#at that moment he cared more for the safety of the others than the ship | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

trashytoastboi · 3 months

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Can I request headcanons of Luffy, Zoro, Sanji and Ace with a sleepy head S/O? They just love sleeping and taking naps.

Hiya! Sure thing! My apologies for the long wait on your request and hope you enjoy ~

Headcanons: Luffy, Zoro, Sanji, Ace with Sleepy head S/O – They just love sleeping and taking naps

> (Gender Neutral) <

Monkey D. Luffy

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🍖 Luffy could always find {Name} in their favorite nap spot. They had developed little napping corners, all throughout various places on the ship. Some were cozy, others unusual. Luffy initially found it to be entertaining like a game every time he had to seek out another new place that {Name} dubbed as their sleeping spot. He had even adopted some to be his own sleeping corners that he would share a refreshing nap or two with {Name} especially after a big meal. He didn't understand how one could sleep so often but nevertheless, {Name} had their moments of energy. Although everyone could agree it was an unusual match up considering how low energy {Name} is compared to the ever energetic Luffy.

🍖 Luffy loves that {Name} is so trusting of him that he could move them around in their sleep and instinctively they’ll know it's him and won't wake nor stir. Simply entrust themselves to him. That trust is a precious thing to Luffy, and he would never seek to betray it. Out of curiosity they had tested if it worked with anyone else on the crew and with the exception of Chopper, no one else was able to even touch {Name} without waking them up. Knowing that they don’t stir or get disturbed Luffy is still always careful when handling them while sleeping.

🍖 It goes without saying that naps are a daily occurrence, {Name} enjoys napping with Luffy. It’s a two in one, they get to sleep and spend time with their beloved. How could they possibly pass that up? Especially after a delicious meal served by Sanji, a satisfied stomach makes the eyes heavy. {Name} already heads to their spot of the day and Luffy follows. I mean nothing beats a post meal nap, and it’s only got all the upsides. He does find it surprising that {Name} can easily sleep more than Zoro but when you’re tired, you're tired. He’s understanding of that given the amount of times he would see Ace just fall asleep in the middle of things. He wouldn't even wait until after the meal until he was passing out.

🍖 Luffy has tested how deeply they sleep. He’s poked, prodded, tickled, raised a ruckus and yet they slept through it all. Honestly you’d need that kind of deep sleep to survive the craziness of the Straw-Hat crew. He also finds it adorable how they koala to him. If they sense that Luffy is near they’ll stretch, shuffle and pull him into a surprise snuggle. Which 99% of the time also results in Luffy deciding to take a nap too.

🍖 Luffy can tolerate a lot, but there are some sleep habits that just don’t fly with him. He can tolerate the blanket stealing, snoring and cold feet. But the sleep talking- specifically sleep talking about food is just one of the worst habits {Name} has. It makes Luffy so unbearably hungry that he has to go and find food as soon as possible, even if it means getting through Sanji and the padlocked fridge.

🍖 {Name’s} sleeping habits, believe it or not have actually gotten a lot better. One of the trickiest things to deal with, was {Name} falling asleep in the middle of fights. One second they’re dominating, next someone is yelling to rescue them before they’re injured because they decided to stop, drop and nap right on the spot. The only saving grace was that their adversary was so stunned that they just stopped fighting momentarily, which gave Luffy an opportunity to save his partner and take them to safety. Which usually entailed tossing them as gently as he could to some random corner.

Roronoa Zoro

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⚔️ Zoro never thought he’d meet someone who shares his need to nap. If not more so, he appreciates that they understand. Who can refuse the true beauty of a good solid nap, you wake refreshed and energized, sometimes a little hungry but right as rain. Sleep was the magic cure all, and {Name} embodied that. When awake they were sleepy, yawning and dazed as if they were constantly on the verge of going to bed. Zoro finds it charming in his way, and {Name’s} constant bedhead is something he also finds quite adorable. He’s even gotten to the point of being able to rate the quality of their naps based on their bed hair. A neat little party trick. Not that he could say he’s met someone that sleeps that match, so he likens his partner to a cat because that’s the only creature that comes to his mind that naps as much as {Name}

⚔️ All of Zoro’s napping spots became {Name’s} napping spot and underwent a metamorphosis, to become extra comfortable. A whole upgrade, things were far more comfortable than Zoro thought possible. {Name} had the magic touch, Zoro swears that he had never in his life ever slept that comfortably. His partner was genuinely happy that they could make his naps, along with theirs a little more peaceful and accommodating. Hell, even Franky swore left and right that they must use sorcery because he couldn’t see HOW it made any sense. {Name} has often said that to understand the art of sleep, one must sleep a lot.

⚔️ Zoro wasn’t much of a cuddler, not at first at least. He would fall asleep his usual way, on his back with his hands behind his head. Sometimes he’d be holding his swords and other times he’d just lay on his side on the deck. {Name} would scoot, shuffle and shift until they were snug against him, comfortably and using Zoro’s chest as their pillow. They said it was the best pillow and it was hard to nap without. Eventually Zoro got so used to them, that he just always fell asleep expecting {Name} to eventually join him. Oddly enough Zoro discovered he was quite the big fan of snuggling. Having them in his arms, and feeling the warmth of another person was so comforting. Unless there was a heatwave, being the only exception when {Name} didn’t cuddle up with him.

⚔️ Zoro never knew whether to be impressed, entertained or creeped out by the fact that {Name} could hold full conversations in their sleep. They’d said it’s all basic and autopilot answers. There were plenty of times when they weren’t supposed to be sleeping and at least being able to answer questions and speak saved them a lot. If someone tried to wake them they would simply reply “I’m not sleeping, just resting my eyes.” The most common excuse in the book is that someone would ask a second question and [Name} would respond, even going as far as being able to make small talk. All for the preservation of a good nap..

⚔️ Constricting. Zoro absolutely detested this strange sleep habit of his partners. For literally no reason, their cuddles would turn into crushing death grip, strangle holds and gentle arms turned into constricting snakes that would have Zoro being crushed. He thought it was related to dreams, nope. Come hell or high water, good dreams or bad. {Name} would get these random moments when they would just tighten their grip and send Zoro into mild panic until he wakes them up or slips out of their hold. Now it’s just a thing that happens and he handles it easily, the first few times however were nothing short of terrifying.

⚔️ Well Zoro has had his fair share of badly timed naps, during a crisis when he’s napping so soundly. But one thing he wishes {Name} would work on, is having no sense of crisis. Mid fight and they’re eepy? Sleep. The amount of fights he’s had to undertake with {Name} slung over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. If not that, then falling asleep in the bath and literally fearing for his partner drowning because they decided to take a quick nap in the bathtub.

Sanji

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🍽 Cute, so cute, adorable- precious. Sanji has many adjectives to explain his partner, not that they ever do any justice because {Name} exceeds them. He thinks their sleepiness is adorable. Sounds odd, but seeing how they yawn, eyes barely open and they waddle towards Sanji to hug him and wish him a good morning, nuzzling into his chest as the warmth lulls them back to sleep. Sanji is literally trembling from how cute that is. “{Name-chan} You should go back to bed.” He helps them back to bed, and even prepares the usual. {Name} gets an exemption from the dining table to enjoy a leisurely breakfast in bed, benefits when one’s boyfriend is the chef.

🍽Absolutely adores what a snuggle bug they are. Sanji loves it. If he’s cooking they’ll usually hug him, leaning into him while he’s busy. They’re half asleep mumbling half asleep answers, occasionally being fed bites to taste test while Sanji deciphers and translates based on their hums and mumbles. If he’s sitting down, they want to use his lap as a pillow, if in bed, they’re snuggling him. Sometimes they intentionally seek Sanji out, pouting until he agrees to join them in a nap just so they can cuddle him. He loves the affection.

🍽 {Name} has gotten Sanji into the habit of taking naps too, in the small time gap after lunch and before dinner. Sanji originally didn’t see the appeal, only if he had a poor night's sleep, then he’d do it for a boost of energy. Ever since {Name}, naps were his daily ritual. His little bit of me time, and thankfully he convinced {Name} to sleep in relatively normal places. Some of their previous places were questionable if not downright dangerous. One long lecture later, they shuffled around until napping spots got Sanji approved.

🍽 Sanji discovered the greatest joy he has. {Name} who is always extra ravenous after waking up from a nap. They say food always tastes better after a nap and eat whatever Sanji serves up with such enthusiasm that it genuinely touches his heart. He loves being able to cook and prepare light meals, snacks, anything they crave really after a particularly good nap. Even with their sleepy and low energy selves they express such clear excitement for whatever Sanji cooks up.

🍽 Sanji has very little to complain about when sharing a bed with them at night, the only thing he’ll probably say was tricky to get used to was how much {Name] moves around in their sleep. They change sleeping positions every so often, occasionally banishing the pillow from the bed unintentionally or throwing the blanket off, Sanji always wakes up to return their pillow and cover them again. This happens a few times a night, even if they’re cuddling sometimes {Name} will very abruptly change their sleeping position and smack Sanji in the face, giving him a nosebleed. (Oh the irony)

🍽 Sanji was wholly curious about what would happen should {Name} not sleep as much for a day. Satisfying his curiosity they didn’t nap and it was hard. They were so groggy and tired it made them sluggish. They grew irritable beyond belief, and grumpy. They would hug Sanji everytime they walked past but instead of enjoying it, they would leave almost immediately saying it would make them sleepy. Sanji knew that naps were like snickers to his partner. Because {Name} wasn’t themselves without having a nap.

Portgas D. Ace

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🔥 Ace is very high energy, he is always in go mode. Ironically until he has those sudden naps that recharge him for his next bout. {Name} found that relatable and cute on Ace’s behalf. Meeting while he napped in his soup probably wouldn’t make the best first impression to most. {Name} reassured him it's quite alright. It happens to them often too. Ace took it as a joke, not exactly knowing that it was almost the truth. {Name} is so sleepy all the time, that a couple of instances of falling asleep in their food was actually pretty commonplace. Ace thinks it’s cute though.

🔥 {Name} loves sleeping with Ace, he’s always warm and loves cuddling as much as they do. Ace enjoys seeing them so peaceful and undisturbed, he strokes their head to calm them and it works. It soothes {Name}, anytime they’re with Ace and he starts doing that, it’s guaranteed that they will fall asleep. He knows it too, he doesn’t mind if they fall asleep though. Ace takes it as a sign of their trust in him, enough to fall asleep near him and entrust them with their safety. That trust is something precious to Ace even if it stems from something like sleeping near him, he still values it.

🔥 {Name} will occasionally ‘kidnap’ Ace to join in their afternoon naps. One minute he’s socializing with the crew, the next {Name} is sprouting up out of nowhere trying to drag him to their favorite napping spot, which of course is decided at the time. In consideration of a few key factors, such as the weather, the sun, the wind, comfort factor, and {Name’s} mood of the day. Do they want an indoor nap? Outdoor? Is it cold or hot?

🔥 One of the most entertaining things for the crew to witness is Ace trying to escape from {Name} after they’ve fallen asleep. Him trying to stealthily slip out of their grasp and every time they stir, threatening to wake up he freezes. Holds his breath in this game of red light, green light until he’s finally free. Eventually he shuffles a pillow closer to act as his body double as {Name} snuggles into it and goes on sleeping without a care in the world.

🔥 An annoying sleep habit that {Name} has is ‘mood swings’ in a sense, one minute they want cuddles, snuggles and fine, the next, they want their own space and roll away from Ace or violently boot him out of bed (All unintentionally), Ace never knows when the mood will shift. One moment he snuggles, the next he dodges an elbow, a knee, a foot and resorts to sleeping on the cold side of the bed, banished to the forsaken realms until [Name} is rolling back towards him.

🔥 Ace learned to deal with his adorable partner who just curls up and sleeps on any comfy surface, even if it’s an inappropriate place that could potentially be dangerous. The amount of times he believed his heart would give out when he saw half of the strange and perilous places his partner fell asleep in. Ace had the tendency to worry about them and made {Name} promise that even if they’re tired they have to hold on endure until they get to a comfortable and safe location above all.

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hoony2k · 5 months

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SWEET CRAZY LOVE!

things enha does that make your words stutter, face heat up and heart sick with sweet crazy love.

PAIRING: 7/7

GENRE: fluff

WARNINGS: skin ship, mentions of chaste kissing

NOTE: hiii everyone! I went though emotional turmoil and I came to the conclusion that took several weeks but I am back and will clean and organise the blogs soon! until then, here's dinner.

★ HEESEUNG: a listener

Just one look at him and it's so evident that he's the type lean forward to hear people better. It starts with a small curious and innocent "hm?" And then he'll lean towards you and tilt his head downwards even if you're at home without environmental noise. If you stand on your tiptoes to whisper something in his ear, he'll automatically bend his knees so you can reach his height comfortably. (That heejake video is canon idc). The worst part is that he doesn't even know what he's doing because it comes as an instinct, being taller than most of his friends, so he doesn't even have the slightest clue how your stomach does backflips when he tilts his head closer to yours to hear you. The proximity combined with his perfume…killer.

★ JAY: late night whispers

Has the softest expression on his face when you talk about random things. He's so engrossed that he doesn't notice your pause as you admire the gentle look in his eyes, full of love and the soft smile he wears when he gazes at you like that. It looks like he's going to fall asleep any moment but his eyes aren't full of sleep but something more precious. It only occurs when he's completely vulnerable and feels safe around you. He looks at you like you hung all the stars in the sky and painted the night- just for him. In those peaceful moments, he's just staring deep into your eyes while you try your best to entertain him and not make eye contact as if your life depends on it (it does).

★ JAKE: subtle tender actions

His attention and care reside in the way in which he goes out of his way to protect you. It may seem natural but you notice how he always pulls you to the secure side of the pavement and walks near the road, during meals he places the most delicious item on your plate mid-conversation, keeps extra gloves and platform shoes for you in his car, zips your jacket for you. Notices when someone cuts you off and slowly brings you back into the conversation while eyeing the person (if it was intentional). No matter what he does, his focal point is to ensure your happiness and safety. It's the sweetest thing ever and fills you with love knowing you can rely on someone like Jake.

★ SUNGHOON: skin on skin

It's like he needs to hold/touch you or else he won't be able to function. Not necessarily in a sensual way. It comes to him as easily as breathing. He slides his hand into yours when you're sitting, plays with your fingers and then brings your palm to his mouth to place a soft kiss. He enjoys your flustered state and is aware of his hold on you but it's all about love, not authority. He wants you to be close to him, as physically as possible, although he attempts to appear non-clingy. Pulls you nearby the loop of your jeans, and rests one hand on your leg and the other on the steering wheel. If you're preoccupied, he'll come behind you to wrap his arms across your form and kiss the crown of your head. He loves you, so why wouldn't he want to embrace you, hold you close, and feel each other's heartbeat?

★ SUNOO: secret admirer

He has this undying desire to observe you do your usual tasks. Whether it's wearing your makeup, doing your skincare routine, doing assignments or even when you're watching tv- he'll be admiring you from the side, cheek squished against his palm, eyes twinkling- he is NOT ashamed or shy about it. He has no reason to be, you're his lover and he can not fathom how you exist. Admires each minuscule movement and commits it to memory. Sometimes you'd complain you can't focus and he'd laugh it off and tell you to not be dramatic…doesn't take him a couple of minutes to resume. On days when you're far too gone to do anything for yourself, no self-care, wiping off makeup, too tired-he'll do it all for you with ease and with surprising practice. He knows how you do it after all.

★ JUNGWON: eye contact

There is no way he's having a conversation without making eye contact. The eye-eye-mouth ratio is crazy because while you're scrambling to seem normal and not as if your face is seconds away from heating up he's staring at you like you hung the stars in the sky. Casually brushes your hair out of your face and tucks it behind your ear mid-conversation, he pauses his words just to let his soft fingers graze your burning skin, momentarily blanks out as he admires you before his mind circuits him back to the moment. Then he thrives off the pure adrenaline rush in seeing your resolve melt. Also sometimes twirls your hair strands in his fingers mindlessly as he speaks for added heart-thumping effect.

★ NIKI: everywhere I go, I see you

Niki loves silently, but brightly. He's got pictures of you in his wallet and smiles every time he opens it up to pay, which is often because he doesn't let you pay at all. Mostly because he believes you shouldn't have to worry about this stuff on a date when you should be having fun and also because it gives him an excuse to see his favourite picture of you. Changes the picture each month, your outfit and pose would differ but your smile stays the same and so does the flutter in his heart. He treasures things irrelevant things you give him like tissues with your lipstick stains stuffed in his jackets, a collection of a couple of polaroids are stuck next to his bedside, an unopened toothbrush waiting for you if you ever spend the night, but the most precious item is the necklace of your initial he hides under his collar.

thank you sm for reading!

all rights belong to hoony2k. please do not translate/edit/copy.

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ginnsbaker · 9 months

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Bulletproof (9/10)

Part Summary: Leaning in, her lips hover just inches from yours, the warmth of her breath mingling with yours. “Tell me,” she urges softly, “that I'm not the only one drowning in this.” Instead of telling her, you show her.

Chapter word count: 3.9k+ | Tags: Smut (18+ only), Resolved Sexual Tension, F*cking finally | Ship: Wanda Maximoff x Gender Neutral Reader

Author's Note: The plot here has gone out the window. Enjoy!

Next Part | Series Masterlist

It’s late when Wanda returns to the makeshift home you’ve shared together for the past week. The floorboards groan a bit under her feet, even though each of her steps are light and calculated. Before she even gets to the bedroom, she hears your snores. It's soft, but there's a certain comfort in knowing you're just a room away. As she stops by the door, she smiles, thinking about how these small moments mean everything to her.

At the Avengers compound, things were, well, fancy. High-tech rooms, polished floors, and everything she needed, just a button click away. But it always felt more like she was at work, clocking in and out, than actually living there. It was all so... neat. Too neat.

But this place—it's different. The mismatched chairs, the odd draft from that one window that doesn't shut quite right, and that weird stain on the living room rug they can't seem to get rid of. It's messy, but it feels real. It feels like home.

And of course, there’s the other fact that she knows you’re here, waiting for her to come home.

Wanda eases into the bedroom with a soft tread, careful not to disturb what she believes is your deep sleep. There's a tired, yet hopeful glint in her eyes. She'd been out, and she did meet with Steve like she told you, but he wasn’t expecting her eventual return this morning. He scolded her—along with her accomplice, Vision—for disappearing without a word, but he eventually understood how much Wanda cared about your safety to abandon her duty and break the protocol. While he didn't revoke her suspension, he did lengthen it. This extension, ironically, freed her from the confines of the compound, allowing her to remain by your side without any official obligations holding her back.

She has news, potentially game-changing information, and she's eager to share it with you. But seeing your slumbering form, now's not the time.

She delicately sits on the edge of the bed, taking off her shoes and preparing for rest. Gazing at you, she's taken in by your soft snoring, the slight frown that occasionally appears on your brow, and the tranquility of your face—unburdened by the recent revelations of your past. She can't help but trace the curve of your cheek with her fingers, no longer unable to control herself from touching you.

Noticing the covers that have slid down, she carefully pulls them up, ensuring they sit snugly around your shoulders. She leans in, hesitating for just a split second, before softly pressing her lips to your forehead.

“I miss you,” she murmurs. “Every moment, every day. I wish you could remember me. All of me.”

With those heartfelt pleas, Wanda sinks down beside you, hoping that perhaps, in dreams, you might find fragments of who you used to be, of what she meant to you.

…and in dreams, you do find a semblance of it.

The sound emanates from Wanda, who is deeply entrenched in another dream. It’s evident from her restless movements and the soft moans escaping her lips that it's intense, and again, not entirely innocent. The sensations she’s feeling in her dream seem to ripple out, wrapping around you too—even in sleep.

A pulsating energy begins to stir you from your own slumber. Your senses heighten, and on the brink of intense sensations, you claw your way to consciousness.

Your eyes fly open, pupils dilating rapidly in the dim light. Cold sweat dampens your forehead, and your chest rises and falls at an erratic pace. The vivid images of you and Wanda, intimate and passionate, flood your mind, refusing to fade. You swallow hard, trying to push away the remnants of the dream, the warmth it evoked, and the very real longing it has stirred within you.

Pulling the sheets tighter around your body, you try to regulate your breathing. You turn to Wanda, her cheeks stained with a deep blush, her lips slightly parted. Taking a deep breath, you gently nudge her, whispering her name. She blinks, her deep-set eyes clouded with remnants of her dream, and it takes her a moment to focus on you.

Her cheeks are flushed, her breathing uneven. “I... I'm sorry,” she mutters under her breath, recognizing what’s happening again.

“So this happens often?” you ask, deliberately choosing your words, attempting to steady your racing heart and the electric buzz between your legs.

She wavers, taking a moment to collect herself before nodding slowly. You notice her squeezing her thighs together, and you try to pull your attention away from that.

Wanda takes a deep, shaky breath. “We were supposed to talk about it, you know? About what's happening, about what we're feeling... about how much we mean to each other. But then the attack happened, and…”

The silence that follows her confession is thick, but not uncomfortable. It feels like the stillness before the dawn, an in-between moment, pregnant with possibilities.

“How do you feel about me?” you finally ask. Now that your eyes have adjusted to the dark, you can make out her silhouette and the subtle rise and fall of her chest as she attempts to steady her breathing.

Gathering her courage, she finally looks up at you, her eyes a storm of emotions. “I like you. No, it's deeper than that. I yearn for you. But it feels... inappropriate, wrong even, to act on those feelings when you don't remember any of it. It feels like I'm taking advantage of you.

“You're not you. I mean, you're you, but... it doesn't feel right to be close to you, knowing that to you, I'm just a stranger.”

Instinctively, you move closer to her, lifting her chin gently with your fingers, urging her eyes to meet yours.

“You're no stranger to me,” you whisper to her.

It’s true. You may not remember the minor details about Wanda, but you do remember the essentials. You know she cares for you, that she’s spent months protecting you and watching over you. You know she would have let you live a simple, ordinary life if not for the resurgence of your powers and the looming threats accompanying them. You know she’d put your best interests before her own; she's proven that in the short time since you two were reintroduced.

You attempt to pull your fingers away but Wanda ensnares them, guiding you to cradle her cheek. Your breath hitches as you sense the goosebumps forming along the slope of her neck. Almost magnetically, your fingers drift over her skin, feeling her erratic pulse.

Wanda's eyes, a deep pool of want, lock onto yours. “Do you feel that?” she murmurs, her voice tinged with both trepidation and longing.

Without waiting for your reply, she closes the distance, her fingers lightly grazing your jawline. Her touch sends shivers down your spine. Leaning in, her lips hover just inches from yours, the warmth of her breath mingling with yours.

“Tell me,” she urges softly, “That I'm not the only one drowning in this.”

Instead of telling her, you show her.

With the lightest of touches, you draw her closer, letting your lips brush against hers in a whisper-soft kiss. Your hands find their way to her waist, pulling her close, while her fingers curl into the hair at the nape of your neck, deepening the kiss. Wanda releases a breath against your lips, and you seize the opportunity, letting your tongue probe past her luscious lips. Her soft moan vibrates against your mouth, urging you to pull her closer, your hand pressing gently yet insistently against her cheek.

Wanda's fingers begin to dance down your collarbone, her lips momentarily leaving yours to trail featherlight kisses along the column of your neck. Each kiss sends rousing jolts down your spine, your skin burning wherever her lips touch.

When Wanda's hands reach the hem of your sleep shirt, she breaks away from your neck, her eyes seeking permission in yours. “Can I...?” she asks, her fingers playing tentatively with the edge of the fabric.

You nod, suddenly breathless. “Yes.”

With that affirmation, she carefully lifts the shirt over your head, her eyes darkening to a point that there’s no longer any green in them.

It’s just pure, concentrated desire that pools there.

Her gaze flits across every inch of your now-exposed upper body, taking in every detail as though it's the first time she's seen you this way. She herself hesitates for only a moment before she slips out of her own shirt, revealing her own sculpted figure. There's a vulnerability in the way she bares herself, as if trusting you with a part of her she doesn't show many.

Your eyes skim over every detail that you can study, the heat in your groin intensifying at each discovery that they find. And then Wanda’s hands travel lower, reaching the waistband of your shorts. She hesitates for a moment, her fingers fumbling slightly with the material. The blush on her cheeks deepens, realizing she's almost crossed another boundary without asking.

“Is this...?” she trails off, glancing up at you in embarrassment.

Your heart warms to her thoughtfulness, but your mounting impatience soon overshadows your gratitude for it. “Wanda,” you murmur, leaning in to capture her earlobe gently between your teeth before whispering, “You can take off anything... or everything, if you wish.”

Wanda doesn’t waste any time after that.

Her fingers are nimble yet tremble slightly, their expedition deliberate and slow, as they trace along the waistband of your shorts, then dip beneath it, teasing the edge of your underwear. Her cool fingertips hit your skin, sending shivers down your spine as she slowly pulls the last piece of your clothing down your hips. Wanda's gaze is fixated, pupils impossibly dilating more when she notes the evidence of your want, a damp trail that marks the fabric. It clings momentarily before she manages to pull it free, the sight making her bite her lower lip. Her fingers trace the curve of your hips, the softness of your inner thighs.

“Y/N...” She looks up from where she's crouched by your feet, her eyes searching yours for permission, for guidance, for a map of where to go next.

Your entire body tingles with anticipation; every single touch, every single glance from her, sends a shock wave straight to your core.

“Wanda,” you find yourself begging, “Please... touch me.”

She raises an eyebrow, the corner of her lips curling into a teasing smirk. “Touch you? Like this?” The pads of her thumb trace patterns over your thighs, never reaching the place you ache for most, but close enough to make you squirm with desperation.

Your frustration mounts, a whimper escaping your lips, “No, deeper... there.” The confession makes your cheeks burn, but your pride is swallowed by the overwhelming need for her.

Wanda chuckles darkly, her hot breath fanning over your sensitized skin. “Say it,” she murmurs, fingers hovering, tantalizingly close but not quite there. “Tell me exactly what you want.”

You gasp, arching towards her, trying to close the distance, but she's swift, holding you just out of reach. “Wanda, please... I… I need your mouth. Please, please.”

There’s a pause, a moment where the world seems to stand still, and then her lips descend. The touch is light at first, teasing, testing, but then it deepens, becoming more insistent. The sensation of her mouth on you is unlike anything else—it's exhilarating, all-consuming. Your fingers tangle in her hair, guiding her, urging her on.

Wanda relishes in the power she holds, drawing out every moan, every shiver, and every gasp. She's just as lost in the moment, just as consumed by the fire that rages between you two. She can’t help but berate herself for delaying this, for going so long without having you this way, for being so stupid thinking for the longest time that you don’t want her the way she wants you.

You taste better than any dream she’s had of you. She’s growing addicted with every swipe of her tongue; she wants more. She wants everything. And if possible she wants it all the time.

The feeling of her mouth against you, combined with her own need evident in the way she's grinding down on the bed, makes your head spin. “Wanda…” you gasp, voice thick with want, “Fuck, you're so good at this.” The crass words roll off your tongue, unfiltered, raw, and honest. Every pull, every tease, has you on edge, gasping, holding onto the bedsheets for dear life.

For a fleeting second, you wonder how many others have known her touch before you. Jealousy flares within, but it's quickly consumed by a wave of throbbing want as she intensifies her ministrations.

Her muffled groan against you sends another jolt of pleasure straight to your core, and the movement of her hips against the bed is testament to her own growing need. But she doesn’t let up, even when you try to pull away, worried about how powerful the building pressure inside you is becoming.

Wanda only pulls back for a moment, to look up at you, her eyes dark with desire. “Give it to me,” she breathes, voice dripping with want. “I want to taste you. Every drop. I want you to mark me, to make me yours.”

That’s all it takes. A final lap of her tongue pushes you over the edge. And as you come undone under her touch, under her mouth, you call out her name, a broken chant of pleasure and surrender. Wanda drinks you in, savoring the taste, the feel of you, the very essence of your pleasure. Her own arousal remains unattended, but she doesn't seem to mind, lost as she is in the act of giving, in the heady satisfaction of having brought you to such heights.

“Come here,” you murmur. Your fingers brush through her hair, guiding her back up to your eye level. There's a stunned pause as you take in the vision before you. Your aftermath paints her lips and chin, making her look sinfully debauched, a marked contrast to the innocent glint still residing in her eyes.

Without a second thought, you pull her into a searing kiss. It's a gentle, tender exploration, which is surprising considering how explicit their previous actions were. You trace your tongue over her chin, cleaning the remnants of your release. The combined taste of yourself on her skin elicits another soft moan from your lips, a sound echoed by Wanda.

Pulling back slightly, Wanda's eyes meet yours. They hold a depth of emotion, gratitude, reverence, and an untamed desire. “Thank you,” she whispers, her voice sweet and ironically innocent, her eyelashes casting feathery shadows against her flushed cheeks.

Your cheeks warm at her words, a blush spreading down to your heaving chest. “Wanda,” you laugh faintly, “It's me who should be thanking you.”

But she merely offers a soft, radiant smile, laying her head in the crook of your neck. She nestles her face under your chin, her breath tickling your skin. The beat of your heart thuds loudly in your chest, a rhythm that lulls her into quietude.

You allow her to rest for a few minutes, simply content at holding her like this. But soon, you feel her wetness dripping against your thighs, sparking a fervor within you, and you're consumed with the urge to give her the same heady pleasure she'd gifted you with, to mark her as irrevocably as she's marked you.

Shifting subtly, you maneuver yourself from beneath Wanda, reversing your positions. With a gentle but determined push, she's beneath you, her hair splayed out against the pillow, eyes shimmering with anticipation. You lean in, allowing the heat of your breath to tease the shell of her ear. “My turn now,” you whisper.

Wanda's hands, previously resting idly by her sides, now grip the sheets, awaiting your next move.

Your hands roam over her body, tracing every crease, every inch of skin that you've longed to touch. Wanda arches into your exploration, her moans growing louder with each teasing caress. You lean down, capturing her lips in a heated kiss, allowing your tongue to dip back into her mouth, tasting remnants of yourself.

Moving from her lips, you leave a trail of soft kisses along her jaw, down her neck, and to the swell of her breasts. Your hands deftly unclasp her bra, releasing her to your hungry gaze. You take a moment to admire her, drinking in the sight of her flushed skin, her dusky, hardened nipples. Leaning down, you take one of them into your mouth, swirling your tongue around it, earning a sharp gasp from her.

As you lavish attention on her breasts, one hand slides down her body, ghosting across the subtle swell of her stomach and then slipping between her thighs. The slickness that meets your fingers stirs your own desires again, and you can't help but murmur, “God, Wanda, you're so fucking wet. All for me?”

Her face flushes, but her voice is husky when she responds, “Only for you. Always for you.”

It’s all the confirmation you need.

You hurriedly hook your fingers under the edge of her soaked underwear, tugging it down and discarding it to the side. Her hips buck into your touch, seeking more, and you give it to her, slipping two fingers inside her. The sensation of her tightness, her warmth, makes you groan aloud. “So fucking tight,” you whisper in her ear, feeling her clench around you as you thrust in and out.

Her breath hitches, eyes glazed with lust as she moans, “Don't stop, Y/N. Please. I need more. I need you.”

Your fingers skillfully dance across her sensitive skin, exploring every inch and fold. Using a gentle circling motion, you focus on her most responsive spot, feeling her reactions and adjusting accordingly. You set a steady tempo, plunging deeper while keeping a rhythmic pace. All the while, your lips remain locked with hers, drowning out her escalating moans. As the pressure builds, her voice rises with each stroke, “Right there! Oh, fuck!”

You can feel her nearing her peak, her body coiling with tension. “Come for me, Wanda,” you utter the command in a low voice. You capture her lips once again, muffling her cries as she tumbles over the edge, her climax washing over her. You ride her through it, prolonging her pleasure until she's left a trembling, sated mess beneath you.

But you're not finished. Not by a long shot.

Wanda's eyes flutter open, slightly glazed from her recent orgasm, assuming that you'd simply come up to cuddle. But she's taken by surprise as you begin your descent, tracing your fingertips lightly over the soft skin of her abdomen, drawing goosebumps in their wake.

She takes in a sharp breath as you gently spread her legs wider, baring her entirely to your gaze. The sight before you is tantalizing—her glistening arousal, her puffed up lips, her clit beckoning, and the trimmed patch of hair that adds to her allure. She’s so beautiful. You can't resist; your mouth practically aches to taste her.

“Y/N,” Wanda breathes.

You glance up at her, locking eyes as you lower your mouth to her, the tip of your tongue barely brushing against her. The taste that greets you is both citrusy and slightly salty, and it has you instantly craving for more. Each lap makes you realize just how addicting she is, her unique flavor imprinted on your tongue, driving you to explore further, deeper. Wanda’s hips jerk reflexively, chasing more contact. Teasingly, you draw slow circles around her clit, drinking in every whimper and moan that spills from her lips.

You spread her open further, revealing every part of her to your ravenous gaze. The darker, tighter entrance catches your attention, and without hesitation, you press a gentle kiss there, relishing the gasp it elicits from her. With a smirk, you drag your tongue from that entrance all the way up to her clenching pussy, letting it flutter against her entrance and then up to the underside of her engorged clit.

“Fuck, Y/N!” she groans, her hands flying to clutch at the sheets, her body undulating with pleasure.

You can't help but chuckle at her response, but the sound is muffled by her wetness, by the intoxicating taste of her arousal. You're consumed by it, by her, and the sounds she's making. “You taste so fucking good,” you murmur wetly against her.

Her thighs tremble around your head, her breathing ragged. “Please,” she whines, dragging the word out, “Don't stop. I need... I need to come.”

You revel in the music of her pleas, the increasingly incoherent babble as you push her closer and closer to the edge. As you slide three fingers inside her, you can feel just how wet she is, how ready. The rhythmic squelch of your fingers moving within her is mesmerizing, and her body responds in kind, tightening impossibly around them, begging for more.

Looking up, you're met with the tantalizing view of Wanda, head thrown back, chest heaving, skin slick with sweat. That sight alone could bring you to your knees if you weren’t there already.

“I’m so, so close, please, Y/N…”

You wrap your lips around her clit, sucking gently, the vibrations from your moans against her causing her to buck her hips. Each movement, each stroke of your fingers and flick of your tongue, is designed to bring her closer to the precipice.

“Wanda,” you hum against her, sending vibrations straight through her, “Let go. Come for me.”

And then, she breaks.

With a guttural cry, her body convulses, pleasure rolling through her in waves. You don’t stop, not until she’s gently pushing at your head, her body too sensitive to take any more. You start to pull your fingers away, but Wanda catches them, drawing them into her mouth and cleaning them with her tongue. After a moment, you slide closer, capturing her lips in a lingering, tender kiss.

“That was...” she starts, but words seem to fail her.

You simply smile, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead. “I know,” you whisper, pulling the covers over both of you, trapping the heat between your bodies.

“Are you okay?” you ask. As the afterglow starts to fade, you remember the purple bruises you’ve left all over her breasts. “Was I too rough? I can... I can try to heal those marks if you want.”

Wanda shifts to look at them, her fingers ghosting over each one. “They'll be reminders,” she says with a small smirk, not sounding too bothered.

“I just want you to be comfortable, that's all.”

“And I am,” she assures, snuggling closer to you, letting her eyes drift shut. “Very much so.”

A few minutes pass with only just the faint, slow sound of breathing. You try to shake off a sudden insecurity that edges into your thoughts, but before you know it, her name escapes your lips.

“Wanda?”

She lets out a sleepy, “Hmm?”

“Was this... Was I... everything you expected?” you ask.

There's a brief pause, and then she shifts slightly, looking up at you, her eyes a little clearer despite her drowsiness. A smile forms on her lips, full of warmth and adoration. “Yes,” she whispers back, “And so much more.”

It's uncertain if you'll ever get your memories back. But this new one and the ones you'll make with Wanda make it less daunting to face a future without a past.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x you #wanda x you #wanda maximoff #unbetad #my writing #my fic #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen #wanda maximoff fanfiction #captain america civil war #the avengers

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thefrogdalorian · 4 months

Note

hi spud! i remembered u did requests & was wondering if maybe u could do like a first kiss scenario w din? 🥺 something soft & yearn-y? aha. no worries if u can't but thanks anyways. 🩷

Hello Senna! Thank you so much for your request! Thinking about a first kiss with Din really inspired me (how does he hide his face from you and still kiss you? What leads up to the moment?? so many questions!!) and this was the result. There is plenty of yearning and some softness sprinkled in but a little angst too (very happy ending though aghhhdkgj). Thanks again and really hope you like it!! 🤍

A New Dawn

Din Djarin x GN!Reader

Word Count: 5107

Rating: General

Summary: Travelling through the galaxy with a mysterious nameless and faceless Mandalorian with a reputation as the best bounty hunter in the parsec would probably terrify most people. Instead, over the months you have known Mando, you have discovered his gentler, more affectionate side. Living in such proximity to the man you have an enormous crush on threatens to suffocate you as you determine that he must never find out. But after a job seemingly goes badly wrong on a forest planet, the fear of losing him will perhaps finally be the tipping point for a new dawn in your relationship...

Content Warnings: Kissing, bit of angst when there's brief panic for Din/reader's safety (happy ending though!), allusions to violence (canon-typical, nothing descriptive/graphic).

✯ My Masterlist ✯ Read on AO3 ✯

Upon that fateful day on which you had entered an agreement with a bounty hunter, you had been under no illusions that there would be much unpredictability given his line of work. That there would be periods of isolation when he left you behind in his ship while he went in search of his latest bounty. You could be alone on that ship for weeks; well, save for the big-eared, bug-eyed green baby, whose care you had been entrusted with, by the mysterious man who was your employer. When agreeing to travel with The Mandalorian, you had expected the randomness of the path that you cut through the galaxy, journeying from planet to planet depending on his latest jobs. The anguish that came with wondering where he was and whether the jobs were going well as you sat in the Razor Crest and cared for his child. Despite how much it had bothered you at first, you had gradually become used to such emotions. You expected them.

What you had never expected was the fondness you had developed for the man.

The first few times that Mando had headed off the ship for a job, you had been almost nonchalant about his absence, barely noticing the passage of time. You passed your days playing with The Child when you were not fast asleep in your bunk. But slowly and surely, he had begun to mean something more to you. You noticed it in his absence most of all. The ship felt empty without his deep voice and you missed his calm, reassuring presence.

It was strange really, considering that you had never laid eyes upon him. In fact, you had rarely seen him dressed in anything less than his full armour, complete with all the weapons he attached to himself almost ritualistically, without fail, every single day. Even if you were merely hurtling through hyperspace, he was still armed to the teeth. Mando had explained that weapons were part of his religion and his armour was like a second skin to him. You were curious, but not judgmental, about his way of life. It was vastly different to your own and entirely contradictory to anything you had ever heard about Mandalorians before. Even the scant information you had overheard about the formidable warriors in the miserable Cantina where you had once been employed had never included anything about Mandalorians being forbidden from removing their helmets in the presence of others.

Mando had made it abundantly clear, before you ever stepped foot aboard the Razor Crest, that wearing his helmet was a definitive boundary, never to be questioned or pushed. It was his ultimate line in the sand that you were never to cross. You were respectful of his Creed, asking questions with a curious rather than invasive intention which he seemed to appreciate. In fact, rather than driving a wedge between you, his Way had provoked many thoughtful conversations between the two of you.

There were nights you would sit in the cockpit as the brilliant blue trails of hyperspace surrounded you, bonding over your similar pasts. Sometimes, you would wake up in the bunk underneath the tiny hammock that belonged to The Child with no memory of clambering in the previous night. He never admitted it, but you were almost certain that Mando had carried you there himself, putting his impressive physique to use for something other than hauling bounties back to the Razor Crest.

Amongst it all, you had learned his habits and quirks. You learned the way he liked his caf in the morning. How meticulous he was with polishing his armour until it gleamed so brightly, even in the dark of hyperspace, that you could see every detail of your reflection, right down to your pores. You discovered that he cleaned his weapons, taking them apart and checking every inch of them when he was particularly stressed or his bounties were not as straightforward as he had hoped.

Most of all, you discovered how incredibly kind and caring the man beneath the hard, intimidating armour truly was.

Although he had weapons strapped to every inch of his body, Mando could be impossibly gentle. You had witnessed evidence of his ruthless efficiency when he returned to the ship laden with several bounties. Sometimes alive, sometimes dead, though he usually prevented you from seeing the more grisly sights. Yet the man you saw most often of all, moving around the Razor Crest with you as you hurtled around the galaxy, amongst the stars was different to reconcile with the violent nature of his profession.

It was difficult to believe that the hands that had earned him the reputation as the most formidable bounty hunter in the parsec due to their proficiency in neutralising even elusive targets were the very same hands that were impossibly gentle when placing The Child in his hammock. The same hands that had extinguished countless lives had been used to rock the little one after he awoke from the nightmares that frequently plagued him. Nightmares that plagued Mando, too. But you had never been bold enough to bring up the tossing and turning you had heard from his bunk pretty much every night since you had started travelling with him. Despite the relatively personal conversations and information you had gleaned from him, it still felt a step too far. You didn’t want to cause him to shut down by prying, especially not after he had seemed to become genuinely comfortable in your presence and show you the gentler side of his nature.

You felt so privileged to see such a side to him. It was a side that you had never expected to witness. After all, you had been utterly terrified the first time you encountered him, when he strutted into the run-down Cantina you worked in. He was impossible not to stare at, clad in that unpainted armour that glinted when the light hit it in just the right spot. You had never seen a Mandalorian in the flesh before, but you had heard plenty of legends about them. Mandalorians were famed across the galaxy for their ruthless, lethal accuracy and formidable fighting skills.

That feeling of gratitude had soon developed into something else, though. A feeling that you would class as affection, albeit affection that was veering dangerously close into the territory of a four-letter word that your mind could not even contemplate. A feeling that would be all too dangerous to harbour for a man who you still felt you knew so little about.

You were certain that your feelings for Mando were doing untold damage to your health. Living in such proximity to a man you harboured a devastatingly intense crush towards would one day succeed in suffocating you. Your chest ached whenever he was near, knowing that there was no possibility he could ever reciprocate your feelings. You knew that your love would remain unrequited. Above all, you knew that he must never, ever discover the depths of your affection towards him.

There were more than a few times you had dissolved into tears during a few moments of solitude in the ‘fresher; your salty tears mixing with the hot jets of water from the Razor Crest’s shower. One particular occasion, when your feelings had left you particularly devastated, was the evening when Mando had returned from his latest job, during which he had to terminate the asset after one escape attempt too many. The asset’s termination would result in a lower fee and you knew that was partially the reason for Mando’s frustration. Yet, despite his reputation, you also knew that he did not relish killing bounties, much preferring to lure them back to the ship and freeze them in carbonite. In everything you knew about him, it appeared that Mando did not get a particular thrill from killing people that he, personally, had no qualms with. Although you knew that if anyone ever threatened even one white hair on the wrinkled little head of The Child, Mando would not hesitate to cut them down where they stood.

That evening, The Mandalorian’s exasperation had been evident from the second he had returned to the Razor Crest, ordering you and The Child to hide in the cockpit while he stored the remains so you would not have to witness such a gruesome sight. You knew immediately that the job had not been easy and your heart ached for him. When Mando had given you the all-clear, you had descended the ladder down to the main hull of the ship with shaky hands and legs. Your trembling limbs did not come from the fact you were descending the rungs one-handed and carefully cradling The Child in your other arm, you were well used to that. No, you were dreading seeing Mando so frustrated… because of the way it made you feel. Seeing him so wound up, knowing that you were the one to put his pieces back together in your own subtle way thrilled you. It was a dangerous prospect.

“I take it the job wasn’t successful?” You questioned, tone neutral. You attempted to appear as nonchalant as possible as you handed The Child to him. You hoped that taking the little one in his arms would go some way to calming him down.

“No,” Mando responded, definitively. His tone of voice made it abundantly clear that he did not want to discuss the matter further with you.

“Perhaps I could put The Child to bed, while you take a shower?” You offered, wanting to do anything to soothe his frayed nerves.

Mando shook his head.

“I’ll do it, thanks,” he added gruffly.

You nodded before turning your back and climbing the ladder back up to the cockpit to give them their space. There was hardly any privacy in a ship so compact. Sometimes it could feel slightly claustrophobic aboard the Razor Crest, but you and Mando had worked a pretty good system out by now so you did not feel as though you were constantly on top of each other. You learned that he was a surprisingly patient man and did not express his anger in the way one might have expected from one capable of so much violence.

It was no surprise when you descended the rungs a while later to find him standing in front of the weapons cabinet, broad shoulders tensed as he examined his impressively-stocked armoury. You didn’t say a word, wondering whether he was about to tell you to return to the cockpit and leave him alone. Though you hoped that he would interpret your presence as a comforting one, not an invasive one.

“Could you pass me the cleaning cloth, please?” Mando asked.

“Of course,” you replied, opening the crate where he kept his cleaning equipment. You selected the cloth that you knew he favoured and handed it to him, the corners of your lips curving upwards in a slight, shy smile.

“Thank you,” Mando said appreciatively as his gloved hand rested on your upper arm and squeezed it gently. You sensed that he was thanking you for much more than passing him the cloth. Something about his touch and the way he said it had sickened you to your core.

“I‘m gonna take a shower,” was all you managed to say, before you turned away from him.

You had practically sprinted to the ‘fresher then, needing privacy more than anything as you crumbled. As tears streamed down your cheeks, you tortured yourself over and over asking the same question:

How could a man capable of such violence be so gentle with you?

Your soul was truly tortured by the feelings that you held for this man.

It was that moment you thought of now. A moment amongst many others, as you sat and waited for Mando to return from his latest assignment. You were accustomed to days turning to weeks and weeks even turning to months on the rare occasion. It was a solitary experience, just you and The Child in the Razor Crest. You would not see another life form for weeks. Nor would you speak to anyone other than The Child. You weren't always certain whether he understood you. Mando always left a comlink with you, but it was reachable only by him. It was strictly for emergencies. In all the months that you had travelled with him, it had never once sounded when he was off on a mission. It had led you to wonder whether it even worked at all.

Occasionally, Mando would permit you to leave the ship but on particularly hostile planets, you were confined to the silver hull of his home, with just your ration packs and the mysterious green child for company.

This particular planet was one of such peril. Thus, Mando had forbidden you from leaving the ship. Although you always respected his demands, for The Child’s as much as your own sake, you adored the little guy, the loneliness was beginning to eat into your gut and make you feel grouchy after such a long period of isolation. Mando had told you that he expected the job to last no more than three days, but it was ten since he had crept out in the dead of night, armed to the teeth in pursuit of a crime lord who had made one enemy too many.

As you lay back on the bunk, thinking of the man who had unexpectedly left such a deep impression on your heart, The Child began mewling. You instantly sat up, sighing softly as you reached into his hammock and stroked the end of one of his large green ears between your thumb and forefinger.

“What’s up, buddy?” You questioned, rocking him gently and hoping that you had prevented him from dissolving into gut-wrenching sobs.

The Child just gazed at you with his big brown eyes, expression unreadable.

“Do you want something to eat?” You asked, often knowing that the way to soothe his heart was through his stomach.

The Child finally gave some indication of what was wrong with a small nod and you opened the door to the bunk and made your way towards the fortunately still well-stocked cupboards. Fortunately, Mando was fastidious in always ensuring there was enough food for the two of you. You appreciated that all the more as you gave The Child a bar which he wolfed down in only a couple of bites, despite his tiny frame. He had been fed barely an hour ago, but the little guy had a voracious appetite.

With a newly full stomach, you hoped that the little womp rat would finally get some sleep when you returned him to his hammock. Yet, as you lay back on your own bunk, you found that you could not settle.

Time became an illusion after so many days cooped up in the Razor Crest and despite the late hour, according to your chrono, you found that you were wide awake. There was nothing to do except pace around the Crest.

You must have paced around the Crest enough times to cover the circumference of the planet when you were finally on when a sound caused you to stop in your tracks. It sounded like a faint crackle from where your comlink rested on some crates, forgotten and discarded. Until now. You barely had time to react before it chirped into life, with the sound of a familiar deep voice crackling slightly suddenly blaring from it.

Mando was calling your name.

You darted across the hull and scooped up the comlink from its position on top of the very crate from which you had fished out cleaning supplies. You were startled by the fact that Mando was actually using it.

“It’s Mando,” he panted, tone desperate. “Listen, things aren’t looking good. If I’m not back by sunrise, take The Child and run. Promise me, you’ll get out of there. Promise m–”

Before Mando could finish and much less, could you even respond, the line went dead.

You stood there, startled by the turn of events. Your mind racing with thoughts. Where would you go? Which supplies should you pack? How far away was sunrise from now? Could you even use a blaster to shoot an enemy down, if needed? What were you going to do without Mando? How would you take care of The Child alone?

You wanted to sink to your knees, shout and scream. That was not an option. You knew that you had to keep going. Mando had wanted you to vow to him, which you would have done in a heartbeat had the line not first been cruelly cut. Even if he could not hear you, you still wanted to pledge your word to him.

“I promise I’ll protect The Child, Mando,” you whispered, clutching the comlink to your chest as tears streamed down your cheeks silently and the realisation that you could find yourself alone in the galaxy once more dawned upon you.

You spent the next couple of hours packing and then repacking as many bags as you could manage to carry and pathetically practising gripping a blaster. Mando had demonstrated once or twice, in case you ever found yourself in a bind. You were certainly in one now, but the adrenaline coursing through your body made it near impossible to remember such careful, deliberate instructions. You contemplated the fact that he had chosen you for a reason, to care for The Child. Whatever such a reason was, it seemed futile now. You were in no fit state to care for anyone.

The guilt threatened to overwhelm you as you spent a few precious minutes watching The Child sleep, blissfully unaware of the anguished state his caregiver was currently in. Your heart ached for him. The bond he shared with Mando was something beyond words and you knew he would be devastated. How could you manage to take care of a distraught child and keep him safe from the same evil forces that had taken his father?

You checked your chrono, heart sinking as you realised how close sunrise now was. Your heart thundered in your ears as you ascended the ladder for what was almost certainly the last time, your head peeking over the floor of the cockpit as you saw the pitch blackness of night gradually giving way to the lighter shade of blue that indicated that sunrise was imminent. As soon as the sky was flecked with oranges and pinks, you knew you had to obey Mando’s command and leave.

You imagined him, frightened and injured, stumbling his way through the thick trees you could just about see from the cockpit, desperately fighting to return to you. You willed him on, hoping against all odds that he would make it back to you, safe and sound. You would berate him for putting himself into such a dangerous position. Then, you would piece him back together and prepare him to do it all over again. You were hopelessly devoted to him. Now, such devotion had placed you in this position. Alone, once again.

Alas, despite a valiant effort, Mando's return was not to be. He had tried his best, but it was not good enough. When the sky blazed brilliant bronze, you knew it was time to go.

You descended the rungs for the last time, bidding a silent farewell to the ship where you had found so much happiness with such an unlikely companion and his even unlikelier son. You felt a lump in your throat, your eyes filling with tears as the finality of the moment dawned on you. Then, you exhaled and pushed your shoulders back, imagining yourself wearing armour like Mando. You had to do it, for him. You had to grant his dying wish. You had to be brave for The Child.

You were only two paces from the bunk when you heard it. The unmistakable whirring of the Razor Crest’s door opening. It was a sound that usually signified Mando's return. This time, though, it signified your imminent demise.

You were frozen to the spot, then. You were certain that the forces that had gotten to Mando were now here to finish you and The Child off, too. You contemplated reaching for the blaster that was in the bags just a few steps away, but you knew it was futile, given your inexperience. The forces that had murdered your Mandalorian would make short work of someone as inept as you. The best you could do was give yourself up, so that The Child may live. Hopefully, he would be undetected in his bunk, sleeping soundly despite the bloodshed just a few paces away.

You shut your eyes and thought of Mando, wondering if you were about to join him. You braced yourself for a blaster shot that never came. For it was not the alien sounds of a mysterious, threatening entity that your ears detected emanating approaching your position. No, it was not that at all.

Instead, you stood there, aghast as the familiar heavy, even thuds and slight clinking of armour echoed with every step up the ramp of the Razor Crest. The reassuring sound finally reached through your frayed nerves and your eyes flew open as you spun around in disbelief. This was not the end. There was no threat. Instead, there was an instantly familiar sound, one that you had feared you would never hear again. The noise signalled to you that somehow, against all odds, he had returned to you.

“Mando?” You questioned, momentarily terrified that an enemy holding a blaster would appear into view behind him.

“Sorry about that,” Mando huffed and you realised that particular fear was unfounded. “Job got a bit messier than I anticipated.”

The only indication of the gravity of his situation that had necessitated his desperate message was the evidence of numerous blaster shots that his armour had clearly taken, given the black marks on its otherwise pristine surface. The corners of your lips curled up in a knowing smirk. You knew he would spend most of your journey to the next planet cleaning every single plate with painstaking attention to detail.

“But th-the you used the comlink?” You stuttered, aghast at his sudden appearance in the Razor Crest.

“I did,” he confirmed. “And were you about to leave?” Mando asked as he entered the ship and approached you. You were unable to reply with words, suddenly feeling incredibly choked up. You nodded and gestured towards the bags you had hurriedly packed.

“Good,” Mando nodded approvingly.

“I thought you were…” you shook your head, unable to finish that sentence and vocalise the dark places your mind had travelled.

“Dead.” Mando finished for you.

You nodded again. You would almost be amused by his familiar bluntness were you not still so shocked by his presence.

“I had sharper reflexes,” he shrugged cockily, a simple explanation for events that you were sure were far more complex than he was letting on.

“I thought I was alone. I thought I… I thought I’d have to leave here and never see you again,” you stammered, voice cracking at the thought. “Did you at least complete the job?”

“Yes,” Mando nodded. “Proof of termination was sufficient and I acquired it,” he explained, deep voice slightly hoarse thanks to the force that he had undoubtedly exerted in completing such a perilous job.

“I don’t know if I want to kill you, or kiss you right now,” you sighed, shaking your head in disbelief at his accomplishment. Then, the realisation that you had finally given voice to your most intimate thoughts dawned on you. You clapped your hand over your mouth, eyes widening in horror. You were utterly mortified.

Mando was unmoving, which only added to your panic. You noticed the way his hands clenched into fists briefly and he sighed deeply. Then he tilted his head slightly and unclenched his fists.

“Close your eyes,” Mando commanded.

Although his voice was quiet, something about the way he said it struck fear into your heart. There was a darkness to his voice, to his tone that terrified you. You were certain that he was going to punish you for such a remark. You had always been slightly afraid of him despite the gentleness he had shown you. Now, it appeared that those lingering fears were well-founded. He was probably disgusted by you. He had taken you in when you were at your lowest, given you a job, a bunk and a purpose.

Yet, he had unknowingly given you so much more than that. It didn’t matter anymore, though. Especially not now that you had let your feelings get the better of you. You were convinced that he was going to kick you out, convinced that there was absolutely no possibility that he reciprocated your feelings for him. Mando hated you. You were certain of that.

“Mando, I’m sorry. I didn’t mea–” you stammered, eyes still widened in horror.

The presence of soft leather against your skin abruptly cut your frantic apologies off, mid-utterance. His glove was warm across your forehead, nose and cheeks as his hand dwarfed your features. The loss of vision that came with his gloved hand covering your eyes stopped all coherent thoughts in your brain. The hiss of his helmet depressurising, a sound you had previously heard only through the door of the ‘fresher, made your heart quicken until it was beating with alarming speed. Then, the feeling of his soft lips moving gently against yours caused it to stop completely.

You were struck by two things. Firstly, the fact that the man you had been certain was dead, was not only very much alive but was presently moving his lips against yours. Secondly, underneath his helmet, Mando apparently kept a moustache. You could feel the bristles of his facial hair tickling slightly as his lips claimed yours in a tender kiss.

You were certain that your heart was going to give out if your knees did not first, momentarily fearful that you would send the pair of you crashing in a tangle of limbs to the hard, metallic surface of the Razor Crest’s floor with a thud. Fortunately, you happened to be kissing the most formidable bounty hunter in the parsec, who soon wrapped his spare arm around your waist and demonstrated, in the way that he held you, all the strength and certainty that had gained him such a reputation. You smirked against his lips as the hand that was not currently covering your eyes trailed up your back, travelling across your body over the coat that you had pulled on in preparation for your imminent departure from the Razor Crest.

The movement of your lips together was electrifying. It confirmed that the connection you were certain had been building between the two of you was real. It felt so natural, as though you had always been destined to be pulled into each other’s orbits in this way. You felt chills traverse your skin as your brain perceived the scent of his glove, given its proximity to your nose. At once, you could smell the story of his perilous brush with death. There was the distinctive smoky scent of explosions, the sharp metallic smell from his ever-steady grip on his blaster, the earthy undertones – no doubt thanks to days of traipsing through undergrowth, – the musky smell that was unmistakably masculine, unmistakably him and finally, the faint hints of leather. As you registered each scent, you were reminded, once again, of the lethality this man was capable of. A man who was currently kissing you with such fondness and affection.

When your lungs started to burn – from the exhilaration or oxygen deprivation, you weren’t sure – Mando finally pulled away, leaving you breathless and dizzy from the events which had just transpired between the two of you. You smiled and bit your lip in glee, as the realisation of the monumental shift in your relationship that had just occurred hit you. You hoped it had not been a one-off, a fleeting moment of carelessness on his part that he would come to regret.

“You couldn’t kill me anyway,” Mando whispered, his breath hot against the shell of your ear. You were stunned. Clearly, that was not the case. This had been a deliberate, measured action on his part.

Then, the tell-tale hissing sound indicated that Mando had replaced his helmet. You couldn’t help the fact that your heart dropped a little at the sound. After all, despite how much you respected his devotion to The Way, there was always a simmering curiosity about his appearance. Especially having just kissed him. You could still feel the slight scratchiness that lingered on your skin from the bristles of his facial hair, a ghost of the kiss you had just shared; a reminder that it had happened.

Mando removed his hand from your eyes and you mourned the loss of contact, having relished the way that his hand had engulfed your face with its enormous size as it drowned your features. He always seemed to be everywhere, a looming presence over you.

“Mando, I –” you began, but he raised the same gloved hand that had just rested against your forehead, cutting you off once again.

“My name is Din,” he said quietly before he lowered his hand again.

“Oh,” you breathed, stunned that he had entrusted you with such a precious piece of information.

Although, given the fact that he had just kissed you, perhaps it was a logical step. Nevertheless, you appreciated the fact that you finally had a name to put to the deep voice you adored. Din, not Mando, was the man who had just stolen all rational thought from your mind with the gentle touch of his lips.

You smiled then, the first genuine smile that had graced your features since Din had left the Razor Crest ten days previously. Only a few minutes ago, you had feared that he would never return. Now, just when you had been certain your life with him was over, it appeared that it was just beginning.

As the sun rose over the Razor Crest, still surrounded by the trees of the forest planet you had been certain would be the location of an ending, it was clear that a new dawn was here for you and Din. A beginning was upon you, the start of something beautiful.

It was the first kiss you had shared with Din. But you were certain that it would not be your last.

#din djarin fic #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x reader #mando x reader #mando x you #pedro pascal characters #my fics #inbox #request #suresnips

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the-rat-eatery · 4 months

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Angel Dust’s arc in Episode 4 is so incredibly important to him as a character. It can not be overstated how much I love the direction the team is going with him. He's this person, right, this fundamentally good person, just like most people are, who was born into a bad situation and didn’t really have much of a chance in life, and, therefore, in the afterlife. He is a tragic person, made more tragic by the fact that no one fucking knows the depth of the tragedy. You can see that he’s a good person with how he asks Val not to hurt Charlie in the dressing room, despite knowing that Charlie is far more powerful than Valentino and that he was in the real danger here. You see that he’s a good person with how he gets Charlie to leave afterwards, he is rude and terrible to her, but you can look at his body language (something that we can meaningfully analyze due to this being an animated show and knowing that all the decisions made with the body language and expression are made expressly on purpose), you see how gentle he actually is with her. And he’s a good person that had the misfortune of being in the wrong place at the wrong time– and that led him down a road of pain, and hurt, and addiction. He isn’t wrong in the episode– he does know how to take care of himself. He has all these years, hasn't he? And he's still up and functioning, still a person who cares about other people in the end. And so ‘Loser Baby’ is so incredibly important: to survive, Angel built up this persona of someone who survives. He is resilient, he bounces back from humiliation and mistreatment (there is this moment at Husk’s bar where you can see Angel just– steel himself against Husk’s nagging and continues on with his shit as if he is completely fine), he is an actor, he is perfect and unreachable– but in ‘Loser Baby’ he not only finds actual, real companionship with someone who wants him as a person and not as a body, he also acknowledges his own humanity (“I’m a loser baby”)-- he is at rock bottom, you can’t get much lower than where he is. He’s a fucking loser, by any objective measure. He allows himself to be an actual person instead of a person-a for the first time in who knows how long– and that gives him strength, brings him a friend to fall back on. He’s finally got a safety net in the hotel, and now an emotional safety net in Husk and maybe even Charlie, so he can start to maybe get better.

The strength of this show isn’t going to be in ships or violence or drama. It is going to lie in messed up people getting better, making connections, growing. I think that this is a very delicate balance to be struck, one that should be maintained as the baseline that the show always returns to. I really hope that it doesn’t lose sight of its strength.

#hazbin hotel spoilers #hazbin hotel #angel dust #hazbin hotel angel dust #hazbin hotel analysis #loser baby #hazbin hotel husk

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plussizefantasia · 4 months

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Unsure Hearts

Read Part One Here: Fluttering Hearts

Warnings: Reader gets grabbed, alcohol, I think that's it tbh

an: heyyyy... sorry I was MIA, lots of stuff going on I'll post an update about it soon. In the meantime enjoy part two of the Kili x reader fic from Flufftober. I think this will be a five-part fic including an epilogue and the next two parts are already underway. I've also got some requests ready to be edited and posted soon. Thank you for bearing with me, much love <3

Kili Durin x Human!Soulmate!reader

Word Count: 1.8K

Thorin was getting worried, Kili had become somewhat of a ghost story over the past month. He had assumed that his nephew was simply doing his duty. Kili had volunteered to be the envoy between Dale and Erebor for the discussions of armament and training. However, that treaty was signed a week ago, and said envoy position was no longer needed. So why in all of Arda was Kili still going to Dale every day? The young prince left as soon as he was finished with his daily tasks and didn’t return to the mountain until well after the sun had set. Thorin was not worried for his nephew's safety, after all, Kili was an excellent warrior and could take care of himself, no, Thorin was worried for Kili’s heart.

Fili had also noticed his brother’s absence but the blonde prince had always been a bit more perceptive than his surly uncle. Fili had noticed that Kili was missing, but he also noticed that every time he returned to the mountain it was with the most dopey grin that he had ever seen. A grin that he recognized, for it had also graced his face a few months ago when he met his beloved Alma. Fili would bet his beard on it, Kili was in love.

You on the other hand were getting more and more annoyed each time the brown-haired dwarf walked through the front door. He was charming sure, and polite. But he stared. At you. The whole time he was there. And he was there a lot. His attempts to engage you in conversation were far and few between, the few times he was able to grab your attention away from the bustling building he became tongue-tied the moment your eyes landed on his.

Kili didn’t understand why he couldn’t say more than a few words to you without choking on his words. Your eyes had to hold some kind of spell within them. They enchanted him and left him bewitched every time he caught their gaze. It left him frustrated, he had never had this much trouble with women before, why were you so different? Deep down he knew though, you weren’t just any woman. He was afraid though, afraid that naming what you were to him out loud would make it real. And when it is real, it can hurt you.

There weren’t very many stories on One’s where the love didn’t end up requited, either because it just simply never happened. Dwarves were incredibly stubborn creatures after all, and it was entirely possible that they just wore down their other half until some sort of connection formed. It was also possible that those unfortunate few who weren’t able to woo their other half died of broken hearts. The former was unlikely as Kili kept having to remind himself, he couldn’t die of a broken heart. Right?

He was determined tonight though, to find out definitively if the sparks he felt for you were just interest in the handsome woman from Bree, or if you truly were the other half of his soul. To do that though he would need to say more than a few words to you. The problem with that was that you seemed exceptionally busy tonight.

Busy you were, Brant had told you last night that he was going to be leaving today to go to visit family for some type of emergency.

“If the place is still standing when I get back, we’ll talk more about it becoming yours someday.” He had said. You were hoping that that ‘someday’ was sooner rather than later. Brant was getting up there in years. Just last week he had hurt himself trying to lift one of the barrels of ale that had been shipped in from the Iron Hills. You had been taking on more and more of his old tasks and to be completely honest, it felt like you did the job of an owner anyway, just without all the benefits.

You weren’t going to let the man down though, even if it did mean rushing back and forth all night trying to keep up with demand all by yourself.

“Another! Y/N,” was yelled in front the back of the room. Roland was a boisterous man who got along with everyone, he was only a year or two older than you and was currently on his eighth pint of the night. He had a large countenance and seemed to fill up whatever space he occupied, he was handsome but the more and more he drank the less his looks mattered. Usually, this is the point in the night where he starts bordering more on unruly rather than fun-loving. Nevertheless, he was a paying customer and as long as he could still walk on his own out the doors, you weren’t going to say no to his money.

You grabbed another pint glass and poured one for him, balancing it and several other drinks on a tray. You steeled yourself with a deep breath before running back out into the fray.

Walking close to the stool he was sat on you leaned slightly over him and placed his pint down on the counter beside him. He was engrossed in the conversation between the large group of men, something about the best way to skin a buck, you weren’t really listening. As you grabbed his empty glass to take back to the kitchen to be washed, his large hand encircled your wrist none too gently.

“A pint is a wonderful thing, but it is even more delicious when served by a beautiful lady,” He whispered into your ear. You grit your teeth and roughly pull your hand back.

“Now, Roland, what have we said about touching things that don’t belong to you? Huh? Touch the wrong thing and you might just lose your hand.” You spit back at him. Cutting your eyes up at the mounted swords that rest above the fireplace only a few steps from where the two of you are. “I’d hate to have to clean those swords, they are sharp.” You look back into his eyes, satisfied with the fear that you see within them. You stand back up and place your tray back upon your shoulder.

“Anything else I can get you gents?” You question the other men scattered about the space. Silence reigned over the air for a few moments.

“Alrighty then.”

A pint here, a glass of wine there, and two hot meals delivered later, your tray was empty and everyone in the place seemed momentarily satisfied.

Letting out a breath you lean up against the counter.

“What did you say to him?” A somewhat familiar voice pipes up beside you. You turn your head towards the voice. It's the dwarf prince, and you are once again struck with just how handsome he is. You are also struck with the familiar feeling of annoyance, of course, he picked now to talk to you. Just when you had finally afforded yourself a break.

“Hmm?” You raise a singular eyebrow at him. “Who?”

“That large and very drunk man in the back, I couldn’t hear what you said but I could see the look on his face. It was similar to my brother’s when our mother would scold him for forgetting his manners.”

“That’s not too far off actually, Roland over there got a little too comfortable and touched something that didn’t belong to him, I had to remind him of the rules.”

“And what exactly did he touch that was so forbidden?” The prince smirks and laughs.

You smirk back and lift a glass to your lips before uttering one single word, “Me.”

All of the laughter drained from Kili’s face, “He touched you?” His voice had gotten much lower, his eyes darkened right before you.

You rolled your eyes. “I’m going to stop you right there Your Highness, I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself. I’ve been doing it for years. I don’t need some man, no matter how handsome he is coming to defend my honor every time I’m even remotely slighted. The trail of bodies will get far too long.” You stare into his eyes as you speak, putting all the righteous fury you’ve got stored inside into each word.

Seconds tick by before he opens his mouth to speak again.

“You think I’m handsome?”

“I think that we have bigger problems if that is the only thing you got from that.” You took another sip.

“No, no, no I got the point, you don’t need a big strong man to come to your rescue. Lucky for you, I am not big.”

The laugh that sprung from the back of your throat caught you off guard, you slap a hand over your mouth in an impossible effort to catch it and shove it back inside. He was funny, he had never been funny before.

Kili liked your laugh even though it was closer to a snort than an actual laugh, and he would be foolish to ignore the way his heart picked up at the thought that he was the one who made you laugh.

“You- I- I have never heard of a dwarf who makes fun of themselves, in my limited experience your lot are very prideful.”

“Not as prideful as some other races, I should think.”

“No, you’re not nearly as prideful as the pointy-eared bastards who hole themselves up in that accursed forest.” Your words held a healthy amount of rage as well as teasing.

“I sense that there is a story there somewhere.” Kili raised an eyebrow, mimicking your face from earlier. He was desperately trying not to think about the fact that this was the longest conversation the two of you had had up to date.

“One that I’m going to need a lot more liquid courage before divulging, I’m afraid.”

“We can make that happen.” Kili wiggled his eyebrows and pointed at the bottles of liquor behind the bar that separated the two of you.

At that very moment, a shout from the rowdy bunch of men in the back rang out, calling for another round.

“Duty calls your highness, but perhaps I will tell you that story… another time.” You winked at him and grabbed for your tray again, beginning to load it up once more. If that is how conversations with the dwarf prince went all the time, you wouldn’t mind having them more often.

You walked away before Kili could come up with a response, but he was more certain than he ever had been that your heart called to his. Why else would the very sight of you walking away feel like his heart was leaving too?

tags: @bunnybabe-babydoll @kokochanel111 @shiinata-library @oneiratxxia10

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awkward-tension-art · 25 days

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Darkness on Umbara Chp.1 (Rex x Reader)

Hey everyone! guess whose in too deep!? me! I've clung to these fictional copy-paste men so much, you can call me a fucking LEECH!

Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Chapter 4. Chapter 5. Chapter 6. Chapter 7. Chapter 8. Chapter 9. Chapter 10. Chapter 11. Chapter 12.

Landing on Umbara

cw: Rex x Reader, Reader is a medic, incorrect military procedure, graphic descriptions of injuries, blood, swearing, death and battle, Spoilers for the Umbara Arc, reader insert, reader is gender neutral, no use of (Y/N), if i miss a tag LMK

This is very briefly proofread so I die like a man

Minors DNI, even if theres no smut

Umbara was dark. From what you gathered, it was extremely fucking dark.

You prepared your supplies with Kix. As medics, you both needed to double and triple check every pack, case and box.

Kix would be on the front. His expertise was more front line first-aid rather than your position behind the forces. He would keep the men alive long enough to get to your hands where you’d focus on the more intense medical care. While you would be armed to defend yourself, it was better if you stayed out of the line of direct fire.

Your safety and position were tied to the status you were given. As a natural born human in the GAR, your life was inherently seen as more important than the clones. This thought process was something you were vehemently against. You and your fellow soldiers were on equal ground. You’ve always tried to treat them with respect, kindness and patience.

On several occasions nat-borns would disrespect or belittle clones in your presence, which usually resulted in a verbal lashing from you. Much to the joy of your General Anakin and his padawan Ahsoka.

And the affection of a certain Captain Rex.

You peered up from looking over the medical supplies you were supposed to carry. Currently your secret lover was across the hangar meeting with the Jedi generals, ARC troopers and commander of the 212th.

Despite being in his helmet, you knew you caught his eye. Rex didn’t give anything away except a small movement of his hand. Something Fives didn’t miss, who gave you a small wave.

He knew of your relationship with Rex. So did Anakin. But other than those two, it was secret. All for his protection, as clones were forbidden from romantic partners.

There was a surge of energy in the hangar and you looked around. Your eyes met Kix’s before you nodded to him, “Showtime.” The first wave was loading up ready to get to Umbara’s surface.

“I’ll keep Rex safe until you touch down.” Your medic friend winked at you before he stood, got his helmet on and got to his transport.

Scratch that, Kix knew about you and the captain too.

Several of the gunships lifted, flying from the hangar down to the planet below. The first wave of troops, including ARF troopers, were being sent down to clear the field. From there, a second wave of back-up, your wave, would join them. Your command was temporary. All you had to do was get them to the ground before they took orders from Rex and Anakin.

You adjusted your gauntlet with the communicator on it. T-minus 5 minutes. Your fingers danced over your supplies, double-checking everything you had.

Bandages, tourniquets, laser cauterizers, laser scalpel, bacta, patches, emergency suture kits…

“Ready, doc?” A trooper, Ringo, took you out of your thoughts.

With a nod, you lifted your pack and stepped up onto the gunship, “Ready. Let’s load up.”

Others followed your orders and soon, you were in the sky above Umbara.

Despite the first wave’s efforts, chaos still reigned. Almost immediately your gunship was assaulted by artillery fire. A shot exploded next to you, shaking the entire air vehicle. A ship to the west of yours burst into an explosion of flames.

In response, your second hand shot up for stability. A trooper had their hand on your shoulder to help keep you steady. After a moment, the transport stabilized and you let go, stepping to the back where a crate of supplies waited.

“Dare, how close are we?” You chimed on your communicator. Hopefully you didn’t startle the pilot.

“Landing in 30, I can’t get to the landing site, so you’ll have to walk some to the staging area,” he responded.

“Play it safe,” You commanded, “Land where you can. And try not to crash, I like living and I'm sure the other men do too.” A couple of clones snickers in their helmets. Your little quip helped ease the atmosphere it seemed.

You prepared a speeder. The small vehicle had been modified to carry a patient and allow you to transport extra medical supplies. It was outfitted with some extra armor and protection as well, so in an emergency you could activate a rayshield at the cost of the vehicle's speed.

“Doc, landing in 10.”

“Good job.” You spoke into your communicator before getting on the speeder. You counted down in your head, and just as you got to 1, the doors opened.

The troopers unloaded, guns ready. Shots were fired, though it didn’t seem as concentrated. Explosions were going off, but at a relatively safe distance. Seemed the first wave did a better job than you originally thought. Your speeder got to the ground, and you made your way to the staging area with the rest of the men.

The battalion had established some trenches, allowing a brief moment of rest and preparation for everyone. You stopped right at the small medical area Kix had skillfully established. Already there were injured in the double digits. Without pause, you got to work.

“You nearly missed the party,” Kix snarked, handling a blaster burn on the thigh of a shiny.

“I’d call this fashionably late,” you quipped back, getting your hands on a different soldier. Blood was seeping from the bottom of his damaged helmet, staining his blue and white chestplate in red. Your mind kicked into training, “What's your name?” You asked, voicing a kinder tone.

The poor clone was clearly in agony, responding with a tremor to his words, “S-Stag.” He swallowed, trying to control his mental state.

These damn soldiers liked to pretend everything was fine.

“Alright Stag, I’m gonna remove your helmet.”

He didn’t argue when you pulled it off revealing the extent of the damage.

Severe blaster burn. Missing eye. Jaw visible. Shrapnel from the helmet had pierced his cheek and temple. Concussion possibly.

His remaining brown eye looked wildly at you. You recognized fear. terror.

So, you gave him a reassuring soft smile, “Not too bad, I’ve dealt with worse.” Your fingers quickly wrapped around an injector filled with painkillers, “Here, I’m gonna give you something to help with the pain.” Your words seemed to have a positive effect because he nodded and let you treat him.

You worked quickly and efficiently, stemming the bleeding and getting him stabilized. When you were finished, he had calmed down considerably. Once Stag was stable, you moved on to the next trooper.

By the fifth, you realized one of them couldn’t be saved.

He was a shiny. Barely off Kamino you guessed. The plastoid of his chest piece looked to be shattered and singed from a bolt to the chest. His breathing was shaky as he leaned against the dark trunk of a glowing tree.

“I need a trooper.” you called taking the soldier’s hand in your own. You learned quickly into the war that the clones always wanted to die with a brother near them. A reminder that they weren’t alone.

“I hope I’m good enough.”

That voice.

“Rex,” Your head turned, looking up at him. You wished you could smile, but you had to keep your excitement under a mask. Plus, the situation didn’t call for it.

His warm eyes were on yours as he pulled off his helmet and knelt. There was clear sadness, knowing that this was the end for one of his men. So the only thing he could do was offer comfort.

“Fyre.” The captain spoke softly, “You did well.” He put one armored hand on the dying man's shoulder.

Wordlessly, you gave Fyre a shot for the pain and held his hand, “Everything is alright now.” you whispered to him. This wasn’t uncommon, when you or Kix were too late to save someone.

At the beginning you would burn through supplies trying to save everyone, only to fail and lose them anyway. Over the course of the war, you knew to recognize when all you could do was ease their pain and let them slip away.

It was the grim reality of the war. You couldn’t save them all.

Fyre coughed and squeezed your hand. His eyes closed and the clone took his last breath.

“Damnit.” you swore, checking his pulse. You only felt stillness. He was gone.

Rex sighed, “You tried. So, thank you,” He stood and helped you stand. He couldn’t let his grief from the loss overwhelm him, “I wish you stayed on the ship.” The clone captain admitted, “I get the feeling Umbara is going to be brutal. More so than previous battles.”

“You can’t get rid of me so easily,” Your eyes quickly scanned around. No one seemed to be close enough or paying attention to the two of you, “My darling.” you added, interlocking your fingers.

Your lover looked around quickly before he responded quietly, “Mesh’la, be careful what you say.” Despite his warning, he made no move to pull away. In fact, he stepped closer, “For now, at least.”

Of course, you knew the two of you had to reign in your love and affection in front of others. On the battlefield he was the captain and you the field doctor. Trying to push those boundaries would stress him out. Afterall, if his romance with you got to Kamino, they’d call for a decommission. Something Anakin would never go for, but better safe than sorry.

However, he warmed to small touches and brief moments whenever the situation allowed.

Your lips had a small smile, “I’m glad you're not hurt.” you raised one palm to stroke the side of his helmet. The battle wasn’t even an hour in and already his armor was dirty.

“Promise me you’ll be careful.” Rex murmured, keeping his voice down, “Please, ner kar’ta.” He was being protective again. Normally the captain was better at prioritizing. He was the leader of the battalion first and your lover second. But right now he seemed…spooked. Were things getting bad already?

Umbara must be getting to him. After all this assault was much different than other battles.

“I’ll promise if you promise,” Your lips quickly pecked his visor. It was chaste and fast, so no one could see. Just a sweet kiss between the two of you.

He was about to respond when his communicator went off.

“General Skywalker,” Your lover pulled back and raised his wrist up.

“Come find me, I need the status of our men.” Anakin’s voice sounded on the other end, “and tell our good doctor I said hello.”

You snorted.

“Right away, General.” the clone captain said, returning to his professionalism. He looked at you one more time before stepping away to find the jedi.

You sighed, “Back to work.” Without waiting a second, you found another injured soldier and began to treat him.

Your eyes glanced at the shadowy sky for a moment, unable to shake the pit in your stomach. It felt like something was deeply wrong.

The darkness on Umbara must already be getting to you too.

#reader insert #captain rex x reader #rex x reader #star wars x reader #the clone wars x reader #captain rex #clone trooper kix #umbara arc #clone wars 501st #tcw x you #tcw x reader #star wars the clone wars #Star Wars

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deathmetalunicorn1 · 18 days

Note

One Piece Marinefold arc Whitebeard Pirates x Tengen Uzui!Reader and they are a divison Commander. And Hella strong. You can do male or female Tengen, just thought this would be fun.

-The moment the ship hit land, you leapt off, holding your chained weapon together, a bright grin on your face as the marines shouted to attack and you beamed, “It’s time to get flashy!!”

-You charged in, leading the Whitebeard Pirates into battle, focused on your target, Ace, who was up on the scaffolding, his execution imminent.

-You were one of the fastest members of Whitebeard’s crew, and pairing it with your raw strength and skills, it was no wonder that you were a commander, and one of the most feared, mainly because by the time someone saw you, you had already cut them down.

-Despite knowing the only mission was to rescue Ace, you were intent on taking out as many marines as possible for what they did to Ace, and if you ever saw Blackbeard, you weren’t going to hesitate.

-Whitebeard knew that you were going to do what you wanted, and he didn’t care, as he trusted you, he trusted your judgement and he knew that you would help the rescue mission succeed, no matter what, as that was the type of person you were, willing to do whatever it took.

-Vista shouted after you, “Leave some for the rest of us!” you just laughed, looking over your shoulder, “Then catch up!” You were such a little shit sometimes as many of the marines around were trying to attack, angered by your disrespect.

-However, if they wanted you to be more respectful, then perhaps they should do something worth respecting and be able to last more than a second or two in combat with you.

-When Ace’s little brother, that little flashy upstart, Luffy, arrived on scene, you couldn’t help but grin broadly, seeing what he had done, breaking out of Impel Down, rallying the other inmates, just to save Ace.

-You knew that you had to help Luffy, and you were quick to dash towards him, picking him up under one of your arms, “Stay with me little brother!! I’ll get you to Ace!”

-Luffy was initially surprised by you suddenly grabbing him, but you were easily leaping up, avoiding the crowds, charging towards the scaffolding.

-Ace couldn’t help but grin, seeing both you and Luffy there as you dropped Luffy, turning to face the charging marines, “You get Ace free! I got this!!”

-Luffy didn’t know you, but he immediately got to work, getting Ace free, while you slashed at the approaching marines.

-You grinned, seeing one of the admirals charging towards you and you swung your blade, getting into position as you felt heat from behind, signaling Ace was free, “Get to the ship!!”

-You locked up with Kizaru, who was impressed with your skills, able to dodge his Devil Fruit abilities and showing your combat prowess, and you didn’t even have an ability of your own! This was the result of hard work and natural talent.

-When Whitebeard called the retreat, you were one of the few left on the battlefield, still fighting with Kizaru, who had to admit he was smiling as well, he rarely got to go all out like this, and the feeling was mutual.

-Kizaru managed to swipe at you with his icicle blade, slicing up your face, over your eye, blinding you in one eye, but you returned it, kicking him hard in the stomach before sending him flying, leaving him with wounds that his ability couldn’t heal.

-Once back on the ship, many were in awe of you being able to handle an admiral, but Whitebeard just laughed, finding it amusing, calling you ballsy, but you just grinned, “I prefer the term flashy!”

-Laughter filled the ship as Ace was being hugged all around, while Marco was trying to heal your eye, but unfortunately, the eye was useless and you got a flashy eyepatch to wear over it, hiding the scar, as you didn’t want to scare the beautiful ladies one you all got to safety~~

-Luffy and Ace both hugged you, thanking you for your assistance and you couldn’t help but laugh warmly, finding their thanks amusing, as you felt like it wasn’t worth thanking, as you knew that you were going to get Ace back.

#one piece #luffy #portgas d ace #tengen reader #whitebeard pirates

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yaut-jaknowit · 3 months

Text

Revelations

Pairing: We'ar-ow (Female Yautja) x GN!Yautja (Platonic (for now))

Word Count: 2421

Summary: Either you are crazy or something is mentally wrong, but you feel something… something for We'ar-ow. You need an ear to rant to and spill your guts to before. Someone who can offer a reasonable solution to this issue. Xilomere comes to mind. The old man is more than happy to hear about the situation and push Reader towards We'ar-ow.

Author Note: I'm getting excited about this story. I know it'll have to end but it's getting good up in here! Thank you all for the wonderful and kind comments you leave on each chapter.

Edit: sorry about the grammar mistakes! Should all be fixed!

Masterlist

Ao3

It’s quiet in We’ar-ow’s quarters. The Yautja had long left you to fulfill her duties as a monarch. She had offered you the chance to come along and sit with her on the steps of her throne, under her watch and safety. Yet, after the encounter with Dwainet and his posse, you didn’t feel it necessary to endanger your life for a different scenery. It was safer in here, away from everyone, behind at least two locked doors.

This alone time also offered you the time to reformulate your plans of escape. It was no longer an easier life in the hands of We’ar-ow. Dwainet wanted you dead, as much it hurt to say that. It was the truth. He wanted you dead by his hands. The only way you would be completely safe from him was by jettisoning yourself from the ship.

Though, the dangers of the universe still hang over you like a boulder about to drop, everything you experience on this ship wasn’t worth it. Not with death around every corner you turn.

You wanted off this ride before it ended your life short. To be honest, you should’ve left the moment Dwainet renounced his profound love for you. Then, you wouldn’t have be dragged into this battle between the Monarch and your ex-mate. One wants you dead and the other wants you… for what?

That’s something you’ve yet to figure out. Why does she care about you so much?

What Dwainet said about you to her had made sense. If your position and aliveness was threatening her throne, why not get rid of you? You’re the problem. Solving it would ease the tension within her clan.

But no. Here you were, still well alive and living in her quarters. None of made sense.

Hunger gnawed inside of your mind. With a grunt, you stood up from your curled up position on the couch and meandered over to the kitchenette. The small space offered enough for her to store snacks and prepare dinner for the two of you. You plucked some sort of fruit that resembled a spiky banana and peeled it open.

Your back leaned against the counters as you munch away on the interesting fruit. It had a strange citrus yet sweet taste to it. Enough to bring you to finish it off and throw away the peel.

Out of everything, We’ar-ow’s actions have softened you. You had to unwillingly admit that thought. A broken heart makes people act differently afterwards. That had to be why you felt a strange pull towards her. She was the only person on this ship after Dwainet who was being kind to you. That had to be it!

Something in your chest didn’t agree with the thought. You ran your digits through your locks.

It’s not like she wasn’t not attractive in her own alien way. Her structure both bodily and facially weren’t bad per se. She is an alien after all with a totally different facial structure.

In a shorten term, she’s pretty.

Your breath caught in your throat. A curse falling from your dry lips. You liked her. This… these feelings. One of your hands clutched your hair at the roots and slightly pulled on them. How was… but after Dwainet, you swore off any love from this cruel species. A whine sounded in the air. Your brows forged together. You couldn’t believe this.

Worst of all, with this ball already rolling downhill, it’s gained so much momentum you didn’t believe it could be stopped. You truly had to leave. You had to escape before your second chance ended you in a position worse than before.

Dead.

All of this was bottling up inside of you, a volcano ready to burst in every direction. It was a weight it became too great to carry without releasing it. You mindlessly gnawed on the inside of your lip and glanced over at the discarded tablet. Only a very few contacts had been added to the device. All people We’ar-ow trusted closely. One of them came to mind, someone who seemed extremely close to We’ar-ow in a friendly companion. Even to you, he was as friendly as the dominant race could be to outsiders. That was saying something too.

Besides We’ar-ow, he was probably the only other one on this ship you could talk to. You remember in passing, he offered himself to the two of you for any services. An ear to rant to was what you needed for right now. Anything to make it look less like you were a crazed human on a ship full to the brim with aliens.

You sauntered over to the couch and scooped the device from the cushion. This might be a bad idea to invite the Yautja into your safe quarters, but you believed he wouldn’t hurt you. Not if he was close to We’ar-ow.

A few taps brought you to the messaging screen. It took less than a minute to figure out what to type and send it to him. You spun on your heel and plop down on the couch. From there, you were going back to learning the specs of how to pilot a Yautja spacecraft.

It was less than a paragraph read for a response to pop up at the top. Shocked, you clicked on it and felt your lip’s part. He agreed. He was heading over now. You scrambled to your feet and sputtered to yourself, eyes glued to the screen. Stupidly, your gaze snapped over the room as if you had prepare for a guest.

It took a few moments to collect yourself before settling back down on the comfortable cushions. Everything’s fine. You took some deep breaths to cool down your racing heart before drawing your attention to the tablet again. You used it to pass the time until he came knocking at the door.

As you were about to slip off of the couch and open the door, it slid back to reveal the familiar form of Xilomere. His dark moss green scales were an anticipated sight that you welcomed with a short nod and respectfully closed mouth smile.

He strutted into the living space and rounded the other loveseat style chair. His weary old bones cracked while he relaxed into the cushions. One of his legs was thrown over the other. He rests his arms on top of the couch and reclined as much as possible in the stagnant chair. His baby blue eyes were glued to your form swallowed up in the cushions.

“So, what do I owe to have the wonderful pleasure of having a conversation with you?” he teased with an shit-eating grin that consumed his whole face.

You took a lungful of air and quickly pushed it out. “Well, I needed to talk with someone,” you answered and scratched at the back of your bicep.

Xilomere snorted, shoulders jumping with the motion. “I’d gathered as much from your message. But I’m surprised you had called upon little ol’ me and not your Yautja.” His greying tresses shifted while he titled his head to the side.

Your lips were pressed tightly together. “It’s.. about her,” you admitted and dropped your tense shoulders.

The Yautja made an intrigued noise and motioned with his intact arm at you to continue. “Please do tell. Trouble in paradise?” Your face burned with shame.

A shake of your head was quick to deny anything. “No, no. Nothing… nothing like, besides what’s going on. But, I-“ you cut yourself short and peeked to the side, unable to look the Yautja in the eye for too long. He was patient and waited for the story to be told. “Okay, well. I don’t know how to say this without sounding like a complete fool…”

He chuckled and leaned forward, resting his only elbow on a knee. “Just get it out, ooman. I’m not here to judge.” His words had the desired effect on your trembling form.

“Okay, okay. Um, I-I think, no. It’s-fuck!” you spat in frustration then scrambled off of the cushion. “I have a fucking crush on We’ar-ow.” Words screamed for the only other occupant to clearly hear in the room. Your shoulders rapidly moved up and down with each heaving breath. You made a whining noise and collapsed on the couch again.

“It’s shouldn’t be possible. I swore off love because of Dwainet. Your race is cruel and harsh. I learned I didn’t want to be apart of it after he dropped me out of nowhere. And now I have a crush on the leader of this clan. I feel like I’m back in middle school,” you ranted. After the last words left your mouth, you buried your face into your hands with a groan. “I don’t know what to do.”

A silence engulfs the duo. It felt hopeless in this situation. You couldn’t escape this feeling, not until you left this ship. You slept in the same bed as her, not cuddling but enjoying her heat and scent. Fuck, you liked her smell. You liked her touch. You liked her voice. You were smitten. If Xilomere wasn’t here to watch as you broke down internally, you would start bawling out your eyes out or started to destroy something in here.

The couch across from you squeaked at the shifting of weight. You felt a presence in front of you and peeked through your fingers to find Xilomere kneeling in front of you.

“I’ve known We’ar-ow for a long, long time. Since she became a hunter. The only one to survive the hunt.” He reached forwards and used the tip of his claw to tilt your head out of your hands. “I know a lot about her as a hunter but also as a person.”

Confusion morphs its way on your face. Why was he telling you this? This wasn’t comforting at all. “You, my dear ooman, are stupid.” You jerked your head back and sputtered out words. He pressed a finger to your lips to silence you. “Listen. Your species is stupid as a whole, so there’s nothing new there. But, I know you have a brain. Use it.”

It still didn’t click together. He sighed and stood back up to his full height. Shorter than We’ar-ow he still towered over you. He lumbered over to the couch once more and plopped down on it. “Go after her. Don’t let fear control you. It’ll kill you.”

The puzzled expression returned. “’Go after her’?” you repeated then shook your head. “Why in the world would I put myself up for failure? She’ll kill me if I told her I had this stupid little crush on her.”

Xilomere raised a brow at you. “Would she kill you?” he rephrased with one of his mandibles quirking up alongside his brow. You opened your mouth to speak before slamming it shut.

Things were beginning to click together in a terribly slow process. As if the pieces were sunken in tar. Then, you shook your head to dismiss his words. “Of course she would. I’m just her pet.” The words hurt your heart to say but it was the truth. All she saw you as was a pet. She only tolerates your presence for the time before the novelty wears off.

The Yautja snorted again and rolled his head. “You’re making me lose hope here, ooman,” he groaned and shook his massive head. The trinkets attached to his tresses clinked against one another with the motion.

“I don’t know what you want from me. I’m nothing more than just her pet. I’m surprised she hasn’t gotten rid of me for all the trouble my existence alone is causing her.” Xilomere stared long and hard at you, giving you a look that read ‘do you get it yet?’ But you didn’t know what he was trying to refer to without saying it outright.

His shoulders sagged. “I’ve lost all faith in your species because you,” he judged but the glint in his blue eyes told you a different story.

He turned his head to the side so his ear was facing more towards the door. “Well, that’s my cue to leave. It’s been… I won’t say fun since you’re still so blind to the picture. But, nice talk.” He rose from the seat and strolled over to the door.

It opened not only to his presence but reveal the familiar pink form standing in the doorway. Xilomere placed a palm on her shoulder and gave it a shake. “Your ooman is dumb,” he merely stated then moved pass her down the hall. She stood there stunned, peered over her shoulder down at him, then over to you. She shrugged her shoulders then walked into her quarters.

The door slid and locked shut behind her, resealing the room for your safety. She strolled over to you on the couch and plucked you off the cushions. Not a word was uttered to you. We’ar-ow threw you over her shoulder and carried you into her room. A yelp escaped your lips as you scrambled for purchase. The Yautja stopped at the side of her bed and tossed you onto it.

A pout found its way to your face. “Hey! What was that for?!” you asked with a stern voice and glared shortly at her.

Either she wasn’t listening or just didn’t care, she crawled onto the bed with you. It wasn’t terribly late in the day to sleep, let alone for her. We’ar-ow snared an arm around your midsection and tugged you to her torso. You struggled, unsure of what was happening, but a short purr had you going lax.

Then, the Yautja laid down on the comfortable mattress and curled around your form. She was spooning but due to enormous size difference to you, she engulfed you into her body.

Even if you wanted to escape, you knew she wouldn’t release you. Her hold wasn’t tight but firm to let you know there wasn’t an opportunity for an escape. Deep down, you didn’t truly mind. She needed the comfort so you relented and went lax in her arms. We’ar-ow placed her head on top of yours and went still. You knew she wasn��t asleep due to her breathing, but the moment was peaceful.

#yautja #predator #yautja x reader #yautja x you #alien vs predator #predator x reader #yautja x human #predator x you #predator x human #x reader

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aleksanderscult · 3 months

Text

Today I will rant about Malina

Because this ship tried to be passed on as an ideal relationship to have.

*spoiler: it wasn't*

Malina is a ship that was shoved down our throats throughout the trilogy. Whether you shipped it or not you were bound to read about it in literally every other page.

And what are the negative aspects of this ship?

Literally EVERYTHING.

Let's start with Mal. The number 1 asshole in this trilogy.

And yes he is the number 1 and not Aleksander since Aleksander was a character with a goal. He had a grand plan that exceeded selfishness and pure evil and he used any means necessary to fulfill it. But Mal? Remind me, what was his plan?

Well, at the start of the trilogy to fuck around girls and then, when Alina began to feel something for someone else, to undermine her, latch on her and chastise her. There you have his role.

The minute Alina started having a life of her own outside his influence, the little jerk felt overlooked and his pride got hurt.

It's evident that Alina felt quite unseen from Mal in the beginning. He flirted and fucked girls right in front of her face (since she very clearly knew) and he even stopped hanging around with her as much as he did in the past.

Quite a start.

And then when Alina found her strength, happiness and place in the Little Palace he got offended. Why isn't she tortured as the rumors had said? What are these clothes that she's wearing? Why is she happy? And, most importantly, WHY IS SHE HAPPY WITH ANOTHER MAN??

Alina at that moment felt like she was walking on eggshells around him. She didn't know what to say without provoking him further. And when she found her voice, the little prick got all puffed up and left without even apologizing for ruining her nice evening.

Then we have Mal not talking to her as if it wasn't his own decision to abandon the army and follow her and again made her feel bad for even mentioning the Darkling.

It appears that Mal had no problem when his best friend bullied Alina but went actual feral when a (powerful) guy showed interest in her. Insecure, aren't we Mal?

In the following books we have Mal being okay that Alina doesn't use her powers and therefore being weak.

We have Mal being more concerned if Alina fucked the Darkling than being tortured by him. Apparently he wanted her virginity for him, I don't know.

We have Mal acting like crazy because Alina decided to return to Ravka to lead the remaining Grisha. But what about him?? What about his needs?? And what if he decides not to follow her? What will she do then?

(people call the Darkling manipulative but let me show you another person that you overlook as manipulative, my friends)

He gets angry when she hesitates to kiss him and again makes her feel bad about it. And how does he respond with that?

Revenge!!✨✨

Kisses Zoya, a woman he fucked before, and then threw the blame to Alina ("at least she doesn't flinch when I kiss her" "why do you care? You don't care about me anyway") Gaslighting at its finest form, my friends! 👌 Knew that she would be hurt, knew that she had feelings for him and still did it.

Oh and let's forget how he wanted the good, old Alina back! The sickly one that always depended on him for company and strength. He basically asked her to tear out a piece of her soul! 🥰🥰

And then, of course, jeopardized both her image and her safety by getting drunk and getting into fights (*whispering* we, the readers, are supposed to find this very romantic, okay? A man that drinks, sulks and makes the heroine feel bad. Just so you know).

Then the author made a 360° and presented Mal in R&R as changed and a very good person. Willing to die heroically for his love. How did she do that?

💕💕With zero development!!💕💕

One minute he's up there in the chapel being a jerk and the next minute he's underground and changed. I think it must have been the change of air, what do you think?

I have a huge problem with Leigh Bardugo about this. She presents Darklina as toxic. And it is. She presents Nikolina as little to zero toxic. And it is. But when she presents Malina, it's a really good, cute ship!! Not toxic at all with lots of possibilities! Leigh has constantly defended it saying "Oh but Mal was a teenager".

Ma'am? I was a teenager once and I never made my best friends feel like shit.

And as have everyone said before, Mal hits veeery close at home. He's every jerk that you have met in your life and you will meet again.

With Darklina you have nothing to fear. Because no one will put the collar of a magical stag around your throat, no one will have a nichevo'ya bite your shoulder, no one will ask you to abandon your friends so you can save some Grisha from the persecution. But plenty of men will slut-shame you for what you're wearing, plenty will feel insecure for being stronger and more famous than them, plenty will make you feel like shit for finding happiness and plenty will sabotage you by taking revenge kissing someone else.

Malina is a ship that is REAL.

While Darklina is your typical, fantastical ship.

Her hard efforts to pass it on to the readers as something healthy and inspiring is disgusting and makes me hate it even more.

Now from Alina's perspective things are even more tragic, since Alina never grows as a character because of him.

She always thinks "What about Mal? Will Mal follow me? What if he doesn't? It's my fault. It's all my fault. Where is Mal?".

This is it. This is the trilogy in a summary.

A heroine that seems more concerned about Mal than the country and people that expect from her to save them.

"Alina doesn't want a crown. That's why she left"

Girl, I don't want to go to work every day either.

Kids don't want to wake up to go to school.

People don't want to pay taxes every year.

But we do them because we MUST.

Just like Alina should stay, lead and rule because that's what she should do as the protagonist. Not pass on her own duties to others and say "gotta go lolz". Malina could be used as a plotline for Alina to gain strength from by casting aside Mal's influence and finding her own power inside herself. Instead Leigh did the opposite: stripped her powers (her own self) to fit in Mal's world.

And this excuse that the author had given ("some women don't want to wear crowns") is pathetic and idiotic.

Frodo didn't want to carry the Ring but chose to do the right thing. Harry didn't want to fight a war with a psychopath but did because it was the right thing. The Pevensie siblings didn't want to fight the White Witch and rule a country but did both because it was the right thing. Every hero in a proper story does the right thing. He or she becomes selfless and sacrifices his own happiness and well being to stand up against the evil and corruption.

In the trilogy instead we have Alina who had a responsibility and duty but unfortunately for Ravka and the Grisha she was not a responsible person but a girl that wanted to depend on a man. She didn't want to use her influence to protect her people but hide.

Apparently the "evil villain" understood the assignment better than the author ever did.

Alina never grew as a person or as a character. It was only Mal and Mal. If only he had stayed dead in R&R then the world would shine brighter. But no! The author brought him back and gave us an explanation with how that happened that I still don't understand because it doesn't make a goddamn sense.

I guess the easy explanation is: "I brought Mal back because Alina had to end up with him somehow. Deal with it."

And we just have to accept this (just as Alina did) whether we like it or not.

Well I don't.

Because I've met people like Mal and they're assholes. They want to be the strongest one in the relationship, they want their girl to look up to them and depend on them and when they make mistakes it's none of their fault.

Because I've met people like Alina that try hard to please their man while in the meantime they "crumble down" emotionally and feel insecure. They never shine with their own light but seek only the one that their toxic partner can give to them. Without it they're lost.

Because I've met couples like Malina. And it's never a happy relationship or has a happy ending.

And when you try to pass on this relationship in fiction as something healthy, then you really need to reconsider.

#this was bullshit. the way Leigh defended it and how she presented it. it makes me sick #darklina #the darkling #pro darklina #anti mal oretsev #anti malina #alina starkov #pro alarkling #leigh bardugo #shadow and bone #grishaverse #grishaverse trilogy

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mandos-mind-trick · 10 months

Text

The Knife

Summary: You don't mind the soft stuff, you really don't, but sometimes you like to live a little dangerously.

Pairing: Hunter x reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, teasing, so much teasing, knife play, knife kink, grinding, very slight hint at dom/sub, brief fingering, definitely not any sort of discussion of safety I don't recommend doing this.

A/N: Uh yeah. You're welcome.

MASTERLIST

It’s not often you get time to yourselves. An empty ship, a couple hours to yourselves. It’s more than you need.

You hover over him, lips pressed to his in a heated kiss. His hands are on your thighs, squeezing the soft flesh. Your pants are on the floor, a trail of his armor leading to your makeshift bunk. He’s still in his blacks, denying you the touch of his bare skin.

Your teeth sink into his bottom lip, a groan vibrating through his chest. You smirk, licking the bite marks you’ve left behind. You were always a little rougher than him, not that you didn’t enjoy the soft sex, but sometimes you liked a little pain. A little danger.

A thought runs through your head as you kiss him, your lips trailing down his throat as you slowly shift your body. You make it seem inconspicuous as you reach for his vambrace, always close at hand even though the ship was locked and secured. You take it as a compliment that you can distract him so much his enhancements are useless.

Your fingers close around the hilt of his knife and you move quickly, drawing it from its holster as you sit up. You press it against his neck, keeping him flat on the bunk. His eyes are wide as he stares up at you, the bob of his throat as he swallows shifting the knife in your hand just slightly.

“What do you think you’re doing?” He asks, laying still underneath you. He could disarm you easily, take you down and have the knife out of your hand before you even knew what happened.

You smirk, leaning down closer to him. “I want to try something.” You lean down, kissing his nose before you push yourself up, shifting so you’re straddling his hips. “Do you trust me?”

He stares at you with dark eyes, reading you in the way only he knows how. He stays still for a few moments before he nods just slightly.

“Then don’t move.” You warn, giving him a stern look.

You shift the knife in your hand, catching the neck of his blacks with the tip. The fabric splits easily under the sharp edge of the vibroblade. You slowly drag it down his chest, cutting the top of his blacks down the middle. You push the fabric aside, revealing his chest.

You’re careful as you press the knife against his skin, not hard enough to cut, but just enough that he can feel it. You trace the knife along his chest, outlining the defined muscle of his peck before moving closer, circling his nipple. His breath hitches just slightly under him and you still, looking up at his face. His eyes are wide, pupils blown as he watches you.

You start to grind your hips against the bulge in his blacks, steadying yourself with a hand on his stomach. The muscles flex under your hand, wound tight as he holds himself still. He moans quietly, the sound vibrating deep in his chest.

You smirk, dropping your gaze to his skin as you continue teasing him. You drag the knife to the other side, tracing the skeletal ribs tattooed across his chest. His head drops back as he lets out a shaky breath, the knife trailing down further to his stomach. You trace his abs, circling around his belly button as you continue to grind on top of him. He’s close, you can tell by the deepness of his groans. His eyes are fixed on your face, lips parted as he gets closer and closer.

You drag the knife just a little lower, managing to catch his skin with the tip. He grunts, hips jerking as he cums. Warmth spreads underneath you as he cums in his pants, your movements continuing as you help him ride out his high. He’s panting, knuckles white where they’re closed into fists at his side. You press the knife against his skin once he’s stilled, continuing your path lower to his pants.

You just manage to catch the waistband with the knife before his hand is shooting out, fingers wrapping around your wrist. Your gaze shoots up to his, an absolutely predatory gleam in his eyes. He looks like he may devour you whole, a shiver running down your spine in response.

He tugs you forward by the wrist, his free arm wrapping around you as you fall against his chest. The movements are so seamless, so effortless as he flips you, pinning you under him on the bunk. Your wrist is pinned next to your head, knife still in hand. There’s a damp spot on the front of his blacks from your pussy, your thighs slick and glimmering in the low light of the ship.

He pries the knife from your fingers, spreading your thighs with his own. “My turn.”

Your breath hitches in your throat as the sharp edge of the blade touches the skin below your jaw. You freeze, party out of shock and partly out of instinct. He had never shown any interest in anything like this before, and now here you are, a knife pressed against your throat.

He drags the tip of the knife along your jaw, before following the path down the front of your neck. You stay perfectly still, chest heaving just slightly as you hear the familiar rip of fabric. The knife makes quick work of your thin shirt, the blade slipping under one strap, and then the other, popping both easily. He tears the fabric from your body, dropping it on the floor next to the bed. He’s ditched his own ripped shirt at some point in the flurry of movement, his beautiful tanned skin on display.

The knife returns to your chest, pressing right into the spot between your breasts. You hold your breath, staring up at him as he drags the tip along your skin. It burns just a bit, leaving a line of raised skin behind. Not deep enough to bleed, but you’ll have those marks for a couple hours.

Your panties are completely destroyed, soaked through and dripping. He drags the knife lower, tracing a line down your stomach. He circles your belly button just as you had done to him, your toes curling. He continues his path lower, slipping the knife under one side of your underwear. The dull side of the blade presses into your skin as he flicks his wrist, shredding through one side of your panties. He repeats the movement on the other side, peeling your underwear from your soaked pussy before he tosses it on the floor with your shirt.

He continues his path with the knife, trailing it down your pelvis until he pauses right above your slit. Kriff, you could cum just like this.

“Hunter.” You whine, fingers gripping the sheets.

“What, can’t take what you dish out?” He asks, pressing your knees up until you’re almost folded in half.

Your eyes screw closed as he drags the edge of the knife down the back of your thigh, every ounce of your being working towards keeping yourself still as he teases the sensitive skin. He switches hands, dragging the knife down your other thigh as he drags his fingers through your soaked folds.

“Such a naughty little thing.” He says, pressing two fingers into you easily. “So ready for me already.”

“Hunter, please!” You beg, clenching around his fingers. “I need you.”

He stills for a moment, almost like he’s thinking about it. He pulls away long enough to strip off his pants before he’s back on you, knife pressed into your throat as he slots his body between your thighs. “I’ll be nice to you this time.” He growls, nipping at your jaw. “But you owe me.”

Taglist:

@kaminocasey @rosechi @mxkyrie @bobaprint @star-trekker-0013 @padawancat97 @bamfahsoka @rain-on-kamino @annoyinglylegendarygoose @lune-de-miel-au-paradis, @wolffegirlsunite @dukeoftheblackstar

#star wars #star wars fic #the bad batch #the bad batch fic #tbb hunter x reader #bad batch hunter x reader #clone thirsting #the dark side fic

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xx-thedarklord-xx · 4 months

Note

i saw your tony/loki shipping post and it's got me considering it. do you have any recs?

I sure fucking do! (referring to this post)

Sorry this took me so long to get to, I had to go back through some of my bookmarks and refamiliarize myself with the ship. If anyone would like more recs just let me know!

Stark Fashion Statement by STARSdidathing | 10k, T Tony knows it takes a lot for Loki to play nice with Asgard. Mostly, it takes him wanting to secure an apple for Tony. Despite this, Tony is willing to hate everyone on sight, especially when he's forced to attend an event with Loki. But just because they're playing nice, it doesn't mean Tony is going to stand for an insult. Who says time on Asgard can't come with a little mischief?

(Do check out STARSdidathing Ao3 they have SIX HUNDRED completed FrostIron stories.)

Devoted to you by Draysmeria | 14k, E *part of a series* Tony Stark's beliefs were one of the best guarded secrets of all times. The thing was, if you asked Tony about it, he would say that in his opinion it had absolutely nothing to do with belief. Because he knew for a fact that his God and others like him existed. So, he did not have to believe in the elusive existence of a higher power but could worship and be devoted to a very real deity that had visited Earth regularly in centuries past. He had absolute Faith in his God and was devoted to him, addressing prayers and offerings to him regularly; his chosen God was Loki, god of Fire, Chaos, Lies and Mischief.

(I am fascinated and in love with the idea of Tony praying to Loki as a god. Loved loved loved the entire series.)

Exploiting Technicalities by pineapplesquad | T, 9k His blood ran cold the moment his seidr touched the other man. With unsteady hands he switched his earpiece to their private channel, fighting the panic rapidly crawling up his throat. “JARVIS,” he snapped, voice already shaking, “why are you piloting Anthony’s armor?” Loki didn’t care for the long pause before the AI finally answered. “Sir has activated a protocol that, when enabled, allows me to remotely pilot the Iron Man armor to continue the fight if he is to fall unconscious. My priority is now the safety of the team.”

(The emotional angst and pain of this fic hurt but it was a good kind of hurt.)

Never Let Go by STARSdidathing | T, 3k Anthony likes to hold Loki’s hand. And it’s not that Loki doesn’t enjoy it, quite the opposite actually– he just doesn’t understand it.

(It's just so soft and cute and after the angst of the last one, it's a soothing balm to the soul!)

The Einherjar’s No Good Very Stressful and Incredibly Difficult Job of Protecting Tony Stark by NamelesslyNightlock | T, 14k When the Einherjar notice that Tony Stark makes Prince Loki happier than anyone – or anything – else, they decide that protecting the mortal is a matter of complete importance, and put all of their resources toward the task. But… their job would be a whole lot easier if Stark would just stop putting his life in danger at every possible opportunity.

(Outside POV but it's just so good. I love seeing how others view their relationship and the idea of someone trying to guard Tony of all people makes me laugh because he does dangerous stuff all day every day.)

When You're Gone by NamelesslyNightlock | T, 5k DUM-E misses Loki almost as much as Tony does. This causes a problem when, after a longer than usual absence, DUM-E decides to go looking for him.

(It's just so cute! I adore when fics explore all of Tony's robots and the fact that DUM-E misses Loki is just adorable and I want more of it okay.)

A Little Unsteady by kipli | E, 68k *part of a series* After observing the battle at the airport between Captain America and Iron Man, Loki stumbles upon Tony Stark hidden away in the depths of a panic attack. Loki finds himself drawn to Stark in ways he’d not expected.

(Loved, loved, loved this one! I loved the sequel as well.)

So We're ... Friends by Loni4ever | E, 15k *part of a series* When Loki shows up on Earth two years after getting exiled from Asgard, what Tony expects is fights, casualties and attempts at world domination. What he gets instead is reasons to smile, answers about magic, and an unlikely friend in a certain prankster mage. ___ Or, 5 Times Tony and Loki Didn't Fight Each Other, and 1 Time They Decided To Fight Side By Side

(this was perfect. The way they showed the transition from acquaintances to friends to really good friends to best friends to omg I might actually love this idiot to dating to falling in love to HUSBANDS. I just really really loved this whole series and melted so many times)

#frostiron #ironfrost #tony stark #loki laufeyson #tony x loki #loki x tony #fic recs #Sam's Fic Rec #fic rec #asked and answered #Loki #Ironman #marvel #marvel mcu #frostiron fic recs

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silverechosandblankmasks · 6 months

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Post-Purgatory headcanon

// CW for talks of potential Egg/Child death and the fact several people tried/try to kill themselves after said eggs supposedly die (if you see this again, I accidentally deleted the orginal post adhsjhdaj so I had to repost it sorry lol)

In my head, the people fleeing Purgatory had a little more time, or a little less distance to cover or hell maybe managed to find the boat quicker, and everyone who wanted to stay behind was either dragged or knocked out because nobody left behind even now, even in the face of tragedy.

I should also say it's my hc some people were left behind in Quesadilla island (mostly people who didn't participate in Purgatory at all) though lorewise I'm making it so some of the ones who just didn't make it to the last day were there on the last day, but several people were actually sent back to Quesadilla island early for whatever reason.

Phil on his barely held together wings and with Fit's stolen elytra and rockets, they carry most people, either with lasso trains or managing to pick up people as everyone bolted for the ship.

People are quickly and efficiently ferried or run to the boat, with Tubbo and Phil being last as Tubbo refused until his people were gone first, but Phil's wings get hit by a stray meteor just before they make it and Phil goes down hard, wings screaming in agony.

Thankfully they get on board and sail away pained and feeling grief, but alive, as the bomb goes off in the distance.

Almost everyone made it, and they’re only missing Maximus, but in their sorrow fueled state a lot of people are still mad at the man so not many can really find it in themselves to care at the moment.

It's rougher when those either unconscious or tied up for their own safety are waking up or finally freed from their ties. The ensuing argument is dark, loud, and painful on all sides, more than one person has to be retied back up and carefully watched in case they try to "Finish the Job" they were stopped from doing on Purgatory.

Thankfully, most of the argument is settled after Phil tries to tell them he doesn't think this is it, there might be a chance-that Cellbit tearfully spits out to not give him hope, he can't Phil, he yells-

Phil silences him with a sharp word, familiar in the way Cellbit unconsciously falls in line as a well-built habit from these last two weeks forces him to settle enough to listen to his team captain.

Phil looks at him, and the other parents, and evenly tells them that right before the rest of the room collapsed him and Etoiles did see Richarlyson before he suddenly disappeared before their eyes and that had to mean something. (Yes I'm making that canon, shh they need something to push them along, and I like the idea)

Cellbit only shakes, and Phil quietly looks at the other parents who tried to stay behind, who want to stop hurting, and asks what happens if they are alive? And come back to parents who didn't even try to stay alive for them?

There are flinches and more than one person starts crying, but Philza keeps going, and ignores his own tears dripping down his face as he fails to hold them back.

Phil's not asking them to hope, he can't, but he can ask that if they can't stay alive in honor of their children, who wouldn't want them to give up despite the pain, or can't find in themselves to live for those who did survive, that they stay and try until they at least know for sure, their kids deserve that at the very least, even though it hurts.

After a long, tear soaked silence, finally tensions are lessened and agreements are made, either out loud or silently in a very slight nod. Nobody is happy or 100% okay now, hell a lot of them still need to be watched, but they make due.

Wounds and injuries are tended to in the ships, admittedly small, infirmary. Phil has to be carried because he collapses in pain after the conversation the minute he tries to help out, and rides out waves of agony as they set his arm and left wing, and gets his injuries cleaned.

They try to get him to rest, but he refuses, before finally compromising and taking it easy, with only overseeing, planning, and sitting often under his team's and Tubbo's scarily watchful eyes. Honestly, he can't be too mad though, he has people to worry about him at least.

Food/water are heartily indulged in after two long, long weeks of borderline starving for most of it. Most of them are malnourished, dehydrated, and fucked up in more ways in one, so they focus on making sure they won't run out of food before they managed to get... somewhere, but don't limit themselves or anyone too much, it would be cruel after everything they endured.

That night, and every night after, instead of making use of the rooms they collapse together in one of the common areas, in a nest of hastily put together mattresses and even more blankets and pillows than they're pretty sure they had on Quesadilla island. People are curled together, masses of limbs and bodies thrown over everyone and holding, making contact with as many people as possible.

There is a divide, mostly by team, on the first night or two, even through pain and freedom it's too early to let go of the fact each team do not feel safe with the other team at their back. Though, Phil can't help but notice that Soulfire is spaced out evenly, even amongst their own.

Sure, several are curled together, but it's uniform and mostly only touching by held hands or sharing space but not touch. Bolas, on the other hand, are practically suffocating each other in their sleep with how tightly wound they are around each other, a normal sight, but it's somehow More now so many are in turmoil.

It makes a sort of sense when Phil finds out the blue team often had actual bed spaces and barracks set up for them, if not with beds then some other sort of material.

But Bolas was often too poor to risk using wool or supplies for beds and figured it was just easier and safer to stay close, so even the early days were spent piled on each other, reaching warmth and comfort in their team on roughly constructed blankets and hay bedding.

Soulfire was a team of their own, but not like Bolas. They were a brotherhood, where Bolas was a family. Not to say they didn't care for each other, it was clear they did, it was just a different dynamic was all.

But, the nights after, there's a noticeable spread as they get used to once again sharing space and lives with the other team, rekindle friendships from before Purgatory that were either put on hold or temporarily pushed aside. Soon they're one giant pile of comfort and safety.

They also unconsciously take watch from the first night, despite how safe they are it's too soon to break the habit, but it's made easier by how many people there are.

It was almost funny when the first watchmen of each team realized the other was awake, exchanging a nod but return to watching over their teams after the surprise leaves. Later nights, people on watch were still one from each team per shift, but they'd spend it talking quietly or playing silent games.

And over the coming days there are hard conversations, people sobbing in someone else's arms, fights, and nightmares that wake everyone up with the screaming.

People have to be stopped from hurting themselves or others, bitter words soothed and apologized for from grudges better left on the island. A lot of people have to be taken out of their own heads, and finally some of the more shell shocked people are brought around to lucidity.

Bad in particular takes days to stop staring blankly at the horizon to come uncurled from Dapper, who hasn't tried to really leave or disturb his father except for food and water to be shared, and is very tired from everything. Nobody blames Dapper for living, and are happy he's alive, but the other parents tend to avoid him just a bit when the sight is too much, and Dapper is very much also in shock.

They're very worried when Bad's memory starts to blank or when he gets confused, they think from a serious head wound and trauma he underwent, but cant do much then be there for him and hope he can heal from it.

But they have each other, and they're alive, and that has to be enough.

Then, after a time, they end up back on Quesadilla island.

They all spend the next few weeks still living/piled together, after undergoing vigorous examination and interrogation from the Federation, until they feel safer and can unlearn the habits born from fear and survival, specially Bolas who... let a lot of themselves go in order to survive what happened, and the feral need that came with it.

They then reunite with the people either pulled from Purgatory or those who never went, and most of the Purgatory-experienced people are absorbed into their habits and those unknowing watch, horrified, and try to help the best they can but often have problems connecting due to not being able to understand.

After they start to disperse, they live in groups or pairs for a while to keep watch or provide comfort, some people even making temporary, or even permeant, new homes while they figure out their new place in the world. It's common to have giant sleepovers at a newly constructed building, they fortify and kit out to be safe and comfortable.

Everybody lives, for their own reasons, healthily or unhealthily, for sad or good reasons.

And then, one day, the eggs are returned to them. Sleeping, in bad condition in a hospital, but they are alive and they are home, even with new Eggs too. And they are thankful they are alive to see their kids, and live for them too.

Please, if you did enjoy, reblog and just not like. Likes do nothing and it's kinda disheartening to see like 50 likes and 4 reblogs only for it to die because nobody else sees it after the first 3 days. I'd appreciate it greatly! <3

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eustassslut · 11 months

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If we're talking full Stockholm Syndrome what does the reader like about our Yandere boys? Heat and Killer obviously give gifts and treat the reader decently but do Kid and Wire care if they're liked and what do they do to win affection?

this is a very good question actually. i think what the reader likes about each boy would depend on the individual experiences shared between all of them.

with Heat, i think the reader would like how eager he is to please them. Heat is so desperate to have his affections received that he'll do anything for the reader, even if it means breaking some rules and giving them gifts he's not supposed to buy. falling into this twisted love with Heat guarantees the reader with more safety and stability than with the others, despite the fact he is definitely the most delusional. the reader would also like that Heat naturally runs hot and lets them hug him when they're cold, as well as that he waits for them to initiate physical contact and doesn't try to make it sexual unless the reader wants it to be.

Killer's main selling point for the reader would be how easy he is to talk to. despite his long list of insecurities and his hatred of talking about his own feelings or emotions, Killer is extremely observant and knows exactly what his crew is feeling or thinking. he doesn't like to gossip and tends to just keep anything he's told to himself unless he feels it's a threat to the crew. so whatever the reader tells him, stays between them because he likes feeling that they have such a special bond that the others will never understand or relate to.

Killer also knows when punishments are going too far and because he has the most authority on the ship since everyone listens to him, Killer can step in at any time to help the reader without them getting in trouble. the reader would like how dependable he is and would begin to fall for him because of how he treats them with such respect and care after each punishment, making sure they're fed and looked after properly.

with both Heat and Killer, the reader would like how similar it is to having actual boyfriends. both boys are clearly insane and have trapped the reader on their ship forever but during the quiet and peaceful moments it's easy to pretend like this is a proper relationship with communicate, gifts and physical affection.

Kid and Wire however, are significantly harder for the reader to find something to bond with them over it or to feel anything positive because of how cruel and abusive both boys naturally act.

on the surface Kid and Wire both like to pretend they don't care about having their feelings reciprocated and that the reader refuses to touch or look at them unless forced, but secretly it really upsets them. they are both incredibly touch starved and just want to be liked by the person they love. when the reader first 'joins' the crew, neither of them give a shit about receiving affection or building a relationship. but when the reader starts giving Heat and Killer affection as the Stockholm Syndrome begins to take place, Wire and Kid naturally start to get jealous of the others.

suddenly Kid wants to have quiet moments in his workshop with the reader where they just cuddle up together doing their own things and wants the reader to sit on his lap whilst he creates them pretty gifts from scratch. so he starts putting in the effort to find out what they like and figure out what their hobbies are. it doesn't matter whatever the reader's interest might be, Kid wants to know it and will happily sit listening to them talk about it for hours. however, he's not going to approach this properly and will basically just yell at the poor reader to tell him about themselves out of the blue. so unfortunately for Kid it's going to be a slow process until the reader fully starts to experience the effects of Stockholm Syndrome for him but when they do, the reader would like how Kid prioritises whatever they have to say and takes whatever they say (only about their hobbies/themselves) on board.

the reader would also become more drawn and attached to Kid if he ever showed his more vulnerable side, which is usually reserved for Killer, to them.

with Wire, however, it is a lot harder to find things to like about him. he's just too mean and horrible to the reader, there's nothing to really like about how he constantly bullies and ridicules them. but that doesn't mean it's not possible to experience Stockholm Syndrome for him! it would just take a lot longer to begin developing compared to the others because he's so confusing and difficult to get along with. it wouldn't happen until the reader starts to notice just how sweet and caring Wire can be towards his crew members in the relaxing moments. suddenly the reader begins to hyper-fixate on this soft side that Wire has to others and starts putting in some subconscious effort to please him.

it would take them a while, but within a year of living on the Victoria Punk, the reader begins to develop an understanding of Wire and becomes increasingly happier to play along with his cruel games for the rare moments where he's so gentle towards them. whilst this want to be liked by the other would probably be one sided for the reader, Wire would increasingly grow eager to trade a nicer version of himself to the reader in exchange for the things he feels he needs. if giving the reader privacy or the opportunity to cry in peace makes it so they take his cruel version of affection, then he's happy to make the trade. therefore, the only instance i can really see the reader beginning to fall for Wire is through how he openly treats others around him and that is what they would like the most about them.

overall, like you mentioned, Heat and Killer would be the ones to obsessively give gifts of things deemed valuable to the reader for any affection they can get due to being so incredibly touch starved and lonely which results in a very quick Stockholm Syndrome scenario. however i also think that Kid would also give them gifts that he made for affection, but this would only happen if he had begun to want to have his feelings reciprocated by the reader/when he decides he is also in dire need of affection and would only result in a Stockholm Syndrome scenario with the reader if he made the first move to be more gentle. Wire however is too mean to truly ever give proper gifts since he doesn't really care about being loved back by the reader but his versions are the most valuable when remembering how mean he is.

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