THE MANDALORIAN CHAPTER 8: REDEMPTION

writing is hard but coming up with a cunty title and catchy summary will slay even god's strongest soldier

hii hii HEHEHEH this is so brain rot but i need a story where logan is a big time cuddler (i know he gives the best hug ever 😭) maybe he keeps that only to reader!!

ଓ IN HIS ARMS

pairing: logan howlett x reader

summary: logan is a big time cuddler, but he saves all his tender, comforting affection just for you.

word count: 1.3k

content: fluff, established relationship, implied sex, post-sex cuddles.

a/n: hiii, sorry it took me so long to write it 😭 I may have changed a little from what you asked, but I hope you like it <3

── english isn't my first language :)

Everyone around the mansion was well aware of Logan's grumpy reputation. He was the gruff one, all hard edges, and sharp looks, the not-friendly and indifferent expression to keep people not so close. To most, he's the Wolverine—reserved, intimidating, and always prefers little interaction. But of course, he had his exceptions, like you. You knew better.

Because behind closed doors, Logan was yours, and he’s the most touch-hungry man you've ever met. You know the man beneath the scowl who would hold you close until the rest of the world disappeared if he could. Deep down, he was the type who wouldn’t readily admit it, but he absolutely adored cuddling.

No one would believe it if you told them, but Logan is the best cuddler in the world. There’s something about the way he wraps his arms around you, how his broad chest and strong shoulders make you feel so small and completely safe. It’s like being surrounded by pure strength, and yet it’s soft, too—his touch careful, deliberate, filled with a tenderness that only you get to see. God this man knew how to hug.

Right now, his arms are wrapped around you as you settle against his chest, his warmth seeping into you like the coziest blanket. The room is quiet except for the soft hum of life outside and the sound of his steady breathing. Nights like this—peaceful, undisturbed—are your favorite.

You let out a contented sigh, your head resting against the solid strength of his chest. His heartbeat thumps steadily beneath your ear, soothing and grounding in a way only Logan can manage.

“You comfy, princess?” he murmurs, his voice low and rough, sending a pleasant shiver down your spine.

“Mm-hmm,” you hum softly, snuggling closer.

Logan’s hand drifts lazily up and down your back, tracing slow, soothing circles. He’s always touching you like this, his hands finding you almost instinctively, whether it’s to ground himself or to comfort you. Maybe it’s both.

“You’ve got the best hugs,” you murmur, your voice muffled against his chest.

Logan chuckles softly, the sound a deep, rumbling vibration against your cheek. “Yeah? Don’t tell anyone. Gotta keep my image intact.”

You laugh lightly, shifting to look up at him. His lips quirked in a rare smile, the kind only you ever see. Before you can say anything else, he leans down to press a kiss to your forehead, lingering there like he’s savoring the moment.

Logan doesn’t say it, but you know this side of him—the warmth, the tenderness, the way he holds you like you’re the most important thing in the world—is something he reserves only for you. Around the others, he’s all scowls and clipped words, but in private, he’s the kind of man who craves touch like it’s air.

He didn’t always show it, though. Logan wasn’t the kind of man to give away pieces of himself so easily. It took a while to get that part of him. You vividly remember the first time he hugged you like this, back when he still had walls up, back when you weren’t sure what you meant to him.

You’d been having a rough day—a hard mission that made you doubt yourself, leaving you shaken and overwhelmed. You tried to hide it from everyone, retreating to the quiet safety of your room. But Logan noticed. He always noticed.

Without a word, he appeared in your doorway, his expression softer than usual but still guarded.

“You okay?” he asked, voice low and gravelly.

At first, you nodded, trying to brush it off, but when he stepped closer and gently touched your arm, the dam broke. You let out a shaky breath, your eyes stinging, and before you could stop yourself, you leaned into him.

For a second, you thought he’d pull away—this was Logan, after all. But instead, his arms came around you, steady and sure, pulling you against him like it was the most natural thing in the world.

That was the first time you felt the magic of the Wolverine hug. His hold was strong but not overwhelming like he was shielding you from everything bad in the world. His hand ran soothingly up and down your back, his chin resting lightly on top of your head.

“It’s okay,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble in your ear. “I’ve got you.”

And he did. From that moment on, you realized that Logan wasn’t just a good hugger—he was the best. There was something about the way he held you like he could take all your worries and crush them with his strength. He didn’t need to say much; his arms said it all.

Now, it’s second nature. He doesn’t wait for an excuse to hold you—he pulls you into his lap while you’re reading, tangles himself around you when you’re in bed, and presses his face into your hair after a long day. His hands are always on you, whether it’s a comforting palm against your back, his fingers laced with yours, or his arm slung around your waist like he needs to keep you close. And you dare to say he loves it more than you.

After the sex, he’s especially clingy—not that you mind. Pulling you into his arms as if he’s afraid you’ll disappear, he will wrap himself around you completely. His lips leave lazy, soft, lingering open-mouthed kisses to your shoulder, hair, collarbone, cheek—anywhere he can reach. Each one feels like a promise, a reminder that you’re his. He let his hands roam lazily, tracing patterns on your skin like he’s memorizing every inch of you.

“You feel so damn good, princess” he’ll whisper, his voice rough but tender. And the way he holds you in those moments like he never wants to let go, makes you feel like you’re the center of his universe.

And the way he looks at you in those moments? It’s enough to make your heart stop. His usual sharp, guarded gaze softens, filled with a quiet devotion he doesn’t show to anyone else.

Around the others, he’s all grumbles and scowls, pretending he’s not the same man who just kissed you senselessly an hour ago. He keeps his distance—at least, as much as he can.

Even in public, though, there are cracks in his armor. His hand will brush yours under the table or he’ll rest his palm on your thigh. Sometimes, when he thinks no one’s paying attention, you’ll catch him watching you with an intensity that makes your heart race.

The others might tease him for being overprotective, for always keeping an eye on you, but they don’t see the real Logan. They don’t see how he softens when he holds you or how he presses his forehead against yours like you’re the thing that saved him.

“Love you,” he murmurs now, his lips brushing against your hair. His voice is quiet like he’s not ready to say it too loudly, but the words hit you like a warm rush all the same.

You tilt your head up to meet his gaze, those dark, stormy eyes soft in the dim light. “Love you too,” you whisper, brushing a kiss against his jaw before settling back into his arms.

Logan presses another kiss to the top of your head, his hand slipping under the blanket to pull you closer. He holds you like you’re his anchor, his steady presence in a chaotic world.

And as you drift off in his arms, surrounded by his warmth and strength, the rest of the world feels small and far away—because with Logan, you’re home.

𖤐 reblogs and feedback are appreciated! requests are also welcome, ty!

Star wars men you will always be famous, i’m in love with them.

feels like fake news

➤All the places that Matt Murdock loves to fuck you-

A/n: Matt is such a cutie

Matt Murdock isn’t a man who allows himself many indulgences. His life is filled with shadows, sacrifice, and the weight of the city pressing down on him. But when it comes to you—the quiet, kind-hearted nurse who’s softer than anyone in his world should be—he finds himself craving every part of you.

And while you turn warm so easily,squeaking under his touch, Matt learns quickly that once he gets you alone, there’s a fire beneath that shyness.

A fire only he gets to stoke.

1. His Apartment – Against the Bookshelf

✨:

It started innocently enough.

You had come over to check on his injuries—again. Despite knowing he heals fast, you had been adamant about making sure he wasn’t reckless.

Matt had been sitting on the edge of his couch, listening to your heartbeat flutter as you pressed gentle fingers to his ribs.

“You don’t have to—”

“Shut up and let me do this, Murdock,” you had mumbled, heart rate spiking

He smirked.

And then, something shifted.

Maybe it was the way your fingers lingered too long against his skin.

Maybe it was the way his own hands itched to touch you, to map out every inch of the woman who had become his quiet salvation.

Either way, the next thing you knew—Matt had pinned you against the bookshelf, lips devouring yours.

You had gasped, hands gripping his shoulders, and the sound had destroyed him.

He had lifted you easily—one hand beneath your thigh, the other bracing against the shelf behind you. The books dug into your back, but you didn’t care. Not when Matt was kissing you like that.

Desperate. Rough.

Like he had been starving for you.

And by the time you were both done, you were breathless, shaken, and laughing softly when he finally let you back down on shaky legs.

You two didn’t even bother fixing the books that had fallen to the floor.

2. Your Bedroom – With the Windows Open

✨:

Your apartment was small but warm—much like you.

And Matt had fallen in love with it.

Not just because it smelled like vanilla and the faintest hint of antiseptic, or because you had soft blankets everywhere (which he would never admit he loved).

No.

He loved it because it was yours.

And when he was in your bed, tangled in sheets that smelled like you, listening to you whisper his name, he felt like he could breathe.

One night, with the windows cracked open, letting the cool night air in, he had taken his time with you.

Letting his hands trace every inch of you soft, warm skin.Letting his mouth memorize every spot that made you whimper.

Letting you fall apart beneath him, whispering his name like a prayer.

And when you came apart on his fingers, your voice barely above a breath—the city outside had disappeared.

Because in that moment, it was just you and him.

3. His Office – On His Desk

✨:

It was a mistake.

You both knew it the second you walked in, wearing that damn dress.

Foggy had already gone home for the night. Karen had left too. It was just you both—you had stopped by to drop off something he had forgotten at your place.

But the second he heard your heartbeat spike—the second he smelled the faint scent of your shampoo, your perfume, the lingering traces of something sweet on your lips and the rustle of the fabric of your dress.

He had lost all control.

You had barely set down the folder before Matt had you pressed against his desk, your hands gripping his tie as you gasped into his mouth.

“Matt—”

“Tell me to stop,” he had murmured against your skin, trailing kisses down your neck, listening to the way your pulse fluttered.

You hadn’t.

Not when he had lifted you onto the desk, pushing papers aside.

Not when he had slid his hands beneath your dress, pulling a moan from your lips as his fingers brushed your core through your panties.

Not when he had taken you apart right there, in the very office where he fought so hard to be the “good man.”

Because around you—he didn’t always want to be good.

He just wanted you

4. The Rooftop – Under the Stars

✨:

You had never been a fan of rooftops.

They made you nervous, made you feel like one wrong step would send you plummeting.

But when Matt had pulled you up there one night, promising he wouldn’t let you fall, you had followed.

And somehow, sitting there with him, the city below wasn’t so scary.

You had leaned into his side, warm beneath his touch, whispering about your day, his scars, the things you two never told anyone else.

And maybe it was the intimacy of the moment.

Or maybe it was just Matt Murdock, the way he made you feel like you were the only thing in the world worth touching.

Because suddenly—his lips were on yours.

Slow. Gentle.

Not like before—not rough, not desperate.

But like a man who had finally come home.

And there, under the stars, with nothing but the wind against both of your skin and the city buzzing beneath you both, Matt made love to you like you were something sacred.

And for once, you believed him.

5. The Church – When it Shouldn’t Have happened

✨:

It had been wrong.

So very, very wrong.

Matt had been struggling—torn between his faith, his demons, his feelings for you.

And you had just wanted to comfort him.

But when he had pulled you into the dimly lit confessional, hands gripping your waist, breath hot against your ear, you had known that you both weren’t going to stop.

And you hadn’t.

He had touched you like he was searching for salvation.

Matt Murdock is not an easy man to love.

But you love him anyways. You love his scars, his sins, the way he worships you when no one is watching.

And no matter where you two are—

His apartment.

Your bed.

His office.

A rooftop.

Even a place that was meant for prayers, not sins.

You will always comes back to him.

And Matt?

Matt always lets you.

Because he loves you, more than life it's self.

Din Djarin, The Star (XVII) 🌠

more of pedro's characters as tarot cards can be found under the # pedro tarot cards 💌

MAY THE FOURTH BE WITH YOU!!!! Created by George Lucas in/sp

We could be together, if you wanted to

A Jedi. A Mandalorian. A choice.

din djarin x f!reader

Rated M - 6.2k

Tags: Jedi!Reader, alluded past attempted SA , eventual smut, inappropriate use of the force, unprotected PIV, fingering, yearning Din, like really pining, very noncanon timeline, no beta read we go down with this ship

Divider by @/saradika

My first time writing a longer story, sorry if the POV switches are confusing, but I hope you enjoy it!

It wasn't supposed to have been like this. You groan as the cantina music pounds ruthlessly against your skull, the hot air sticking to your skin like a second layer. Your arm moves across the table, fumbling for who knows what against the scattered bottles of alcohol you threw back only hours ago. 

Hours? 

It was a pitying scene, your Jedi robes removed and scattered on the ground, leaving you in only a thin long sleeve and pants. Your lightsaber, the thing you worked so hard for, forgotten somewhere on a betting table. This was your reality now.

A fallen Jedi they called you.

Another groaned turned sob escapes your lips, your hands shakily rising to cover your face as if you could simply hide away from this life. Lost in your wallowing, you almost didn't hear the cantina bands music dull down to a few notes. The subtle stall of conversation in the cantina. The icy feeling of being watched from somewhere, or, everywhere at once. The force, plucking gently at your instincts through the layers of grief and drinks.

Run.

Your body moves on instinct, throwing up the large wooden table as a gloved hand reaches for you. Your feet sludge through your clothes and you let out a curse, your gaze swaying as you try to steady yourself. A flash of metal, and you move once more, the other cantina patrons shoving past you to escape out the few available exits. Your head whips around, trying to catch a glance of your assailant, but somehow they melt into the darkened corners surrounding you. Your eyes flutter shut, reaching out to that warm feeling surrounding you, that gentle pull that's been with you all your life. The Force thrums to life, spiking with intensity behind you within seconds. You gasp, flipping around just in time to face him.

He was huge, his frame surrounding all points of your vision as he stalks towards you. The beskar armor reflects the few light sources above, making him practically invisible. You move towards your belt but your hand is only met with open air. Your curse as your eyes see your lightsaber only a few tables away, gleaming in the dark. 

“I don't want any trouble,” you manage to say, your voice rough and scratchy from the hours of wailing your heart out before. He stands only a few inches in front of you, causing you to tilt your head fully back to look at the small visor on his helmet. He tilts his head as if he were actually regarding your plea. You should have known better.

His hand quickly grabs for your arm and waist, practically holding you to the spot with minimal struggle. You hear the clink of bracers from his belt as his other hand smoothly brings them towards you. You struggle in his grip trying to push away from him. Even the Force seemed to slip away from you causing a bitter laugh to rise in your throat.

“I don't regret it, making him hurt.” You whisper, the thought leaving your lips before you could catch it. It was an admission of what you did and yet the Mandalorian paused.. Your heart continued to pound in your chest as you waited for him to continue with his mission, to feel those cold pieces of armor clamp around your wrists. Your eyes glance to his hand still frozen at his side and your ears could pick up the soft squeak of leather from his grip as he tightens his hold on you and the metal cuffs. Your gasp draws his attention back to you as he lowers his hand on your waist, letting it fall to his side. 

“Was told a Jedi went rogue, attacked a Senator in his home.” His modulated voice was softer than you would have imagined, and you blink up at him as you register his words. You nod, your throat drying as the events flood back to your mind. 

“The Senator has been known to disregard the protection of male Jedis. I was sent instead, exactly as he requested.” You state, the practiced cool of your voice barely wavering as you take in another breath. 

“I merely protected the other Jedi they would have sent after me. He needed to understand that that would never happen to anyone again.” His screams still lingered in your ears; his petrified face locked onto yours as you unsheathed your lightsaber. It wasn't a killing blow, but it left a big enough scar so that he would never forget who gave it to him. The Mandalorian seemed to nod, and you glanced around nervously as the last remnant of alcohol burned from your system. 

“So, are you taking me back?” You whisper softly, trying to peer into the darkened T of the helmet and imagine just who was underneath. His hands move quickly and your body jerks back in surprise. His movement halts to a complete stop, before continuing slowly, placing the cuffs back onto his belt. 

“I am meant to complete my mission.”

Your stomach drops at his words, yet you nod firmly, accepting what was to wait for you back with the senate. They already claimed you betrayed the Jedi order, they already set a bounty on you. A once honorable Jedi knight now turned enemy.

“But the bounty escaped.”

Your eyes jerk back up to his, your breath hitching in your throat as you take in his words. The Mandalorian turns silently, moving to one of the nearby exits. He turns back to look at you, tilting his head as a sign to follow. You scrabble to gather your discarded clothes in the wreckage of the bar as you shuffle to follow him out. Your eyes land on that piece of metal that seemed to call out to you, pleading for you to bring it along. What was a Jedi without their lightsaber? You sniffle as you trace a loving finger over the hilt you had grown up with. The cantina wasn't a complete mess, but enough debris remained that you could spot a broken slat of wooden floor near the table you had thrown. Deep enough to hide something and inconspicuous enough to not be examined in detail. Carefully, you place the saber into the hole, sliding it until it was out of view and lost somewhere under the wooden flooring. The roar of a ship interrupted your thoughts, reminding you that he was waiting, and you were to join him.

That was months ago. Now, you sit lazily in the copilot chair on the razor crest, watching the coordinates Mando punched in with ease. 

“Ti’yar again? Really?” You ask excitedly, turning to face the bounty hunter. He just nods, placing the ship into autopilot for the foreseeable future.

“A lead recommended Ti’yar for information on a bounty.” Is all he says, standing up to make his way back to the shared living space outside of the cockpit. You watch him leave with a fond smile. It took some time before you grew accustomed to his curt words but now you found yourself understanding the Mandalorian better. He was kind, in his own way. Most people projected their kindness with loud actions, but Mando preferred his to go unnoticed if he couldn't help it. It started back when you first boarded the ship. How he scavenged up some clothes for you to change into. Or how he made a small storage room into your own personal space. When you tried to thank him he simply waved you off.

“It's nothing. Besides, you have your own work cut out for you.”

He wasn't wrong. You began helping him locate his bounties as a way to “pay” him back. The Force didn't leave you as you once thought it would, instead, it moved differently than you were used to. Your relationship worked and you wouldn't trade it for anything. 

But that's all it was. Business.

Sometimes you wondered if it could be more. 

You follow him deeper into the ship as excitement pours out of you. Ti’yar was a coastal city nestled in thick green forests. The first time you visited you wondered if the place was even real. With delicious food and festivals, you made it known this was your favorite stop on your journey so far. A part of you wondered about his reason for the sudden voyage. 

‘The bounty doesn't have any known ties to Ti’yar, so why stop..’ 

Your feet continued to propel you forward as you tried to understand, causing you to smack into the solid back of the bounty hunter. Mando quickly turns around as his hands gently land on your shoulders to steady you. 

“You ‘kay?” He grumbles, his hands quickly retreating to his sides so quick you almost missed that subtle flex of his leather clad hands after they touched you. 

“Mhhm.” You couldn't help the smile spreading across your face at his gentle actions. 

“Be ready in three hours.” Is all he says before turning back around and heading to his room farther down the hall. The feeling of his hands still warmed your shoulders, and you couldn't help gently running your hand along the spots he had touched, as if you could feel some sort of remnant of him there. 

The Jedi code didn't care when it came to physical relationships.

The Jedi code warned against attachments. 

Attachments led to fear and jealousy.

You were no longer Jedi.

The thought still churned your stomach, but the concept of freedom melted across your tongue like honey. You had choices now. This was something that could be yours, by your decision. Your mind began to form an idea. One that made your heart race with desire. Did you even know what desire was? Passion? You wondered how it would feel to choose someone for more than just the reason of being there. Would he even want that?

Three hours didn't seem long enough to quell your hurricane of a mind before the ship began its descent, your future only a few hundred feet below you.

The Mandalorian emerged from his room, moving back to the cockpit to steady the Razor Crests landing. He found himself looking for you. His gaze automatically sweeping the ship before they landed on you, your body tucked carefully into the copilot chair. You were wearing a flowing tunic, the material so thin and light he imagined he could tear it with a touch. You turned, wearing that maker damned smile you always wore when you looked at him. The smile that made his chest clench with some unknown feeling. 

“Ready to catch a bounty?” You grinned as he sat himself into his seat, fighting the urge to adjust his body under your stare. 

“Just information.” He reminded you, his voice stuck in his throat for whatever reason. He could tell from the heat of your gaze you wanted to say more to him and he thanked the maker the ship began its landing protocol before you could. Something felt different. The air felt heated more than it ever had. He always made sure you were comfortable. He kept his touches gentle and when he was capable, always with warning. That day still haunted him. Receiving the bounty for some Jedi the Senate proclaimed as dangerous, only to find you alone in some dingy bar crying by yourself. He had moved without thought as he approached you. His hand reaching out for what? He barely had time to react as you flipped that table. In any other case he would have been proud and when you told him what you did to that Senator, he knew he wasn't turning you in. 

You were the most fierce and beautiful thing he had ever seen. 

You didn't need him to protect you but he would be damned if he didnt keep you as safe as he could. 

“Mando? Mando-”

He was torn from his thoughts as he glanced back at you. Your eyes, so wide and trusting. His hand tightened into a fist as he stood up and moved towards the docking bay of the ship. Your footsteps chased after him quickly as he exited the ship and stepped onto the soft ground of Ti’yar. 

“You are ignoring me!” You huff as you finally make it back to his side and he only felt a small twinge of displeasure at making you feel ignored. 

“We have things to do.” Is all he says when really, that's all he can manage. He can feel your shock and frustration as he begins to walk the trail leading down into the town.

“Mando!” You call after him and he swears just one order from you would bring him to his knees.

Then you speak.

His body stops. His heart pounds in his chest. He turns towards you slowly to keep his instincts at bay.

“What did you say?” The gravelly tone of his voice seems to surprise you. You let out a groan as you cross your arms over your chest.

“If you tried to catch me like a bounty, how long would it take you?” The words leave your voice with a false air of confidence despite the slight shake in your body. You move down the trail carefully while keeping your eyes locked onto where you imagined his were staring right back at you. 

“I've always wondered since that day, if you had seriously tried to catch me, and I tried to run, how long would it take you to get me?” You say again. Despite his face being hidden you could feel the air begin to change with sharp spikes of electricity. The Force, tugging at your heels.

Run.

Run.

Run.

“If I wanted to catch you, it wouldn't take long at all.” The Mandalorians' voice rasped out and hearing it sent a thrill down your spine.

“I’m a little hurt you think so little of me-”

“I could never think little of you.”

His interruption caused your eyes to widen as you stared at one another. That unknown heat began to rise in your body, demanding to be felt for once in your life. This was it. Your decision. Your desire.

“I want to try then.”

He waited for you to explain.

“I want to run from you, and I want you to chase me. Or at least, I want you to want to chase me." You couldn't stop the words from pouring out of your mouth. "I want to make this choice, and I want you to have one as well." Those inner dreams and desires finally see the light of day in your new life. The silence rings loudly in your ears as you wait for him to do anything. You begin to feel the panic rise in your chest. “You can choose to follow me or not, Mando, but I am going, and if I have to prove to you I am serious about this I will-" Your words cause him to step towards you once more.

‘Oh maker, I’ve messed this all up,this is too much for him, I’m too much-’

“I’ll give you thirty minutes to get to town.” His modulated voice cuts through the air, sending chills down your spine. Mando huffs and adjusts his stance before you, "And I know you're serious about this, it's just-" You can hear him sigh as he shakes his head, opening his bracer to set a time limit before snapping it back shut. “We will use these comms to communicate when needed.” He moves forward once more, placing a small comms link into your hand.

“Once I am hunting you, I won't stop, and once I catch you, you will have another choice to make." He says simply, his hand lingering over yours. You stare up at him, the beating of your heart filling the air. "Once I catch you, I'll let you go, if that's what you want. You can keep running." 

Your face is so flushed and beautiful he has to fight the urge to groan at the sight.

 "And if I decide to not run?" You ask softly, looking up to his masked face.

The Mandalorian takes another breath, finally pulling his hand back. "If you decide to stay, you're mine." 

There it was, his choice, the desire for you palpable in his words. You wanted to know what he wanted and there it was.

It would always be you.

Excitement ran through your body as you two stood closely together.  “I guess you'll have to catch me to know my answer.” You whisper up to him, laced with that teasing tone he had grown so used to.

All he does is nod. It's all he can do.

The game was afoot. 

Ti’yar was just as breathtaking as you remembered. The streets were full of merchants and shops with smiling faces calling out to you. It only took you a few minutes to get into the center of town, and you felt confident about your good timing. You glance around the tall buildings before spotting a small lodging near the water's edge.

“A beautiful establishment, very romantic.” A small voice speaks from beside you, your eyes looking down to the small framed grandmother sweeping the ground next to your feet.

“Do they have any openings?” You ask politely while you will the Force to gently push the pile of dust together for her with ease. The elder laughs with glee but says nothing about the act.

“Tell them Inana sentcha’, they’ll give you the best suite for you and your partner up there.” 

Inana gestures towards the Razor Crest only a few miles away, just a small glint of metal on the skyline. You grow flustered quickly opening your mouth to oppose her words before she moves away from you, humming happily. The lodge catches your eye once more, glowing against the ocean in a hypnotizing way. You bite your lip, weighing the options. You had enough to pay for a great room, but would Mando realize that you weren't hiding in the actual town too quickly? Inana passes in front of you once more and you smile as an idea enters your head. You quickly take out a handful of credits and approach Inana, taking her hand and placing them into her frail hand. Inana lets out a gasp as she sees the amount now in her possession.

“Whatever is this for?” She asks, her eyes wide and curious. 

“If a Mandalorian comes this way, please let him know you saw me enter that building over there.” You explain, pointing to a building a few streets up from the plaza. Inana shakes her head, her face contorted in confusion. 

“I guess I can, that Mandalorian was always trouble, but, whatever for dear?” She asks, and from the care and kindness in her voice you have half a mind to just stay here with her. 

“I care about that person a lot. I want to prove to him I am not as delicate as he thinks I am.”

Inana clucks her tongue at you, causing a bashful flush to rise to your cheeks. 

“I’m sure he knows that young lady, but your secret is safe with me.” She smiles, patting your hand gently. 

The sun was already beginning to set, warm rays of reds and yellows painting the scenery around you. You take a deep breath as you stretch and take in the salty air. Your thirty minutes was almost up. Careful to walk along the busiest parts of the roads you slip in between groups of people, hoping they would hide your footprints as much as possible. The lodge wasn't too far from town, but the sun was already sunk behind the sea by the time you approached the front doors. The Twi’lek at the front desk happily accepted your credit and recommendation from Inana and tugged you along to a room facing the water. It wasn't too high of a floor nor too low, so if Mando was to even come this far out it would give you ample time to form a plan before he found you. 

The room was beautiful. Calm colors painted the room and you could spot a large bathtub with copious amounts of soaps. The bed centered against the wall took your breath away by the amount of blankets and pillows alone. Your fingers roamed over the fine silk of a robe the staff left out for you on the mattress and you knew you would be dreaming of this place forever. A grin practically splits your face as you slip into it only to be interrupted by the sharp hiss of the device in your ear.

“It was smart to send me in the wrong direction.” His voice was low and husky, even more modulated by the crackle of the device. 

“Don't tell me you badgered an old woman into giving you directions, Mando?” You smiled despite the surprise of his realizing your game already. You carefully moved up onto the soft sheets, noticing how easily two people could fit on the bed.  

“She gave me an earful about, what did she say, how much you liked me?” 

You gasped and flew up on the bed, heat rising to your face with ferocity. 

“I said care! How much I cared-” You slapped a hand over your mouth, inwardly groaning as a chuckle crackled from his end of the connection. 

“Good to know, sweet girl.”

Any comeback you had for him sizzled out on your tongue. 

“Now, where are you?” 

You roll your eyes, stretching out on the silken comforter while a groan escapes your lips. You could swear you heard a small hitch in his breath at your noise and you couldn't help the boost to your ego.

“Miss me that much already?”

“If I say yes will you just come home already?”

Home.

You weren't sure if he even realized what he said by the constant grumbling coming from his end of the call. “I’m a strong fallen Jedi, it would take more than some flirting to bring me back.” You tease, waiting to hear some sly remark back. You are met with static.

“Did I make you feel like you weren't?” He asks. His voice was soft and almost, you realized with curiosity, vulnerable. 

“No, you didn't, just-”

“Just what?”

“I like that you take care of me.” You state, almost impressed by the confidence in your voice. You take in a small breath before continuing, “I like it, but I needed to know it was what you wanted. The Jedi live devoted lives, it's how I was raised but now, I can choose too.” You can hear him exhale on the other end, and you could practically see his head nodding along to your words. “I want you to have that choice too, I mean you're already coming for me, unless you changed your mind, which I would still support-”

He chuckles once more at your ramblings, and the sound goes straight to your heart to tuck away for later. 

“Noted, but I’m not leaving you.” Is all he says, the warmth in his voice seeping into your mind with ease.

Your eyes begin to feel heavy despite the racing of your heart. This was nice. It was rare you and him got a chance to speak so freely. You yawn as you stretch out and nestle into the mountain of pillows arranged on the bed, a content and happy smile on your lips. 

“You tired, sweet girl?” He asks softly, and you could almost swear there's a crackling sound of ocean waves from his end. 

“Not at all…” You whisper as your voice trails off, confirming his suspicions. 

“Do you want to know why we stopped on Ti’yar?” He asks suddenly. You nod, not even thinking that he couldn't see your response. “I remembered how much you loved it when we came last time. Your eyes just, glowed, seeing the ocean and town. I wanted to make that happen again.You deserve this, you deserve more than what I can give you cyar’ika.” 

You want to protest, to tell him he is everything you deserve and more, but sleep overtakes you, only allowing a small whisper of acknowledgement to Din. He doesn't mind, rather, hearing your small huffs of sleep makes him feel better. Knowing you were in this lodge safe, proving you could run from him. It took him longer to find you than he anticipated. That old woman certainly tricked him, but he couldn't help the pride in him when he realized how smart you had been. His gaze travels up to take in the waterfront lodge. It was beautiful. Exactly the kind of place he hoped you'd find. He enters the front door, briefly talking with that same Twi'lek as before. He mutters some lies along the lines of wife and husband before they tell him what room you were in. He carefully stalks towards your room, his bounty hunter instincts urging him to move faster and faster. He finds your door, pushing it open gently. There you were, nestled so peacefully on the bed it almost made him want to leave you.

Almost.

He approaches you gently, taking in your form swathed in some silken robe that made his jaw clench. The lights flickered on to a dull glow, just enough light to see your form before him. His hand reaches out, gently brushing the soft skin of your cheek against the cool leather of his glove. You groan softly, and he has to stifle a similar noise leaving his lips. 

“Cyar’ika.” He says softly, watching with bated breath as your eyes flutter open. You roll over, unsurprised to see him before you. 

“How did I do, bounty hunter?” You ask with a sleepy smile despite the hot sensation of his hand on your cheek. 

“You did wonderful.” He says quickly, his tone so sure and confident. You sigh as you sit up and Din isn't sure if he should remove his hand or not. He decides on the latter, and gently lowers his hand before you snatch it up in your grip tightly. You pull him closer and you can feel the tautness of his body. He found his bounty and was ready to strike.

“You caught me.” You whisper softly, sitting up on the sheets to look up at him. The bed was high enough that as you sat on your knees you easily were at eye level with him. 

You already knew your choice.

You both knew.

You carefully pulled his hand to your waist, like he had all those months ago. Instead of that gruff hold he once used now he barely grips you. His hand shakes as if he is fighting himself to stay there. 

“I trust you.” Is all you say, giving him a soft smile as your hands move forward towards his armored chest. You hiss at the cold sensation of the beskar on your palms but continue roaming over his body. Your movements seem to calm him enough that you feel his hand finally rest fully on your waist, his thumb rubbing a rhythmic pattern on the silk robe.

You hum as you examine his body even further, your hands trailing up to his pauldrons and resting easily along the fabric of his cloak secured around his neck. His breath hitched only slightly and you wished you could see it for yourself. 

“You touch me as if I’ll vanish.” You muse gently. Your head tilts back to gaze up to his visored face. His head tilts to the side, exposing the smallest sliver of tanned skin underneath. 

“Sometimes I’m afraid you will.” Was his response. Mando’s tone is surprisingly soft despite the edge of his modulator. His hand tightens only slightly, barely inching up towards your ribcage. “I’m afraid you will realize you could do so much better than be stuck with me.”

His words strike you. Your eyes glance up to him with concern, “The only place I want to be is with you.” Your whispered confession floats up to him.

You are not sure who moves first.

Your body is crushed against his, those gloved hands roaming across your body as his cold metal helmet pushes itself into your neck. He’s mumbling, low and intelligible and it makes you giggle as your hands scrape against the rough fabric of his flight suit. You gasp as you're suddenly pushed down onto the plush bed. Mando’s hand still splayed on your lower back, pulling you up and against him. You gasp at the sudden friction as he moves himself between your thighs.

“Tell me what you want, cyar’ika.” He says in a low tone while trailing his hand from your back down to your thigh. Your thoughts were frazzled. A deep heat rising to your cheeks as you try to stammer out your desires. 

“I want-I want to feel you.” Your plea is met with quick movements from him, his hands quickly tearing off the leather gloves to reveal tan skin underneath. You reach for him slowly, shocked to feel just how warm he was. His hands were rough and calloused but they felt so right. You pull his hand to your face, pressing a soft kiss to his palm. The Mandalorian groans, his body jerking against yours. You grin at his reaction. 

“All that for a kiss, Mando?” You tease, pulling his hand down your neck and leaving him to the skin revealed under your robe. There's a modulated gasp and maker you think you just discovered your favorite sound. 

“Can I?” Mando asks through gritted teeth, fisting the silken robe on your body. All it takes is a whispered yes from you before your body is revealed to the cool night air. He lets out a hiss as he takes in your naked form, glowing under the soft lights within the room. You begin to worry, maybe it was too forward, but any thoughts were squashed as his hands began to roam over your skin, leaving no spot untouched. 

His thumb brushes against one of your hardened nipples and you have to bite down on a moan from how sensitive you felt below him. You had dalliances with other Jedi, all quick and to the point. But none held you like this. None touched your body with so much reverence.

“So fucking beautiful, cyar’ika.” He moans out, his hips grinding down against yours. Your legs part, making room for him as his hands struggle to decide where to go and another groan of frustration leaves his lips.

“Mando-please-” 

“It’s Din.”

In your fevered state, you still manage to glance at him with confusion.

“My name is Din.” He emphasizes before his hand trails down your stomach and to the slick pool growing between your legs, gently coaxing small moans from your lips. His fingers move deftly across your folds, rubbing that spot so perfectly before stopping completely. You let out a frustrated groan, trying to grind against him for any kind of friction to relieve yourself. Din chuckles as he shakes his head. 

“Say it, sweet girl. Say my name.”

You squeeze your eyes shut as your body aches from the lack of contact. “Please, Din, I need you-” You barely could finish your begging before his fingers plunged into you, arching your body off the bed. Din moved with expert precision, finding that sweet spot with a simple curl of his fingers that made you see stars. Then you felt it, that warm pull at the edge of your senses. You tried to focus, but every thrust of his fingers made you gasp, and you were losing control quickly.

“Din, I want to, if you'd like-”

“You can do whatever you want with me.” He interrupts, the words ringing so true between you two. You spent so much time wanting to be his so badly, it almost surprised you to hear just how badly he wanted to belong to you. 

You moved the Force like syrup, rolling lazily towards Din until it reached lower, and lower-

Din made a startled gasp as his hips stuttered, grinding into the space between you..

“Cyar’ika-” He chokes out, but continues his rhythmic movement with his fingers. You moan encouragingly, willing the sensation surrounding his clothes bulge to grow stronger, rubbing teasingly along his length. 

It almost made you blush at realizing just how much of him was hidden away.

“Fuck, sweet girl, youre so perfect-” He gasps, his fingers speeding up within you. You gasp and writhe underneath him, that tension rising within you and so ready to snap. He was close, you could tell, and you gently drew the Force back from him, his body shaking with pleasure. “Din, I need you inside me-” You plead, grinding your hips up to his. Din nods, pulling his fingers out of you with a wet sound as he fumbles with his armor and belts. 

You smile, sitting up carefully to assist him. Your hands bump against each other as you both laugh softly, trying to remove the beskar quickly. Eventually, he is in his flightsuit, and you can spy the small zipper over his lower half. You scoot forward, gently bringing your hand to the zipper and pulling until his thick length bobbed out for you to see. Your mouth watered at the sight of him, your body leaning down to him before Din chuckled, gently grasping your chin as he shakes his head. 

“Next time, cyar'ika, I don't think I will last.” He growls, pushing you back onto the bed gently, “And I want this to last.” His chest plate brushes against your breasts, causing you to gasp as his weight consumes you. He breathes heavily above you, lacing your hands with his beside your head.

“You want this?” He asks, his tone now soft and gentle. His body stays above yours, so close to bringing you that pleasure you desired. “Even though I can’t remove my helmet, you want this?”

You could practically hear the other question he wanted to ask.

Do you want me?

A shaky breath escapes your lips, your eyes peering up to his face. You nod, squeezing his hand. “I want you Din. I always will.” You tell him softly, leaning up to place a kiss on his helmet. Din chuckles before carefully guiding himself into you, hissing at the tightness surrounding him.

“Maker, you feel more perfect than I imagined,” He gasps, sinking all the way into you. You let out a shaky breath, nodding at how perfectly full you were. 

“You were made for me, cyar’ika, now I’ll never let you go.” He growls, slapping his hips against yours, a sharp moan leaving your lips as he drives into you. 

“Shit, Din, please-” You weren't sure what you were begging for, but with each thrust you were losing more and more logic. You turn your head, biting down onto the fabric on his forearm as he hits that sweet spot repeatedly. The bed was creaking across the floor, but neither of you cared, pleasure blinding you both from any consequences or care.

“I’m close, sweet girl, where do you want me to-”

“Inside me Din, please, I want to feel you inside me.”

Din wasn't sure what he had done to deserve you. He thrust into you, faster and faster, your moans turning into a scream of pleasure as his hand touches you once more, bringing you to deafening pleasure. Din was not far behind you, thrusting only a few more times until you could feel his warmth coating your insides, filling you up even more than you thought possible. He groans, sinking down on top of you, his weight adding an extra sense of security as he stays inside of you. You both stay silent, aside from the short gasps between the both of you as you try to regain control over your hearts.

“Was that good?” You finally ask, trailing a hand along his back. 

He chuckles, shaking his head at your tone. “I think you've destroyed me cyar’ika.” He mumbles, causing you to laugh softly. The lights in the room began to dull as the sun rose over the ocean, filling the walls with those same streaks of red and gold like you saw last night. You can feel Dins breathing slow as your hand strokes his back, sleep consuming him quickly. 

Maker, when was the last time you felt like this? So safe and happy? Your eyes began to flutter closed as well, even as Dins arms tightened around your body and secured you to him. 

“You’re mine, cyar’ika.” He grumbles, and you nod in agreement at his words.

“I'm yours, always yours.”

The Jedi and Mandalorian lay with one another under the soft rays of sunrise, their breathing matching one another's even as the town awakens, a new day beginning.

Ohhhhh I ate this up fr!

fall with me {frank castle}

synopsis: short n sweet. the one where frank meets a girl at a bar, and agrees to go home with her.

warnings: none! cotton candy clouds of fluff ahead, folks.

“Tonight's the night, pal. I can feel it.” 

“Yeah? Can you feel this?” Frank scowls around the rim of his beer bottle and flips David the bird. 

“I won't take that personally, Frank,” He sniffs before taking a gulp from his own bottle. “Even though I think you'd prefer it if I did.” 

Frank waves him off with a scoff and mumbles, “What's your fixation with me gettin’ laid, anyway?”

David's blue eyes widen before he elicits a breathless guffaw. “It's hardly a fixation, Frank. Consider it a genuine concern for your well-being, cause I can't even imagine the state of your balls right now.” 

“Jesus,” He lets out an exasperated laugh and shakes his head. “‘Fuck outta here, Lieberman.” 

The younger man laughs along with him, before taking another drag from his bottle and shrugging. “On a purely self-indulgent note, I’m hoping it'll turn you into a less grumpy bastard.” 

Frank's only response to that is a muffled grunt. 

“Besides,” He shrugs. “I hate to break it to you, Frank, but you could really benefit from a little joy every now and then.” 

David Lieberman was never someone he assumed would take a permanent position in his life, so his words hit him in a surprising way. Sharing a beer with him now, it’s obvious that he's one of a scarce handful of people who have his back in every sense of the word. 

“And like, let’s be real for a second,” David clears his throat and signals to the bartender for another beer. “If you can make out with Sarah, talking to any pretty lady here isn’t going to be too much of a stretch.” 

Frank’s eyes fall shut before he utters a string of hoarse curse words. He wonders briefly if David’ll ever let him forget it, and then figures he probably won’t. He certainly wouldn’t if it were Maria. A surge of grief passes over him like a rain cloud on a sunny day, and when his eyes open again, David is pointing very indiscreetly to someone at the other end of the bar. 

“Someone like her, for instance.” 

Frank huffs before turning around to view the poor soul in which David has so glaringly singled out and wants to wave him off, but he’s dumbstruck by the mere sight of her. She’s wearing what can only be described as a hideous cowboy hat; some sort of leopard print number with gold stars and a pair of well-worn fire-engine red cowboy boots. She's laughing loud and genuinely with a small group of her friends, and he's inexplicably wondering what it would feel like to be the cause of that laughter when she glances up at him as if hearing his thoughts. He licks his lips and quickly averts his gaze. 

“Go up and talk to her,” David smirks. “I double-dog dare you.” 

Frank rolls his eyes. “Christ, what is this? Middle school?” 

He's about to let David have more of a piece of his mind when the piercing sound of microphone feedback splits the chaotic din of the bar in half, drawing his attention to the makeshift stage upfront.

A man leans into the microphone and taps it twice to check that it's in good working order before announcing, “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to karaoke night at Rudy's. First up tonight is a first-timer who wants to apologize in advance if she-" He leans forward, squinting at the paper in his grasp and laughs. “- Who wants to apologize in advance if she sucks. Please put your hands together for our first guest!” 

Frank chances a glance back at the cowgirl at the bar and notices she's gone, but that her friends are creating uproarious applause for her on the stage. She lifts a hand to shield herself from the glaring spotlight and grins. 

“Howdy, y'all. Here goes nothin’.” She tilts her head to the side and winks at someone off stage and the opening double bass notes to Nancy Sinatra’s These Boots Are Made For Walkin’ crackle to life, filling up every space of the bar with glorious sixties nostalgia. 

Frank's powerless to wipe the smile from his face as he watches her dance around the stage. Despite her lacking any semblance of natural grace, she commands presence from the small crowd before her, and like a moth to a flame, he finds himself drawn to her light.

You keep playin' where you shouldn't be playin'

And you keep thinking that you'll never get burnt, ha!

I've just found me a brand new box of matches, yeah

And what he knows you ain't had time to learn

More than anything, he can tell she's having the time of her life up there. She seems bolstered by the raucous cheering from her friends, but he gets the feeling that even if she were alone, she’d be the same way.

“Are ya ready boots?” She simpers into the microphone. “Start walkin’!” 

She twirls around the stage, kicking her boots (entirely out of time) to the finishing notes. When the song ends, she bows so low that her hat falls from her head, and in one swift motion, she's upright again, fastening it back on with a cheeky grin. Frank’s gaze follows her as she jumps from the stage into the open arms of her cheering friends. 

“Well that was unexpectedly charming,” David laughs. “Consider me unexpectedly charmed.” 

Frank glances back at him and nods his head. “Yeah, me too.” 

“You should buy her a drink, Frank.” 

David's singsong tone itches just beneath the surface of his skin, and causes him to roll his eyes. “How did I know that was comin’, huh?” He finishes off the rest of his beer, and sets his bottle back against the scarred wooden countertop with a resounding clank. “I got no business buyin’ her anything, Lieberman. She can take care of herself. She’d probably tell me to go pound sand if I offered.” 

He’s expecting a smart-ass remark from the man next to him, but all he gets is silence, and a growing smirk. 

“What?”

Someone clears their throat behind him.

“My friends and I are celebrating tonight. Can we buy you two a drink?” 

Frank swivels around on his stool, he's so close to her that he can smell the floral scent of her perfume on her skin, and it makes him slightly lightheaded. 

David sighs dramatically and rises from the bar stool, patting the back pocket of his jeans to check that his wallet is still there.

“While I would love nothing more than to tie off a couple more cold ones, my kid's got a piano recital at the ass-crack of dawn tomorrow morning,” he turns to Frank. “You still coming, right?” 

Frank nods. “Wouldn't miss it.” 

David shoots him a thumbs-up, and then turns to grin at the cowgirl. “Keep on yeehawin’ in the free world, lil' lady.” 

That makes her laugh, and she salutes him as he turns his back to leave. 

“So, what'll it be then?” She asks, once they're alone.

Frank clears his throat, shakes his head. “Ah, I'm okay, thanks. Nothin' more for me.” 

She looks momentarily crestfallen. 

Frank clears his throat again and tilts his head toward the handsome young man at the other end of the bar. “Why do you wanna buy me a drink, huh? He looks like he could use one.” 

She wedges her bottom lip between her teeth and shrugs. “Because, he wasn't looking at me up there the way you were.” 

Frank doesn't blush often, and thanks a higher being that David's no longer there because he would've noticed it immediately, and Frank would've never heard the end of it. 

“Why are you celebrating tonight?” He asks, by way of changing the subject. 

“My friends bet me that I wouldn't get up in full western attire and do karaoke tonight.” 

A gruff laugh erupts from Frank. “You sure proved them wrong. You were uh… pretty great up there.” 

Despite the minimal lighting in the bar, Frank can clearly see the sudden rush of blood to her cheeks and he chokes back a smile at the notion that he caused it.

“I definitely was not, but it's very kind of you to say so.” 

Silence settles between the two of them before she plucks up enough courage to ask for his name, and he hesitates a beat before telling her. 

“Frank Castle,” she savors the combination of his letters on her tongue, and he decides right then and there that his name sounds infinitely better when she's saying it. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Frank.” 

A smile dances on his lips. “Pleasure’s all mine, ma'am.” 

It's quiet between them before she asks, “Well if you won't let me buy you a drink here, will you at least let me make you one at my place?” 

He's taken aback by her audacity, and he allows himself a moment to briefly ponder what that drink could end up entailing, while also ignoring the sudden spike in his heart rate.

“Not to brag, but I do make a mean redneck margarita.” She wiggles her eyebrows suggestively, as if the mere mention of mountain dew and jose cuervo could sway his decision her way, and Frank can't help laughing at that. 

When the dust eventually settles, he very quietly assures her that she does not want to go home with him; he stops himself just short of saying - I'm bad news bears, kid. He lets the silence linger a while longer before shrugging. “Besides, I'm sure your friends aren't done galavanting around for the evening.” 

She shakes her head, adamantly. “They aren’t. But I'm done for the night. Maybe for a while, even, and I can promise you that.” 

Any excuse he can think of crumbles entirely when David's mug appears to him, his words from earlier ringing through the confines of his mind like a bell.

At this point, what is there to lose?

“Alright,” He resigns. “Show me the way."

He spends the majority of the ride to her apartment convincing himself that there is no conceivable way the beautiful woman next to him wants him, so he’s a little surprised when she jumps out of the truck first, cocks her head to the side, and asks if he’s coming today or tomorrow. 

He shakes his head, and lets out a low, incredulous laugh before eventually nodding. “Right behind ya.” 

Frank follows her into her apartment, and waits patiently while she flicks on a couple of lamps which bathe her quaint space in a soft, orange glow. She sets her purse down on the coffee table and falls back against the wall next to her expansive bay window with a soft sigh.

Taking a steadying breath, she eyes him and confesses that she doesn’t make a habit of doing these kinds of things.

Frank keeps his distance and shrugs. “Neither do I." 

His heart pounds harder the longer they gaze at each other, and the irony that it doesn’t do that nearly as intensely when he punishes, isn’t lost on him.  

“Will you do me a favour, Frank?” She asks. 

He swallows hard; knows they're quickly approaching a precipice, of which there can be no turning back.

“Yes ma’am.” 

“Come here and kiss me.” 

He doesn’t have to be told twice. Closing the distance between them in a couple of strides, he takes her face in his hands, and kisses her. It’s an ornate push-and-pull that could go on until he takes his last, rasping breath, as far as he's concerned. He’s positive he could get drunk on the sheer taste of her; all spearmint gum, and the faintest hint of cigarette smoke, and it only succeeds in making him hunger for more of her. He comes up for air first, resting his forehead against hers while he tries - in vain - to regulate his breathing. 

“Was that alright?” His voice is all gravel and shattered glass as he brushes the calloused pad of his thumb over the rounded curve of her warm cheek and leans forward to kiss it. He doesn’t realize how much he’s missed doing that small thing until he has the pleasure of doing it to her.

“Yeah,” she whispers, and reaches down to take his hand. “Come with me, Frank.” 

He doesn’t realize he’s holding his breath until he steps past the threshold of her bedroom door, and releases a pent-up rush of air. While she flicks on the lamp beside her bed, Frank wonders how on earth it’s possible that it feels like he’s known her for years, instead of a mere hour.  

“I need another favour from you.” 

He swallows. “Name it, Boots.” 

“Will you lie down with me for a spell? I’m entirely out of practice with this sort of thing.” 

Frank agrees, and crawls into bed beside her, turning so that they’re nearly nose-to-nose.

“We don’t gotta do anything, you know.” 

She stifles a yawn. “Oh no, we are. And it’s going to be nothing short of mind-blowing when we do.” 

Frank laughs. “Alright, then.” 

It’s quiet in her room, the only other muffled sounds are that of the city outside her window. 

Her fingers dance across the chiseled line of his jaw, and down his neck to the gold chain around it. A lump swells in the hollow of his throat as he waits for her to ask about it.

“There’s a story here.” She whispers, tracing the warm metal of his wedding band.

Frank nods. 

“You don’t have to tell me.” 

He clears his throat; has a desire to be honest with her, even though he really doesn’t have to, and maybe shouldn’t. 

“I had a wife, and kids. They’re uh… they’re gone.” 

He’s stopped saying he lost them, because it’s not as if he could ever find them again, no matter how badly he wants to sometimes. 

“I’m sorry.” She swallows. 

Frank brushes a stray piece of hair from her eyes, his voice barely above a whisper when he tells her he's been 'workin’ on making my peace with it.'

“How’s that going?” She asks. 

He manages a small shrug. “Some days are better than others.” 

Like earlier in the evening, the silence that settles between them isn't uncomfortable, and he reckons it’s the kind of silence he could live in for the rest of his days.

She traces a fingertip down the bridge of his crooked nose and smiles. “This is a good nose, Frank. I like this nose.” 

His frown morphs into a curved smile. “You’d be the first, Boots.” 

“Boots, huh?” She yawns. 

He nods. “On account of the ones you had on earlier. And the song.” 

“And the song,” She hums. “It's a classic.” 

“Sure is.” Frank agrees. 

“I might fall asleep on you,” She warns. “Will you still be here when I wake up?” 

Frank lifts her hand to his lips and presses a kiss to each of her knuckles. “If that’s what you want.” 

“It is.” She smiles at him once more before her eyes close for good, and he feels a block of ice the size of Jersey chip away from his left ventricle. 

“Sweet dreams, Boots.” 

picking up the pieces

pairing : frank castle x fem!reader warnings : hurt/comfort, crying, reverse comfort (kinda), not proofread, neighbour!frank, established relationship, petnames summary : frank’s self-deprecating comments finally get to you wc : 2.2k a/n : guys i’m #alive and #thriving don’t worry stop asking me if i’ve died thank you though🙇‍♀️🙇‍♀️

you weren’t supposed to fall for him.

not when he barely said a word for the first three months you lived next to him. not when you figured out pretty quick that he came home with bruises that didn’t match the kind of work he’d told you he did. not when you’d catch him sitting on the front stoop, covered in sawdust or blood or both, breathing like the air hurt.

but somehow it just… happened.

he came over once because you left a note on his door. hey - package came to mine by mistake. he looked confused when he knocked, like he didn’t think you’d actually write something so simple. you watched him glance at the box, then back at you, and you could tell from the way he cleared his throat that he didn’t know how to say thanks.

after that, he started showing up more.

bringing your mail. checking on the leaky faucet you mentioned offhandedly. standing a little closer each time, like he didn’t want to leave.

then one night, you knocked on his door.

you were crying, and you didn’t say why. just said can i come in? and he nodded, stepping aside without asking anything. he held you all night and didn’t ask a single question. but the next morning, he made coffee and you found out he took his black, no sugar. you told him that was insane and he just said, “you’re insane,” with the ghost of a smile. and from that point on, it was… different.

you kissed him two weeks later. he kissed you like he’d been waiting years.

it’d been eight months since that first night. eight months of quiet dinners, long showers, fingers laced tight under the covers, and frank’s body curled protectively around yours like he’s trying to shield you from the world.

right now, you’re curled up in his lap. it’s raining outside, soft and steady, and frank’s got one hand on your thigh, his thumb dragging slow lines across your skin. the tv’s playing something neither of you are really watching.

he smells like soap. like flannel and heat and something that always makes your stomach flip.

“you know,” you murmur, “you could stand to take a compliment once in a while.”

his thumb stills. “i take ‘em.”

“you deflect them.”

“same thing.”

you glance up at him, turning to rest your cheek against his chest. “i said you were a good man earlier and you said ‘debatable.’ what even is that?”

frank snorts softly. “it’s honesty.”

you make a face, nudge his ribs with your elbow. “you saved that guy last week. the one in the alley? you didn't even know him.”

“guy was gettin’ his ass handed to him by two meth-heads. it ain't that deep.”

you push yourself up a little, looking at him. “yeah, well you didn’t have to get involved. but you always do. because that’s just who you are.”

he looks at you then. just for a beat. his face unreadable.

“…maybe i just like pickin’ fights,” he says finally. there’s a rough edge to his voice, but it’s not angry. more like resigned.

you laugh softly. “okay, tough guy. sure.”

he grunts. “’s the truth.”

you lean in, brushing a kiss to his jaw, then nuzzle into the space under his arm again. “you’re good, frank. whether you believe it or not.”

he mutters, almost to himself, “i’m just a mess, sweetheart. you’re gonna get tired of picking up the pieces.”

you freeze.

it’s not that what he said is cruel. it’s not even new - he’s done this before, poked at himself like he’s just some walking mess. but tonight, it lands different. heavier. sharper.

you don’t answer. just stay still, curled against him, eyes open and fixed on nothing.

frank doesn’t notice at first. his hand moves back to your thigh, slow and steady, but something about your silence must click. eventually, he tilts his head down, squinting at you in the dim light.

“…hey.”

you blink.

“what?” your voice is too soft, too tight.

“you okay?”

“yeah.” you try to smile, to brush it off. but it’s barely there, and your eyes won’t meet his.

frank shifts a little to get a better look at you. the arm around your back pulls you closer, like he’s anchoring you to him. “what’s goin’ on in that head?”

you shake your head. “nothing. just… tired, i guess.”

he studies you for a second, then lifts a hand and brushes your hair gently behind your ear. “you don’t look tired.”

you glance at him for half a second before looking away again. it’s too much. he’s too much.

because he’s here. breathing and warm and solid beside you. and somehow, even after everything, he still doesn’t understand what it means when you look at him and say you’re good.

you press your face into his shoulder like you can hide there.

but the tears are already coming.

you try to turn your face further away, but you’re curled toward him, wrapped up in him - there’s nowhere to go. your hand comes up to your cheek instinctively, wiping the first tear before he can see, but you know he does.

you feel his whole body shift slightly.

“baby,” he says, low. confused.

you shake your head again, voice trembling. “it’s nothing.”

he leans forward just a bit, trying to see your face. “what’s wrong?”

“nothing, i swear - i just…” your throat closes up. you press your lips together and try to breathe through your nose, but it doesn’t work. your shoulders shake. “god, i don’t even know what’s wrong with me.”

his hand cups your jaw suddenly, tilting your face gently toward him.

“hey,” he says again, firmer. “sweetheart. look at me.”

you don’t want to. your eyes are glassy, lashes wet, cheeks red. you feel stupid. overly sensitive. like you’ve just ruined the softest moment with your own mess.

but he’s holding your face like you’re glass. like you’re made of something precious.

you blink up at him and your voice breaks.

“i just - i wish you could see yourself the way i do.”

frank’s lips part slightly. he doesn’t speak. his thumb brushes under your eye, catching the tear that slips down.

you exhale shakily, a little embarrassed now that it’s all out in the open.

“you say stuff like that,” you whisper, “like you’re some kind of monster. like you’re not good. and it just - it kills me. because you’re… you’re everything to me. you know that?”

his brows furrow. he looks like he doesn’t know what to say.

“…i don’t - ”

“i know you’ve been through hell. i know you think all that stuff ruined you. but it didn’t. not to me.” you swallow hard. “you love me like no one ever has. you take care of me. you make me feel safe. like i can breathe.”

your voice cracks again and frank just moves, pulling you into his lap before you can say another word.

he wraps both arms around you and holds you tight against his chest, one hand cradling the back of your head like you might fall apart if he lets go.

“shh, baby,” he murmurs into your hair. “c’mere. i got you.”

you bury your face into his neck and let yourself cry, finally giving in. it’s not loud. just quiet, broken little gasps against his skin as your fingers clutch the back of his shirt.

he doesn’t rush you. doesn’t say anything else for a long time.

just rocks you slightly, thumb tracing slow circles into your spine.

when your breathing finally evens out, he shifts just enough to look down at you. you don’t pull back. you stay pressed to him, arms tight around his waist.

“…you sure you ain’t got me mixed up with somebody else?” he says quietly.

you lift your head, watery eyes searching his face. “frank,” you whine.

he gives a soft sigh, like he already knows what you’re about to say but needed to hear it anyway.

“you’re mine,” you whisper. “you’re so good to me. you don’t have to be perfect, you just have to stay.”

he cups your face again and kisses your forehead. not rushed. not distracting. just gentle, grounding. and then another kiss to your temple. then your cheek. then your mouth - slow and soft and deep.

when he finally pulls back, he’s looking at you like maybe, just maybe, he’s starting to believe it.

“you ain’t goin’ anywhere either,” he says. “you hear me?”

you nod. your hand slides up to rest on the back of his neck. “i’m right here.”

“yeah you are.”

he presses his forehead to yours and closes his eyes.

and for a long time, the only sound in the room is the rain outside and the soft hum of his breath against your skin.

the rain’s stopped by morning. the quiet hum of the house is almost peaceful, except for the soft clink of dishes in the kitchen and the distant chirp of birds outside the window. you’re curled up in the same spot you were last night, still wrapped in the warmth of frank’s body. the bed’s slightly colder now where his body had been, but you feel tethered to him in a way that’s grounding, safe.

he’s already up when you open your eyes, the soft scrape of the kitchen chair against the floor letting you know he's busy. you don’t rush to get up, letting yourself linger in the comfort of the bed, still feeling the traces of his arms around you. the scent of coffee wafts into the room, pulling you from your hazy morning thoughts.

frank appears in the doorway a few moments later, coffee in hand. his hair’s a little tousled, and he’s wearing that worn, grey t-shirt of his you love. the sight of him makes your heart stutter in a way you still haven’t gotten used to. 

he doesn’t say anything at first, just stands there, his gaze soft and steady as it meets yours. there’s a quiet understanding between you, something built from the words left unsaid last night, from the vulnerability you shared. there’s a gentleness to his presence now, like he’s giving you space to breathe without making you feel like you have to speak.

after a moment, he walks over and sets the coffee down on the nightstand, then sits down next to you, the bed creaking under his weight.

you shift slightly, leaning into him, your head resting on his shoulder. it’s a small gesture, but it feels like everything, like the world is aligning in these quiet moments. there’s a peace here, one that’s fragile but steady.

he picks up his mug, taking a slow sip before setting it back down. “ain’t used to somebody cryin’ over me and stickin’ around,” he mutters, voice low. the words aren’t heavy, but they’re raw - like he’s still figuring out what it means for someone to care that much.

you don’t answer right away, just let yourself settle deeper into his side, the warmth of his body grounding you, making everything feel a little less sharp. you close your eyes for a moment, feeling the beat of his heart against your cheek, the weight of his arm around your shoulders.

finally, you speak, your voice soft but steady. “you don’t have to get used to it. i’m not going anywhere.” 

his hand brushes against your hair, gentle and comforting, before he lets it rest on your shoulder, his thumb moving in slow, rhythmic circles. “yeah?” he asks, his voice almost tentative, like he’s still unsure if this is real.

“yeah,” you whisper, barely more than a breath. “i’m here. always.”

for a long moment, neither of you speaks. you don’t need to. the quiet fills the space between you, wrapping around you both like a blanket. it’s comfortable, the kind of silence that doesn’t feel heavy, but full of understanding. full of trust.

you finally pull back just enough to look at him, meeting his gaze. there’s a softness in his eyes now, a flicker of something you haven’t seen before - something like hope, quiet but steady.

he looks at you for a beat, like he’s trying to figure out if he can believe it. then he sighs, almost to himself, and leans down to kiss the top of your head, slow and tender.

the rain’s long gone, and outside, the sky’s starting to clear, the sun creeping in. but in here, in this quiet moment with him, everything feels like it’s finally falling into place.

you feel his breath against your skin as he holds you, his arms strong but careful, like he’s afraid you’ll break if he lets go. but you don’t need to be held that tight, not anymore. you’re grounded now, by him, by this quiet, simple love.

the morning moves slowly, and for the first time in a long while, you let yourself breathe, really breathe, without the weight of everything else hanging over you. with frank, it’s different.

🛍️FRANK CASTLE : @stvr-dust, @uncertified-doc, @erospecies, @seasonofthenerd, @the-dixon-effect

@sreidmia, @10ava01, @divierses, @408destiiny, @tinyminxi

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