldn’t see his face, but you didn’t need to. His presence was enough to ease the frantic beat of your pulse.
When he was close enough to hear, you hung up the phone. Wiped your nose on your sleeve and sniffed, “Took you long enough.”
Cool and calculating—two descriptors that fit Frank best as he scanned the scene. He took note of the discarded gun, the puddle of watered down blood, the man with three bullets in his chest.
You were the last thing he noted, and the only one to put a crack in his stern exterior.
“Smart enough to practice law,” Frank lightly joked, “but not to read a goddamn clock, huh?”
A laugh sputtered past your lips, melding into a broken sob.
“Paralegals don’t practice,” you argued, ignoring the tears wetting your cheeks. “And I can read a clock just fine, asshole.”
There was a softness to his face, one brow raising. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” So long as it’s in front of you, and you’re telling time and not direction.
Frank hummed, his knees popping as he crouched down beside you. “Well I ain’t got a watch,” he said, “so I guess I’ll have to take your word for it.”
Another weak laugh faded into quiet.
Then, more hesitant than you’d ever heard him before, Frank asked, “You wanna tell me what happened?”
Something about the way he said it struck you as odd. Like it was a choice—that you didn’t have to explain. If you wanted, the secrets of tonight could remain just that: Secrets, known only by you and a man who had no voice to share them.
[Do you remember Psalm 80:9?—]
Even secret sins are exposed in His light.
{—How do you deal with it? All Red’s Catholic bullshit?}
By believing in it.
Frank took your silence for an answer. Shifted as if he might reach out, offer comfort. Instead, his fingers curled into loose fists.
“How ‘bout you go wait around the corner,” he offered, “and let me take care of all this?”
You weren’t sure what Frank’s version of ‘taking care of this’ entailed, but you knew you were comfortable with never finding out.
Frank followed suit as you pushed off the ground. His movements were precise and easy, while yours were graceless and weighted. Standing, the world seemed to shift beneath your feet. Your mind was still hazy, your bones tired.
Existence had become an arduous task.
“When you’re… done,” you managed, your arms curled tight around your waist, “what then?”
You didn’t want to go home—or to Matt’s.
You didn’t want to feel alone.
As if he understood this, Frank simply answered, “I’ll take you back to my place. Get you cleaned up, let you rest awhile.” His head tilted slightly. “You like pizza?”
The world was ending.
And yet here stood Frank—no Bible quotes or Hail Mary’s, no judgement for the sin you’d committed or the mess he had to clean. He offered only calm, only patience—and pizza of all things.
[What do you see in him?—]
{—Let me take care of all this.}
You nodded.
Frank’s apartment was bleak.
One room total—unless you counted the cramped shoebox of a bathroom, which you did not. The front door opened into a shoddy kitchenette, connected to a living room that clearly doubled as his bedroom.
He owned minimal furnishings. There was a lumpy couch, a small table with one chair, an old doormat that read Stay Awhile! except the Awhile had been all but completely rubbed off. You assumed that’s why it was inside instead of out—because even indirectly, Frank Castle wasn’t the type to ask anyone to Stay.
Behind you, Frank grunted as he kicked his boots off onto the mat. You wondered if you should do the same, but didn’t.
It felt strange to be in Frank’s apartment. Not because it made you uncomfortable, but because it didn’t. You felt fine. Still shaken, still a little sick—but safe.
Would Matt be able to tell? Would he smell the gunpowder and Old Spice clinging to your skin and know that you’d been with Frank?
That’s how you knew when he’d been with Elektra. You didn’t need super senses to smell her perfume—a heady mix of cloves and something citrus, lingering on his shirts as plain as if it were lipstick on the collar.
Unthinking, you said, “You should get a bird.”
Frank chuckled. “Yeah? And why’s that?”
You weren’t sure. It was just the first thing that had come to mind, a means of evicting Elektra from your thoughts.
“It could liven the place up,” you suggested. Though, after taking another glance around, you realized that might be asking too much of one little bird.
He’d need a flock.
Frank slipped past you, warmth crawling up your spine at the slight brush of his hand against your back. You told yourself it was unintentional—no more intimate than someone scooting past you in a crowded bar or a grocery store aisle.
Still, the warmth lingered.
“Don’t think I’m much of a bird guy,” Frank admitted from the kitchenette. Then, nodding towards the couch, he added, “Sit.”
You drifted that way and sank into the cushions. The springs were practically nonexistent, and the brown leather peeled like a bad sunburn—impossible not to pick at.
“What kind of guy are you, then?” you asked, more interested in a distraction than his answer.
Frank dug around in the cabinets, grabbed a plastic mixing bowl, and went to the sink. “I like dogs,” he told you, loud enough to be heard over the running water filling the bowl.
You pretended not to hear him anyway.
After starting at Nelson & Murdock, you’d planned to get a dog. It seemed like the right time. You had your own place, your own income—and you knew Foggy would love having something cute and furry around the office. But then you got closer to Matt, and the dream died before it ever began.
Dogs were too much for Matt. Too many smells, too many sounds, too many textures. Back then, you’d thought it was a reasonable sacrifice. No dog in exchange for an incredible boyfriend.
You knew better now.
You should’ve picked the dog.
Dragging the lone chair from the table, Frank settled in front of you with the bowl of steaming water and a thin cloth. His eyes went straight to your hand. You assumed it was because of the dried blood until he said, “You’re fucking up my couch.”
You stopped picking, dusting the flakes of leather onto the floor. “It was already fucked,” you defended.
“So you gotta make it worse?”
You fixed him with a blank stare. “Nothing could make this couch worse.” Short of setting it on fire, that is.
“That how we’re gonna play this?” Frank looked like he was holding in a laugh. “I let you in, offer you food—and you pay me back by talkin’ shit about my couch?”
“It’s not just the couch,” you stated plainly. “It’s the whole apartment.”
It reminded you of prison—a place that you, Foggy, and Matt had worked hard to keep Frank out of. Even if the trial hadn’t gone as expected, you hated the idea that all that fight had been for this: A peeling couch, a faded doormat, a lonely little chair.
Frank deserved better than that.
[Have you forgotten?—]
[Castle was charged with 37 counts of murder]
[—Why are you so attached to this case?]
With the bowl balanced on top of his legs, Frank dipped the cloth in and wrung it out as he joked, “Guess I need that bird.”
Your lips twitched. Not quite a smile, but close.
“Guess so.”
Frank held out an open palm. Without thinking, you laid your hand against his.
The water was too hot. Not quite burning, but still uncomfortable as he pressed the cloth to your wrist. But you didn’t flinch, utterly motionless as he wiped in slow, circular motions.
His touch was far lighter than you’d imagined.
Not that you ever had imagined it.
As the cloth moved down to your fingers, Frank’s focus grew more intent. He was meticulous in cleaning every line of your knuckles, the dried blood caked under your nails.
Only when the water in the bowl had turned the color of rust, the cloth stained and your skin spotless, did Frank trade one of your hands for the other.
Only then did you confess.
“He had a knife.”
Half a second—that’s how long Frank’s movements faltered before he kept on cleaning. You were thankful he didn’t try to look you in the eye. That he didn’t have to for you to know he was listening.
“Foggy has a deposition in the morning,” you continued shakily. “He always forgets to print his motion, so I stopped by the office to do it for him and… I don’t know. On the way back home, I could just feel it, you know? That someone was there. That they were following me.”
An understanding nod as Frank moved the cloth to your index finger.
“I know it’s stupid,” you told him. “But I thought if I cut through the alley, got closer to Matt’s, then–”
He’d hear it, if the worst happened. The Devil would come. Your boyfriend—if you could even still call him that—would save you.
But that had been a stupid, childish thought.
“I figured I could lose,” you said instead. “That I could turn the corner and just run in circles until he gave up. But he was fast. I wasn’t even halfway down the alley when he ran up behind me, when grabbed my shoulder and–”
Your breath caught. Frank’s touch moved slower, gentler—a feat you wouldn’t have thought possible. His eyes caught yours in a concerned glance. Only then did you remember how to breathe.
“It was just a knife, Frank. A knife—and I pulled out a gun!” A short, hollow laugh. “I should have let him rob me,” you rationalized. “At least a wallet can be replaced. But him, his life–”
Frank cut you off. “How do you know?”
Your brows furrowed in answer.
His hand went still against yours, holding the cloth wrapped around your ring finger. “That that’s all he wanted,” Frank gruffly clarified. “To rob you.”
“I don’t, but–”
“You remember what I told you? When I taught you how to shoot?”
{You or them?—}
Frustrated, you insisted, “It’s not that easy, Frank. It’s not my choice!”
[—It’s up to God, who lives and who dies.]
Frank shook his head. “That’s the Catholic in you,” he argued.
“I’m not Catholic,” you snapped, low but harsh. Frank looked confused, and you fought to keep the shame from your voice as you muttered, “Not anymore.”
Religion, you’ve learned, is a funny sort of thing. Even when you stop believing, it never truly goes away. God becomes a ghost under your skin, a divine haunting that borders on insanity. You will always think in terms of Sinners and Saints. You will always know that no amount of repentance will ever mold your soul into something more like the latter.
Frank wasn’t the type to pry any further.
Instead, he adjusted your hand. Carefully dragged the cloth along the curve of your fingernail. The water had cooled, now too cold where it was once too hot.
“It doesn’t matter what he was going to do,” you decided. “It only matters that I killed him.”
This time, it was Frank’s breath that hitched.
“No you didn’t,” he said, and you had never heard someone tell a lie so matter-of-fact.
“I did–”
He looked up. A muscle feathered in his jaw, and when he spoke, it was with the steely resolve of a no nonsense Marine.
“No. I did.”
You blinked at him.
“I gave you that gun,” he continued. “Gave you that goddamn advice, too. That no matter what, you always gotta pick you. And see, I don’t regret that shit either because all that? It kept you alive. Kept you breathing. And if some no-good prick’s gotta so you get to live? Fine. Good.”
You couldn’t speak. Couldn’t do anything but stare at him.
“But if someone’s gotta bear the weight of that guy’s miserable life,” Frank told you, “then let it be me, alright?” His gaze fell, lingering on your lips a moment too long before he uttered, “‘Cause I ain’t gonna let it be you.”
[You care about him—]
[—Don’t you?]
Do you care about her?
[Elektra’s just a friend—]
…
[—Can you say the same about Frank?]
You studied the man before you.
Frank Castle. The Punisher.
The one you shouldn’t call, shouldn’t trust. A murderer and a felon, a crack in your already crumbling relationship. Someone you tried to stay away from, tried to forget.
A number not saved, but remembered.
No, you thought, and wondered if Matt already knew. I can’t.
Swallowing, you looked down at your joined hands. The blood was almost all gone now, washed away by someone far more damned than you.
“Okay,” you said. There was no need to say anything else, no need to keep bearing the crushing weight of your newly acquired sin—not when God was a ghost and the Devil had abandoned you, not when a Soldier was so willing to bear it for you.
“You know,” you said, deftly changing the subject, “my brain’s a little hazy, but I’m pretty sure you promised me pizza.”
Frank fought the subtle curve of his lips. “Did I?”
You nodded, and he chuckled.
“Fine–” he refocused, back to cleaning off the last of the blood–“but you’re placin’ the order.”
You mocked him, Fine!, while sliding your phone from your pocket. The screen lit up with two missed calls and one text.
Matthew: Sorry, got caught up with something. Everything OK?
Your thumb hovered over the message.
In the Bible, the number eight is symbolic of many things. Resurrection is one of them; something dead brought back into eternal life. Once, you would’ve seen Matt’s text—a string of eight words—and wondered if that meant something. If maybe there was something left of your love to be resurrected.
Now, you stole a glance at Frank—your eighth call—and thought of new beginnings. Of choosing your own path.
You cleared Matt’s message.
Tapped on the Safari icon and asked, “Do you want somewhere specific?”
“Ever been to Lombardi’s?” suggested Frank.
You shook your head. “Is it good?”
Frank cut you a look. “‘Course it’s good. But knowin’ you, you’ll probably shit talk it the same way you did my couch.”
A smile tugged at your lips. “Keep it up,” you teased, already typing the restaurant into the search, “and your only company’s gonna be the couch and the bird.”
He chuckled. “I ain’t gettin’ a bird.”
You'd just pressed the phone to your ear, already listening to it ring when you built up the nerve to ask, "What about a dog?"
Frank set the cloth in the bowl. Gave your hand a gentle squeeze.
“Maybe a dog.”
a/n - this has been sitting in my drafts literally since january. i can't decide if i like it or hate it, but i've gotten into too much of a habit of writing, overthinking, and then never posting---so, here it is! thank you to anyone who takes the time to read it <3
Summary: as riduurs, you and Din can finally show your faces to each other without suffering any consequences. but when the time finally comes, your insecurities and fears of rejection come into play, threatening to ruin this important moment
Tags: just pure tooth-rotting fluff, Din and Reader being insecure, they're sweethearts though and so in love, Din being a supporting husband <3, mandalorian customs are probably half-accurate but i did my best in research 😌
Word count: 3K
A/N: haiii guys!! long time no see 🤗 i had this idea ever since i watched s2 of the mandalorian almost a month ago and i'm finally done! thank you to all who stick around and i really hope you'll enjoy my first attempt at writing din (feel free to let me know what you think 🤭)! i love all of you darlings 🥰 and as always, happy reading!! 💕
Din Djarin wouldn’t ever admit it to anyone, but he always wanted a family. The memories of his parents were hazy, but he remembered how much they loved each other and in the depths of his soul longed for a connection like this someday. Being the bounty hunter didn’t give many opportunities to look for a relationship, however, and with time he abandoned the hope for a place and people he could call home. He convinced himself that he was content being on his own.
But then the Child came along, and with it everything has changed. This little wrinkly womp rat became the most precious being in his life and Din was ready to die to protect Grogu – but he never expected that he’d also meet his future riduur because of the kid.
He did. You, a fellow Mandalorian Din spoke to only a couple of times in the hideout on Nevarro, decided to help him on his quest, and from this moment on he didn’t stand a chance. You were everything Djarin admired – brave, compassionate, skillful and kind – and though you both respected the Way of the Mandalore and never removed your helmets in each other’s presence, he knew in his soul that you were beautiful as well.
It was a long road to come to terms with what he felt for you and gather the courage to actually let you know it. But it was all worth it just for this moment when you exchanged your vows and he officially became yours, and you his. Now you were his riduur and he finally had every right to admire and cherish you like you deserved.
And most importantly, he could finally see you. The pair of you talked about this moment a lot during the nights spent on the Crest, tangling your fingers together when the ship was flooded with pitch-black darkness. Din used to whisper to you of his dreams, how he longed to run his eyes over your uncovered body, taking his time to commit to memory every little detail of your physique and expressions. You, with a giddy and wistful tone, told him how impatient you were to at last find out how his lips would feel on yours and what color his eyes were. Even when you both knew you were going to marry, you didn’t rush things and never removed your helmets until your union became official.
But you did see each other’s faces, once, though not in a conventional way. Din remembered it clearly as a day, though his eyes – as well as yours – were covered by a piece of a material the entire time. Both of you were desperate for each other that night, the tension hanging above your heads straining the resolve about waiting. And then came the moment when you didn’t fight it anymore. Instead, you both sat down on Din’s cot and without your sense of sight spent the next hour talking and trailing fingertips down each other’s faces.
Din reminisced about this moment a lot of times. He tried to remember the shape of your features to create a full picture of you in his mind while he laid alone in his bed, longing for your vicinity. Even if your bodies were separated only by the layers of beskar, it was still too far for him.
He didn’t have to wait any longer now.
It was the day of your wedding and Din Djarin never felt happier than in that moment when you recited Mandalorian vows and he got to touch your bare hand again, not covered by a glove, to put a custom-made ring on your finger. It wasn’t a necessary but he wanted to make this day memorable and meaningful for you. A few tears of joy were shed, but his face was still concealed by the helmet, allowing his emotions to take hold of him.
He hadn’t let go of your hand since the small ceremony (if one could even call it that) ended, and you squeezed his palm every few steps as you walked toward a house that was going to be your home for the next couple of days. The Child was being taken care of by other Mandalorians so that you could be completely alone for this special moment.
You were buzzing with excited energy for the whole week prior to your wedding, but now Din could sense his partner’s nervousness. He wasn’t exactly surprised – after all, it has been years for both of you since anyone saw you without your helmet on. But with every moment that you neared the bedroom, you seemed more insular, more withdrawn and hesitant, and Din started to really worry.
“Are you okay, cyar’ika (darling)?”
You slowed down, not answering right away, which caused Din to furrow his brows with confusion. Maybe you didn’t want to do it after all? Maybe it was too sudden for you? Or maybe he came off as too eager?
“Cyar’ika,” he repeated softly, wanting to put you at ease – but it didn’t seem to meet the target. “If you’re not ready…”
“No. No, I’m ready. I just…”
You trailed off. Din wordlessly guided you to the edge of the bed, cradling your hands in his – one gloved one and one not. The light of the setting sun flowed in through the small window and reflected off the hard beskar you both wore, bathing your figure in a beautiful golden light.
He was already so in love with you. What could possibly be the cause of your hesitation?
“I’m just nervous,” you murmured at last with your head bowed, looking at your joined hands. “I don’t want you to be disappointed.”
“Disappointed?” the Mandalorian repeated before he could think, and shook his head slightly. “What are you… What are you talking about? Why would I ever be?”
You lifted your gaze, and though Din couldn’t see your eyes, he could almost feel the weight of your fears on his own shoulders. The modulator in your helmet was hiding any trace of it, but he knew you long enough to recognize the tiniest shift in your body language.
“Ner kar’ta (my heart). I could never be disappointed with you.” He laced his fingers with yours, once again admiring how perfectly they fit together, and lifted them to his chest. “You own my heart and soul now, and nothing will change that.”
He hoped to soothe your nerves, but you were still silent. It wasn’t at all what Mando was expecting from this evening and he was at a loss for what to do to fix it.
“Would it help if I showed you my face first?” he asked after some time, and your head snapped up.
“No.” Even with the modulator, your voice clearly sounded broken and regretful, and it was wounding Din more than anything else could. “We were supposed to do it together.”
“We can,” he assured quietly, swiping his thumb over your knuckles. “But the most important thing to me… is for you to feel comfortable during it. If you want to wait–”
“I don’t.” You untangled your hands from his hold and instead brought them to his chest, placing them on the beskar breastplate. He couldn’t wait to take it off and feel your touch on his skin. “If I wasn’t sure, I wouldn’t marry you and make you my riduur.”
You leaned forward and lightly bonked your helmets together, a sweet gesture Din loved since the first time you did it.
“Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum or’atu an mayen. (I love you more than anything.) More than life itself.”
“I know,” he answered simply and delicately brought your hands to the edges of his helmet. It was obvious what he was offering you. “That’s why I’m willing to do it for you.”
You were still, not daring to move, and Din nodded slightly to show you that he’s certain of his decision. His heart was beating heavily in his chest, though, and he could feel sweat forming on the back of his neck.
Showing your face to others was one of the worst crimes in Mandalorian culture, but doing it with your riduur was the highest honor that not everyone was fortunate enough to experience. But Din Djarin was among the lucky ones. Even though it was not in a way he always imagined, he didn’t care as long as you were happy.
You gripped the edges of his helmet tighter and a high hiss sounded, a telltale sign that the metal piece was ready to be removed. And slowly – so very slowly – you did. Din felt a flow of cooler air on his hot skin: first his chin, then his cheeks, finally his forehead…
And lastly, he inhaled shakily before lifting his head to look into the void of your visor.
A second passed by. Then two. Then ten, though Din felt like it must’ve been a full minute now. And still you didn’t move, just watched him silently, motionless as a statue.
The Mandalorian swallowed with difficulty, starting to feel very self-conscious. The crisp air cooled the sweat gathering on the nape of his neck and he had to use all his self-control not to fiddle his fingers nervously. He felt so naked and exposed under your gaze, though he absolutely shouldn’t – you were his riduur and there was no reason to feel ashamed or insecure with you. But he couldn’t help worrying: what if he wasn’t what you expected? What if you didn’t find him attractive at all?
Then a movement of your hands drew his attention and he watched, transfixed, as you slowly started to take off your glove, tugging one finger off at a time. Once your hand was freed from the confines of the protective material, you flexed your fingers before lifting both of your palms to his face.
Even though Din was acutely aware of your every move, he still somehow flinched in surprise at your touch, causing you to freeze and search his eyes with the air of concern around you. He quickly gave you a small nod, silently begging you to proceed, and, thankfully, you did. Your fingertips traced his cheeks, so delicately it almost tickled, brushing down the path to his stubble, and then back up to the arch of his nose and eyebrows. Djarin’s eyelids fluttered closed and he let out a shaky breath, giving in to the most amazing sensation that your touch was.
“I knew you had to be the most beautiful being in the galaxy,” you whispered from under your helmet with a voice filled with a plethora of raw emotions. Din regretted not being able to see your face at that moment, but if it would help you feel more comfortable in such a memorable and important situation, he was ready to do anything for you.
“I’m sure you’re a million times more radiant, cyar’ika,” he said back. His voice was weirdly weak and raspy, sounding strangely to him – probably because he knew there was another person hearing him without his helmet on. “Even if I don’t see your face, mesh’la (beautiful), today or ever… The love I have for you will never change or waver. That I promise.”
“It won’t exactly be fair to the Creed if I don’t remove my helmet in front of my husband,” you answered, half-teasing, but Din knew there was a real worry behind your words.
“You know very well there’s nothing said about it in the Creed.” He opened his eyes, offering you a small smile. “And I don’t remember our vows mentioning it, either.”
You clicked your tongue with exasperation, but Din also saw your shoulders relaxing, a sign that some of your nerves ebbed away.
“Gev bic (stop it),” you laughed, letting your hand fall down – but before it could happen, Din caught your wrist and lifted it back to his face. He slowly kissed the inside of your palm, down to the veins disappearing under your sleeve, his eyes fixated on your visor the entire time. His smile grew slightly when he felt a shiver run through you.
“I love you, ner kar’ta,” he whispered. “Even if you’re a half-Hutt under your armor.”
“Don’t push it.”
You let go of his hand and Din’s face fell, fearing that he really went too far. He reached for you but stopped when you straightened up and took a deep breath, your hands going to the last thing that separated you from him – your helmet.
He held his breath and his heart beat erratically as he watched you. He tried not to blink, not wanting to miss the moment when he finally got to see your face. Just the fact that you were willing to do this meant so much to him, but…
Slowly, you took your helmet off and placed it down on the mattress right next to his. Then, a pair of irises gazed into the depths of Din Djarin’s heart.
…you were wrong.
Oh, how wrong you were.
There was no mistaking it that you were by far the most breathtaking sight the Mandalorian had ever laid his eyes on.
The Maker must’ve been overly generous, or maybe favored you, for looking at you… it felt like coming home.
You stared at him with gentle, tentative eyes of the most beautiful color in the world, and Din would’ve gladly lost himself in them. Your lips, so tempting and soft-looking, were parted slightly as you awaited his reaction, but he couldn’t move. He just watched, spellbound, and wondered if this truly is reality and not some cruel, elusive dream.
He hadn’t felt such awe even when he saw Grogu doing his magic for the first time. Hadn’t felt such elation even when a new skin made of beskar was forged just for him. Had never before felt such love in his life.
You were a wonder. A miracle.
“Cyare?”
Your voice sounded almost fearful to your ears, but you couldn’t help it – Din seemed unable to utter even a word, and panic started to flood your veins when you noticed tears gathering in his dark, beautiful eyes. “Din–”
But before you could move away, he slipped off the bed and knelt by your feet. You were so taken aback by this action that you didn’t even react when he cradled both of your hands in his and pressed lingering kisses to your fingers, one after another.
“If I could, I’d marry you all over again,” he rasped, meeting your gaze with so much love and adoration in his brown eyes that it took your breath away. “How did I get so lucky…?”
“I think I’m the lucky one,” you let out a breathless laugh of relief, your pupils darting across the lines and grooves of his face. “You… you’re not just saying that, right?”
“Cyar’ika, look at me.” He gently tilted your chin up, making your eyes meet his. For a second he faltered, parting his lips in wonder at the feeling of your skin under his fingertips, before he swallowed and gazed at you again. “Do you doubt my words?”
No. There was really no questioning his motives. You knew Din was as honest as one could be and there were only your own insecurities at play here. But the longer you looked at him, his expression so full of love and devotion, the less relevant your own doubts were becoming.
You couldn’t think of anything else but him.
“I really want to kiss you,” you whispered instead of answering, and his face broke into a wide, joyous grin. “Can I–?”
The Mandalorian didn’t even wait for you to finish – the second those words left your mouth, he surged forward and pressed his lips to yours forcefully, eliciting a surprised sound out of you, which soon turned into a needy whimper. You didn’t give him a chance to back away and instantly tangled your fingers into his hair, moving clumsily to be closer to him.
But when you attempted to climb onto his lap, your breast plates collided with a metallic clank, forcing the pair of you to put some space between you. Din huffed with frustration, while you laughed and cupped his face in your hands.
“You’re quite impatient for a bounty hunter,” you accused him playfully, nudging your nose with his. You took a deep, calming breath, wanting to surround yourself with the smell of him completely, but your riduur didn’t let you indulge for long.
He moved quickly and, without a warning, kissed you briefly again – and then one more time. It was more like a light peck, and you longed to feel his tongue inside your mouth once more, but at the same time relished in every sensation that his lips brought. Every touch he gave you was something infinitely precious.
“I’ve waited longer than you,” he murmured. His hands were already moving, taking off the beskar on his forearms and shoulders, reaching where he could without removing you from his lap just yet. “You have no idea what you’re doing to me, cyar’ika.”
You smiled widely and looked up from his deft fingers to throw another teasing comment, but in one second you lost your train of thoughts.
Because Din was blushing.
The feared Mandalorian’s face – a face you were finally allowed to see whenever you desired – was sprinkled with redness across his cheeks and ears. And you were the cause of that.
The thought of it almost caused your eyes to water.
“What are you looking at, mesh’la?”
Your eyes found him again and you smiled brightly, causing Din’s heart to skip a couple of beats.
You took his stubbly chin in-between your fingers and brought his lips closer, planting a soft kiss there that had the Mandalorian melting. He covered your hand with his, feeling the band on your finger under his own.
disclaimer: this takes place post-season 3 so if you haven't watched yet there will be spoilers!
warnings: slight mentions of violence, nightmares, mentions of loss that only happens in nightmares, angst, din is insanely vulnerable in this, lots and looots of fluff, slight mentions of smut but no thorough descriptions. 18+. minors dni.
word count: 3.4k
synopsis: Din can't seem to shake the continuous nightmares he has, and he seeks solace from you to ease the pain.
divider by the lovely @saradika
It was a beautiful, sunny day on Nevarro. You watched after Grogu as he levitated frogs from the pond out front, babbling away in something far off from Basic.
You smiled down at the little green creature, knees tucked to your chest as your chin rested on top of the arms wrapped around the tops of your knees. You yawned softly, not having gotten much sleep the previous night.
Din kept having nightmares every single night. He would never tell you what they were about, but you know they scared the living life out of him with how pale his usually tan face would be in the moonlit bedroom you two shared.
He'd wrap his arms around your center a little tighter while nuzzling his face into your neck as you held him, raking your hands through his damp brown curls on his head. Your heart ached knowing he was suffering from these continuously awful nightmares, and all you could really do for him was be there to comfort him—or let him bury himself in you until he even forgot his own damn name.
While you loved being intimate with him like that, the reasoning behind it made you want to cry for him. Not in any way that says 'Din, you're hurting me', no—crying for him because whatever these terrors were about seemingly shook him to his very core, to the point where he'd go most of the day without even talking.
Even his body language was different. He was more jumpy, more rigid, and his affections for you during the day seemed to come to a slow halt. This was a complete one-eighty of his usual suave, cool and possessive-over-you demeanor.
You wanted to talk to him about this so badly, but you didn't want to upset him or trigger something in him that could cause rash behaviors. So, you just stayed quiet about it as you lost sleep over your lover's silent troubles.
Din's tall frame blocked half of the sun that was shining brilliantly on your back, and your head tipped up to see your Mandalorian in shining armor. He held a cup of some hot liquid in his gloved hand, to which he stretched his arm out so you could take it.
The blissful smell of caf filled your nose, and you hummed in content as you took the cup from his hands.
“Thank you.” You offer Din a small, sweet smile before turning your head to Grogu again before taking a cautious sip of the hot liquid.
Din maneuvered his large body to sit down next to you. He crossed his legs so his right knee was touching your left. You took note of the subtle touch. It was something that he hadn't done in awhile during the day, so you savored it silently.
You both watched as Grogu was waddling around the pond, playing like a child really should've all along. Greef Karga offering this house to Din once he got back from his mission with the other Mandalorians to defeat Moff Gideon was a nice surprise. Karga had a soft spot for Din and Grogu, and over time, you as well.
He was more than happy to give you three a home to where you could settle in peace and actually live a normal life. At peace you were—well, at least you and Grogu. Din was trying so hard to live in normalcy; it was something that he craved desperately. He was trying so hard to adjust to this new life of his. He just didn't know how.
“I was thinking,” Din started, his voice quieter than usual. “We could go to town today to pick out some fresh fruits and meats for the next couple of weeks.”
This clearly took you aback. Din didn’t like going into town often. He wasn’t much of a talker to begin with, and he liked his little bubble with his clan of three—far away from anyone else.
But, him offering this to you was good. Shocking, but a pleasant surprise nonetheless.
“I’d love to. Let me get changed and we can go.” The glee in your voice was evident, and it warmed Din’s heart. You kissed his visor softly before dusting off your legs and turning to head into the house.
Unbeknownst to you, the Mandalorian was also extremely exhausted. He would try to avoid sleep at this point because he was terrified of the same nightmare happening once again. He thinks going into town will be a good distraction not only for you, but for him as well. He knows how much you like to look at the different stands at the market, taking your time to pick out the perfect fruits and meats for everyone.
You appeared by his side again, wearing a pretty brown dress that was floor length with a thin cream scarf wrapped around your shoulders.
“Mesh’la.” Din commented, wrapping his hand around your calf under your dress as he rested his helmet to your abdomen.
“Such a sweet talker.” You teased, resting your hand on the back of his helmet.
“Only for you, cyar’ika.” He murmured, standing up so he was now towering over you once again. You’d brought Grogu’s pod out so you could have him follow you both effortlessly without having to worry about losing him. The little booger got distracted quite easily.
You picked Grogu up and set him in his pod, not without a few whiny protests from him, but he settled in quickly once he realized you were all going somewhere.
The walk into town didn’t take too long. Forty-five minutes at most. It was a bustling scene today, with vendors around every corner and townsfolk littering the paths. This was probably the busiest you’ve ever seen it.
Din put his hand on your lower back to guide you through the crowd. You felt his thumb rub soft circles into your back, whether it be reassurance for him or yourself, you were unsure. But you loved when he touched you like that in public. It made it known you weren’t to be messed with—not that the citizens of Nevarro had ever been rude or unpleasant toward you.
You spotted your favorite fruit vendor and made a beeline for her stand. She greeted you kindly as you picked out plenty of fresh, ripe arrays of the delicious fruit.
Din appeared at your side and the vendor smiled kindly up at your shiny partner. He leaned down to you, leveling his helmet with your ear.
“Here’s some credits for the food. I’ll be back in an hour.” He whispered, caressing your arm.
“Where are you going?” Your brows furrowed as you slipped the credits into the bag you had slung over your shoulder.
“I need to run a quick errand. I’ll be back. Meet me in the towns square when you’re done.” He murmured, and cradled your cheek with his palm ever so gently. You turned your head slightly to kiss his leather-bound palm, nodding.
“Okay.”
“You be good to her, okay Grogu?” Din looks down at his green bug-eyed son, causing him to tilt his head and coo. You giggle softly and watch Din as he nods at you before turning on his heel, heading in the direction of Karga’s quarters.
“Looks like it’s just you n’ me, kiddo.” You grin, and he returns the gesture as you pet his head gently.
For the next hour, you’re gathering all of the food supplies you think you three will need. You make a point to grab Din’s favorite meat, which luckily happened to be the same as Grogu’s. They were both fairly easy to shop for, especially since Grogu wasn’t a picky eater.
Just as you were about to leave, you spotted a vendor who sold herbs and spices. You made your way to the table and looked for ingredients to make a soothing tea that should help Din with his nightmares. You remember your good old ugnaught friend Kuiil (may he rest in peace), who was one of the wisest you’ve ever known, teach you how to make this specific tea to calm you from your anxieties and nightmares you used to have.
After he taught you to make it, you made it often, so you luckily never forgot how to brew it up. You’d hoped this would work for Din because Maker, it seems as if these nightmares wouldn’t cease anytime soon.
You thanked the vendor as you gave him credits for the few herbs you bought, finally making your way to the towns square where Din said he’d meet you. Sure enough, your beloved in shining armor was leaning against a building with his arms crossed, seemingly looking around with nonchalance. He spotted you and his son rather quickly, pushing himself off the building before making his way to you.
“Hi, handsome.” You greet him, and he thanked Maker he was wearing his helmet because he was blushing like a fool underneath it. He still could never get used to your kind compliments toward him.
“Cyar’ika.” He nods down at you, offering you his arm to loop yours through. He grabbed a couple of bags from you before you three began your journey back to your humble abode.
-
It was sunset by the time you three got back to your home, and Din quickly helped you stow away everything you got from the market. He saw the herbs you’d purchased and was going to ask you about them, but he decided against it as you were quite the avid tea drinker.
Grogu was well under a deep slumber for the night, as he’d had a long day playing and eating his favorite foods. You made a simple stew for dinner and brewed the tea on the side, and since Grogu was happily tucked away in his bedroom, it was just you and Din for the rest of the night.
He’d already stripped off all of his armor, including his helmet, so it left him only in his flight suit. It was nice to see him in his rarest form—no armor, no helmet, just a beautiful, loving man inside and out to be in the company of. Din. Your Din.
The only thing that genuinely worried you, though, was the immediately noticeable dark circles under his beautiful brown eyes. He was exhausted. You could tell.
You were determined to make him drink that tea tonight in hopes of it working its metaphorical magic on him.
Din was staring at you from across the table as you both had finished the hearty stew, and your gaze snapped to his once your thoughts were brushed to the back of your mind.
“What?” You huff playfully, quirking an eyebrow at him.
“I have something for you.” He says, reaching into a pocket of his flight suit. You sat there patiently as whatever it was was now clutched in his large hand, as his free one reached for both of your hands across the table.
“Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum, cyar’ika. I want to give this to you as a promise. A promise that I’ll always love you, protect you, and support you throughout all of our endeavors in this life. You are the only one for me. You complete me; you complete this clan of three. I’d be nothing without you or my son by my side.” Din is quiet but sincerely heartfelt, making your heart squeeze in absolute adoration.
He grabbed your other hand and unveiled what was in his palm. It was a bracelet. He clasped it onto your wrist, the dainty but shiny metal heavy. You turned it over to see the charm, and tears sprung to your eyes. It was a simple, tiny mudhorn made out of the same silver material that the bracelet was made out of.
Then it dawned on you—the bracelet was made out of beskar. The same shiny beskar Din’s armor was made out of.
“Din,” you whispered, tears threatening to spill from your eyes. “It–It’s so beautiful. Thank you.” You cried, and the soft look in his eyes was enough to make you want to melt into a full-on sob.
“I love you.” You sniffed, admiring the beautiful bracelet that sat perfectly around your wrist.
“I love you more.”
And that was the last of the words exchanged between you both before he carried you off to your shared bed, making the sweetest love he knew how to you.
-
It had only been a few hours after you both had exhausted yourselves from your passionate love making, quickly dwindling down to a much needed slumber. It was peaceful—Din’s soft breathing on your chest as he lay his head on you, arms wrapped around your torso, and your head rested on top of his soft mane of curls. The breeze was cool enough to keep you both at a comfortable temperature. It was peaceful. Until it wasn’t.
Din popped up with a sharp gasp, gripping your arm so tightly in an unconscious state that it made you immediately jolt awake. He was squeezing your arm unbearably hard, making you cry out in pain as his grip only seemed to be getting tighter.
“Din, Din! Wake up!” You shook him violently, trying to pry his hand from your arm that you’re sure was already bruised terribly. When he kept thrashing around and crying out, you had to think fast. You maneuvered your body so you swung your legs over him so you straddled him. You took both of his shoulders in your hands, squeezing as hard as you could and shaking him as rough as you could muster up.
“Wake up!” The ring of your own plea shocked you as it sounded loud but broken, cracking as the tears spilled from your eyes at the throbbing pain in your arm.
His eyes finally snapped open, chest heaving uncontrollably as his pupils adjusted to the darkness of the room, looking up at you. His gaze moved to the hand wrapped around your arm, and he immediately let go.
Tears were in his eyes as he sobbed, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you down to him.
“Cy-cyar’ika, I’m s-so sorr-y.” He cried, and you tried to shush him gently.
“Din, breathe, it’s okay. You’re safe.” You wept, cradling the back of his head with your hands.
“You’re here.” He choked out, not letting up on your body. Confusion took over you at his words, and you lifted yourself up enough so you could look him in the eyes.
“Din, honey, what were you dreaming about?” Both of your hands moved to cradle his face, and he immediately melted into your touch.
“It’s Moff Gideon. I keep–” He paused, swallowing hard as if he kept speaking he’d quite literally die from lack of oxygen. It took him a minute to compose himself as best as he could before he continued. “These nightmares that I have. They’re always of Moff Gideon capturing you and Grogu and I can’t find either of you. Bo-Katan tries to help me but it’s no use. In this one–,” Din tries to catch his breath, but a heartbreaking sob escapes him instead. “He k-killed you right in front of me.”
Your breathing stopped as you stilled, your brows threading together. Now you understood. You don’t even know how you’d cope with having nightmares like that, especially one so severe seeing Din being taken away from you with nothing you could do about it.
“Oh, Din,” You leaned down, sorrow in your eyes before you kissed him gently. You pulled apart from him slightly, thumbs caressing his cheekbones. “I’m right here. I promise.” You sit up again and dangle your newly prized possession—the bracelet he gifted you—in front of him and pointed at it.
“You see this? You’ll always have me. I’m yours. I’m not going anywhere. I’m here, ner cyare, I’m never going to leave you. Not in real life, not in your dreams. I’m safe. Grogu’s safe. You’ve got us for eternity.” You rest your forehead against his as you lean down again, and as his sobs subside, you two hold each other for awhile before he starts to kiss your neck very softly.
“How badly did I hurt your arm?” He whispers, hating himself for unconsciously laying his hands on you in a hurtful way. Hurting you is the last thing in the whole universe he’d ever want to do.
“Not that bad.” You lied, feeling the unbearable throbbing pain as you spoke.
“Cyar’ika, please don’t lie to me.” He cups your face in his warm palms, eyes searching yours. You give him a small smile and sigh, knowing he sees right through you.
“It’s going to leave a dark bruise.” You admit, and his lips tremble in pure sadness.
“Maker, I’m so sorry. I never meant–”
“Sh sh, I know. I know,” You shushed him, kissing his forehead. You let him hold you a little longer before you began to move off of him.
“Where are you going?” Your heart broke at the tone of his voice, but you slipped on your nightgown over your naked body before offering him your hand on your uninjured arm.
“C’mon, I want you to drink something to help you. With the nightmares and lack of sleep.” He took your hand and slipped his underwear back on before you led him into the kitchen. The moonlight was bright enough throughout the house that you didn’t need any lights on, which set a calm ambience.
You poured Din the premade tea you brewed hours before, handing him a cup. He looked at you then looked down at it, cautiously lifting the cup to his lips as he sipped the lukewarm liquid carefully. You both sat in silence as he drank the rest of the delightfully surprising semi-sweet liquid.
“Let me look at your arm.” He says as he lifts you up on the counter, making you eye-level with him. He takes your arm softly and skates his fingertips ever so lightly over the already purpling bruise, making you suck in a breath and flinch. Even the lightest touch hurt. He gave you a look of apology before kissing your shoulder, resting his head in the crook of your neck.
You tangled your fingers in his soft hair, kissing the side of his head in comfort. You’d never seen Din so defeated. He was a strong man who’s armor made him nearly invincible, but underneath all of it, he was a beautiful man with a beautiful heart who had the strongest love for his tiny family. He would tear the whole galaxy apart to find you and Grogu, and he’d easily take a blaster shot if it meant you two got to survive. You two were everything to him, and although he sometimes had a hard time expressing his feelings, you knew very clearly that he loved you both so very much.
“Let me give you a bacta shot. For your arm.” His eyes meet yours once more, and you’d usually never agree, but the pain in your arm was like nothing you’d ever felt before. You almost felt sorry for the poor laiserbrain criminals Din had killed just by choking them to death with his iron-like grip.
You nod your head wordlessly, hand dropping from his hair as he turned on his heel after telling you to ‘stay right there, he’ll be right back.’ He was back in less than a minute with a pad of alcohol and the bacta shot. He wiped down the area above the bruise on your arm, administering the shot in such a hasty manner that you barely even felt it.
He patched up the little poke on your arm, helping you off the counter. Sleep suddenly overcame you both like a wave crashing to a shore. You threaded your fingers through his and pulled him back to the bedroom, clambering into bed. He followed suit, pulling you in carefully as your injured arm rested on his chest. The strong, steady beat of his heart had you nearly unconscious in less than a couple of minutes at most.
That night, Din had finally slept the most tranquilly he ever has in his life—free of night terrors, wrapped around the one he loved, and finally at peace knowing his clan of three was truly safe in this house they’d all made a home.
Summary: You are the deceased-anchor-being-Logan's lover, having found yourself with Laura in the void, you navigate meeting the variant of the love of your life. Sweet dick kicking angst with gratuitous smut, cause we all know Logan eats pussy like a CHAMP. 😤
5.8k words - I am in the process of writing the follow up to the Honda Odyssey, but first I had to get this one out there. This is self indulgence at its finest, but it had be to done. 7-years ago, the movie Logan broke something within me that has finally been fixed! 🤠💕
Warning: Explicit - smut. canon death, depression, angst, spoilers for Logan / Wolverine and deadpool, cunnilingus, unprotected p in v, creampie, all the good stuff. 18+
Graphics by my pal - @saradika-graphics 💕
The first time you see him again, the new him, the other him you mean. It’s in the cave accompanied by a man who talks far too much.
You recognise his voice in an instant when the mouth finally allows him to get a word in edgeways. His voice.
You’ve heard it nearly every night for the past seven years. It's a few octaves deeper than you remember and filled to the brim with vitriol but it's definitely his. The realisation that your memory has been warped by time is a blow to the gut but you continue towards the sound all the same.
When finally you round the corner Logan stands before you in all his glory. For a moment you are rendered utterly unable to form a single sentence as he leans against the wall, a bottle of bourbon in his palm and adorned in yellow and blue.
Your mind can't reconcile this figure as the man you buried. He has the same sneer, the same broad shoulders, he even has the same stance - but Logan, your Logan, would rather die than wear that garish yellow suit and admit to being the hero he always was.
His nose flares in what you believe to be recognition as he smells your presence, you allow your powers to retreat and reveal yourself. As your invisibility ebbs away Logan snarls in surprise as the talkative man in red gasps theatrically and begins jumping on the spot.
Your fears are proven well founded when your eyes connect with his across the room, instead of the love and recognition, you find only open hostility and rage.
Your heart had bulldozed all logic, you were in the fucking void, of course it was a variant.
This Logan looks younger; his hair not so grey, his face unscarred and his eyes not so tired.
This not-quite-Logan stares right back at you seemingly ill at ease with the stranger who is currently taking an inventory of his face.
“Logan, that's them. It’s X-23 and Y/N, the one’s I told you about.” You graze your palm along your daughter's back in support as you come to stand beside her.
“Her name is Laura.” It’s a knee jerk reaction; your correction. Your girl wasn’t the sum total of an experiment, she was her own person with her own thoughts and feelings, not a weapon to be utilised.
The Wolverine’s gaze darts between the two of you, it’d be comical if you didn’t feel like you were about to regurgitate your lunch. They land on Laura, and linger there for a few moments, before they return to you, it's as if he’s trying to find you in her features.
You barely hear the man you will later come to know fondly as Wade Wilson, question how you all ended up in the void.
“There was a knock at the door TVA sent me here, saying my world was dying … and I never even got the chance to fight for it.” Blade explains remorsefully.
“They sent us here because they knew we’d put up a fight.” You utter distractedly, finally breaking your staring contest with Logan as he takes a swig from the bottle he’s currently white knuckling.
“People like us don’t go quietly, TVA knows that so they took us out.” Elektra attests.
“The answer is yes, I’m in.” Wade declares.
“In what?” Blade questions bemused by the man in red.
“A team up, you me, me you, all of us together, lets get the fuck outta’ here.”
“Don’t listen to him, he’s a fucking liar!” Logan growls, furious at the other man.
“It was an educated wish!”
“HA!” The loathing behind it makes you pause, he was so angry.
The heat in his voice, the resentment, it burns you. You supposed even your Logan had his fair share of rage.
When he arrived at the mansion all those years ago, fresh faced and wild, you had adored him even then, though Logan was far too preoccupied with Jean to notice the torch you carried for him back then.
It was ironic that It had taken the utter annihilation of the X-Men to bring you together. Charles’ accident had left the two of you as sole survivors. Over the years in hiding your ability to mould force fields managed to keep the worst of the effects of Charles’ seizures at bay, but Charles Xavier was one of the most powerful telepaths to grace the earth and your powers had limits.
Those years were some of the darkest and yet the best of your life, you found yourself growing to love the man the world called The Wolverine.
You realise you’ve entirely tuned out Wade’s rousing speech and have spent the time analysing the man wearing your love’s face currently gargling bourbon though your name pulls you out of your reverie.
“Laura, Y/N? What’s it gonna’ be girlies?”
“Lets fucking go.” Laura agrees heartily, you simply nod still dazed.
“YES! LET’S FUCKING GO!” Wade shouts back fist pumping.
“You’re all fucking dead.”
Much later in the evening when the sun has finally set you seek him out. When you come across the father and daughter duo before the campfire you hold back, your skin slowly begins reflecting light, fading from vision as you call upon your powers to hide in the treeline.
They both needed this and it wasn’t something you were about to get in the way of. They talk for a little while, before they part ways, both a little teary. Laura nods your way despite being unable to see you as she heads back to the cave, her nose just as keen as her fathers.
So it shouldn’t surprise you a few moments later when you hear Logan's voice call across the clearing.
“You gonna’ stand there all night, Bub?” The man sounds utterly exhausted.
You say nothing in response, only dismissing your powers and revealing yourself as you advance. You take Laura’s seat at the fire, not quite having the courage to look at him just yet.
“You hear all that? Should mind your own damn business.” You remembered this Logan well, the one aching for a fight, desperate to shed his vulnerability and bloody his fists.
“I didn’t hear a thing, Logan.” Your voice is barely above a whisper, you haven’t had to gentle parent The Wolverine in a while but it’s like riding a bike. “I wanted to let the two of you talk, she needed it and I think maybe you did too.”
“What do you fuckin’ know.” He growls dismissively, swigging from his bottle of what now appears to be scotch. “You can skip the speech and go back up, I’m not looking for company.”
“I’m not here to tell you what to do, Logan.” Finally, you look away from the fire and find his eyes fixed on you, you swallow the lump in your throat before you speak. “I just wanted to see you.”
“See me?” He questions incredulously. “Well, keep the change, bub. Good night.”
Despite your smile at his words, you can’t help the tears that begin to cloud your eyes. Your mind and your heart have been locked in a constant battle since setting eyes on him. This man by all rights is Logan. The man you have mourned relentlessly and yet in every way that matters he isn’t.
“It’s like seeing a ghost.” Is the only explanation you can give him, his response is a stoic cheers with his bottle before he takes a deep gulp.
Finally either his curiosity or the alcohol gets the better of him as he questions. “You her Mother?”
“Yes and no.” His stare doesn’t leave your face as he waits for you to elaborate. “Her biological mother was a woman from Mexico City that the fuckers in the lab exploited, all we know is that she disappeared after giving birth. After … you … after everything that happened in North Dakota…” You trail off.
Your voice is suddenly thick and your words get stuck in your throat as you try to make them form. It's utterly embarrassing as you feel the traitor tears begin to form.
A bottle of Johnny Walker enters your field of vision from where you sit staring at your clasped hands in your lap. Startled, you glance up to find the Wolverine standing before you, casting an impossibly large shadow as he holds out the bottle.
You accept the offering from his gloved hand, your fingers grazing his in the transaction as you take a swig or two (or three) before passing it back. He looks thoughtful when he places his lips on the place where your own had just lingered, as he retakes his seat. With amber courage coursing your veins, you continue.
“She was all I had - if not for her, I-.” You wipe your nose, staring back into the fire. If it was a struggle to meet his eyes before, it was impossible for you now. “I just couldn’t see the point in being alive anymore if everything just slowly gets stripped away; the X-Men, then Charles and then Lo-”
You don’t know it, but you’re preaching to the fucking choir with your words. It was rare to find a soul, going through the exact same torture as yourself. Logan found himself softening to you, it was as involuntary as it was unwelcome, but he couldn’t help it as you described a battle so close to the one he fought daily.
“-she reminded me what I had to live for. Laura she is fierce and so fucking kind; she is everything I loved about him.” You cut your trauma dumping to a swift end as you remember yourself. “So no, to answer your question. I’m not her biological mother, but she’s my daughter in every way that counts.”
Silence reigns for a moment as neither one of you knows what to say to the other.
“You loved him?” Logan’s voice is deeper than before when he speaks the sentence. You raise your eyes from the fire to find his for the first time since you began monologuing. They’re filled with something you can’t quite name.
“I did.”
Logan seems to contemplate this, mulling it over as he continues drinking. Finally, he seems to reach some sort of conclusion. “You should get some sleep, big day for you tomorrow.”
“Can I stay here … with you for tonight?” The words slip out before you really even mean them to. Tomorrow you might be going to your death and the ghost of the love of your life is here alive and real, what do you really have to lose?
Logan does a double take, not quite expecting those to be the words that leave your lips. “I’m not him, Darlin’.”
“No, I suppose you’re not.” You sigh, “but could you please just hold me whilst I sleep, James?”
A huge part of you expects him to tell you to fuck off back to the cave and leave him to his booze fueled pity party. However, against all odds, he doesn’t do that.
Logan simply lifts the half full bottle of scotch to his lips and downs every last drop. He’s a little unsteady on his feet when finally he stands up to his full height and turns towards the blankets he’s laid out on the ground.
“Fuck it.” He growls and drops himself like a sack of potatoes onto the pile with little regard for his own body. You’ve certainly had nicer invitations into his bed but when he waves you over with a lazy gesture, you can’t help but hurry before he changes his mind.
Before you know it you’re tucked into Logan’s side. His gloved hand doesn’t quite seem to know where to go, more accustomed to brutality than tenderness these days as it hesitates for a moment suspended in the air. After some careful consideration he delicately places it on the dip in your waist securing you to him.
Logan’s breath is uneven, though he’s doing his best to seem unaffected by your closeness. It has been years since someone has touched him with such easy affection and the way your body curls around his own as if it was created to do just that is driving him crazy.
You are completely at ease with him, you trust him so entirely it almost breaks his fucking heart. Logan's stomach is heavy with something he can’t name, you fucking terrify him. Yet, he doesn’t move because you feel so fucking good as he holds you.
It's scary, you realise, how easy it would be to pretend this was your Logan as you melt into his embrace. He smells exactly the same as you bury your face in his neck, the roughness of his beard feels the same pressed against your forehead.
This Wolverine’s arms are a little fuller and his chest a little firmer, but he still holds you the same. You make a decision to not focus on such difficult philosophical concepts as variants and the morality of switching out your Wolverine. You decide to live in the moment, to just enjoy the furnace of his body keeping you warm and his arm encircling your waist protecting you from the world, it’s so easy to pretend that this was your Logan, so you do.
And you fall asleep quicker than you have in years.
It is still night when you awaken, it's not quite dawn but the fire has burned out to a low smoulder. You’re not sure what has awoken you from the best sleep you’ve had in a long while, that is until you feel the arms wrapped around you and the sleeping Wolverine holding you in a death grip against his chest, his half hard appendage digging into your hip.
Everything is still hazy; you’re floating in that sweet spot between waking and dreaming, you forget about North Dakota and, god forgive me, Laura.
You’re back in your bed at home and Logan is holding you.
There's no my logan, new logan, old logan.
He’s just Logan.
You bury yourself deeper in his neck.
It’s only for a moment though before it all comes flooding back and the agony overwhelms you like a blade to the gut.
Instantly tears flood your cheeks as you shake from your silent sobs.
“...Y/N?” Logan's voice is thick with confusion and sleep, his grip has loosened somewhat to allow you to breathe but he doesn’t release his hold on you. “What’s wrong darlin’?”
That affectionate name is the last nail in the coffin it fucking ends you.
All teary, and regrettably maybe a teensy bit snotty, you lean forward and kiss him. Kiss isn’t the right word but it’s your intention. Your lips touch one anothers before he’s pulling away and holding you back.
“Y/n… Darlin’ you don’t want this… I’m not-”
“But you are Logan. You’re him just as much as he’s you.” Your hands rise to his jaw, running your finger along its familiar sharp edge. “You’re Logan.”
“Y/N… I’d be taking advantage…” His voice is firm yet gruff as he tries to inject reason into the conversation. As usual being the good guy he’s constantly telling everyone he’s not.
“I am so goddamn sick and tired of being sad, please Logan.” This time when you capture his lips, he doesn’t rear back. You’re not sure what’s going through his mind, but his self control seems to snap within him as he begins returning the kiss in earnest.
Logan’s tongue swipes along your bottom lip begging entry, entry you swiftly allow. You’re breathing heavily through your nose as he plunders the depths of your mouth, exploring your mouth with his quick tongue.
Deciding to make the next move you push yourself up, throwing a leg over him to straddle his lower stomach. He’s lifted the top half of his body to ensure he doesn’t lose your mouth, your teeth clash slightly with the movement and you can’t help a bubble of nervous laughter. He pays it little mind though as he swallows the noise, his hands coming to rest on your hips.
Instantly, you grind your hips downward on the growing bulge that lurks below. Logan lets out a deep groan at the friction and his hands on your hips raise to the bottom of your tee in response, his thick hands tugging at it requesting your permission.
Nodding, you pull back causing him to groan at the loss of your hot mouth on his. Though it's only for a moment as the second the tee is over your head, he’s back on you, only it's your bare neck he’s lashing with affection now.
Logan breathes in deep your scent mixing with the heady aroma of your arousal. He’s nipping and licking along the smooth skin, soothing his bites as quickly he makes them. It's the animal instinct within him, telling him to devour you entirely; make you his.
“Logan…” You gasp, your eyes are clenched shut in pleasure as he bucks his hips upwards into your jean covered centre.
Logan pulls back to take you in, writhing above him in the moonlight, you’re fucking beautiful, though the flash of familiar metal between your breasts catches his eye, unable to stop himself, he catches it in his fist.
Dog tags; his old dog tags.
‘LOGAN’ is etched into the aged metal and they’re warm to the touch from living beneath your shirt over your heart.
The realisation hits him like a freight train, not only was he loved by you, but for his other self to have given you these, he fucking loved you.
He’s not sure why it didn’t occur to him before, that the other him was as devoted to you as you were to him. He’s not entirely sure how to feel about it, but he twists his hands, careful not to snap the metal string, but using it to pull you close.
For the other dead Logan, the hero he’s heard so goddamn much about, he decides he’ll give you the treatment you deserve.
As if you weigh nothing at all he flips you onto your back, his hands dropping the dog tags and falling to the waistband of your jeans. His dexterous hands undo the button so quickly, that your trousers are peeled from your legs before you know it, leaving you in an unimpressive unmatching set of underwear beneath his roaming eyes. Though Logan couldn’t give a fuck as he groans at the sight of your body exposed to him.
Logan begins by kissing down your stomach before his hands linger on your black panties, he can't help but grin at the tiny barely there bow in the middle of them; you’re like a gift all wrapped up for him.
His eyes lift to meet your own as he begins sucking at the fabric that's keeping your pussy from him, it's already damp with your arousal and by the time he finishes, absolutely sodden with his saliva.
“Logan, please…” you whisper desperately as your hands find his ‘tufts’ for a lack of a better word. They were new, but you liked them, plus they now seemed pretty functional.
He takes only a moment to remove his gloves, before they return eagerly to your body. Those thick hands traverse the planes of your thighs, they’re quick in their passing as they make their way up to the waistband of your panties, he hooks them over his thumb and reveals your soaking core to his hungry eyes and he’s right back to wanting to fucking devour you, and boy, fucking does he.
Enthusiastic, would be the word, earth-shattering would be another - the word to describe how Logan eats pussy.
Logan without much preamble dives into your centre, his tongue slips into your hot wet heat, lingering for a moment on your clit, circling it reverently before he dips that talented tongue inside of you. His nose knocks against your clit several times, each more delicious than the last as he utterly devours your pussy. He moans, grinding his hips into the dirt and readjusts pulling you closer, his thick muscled arms locking under your thighs as you buck against his mouth.
You're a complete goner the second he slips a single long thick finger inside of you.
“Fuck, Lo, I’m gonna-”
“Come, baby... I got’ya.” He mumbles into your pussy. And fuck me, he does. He carries on lapping at you all the way through your orgasm, drawing it out of you like the pied fucking piper of pussy. It feels like you’ve been falling for hours by the time you finally come down, only Logan doesn’t allow you any reprieve before he’s back to lashing your clit with his quick tongue. Your hands find those faux ear tufts once more and he groans as you pull on them a little more sharply than you intend in your shock, in answer Two fingers bury themselves deep inside of you.
“One more.” He’s negotiating orgasms, but you have no qualms as he rubs his nose side to side, eskimo kissing your sensitive bud. His tongue and nose moving in pace with his fingers, currently fucking in and out of you.
It's when he scissors those thick long fingers inside of you, hitting that spongy spot within you that makes your back arch.
Your top half has left the ground, he grunts in annoyance, suspending your hips back to his mouth at the angle he likes. Those deep hazel eyes meet yours from between your thighs, crazed and animalistic, driven wild with arousal as he eats your pussy with gusto.
It's that image that thrusts you over the edge once more, your back hitting the ground as your body seizes, thrusting your hips against his mouth.
Without any preamble a third finger joins stretching you deliciously. The hand not currently fucking you, leaves your hip to caress your stomach stroking the flesh there, not quite able to reach your breast.
“Lo… fuck… yes… right… right fucking there.” You cry as he draws your second orgasm of the night out, only when you tug at his tuft due to overstimulation does he acquiesce and pull back, only of course, after cleaning up your gaping desperate hole.
He sucks his fingers clean as he sits back on his knees, his cock thick and tenting against the yellow bottoms of his suit. Your arousal has soaked through his beard making his chin slick, he wipes it with a single swipe with the back of hand though, it does very little for his sodden chin.
Tired of not touching him, you sit forward grabbing at his belt. It's a difficult contraption that confounds you, though Logan is far too wound up to find any humour from it.
He replaces your hands unbuckling the thing before finding the hem of his shirt and pulling it over his head.
There, finally in all his glory, he is exposed to you and you’ve never been a religious woman, but Mary mother of fucking christ, he is gorgeous. Logan’s chest is fucking… transcendant to behold, it's like he’s been sculpted by god herself, the light isn’t the best out of here, but you hope to god you don’t die tomorrow simply for wanting to take your time and lick each and every single one of those muscles on his stomach.
Its your turn to leap forward onto your knees and join his mouth with yours, he tastes distinctly of you and his chin is still sodden, but you couldn’t give less of a fuck, you love the fact your desire is still marking his skin.
Your hands trace the firm abs at your disposal, before dipping into his now open trousers and underwear to find him rock hard.
If his physique impressed you, you had a big storm coming, because his cock was a fucking resplendant beauty and it was plain to see from the swelling Logan really liked eating pussy.
Your fingers barely touched as you pumped him, once twice, spreading the copious amounts of precum along his shaft.
“Fuck.” He grunts into your mouth. You lean down, positioning yourself to take him in your mouth, though he stops you in your tracks grabbing your shoulder. “No sweetheart, I want your pussy.” You clench around nothing at his filthy words, this man will be the fucking death of you.
You reach behind you and free your tits from their confines, another moan leaves his throat as he pushes you backwards. On his hands and knees he’s deliberate with every move as kicks the bottoms of his suit off as he prowls towards you.
Finally, he’s in between your legs naked as the day he was born. His hands are on your breasts, exploring the new plains exposed to him, playing with your nipples alternating between sucking and twirling them between his fingers.
So lost in his skilled hands, you barely notice when one disappears to line himself up, it's a shock, the sudden intrusion, but not an unwelcome one as he thrusts himself forward and as deep as he can go.
You moan his name into his ear, doing your best to keep your volume down.
He has prepared you well, you’re so worked up that he slides home through your tight slit. The sheer size of him means it's a stretch that borders on uncomfortable, but the second his hand finds your clit you’re clenching around him and grinding forward, desperate for more. Unable to control himself, his claws extend, he grunts pulling you close and thrusting them down into the ground.
“Fuck, you’re tight.” He grunts into your neck, where he's busy lavishing the flesh once again with bites. Your neck is going to be black and blue tomorrow, but you can’t find it in you to give a single fuck.
The two of you are so fucking close his bare skin so deliciously hot against your own, but you want more, you need more.
Logan pulls his hips backwards, pulling out of you until only the tip remains before slamming home and spearing you wide open his cock. Your moans blend together as you lose yourself in each other's bodies.
Logan is worked up from eating your cunt, so it doesn’t take long for the sensation to hit him.
“Fuck, where do you want it?” He grunts into your neck, as his hand descends to rub quick circles on your clit. He pulls your ass up, making sure to hit the spot inside of you that makes your toes curl.
You know he’s teetering on the edge, desperate to make you cum before he does.
“Inside - come inside me, baby.” You whimper into his neck as he pounds into you reaching your deepest recesses with his thick cock, his hammering, it’s unforgiving with his enhanced strength but it pushes him deeper into spots you couldn’t have imagined. He groans at your words, sounding every bit the wounded animal he is. Your shared groans and the sound of his balls slapping against your ass as he takes you again, and again is all that can be heard in the clearing.
Finally as he joins your lips in a kiss, you come hard on his cock. Clenching around him as your body writhes uncontrollably.
Logan adjusts his hold on your thighs, now he uses your body, drawing out your pleasure but ultimately chasing his own. The pace is fast as he grunts and groans erotically into your neck, he fucking growls as his hips stutter against your own, and you know you should be more careful, but the thought of him cumming inside you has you gripping his cock like a vice once more. You give him a tight sheath to come in, and he pumps you fucking full of his cum and its a big fucking load. Logan thrusts a few more times, pushing his seed deep inside of you as he claims your mouth once more.
You run your hands through his hair as he lets his body fall against yours, he’s supporting his own weight, thank god, you don’t think you could handle his muscle, let alone the adamantium skeleton. He’s still sheathed inside you as the two of you revel in the closeness.
The silence stretches on for an amount of time you can’t quite quantify. The two of you take in your surroundings, listening to the quiet of the forest, until your breathing has finally calmed down.
Logan lifts himself up on one arm, and pushes your hair back from your face. You stare at him in the moonlight for a long moment, unable to help yourself as you trace his familiar features. His strong nose and the curve of his brow, your finger dances along his flesh.
Logan’s eyes close, so touch starved he basks in your affection.
“I-” Logan goes to speak, before you drop your finger on his lips.
“It’s okay. Whatever happens tomorrow, happens. I’m okay with it.” You smile at him, there's a chill to the air but you’ve got your Wolverine warming you up. “I just wanted one night to be about something other than death.”
He takes your hand from his lips and kisses along the back of it and up your wrist, though It's a slippery slope as he hardens inside of you again.
Logan manages to pull two more orgasms out of you before dawn.
When your time has run out, the two of you finally dress, not wanting to be found in a compromising position. Logan curls his body around yours and buries his face in your hair as he spoons you from behind.
Just when you’re just on the cusp of sleep, he finally speaks into the night. Logan opens up about his world tearfully, instantly you reach your hand down, finding his own thicker one resting on your belly and you intertwine your fingers with his. He tells you of the mutant hunting as you draw comforting circles on the back of his hand, it's not much, but it's more than he’s ever had whilst reliving his worst day. When he has finally bared his soul, the two of you fall back into silence.
After what has been an emotionally, not to mention physically taxing night the two of you finally fall asleep if only for a few more hours, two incredibly damaged souls offering one another comfort.
It’s later in the morning when you finally awake. The sun has risen that much is clear but you're slow to awaken from your comfortable position in Logan's arms, his warm strong body coiled against your back fighting off the worst of the early morning chill, his face still buried in your hair as he snores peacefully.
There’s a sensation niggling at you, you think it's what woke you up in the first place; you can’t shake the sensation of being watched.
Lazily you open your eyes, only for your heart to drop to your asshole when you find Wade Wilson about 10-inches from your face lying on his side, his head supported by his hand.
“Mornin’ sleepy head, have a good night?” You can hear the smile in his voice.
“AGH!” Unable to stop both your cry of fear and your fight or flight response in progress, you throw yourself backwards, your powers activating of their own accord, and slamming your body into Logan’s chest. He startles awake, with the telltale ‘snikt’ of his claws extending as he orientates himself, his arm coming out to block you from the threat, despite not being able to see you.
After your brain catches up, you call your power back, but Logan doesn’t do the same, keeping his claws out seemingly ready to slice up his not-so-best friend.
“Get the fuck outta’ here, Wade.” Logan growls harshly at the other man, his voice is filled to the brim with hatred.
“Hmph - this is what I get for acting altruistically. I thought a good stress relieving bone in the woods with your cherie amour would really sort out that bee in your bonnet, but you sir are just a very unpleasant man and I’m worried that-”
“WADE.” This time Logan’s voice is a threat as he shouts at the man. You place a hand on his muscled arm to steady him. Though he may have stopped your heart with his antics, Wade isn’t doing anything particularly outrageous. Logan shakes your hand from his arm and allows his claws to retract as he stands.
“Thanks for jumping to my defence there, Y/N. Great to meetcha bt-dubs, huge fan.” You’re disoriented from the wakeup call but you shake the hand he offers you. Honestly, you’re still trying to process the head-fuckery of the past day, so you don’t have a quick response for him, though the mouth doesn’t seem to mind as he continues. “That mean lil’ lady is asking for ya’. Thought I’d come and check you and big yellow weren’t still bumpin’ uglies. Didn’t want her to see you and Papa going to town on each other's fun parts.”
“Uh - Thanks… Wade?”
“That’s me.” He theatrically begins bestowing multiple kisses on the back of your hand he still had in his grasp, which you retract gently. “Oh, and we’re done.”
Pushing yourself up, you go to stand though Logan offers you his newly gloved palm. You lock your fingers around his and the two of you stand together, inches apart and your fingers still intertwined, neither quite sure what to say to the other. Wade’s ‘awh’ over your shoulder shatters the moment and he drops your hand instantaneously.
After a beat or two Logan leans forward, placing a single solitary kiss on your forehead. “See ya’ around, bub.”
“Where’s my smooch, Logie-bear?”
“Go fuck yourself, Wade.” He calls as he walks around, Logan doesn’t look back as he heads off into the forest.
You still had faith he’d turn up for the fight, Logan always turned up when it counted and you knew this time would be no different.
“Hate to see him leave, but love to watch him go.” Wade sighs linking his arm with yours.
“Mmh, You can say that again.” You agree with the clown watching Logan’s ass as he walks away, you swear you see his step falter thanks to his impeccable hearing, but he doesn’t turn back.
The two of you turn and you begin walking back to the cave arm in arm with the strange man to prepare for the assault on Cassandra’s lair when Wade finally asks the question you know he’s been dying to ask since meeting you “So, Y/N just between us girls… how big is it?”
LOGAN TENDER HAIR TUCK SUPREMACY RISE. I'll use it in every fic, don't think I won't.
Summary: Reader is best friends with Johnnie and is avoiding telling him her feelings, but it's Tara's 1mil celebration party and she seems to be having some newfound confidence.
WC: 2.3k
Warnings: Swearing, kissing, slightly suggestive, drinking, use of y/n (i tried to avoid i’m sorry)
A/N: Hey guys, this is my first time writing for Johnnie and tbh I'm really proud of it! It took me a few days to finish and I really hope you guys like it. As always requests are open if you wanna see more of this type of stuff. Love y'all sm!! ♡⋆˙
You were at your house getting ready for your roommate Tara's party. She was throwing a party to celebrate reaching 1 million on her Youtube channel, and almost everyone you knew was attending.
Reaching 1 million was an amazing milestone for her and you were so incredibly proud. You were also a content creator with a solid following, but nothing close to what she had accomplished.
You were finished with your hair and makeup and now just had to decide what to wear. You were torn between a silky black slip, or a sparkly gold mini dress.
"Tara come in here I can't decide what to wear!" You shouted down the hall.
Tara comes rushing out of her room, always prepared to give the best fashion advice. She was already dressed but her makeup was noticeably incomplete, only sporting her signature winged eyeliner on one eye.
"Okay, show me the options." Tara exclaimed, clearly filled with excitement.
You went into your closet and emerged holding the two dresses.
"I feel like the black fits better, but it's kinda basic."
Tara looks between the two and smirks.
"Well which one do you think Johnnie would like better?"
Your jaw fell open, clearly embarrassed by her words.
Johnnie was one of your best friends, and Tara's too. You two spent an awful lot of time together, especially recently since you had begun filming together much more frequently. You will admit, you two had chemistry, and your friends and fans alike picked up on it.
You couldn't deny the not so little crush you had on him, but no way you were ever gonna admit that. It took you forever to admit it to even Tara, you would be mortified if Johnnie ever found out. Although that didn't stop Tara from pressuring you almost every day to confess. It was according to her "obvious he felt the same", but you refused to take the risk and find out.
"What! I'm just being real." Tara said, eyeing your nervous expression.
You shook your head, giving her an annoyed glance.
"I say gold. We can be like opposites cause I'm wearing silver." Tara pointed to her dress.
You smiled, throwing the black dress to the side.
"See I can always count on you to make my decisions for me."
Tara laughed and sped out of the room to finish her makeup.
You proceeded to finish getting dressed, and while you did you thought about what Tara had said.
Maybe it was time for you to finally stop avoiding things and fess up, at least you would know the truth. The only drawback was losing your best friend. If Johnnie didn't feel the same then that would surely make your friendship awkward.
Curiosity was beginning to get the better of you, and maybe tonight would be the night you would find out the truth.
You could've said speak of the devil, because right at that moment Tara popped her head into your room to tell you that Jake and Johnnie had arrived.
"I hope you're ready, Jake said they brought a ton of stuff and need help carrying it all inside." Tara said with a sigh.
Her makeup was now complete, eyeliner perfectly symmetrical on both sides and glitter eye shadow completing the look.
"Yeah hold up I'm coming." You replied, jumping up from your seat and sliding your feet into your black platforms.
As you headed out the door and towards the car, you couldn't help but contain your excitement to see Johnnie. This recent rush of confidence has made you more eager and energetic than normal.
When you reached the car the first thing you saw was Jake piling boxes into his arms, and Johnnie very loudly complaining about how much shit he brought.
"What the hell...how much did you guys bring?" Tara asked, raising her eyebrows.
"Uhhhh, lots of food, and lots of alcohol," Jake began.
"Let's just say I'm gonna get fucked up tonight."
Tara rolled her eyes, and reached into the trunk to grab more boxes.
You rounded the corner and crept up behind Johnnie.
"Boo!" You said, causing him to jump and drop the box he was currently holding.
"Y/N!" Johnnie exclaimed the moment he saw you, completely forgetting about the box he had dropped.
"Johnnie, that could've been breakable." Jake huffed half jokingly.
Johnnie replied by flipping him off as he ran in to give you a hug. He wrapped his arms around you tightly as if he hadn't seen you in forever, when in reality it had only been about two days.
You breathed in the musky scent of his cologne as the hug lasted a bit longer than it should.
You broke apart and took a long look at your best friend. He was wearing a low cut black dress shirt that showed off several tattoos on his chest. He matched it with black jeans, a silver belt, and several chains hanging from his waist.
“You look pretty” Johnnie gave you a sheepish smile.
"Aww thank you!" Him complimenting you like this wasn't unusual for your friendship, but that didn't stop your heart from skipping every time.
Jake walked behind Johnnie slapping him on the back of the head as he did.
"What the fuck Jake." Johnnie snapped, rubbing the back of his head.
"You know what." Jake responded without hesitation, giving Johnnie a telling look.
You wondered what Jake could possibly mean by that, maybe there was something Johnnie wasn't telling you. Although it wasn't unlike the two of them to share an inside joke that was impossible for you to understand.
"Let's get back to work." You laughed pointing at the trunk.
Johnnie nodded, pushed his bangs out his eyes, and brushed your shoulder lightly while reaching into the trunk.
You, Johnnie, Jake, and Tara spent the next hour or two setting up for the party, the sun slowly disappearing as you came closer to being complete.
Just as the night arrived, so did many of your guests. People began pouring in in small, or large, groups. Tara waited at the door, greeting everyone upon arrival like the amazing host she was.
Unfortunately, without Tara, you could be pretty awkward at parties. You and Johnnie had that in common, which is why you found yourself hanging out in the corner with him.
Obviously you didn't mind, you loved hanging out with him after all. The two of you spent the early hours of the night attached at the hip, ignoring the busy sections of the party, and sipping on your drinks while making small talk with your friends.
You were on the way to refill your cup with water, fearing that you had had one too many when a clearly tipsy Tara grabbed your arm.
"Y/N! I've been looking for you all over! I need to get a clip of you to add in my video before I forget."
You happily obliged, excited that you were finally got to spend some time with your best friend.
She led you into the living room, a camera following the two of you.
"Come on, dance with me!" Tara said excitedly, throwing her hands up in the air.
You giggled, and joined her moving to the beat of the music. Tara only needed a few shots of the two of you for her video but she spent much longer dancing with you.
You hadn't realized how much time had passed until, a few more drinks and many songs later, your feet began to ache.
"Hey Tara, keep on having fun, I'm gonna go find Johnnie and then relax for a bit." Tara gave you a hug, just in case she didn't see you again that night, and then ran off to join a few of her friends.
It took you a few minutes of aimlessly searching to find Johnnie. When you did find him, you saw he was talking to Sam and Colby while sitting on your couch that had been pushed to the back of the living room.
You plopped down next to Johnnie, carelessly resting your pounding head on his shoulder.
"Hey look at who's back." Johnnie announced, looking over at you.
You smiled, nuzzling your nose into his neck. It must be all the alcohol mixed with the excitement giving you this newfound confidence.
You sat there for a moment, letting Johnnie finish his conversation.
While you waited you thought over the same situation from earlier, and suddenly the drawbacks to confessing your feelings didn't seem so bad.
Whether Johnnie felt the same or not he would always love you regardless, whether that love be platonic or romantic.
Sam and Colby walked off, marking the end of the conversation. Johnnie turned to you, and you picked your head up from its position on his shoulder.
"I think it would be best if we both got out of here." Johnnie got up, reaching his hands out to help you up.
You took his hands and allowed him to lead the both of you away from the chaos.
You followed Johnnie down the hall until he entered your room and shut the door behind the two of you.
You took a deep breath, it was nice to be in a calm space and away from the loud party. Although you could still hear the base pumping it was easier to ignore.
"This is much better." Johnnie collapsed onto your bed.
"Hmm, my room is a real creative way to get some alone time with me." You smirked sarcastically.
Johnnie's mouth fell open, his face turning red.
"Okay dirty minded." He retorted, fidgeting with his hands.
"As if you aren't" You snapped back playfully, plopping onto your bed.
Johnnie shoved you playfully, causing you to fall back into your pillows.
The pair of you exploded into a fit of laughter. The concerning amount of mixed drinks you had both had made the ordeal much more hilarious than it really was.
After several moments a silence fell over the two of you. You were laid back on your bed, Johnnie's body only inches from yours.
You may have been slightly drunk, but you were sober enough to remember your feelings.
You turned to face Johnnie, finding yourself face to face with his icy blue eyes.
Johnnie smiled at you, that signature, warm smile of his that you loved. The sincere, loving smile that he seemed to only ever use with you.
Johnnie reached out and brushed your messy hair out of your face.
"There, now I can see all of your pretty face."
Your heart stopped, suddenly all your nerves had returned. You were scared, scared of losing this, and of losing him.
You weren't going to let this stop you though. You had spent too long avoiding this, and today you would finally confess.
"Hey Johnnie,"
"Mhm"
"I have something important to you about." Your voice was shaky, and you were convinced he noticed.
You could see his eyes fill with concern, maybe you should have used less ominous wording.
"I've been wanting to tell you this for a long time, and PROMISE ME you won't make fun of me."
"Are you serious? After how long we've known each other what could I possibly make fun of you for?"
You turned away shyly, he did have a point.
"Okay, well this is different."
"Well then I have to know, spill it." Johnnie said as he nudged your shoulder.
You blushed, avoiding eye contact in order to hide how flustered you were.
"I love you Johnnie, not like a best friend, like in love." You spat out, still refusing to make eye contact. God you sounded like a stupid high school kid.
"Hey..." Johnnie whispered.
He cupped your cheek and forced you to look him in the eye. Goosebumps formed on your skin where his skin met yours.
"I'm in love with you too, and I have been for a long time.
Your heart felt like it was going to stop, especially since he was now so close his nose was brushing against yours.
You closed your eyes before taking the leap and closing the gap between the two of you. His lips were softer than you expected, and you hoped he didn't notice how dry yours were.
Johnnie pulled you closer to him, and you re-situated yourself on top of him.
You leaned down to kiss him again, but he stopped you abruptly.
"Shit!"
You looked at him concerned, wondering if you had done something wrong.
"I owe Jake money now!"
You began to laugh as your face landed in your hands.
"You two had a bet...about me?"
Johnnie giggled nervously, still underneath you.
"I'll explain later." He said, his eyes staring intently at your lips.
He pulled you down into another kiss, this one much more passionate than the last. You felt his hands run down your sides, grabbing longingly at your hips. You pushed your tongue into the roof of his mouth, causing him to grip your hair.
You let out a soft moan, which was followed by Johnnie flipping you over so that he could be on top.
Your lips not breaking apart once during the swift motion.
You continued to kiss him, your hands tugging at his shirt in an attempt to bring him even closer.
He began kissing your neck softly, as he reached behind you to fiddle with the zipper on your dress.
Just as things were heating up you heard the door swing open followed by an extremely loud voice.
"You better pay the fuck up bitch!!" Jake shouted cause the both of you to nearly jump out of your skin.
The two of you scrambled to sit up, adjusting your clothes as you did.
"What the fuck Jake!" You shouted, re-zipping your dress.
"Oh don't you start with me missy,"
"Tara come here I was right, look at them!"
You groaned, letting your head fall into Johnnie's chest.
"There, there." Johnnie patted your head sarcastically.
"Well, I hope you're okay with the whole world knowing." You say grumpily.
"Are you kidding, the whole world better know that I'm in love with you!"
You smiled, and kissed Johnnie on the cheek. If only you had done this sooner.
warnings no smut but it is a bit suggestive. no use of specific age/race/gender. no pronouns used. no use of y/n. lowercase intended. loosely proofread.
summary headcanons of the sweet, shy beginnings of you and johnnie's dating life.
requested by anon you can find the link here !!
wc 2.1k
masterlist | main page <3
new relationships are meant to be awkward, you're stepping into new vulnerable territory with someone that can change your outlook on life and affect you emotionally as well as physically, for better or for worse.
there are boundaries that haven't been made yet, and miscommunication on where you lie with physical affection. and although that might be awkward, the new beginnings and shy gestures only make the relationship stronger.
. . .
— PDA
pda isn't a regular occurrence between the two of you. every time you or him initiated affection with one another in public it made you both shy. you were just now stepping out of the "best friend" stage and into lovers so everything was new and took some getting used to.
you and johnnie were shopping together at target for a few baking necessities, you were having a contest against tara and jake to see who could make the best dessert.
as you were pushing the cart and looking on the shelves for items you thought you'd need, you became slightly startled at johnnie's sudden yelling. "babe! look, they have chucky cupcake toppers." he shouted excitedly running towards you from behind.
before you could turn your head in his direction you felt one of his hands rest on your lower back that was slightly exposed, his cold rings pressed into your warm skin making the contrast of temperatures distract you from whatever he had been telling you about.
"huh? oh, uhm, those are neat. d'you wanna get them?" you asked after processing his excitement. "hell yeah." he replied with a smile before throwing them into your cart, his hand remaining on your waist.
"have you found anything cool yet? i really wanna beat jake at this after he called me a shit baker." he murmured with a small furrow of his brows.
you nodded with a hum of confirmation as you both started to make your way into the next isle. your attempts to speak were futile as you could only focus on the way his thumb slowly caressed your skin. he did it with such ease as if it was second nature to him.
"good, tara and jake don't stand a chance against us." he hummed in triumph before pressing a small kiss against your temple. at this point you were starting to feel dizzy at the amount of affection you were receiving but you loved it at the same time. you don't know where this sudden burst of confidence and tenderness came from but you never wanted it to end.
"i really like you." you blurted out of nowhere with slightly widened eyes as if you had come to a sudden revelation.
johnnie couldn't help his widening smile as he replied without hesitation, "i like you too."
— SETTING BOUNDARIES
you don't know what had gotten into johnnie, but ever since you arrived at his house with one of your friends, jamie. he had been distant, almost as if he was avoiding you. it annoyed you to no end because you couldn't recall a single thing that you had done to evoke this reaction out of him.
you were able to find him alone long into the night and pulled him aside. he reluctantly followed you with a noticeable frown on his face.
"what's wrong?" you ask as you close his bedroom door behind you two. "nothing." he replied, shrugging his shoulders before reaching for the door handle. thankfully in that moment you were faster than he was and stopped him from grabbing a hold of the door knob.
"please, just tell me what i did." you murmured, your eyebrows furrowed in worry as you searched his eyes for any type of answer. he sucked in a breath before releasing it.
you patiently waited for him to speak, removing your hand from the knob which gave him the comfort that you trusted him.
"why didn't you call me to pick you up?" he asked lowly, his eyes trained on his hands that were fiddling with his rings. "hm? wha- baby, me and jamie were both coming over so i thought it would just make sense for us to carpool." you explained.
"yeah, but...i don't know. i'm a reliable boyfriend, right?" "of course you are. i just didn't want you to do extra work." "i'd do that extra work for you. i want to do it for you."
you smiled, you were endeared more than anything and all annoyance had left. "and you can. but in the future, if you're upset with me please, just talk to me. ignoring each other won't make our problems and insecurities go away." you suggested, wrapping your arms around his neck.
he hummed in agreement with a growing smile, all while wrapping his arms around your waist. "okay, i promise to communicate. and im sorry for making you worried."
"apology accepted."
— FIRST KISS
date nights with johnnie was one of your favorite things to do. you loved spending time with him so anything you two decided to do would be time well spent. this time around johnnie and you were in his house, having a night in together.
both of you were freshly showered with smooth, clear skin from your 3 hour long self-care time. you and johnnie found yourself in the living room together watching horror movies and playing board games.
there were loads of snacks and drinks surrounding the both of you along with a takeout box of food the both of you shared.
"ugh, you're such a cheater, johnnie." you groaned with a frown as you pulled 8 cards from the uno pile. he let out one of his giggles as he looked between his two cards that he had left. "or maybe you're just really bad." he replied, setting down another card before loudly shouting 'uno!'
you paused, a small mischievous smile started to grow on your face which made johnnie raise a questioning brow at you. before he could ask you had got up from your seat and tried to snatch his card, unfortunately he was too fast for you and cradled the card to his chest. "hey!" he shouted out, his laughs increasing as you continued trying to fight for his card.
"let me see your card!" you shouted through giggles as you climbed over him, reaching for his card. "no, you cheater!" he squeaked out as he continued to hold it from your grabby hands. even when johnnie tried his best to keep the card from you, you still were able to maneuver from his grip.
"thank you!" you triumphantly yelled out, but before you could celebrate any further johnnie had you pinned under him, hovering over you with squinted eyes and quivering lips as he tried to hide his smile.
"give me my card." he spoke quietly, his eyes trailing down to it clutched to your chest. you shook your head 'no', any and all words refusing to slip past your lips.
"is there anything i could do in exchange for my card back?" he asked in a whisper, his eyes trailing back and forth from your eye to your lips. unconsciously you bit your bottom lip, wanting the same thing as him. "maybe one thing." you softly said, both of you inching closer until you were sharing the same breath.
he stared into your eyes for a moment, a look of desperate need filtered behind his eyes. "is this okay?" he asked, touching the tip of his nose against yours. you could only hum in response before your lips collided. you truthfully can't remember who kissed who, but all you know is that you never wanted it to end.
— FIRST FIGHT
you can't really remember what led up to the intense moment, all you know is that you wanted it to end. you and johnnie had been at each others throat for over an hour now and you were starting to get tired. both of you tried to keep your voices calm and soft when addressing the other, but this time around something had gotten to both of you enough for you to yell and curse each other out.
you let out a pathetic sigh, letting your head fall into your hands. before you could stop yourself you felt the tears falling, your sobs being muffled by your hands. The room stilled in silence at the sound of your cries, Johnnie's rage completely sub-sided when he turned to face you. Seeing your curled up form on the edge of the bed made any sense of anger dissipate as he made his way towards you.
"god, i'm so sorry, baby." he murmured before sitting next to you, pulling your body into his arms. whatever you two were arguing about couldn't have been so serious to make you burst into tears. he slowly dragged both of your bodies further onto the bed before laying down and pulling your body onto his. he pulled one of your legs over his torso, one of his arms wrapped around your shoulder while his other hand rested on your lower thigh.
he pressed a small kiss to your forehead as your cries died down. "i'm sorry we fought." you whispered, nuzzling your head into his neck. "i am too...let's not fight like this again, alright?..i hate seeing you so upset, baby."
you slowly nodded before lifting your head up enough to make direct eye-contact with him. his blue eyes were clouded with tears that hadn't yet fallen. before he could release another breath you brought one of your hands up to his face, turning his head towards yours and connecting your lips. so much affection and remorse went into the kiss, promising to yourselves that in the future you'll be better, for each other.
— FIRST I LOVE YOU
a long night of drinking and hanging out with your friends was finally coming to an end. you wobbled into your apartment, johnnie not too far behind as he had one of his hands on your lower back, trying desperately to keep you steady after your countless stumbles and shaky balance.
not many words had been exchanged between the two of you as johnnie guided you to your bedroom. "wait right here, i'll be back soon, okay?" he demanded softly. his hand that rested on your check slowly slipped away as he made his way out of the bedroom and somewhere off into your apartment.
you slowly started to undress, removing your shoes first and sluggishly removing the rings and necklaces you had decided to wear. johnnie came back into the room with a glass of water, setting it on your nightstand before walking off into your bedroom, shuffling around and grabbing whatever he thought he'd need.
the house was serene and comfortable. you couldn't do much but watch johnnie in admiration as he took care of you. he removed your makeup and frequently took breaks to give you sips of water when he felt like you went too long without it. "don't ever get this drunk without me around, kay?" he quietly reprimanded as he slid your pajama pants on.
you only nodded, fighting off the sleep as best as you could as he pulled the blankets up to your chin. "are you staying?" you asked hopefully. he faltered in his steps when throwing your clothes into your laundry hamper. "if you want me to." "i always want you to."
you fought your sleep ruthlessly while johnnie got himself ready to join you. your eyelids grew heavier by the second and your entire body felt glued to the mattress. your eyes fluttered open at the sound of a gentle laugh. "you didn't have to wait for me." he said quietly while getting himself comfortable into the spot next to yours.
"yeah, but i wanted to."
johnnie only hummed in response as he got cozy under the heavy covers. "johnnie." you whispered, turning your body towards his fully. "yes, baby."
"i love you."
the room fell into complete silence as johnnie slowly shifted towards you. "what did you say?"
"i appreciate how much you do for me johnnie...and i love you. i-i promise im not drunk either, i've sobered up a lot actually. i just...i just realized how much you mean to me."
he yanked your body into his embrace, a small oomf falling from your lips at the impact of colliding with his chest. "i love you more. so much more than you could imagine." he breathed out, his voice slightly cracking in the process as he was filled with so much emotion. "i loved you yesterday, i love you tonight, tomorrow, and will continue to love you each day after that."
a/n: got a little carried away w/ this one ngl lol. hope you guys still enjoyed and thank you for requesting, i love writing for you guys <3 :)
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