I… don’t want to think about how long it’s been since I posted the last chapter. But the next chapter is ready and I’ll probably throw it up in a week. Or maybe over the weekend. We’ll have to see how I feel.
Warnings: Language, Din gets Protective, it’s Moving Day, Peli is snarky.
Word count: 1.7k
Chapter 17: In which there are answers
The pounding finally stopped hours later. Your shoulders dropped once the noise subsided, and you slumped a little. You were exhausted. It had been a long day.
And you still nearly jumped out of your skin in fright when the door opened.
But it was just Djarin, stepping into the room and pausing when he saw you and the child sitting together, and Peli burning low in her logs.
“What happened?” He demanded, striding over to you and dropping to kneel in front of you.
I’ve been thinking about monster versions of the Pedro boys ever since I wrote this horny fever dream - and thanks to this ask from @sweetangel0069 I am back on my bullshit. I imagine this as sort of a Mr. Darcy, regency period type of thing only Demon Din is a feminist icon because that’s what we do here.
Enjoy some Demon!Din.
Pairing:Demon!Din x F!Reader
Word Count: 3.5k
Warnings: (18+ NO MINORS) **pussy-eating** language, age-gap (legal, reader is of age) dirty talk, supernatural elements, sexist society, sexist comments from readers father
The moon was full and bright, it drew your eye as you finished the small glass of water in the silent kitchen.
The manor was blessedly quiet at this hour and you took advantage of it. Everyone was asleep and it felt as though you could steal a few blessed moments of peace. No mother hovering and nagging about your lack of a suitor. No sisters gossiping or bickering - no overbearing father to deal with and just like you’d been doing since adolescence, you dallied.
I’ve been thinking about monster versions of the Pedro boys ever since I wrote this horny fever dream - and thanks to this ask from @sweetangel0069 I am back on my bullshit. I imagine this as sort of a Mr. Darcy, regency period type of thing only Demon Din is a feminist icon because that’s what we do here.
Enjoy some Demon!Din.
Pairing:Demon!Din x F!Reader
Word Count: 3.5k
Warnings: (18+ NO MINORS) **pussy-eating** language, age-gap (legal, reader is of age) dirty talk, supernatural elements, sexist society, sexist comments from readers father
The moon was full and bright, it drew your eye as you finished the small glass of water in the silent kitchen.
The manor was blessedly quiet at this hour and you took advantage of it. Everyone was asleep and it felt as though you could steal a few blessed moments of peace. No mother hovering and nagging about your lack of a suitor. No sisters gossiping or bickering - no overbearing father to deal with and just like you’d been doing since adolescence, you dallied.
I know I haven’t posted in forever, but I’m still very much weak for Paz and continue to obsess over him (and the wife I gave him- I mean look at her ugh).
WC: 2,552 part 1 part 2 Tags:eventual smut 18+, explicit language (swearing but in a fancy olde english kinda way), descriptions of violence and harassment
It happened in a second: The stall vendor exchanged the coins in your hand for a clay pot of powder and the sellsword’s hand closed around your forearm. You didn’t know the order in which the events occurred even as they did- before you could process either of them you were being pulled away from the scene.
You tried to pry your arm free from the man’s grip but he already had you moving, tugging you in between the market stalls towards a slim alleyway between two buildings. Behind you, the general roar of the market grew muted.
If you’d thought anyone was going to jump to your aid in a bustling city where the occurrance of a man dragging a woman somewhere was as insignificant as a pidgeon shit then you were stupid. But you weren’t- you’d learnt well enough that the only person who would always come to your rescue was you.
“Let me go!” you dug your heels into the ground and summoned the momentum to finally tear your arm from his hold. But the sellsword was stronger than you.
“Stop struggling.” He said as he took the pot from the cradle of your hand and hefted you over his shoulder in one fluid motion- just like he had done to the bounty- continuing to weave though buildings and skinny streets.
“How dare- you beast, put me down!” You wished you had brought a knife with you as you would have had the perfect vantage point to wedge it in the gap between his pauldron and the beskar mail.
But before you could think of another way to escape his hold, you were being let out of it.
The sell sword let you down on the stone alley way and as soon as you found your footing, you struck him across the face.
“Gods, woma-” He barely reeled from the force of your slap but he was blinking hard at you, eyes beginning to deepen in the dim light. He could hold you in place with his gaze alone, “How long have you been wanting to do that?”
A squeak threatened to leave you. But despite the flustered effect he dared on you, you glared at him. “From the first moment I laid eyes on you.” Then you snatched back your pot from the crook of his arm.
The corner of his lip curled slightly and you were reminded of the other things you had wanted to do since you saw him. But the way he looked at you, eyes raking over you again, made you feel like he knew every single illicit dream you had had. Like an animal, his nostrils flared and his eyes darkened as if he could sense the rising heat in you, his hands on you. He glanced away and the look was gone. “What are you doing here?” He asked you.
“Pardon me- is this yourcity?” you asked back, perplexed– as if he was not the one to literally lift you from your perfectly mundane errand!
“It’s beyond what you’re capable of handling.”
“Excuse me?”
His smugness was replaced with astonishment, one long (strong) arm shooting out to the side in frustration, “If I hadn’t pulled you aside when I did you would have been ambushed by the thieves I saw watching you- or anyone for that matter! You do not knowthis city- how can you–”
“What does it matter to you what happens to me?” You interrupted.
He clicked his tongue. “You think I have no morality, is that it, woman? You think I’d like to watch you get robbed or assaulted?”
“You have no qualms about grabbing me like that, though! Just when I thought you couldn’t care less for a woman’s dignity.”
The sellsword hummed. His composure returned to normal- aloof. “Its not my job to be gentle. And so- I’ll ask you once more: What are you doing here?”
You thought about striking him again, about just leaving, but with the way that both of you refused to acquiesce you’d likely stay in place all night. “Since it matters so much to you- Kuiil is still fevered,” you motioned to the clay pot in your arm, “I needed things to make a remedy for him.”
He looked you over again. “And you have everything?”
“Yes.”
“Good.” The sellsword nodded, “Come with me.” He stepped beside you and took your arm.
This man seemed insistent on vexing you. But he already had you on the move again, tugging you (as opposed to the way he dragged you before) alongside him. “Have you lost your mind?!”
He scoffed at you, leading you out of the alleyway and back into the bustle of the city streets. “You will. This city isn’t safe.”
Despite his demeanor, you found yourself somewhat more willing to go along with him- or maybe you just preferred not to waste more time confronting him. And you had to admit there was something comforting (albeit frustrating) about being escorted by such an intimidating man.
You observed in awe how people avoided him by instant, parting crowds with ease. “Certainly not with you in it.” you muttered under your breath, though loud enough for him to hear.
…
“Sit down here and don’t speak to anyone.” Din said, encouraging you to sit at the end of the bar. “I won’t be long.” As he stood up fully he wasn’t ignorant to the urges you inspired in him- urges he’d been fighting since he saw you in the market.
Actually, he hadn’t stopped thinking about you- not since the night he walked into your inn looking for his bounty. He’d much rather have left with you thrown over his shoulder.
You rolled your eyes at him as he turned, and it gave him a certain amount of comfort that you could hold your own… though among the patrons of Karga’s Keg tavern, Din couldn’t be so sure.
Greef Karga was hardly royalty but no one would know it looking at him. He adorned himself in chains and brooches and often a fine half-cape that was embroidered and heavy; all of which made him stand out among those which filled his bar. Din found him quickly this way, tapping him on the shoulder so as to get his attention away from the tourney knights across from him who had him engaged in a hearty laugh.
Greef beamed up at him when he turned. “Ah! If it isn’t The Guild’s greatest man!” After Din nodded to him in greeting, Greef gestured beside himself, “Sit, friend. You must hear of what happened in the lists this morning.”
Din didn’t sit. “My apologies, but I’ve only come to discuss the next bounties, Karga.”
Greef hummed, “So be it.” and he excused himself from the passionate retelling of the knight’s tale.
Hidden from the view of the rest of the patrons, in a small meeting room in the back of the tavern, Greef Karga handed the sellsword a small purse of gold.
“You’ve done well, friend.” He said, watching as Din counted out the pieces. 9 gold crowns and 7 silver crows. “Although, I must pose my previous offer to you again.”
“I don’t want it.”
“These bounties pay a lot more gold though-”
Din tied the pouch shut again. “I earn enough gold.”
Greef sighed at the man. “Enough to survive maybe. But wouldn’t you like to buy some land, raise a family- warriors, that’s what Mandos say right?”
“Right.” It was true- the amount he had just earnt would provide for him little more than a week, and that was without a proper roof or hot food. “But surviving is enough for me.”
“You’re one in a million.” Greef smiled.
Din didn’t smile back. “No amount of gold would make me take a knee for the crown.” The joyous laughter of the tourney knights permeated through the door.
Oh, to be a Knight. Such a life sought glory and honor, taking sweet maids and the favor of high lords– only to then be at the mercy of the same lord, or the crown; to be used as a rich man’s pawn when dirty deeds needed doing. A wasted life, Din thought. He would never allow his honor to rest upon another man’s hunger for power.
Greef Karga worked for the crown, yet he was far from being a hired sword. He worked on the King’s council as an informant. Of what he informed, (outside delegating bounties) Din did not care to know; his duty to the man was merely a duty to his own purse.
“I understand.” Karga said. He took out a rolled parchment then, sliding it carefully over to Din, “But there are always otherprospects for you, my friend.”
Din recognised the seal as that of the late King. Tentatively, he pried open the wax seal and spread the scroll out. One word jumped out at him. “Arvala?”
Greef inclined his head, “A good swordsman is hard to come by as you know- and one of excellent skill even more so.” He stood then and Din slipped the paper into his pocket. “Think about it, Mando. I’ll see to sending you another bounty before the week’s out.” he stretched out his hand.
Din shook it, “Thank you.”
…
He knew he shouldn’t have taken you with him to Karga’s Keg- but now, as he walked back into the main room of the tavern, he really wished he hadn’t.
Standing over you- leering- was a man. One he’d seen lurking in the corners of Karga’s like a spider- Toro. Toro was always hounding other Guild members for their bounties, always looking for a way to bribe himself the kind of notoriety that came with years of experience and scars.
And Toro was saying something to you, pointedly too with the way his entire frame stretched over the spot you sat in, his hand pressed against the wood of the table. Din would not let this spider pounce.
Din was crossing the room in an instant with his hand locked to the hilt of his sword. But before he got halfway to you, you were standing. And with a move you only carried through on impulse, you slapped Toro across his face.
You spotted Din then and he met you halfway. Without even thinking about what he was doing, Din took you by the hand and pulled you around his body.
“Who let you back in, Calican?” The words came out of him in a steamy breath, his blood boiling with unspent adrenaline. Din hated few people. After all, most criminals did what they did out of desperation more than vile will… most. Toro wasn’t a criminal (or rather- not one that was bounty worthy) but he was arrogant and entitled to the extent where he wouldn’t take “no” for an answer.
But the reddening mark on the side of his face took his confidence down a peg or two. A satisfied smile threatened to disturb Din’s stony glare. “Where’d you find this one, Mando?” the younger man smirked, eyes lingering on your form. “She’s a feisty one, huh.”
Din wanted to run him through. “Karga’s is Guild Members only.” He spoke through gritted teeth but the disdain sept through the gaps- almost like a primal hiss. “You shouldn’t be in here.”
The chatter in the tavern had died, casual conversation forgotten when there was a fight stirring.
Toro huffed a laugh, “You’re the only one who doesn’t want me here… now your little squeeze, here-”
This time you struck him right in the middle of his face, the impact punctuated by a harsh cracking sound. Toro swiped a hand under his nose, smearing a track of blood across his face.
Oh~ Good girl, Din thought.
There was a chorus of hollers and whoops from around you both, the sound of a door slamming shut declaring the end of the imminent brawl. “What is the meaning of this!?” Karga’s voice projected across the room.
Din hauled Toro into the center of the room by his upper arm. “Calican is far too young to be in here and his constant harassments on the women in here have gone largely unpunished.”
Karga nodded solemnly, “I’ll handle him, mando.” he said, coming over to stand opposite you. “My apologies, dear- this behavior is most certainly not-”
Din cut Karga’s speech short, taking you by the arm again- though noticeably gentler now. “We’ll be on our way now, Greef.” And then he led you back through the tavern door, picking up your basket from the table on the way.
…
“Still think I can’t handle myself?”
The sellsword shook his head at you. “Calican is a kid- nothing compared to what’s really out there.” He looked down at you again and when he realized he still had a hold of you, he let you go. “What if you ran into a man like me?”
It was true, Toro was significantly smaller than the sellsword and he had nowhere near as much armor on. You met his eyes, “I have run into a man like you- or had you forgotten that night already?”
He came closer then, dangerously so. The honey tones you had seen in his eyes were churning now, deepening further and further. “Then why haven’t you broken my nose yet?” He said lowly.
You gulped. “Y-you’re tempting me.”
You thought he’d pull away then like he had before but his hand came up to your face. One gloved finger traced the edge of your mouth and your lips parted with a shaky breath. The corner of his own lips tugged up ever so slightly, amused by the blush that you were certain was taking over you. “You’re stubborn…” The sellsword removed his finger from you. “We’re taking my horse.”
You reeled over his words, spluttering, “You still insist on seeing me back to the inn?”
You’re decidedly indignant but you follow him anyway to the stables at the end of the lane. His pace is considerate, striding slowly so you can keep up. “Yes.”
The sellsword’s horse was beautiful- a large black great horse with a striking silver mane and tail. He attached a leading rope from his horse to Kuiil’s mule, Blurg while you stroked the forelock of his great horse.
“Her name is Crest.” he said softly.
You smiled, “Crest.”
He then held out his hand to help you mount his horse which you took. However he made no move to stand aside for you to access the reins- instead he pulled you closer, moved your hand to his shoulder and wrapped both of his hands around your waist. With ease, the sellsword lifted you up into the air and onto Crest’s saddle, your basket tucked close to your chest.
Din followed you wordlessly, mounting his horse behind you in the saddle. He reached around you on both sides carefully, taking the reins and prompting Crest to start moving.
He tried to resolve himself to focus on the journey ahead and to not let his attention fall to the curves of your form in front of him. But his faith in his own ability to do so fell quickly when you leant back into his chest.
This would be a long ride.
__
FIRST AND FOREMOST: SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG TO UPDATE- I’ve literally been stuck on finishing this chapter forever because the pacing was so off– not that I managed to fix it or anything, this is still a hot mess but its something!
