#1980s!din djarin

[moonlight-prose]

♱ SINCE I'VE BEEN LOVING YOU ♱

a/n: it's been a minute since i wrote anything for this man, but you know what he deserves a spot in kinktober. and this is a fic i've held onto for so long so i'm just shoving it into this list. i hope you enjoy! (p.s. to the black velvet lovers....chapter eleven is coming soon)

day two - breeding kink | kinktober 2022

summary: Finally the image you had of your future with him was beginning to form and to you…it was beautiful.

word count: 2.5k+

pairing: 1980s!din djarin x f!reader

warnings: MINORS DNI, cussing, slight rough sex, breeding kink, female masturbation, biting.

This whiskey should have been the cause for this situation. Fuck you so badly wanted to blame it on that amber liquid, but there was not even a drop of it in your veins. No lasting effect of alcohol to explain this. You were in a drunken haze, watching as he stood at the foot of the bed, curling his hand around your bare ankle. Leaning back on your elbows, you tried to steady the erratic beating of your heart to appease the blinding need in your body.

You wouldn’t survive him. You knew that the second you laid eyes on him, but oh what a glorious death it would be. Killed by the look of love that seared into your skin, by the tender way he held your body and the even softer words he called you.

“Sweetheart,” he called to you gently, his thumb rubbing into the skin of your calf.

“Yes?” The word was a breath of air exhaled on your lips. You weren’t even sure he heard you clearly.

The flash of lust in his eyes confirmed that he did—that he liked how quickly he was able to rile you up. You had half a mind to leave him hanging, but his palm sliding up your bare leg froze your thoughts. He stopped at the very edge of your skirt, never moving an inch more. It was maddening. He was maddening.

“Did I tell you how beautiful you are tonight?”

Your heart fluttered in your chest. Just when you think he couldn’t make you fall in love with him anymore, he goes and says something like that.

“I don’t think you did,” you teased, stretching your leg out even further until your foot dangled off his shoulder. “How will you make it up to me Romeo?”

A devilish smile crossed his lips, his eyes darkening even further as his palm slid up underneath your skirt. His fingertips tracing right below the very edge of the black lace underwear he’d seen you slip on earlier. There was no weight to his touch. Nothing that you could hopefully push yourself onto and that unnerved you more than his smile did. He kissed your ankle, mouthing at it and sharply biting down, causing you to shudder. You knew he liked toying with you. That was part of the reason why you became so pliant when he held you like this.

“Don’t tease,” you said.

He wanted to play his game of seduction—like always—then you’d one up him at his own game. You’d done it before. Always finding ways to make him snap. It’s like he took pleasure in making himself wait, in allowing you to take what you wanted until he said no more.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Oh…so he really wanted to play. Smiling sweetly at him, you reached for the hem of your skirt and yanked it upwards until the entire piece of fabric was wrapped around your waist. You never gained satisfaction quite like watching Din falter when you gained the upper hand on him. Was he really expecting you to lay on this bed fully clothed? 

The sight of your glistening pussy was on complete display for him, your slick practically dripping down your inner thighs, and you audibly heard him take in a shuddered breath. Yeah…there was nothing quite like this. His eyes were a near pitch black, the grip on your leg was nearing the point of pain, and you had never been more content in your life. He wanted to play. So…you played. From the looks of his demeanor, you ultimately won in the end, but he was just getting started.

“When did you take them off?” he demanded. His tongue peeked out to lick at his bottom lip as if he was already relishing in the taste of you before he got to the real thing. You wouldn’t be surprised if he had it committed to memory by now.

You smirked, reaching down and spreading yourself for him with two fingers. “Remember when you threatened to take me upstairs and bend me over the kitchen table after seeing this skirt?”

He exhaled a shuddered breath. “The bar wasn’t even open yet.”

“Yeah,” you sighed, sliding a finger along your pussy, gathering enough slick and dragging it back up to your clit where you circled it lightly, moaning at the tingles that spread up your spine. “I know.”

Din let you touch yourself for as long as he could handle it. His eyes trained on the steady rhythm of your fingers, but you could see his control break off piece by piece with every moan you let out. You never understood why the fuck he wanted to torture himself this much. You just never chose to question him. However he found pleasure in you, with you, because of you, did not matter to you. As long as he dragged you off that precipice of pleasure right along with him.

“Do you want a taste?” you asked breathlessly, pressing one finger into your pussy, groaning at the relief that flooded your body.

“Yes.” His voice was rough, fingers gripping your calf so tight you would absolutely be tender there tomorrow.

Smiling, you locked eyes with him, bringing up your now shiny wet fingers to your lips. “Too bad.”

You were sure if you listened hard enough you would be able to hear his control sever in two the second you sucked your fingers into your mouth, groaning at the taste of yourself. But you were so focused on prolonging his torture that you didn’t see him reach for the buckle of his best. He yanked your other leg up over his shoulder and a gasp tore from your throat as you scrambled to grab a hold of him.

“You’re a goddamn tease,” he muttered, helping you drag the shirt and bra from your body, your hands clamoring to rip his shirt off as well. “Wearing this skirt to rile me up and going bare underneath it.”

“Din.” You were whimpering at this point, digging your nails into his shoulders. Fuck, you didn’t even care that you sounded cockdrunk before he even slid inside you. You didn’t give a single shit, because he was caging you against the bed, nearly bending you in half as he slid his cock through the lips of your pussy.

“I should have bent you over that fucking table.” The head of his cock bumped against your clit, causing a pathetic noise to fall from your lips. “You’d have looked so pretty leaking my cum all night.”

“Fuck!” you cried, digging your hands into his hair and yanking him forward until his lips slotted against yours. “Please fuck me. Please Din.”

He groaned, his tongue sliding against yours hotly and tasting the tangy flavor of you off your own tongue. “I’ve got you sweetheart. I’ve got you.”

Both of you gasped into each other’s mouths as his cock slid into you with ease. You were practically dripping onto the bed sheets. He grunted when your walls fluttered, clamping around his cock so tight he had to bite against your neck to stop himself from coming undone. Meanwhile you fared no better. You’d been on edge all night, imagining the different ways you’d finally get to have him once the last customer left the bar. It got to a point where even a slight brush of his hand against yours riled you up.

Except now he was finally inside of you, slowly rocking his hips and testing to see if you were ready for him to move. You were ready five fucking minutes ago. Hell you were ready the second you saw him tonight. Cupping his cheek, you dragged his lips back to yours, your saccharine moan being swallowed by his tongue delving into your mouth.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, pulling away and running a thumb along your bottom lip—spreading your combined spit along the already smudged lipstick you wore.

You smiled, taking his thumb into your mouth and swirling your tongue around it until you released it with a pop. “So are you Romeo.”

“I like you like this.”

You hummed, your walls contracting around his cock, dragging a grunt from him. “Like what?”

“Filthy for me.”

Even with your legs up on his shoulders and his cock buried so deep you swore you’d feel him for days, he still managed to make your entire being buzz with something stronger than pleasure. You never could quite figure out what that feeling was, but you never complained. For fear of one day losing it.

“Only for you,” you emphasized, pressing your own thumb into his mouth and sighing as he mimicked your actions from before.

Pulling away, he dug one hand into the sheets beside your head, the other gripping onto your upper thigh. He began to move. Not in the soft reverent way he usually made love to you, nor in the heated passionate way. No, this was different. This was depraved, desperate. He thrusted into you with enough force to almost shove you up the bed and you begged him for more. Crying into his mouth, you raked your nails down his chest as he rammed his cock into you, searching for that perfect angle that would break you into pieces.

“Only for me?” he panted, cupping your breast in one hand and thumbing at your hardened nipple. “You’re mine.”

You nodded, keening when the head of his cock hit right where you needed. He flashed a smile your way, pressing into your more and somehow sliding in an inch deeper. You could feel him everywhere and yet it still wasn’t enough. Gasping, you tried to form coherent words to tell him that you wanted it faster, harder, but he understood you well enough. Snapping his hips forward, he watched your mouth drop open, spit trailing down the side of your cheek as you cried out his name.

“My good girl.” Another sharp thrust against your g-spot tore a wail from your chest. You wouldn’t have been able to speak, you knew that now. “‘M gonna fuck a baby into you.” His words were slurred, the pleasure numbing his brain, but you felt your walls bear down on him, your body going taut.

“Oh fuck,” you managed to choke out, your eyes meeting his as the realization clicked in both your brains. Neither of you were upset with what he just said.

“Yeah?” he breathed. “You want that?” He sped up, the pleasure mounting in your body to an indescribable amount. “You want me to give you a baby sweetheart?”

Without hesitation, he slid his hand between your bodies, swirling his thumb around your clit with practiced ease. Your eyes rolled back, body arching as the white-hot bliss you’d been craving began to seep through your veins. You were right here. He knew you would break at any moment if the way he sped up his thrusts were anything to go by. 

Sobbing his name, you dug your nails into his wrist, keeping his fingers where they were. Tears trailed down your temple and it caused a growl to echo around the room.

“Please!” You knew it wasn’t possible, knew that you were taking birth control consistently, but just the thought of him breeding you sent you into a dizzying high you’d never experienced before.

“Shit,” he groaned, forehead pressing against yours. “Fuck baby I need you to cum.” Din always made sure that you finished long before he did, but you saw the way he was straining against finally letting go. He was fighting his own pleasure to give you yours and that sent what felt like a bolt of lightning up your spine.

Once, twice, three times he circled your clit with enough pressure to snap the pressure in your body in two, causing a flood of mind numbing bliss to spread through you. The sound of your slick, of his cock and the slap of skin against skin was drowned out as a humming took over your ears. He fell over you with a broken moan, your legs shaking and head digging into the pillow beneath you. It was too much. You couldn’t think, speak, let alone move, because you were trapped in the waves of never ending bliss.

His thrusts became erratic as he chased his own release. It took you a few moments for you to realize that you were chanting his name—crying it out like a damn prayer.

Twisting your fingers into his hair, you caught his lips in a kiss, pleading with him to finally let go, for him to fill you up. 

“Give it to me baby.” He gasped against your lips, his eyes opening to meet yours. “I’ll keep it in me until it takes,” you breathed, biting at his bottom lip and sucking it into your mouth.

“Fuck. Oh fuck sweetheart.”

He shattered with a cry of your name, his head falling into the crook of your neck—teeth digging into the skin there. It would be tender later, but for now you relished in the feeling of his cock spurting into you, filling you up until it leaked out and around his cock. Clenching your walls, you stimulated him even more, dragging him underneath the waves of pleasure and watching him fall apart further.

You weren’t sure how long you laid there catching your breath, but eventually he moved. Dropping your legs off his shoulders with a kiss, he pulled out you gently, hissing at the feel of your walls trying to keep him inside. You longed for the press of his warmth against your body. Only you couldn’t speak let alone move. You felt sluggish, unable to do anything more than lie there, waiting for him to return.

Which he did. A glass of water was placed on the nightstand, your skirt was taken off fully, and a pillow was shoved underneath your hips, propping you up. That made your eyes fly open.

“What are you doing?” you asked with a fucked out smile.

Din dropped onto the bed, curling around your body. “Making sure it takes.”

Your stomach fluttered at the thought. “You were serious?”

“I want to have a family with you sweetheart.” Fuck, you had never wanted to go again so fast in your life. “I’ll wait as long as you want, but I’m letting you know now.”

“Okay,” you whispered.

“Okay?”

Nodding, you pressed your lips to his in a kiss so tender it made your toes curl. “I want that too. A family…with you.”

He smiled. So bright that you could feel your chest seize up from the joy that ran through you. You hadn’t seen him smile this big since Liv’s wedding day—the same day you finally answered a question he never thought he’d ask anyone. You knew you wanted this with him more than anything else. 

Finally the image you had of your future with him was beginning to form and to you…it was beautiful.

[im-poe-dameron]

CHAPTER ELEVEN

a/n: so......it hasn't been that long since chapter ten has it? i swear i meant to pop the last four chapters out before my last semester ended. But between the chaos in my life growing each month, and my last year of college I kind of forgot about this story altogether. To be entirely honest i didn't intend on finishing it. Except here I am now on winter break and ready to finish! I swear. I won't vanish again. I have plotted out the remainder of this story and am writing chapter twelve as i post this. So the story will have an end. I swear.

I just want to say a big ass fucking THANK YOU to those who left comments on the last chapter. I literally have so many of them screenshotted and saved on my phone to re-read on bad days and that's why I'm finishing this fic. Cause i love you guys.

Also a massive thank you to @apascalrascal who beta read this chapter and to @caesaryoulater who also read it through and told me she loved it. And a special thanks to @themarcusmoreno who continues to be my enabler for everything and anything. This series included. I couldn't have done it without you guys. I think that's it! So without further ado, please enjoy this tension filled chapter of a dinner with friends.

summary: "come to dinner" poe said, "it'll be great" poe said. what a fucking liar.

word count: 10.3k+

pairing: 1980s!din djarin x fem!reader

warnings: slightly explicit (we'll get there guys), cussing, angst, fluff, lots of apologies, alcohol consumption, dry humping, poe dameron losing his will to live, poe dameron's sanity being tested, sexual tension, yelling, and some horrible attempts at comedy.

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You knew he was there before even fully waking up. The warmth of his arm was pressed into your waist, his breath hitting the back of your neck and causing the hair to stand up. At one point in the night the covers had been pushed down to the end of the bed—his body being the one thing that kept you warm. Yup…you knew he was there alright. So, why didn’t you get up? Why did you burrow further into his hold—smiling slightly as he pulled you closer, his nose pressing into your hair?

There was a term used for this kind of behavior and while you’d call it self inflicted torture, someone like Liv would have used something much stronger. It’s not like you didn’t want this. You did. Fuck, you wanted more than this. But the memories from last night were still fresh in your mind, playing on a twisted loop to remind you of what he did.

What you chose.

Except you could still feel the pressure of his lips against yours, the way he’d made your head spin…just like before. You wished you could simply forget. Yes, that would make things easier—in fact it would make you feel better. You would be able to look over everything he said to you, all the pain you were put through only to come to one conclusion. Living a life without Din Djarin, was not a life you wanted. Shit, it didn’t even seem like a life you could have. So, why couldn’t you forget?

The real reason was…you knew why. You were just too fucking afraid to say it out loud.

“I can hear you thinking,” he mumbled—the sound of his voice scaring you out of your worried state.

“How long have you been awake?”

A puff of air hit your neck, his raspy chuckle following it. “Long enough to know you’re panicking.”

“I’m not…panicking.” That was a lie—you were absolutely panicking.

Between his bar being turned into literal ash, his wounded state, and the fact that you had yet to discuss what you were, you felt as if your brain was halfway through running a 5k and you were barely at the starting line. What you really needed was time to breathe. Except the thought of leaving him again splintered what was left of your already broken heart. You were connected to him—beyond what the both of you could comprehend and that’s why you stayed.

You wanted to be there.

Turning, you kept your eyes shut until you felt his arm settle back over your waist. If you didn’t look at him maybe things would be better. Maybe you wouldn’t feel like your entire world was shattered and put back together in only a manner of weeks. Maybe…you’d figure out how to finally let him back in. They were all things you had trouble with—aspects of your life you wished you could forget about. Only you couldn’t. Letting Din back in meant forgiving everything that happened and for the life of you…you couldn’t do it. You didn’t know why.

“Are you going to open your eyes for me sweetheart?”

No. The word rang in your head like an alarm bell, because you knew what would happen if you opened your eyes. You’d fall in love with him again and it would be easier than breathing; a fact that both excited you and left a thrill of fear streaking down your spine. You were terrified of letting him in again—terrified of what he’d do.

“I want to,” you whispered, eyes still squeezed shut as he ran a finger down your cheek, making you shiver. “Fuck I want you.”

“You have me.”

You felt like you were going to cry the longer you lay there wallowing in your own pain, but you needed this. More than he did. He dealt with his own pain by leaving and it took you until now to realize you never truly dealt with yours. You only shoved it to the side in the hopes that it would one day disappear like everything else you harbored. All the grief William put you through somehow amounted to all the pain Din put you through. Until one day…it combined and you could no longer discern who broke what piece of your heart.

“Do I?”

His hand cupped your cheek, tilting your head back until his nose was brushed against yours. “Sweetheart I’m yours till the day I die.”

Scoffing, you felt a tear fall down your cheek towards your nose. He caught it in time. “You shouldn’t joke about something that literally almost happened.”

“Too soon?”

You shoved his shoulder. “You think Romeo?”

“Fuck…I missed that,” he breathed, pressing his nose against your cheek, lips brushing against yours.

“I thought you hated that?” It was maddening to be so close to what you wanted, centimeters apart, and still so far away—lost to the labyrinth of your mind.

“I don’t care what you call me sweetheart. As long as it’s you who’s calling me it.”

There it was. The truth that had yet to be fully untangled from the web of your messy pasts and feelings. You’d love him through all of this; through all of the pain, because he would do the same. He’d love you until the stars died in the sky, until you were buried beneath the ground side by side—just as it was always meant to go. Fate had a funny way of twisting two people together and you were fucking glad it chose Din Djarin to be that person.

“Din,” you whispered, finally opening your eyes and meeting the brown eyes you couldn’t forget even if you tried. “Kiss me.”

The words were barely audible, a mere brush of air across his chin, but you knew he heard them as if they were shouted in his ear. Closing the gap, he pressed his lips against yours in a messy but overdue kiss. Last night didn’t count. Not when you were both in shock from what happened. No, this…this right here is what you’d call your reunion—a choice you both made in the early morning hours of the day.

You moaned softly into his mouth as his tongue slid against yours, hand digging into his hair to keep him close while his went to your hip. If there’s one conclusion you could come to after all of this it was this. Din Djarin kissed like he was running out of time. He devoured you like you’d be gone in a few seconds, forever lost to the ravages of time and knowing your reputation of the past month…he had good reason to. While he still tasted the same, you felt the difference in his hold and really everything about him.

This wasn’t him kissing you because you asked him.

This was him apologizing one more time, because when it came to Din…he’d never be able to say sorry enough times to feel okay with what his past amounted to.

So, you took all the pain and reflected it back to him. You moaned into the kiss—proving to him that this, him, is what you wanted. There wouldn’t be another choice for you; that much you were entirely sure of. His arm circled, your waist, tugging you closer and rolling onto his back dragging you with him. You still kissed him; still leaned further into his touch and licked fervently into his mouth. He shuddered as your nails dug into the nape of his neck; his hips bucking up into yours, bringing a smile to your lips.

“Eager,” you teased.

He pulled back, mouth opening to shoot back what would no doubt be an eviscerating comment, but all that came out was a deep broken groan. His head falling back into the pillow as you dropped your hips fully onto his—grinding your cunt along his clothed cock. Sex was off the table. The both of you knew this. But riling Din up drew a different kind of pleasure to your body, until you felt like you were floating as you watched him lose his mind.

“Fuck,” he rasped, eyes opening to reveal his once brown eyes now turned dark. “You’re going to kill me sweetheart.”

You shook your head, dragging your hips forward and gasping at the pressure. “Not exactly—oh—”

His hands splayed on your hips, guiding your movements as if you were actually riding him. If you imagined hard enough you could remember what it felt like to have him inside you—the stretch of him filling you completely until you were gasping for breath. Part of you wanted to have it back, beg him to fuck you into the mattress like he used to. But last night still happened and you weren’t so keen to forget about it. So, with a stuttered jolt of your hips, you stopped, shifting forward to kiss him languidly instead.

A soft moan was swallowed by him, his hand coming up to clutch the back of your neck gently—kissing you back. Only with him every kiss felt just as filthy as fucking him did. What started off slow and sweet became a mixture of spit, teeth, and tongues licking hotly into each other’s mouths, driving one another insane. You were shaking as he ran his hands down your back, the warmth of his palms seeping into your t-shirt covered skin. Fuck, you wanted more than just kissing him. You wanted all of it. The romance, the love, the sex.

You wanted him.

Except the tiny—almost minuscule—amount of doubt continued to ring in the back of your head.

The door to your bedroom opened swiftly and you jolted back, nipping sharply at his bottom lip enough to draw a small amount of blood.

“Breakfast is ready if you two are done fucking,” Liv said rushing down the hall before the pillow you threw could actually hit her in the face.

Din fell back onto the bed, his hands still on your hips as you remained on his lap. If you could locate your camera, you’d take a picture of this sight—placing it right beside the polaroid of him in the record shop. But after your breakup you gave it to Poe to keep, making sure that you didn’t have it around to break when you broke down again. The sunlight broke through your half opened curtains, casting a glow along his face, causing him to look ethereal. It was a wonder he truly didn’t see what you did—always shying away from the compliments you gave him.

“Are you hungry?” you asked, shifting to clamber—rather ungracefully—off his lap.

You didn’t catch the way his eyes opened, taking in your half bare form, his erection still pressing painfully along the tight confines of his jeans. “Yeah,” he murmured, the taste of you mixed with copper still stuck on his tongue.

“Liv makes some good pancakes.” You grabbed your own jeans, shoving them on to look at least semi-presentable.

When in reality you would much rather lock the door and ride your ex-boyfriend until he couldn’t think straight. Shaking your head you attempted to rid yourself of those thoughts. Liv would see them a mile away and you refused to give her the satisfaction of knowing you were so in love it hurt. You willed away the spark of heat that began to stir in your stomach that only seemed to grow the longer he stared at you from where he was sitting—half naked with dark eyes that kept you frozen in place. He looked at you like you were the most beautiful version of yourself. When merely you were sporting a messy look as you fought against the arousal burning low.

None of that mattered to him though.

You’d known that the second you finally set your heart on letting him in. He only wanted you—in whatever form you took, whatever way you looked—he would take it in a heartbeat.

“Stop looking at me like that,” you said, glancing away as he stood to his full height, moving forward to cup your chin. “It’s distracting.”

“Good,” he replied.

A swift kiss was pressed to your lips; a broken sound leaving your throat as he cemented the arousal in your mind—reminded you of what it felt like in the early days of being with him. It was hard to believe so much time had passed between the two of you. When in reality it felt like years had gone by in a blink of an eye. Leaning forward you pressed against his bare chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your palms as he continued to kiss you slowly…deeply.

“We have to…” Your eyes fluttered open to see him sporting a small smile on his face.

“Breakfast?”

“Yes,” you breathed. “Yes we have to do that.”

“C’mon sweetheart.” He slipped his singed shirt back on, his eyes glancing at the burned spot on the corner of it.

You knew it would take time to recover from what happened for the both of you. His bar was his home; the one place he felt completely safe, and now it was gone in the blink of an eye. Going back to it would be a difficult feat in itself. One you’d done before him, and one you’d be glad to help him in accomplishing.

The kitchen smelled like pancakes and coffee; the scent filling your nose when you walked out. Liv was pouring a cup of coffee as surprisingly Poe cooked eggs with Finn watching over his shoulder—most likely to make sure he didn’t burn them. You hadn’t expected them to show up here, but knowing the debacle from last night, they probably had nowhere else to go. The door swung open, Paz traipsing in behind the woman you recognized as his girlfriend. He carried a grocery bag overflowing with food, her hands holding onto a different paper bag.

“Djarin!” he exclaimed, dropping the groceries unceremoniously on the counter, not bothering to see if they stayed upright. “We stopped by the bar.”

Just the mere mention of it caused Din to sit up a little straighter from where he was at the table, a cup of black coffee in front of him. “The damage?”

“Extreme.” Paz snatched a pancake off the plate in front of Liv. “The bottom half is burned to a crisp, but we managed to carefully get inside and your apartment didn’t take the brunt of the damage.”

“So all his stuff is still there?” you asked. If his place wasn’t burned entirely that means he still had his belongings, at least half of a home. You figured that was ten times better than no home at all.

The woman nodded. “Well…for the most part. The kitchen took the majority of the damage.”

“I can live with that,” Din said, glancing at you.

“This is Thyra by the way,” Paz replied, gesturing at her. “She’s been a part of us since the beginning.”

All the times you’d been to the bar and seen there, you couldn’t believe you’d never officially met her before. She was beautiful, standing tall in her heeled boots and long dark hair that draped over her shoulder in a braid. The symbol on her leather jacket was one you’d seen before; the sign of a Mandalorian—or at least that’s what Din told you before everything happened. Smiling, you stuck out your hand. If she was a part of the family that Din made for himself then you would welcome her with open arms.

“I’ve seen you before at the bar,” you said.

She nodded, her dark eyes practically sparkling. “It’s nice to finally meet you…sweetheart.”

Heat spread up your neck and into your cheeks, the hot coffee not helping even as you sipped at it. Had Din introduced you that way to everyone? Or was that merely the name they heard the most when it came to you? Her smile told you it was the latter, but her eyes told you something else and you weren’t sure what to believe. You felt his arm snake around your waist, the weight of it pressing lightly into your stomach as he pulled you closer to where he was sitting. Just that movement alone calmed the slight embarrassment that filled your veins. However, it did nothing to cease the racing of your heart. Thyra’s eyes flicked to him, a smile stretching across her lips as she no doubt teased him as well.

“Do me a favor,” she said, pointing her words at Din. “Don’t fuck it up or'dinii.”

Paz snorted. “You can’t expect that Thyra. Kaysh mirsh solus.”

“Copaani mirshmure'cye, vod?” Din retorted, his eyes narrowing.

You’d never heard him speak his language other than the few words he let slip here and there, but now it seemed he was more open in letting those he cared about see this side of him. A part that only his family saw. You wondered if this officially made you his family now, and that thought alone made your lips twist upwards into a small grin. Paz roared with laughter, his own retort missing you completely as he tried to rile Din up enough to fully go through with his words. Except you had no clue what they were saying.

“What does that mean?” you asked softly, bringing his gaze back to you.

He shook his head, turning so you stood between his spread legs. “He called me an idiot.”

Your eyebrows raised. “And what exactly did you say?”

“An old phrase.”

“Which is…”

Thyra was the one to answer your question as she took a seat, a plate of pancakes in her hand. “Basically saying: are you looking for a smack in the face.”

“All in good nature,” Paz said.

“No fighting in my kitchen please,” Liv finally spoke up, her expression still in disbelief at the sight of several bikers taking up space in the already small apartment.

Poe and Finn were having their own conversation, leaning against the counter as they ate—unfazed by the talk of Mandalorians in front of them. This is what you missed. Sure, you ached to be back in the bar—back behind the counter—but this…the gathering of friends and family was what you missed the most. It seemed that even without the bar you could make yourselves at home anywhere; only needing one another to make that new place your new home.

The smile on your face widened, a sigh leaving your body as Din nudged you slightly to bring your attention back to him. It didn’t take him long to see it. The contentment in your stance, the joy in your eyes, and his own lips were turning up slightly. The sight of you happy enough to elicit that same emotion from him. You had him with you again. Him and all that came with him and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“I missed this,” you said quietly enough for only Din to hear you.

“I missed you,” he replied, his hands pressing into your lower back.

Yeah…this just the way it is was perfect.

An hour later and you were helping Liv with the dishes as Din went through the bag Thyra brought from his apartment. Some clothes that didn’t take any damage, two extra pairs of boots, and what looked like a few picture frames that were hung up in the bar awhile ago. He must have moved them to his apartment before everything happened and you were about to ask him why when the door burst open again. Paz and Thyra had gone back to the bar to see what else they could salvage, leaving Poe and Finn to head back to their places.

Only to wind up back here.

Poe led in Finn, Rey, and Elora. He held a box in his hands, which he dropped by the couch beside Din.

“All the stuff you left at my place,” he said, snatching whatever was on the top before heading towards you. “And this.”

You smiled at the sight of the camera. “You took care of it.”

“Like you asked me to,” he replied. “I figured you’d want it back to take some more pictures.”

One look at Din searching through the box and you knew that you could take a million pictures of him, but it would never be enough to finally sear him into your mind. You weren’t even sure what it would take. But that wouldn’t stop you from trying—from capturing him on polaroid after polaroid, because now…you finally could. As if he could sense the way your eyes burned into his skin, he glanced up, his lips pulling up into a small grin. That apparently was enough to send your heart fluttering madly in your chest like a flurry of butterflies was passing through you.

“Thank you,” you said softly, pulling Poe into a hug. “I don’t know what I can do to repay you for how you’ve looked out for me after…everything.”

He shrugged. “You don’t have to pay me.”

“I feel like I should, given all the emotional distress.”

He’d been there from the start; watched you and Din grow as a couple only to see it fall to pieces. You and Din inadvertently tore apart a family that relied on the two of you to be together—a family you now called your own. Things still had to be resolved between the two of you; emotions had to be cleared and you knew it wouldn’t be the last time Din and you fought. But the heartbreak would be different then. All of it would be different, because you knew deep down that one way or another you’d find your way back to one another.

Just as the stars intended.

“Elora and I are hosting a dinner tonight,” Rey said. “Nothing big, but we’d like you and Din to come.”

You smiled, feeling another layer of anguish lift from your heart. “We’re there,” you replied. It may take some convincing to get Din there—only even you knew he would never truly say no to you. He never had before.

“It’s at Poe’s place.”

“Unfortunately,” he grumbled, reaching for the plate of cookies Elora had brought. “I don’t know why you couldn’t do it at your place.”

Elora came up behind Rey, resting her chin on her shoulder. “You’re the one with the bigger apartment flyboy.”

“That’s not my fault.”

Elora smiled. “Oh so it’s not your fault you only got it cause the previous tenant had a crush on you?”

“Technically happened before I even moved here.”

“Still counts.”

“You can’t blame me for being pretty sunflower.”

 She rolled her eyes, wrapping her arms loosely around Rey’s waist. “I’m not, because you are not the prettiest sunflower here.”

You  couldn’t stop the giggle from leaving your mouth, the moment of playful irritation between them now lost. You wondered when they met, how they met—all of them—in order to become the way they were now. Sure, they were friends. Anybody could see that. Except there was something between them—something you couldn’t quite discern—that made them family. An unbreakable bond that had been tested again and again only to finally realize at the end of the day that it couldn’t be broken; no matter how hard someone tried to destroy it.

“What time?” you asked.

“7:30,” Elora responded. “We’re cooking and for the recipe I’ve got planned it’s going to take some time.”

“Well if it’s anything like your cookies, it’s going to be delicious.” You couldn’t lie. If no one (including Din) were here, you’d have demolished those cookies in a fucking heartbeat and you could see by the look in her eyes—she knew it.

The conversation continued; their arguments never ceasing and you turned, catching Din’s eye as he shuffled through the box. A picture frame of him and his son sat on his lap—the smile on his face similar to that of Din from the past. You remembered the first time you saw him smile—truly smile—and the sight never left your mind. It stuck to you like glue, tattooing itself onto your skin, because even though he refused to believe it, Din Djarin was the most beautiful man you’d ever seen. You knew it the moment you walked into the bar and saw him for the first time and you absolutely knew it now.

Heading over to him, you plopped down onto the couch, leaning your head against his shoulder as he rested his chin against your head. It was comfortable having him here in your home like this. Merely sitting beside one another. Sure, the tension still remained and you were eighty percent certain that if no one was here you’d be riding him on the couch, but just doing this was nice too. In fact…you enjoyed it more. He didn’t say anything. You didn’t say anything. And all finally felt right in the world.

Sighing softly, you shut your eyes for a few brief moments, listening to the conversation in the apartment. It all sounded eerily similar to the bar and if you focused hard enough you may be able to smell the familiar scent of liquor, motor oil, and cigarettes. Fuck, you missed his place. You yearned to be back there, serving drinks and catching his gaze across the room as he stood behind the bartop. Eventually everything would end up back there—back where it all began—but now you were simply content to be here.

His fingers trailed along the back of your hand, twinging with your own as the cold press of his rings caused a shiver to go down your spine.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, rubbing his thumb along yours. “For everything.”

You didn’t have to stop yourself from smiling this time. “Careful Romeo. You keep apologizing and I won’t be able to get mad at you the next time we fight.”

He huffed, pressing his lips to your temple as they curved upwards. “That’s the idea sweetheart.”

“Yeah right.” Part of you knew the words you said were right. Except you could still feel the slight sting as a certain memory came back to your mind; forcing you to relive what should have been forgotten by now.

After all, he finally said it. He said he loved you. So why wasn’t that enough? Why were you still wracked with pain every time you wanted to finally give in and love him just as freely as you’d done before? Why…after all this time…were you terrified of being broken again? You knew he wasn’t William—far from it—but that didn’t stop the emotions from rising to the surface. Twisting your heart painfully in your chest as you contemplated what loving him again actually meant to the both of you.

“We’re going to dinner at Poe’s place tonight by the way.”

He shifted back, brown eyes meeting yours and as always your heart fluttered in your chest. “I don’t feel like—”

Pulling him down, you cut him off with a kiss. The conversations ceased to exist, the problems came to a stop, because it was just you and him in your little bubble. He sighed into your mouth, cupping the back of your neck and sliding his tongue along your bottom lip. Things couldn’t go further than this, you knew that, but it still felt euphoric to feel his lips against yours. To kiss him until the air rushed out your lungs and the taste of him was seared on your tongue.

“It wasn’t a question Romeo,” you breathed, slightly dizzy as he pulled away. Your eyes fluttered open and you swore you saw the brown of his pupils grow darker—lust clouding his expression.

“What time do we go?” he asked, relenting swiftly as his eyes zeroed in on you sucking your bottom lip into your mouth.

“7:30.”

He nodded, glancing at the old clock you’d bought at a thrift store in Massachusetts. The both of you had three hours to kill with nothing to do. Showing up to a friend’s dinner empty handed always turned out to be a bad idea in your opinion and it’s not like you could simply grab a bottle from the bar and bring it with you. The cooking abilities you had were limited to breakfast and possibly a nice one serving dinner.

“What’s going on in there?” He tapped your temple lightly, dragging your attention back to him.

While you had grown to read him like a book, he’d always been able to flip through the pages that made up who you were. You felt the faint beginnings of a smile form on your lips as you leaned back against him, your thoughts still spinning with what was happening. Everything occurred so fast you could barely keep up. Shit, you could barely keep up regardless, but with the fire and the feelings—you were trying to keep your head above water while navigating in the dark. You wondered if he could see that. Or if he even felt the same way.

“How’s your cooking skills Romeo?”

“Barely there.” Bringing your hand up to his mouth, he brushed his lips along your wrist. “Should I ask why?”

“It’s rude not to bring food when you’re invited somewhere.”

He chuckled, the sound burrowing deep in your chest, spreading towards the molten heat in your stomach. The control you had on yourself was wavering by the second and he wasn’t helping you in the slightest. Still…you didn’t pull your hand away. You let him press featherlight kisses to your wrist, down your forearm until he reached the juncture of your elbow and worked his way back. It felt nice—as if he was attempting to calm the thoughts in your mind without words.

When it came to Romeo, actions were his go to.

“I don’t think that applies to us, sweetheart.”

“Well it would be nice regardless,” you huffed.

Glancing at him you saw his eyebrows raise. “And who’s going to cook it?”

“I could—”

“No.”

“My cooking is not that bad.”

Another kiss was pressed to your wrist; this one firm. “I didn’t say that.”

“You implied it.”

He breathed out a laugh that was barely audible. “I did.”

“Djarin I swear—”

His teeth nipping sharply at your skin cut you off as you winced. “Don’t call me that.” He had shifted until his lips were pressed against your ear; the warmth of his breath caressing your cheek.

“Call you what?” You weren’t an idiot. You knew he heard the slight waver in your voice and you also knew…he liked it.

“Djarin,” he replied slowly. The bite in his tone wasn’t meant or even meant to scare you; it was rather to prove that he knew how your insides twisted at the sound and how your walls clenched around nothing. He was toying with you just as he had done before. “Everyone else calls me Djarin. You don’t.”

You smirked, tilting your head until his lips brushed against your cheek. “And here I thought you hated the name Romeo.”

“I never said that sweetheart.” If you moved another inch, his lips would be on yours again, and you never longed for something so much. “I’ll happily let you call me that.” He turned your head for you, the heat of his gaze digging into yours. “As long as you say Din when you scream.”

They were words whispered against your lips; barely audible to even you, but you heard them nonetheless. He was truly trying to fuck with you. Your eyes widened as the words settled into your mind—flashes of that very thing happening over and over again playing through your head. If he looked closely enough, he’d be able to see you reliving each one, and by the slight grin on his face…he knew. You opened your mouth, hoping to come up with a retort hot enough to have him squirming, but he’d officially done it. He’d fried your brain past the point of words let alone coherent thoughts.

“See you tonight lovebirds,” Elora’s voice broke the spell Din had you in, giving you a chance to gather yourself.

Din stood up before you were able to say anything back, saying a polite goodbye to Elora and heading to the kitchen. Still you remained on the couch, his words echoing in your mind as he went through your fridge. Really there was nothing in it—the thought of grocery shopping was further from your mind than it should have been. You could count on one hand what you bought this week and none of it could be used to cook anything.

“What do I cook?” you asked, walking into the kitchen to see him shut the door on a sparse fridge.

“Nothing.”

“Look I can—” Him grabbing his jacket and the keys to his car cut you off. “Leaving me already Romeo?”

The phrase was meant to be harmless—a joke, but seeing him tense, his hand clutching at his keys, made you want to take it back. Fuck. Things were still on edge between the two of you and while he’d apologized through the night, more times than you could count, that didn’t stop the restlessness in your body. It didn’t cease the ache in your chest that refused to fade.

“Bad choice of words,” you said, starting to ramble. “I’m sorry I should have said can I come with you…” Why the fuck were you still talking? He must have known it was a joke…right? He turned around as you apologized for the second time, his eyes bright and yet twisted with a grief he couldn’t yet share with you.

“Sweetheart.” You clamped your mouth shut. “I love you.”

Those words…they would never cease to make your heart flutter, to make you heat up from head to toe until you were sure you’d melt onto the floor.

Smiling, you felt the worries lift off your chest, giving you a chance to breathe again. “I love you too Romeo.”

He stepped forward, gripping your chin lightly and pressed a chaste kiss to your lips before backing away towards the door. You didn’t ask him where he was going, didn’t need to, because he’d come back eventually. So, you busied yourself with cleaning up the kitchen—hoping it would throw off your mind from flooding with every manner of filthy thoughts. All of them with Din as the star of the show.

Sure, the words were carved into your skin like a wound that was taking it’s fucking time healing, but that didn’t stop you from wanting him. Only…wanting him is what got you into this mess. You two rushed into a relationship of sorts faster than you should have and before you got to know one another. Now you were doing things the right way. Which continually left you feeling like you’d combust if he looked at you too long.

“Fuck,” you muttered, nearly slicing your finger open on the soapy butter knife. “I need to get laid.”

“Where did you get this?” you asked, eyeing the wooden box that sat in the middle of your living room.

Din walked in an hour after you finished the dishes, carrying a box that looked eerily similar to the ones you used to see at the bar. Only the bar and all the alcohol that remained was burned. Which left you wondering who he paid off to get him this stuff. He cracked it open, pulling out a bottle of whiskey that was immediately familiar to you. The same one that sat empty on the shelf in your bedroom—now a piece of decor—the very same one that still held those charred bills the both of you refused to touch.

“Supplier,” he replied. “He owed me a favor.”

You nodded, knowing it was better not to question his methods. “Tell him thank you from me.”

Handing off the bottle to you, he watched as you placed it on the bookshelf near the television. Right beside a framed picture of you and him that Liv sneaked one night when she visited the bar for the first time. It was two months ago and even in the image you could see how much Din cared for you. The glint in his eye transferred to the glossy paper. You were standing behind the bar, a bottle in your hand as you poured gin into a glass; he leaned next to you, watching you with a smile on his face. You didn’t see her take the picture, never even saw the flash go off, but you thanked her for it every time you glanced in its direction.

“How many bottles are we taking?”

He lifted two out of the crate, setting it down next to the brownies you managed not to burn. “Think that will be enough?”

The way your friends drank, the two bottles would be gone before dinner was even served. Still you nodded, heading towards the bedroom to throw on the sundress you laid out earlier. The weather was becoming warm again; the cold was now vanishing slowly and while you were going to miss it—that didn’t deter you from wearing the oversized leather jacket that was thrown on the chair.

“Thankfully Rey and Elora are cooking,” you called, trying not to trip as you attempted to latch the platform sandals closed. “Poe’s good at making drinks, but I’ve seen him cook and I can definitely say I am bett…”

You trailed off as you walked back to where Din stood, catching the heady look in his eyes. They trailed down your body past the skirt of your dress all the way down to your feet, dragging upwards just as slowly. All the time you spent shoving down the burning heat that built up in your stomach vanished. It rushed through your veins, turning your skin warm as he simply watched you. Before everything, before the pain, he would have simply stated you weren’t going, taking you to bed without any complaints. But now…he waited, held his stance and breathed heavily as his gaze settled on yours.

He knew you weren’t ready for that and this was him respecting that wish. He wouldn’t touch you. Not until you were absolutely sure about him again; until you could finally open your heart to him.

For some unknown fucking reason, that made you want him even more.

Fuck your hormones. They waged a war within your body—turning you into a wilting mess even though he had yet to lay a finger on you.

“Do you like the dress?” you asked.

He grunted in response, turning back to the box, his hands clenching as you walked past him.

Poe’s place was thankfully not far from your own apartment. In a way, you were thankful for the short amount of time you’d have to spend in Romeo’s car, alone with him. You figured it was better that you keep your distance from each other, given how your reputation for holding off on jumping one another was all but disappointing. The next two weeks would be ruthless. What with you helping Liv with the last minute details of the wedding. Thankfully it would keep you busy.

You had yet to confront that one nagging question in the back of your mind. One you were truthfully terrified to even go near, because the answer would determine how you’d feel the next few weeks.

The silence felt comfortable with him—the radio playing the latest songs and the windows rolled down as he took the streets to Poe’s place. People milled about on the streets outside. The city night life came back as the sun dipped beneath the skyline of buildings. You could recall being a part of this crowd, of bar hopping night after night; a time when you were the most lost with no way of finding yourself home. Somehow in the end it brought you to him; stuck you in the center of something beautiful and told you to remain where you were.

It didn’t take you long to figure out that that’s where you belonged in the first place.

“What’s going on in that head of yours?” he asked softly. The question was asked more frequently since he’d come back into your life—as if he was terrified of what your answer would be.

Ironic.

You were scared shitless of his own answer.

“I keep thinking…”

You noticed him stiffen in his seat, his left hand tightening on the wheel slightly until his knuckles turned white. He promised he wouldn’t lie to you, wouldn’t keep any secrets from you, and this was one of them. It’s not like he was trying hard to hide it. For the first time, Din was fucking terrified of what you’d say, and somehow it felt nice to come to that realization. Proof that you weren’t entirely alone in this situation.

“Nothing bad I hope,” he said, forcing a smile. But you saw the trepidation in his eyes, the waver in his voice.

He was worried you’d leave again.

That made your heart clench in your chest.

“Liv’s wedding is in two weeks,” you replied, keeping your eyes solely on his, finally reading his reactions as clearly as he read yours. 

He’d given you an insight into his mind, told you all his fears, his past, and somehow that opened him up to you in a whole new way. Before, you struggled to even figure out what he was thinking, but now…you knew. You could see it so clearly on his face he didn’t even bother to school his expressions anymore.

“I saw your calendar.” Ah, the one that was hanging up on your wall—Liv’s wedding date marked with a big red circle. “Are you worried about it?”

You shook your head. “I’m actually really excited. It’s been a long time coming and I know that she’s ready to finally get married. But I was thinking…” He sucked in a breath, the leather steering wheel crackling under his grip. You only had a small amount of time to get this question out in the open before heading up to Poe’s for dinner. “I was actually hoping…”

“Sweetheart you’re killing me here,” he groaned, eyes flashing with agony.

A smile crossed your lips as you leaned in closer. “Would you still like to be my date?”

The car fell silent, his eyes turning back to the road as he pulled up to Poe’s apartment building. Your heart lurched in your chest, fear filling your veins as you realized you might have made a mistake. Fuck, you knew you should have waited. All of it was too soon; that damn question was too soon and you let out a shaky breath, turning your head away from him as you blinked quickly to get rid of the oncoming tears. 

Please put me out of my misery Romeo, you thought in your head, desperate for him to say something—anything.

“Do you still want me as your date?” he asked.

Your head snapped back to his direction and you finally took in the utter defeat on his face. The pain in his eyes that he pushed away constantly, but you still saw it under the surface—saw how he fought against it. He hadn’t admitted it yet, but you saw it there in his face, heard it in his words loud and clear. He was afraid you still didn’t want him—that one day you’d wake up ready to run out the door and leave him behind.

“Of course I do,” you whispered. “Do you still want to…be with me?”

The question was a double edged sword and you were both dangerously walking on either side, trying to keep it balanced for the first time in a long time.

Did he want you beyond the heartbreak? Did he want to push past what you went through and find your equilibrium again—find the place you called home in this relationship.

His face fell as he took in your eyes glossy with unshed tears. “I want to be with you until the day I stop breathing sweetheart.”

“Oh—”

But he wasn’t done. Far from it.

Leaning closer, he cupped your face, twisting in his seat to finally bring his lips close to yours. “Yes I want to be your date to Liv’s wedding. Nothing would have stopped me from going. And yes…I want to be with you in any way you choose to have me. I’m yours baby. Till the end.”

You felt as if the weight pressing down on your chest was suddenly lifted; air filling your lungs with so much air it stung on the way down. Either way you relished in it, because you finally got your answer. Din wanted to be with you. He wanted you. Rather than kiss you on the lips, he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, sending a shiver down your spine. While the doubts from before began to fade the longer you were with him, you still knew that the both of you had a lot left to work through.

He still had a lot to tell you about who he was before he met you.

“Should we go get yelled at by Poe now?”

You laughed, nodding your head. “Yeah. I think we should.”

He opened his door after one more kiss to your forehead, and walked around to your side, swinging open your door and reaching for your hand. The both of you weren’t prepared for this dinner, but you didn’t really care. Not when Romeo’s hand fit perfectly in yours, his body pressing close to yours as he led you up the stairs of the building. You’d never actually been here before, but seeing how comfortable Din was with maneuvering through the halls, him being here before was in fact true.

The thought of him suffering through heartbreak here surrounded by people who actually cared about him made you feel even lighter.

He had a family that surrounded him—he just needed a good shake to make him realize that.

“This is him,” he said, stopping at a beige colored door with a gold number eight hanging on it.

You could faintly hear music coming from the inside, the echo of voices filtering through the obviously thin door. “No turning back Romeo.”

A grin pulled his lips upward. “Me? Never.”

“Yeah right.”

He leaned over nipping sharply at your ear and eliciting a yelp from you that was no doubt heard from inside. You were about halfway to shoving your fist into his shoulder when the door opened revealing Poe. Of course he had to catch you and Din in yet another slightly compromising position. Din’s lips were attached to your neck, your hand now pressing against his shoulder to steady yourself and you felt the heat creep up the back of your neck. For fucks sake you couldn’t catch a break.

“Please don’t taint my hallway,” Poe said, smirking at the sight of you trying to mask your obvious embarrassed expression.

“Shut up Dameron,” Din replied, his fingers trailing up your back.

Poe’s mouth dropped. “Listen if you’re going to be a dick I’m not even going to consider letting you back in—”

The door was pushed open even wider, revealing Elora in a stunning yellow floor length sundress. “Please. Come in. We just finished cooking.”

You ducked under Poe’s arm, leaving the two men to finish their standoff—the smell of delicious food calling your name. Placing one bottle of whiskey on the table, you took in Poe’s apartment. There was only one bedroom, a small enough kitchen, and a plant on the windowsill—the leaves slightly brown. Overall you’d say it was cozy. A home you could see Poe staying in for quite some time. 

Din came up behind you, his arms wrapping around your waist, chin dropping to your shoulder as he placed the second bottle right beside yours.

“It’s a nice place,” you said softly, seeing the living room that consisted of a black couch, a green chair, and a multicolored rug.

He hummed in agreement. “Would you like to live in a place like this?”

Just like in the car, your heart stopped at his words. “I would…one day,” you replied slowly. You weren’t stupid. You knew what he was asking of you, and that caused your insides to melt until you were sure you were a puddle on the floor.

“Hey lovebirds,” Poe called from where he sat at the table in the kitchen. “Dinner’s ready.”

You pulled away, heading towards the chair beside Finn who greeted you with a hug and a promise to talk later. You and him hadn’t really interacted much with him working nonstop at the record shop, but you wanted to get to know him just as much as Poe. Would he like to go out and get some coffee one of these days? Maybe you could invite Rey and Elora as well.

Din took the chair across from you, a small smile on his lips. You were partly grateful that he was seated with enough distance to keep your mind in order, but knowing him…he’d make sitting like this even worse for you. Here you could see his eyes. You still weren’t sure it was a good thing you could read him so clearly, because right now you knew what he was thinking of and none of it made for appropriate dinner party conversation.

“This smells delicious,” you said, eyeing the roast in the center of the table.

Elora smiled. “Thank you. It’s my dad’s recipe.”

The next few minutes were filled with a comfortable silence as each of you passed dishes around, filling up your plates and glasses with enough to satiate the hunger in your stomachs. You shifted in your seat as Din poured you a glass of whiskey, winking at you as he sucked off whatever fell onto his thumb. Fuck, he was truly trying to ruin you right here in the middle of dinner.

You refused to let him get the upper hand.

“So, how is the store going?” you asked Rey, sipping at the whiskey and avoiding Din’s gaze. Even as it burned into the side of your face.

“It’s going well. Lot’s of busy days with all the new music coming out.”

Finn turned to you, sipping on his own glass. “I managed to ask around and some music labels are willing to give us first take of most newer records coming out.”

“Really?” you asked. “That’s amazing!” Din’s foot brushed against yours, but you willed yourself to keep looking at Finn. “Do you work solely at the store or?”

“No, not anymore. I used to, but now it’s part time.”

Poe jumped in. “Don’t be humble man. Finn’s working his way up in the producer world. He’s got a real talent for it.”

“Ah well I’m trying to at least. I’m no you flyboy.” Finn said, smiling as Poe rolled his eyes.

“You never did tell me about your time as a pilot,” you said. “Were you there long?”

“There’s nothing special to tell sweetheart.” Something thumped under the table, causing Poe to wince. You turned to Din, seeing him swallow his whiskey innocently as he set his fork down, watching you with a glint in his eyes that had you shifting in your chair.

“Are you okay?” you asked, returning your attention to Poe.

You would not lose to Din. You’d won before and you could do it again.

“Yeah,” he bit out, shooting a glare Din’s way. “Just hit my knee against the table.”

That was bullshit—you didn’t miss the way Din’s lips quirked into a grin as he winked at you again. You had half a mind to drag him out into the hallway simply to ring his neck and the longer he toyed with you—sending you looks that no doubt had you dripping in your underwear—the closer you were to actually doing it. You knew what this was, why he was acting this way.

What you finally revealed in the car had opened the door even wider on the prospect of a relationship again and Din was doing his best to kick it the rest of the way down.

He was proving to you how much he wanted you.

Conversation continued around you as both you and Din held your very own silent talk. He smiled, leaning his elbows against the table and placing a piece of meat in his mouth—eyes flicking down to the cleavage your dress showed. Not one to be outdone at a game you’d mastered with him, you leaned forward yourself, reaching for the bowl of vegetables.

He swallowed so hard he started to cough.

“Are you okay?” you asked, innocently. Really you were preening under his heated gaze; his eyes narrowed at you as Poe thumped on his back.

“Yeah,” he croaked.

Grabbing the glass of water in front of him, he retained eye contact as he swallowed, your eyes glancing down to his throat. Suddenly you were reminded how much you loved the sight of it—how much you loved to mark it up with your teeth and lips. He set the glass down with enough force to shake the table slightly, his eyes burning a hole into your face with a need that you felt in the very marrow of your bones.

Fuck how would you two make it long enough to talk out your issues when neither of you could control your impulses?

In your small staring contest, you didn’t seem to notice the others had stopped talking, their attention solely on you. Poe dropping his silverware and giving you a glare snapped you out of your reverie. He coughed, downing his glass of whiskey and pouring another one—laughing to himself about something. Seeing him this way slightly scared you in all honesty. What had you and Din done wrong? You felt like you were about to be reprimanded by your parents for doing something bad at the dinner table.

This wasn’t entirely far from the truth though.

“Poe?” you asked hesitantly.

“Unbelievable.”

“Dameron,” Din said a little harshly, even you winced.

“Don’t you Dameron me you dick.” Poe downed the second glass of whiskey. “You promised me that you’d fix it, that things would change once you got her back.”

You reared back, your eyes no doubt as wide as saucers. “What is he talking about Din?”

“I’m not going to explain myself to you,” Din replied smoothly, setting his glass down as Poe continued to glare at him with enough anger that you were sure Din would be six feet under had Poe been holding a weapon.

You had half a mind to take away the knife beside his right hand.

“No?” Poe began to laugh, his expression scaring the absolute shit out of you. So much so that you started to reach for him only to have Finn stop you. “You don’t want to explain yourself when I let you stay here? When it was me and Finn and Rey and Elora who made sure you didn’t kill yourself with alcohol poisoning?” You winced, feeling your heart twist violently in your chest, but Poe was far from being done. “I can’t believe you two haven’t figured out your issues yet and that you’re still playing this cat and mouse game.”

“Poe—” you started.

“And you.” He averted his glare to you. “I know you’re scared of being with him again, but fucking hell sweetheart—” He turned to Din. “You kick me again for calling her that and I’m going to put my knife in your foot.” Once again his eyes were back on you. “You are so in love with him it’s actually sickening to see it with my own two eyes. I swear if you don’t figure out your shit, the next time I see you I’m locking you two in a room together.”

“Poe—”

“Don’t Poe me. I’ve had to endure listening to you two fuck in so many different places I have actual nightmares about it now, but you know what. I will sacrifice myself one more time and risk hearing you two get it on if it means you will stop eye fucking each other at my table while I’m trying to eat.”

With a final glare in both your directions, he resumed eating his dinner as if nothing interesting happened. As if he hadn’t just shook you and Din so hard with his words that it jarred you out of your fearful states. Were you inevitably going to end up with Din? Yes. You knew this with everything in your being. What you didn’t know was why you were stalling to get to your happily ever after.

Why were you two so hesitant to jump in like you’d done before?

It wasn’t the heartbreak, because if anything that simply made the both of you stronger. So what kept you back? You tried to wrack your brain for any type of answer and could only come up with one that sounded the most reasonable. You were both so terrified of being hurt again that you held off on actually experiencing that happiness you once had again. Maybe that’s what hurt the most. Neither of you could remember what that feeling of pure bliss in a relationship felt like.

Your apartment door shut with a resounded thud, shutting out the rest of the world until it was just you and Din standing in your kitchen. The dinner had gone smoothly enough after Poe’s reprimanding. You laughed until you couldn’t breathe, reminisced on times at the bar, and felt like you gained three new friends. Poe had calmed down after his third glass of whiskey, but his words still rang loudly in your head.

“That was some night huh,” you said, pulling your heels off and settling on the couch.

He collapsed beside you with a sigh. “I feel like I just got yelled at by a teacher.”

“I’m glad I’m not the only one.” Din’s hand reached for yours, his fingers intertwining with your own. “He was right, you know,” you said softly.

“He shouldn’t have yelled at you.”

“No,” you smiled. “I mean he was right about us.” Din froze, his eyes holding you in a gaze you had no intention of running from. Not this time. “I think we were so lost in our own pain and so focused on finding a way back to each other, that we never figured out a way to find our way back to ourselves.”

He lifted your hand, kissing the back of it just as he had done earlier in the day. A small sign of reassurance—a way to calm your aching heart—and it worked like a charm. You knew without a doubt in your mind, you wanted to be with Din, but you also knew…you had no idea who you were without him. The memory of you being single, being happy and free, had vanished to the very back of your mind.

“So where does that leave us?” he asked, brown eyes delving into yours.

Exhaling, you felt your heart twist. “Maybe…” Fuck you didn’t want to do this. “Maybe we should take these two weeks to try and remember who we are.”

“I’m not leaving you.” He said the words quicker than he could take a breath. Just hearing that managed to calm the racing of your heart, the worries that plagued your mind.

“I don’t want you to.”

“But…”

“But I don’t want you to forget who Din is, who you used to be before me. The bartender who I fell in love with. And I don’t want to forget who I was. I went from one relationship right into the next without ever figuring out who I had shaped up to be. I’d like to meet her.”

He nodded, leaning his forehead against yours. “I’ll do whatever you want sweetheart. I’d do anything to make this work.”

“There’s going to be some ground rules,” you said with a smile, enjoying the slight shift of annoyance on his face.

“Okay…”

“No kissing.” His lips slotted over yours, stealing the breath from your lungs. “Din,” you gasped, pulling away.

He sighed. “You really are trying to kill me.”

“Listen Romeo. You and I both know we can barely keep our hands to ourselves long enough to actually talk and I think we need to start agreeing to be friends before we jump back into a long term relationship.” You tried to maintain your composure, the seriousness in your voice bringing a smile to his face. What did you say that was funny? “And you’re smiling because…”

“You’re hot when you’re bossy.”

“Fuck you Din.” You shoved his shoulder.

“I’m listening,” he replied, pressing his nose to your cheek. “I swear. What are the other rules?”

“What happened tonight at dinner will not be happening again. No teasing okay? We have to at least try.”

“I can’t promise that.”

You huffed. “Din.”

“I’ll do it…for you.” He pressed another kiss to your hand. “Two weeks?”

Nodding, you figured the timeline matched up perfectly. Liv’s wedding would just be the time to hit reboot on your relationship. For two weeks you’d be friends again and begin to formulate a relationship that wasn’t based solely on need and sex. No, this one would be based on love—something you were looking forward to.

“Two weeks,” you responded, reaching your hand out to shake on it.

He dragged you forward by the nape of your neck instead, pressing his lips to yours and licking into your parted mouth as you gasped. He tasted like whiskey and you sighed into the kiss, digging a hand into his hair in order to keep him closer. Sure, it was going against the already set rules, but if you were going two weeks cold turkey…you needed a quick reminder of what you were working towards again. You moaned when he nipped at your lip, licking along it to soothe the ache before pulling away entirely—a flushed look on his face.

“Deal,” he breathed, standing up from the couch with one last look, leaving you there to sit on the couch.

Two weeks…of being friends with Din.

You were fucked.

[dan6085]

The "Star Wars" franchise has a rich history spanning movies, television series, books, comics, and more. Here's a timeline of significant events and developments in the Star Wars universe:

1. **1977: A New Hope (Episode IV)** - The original Star Wars film directed by George Lucas is released. It introduces audiences to a galaxy in turmoil, with the Rebel Alliance fighting against the tyrannical Galactic Empire. This film marks the beginning of the Star Wars saga.

2. **1980: The Empire Strikes Back (Episode V)** - The sequel deepens the story, revealing Darth Vader's true identity as Anakin Skywalker and the Rebel Alliance's struggles against the Empire. It also introduces Yoda and expands the Force's concept.

3. **1983: Return of the Jedi (Episode VI)** - The original trilogy concludes with the defeat of Emperor Palpatine and Darth Vader's redemption. The Rebel Alliance celebrates the fall of the Empire, and Anakin Skywalker returns as a Force spirit.

4. **1991: Heir to the Empire** - Timothy Zahn's novel introduces the Expanded Universe (now known as Legends), setting the stage for a vast array of Star Wars novels and comics. This book features the enigmatic character Thrawn.

5. **1999: The Phantom Menace (Episode I)** - George Lucas returns to the big screen with the prequel trilogy, exploring the rise of Darth Vader. Episode I introduces characters like Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi, and Padmé Amidala.

6. **2002: Attack of the Clones (Episode II)** - The prequel trilogy continues with the growth of the Clone Wars, and Anakin's journey towards the dark side intensifies.

7. **2005: Revenge of the Sith (Episode III)** - The prequel trilogy concludes with Anakin Skywalker's transformation into Darth Vader and the fall of the Jedi Order. Palpatine solidifies his control over the galaxy.

8. **2008: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (Animated Series)** - This animated series adds depth to the Clone Wars era and introduces fan-favorite characters like Ahsoka Tano. It also expands the lore of the Force and the galaxy.

9. **2012: Disney Acquires Lucasfilm** - Disney purchases Lucasfilm, paving the way for a new era of Star Wars storytelling.

10. **2015: The Force Awakens (Episode VII)** - Disney's sequel trilogy begins with new characters like Rey, Finn, and Kylo Ren, while also featuring classic characters like Han Solo and Princess Leia. The First Order rises from the ashes of the Empire.

11. **2016: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story** - This standalone film explores the Rebel mission to steal the Death Star plans, providing crucial backstory to the original trilogy.

12. **2017: The Last Jedi (Episode VIII)** - The sequel trilogy continues, challenging traditional Star Wars themes and character arcs. Rey's parentage is a central focus, and the Resistance faces dire straits.

13. **2019: The Rise of Skywalker (Episode IX)** - The sequel trilogy concludes with the final battle against Emperor Palpatine's return. The Force is explored in new ways, and the saga ends with the potential for new adventures.

14. **2019: The Mandalorian (Disney+ Series)** - This series introduces the Mandalorian, Din Djarin, and the adorable Grogu (Baby Yoda). It explores the post-Empire galaxy and the remnants of Imperial rule.

15. **2020: The Clone Wars (Final Season)** - The animated series returns for its final season, concluding story arcs and offering closure to characters like Ahsoka Tano and Darth Maul.

16. **2021: The Bad Batch (Animated Series)** - This series follows the adventures of Clone Force 99, a group of unique clones, in the aftermath of the Clone Wars.

17. **2023: Upcoming Projects** - Disney continues to expand the Star Wars universe with upcoming projects, including new series like "Obi-Wan Kenobi" and "Ahsoka," as well as films and more.

The Star Wars timeline showcases how this franchise has evolved, introducing new generations of fans to its captivating characters and timeless themes of good versus evil, redemption, and the power of the Force.

[means1974]

Luke Skywalker on Hoth by Ralph McQuarrie

[the-purity-pen]

1980s Din Djarin from @im-poe-dameron‘s Black Velvet

Adobe Photoshop & Adobe Fresco

Please do not redistribute without permission or appropriate credit. Reblogging is fine.

[dinandgone]

Fic Recommendations:

Hi 👋, seen as I’ve inadvertently taken a little writing break to do some art I thought I’d post some of my thoughts and fic recommendations from writers which I am absolutely loving at the moment, so please go and show them the love they deserve! 🥰

Quick disclaimer : Most of these fics are 18+ so if you are a child please turn around and go back from whence you came thank you. Individual warnings are on the fics themselves 

Lay it on me (series)~ Javier Peña x fem!reader by @queenofthefaceless                          - all of their fics are top tier but this fic writes Javi so well and if you want a rollercoaster of emotions then this is perfect. You can find their main masterlist here 

The Nomad (Series)~ Mando x fem!Reader by @clints-lucky-arrow           - I ABSOLUTELY LOVE this fic. It explores the reader of a character type I haven’t really read on here before. Not to mention Mack is the         sweetest and I have her to thank for me deciding to continue writing my fics. You can find her main masterlist here

Won’t you let me go down in my dreams, pt.2 ~ Frankie Morales x F!Reader by @charnelhouse                                                          - Did this fic make me cry? Yes. Yes it did. The way they write Frankie’s insecurities is *chef’s kiss*. They also write some awesome Mando x  F!Reader fics which I’ll pop the masterlist for here

Strike me down ~ Pero Tovar x afab!reader by @foli-vora                           -this fic is definitely 18+ and I did need a moment of silent reflection and prayer after reading this because holy fuck is it HOT 🥵 . I will also place her main masterlist here. 

Mysticus ~ Ezra x afab!reader by @juletheghoul                                        - this is one of the best SoulmateAU’s I have read on here and the way she writes Ezra honestly makes my heart melt. You can find her masterlist here. 

Love is Blind ~ Agent Whiskey x F!Reader by @no-droids-on-sunday        - honestly it’s beautiful and I didn’t know I needed it until I read it. All I have to say is prepare for Soft!Whiskey. You can find her Masterlist  here 

Forever (is a long time) [Series] ~ Din Djarin x f!reader by @1800-fight-me - Another utterly fantastic Soulmate AU that I cannot get enough of, I binge read the whole thing in one afternoon, the way she writes Din is *chefs kiss* and I honestly can’t wait for this to update. You can find her masterlist here.

No body, No crime ~ Dave York x F!Reader by @mandoalorian               - this fic was the fic that threw me head first into the depths of the dark corner that is the Dave York pit. She writes Suburban murder Dad™ so well, and it will definitely leave you in need of some peaceful reflection       afterwards. You can find her full masterlist here. 

Black Velvet ~ Din Djarin x Fem!Reader by @moonlight-prose                  - I honestly didn’t know I needed 1980s biker Din Djarin in my life until I read this fic. It is so beautifully written how he doesn’t have his armour yet his hardened demeanour is still captured perfectly and yes its HOT. You can check out their masterlist here. 

Well that’s all for now folks but I think I’m going to make this a weekly thing, be sure to give these lovely writers all the love and attention they deserve 

[kanskje-kaffe]

@solipsism-lemonade!! thank you for tagging me! rules: tag 9 people you want to get to know better or catch up with + fav color: Peach + last song: End Will Come//Port Sulphur Band (it's one of my favorite Armorsoka songs!) + currently reading: The Sun Also Rises by Hemingway. No opinion yet because I haven't finished it but I love the concept of having a 'tennis friend'. + last movie: Ju-On (I watched all of Haunting of Hill House more recently but technically that's not a movie) with Witty and Mads and an RL friend - probably the perfect 'classic' horror movie experience because half of it was laughing, half of it was screaming, and our friend jumpscared us after the movie. + sweet, savory, or spicy: all three at once you small minded cowards >:)c + currently working on: Actively today, Clan of Four (Dinluke illustrated fic), and The Toolmaker's Arsenal (Armorsoka). But I'm also marinating on a much more challenging dissociating!Anakin oneshot that will probably turn out Rexwalker, and a BobaDinLuke 1980s AU. tagging nine of my little faves: @maderilien @stupidfatpenguin @withercrown @asiminthering @mari-wrongway @ace-din-djarin @leiainhoth @veradragonjedi @kevystel

template under the cut :)

fav color:

last song:

currently reading:

last movie:

sweet, savory, or spicy:

currently working on:

[moonlight-prose]

✧ MOONLIGHT'S RECORD COLLECTION ✧

note: i've compiled a list of all my playlists i've created so far whether their for fics or just for fun. they're all on spotify so feel free to save and blast them as loud as you want.

you can also find all the songs i recommend under #my record collection🌙

PLAYLISTS:

midnight margarita's & full moon wishes

sharpening your nails to rip his heart out

no i'm killing ✨boys✨

to be born is to have a soul, i guess

humid summer nights

in love with love

every bad situation is a blues song waiting to happen

surviving the end of the world

you're like a shot of espresso

i need a little fresh air and a latte

red stained lips, leather clad hips

you say witch like it's a bad thing

serving cunt on a sunday afternoon

rainy days in a dreamy haze

living room routine

running through castles & kissing vampires

FIC + CHARACTER PLAYLISTS:

black velvet | 1980s!din djarin

hurt | joel miller

never break the chain | din djarin jurassic park au

love is strange | mickey "fanboy" garcia

epiphanies in disguise | javier peña

turning pages | moon knight

badlands | bradley "rooster" bradshaw

lavender haze | jake "hangman" seresin

cruel summer | bradley "rooster" bradshaw

for the love of danger | miguel o'hara

torres has the aux cord

loki: a bitch with purpose

embers | cassian andor

diamonds are forever | jake lockley

silhouettes of love | frankie morales

red room tattoo parlor | natasha romanoff

daywalker | the batman

james' bucky' barnes

paper airplanes | bucky barnes

eternally yours | druig

mi amor, mi vida | javier peña

dazed and confused | 1980s!poe dameron

[im-poe-dameron]

Chapter Ten

a/n: i'm aliivveeeee. so it's been a long time since i've dropped a chapter for this fic, but finally i feel ready to finish up a story i started a year ago. i certainly didn't mean to go this long without updating. i think i was stalling on actually finishing it. in the plan i set out for this story awhile ago, i only set it up for fourteen chapters. so after this one i will begin wrapping up storylines and such in the last four parts, but for now please enjoy this one! (side note: i had this chapter planned long before tbobf came out but i managed to match it up with the timeline.) we're also changing pov for this one for a majority of it, so it might be a bit confusing at first. it's not beta read or edited fully so there will be mistakes!

again a huge ass THANK YOU to everyone still reading and still sticking around for these two leather dorks. they're nearly to their happily ever after i swear.

NOTE: I got rid of all of my tag lists besides the one for this fic. you can see updates of other fics at my sideblog @moonlights-library!

summary: just when you think things are okay, the past decides to keep old wounds open and a different path altogether begins to make more sense for the two of you.

word count: 9.9k+

pairing: 1980s!din djarin x fem!reader

warnings: not explicit, cussing, angst, violence, mentions of vomiting, TW: ANXIETY, TW: PANIC ATTACKS, a makeout session, angst because it needs more than one warning, pain, a lot of tears. let me know if i missed anything!

He couldn’t breathe.

Felt like his inside were being pulled out slowly from within the longer he lay there on the bathroom floor. The scent of alcohol filled his senses – pungent enough to have him covering his nose so as to avoid gagging. Only to realize...the smell was coming from him. Ten minutes ago he had passed out on Poe's couch, a bottle of whiskey – your whiskey - beside him. Except after hours of drinking and attempting to forget what had happened, he woke up startled and ready to vomit.

“Fuck,” he groaned, forcing himself to sit up slowly and lean against the wall behind him. He mentally made a note to remind Poe about the size of his bathroom and couch. Not fit for a man bigger than six feet; he felt as if he was in a fun house, being squished in wherever he went.

A knock had him clutching his head at the noise, wishing that he could disappear altogether. Except there was no escaping the shit that he’d done. No taking back the words that spewed from his mouth like venom – striking his victim right in the heart and killing her on the spot. He could see nothing but your face every time he shut his eyes. The image of your expression from his actions – in all your furious beauty - continued to haunt him.

A ghost he never wanted to rid himself of.

“I brought you water,” Poe’s voice shoved him back into the real world, as a glass of water was put in front of his face. “Rey made you eggs. They’re on the kitchen table.”

He couldn’t say anything, as if his tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth. Who knows it might have very well been with what happened last night. Thanking Poe with a nod, he blinked back the haze of his hangover, trying to grasp onto the memories of what went down.

If there’s one thing he was nearly positive about - his nose was broken. Or at least bruised. He couldn’t tell - what with the pain of his headache spreading down to the very tips of his fingers and toes. Gulping down the water, he stumbled to his feet, getting ready to dunk his entire body in the shower. Only to realize...he had nothing to wear. No clothes or even some of his things packed, because they were back-

“Fuck,” he said, knowing the word was going to become a habit now that he had fucked up his life this bad.

The door swung open slowly, ominous in every way he didn’t want it to be, but he couldn’t help the fact that Poe was only helping him because he was his boss. Din wasn’t even sure Poe considered him a friend. At least not like he considered you a friend. Yet another memory of you had him ready to collapse back onto the floor, the ache in his chest worse than the searing pain in his head.

Once again he felt like he couldn’t breathe. A regular occurrence ever since you walked out of his bar one week ago.

“I’m heading down to the bar,” Poe said, tugging on his jacket and grabbing his helmet - still hesitant to even move around Din. He noticed. Poe didn’t think he did, but he noticed everything, even with a severe hangover.

Din nodded, collapsing onto the chair, the smell of food making him sick and hungry simultaneously. He couldn’t decide, but after the last few days of never being able to keep food down he shoved the eggs into his mouth. Forcing them down enough just to sate the constant hunger in his body. Except even he knew the hunger wasn’t for food, or for the alcohol he now drank like water.

It was for you. Always you.

He was starving for your touch, for your love, for everything you had given him - only to have it shoved back into your face. Din wanted to take it all back, wanted to spew his feelings for you in every way he knew how. But he couldn’t, because every chance he managed to work himself up to go see you he only saw his son. Screaming for his dad as he was taken from his home.

He shuddered, feeling the cold sweat break out on his skin as he continued to eat in the hopes that it would cease the pain. The breakfast really was delicious and he raised his head to thank Rey for doing this - only to freeze in place as yet another memory was shoved into his mind. A cruel trick his conscience pulled out just to have him pushing the plate away and reaching for the mug of searing coffee instead.

“I made you breakfast and you won’t even wake up to see it.”

The image of your face smiling down at him as he lay in bed, just barely stirring awake, returned to his mind and suddenly he couldn’t feel his heart. Couldn’t get air into his lungs as his body silently panicked. The anxiety spiking higher than he expected, because he had broken you – had taken your smile and twisted it until you couldn’t show it anymore.

He knew what he did; heard what your friend said over the phone about your condition and it was then that his body gave out on him. His stomach forced him to the bathroom before he was lying bloody on the ground, because...Poe had punched him. The memory finally broke through his hangover, showing up as clear as sunlight.

Touching his nose softly he winced at the pain, hissing as it went down his entire face.

“I wouldn’t,” Rey said, coming to sit beside him with a first aid kit in her hand. “He got you pretty good.”

He huffed out a laugh, choosing to ignore the way his stomach churned. “I didn’t even remember that it happened yesterday.”

“Well you did pass out after it,” she replied, handing him a small cloth with alcohol to clean up the blood. “Poe had to drag you to the couch with Paz’s help.”

He had passed out from being punched. He couldn’t remember the last time that happened, but in all fairness he drank enough whiskey to rival the regulars at his place. The smell of it still clung to his shirt and he figured he had spilled the bottle at one point. Rey didn’t comment on his state of being for his sake, but he noticed the way she glanced warily at him every few seconds. As if he’d combust right before her very eyes.

“I’m not going to break,” he mumbled, drinking more of the coffee.

She smiled tightly, handing him a bandage for the cut on his face. “I know that. I just - I’ve never seen someone go through a breakup that brutal before.”

He didn’t deserve her pity; didn’t deserve anyone’s pity. Not after what he did. Din figured it was best to walk right to the gates of hell and wait for them to take his soul, because he deserved to be there instead. Not here. Not in a kitchen that looked far too homey to be Poe’s – being served eggs as his wound was cleaned slowly. He wanted to cry, but the tears would no longer rise to the surface. Finally depleted after hours of sobbing in the bathroom until he could no longer get air into his lungs.

Yet he could only see your face. Imagine your sobs as you buried yourself into your room, refusing to leave because the pain was too great.

“I-” he coughed, swallowing back the ball of emotions that had lodged itself in his throat. “I broke her,” he mumbled, watching the steam rise from the coffee mug as Rey sat there regarding him and all his emotions.

What a sight he must be for her. Destroyed beyond repair with his own sanity held together by a single string that was quickly fraying. Slowly pushing him towards the edge of complete and utter darkness. He’d been there before. Knew the pain like an old friend who had come back to lay claim on his mind, and this time he was willing to give in. Ready to give up everything, because he’d pulled the trigger one last time.

Only this time he shot someone he shouldn’t have.

Hurt the love of his life and even he knew...there was no coming back from that. No apology he could give that would ever be good enough for you.

“She still loves you,” Rey said, sipping at what he guessed to be tea.

He scoffed, wincing at the pain that struck him. “I don’t think so anymore.”

She stood, patting his shoulder before grabbing her own jacket - black denim with a sunflower embroidered on it. A strike of yellow and he wondered if that was her favorite color, noticing how it seemed to pop up everywhere she was. His eyes wandered to the potted plant that sat on the windowsill - a mint plant, and it hit him that he didn’t know the people he considered to be his friends. Didn’t know much about Poe or even his friends, and never worried about learning those things, because...you had known.

“If she didn’t love you – she wouldn’t be in pain.”

The door shut softly, leaving him there – alone at the kitchen table as he mulled over her words. At the truth behind them. She was right. He knew she was right, and something grew in his chest. A feeling that he hadn’t felt since that night he watched a drunk woman try and get off the stool of his bar after having finished a bottle of whiskey on her own.

Hope.

Something he thought he lost a long time ago now returned to him, blooming in chest just as the plant before him did. Soaking in as much of it as possible in order to survive. Din inhaled deeply, wiping at the rogue tears that had fallen and stood up slowly from the chair. Knowing that he’d have a lot of changing to do before he was worthy enough to even grovel at your feet.

Let alone be lucky enough to feel even a sliver of your love again.

Walking – albeit slowly - towards the couch he dug through his discarded jacket until he pulled out his wallet. Immediately reaching for the small bent and faded picture he carried with him every day of his life. A moment in time he wished like hell he could go back to. Collapsing on the couch he grinned at the smiling image of his son, being lifted into the air as they played in the front yard of a house he no longer owned.

A picture he had one day wanted to show you.

Opening the rest of it he pulled out another image he carried. One that held no faded marks, no folds, because it was new. He reverently gazed upon it in the hopes that it would become his reality, instead of the one he currently resided in, but to no avail did that wish come true. So he remained there, sitting on the couch and breathing steadily through his nose to counteract the oncoming pain – staring at a polaroid image of you smiling at him.

Clutching onto that feeling of hope for as long as he could.

So he was an idiot.

Not the conclusion he thought he would come up with on a day like this, but at least he had settled on something to explain the way he acted. It had taken days of mulling over what exactly would happen if he re-entered your life, enough time to drive both Poe and Paz insane due to their impatience, and he had come to one conclusion. He couldn’t go back to you. At least not yet.

He realized that he had to come to terms with things in his life before he attempted to make things right. Which is how he ended up where he was. Standing outside of the bridal store while Paz went in to check on you, because he was too cowardly to go in on his own. Not while you were there, possibly ripping him to shreds with your words; something even he had to admit he deserved.

An hour of waiting, of pacing back and forth between his bike and the front of the building, and he was sure people were ready to question what his intentions were. He wouldn’t blame them. Even he was sure he looked slightly insane, what with his anxiety driven movements and wild hair from the amount of times he’d run his hands through it. He wanted to see you, more than he could comprehend emotionally, but he wouldn’t ambush you like this.

He could barely bring himself to step within a foot of the shop’s door.

It’s when Paz walked out nearly an hour and a half later did Din finally feel like he could inhale a full breath. Stepping out of the alley he had found a box to sit on, he waited for Paz to come towards him. That is until…he saw you. Standing there and hugging him, no doubt saying goodbye. He wanted to move his legs. Rush after you and beg for you to take him back; anything to earn a piece of your heart again. He nearly did just that.

What stopped him was the sight of you wiping at your eyes, crying silently to yourself before continuing down the street, vanishing before him.

He’d done that. He had torn a pain from your heart that had shifted into a prominently physical ache that never left. He knew, because you left him with the exact same feeling. You were right at the time. If anyone was a coward, it was him.

He couldn’t even go after you and apologize after everything – he knew that once he saw you, once he stood close to you, he’d be a goner.

“She’s going to the bar,” Paz said, jogging across the street – his attention more focused on not getting hit by a cab. “I told her Poe’s been there all this time and she’s going to – what happened to you?”

That seemed to be enough to shake him out of the stupor the mere glimpse of you had put him in. “What?”

“You look like you’ve been punched, again.”

Din shook his head, blinking back the sharp sting of tears. He’d been crying enough. Although even he knew…there wouldn’t be enough tears to get over the loss of you from his life. Never enough pain to endure in order to survive this. He wondered – what if you never came back. What if…you rejected him after he apologized to you? Would he be left as a hollow human being, stuck in the memories of days gone past?

“Just – just-”

“Saw her?”

He nodded, running a hand down his face. “I shouldn’t have come here.”

Paz grabbed his shoulder, stopping him from leaving so suddenly. “She didn’t see you so what’s the harm? This was for you to see that she’s okay.”

“Is she though?” He knew asking would only bring him more harm than good, but he had to ask.

He needed to get the question out more than he needed to breathe. Suddenly the old urge to smoke returned as the nerves jumped under his skin; it would surely calm him down, but he recalled the sight of you cringing at the scent of it. Smoking was something he did casually with friends years ago. Every now and then he’d pull one out (away from anyone who might see), but ever since you showed your distaste for them he found he didn’t like them as much.

How much had you changed about him without him even realizing? That didn’t matter either. Not to him. You could have asked him to give up his bar and leave the country with you and he’d have done it at the drop of a hat.

After all, you were his home now.

His life.

“She’s surviving.” Paz forced a smile, eyes telling a completely different story altogether. “Like you.”

Din wasn’t sure what hurt more. The sight of you barely holding it together, or the fact that you weren’t happy in the slightest. It seemed the pain that once greeted him as an old pal, now sliced through him deeper than before. Forcing him to watch as his own heart was cut out of his body and tossed on the floor right before his feet.

The truth of how he felt was on the tip of his tongue. How he wasn’t sure how to live now that you were gone. Whether or not he was simply breathing to exist or breathing for something. He’d been this way before, but nobody close to him now had been around to witness how lost he looked when he gave up his son. They wouldn’t understand that he knew where this pain led, what road he was currently on, and how he couldn’t stop himself from driving head on.

He could barely control the wheel at times.

Only now the wheel was gone, and he was trapped in the driver's seat, a witness to the destruction of his own life.

“I’ll be gone for a few days.”

He understood where he had to be; what should be done. It was now a matter of actually going through with it that troubled him. Would they be as understanding of his situation as everyone else had been? In a way…he hoped they weren’t. He hurt you. Took away all the good in your soul and replaced it with his own bitterness towards himself. If anything – he deserved to be reprimanded for his shitty behavior; finally told the truth about what kind of person he was.

“Do you need me to do anything?” Paz inquired, seeing the way his friend retreated back into his own head.

“No. Just – just keep an eye on her please.”

He nodded. “I will.”

Din watched the corner you disappeared around, hoping that maybe just maybe you’d materialize there once more. He wanted one more glimpse of you before he left. One last look to see that you were okay. Even if that was farther from the truth than he liked to admit. You weren’t okay – he knew that now – and he only wished you had turned around to see him.

Maybe then it wouldn’t be so hard to tear his eyes away from that empty street corner.

The drive out there remained one of his favorite parts when making this trip. Usually he took his bike, but the longer he stared at it in the garage, the more he felt himself begin to shrink away from it. You haunted him wherever he went. Each memory – plagued with something so sweet he was desperate for a taste. Yet every time he reached for it, the memory pulled farther away. Replacing itself with something far more sinister.

The image of you – broken.

So, he took the car and learned to get over it.

His hand gripped the wheel until his knuckles turned white; heart thumping an erratic beat in his chest with every mile closer to his destination. He tried to distract himself with music. The news. Maybe even AM radio. Nothing worked. What would she say? What hell would she put him through? Every question that was meant to be fleeting, stuck in his mind until he couldn’t think of anything else.

Sighing, he slammed against the button to turn the radio on. He expected it to be a steady stream of static – the same way he hoped his brain would be – but to his dismay he was greeted by a song. David Bowie played loudly through his speakers singing about…a Starman. He felt his chest seize at the memory of you, the smile you wore, the way you sounded when you were happy. Suddenly he couldn’t breathe.

Choking out a curse, he swerved the car on the empty road until it hit dirt and he found himself in the middle of an empty field. None of that mattered. Not when the song continued to play, growing louder with every second. Reminding him of what he’d done. How he fucked up everything good in his life over three little words.

“Fuck,” he wheezed, slamming open the car door and stumbling out.

Fresh air filled his lungs. He inhaled it so fast that it burned on the way down, but to him a little physical pain was good. The song still played, now in the background, as he sat on the ground, picking at the stray patch of wildflowers beside him. He couldn’t drive. Not until he could finally feel like his head was attached to the rest of his body. His hands shook, his heart still raced, and yet…he felt like he deserved it. Why shouldn’t he? After what he did.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, unashamed by the hot tears that fell down his face.

He didn’t know how long he sat there, but he saw the sun begin to drop into the afternoon sky, the heat from the sun now beating down against his skin. Stripping himself of his jacket, he tossed it in the backseat. There would be no need to wear it. Not until he was back in the city. He wouldn’t be showing up as Din Djarin the former Mandalorian; the bartender who left his life in shambles.

For now, he’d go back as someone he buried beneath all the grief he harbored. He’d go home as simply Din Djarin. A father to a son he could no longer call his own kin. Ignoring the ache in his chest, he pulled out of the empty field he managed to drive into and got back on the road.

This was a trip he planned long before he broke your heart right along with his own. He wanted to bring you back here. To this place that he once called his home. It wasn’t much, but every street corner was littered with memories he recalled so clearly they might have happened yesterday. He wanted to tell you about each and every one. Explain how there once lived a man who lived two lives. The first – a battlefield of blood, choices, and a brutality he never wanted to experience again. The second – now that was different.

He’d been a dad to a son who was just learning the world.

Sure, he may not have been his son’s biological father, but he was more of a parent to him than anyone else. If there’s a single choice he wished he could do differently – it wouldn't be that one.

He wouldn’t give up the title of father for the world.

Turning onto a deserted road, he stopped the car in front of a house that looked to be falling apart. Shingles from the roof were scattered on the ground and the porch seemed to have collapsed from some storm or another. Even with all the damage, Din could still spot the wooden swing hanging from the tree. The first thing he made to turn this house into a home was that.

A swing for his son.

He parked and got out. Unsure if he should even jump the small fence and take a look. This was where he wanted to take you the most. Against his better judgment he hopped over the already rotting wooden fence, landing in the wild grass that grew instead of the lawn he once had. Everything looked different and yet…beyond the decay and destruction, it was still his home. The walls still remained – holding memories he continued to cherish.

Tugging on the rope, he smiled as it held up even to this day. Reminding him of a time when he’d been a good man. He wouldn’t go inside. Not today. That trip would be saved for when he wasn’t held together by a few measly strings; when – hopefully – he’d have you by his side.

Instead, he sat in that, too small, swing and watched the sun begin to dip down beneath the horizon. Smattering brilliant oranges across the sky and turning the dilapidated home golden.

“I’m coming back,” he said softly, staring at the empty home. “And I’m bringing you.”

He’d made vows before – had broken them in the most reckless of ways. However this one…this one he’d keep.

It was dark outside by the time he reached her place. Really he should have felt bad, but even he knew she’d be up and moving around. There’s one thing he understood about Esmeralda. She rarely ever stopped working, even when there wasn’t much to do. The echo of a familiar fifties song filtered through the night air bringing a smile to his face. He knew this song – had danced to this song – and just like that he could feel some weight lift off his shoulders.

The ringing of the bell attached to her door announced his entrance. That was fine by him, he wasn’t in the mood to talk just yet. So, he took the nearest seat at a table and waited for her to come out from the back. All the while listening to The Drifters play on the old record player he had given her as an anniversary present.

“We’re closed,” she said, shoving a worn down pen in her hair and tossing the rag on the counter.

“Good thing I’m not here to eat,” he said, getting to his feet.

She turned, wearing a shocked expression – for a few seconds. It fell the second she got a good look at him, not wearing his jacket and resembling a person who hadn’t slept in days. That would be an accurate description, given that he barely got a few hours here and there since he started sleeping alone again – and on a couch.

“What did you do?” she asked bluntly; her hands resting on her hips.

Esmeralda might not have been his actual mother, but Din sure treated her like she was. Especially now. He’d only ever seen her look disappointed in him three times the entire time he knew her. When he agreed to work for Moff, when he gave up his son, and when he left for the city in the hopes of running away from his past.

Din’s facade collapsed, his expression now revealing everything he’d been through, how much pain he’d endured in such a short span of time. “I left the city,” he uttered, falling back into the chair behind him.

“I can see that,” she replied, gesturing to his car outside. “You only use that when you’re running.”

“I’m not-” He paused, shutting his eyes and recalling the hasty way he packed a bag before rushing out of the bar. Without saying goodbye. “I had to.”

She took the seat across the table. “You never have to run. You choose to – or'dinii.”

He smiled. “Is that your favorite word?”

“I lived surrounded by Mandalorians who chose to be foolish with their lives.”

“Just because I left doesn’t mean I’m foolish,” he said, unable to lift his eyes from the table.

“Is that so?” He nods in response. “Then where is your cyare?”

He noticeably flinches, clutching his hands together in the hopes that the question might pass him by. It doesn’t.

“She’s-” What should he say? He came here for a reason – to hear Esmeralda’s thoughts on the matter and yet he can barely get the words out of his mouth.

She nods, getting up from the chair and reaching for the half full coffee pot. “So you’re running from her.”

“I don’t want to,” he admits, knowing that he’d rather be with you than anywhere else.

“Then why are you?” He takes the mug from her, drinking it down like it was water – ignoring the searing burn.

“I-” The words were on the tip of his tongue. He didn’t want you to end up like his son, but even he knew there was more to it than merely that. There was always more when it came to you.

“You love her,” she says softly, watching several different realizations settle in his mind, finally clicking into place.

He nods, feeling the all too familiar sting of tears prick his eyes. “I don’t want her to get hurt.”

“She won’t.”

“They came for me,” he whispered, clutching the mug as if it were his lifeline. “They came for me and she was there. She could have died.”

Esmeralda sits silently, listening to him spill his entire heart on the table. All the broken pieces he liked to keep hidden away in a box – in the hopes that they’d mend themselves. Maybe if he hid them, he wouldn’t have to deal with them. Only that’s not how it works. He knows that and still – he refused to let anyone see how much of a fragmented man he was. He refused to let you see.

“Din,” she said, reaching for his hand, loosening his grip on the mug. “Your cyare is not your son.”

He exhales, allowing a few tears to slip free. “I know.”

“Then why do you treat her as such?” Refilling his mug, she leans back in the chair. “You forget – we’ve met. I do not see a helpless person beside you when I see her, I see someone who loves you.”

He knows she’s right. Somehow he knew you loved him before you uttered the words, because the way you looked at him was the way he looked at you. The way he’d always look at you. There wouldn’t be a day where Din wouldn’t love you and yet he still broke your heart. He watched you walk out of his bar – with the intention of never coming back.

“I can’t return,” he said. “Not yet.”

“I know,” she replied, setting her mug down on the table. “You have to see him.”

Din nods, letting go of the mug and running a hand down his face. “I need to know he’s safe.”

“They may not let you see him.”

Again he nods. He knew that visiting with his son wouldn’t be a possibility, but just a glimpse of him would have to do. Enough to keep at least some part of him stable. Esmeralda patted his shoulder, giving him some form of comfort before turning off the lights and locking the door.

“You will sleep on the couch for the night,” she said, leading him upstairs and tossing her apron on the kitchen table.

“Thank you.”

“You can stay as long as you promise me one thing.” Turning towards him, she handed him a wooden box – a name carved in the front that he’d done himself years ago. “After you see him – after you give him this – you go home.

“Esmeralda-”

She shakes her head. “You. Go. Home. You return to your cyare and give her the love you’re too afraid to show. Do you promise?”

Promises were a dangerous thing to keep. Far too lethal for anyone to hold onto for very long – a thing that he had failed at – and yet…he had to. He knew that to not keep this single vow would leave him with an unhappy life. Running his hand over the engraved M on the box, he knew that it was time to finally stop ignoring his past. The excuse that it was to protect you no longer worked and he knew that you wouldn’t want him to forget a piece of himself.

Possibly the most important piece.

“I promise,” he said.

Two simple words that would determine his fate sounded terrifying in the long run and yet they were so easy to say. Was this how you felt when you dared to say those three little words? It must have been.

“Goodnight,” Esmeralda said, shutting her bedroom door, leaving him to sit on the couch and think.

That was the thing though. He was tired of thinking. Exhausted from the words his mind conjured up, but there would be nothing more to do. Not until he finally came to a single conclusion. Does he continue to run as he always had? Or…does he go back to you? Even though he asked himself both questions, he knew there would only ever be one answer.

One conclusion for his story.

THE NEXT DAY

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck- He felt like his insides were being cut open. Din Djarin rarely got nervous about situations, having been put in all sorts of predicaments all through his life. He didn’t get nervous because he was always prepared. There would always be two options for how things played out. Good or bad. Simple and easy. Except now he felt like he was going to pass out the longer he sat in his car outside of a house grander than anything he could afford.

The box sat on the seat beside him, staring him in the face – reminding him of why he showed up in the first place. This wasn’t for him. This was for the little boy that was old enough to hold a memory of him; that saw him as a dad. He may not get to see him, or even get a chance to give him this, and yet…he was okay with it. Just knowing he remained safe – away from his life – was enough for him.

“Okay,” he breathed, grabbing the box and finally getting out of the car.

The walk to the front door felt miles long and yet somehow he was standing on the porch within seconds. Din felt his heart race, the nausea from earlier returning to rear its ugly head. Still he clutched onto the box. Tracing over the M with his index finger to keep some level of calm through the encounter. A part of him hoped he’d finally get a chance to see his son, to say hello and yet…he was terrified.

Would he recognize Din as his father?

Would he care?

Din exhaled, rapping his knuckles on the door. “C’mon.” To his detriment and relief, the door opened, revealing the man he gave his son to. “Hello,” he said, trying not to allow the shakiness to enter his voice.

“Hello. Din right?”

He nods, extending his hand. “I was hoping – well actually if it’s okay. I’d like to see him.”

He watches the man – hesitate and feels his heart begin to sink down to his stomach. Of course he wouldn’t be allowed. It had been a possibility since the very beginning, and yet he still felt like this entire situation was unfair. Sighing, he tried to fight back the bitterness that ate away at his heart. He didn’t think of what Esmeralda would tell him, what anyone else’s advice would be at a time like this. He thought only of you.

What would you do in a situation like this?

“I had something made for him when he was younger. If it’s okay – could you give it to him?” he asked, extending the box.

“I wish we could allow you to see him, but the court said once he was given to us-”

He nods. “Just tell him that this belongs to him. It’s his. Not mine.”

Letting go of the box felt like he was ripping a piece of his own skin off. He knew there would come a time when things would turn out this way. A perfect life is never allowed to remain perfect for long. Even if it was less than he hoped. Eventually – things would fall apart and there he was. Standing knee deep in eventually. His life wasn’t perfect – far from it – and yet somehow that too managed to crash and burn around him.

“I will.”

For a second, Din heard a laugh echo from the back room. One he knew better than his, better than yours, and it caused him to nearly run into the house. There was his son. Sitting feet away with a wall between them and he still couldn’t see him. Thus were the consequences of his actions, and so – he allowed the door to shut as he walked back to his car. He thought he’d be worried, but for the first time since you left, he felt okay. His son was safe, laughing.

That’s all he could ask for – right?

He shut the car door, unable to move for a few minutes as he allowed the stress to leave his body. Every muscle of his ached beyond belief. No matter how many painkillers he took, it came back with some sort of fucking vengeance and now…he was feeling it in full. Groaning, he leaned back, flipping on the radio. He’d give it a few more minutes until he began driving back. For now, he just needed a small moment to catch his breath.

Except he kept retreating back into his own mind, digging around for something that kept popping up. A realization he didn’t ignore. He had wanted you here with him, for this especially. He wanted you to meet his son. Finally see the other side to the man you loved, and somehow – the realization made the hold in his chest larger. He relinquished the last thing he held that reminded him of his son, giving way to a much darker conclusion.

His greatest fear in life somehow came true in the end.

He was alone.

Changing the station, he paused at the song that popped up, recognizing it immediately.

“I can tell – that your soul has lived a life worth remembering.”

Your words played through his mind, as Fleetwood Mac sang about brown eyes that you believed to be about him. For a moment, he pretended that you were here sitting in the seat next to him. He thought about how you’d laugh, call it fate, and demand he turn the volume up. He thought about that night. How you broke down his walls with only a few words.

He thought about anything and everything and suddenly…he didn’t feel so lonely anymore. Somehow you were still here with him even when you weren’t. He wondered if the song playing as he drove out of his parking spot and down the street was actually fate. The universe telling him that he may have fucked up everything now, but things would fall back into place.

Eventually.

The car he borrowed from Paz rolled to a stop directly outside of his bar. While the headlights illuminated the building, showing that Poe had clearly locked up for the night, he still felt like there was someone there. Maybe he’d officially lost it. Yeah, that was it. He lost his fucking mind the second you left, and now to make up for the hole in his chest, he imagined you as the ghost that haunted his bar.

He didn’t want to be here. Not at this time of night, but after staying with Esmeralda for a few days he came back to talk to you. Granted the conversation happened through a door, but he still heard your voice. He felt your presence and for the first time in a while, he felt whole again.

Now he was back. Staring at the empty bar a week after talking to you, because he was what? Finally ready to reopen the place? Ready to be the man he was before you left? He didn’t know at this point, but after sitting in Poe’s living room alone for the third night in a row, he had to get out of there. So, he got in a car and drove. There was no designated destination in his mind. He just drove, in the hopes of clearing his mind.

Only to wind up here.

“Better late than never,” he mumbled, checking to see if he brought his keys with him to actually get inside.

The sooner he opened that door, the easier it would be to finally return home. He didn’t like how vacant the bar looked. It’s why he avoided coming here in the first place, but even he knew. The longer he stayed away, the more he ran and he made a promise to Esmeralda that he wouldn’t run anymore. He couldn’t. Not when he finally revealed every ugly part of himself to you – each scar, blemish, and wound was now yours to see.

He was done barring you from his past.

Not when you were his future.

Unlocking the door, he shoved the keys in his pocket, preparing to get straight to work and restock shelves. Only to stop mid-step at the sight of someone sitting at the bar. In your spot. She ran her finger along the edge of an empty whiskey glass – the very same one he used for you when you used to sit there. He didn’t move, knowing that if she was here, the rest of them weren’t far behind.

“Tell me…Romeo,” she drawled, picking up a bottle set in front of her that had a rubber-band around it holding the bills you both bet on. “How much do you love your precious sweetheart?”

“Get the fuck out of my bar.” He didn’t want to entertain her games anymore. Didn’t want to give her a fucking chance to even rile him up.

She smiled, getting up and setting the bottle harshly on the bar. “I asked you a question.”

“And I gave you an order.”

“Oh – an order?” Her boots echoed on the floor, a small clicking sound of metal against metal echoing around her as she pulled a knife from her pocket. “I remember when you gave me orders of a different…variety,” she whispered, inches away from him.

He kept his mouth shut. What he and Xi’an had was a fling. A mutual understanding that there were no feelings involved, nor would there be, and when he left she understood that. Only now there he stood, watching her scrape the edge of her knife lightly along his jacket.

“Leave,” he said, standing rigid against her playful exterior.

“I just want to know one thing,” she whispered, cupping his cheek. “Did you love me more than you love her?”

Reaching up he gripped her wrist tightly, watching as she winced from the pain. He didn’t incite violence unless necessary. Except for right now. He wanted to hurt her, because she had hurt him in turn. She threatened his calm that he had with you and now…she dared to step foot back in his bar. Leaning down, he visibly watched her shrink herself away from him, tugging on his hold to free herself.

“I will never love anyone the way I love her,” he spit out.

He didn’t flinch when her knife pressed against his throat, didn’t give her a chance to see him with fear in his eyes, because he wasn’t afraid of her. He knew her. How she continued to win the favor of everyone around her for years. The strong exterior she put up day after day – the anger she felt – all of it built up until one day…she snapped.

“I could kill you right here,” she said, eyes narrowing at his eerily calm exterior. “Then what would she do? Without her precious Mandalorian to protect her? I could have some fun with her.”

That got his attention.

Biting out a cuss, he pushed back against the knife, feeling it prick the skin of his neck. “You touch her and there’s nowhere you can go to hide.”

She laughs with glee, finally finding the string she could pull until he snapped. “What are you going to do? Protect her? Like you did your son?”

A shout tore from her chest as he wrapped his hand around her throat and shoved her back until she was pressed against the bar. The edge of it digging into her shoulders. His level headed behavior had been abandoned, leaving someone he thought was gone. He’d taken lives, been on the receiving end of a gun and the one pointing it. Which is why he felt okay pressing down until he cut off her airways, watching her panic slowly when she quickly realized – she might die.

“I’m not going to repeat myself,” he breathed.

Loosening his grip he allowed her a second to breathe, feeling merciful. “You really love her,” she choked out.

“She means more to me than you will ever know.”

“What a shame,” she said, bringing her knee up and slamming it into his thigh.

He stumbled back, blocking the knife she chucked at him with his arm. If she wanted a fight, he’d give it to her, but there was one thing she had an advantage on over him. When enraged, Xi'an was someone who could kill you in seconds, her speed and skill all counting on that sole emotion. Moving out of the way when she sent a kick his way, he tried to do nothing but block her attacks.

If he managed to get behind the bar, he could reach for his gun, but it seemed she knew exactly what he was trying to do. With a cry of fury, she leapt at him, slicing a cut down his side with her blade.

“You should have loved me,” she spit out as he tried to throw her off.

One wrong move and he was gone.

One wrong move and she held the upper hand.

He didn’t see her fatal strike coming, and within seconds she had gotten to her feet and slammed her boot against his face. For what felt like a mere minute, he couldn’t see straight. Spots clouded over his vision as he heard her moving around him. She was saying something, but he was unable to make it out clearly due to the ringing in his ears. Had she hit him more than once? He couldn’t tell.

“It was nice knowing you Mando,” she whispered above him, pressing her lips to his cheek softly before he audibly heard her walk away.

The door shut behind him loudly, followed by complete and utter silence. That isn’t what unnerved him. It was the smell of whiskey that seemed to bleed from the very walls around him. Stumbling to his feet, he tried to shake the disorientation away, but to no avail it continued to cause him to remain dazed. She had hit him right where she knew he’d been seriously injured before.

“Fuck,” he muttered, hitting the wall.

What the fuck had she done? Why did he smell whiskey?

He didn’t have time to process the situation, because outside he heard it. The soft flick of a lighter with a light caressing against her face as she lit a cigarette. Forcing himself to remain stable, he finally managed to right his vision as the sight of the bar came into view. He knew why he smelled whiskey, knew what she’d been doing while he was down on the ground, and he couldn’t do a damn thing to stop her.

“No,” he said, locking eyes with her and watching in abject horror as she threw the half finished cigarette through the broken window. “No!”

Moving forward, he tried to rush at her only to fall back to the ground, his head throbbing from the pain. Orange overtook his vision, as the whiskey she had poured on the floors – caught fire, beginning to engulf his home. The only place he could call his. Within seconds, everything he built, everything he tried to protect was now being burnt to the ground.

Turned to ash literally before his very eyes.

He tried to get up, stop the fire from catching even further, but he was almost positive she gave him a concussion.

Only when the heat became too much to bear and he began to choke on the smoke, did he get up from the ground. He faintly heard the echo of sirens heading his way. Firetrucks to come put out the fire. How long had he been on the floor? He kept going in and out, trying to stay conscious enough to get out. Flinching away from the tall flames, he somehow managed to get to the bar, grabbing the first thing he could think of.

The bottle that sat in the middle of it all.

Your promise.

A wave of nausea came over him, stirring his insides painfully. It forced him to stop and lean against whatever was near him, but even he knew – he had to get out of there. He had to find you; protect you. A shout came from outside, asking if anyone was in the bar. That wasn’t what made him move. It was the sound of your voice, echoing from outside. Screaming his name.

Grunting through the pain, he stumbled towards the door, feeling a slight burn prickle his skin when the flames began to catch on his jacket. He wanted to collapse, give up the continuing fight he had to go through. Except he couldn’t. Not when he could see you through the haze of smoke, sobbing in Poe’s arms.

He remembers calling you, remembers you running into his arm and finally feeling like he could breathe again when your lips pressed against his. He even remembers telling you those three little words that had fucked up so much in his life.

Three words he meant with everything he was.

CURRENTLY

Keeping an exhausted and thoroughly done bartender awake was a lot harder than you anticipated it would be. He willingly got into his car with you, followed you to your apartment – albeit a bit too quietly – and now sat at your kitchen table. Nursing a glass of whiskey from the bottle you bet on. You weren’t sure if you wanted to check his pulse to see if he was still alive, or start gathering ingredients to perform a spell that would bring him back to life.

He sat there, staring blankly at his glass, without saying anything. You weren’t normally one to be worried about this man, but the way he looked, haunted, completely broken, had you gnawing on your bottom lip, your body riddled with worry. Dragging a chair closer to him, you placed a hand on his shoulder to try and snap him out of his trance.

“Din?” you asked softly, smiling briefly when he finally raised his eyes.

He wasn’t dead.

“Is there anything I can do?” You wanted to rip all the anguish from his body. Give him a feeling of hope that you knew to be gone, but all you could do was sit there. Offering him some sense of peace while he grieved for a life he spent so long building.

“No,” he replied, letting go of the glass to reach for your hand. “I should sleep.”

You gripped his hand, stopping him from getting up. “You have a concussion Romeo. You can’t sleep.”

“I’ve had worse.”

“Maybe, but not while you were with me. I’m not letting you leave me so soon. Not after I just got you back.”

He collapsed back in the chair without question, wincing as the gauze you wrapped around his waist pulled at his wound. “Yes ma’am,” he mumbled, grinning at your expression.

Somehow, after everything that happened, he could still smile. He could give you a glimpse of the Din you loved. You wanted to kiss him again, just for the sake of kissing him, but something held you back. Reminded you that…he may have apologized but his words still rang clear as day in your mind. They hadn’t stopped since he said them. Maybe it was ridiculous of you to be so hurt by them except you couldn’t allow yourself to be hurt beyond repair again.

You wouldn’t go back to that version of yourself, because surviving it a second time wasn’t possible.

“How long should I stay awake?” he asked, running his thumb along your palm.

“Paz told me that an hour max? I’m not sure I’ve never had a concussion before.” Scooting closer, you ran a hand through the hair at the nape of his neck, smiling when he tilted his head back in order to lean into your touch.

He sighed, letting his eyes slip close. “Can I go lay down?”

“You can lay down,” you laugh, getting up from the chair.

The concussion may not have been as bad as you thought it was, but you weren’t taking a chance. So, you’d make a cup of coffee and keep yourself up all night. Just to make sure he’d open his eyes the next morning. He had been back in your life for a few hours and already he was making your heart flutter with just a look. You watch him smile, his eyes opening to once again show you that brown you were so attached to. The very same eyes that haunted you when you were apart.

“C’mon.” Your words coax him out of the chair, the grip on his hand never slipping.

“Sweetheart,” he breathes, stepping closer until the tips of your shoes touch his. “Can I kiss you?”

You said yes without a moment’s hesitation. You said it because there was no need to pause and think about whether or not you should be doing this. The both of you barely talked about what happened. The majority of your conversation happened through a door, which didn’t help matters. Why did you say yes? Why did you feel okay letting him back in your life so quickly?

There would be no other options when it came to him.

You said yes, because you love him.

His hand slid up your arm gently, cupping your neck to drag you forward and press his lips against yours. This wasn’t like the other times when passion took precedence and the heat was too much to bear. This was…soft, tender, by all means reverent. He kissed you like was terrified of losing you again. He very well might have been, you wouldn’t know unless you asked him, but it seems that he read your mind.

Gasping, you cupping his face to kiss him further. A hard press of your lips to his, your tongue sliding against his until the familiar curl of heat began in the base of your spine. Until the fear melted away, leaving in its wake a need you had missed every passing day. You weren’t sure who started it, but his hands found your bare waist, dragging beneath your shirt as he walked forward.

One more step and your back was pressed against the wall, his thigh slotting into place right between your legs. It felt comfortable – familiar. So, why did a part of you start screaming? Why was your mind going haywire the longer you kissed him? You shoved those worries down, choosing instead to dig your teeth into his bottom lip and tug at his sharply. Eliciting a wanton moan from him.

“I missed you,” he breathed, placing wet open mouthed kisses down your neck.

Your hips shifted involuntarily right as his knee came up to grind perfectly against your cunt, forcing a whine from your lips that he swallowed with a kiss. You wanted to get his shirt off, to drag him back to your bed and let him show you how much he missed you. Except then his hand slid down your stomach, reaching for the button of your pants and the warning bells grew to a crescendo you could no longer ignore.

“Stop,” you gasped, grabbing his wrist and yanking it away from your skin like he had just burned you. “Stop.”

He fell back the second he heard you say it the first time, his eyes wide and body still as you practically collapsed against the wall to catch your breath.

“Sweetheart?” he asked, lifting his hands in a move that made you feel like a timid animal he was approaching. You didn’t want to feel this way. You wanted to give into the lust that still played in your veins, but you couldn’t rid yourself of those fucking words.

“I just-” There was no use fighting back the tears of anger. “I can’t. I’m sorry. I-”

You wanted him to say something, tell you how he felt, tell you that your nerves were misplaced, but he remained silent. Watching you with a look you couldn’t read. Wiping furiously at the wave of fresh tears, you reached out for him. This wasn’t how you thought the night would go, how you expected it to go, but that night – his words – they continued to play on a loop. They were a broken record you couldn’t fix.

“Why are you sorry?” he asked softly, taking your hand.

“That I can’t… I want to but I-”

His face fell. “Don’t apologize,” he said, stepping closer. “Don’t apologize for any of it.”

“But-”

“No.” You thought he would fall into your arms, hug you tight enough to push all the bad away, but to your surprise – he sank to his knees. “You’re not the one who needs to apologize.” Pressing his face into your stomach, you felt the wetness of his own tears.

“Din.” Tugging on his hair to see him, you felt the last bit of strength you had left – fall away.

Holding your hips, he pressed a kiss to your stomach, your sternum, right above your heart, until he reached your lips once more. With every kiss he placed on your skin – he whispered apologies. For everything he had done, all the things he didn’t tell you, all the words he should have never said. He apologized for it all, bringing more tears to your eyes.

“I should have never let you walk out,” he said, leaning his forehead against yours.

If there’s one thing you knew, it was that the man standing before you was it. Your future. There didn’t need to be anything said between you, because he knew just as you did. You made mistakes, you allowed things to get between you, but at the end of it all there you were. Two survivors of your own fate.

“I would have put up a fight,” you whispered, knowing that you’d have been the first to break his nose if he ran after you.

He smiled. “Good. I deserve one.”

“Maybe.” Taking his hand you tugged him behind you until you stood in your room. “But for now – sleep?”

He nodded, pressed one last kiss to your forehead, before he clambered into bed beside you. Clutching your hand tight enough to hurt. You didn’t mind the pain though. Not when you spent every night alone here, aching for him to be beside you – for his touch to be the first thing to wake you up.

“I love you,” he murmured, kissing your hand and bringing it to his chest.

Smiling, you enjoyed the slight flutter of your heart as you watched him settle in for the night, his eyes slipping closed and body relinquishing to the hold sleep had over him. All the while, repeating those words in your head. He loved you. Din Djarin – loved you. There was a certain giddiness that came with knowing that truth. One you wouldn’t trade for anything in the world.

Kissing his nose, you felt him smile slightly. “I love you,” you breathed, knowing that nothing truer was ever spoken, than those three little words.

Black Velvet Tags:

@keeper0fthestars @remmyswritings @weirdowithnobeardo @captain-jebi @diogodxlot @mando-amando @fan-of-encouragement @bewitchedbodyandsol @leaiorganas @ezrasarm @elinedjarin @mandocrasis @bendro-pascarnes @eloriadjarin @deadhumourist @w1nt3r-s0lst1c3 @spideysimpossiblegirl @saucerful-strange @caesaryoulater @amidalaraan

[dornish-queen]

Pedro Pascal on Fame and ‘The Mandalorian’: ‘Can We Cut the S— and Talk About the Child?’

By Adam B. Vary

Photographs by Beau Grealy

When Pedro Pascal was roughly 4 years old, he and his family went to see the 1978 hit movie “Superman,” starring Christopher Reeve. Pascal’s young parents had come to live in San Antonio after fleeing their native Chile during the rise of dictator Augusto Pinochet in the mid-1970s. Taking Pascal and his older sister to the movies — sometimes more than once a week — had become a kind of family ritual, a way to soak up as much American pop culture as possible.

At some point during this particular visit, Pascal needed to go to the bathroom, and his parents let him go by himself. “I didn’t really know how to read yet,” Pascal says with the same Cheshire grin that dazzled “Game of Thrones” fans during his run as the wily (and doomed) Oberyn Martel. “I did not find my way back to ‘Superman.'”

Instead, Pascal wandered into a different theater (he thinks it was showing the 1979 domestic drama “Kramer vs. Kramer,” but, again, he was 4). In his shock and bewilderment at being lost, he curled up into an open seat and fell asleep. When he woke up, the movie was over, the theater was empty, and his parents were standing over him. To his surprise, they seemed rather calm, but another detail sticks out even more.

“I know that they finished their movie,” he says, bending over in laughter. “My sister was trying to get a rise out of me by telling me, ‘This happened and that happened and then Superman did this and then, you know, the earthquake and spinning around the planet.'” In the face of such relentless sibling mockery, Pascal did the only logical thing: “I said, ‘All that happened in my movie too.'”

He had no way of knowing it at the time, of course, but some 40 years later, Pascal would in fact get the chance to star in a movie alongside a DC Comics superhero — not to mention battle Stormtroopers and, er, face off against the most formidable warrior in Westeros. After his breakout on “Game of Thrones,” he became an instant get-me-that-guy sensation, mostly as headstrong, taciturn men of action — from chasing drug traffickers in Colombia for three seasons on Netflix’s “Narcos” to squaring off against Denzel Washington in “The Equalizer 2.”

This year, though, Pascal finds himself poised for the kind of marquee career he’s spent a lifetime dreaming about. On Oct. 30, he’ll return for Season 2 as the title star of “The Mandalorian,” Lucasfilm’s light-speed hit “Star Wars” series for Disney Plus that earned 15 Emmy nominations, including best drama, in its first season. And then on Dec. 25 — COVID-19 depending — he’ll play the slippery comic book villain Maxwell Lord opposite Gal Gadot, Chris Pine and Kristen Wiig in “Wonder Woman 1984.”

The roles are at once wildly divergent and the best showcase yet for Pascal’s elastic talents. In “The Mandalorian,” he must hide his face — and, in some episodes, his whole body — in a performance that pushes minimalism and restraint to an almost ascetic ideal. In “Wonder Woman 1984,” by stark contrast, he is delivering the kind of big, broad bad-guy character that populated the 1980s popcorn spectaculars of his youth.

“I continually am so surprised when everybody pegs him as such a serious guy,” says “Wonder Woman 1984” director Patty Jenkins. “I have to say, Pedro is one of the most appealing people I have known. He instantly becomes someone that everybody invites over and you want to have around and you want to talk to.”

Talk with Pascal for just five minutes — even when he’s stuck in his car because he ran out of time running errands before his flight to make it to the set of a Nicolas Cage movie in Budapest — and you get an immediate sense of what Jenkins is talking about. Before our interview really starts, Pascal points out, via Zoom, that my dog is licking his nether regions in the background. “Don’t stop him!” he says with an almost naughty reproach. “Let him live his life!”

Over our three such conversations, it’s also clear that Pascal’s great good humor and charm have been at once ballast for a number of striking hardships, and a bulwark that makes his hard-won success a challenge for him to fully accept.

Before Pascal knew anything about “The Mandalorian,” its showrunner and executive producer Jon Favreau knew he wanted Pascal to star in it.

“He feels very much like a classic movie star in his charm and his delivery,” says Favreau. “And he’s somebody who takes his craft very seriously.” Favreau felt Pascal had the presence and skill essential to deliver a character — named Din Djarin, but mostly called Mando — who spends virtually every second of his time on screen wearing a helmet, part of the sacrosanct creed of the Mandalorian order.

Convincing any actor to hide their face for the run of a series can be as precarious as escaping a Sarlacc pit. To win Pascal over in their initial meeting, Favreau brought him behind the “Mandalorian” curtain, into a conference room papered with storyboards covering the arc of the first season. “When he walked in, it must have felt a little surreal,” Favreau says. “You know, most of your experiences as an actor, people are kicking the tires to see if it’s a good fit. But in this case, everything was locked and loaded.”

Needless to say, it worked. “I hope this doesn’t sound like me fashioning myself like I’m, you know, so smart, but I agreed to do this [show] because the impression I had when I had my first meeting was that this is the next big s—,” Pascal says with a laugh.

Favreau’s determination to cast Pascal, however, put the actor in a tricky situation: Pascal’s own commitments to make “Wonder Woman 1984” in London and to perform in a Broadway run of “King Lear” with Glenda Jackson barreled right into the production schedule for “The Mandalorian.” Some scenes on the show, and in at least one case a full episode, would need to lean on the anonymity of the title character more than anyone had quite planned, with two stunt performers — Brendan Wayne and Lateef Crowder — playing Mando on set and Pascal dubbing in the dialogue months later.

Pascal was already being asked to smother one of his best tools as an actor, extraordinarily uncommon for anyone shouldering the newest iteration of a global live-action franchise. (Imagine Robert Downey Jr. only playing Iron Man while wearing a mask — you can’t!) Now he had to hand over control of Mando’s body to other performers too. Some actors would have walked away. Pascal didn’t.

“If there were more than just a couple of pages of a one-on-one scene, I did feel uneasy about not, in some instances, being able to totally author that,” he says. “But it was so easy in such a sort of practical and unexciting way for it to be up to them. When you’re dealing with a franchise as large as this, you are such a passenger to however they’re going to carve it out. It’s just so specific. It’s ‘Star Wars.'” (For Season 2, Pascal says he was on the set far more, though he still sat out many of Mando’s stunts.)

“The Mandalorian” was indeed the next big s—, helping to catapult the launch of Disney Plus to 26.5 million subscribers in its first six weeks. With the “Star Wars” movies frozen in carbonite until 2023 (at least), I noted offhand that he’s now effectively the face of one of the biggest pop-culture franchises in the world. Pascal could barely suppress rolling his eyes.

“I mean, come on, there isn’t a face!” he says with a laugh that feels maybe a little forced. “If you want to say, ‘You’re the silhouette’ — which is also a team effort — then, yeah.” He pauses. “Can we just cut the s— and talk about the Child?”

Yes, of course, the Child — or, as the rest of the galaxy calls it, Baby Yoda. Pascal first saw the incandescently cute creature during his download of “Mandalorian” storyboards in that initial meeting with Favreau. “Literally, my eyes following left to right, up and down, and, boom, Baby Yoda close to the end of the first episode,” he says. “That was when I was like, ‘Oh, yep, that’s a winner!'”

Baby Yoda is undeniably the breakout star of “The Mandalorian,” inspiring infinite memes and apocryphal basketball game sightings. But the show wouldn’t work if audiences weren’t invested in Mando’s evolving emotional connection to the wee scene stealer, something Favreau says Pascal understood from the jump. “He’s tracking the arc of that relationship,” says the showrunner. “His insight has made us rethink moments over the course of the show.” (As with all things “Star Wars,” questions about specifics are deflected in deference to the all-powerful Galactic Order of Spoilers.)

Even if Pascal couldn’t always be inside Mando’s body, he never left the character’s head, always aware of how this orphaned bounty hunter who caroms from planet to planet would look askance at anything that felt too good (or too adorable) to be true.

“The transience is something that I’m incredibly familiar with, you know?” Pascal says. “Understanding the opportunity for complexity under all of the armor was not hard for me.”

When Pascal was 4 months old, his parents had to leave him and his sister with their aunt, so they could go into hiding to avoid capture during Pinochet’s crackdown against his opposition. After six months, they finally managed to climb the walls of the Venezuelan embassy during a shift change and claim asylum; from there, the family relocated, first to Denmark, then to San Antonio, where Pascal’s father got a job as a physician.

Pascal was too young to remember any of this, and for a healthy stretch of his childhood, his complicated Chilean heritage sat in parallel to his life in the U.S. — separate tracks, equally important, never quite intersecting. By the time Pascal was 8, his family was able to take regular trips back to Chile to visit with his 34 first cousins. But he doesn’t remember really talking about any of his time there all that much with his American friends.

“I remember at one point not even realizing that my parents had accents until a friend was like, ‘Why does your mom talk like that?'” Pascal says. “And I remember thinking, like what?”

Besides, he loved his life in San Antonio. His father took him and his sister to Spurs basketball games during the week if their homework was done. He hoodwinked his mother into letting him see “Poltergeist” at the local multiplex. He watched just about anything on cable; the HBO special of Whoopi Goldberg’s one-woman Broadway show knocked him flat. He remembers seeing Henry Thomas in “E.T.” and Christian Bale in “Empire of the Sun” and wishing ardently, urgently, I want to live those stories too.

Then his father got a job in Orange County, Calif. After Pascal finished the fifth grade, they moved there. It was a shock. “There were two really, really rough years,” he says. “A lot of bullying.”

His mother found him a nascent performing arts high school in the area, and Pascal burrowed even further into his obsessions, devouring any play or movie he could get his hands on. His senior year, a friend of his mother’s gave Pascal her ticket to a long two-part play running in downtown Los Angeles that her bad back couldn’t withstand. He got out of school early to drive there by himself. It was the pre-Broadway run of “Angels in America.”

“And it changed me,” he says with almost religious awe. “It changed me.”

After studying acting at NYU’s Tisch School of the Arts, Pascal booked a succession of solid gigs, like MTV’s “Undressed” and “Buffy the Vampire Slayer.” But the sudden death of his mother — who’d only just been permitted to move back to Chile a few years earlier — took the wind right from Pascal’s sails. He lost his agent, and his career stalled almost completely.

As a tribute to her, he decided to change his professional last name from Balmaceda, his father’s, to Pascal, his mother’s. “And also, because Americans had such a hard time pronouncing Balmaceda,” he says. “It was exhausting.”

Pascal even tried swapping out Pedro for Alexander (an homage to Ingmar Bergman’s “Fanny and Alexander,” one of the formative films of his youth). “I was willing to do absolutely anything to work more,” he says. “And that meant if people felt confused by who they were looking at in the casting room because his first name was Pedro, then I’ll change that. It didn’t work.”

It was a desperately lean time for Pascal. He booked an occasional “Law & Order” episode, but mostly he was pounding the pavement along with his other New York theater friends — like Oscar Isaac, who met Pascal doing an Off Broadway play. They became fast, lifelong friends, bonding over their shared passions and frustrations as actors.

“It’s gotten better, but at that point, it was so easy to be pigeonholed in very specific roles because we’re Latinos,” says Isaac. “It’s like, how many gang member roles am I going to be sent?” As with so many actors, the dream Pascal and Isaac shared to live the stories of their childhoods had been stripped down to its most basic utility. “The dream was to be able to pay rent,” says Isaac. “There wasn’t a strategy. We were just struggling. It was talking about how to do this thing that we both love but seems kind of insurmountable.”

As with so few actors, that dream was finally rekindled through sheer nerve and the luck of who you know, when another lifelong friend, actor Sarah Paulson, agreed to pass along Pascal’s audition for Oberyn Martell to her best friend Amanda Peet, who is married to “Game of Thrones” co-showrunner David Benioff.

“First of all, it was an iPhone selfie audition, which was unusual,” Benioff remembers over email. “And this wasn’t one of the new-fangled iPhones with the fancy cameras. It looked like s—; it was shot vertical; the whole thing was very amateurish. Except for the performance, which was intense and believable and just right.”

Before Pascal knew it, he found himself in Belfast, sitting inside the Great Hall of the Red Keep as one of the judges at Tyrion Lannister’s trial for the murder of King Joffrey. “I was between Charles Dance and Lena Headey, with a view of the entire f—ing set,” Pascal says, his eyes wide and astonished still at the memory. “I couldn’t believe I didn’t have an uncomfortable costume on. You know, I got to sit — and with this view.” He sighs. “It strangely aligned itself with the kind of thinking I was developing as a child that, at that point, I was convinced was not happening.”

And then it all started to happen.

In early 2018, while Pascal was in Hawaii preparing to make the Netflix thriller “Triple Frontier” — opposite his old friend Isaac — he got a call from the film’s producer Charles Roven, who told him Patty Jenkins wanted to meet with him in London to discuss a role in another film Roven was producing, “Wonder Woman 1984.”

“It was a f—ing offer,” Pascal says in an incredulous whisper. “I wasn’t really grasping that Patty wanted to talk to me about a part that I was going to play, not a part that I needed to get. I wasn’t able to totally accept that.”

Pascal had actually shot a TV pilot with Jenkins that wasn’t picked up, made right before his life-changing run on “Game of Thrones” aired. “I got to work with Patty for three days or something and then thought I’d never see her again,” he says. “I didn’t even know she remembered me from that.”

She did. “I worked with him, so I knew him,” she says. “I didn’t need him to prove anything for me. I just loved the idea of him, and I thought he would be kind of unexpected, because he doesn’t scream ‘villain.'”

In Jenkins’ vision, Max Lord — a longstanding DC Comics rogue who shares a particularly tangled history with Wonder Woman — is a slick, self-styled tycoon with a knack for manipulation and an undercurrent of genuine pathos. It was the kind of larger-than-life character Pascal had never been asked to tackle before, so he did something equally unorthodox: He transformed his script into a kind of pop-art scrapbook, filled with blown-up photocopies of Max Lord from the comic books that Pascal then manipulated through his lens on the character.

Even the few pages Pascal flashes to me over Zoom are quite revealing. One, featuring Max sporting a power suit and a smarmy grin, has several burned-out holes, including through the character’s eye. Another page features Max surrounded by text bubbles into which Pascal has written, over and over and over again in itty-bitty lettering, “You are a f—ing piece of s—.”

“I felt like I had wake myself up again in a big way,” he says. “This was just a practical way of, like, instead of going home tired and putting Netflix on, [I would] actually deal with this physical thing, doodle and think about it and run it.”

Jenkins is so bullish on Pascal’s performance that she thinks it could explode his career in the same way her 2003 film “Monster” forever changed how the industry saw Charlize Theron. “I would never cast him as just the stoic, quiet guy,” Jenkins says. “I almost think he’s unrecognizable from ‘Narcos’ to ‘Wonder Woman.’ Wouldn’t even know that was the same guy. But I think that may change.”

When people can see “Wonder Woman 1984” remains caught in the chaos the pandemic has wreaked on the industry; both Pascal and Jenkins are hopeful the Dec. 25 release date will stick, but neither is terribly sure it will. Perhaps it’s because of that uncertainty, perhaps it’s because he’s spent his life on the outside of a dream he’s now suddenly living, but Pascal does not share Jenkins’ optimism that his experience making “Wonder Woman 1984” will open doors to more opportunities like it.

“It will never happen again,” Pascal says, once more in that incredulous whisper. “It felt so special.”

After all he’s done in a few short years, why wouldn’t Pascal think more roles like this are on his horizon?

“I don’t know!” he finally says with a playful — and pointed — howl. “I’m protecting myself psychologically! It’s just all too good to be true! How dare I!”

[rottathehuttlet]

din djarin/luke skywaller popeye (1980) dir. robert altman au

when you think about it mando really is the popeye of star wars

[jupitersmoon167]

I posted 4,397 times in 2021

62 posts created (1%)

4335 posts reblogged (99%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 69.9 posts.

I added 712 tags in 2021

#pedro pascal - 154 posts

#the mandalorian - 92 posts

#din djarin - 71 posts

#fic review - 71 posts

#us politics - 66 posts

#star wars - 64 posts

#suez canal - 64 posts

#narcos - 45 posts

#ever given - 45 posts

#javier pena - 40 posts

Longest Tag: 88 characters

#oh god if my mind serves me right the last movie i saw in theaters was rise of skywalker

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

WORDS CANNOT EXPRESS HOW HAPPY I AM

IVE BEEN WAITING 4 YEARS FOR THIS DAY

10 notes • Posted 2021-01-20 17:53:52 GMT

#4

Its 9pm where I live but I just had to get this story idea out

Oh my god I just came up with a great idea for a fic.

Ok, so I’ve recently finished reading @scribbledghost Agent Whiskey x Reader series “Multitudes”, and have been following @blueeyesatnight recent Pero Tovar x Reader series “The Cross” (both great reads, highly recommend reading them). I’m also a big fan of x Reader stories that have an Earth centered Reader interacting with Star Wars characters. Both stories and my fascination with these types of stories have sparked an idea for a fic. 

Hear me out.

A Javier Pena x Reader fic where the reader is from the 21st century, and somehow ends up in late 1980′s Columbia. 

Look, I just need to read a scene of Javier Pena interacting with a Reader who’s from the future, talking to him about the 21st century and discussing all the problems that occur in the future because Javier and Steve’s generation didn’t do anything. And if we really want to get into it, the Reader could also be a recovering addict, showing Javier that even 30 years into the future, drug use is still a problem. Either that or the reader smokes weed since its mostly legal.

I’m typing this on like 30% brain power, so I hope this makes a lick of sense to the people reading this. And if anyone’s interested in knowing more about this little idea, hit me up. 

13 notes • Posted 2021-04-14 03:11:46 GMT

#3

GUYS THIS IS NOT A DRILL

NEW SPIDERVERSE SEQUEL TRAILER IS OUT NOW

I REPEAT

NOT A DRILL

15 notes • Posted 2021-12-05 01:13:41 GMT

#2

So I just watched WW84 last week, and ever since then it’s been clashing with my obsession with The Mandalorian. And then I thought, “man, imagine if Diana went to space and met Din.” And my mind has been spiraling down this rabbit hole of crossover shipping.

Long story short, I now ship Din Djarin/Diana Prince and I hate that I do because there’s no content whatsoever.

15 notes • Posted 2021-01-08 01:33:16 GMT

#1

Just saw the Spider-Man: No Way Home teaser trailer,

AND HOLY SHIT

HOLY SHIT

16 notes • Posted 2021-08-24 02:57:19 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

[fanfoolishness]

Star Wars Confessions

Tagged by @lastwordbeforetheend to post 5 confessions about Star Wars!

1. I first remember seeing Empire Strikes Back when I was 4 or 5, and by the time I was 10 I was thoroughly hooked on Star Wars. My mom used to see ESB WEEKLY in 1980 with her friends for a year, and both she and my dad were always huge Star Wars fans. I've had periods in my life where I'm more or less interested in it, but have always counted it as an interest. However, The Mandalorian is the first SW property that's ever nudged me into full-on fandom.

2. As a kid I got $5 for allowance every 2 weeks, and every 2 weeks I would check for new Star Wars figures at the store, which were $4.99. I had over 30 of the classic 90s 3.75" SW figures, including weirdoes like the Rancor Keeper in addition to Luke with Yoda in the backpack and Lando with his lovely cape. Sadly out of all of them I only had one Leia, dressed as the bounty hunter, and no other female characters. Now that I've gotten into Mando, I've been accumulating a small army of newer 3.75" figures and the Black Series 6" figures, which now include both versions of Din Djarin, the Armorer, Cara Dune, Greef Karga, Kuiil, IG-11, and Bo-Katan, not to mention favorites from the original trilogy and the sequels. It's nice to not really grow up. XD My Tatooine-dust-smudged R2D2 still beeps with his original battery, more than 20 years later.

3. This is my first fandom I've been really prolific in yet haven't written a single romantic story for. Most of my Steven Universe fanfic was gen but there were smatterings of Connverse and Rose x Pearl and Rose x Greg, but the only things I ship Din Djarin with are sleep and friendship. I admit to being truly baffled by the Mando x Reader/Pedro x Reader genre and not getting the appeal at all. I'm glad people are enjoying themselves with it, but it doesn't make any sense to me, and I don't understand why people have chosen that instead of making OCs or self-inserts; maybe I'm just getting old! I'd never seen it really before this fandom (after writing fic for the past 20 years in several different fandoms). Definitely one of those cases of different strokes for different folks. More power to anyone who enjoys it but I'll be in the gen corner :)

4. I wrote an extremely hilarious and dorky friendfiction with my friends and I as Star Wars Phantom Menace characters in high school. Anakin was played by the fetal pig we had in biology class and I was the Jar Jar character because I knew my friends would probably be mad if I made one of them Jar Jar.

5. Pre-Covid, I loved going to Galaxy's Edge in Disneyland dressed as either Rey or a Resistance pilot, and would often spend an afternoon or evening in Batuu, sketching my surroundings and just soaking up the atmosphere. It was so incredible walking in and truly feeling like I'd gone to another world beneath a different star, and seeing so many details that really made me feel like I was in a galaxy far, far away. Looking forward to returning later this year hopefully, and recapturing some of that joy, this time in a Din Djarin outfit with a Grogu at my side <3

Tagging @art3mys, @fake-starwars-fan, and @thecagedthestral if you would like to play along, or anyone else who wants to post their confessions!

[dear-indies]

Good afternoon Cat and Mouse! Can I please get help with a fc that can pull the gruff stoic anti hero that reluctantly takes a munchkin under their wing to protect them? Someone like Frank Castle/Wolverine/Din Djarin? Ethnicity doesn't matter just as long as they're in their mid to late thirties. Thanks in advance!

Andrew Lincoln (1973) 

Daniel Wu (1974) Chinese.

David Harbour (1975) - has bipolar disorder.

Álvaro Morte (1975) 

Alexander Skarsgård (1976)

Matt Czuchry (1977)

Tom Ellis (1978)

Daniel Brühl (1978)

Omar Sy (1978) Fula Senegalese, Mauritanian.

Santiago Cabrera (1978) Chilean [Spanish, Basque, French, Belgian/Flemish, English, Irish, German, possibly other].

Nagase Tomoya (1978) Japanese. 

Ian Anthony Dale (1978) Japanese, possibly one quarter Portuguese / English, German, French-Canadian.

Luke Evans (1979) - gay. 

Travis Fimmel (1979) 

Nonso Anozie (1979) Igbo Nigerian.

Joel Kinnaman (1979) Swedish Jewish / German, English, Scottish, Irish.

Sam Heughan (1980)

Vidyut Jammwal (1980) Jammuite and Kashimiri Indian. 

David Giuntoli (1980)

J. D. Pardo (1980) Argentinian / Salvadoran.

David Gandy (1980)

Fawad Khan (1981) Pathan Pakistani.

Ricky Whittle (1981) Afro-Jamaican / English.

Joseph Morgan (1981) 

Michiel Huisman (1981) Dutch Ashkenazi Jewish / Unspecified. 

Matt Ryan (1981)

Russell Harvard (1981) - deaf. 

Joe Taslim (1981) Chinese-Indonesian.

Matt Lauria (1982) 

Sam Adegoke (1982) Nigerian. 

Tom Payne (1982)

Elyas M’Barek (1982) Tunisian / Austrian.

Mahesh Jadu (1982) Indo-Mauritian [Bihari, Gorakhpuri and Kashmiri]

Daveed Diggs (1982) African-American / Ashkenazi Jewish.

Aidan Turner (1983)

Brett Dalton (1983)

Ed Skrein (1983) Ashkenazi Jewish / possibly English.

Alex Blue Davis (1983) - trans. 

Michael Malarkey (1983) Lebanese, Italian-Maltese / Irish, German.

John David Washington (1984) African-American. 

Garrett Hedlund (1984) 

Brian Michael Smith (1984) African-American - trans. 

Joseph Gilgun (1984) 

Richard Cabral (1984) Mexican.

Brant Daugherty (1985)

Sidharth Malhotra (1985) Punjabi Indian. 

Here ya go!

[dinandgone]

Fic Recommendations Pt 6:

Hi 👋, well it’s that time of the week again where I share some of the writers whose works I’ve been loving at the moment. Please go and show them all the love they deserve!💕

Quick Disclaimer: A few of these fics are 18+ so as always if you are a child the door is there➡️🚪, please close it on your way out, thanking you. Individual warnings are on the fics themselves 

Cyare(Series)~ (Din Djarin x Fem!Reader) by @queenofthefaceless - I’ve fangirled over Ari’s talent before in my Fic Recommendations but guess what? I’m going to do it again because the way she writes is just 😚🤌. This fic with the reader and Din’s dynamic is so good, and I can’t wait for more. You can find their masterlist here. 

The Flames of Fate(Series)~ (King!Din x Fem!Reader- Medieval AU) by @im-poe-dameron (Their main blog with equally as fantastic marvel fics is @moonlight-prose ) - there’s only two chapters so far but oh boy is this good so many possibilities and its written so beautifully, I can’t wait for it to resume. 

Quick mention to Hypnotized~ (1980s Din x Fem!reader) also by @im-poe-dameron which is a drabble from the Black Velvet series (One of my favourite fics on here) and oh my Iz.exe stopped functioning after I read this, it’s just short of 1k words but still rendered me speechless. You can find their main masterlist here. 

The Traveler(Series)~ (Jack ‘Whiskey” Daniels x Fem!Reader Western AU) by @silksaddle - Oof where do I start? This AU is just written perfectly their writing really transports you to a whole other world with this fic, which takes immense skill particulary because it’s an AU. And Jack’s character in this is just 😚🤌*mwah* the smooth talking rascal that he is. You can find their main masterlist here.

Absence of Judgement(Series)~ (Marcus Moreno x Fem!reader) by @asta-lily - Oh man this fic. The way Lils writes is honestly phenomenal. The talent shines through every chapter, it’s really difficult to effectively lace emotion into fics especially with this trope but she manages to do this flawlessly and in such depth. Ah I’m utterly hooked every sentence just holds onto my attention. You can find her main masterlist here. 

Cursed(Series)~ (Helmut Zemo x Fem!Reader) by @clints-lucky-arrow - If any of you have been keeping up to date with my fic recs y’all know Mack is like a resident recommended writer almost every week, but she just keeps on producing pure gold and I can’t not recommend her wonderful writing. I am in love with this fic the most recent chapter was amazing and though I expected nothing less it blew me away. The depth that she writes the reader and the complexity of the characters is amazing and it just draws you in because it feels so real. I can’t wait for future chapters. You can find her main masterlist here. 

Ad Astra(Series)~ (Din Djarin x Fem!Reader) by the lovely @second-stars-totheright (her main blog is @rattlethe-stars) Stars is honestly one of the best writers I know and this fic doesn’t fall short. The most recent chapter that I’ve just finished and it blew me away... I just the way she writes Din and the readers relationship hits different. But not only that when you’re reading it it really transports you into the story and the descriptions are so layered and in depth. If you couldn’t tell already I am in love with this fic. You can find her main masterlist here. 

[the-purity-pen]

Art Masterlist

All artwork listed here is my own. Please do not redistribute without permission or appropriate credit.

updated 11/23/21

Pedro Pascal - 01/21/21

1980s Din Djarin - 02/12/21

Ben Barnes - 02/17/21

Javier Peña - 02/19/21

Oscar Isaac - 02/22/21

Marcus Moreno - 2/26/21

The Darkling - 3/3/21

Ben Barnes (Charcoal) - 3/5/21

Ben Barnes (Oils) - 4/21/21

Tom Hiddleston - 4/24/21

Ben Barnes - 6/28/21

Black Widow - 7/1/21

Darklina - 10/5/21

Ben Barnes - 11/18/21

Jessie Mei Li - 11/23/21