#but now its ramping up in terms of the shit we have to do and the emotional/mental taxation

[pr]

yeah turns out having to email responses to guests asking for refunds after a shooting at your job is um extremely soul sucking

#i hate that 1. this happened #2. this was the final week and we were supposed to be winding down and enjoying the final days #but now its ramping up in terms of the shit we have to do and the emotional/mental taxation #and feels totally endless #this sucks soooooo bad lol #op

[like-a-bantha]

Alright and Always Getting Better

Summary: What are you gonna do when the war's over? Sorry, too heavy?

Pairing: The Bad Batch & GN Reader (Platonic, no use of y/n, reader's appearance never described)

Rating: T

Warnings: Language, not beta-read

Word Count: 3.3k

A/N: Heeeey... Sorry I was MIA for a bit. Quit my job, got a new job, sorted some shit out. Kinda sorta back now. More to come, anyway. Hope you enjoy, I had a lot of fun with this one.

AO3 | Masterlist

I’ve been thinking a lot about the future lately. Not the tomorrow or next week or month type of future either. Long term. Hasn’t really happened since I was a kid, simpler times before war found my planet and divided it in two, turned us against each other. Back when everything was still good, when the worst fate that could befall me and my comrades was a scraped knee. When it would rain I’d sit by the window, always the one in the kitchen where the transparisteel was especially thin, listening to the silence between raindrops and imagining adventures I’d have one day with my friends, somewhere beyond the dark clouds on some distant planet. We never ended up having those adventures, of course. 

Every now and then when it rains I like to sit with the silence and imaginary memories from a more hopeful time. Once, not long after being assigned to the 99, I was hiding back on the Marauder after a mission while the others gathered under a canopy outside, taking advantage of the fresh air. Echo found me spaced out in the co-pilot's seat, I didn’t even notice he sat down next to me until he asked what I was thinking about and I gave a summarized report. He seemed sympathetic. I didn’t really know much about his past at the time – anyone’s past, really, it was strictly business those first couple of weeks – but I knew he was an ARC trooper, I knew he knew where my mind was, and he knew I knew he knew it’s not a great place for a mind to be.

“There’s a word for that feeling, actually,” His voice was so calm, both of us stared out the viewport at the raindrops slowly sliding down, picking up others along their way. “in Mando’a.”

Echo paused, waiting for me to ask. Eyes still trained straight ahead, long past the point of looking out the window, now zoned out with my gaze pointed in the general direction of ahead. “What is it?”

“Aay’han.”

“Aay’han.” I parrot him. He made a quiet sort of hum in affirmation. I mouth the word to myself again. “What does it mean?”

He was quiet for a minute, the kind of quiet where you can tell the words are there but you’re not sure if they’ll quantify the weight of what you mean. After a moment he said, “Loving something and knowing it’ll never come back.” My attention turned to him then and his to me, misty eyes meeting misty eyes. “Somewhere between nostalgia and mourning.”

Perhaps it was the force of my sharp inhale that made the first tear fall from my eye, running down my cheek like a raindrop on the viewport. The teardrop, however, is much different from the raindrop when you think about it: the teardrop is lonely, no others in its path will join in on its way down; the teardrop makes this journey alone. I turned my gaze back to the viewport. “Good word for it.” I saw him nod from the hazy corner of my teary eye so I nodded, too. “Aay’han.” And then we sat in silence for a long while. A comfortable silence that was only broken when Wrecker barrelled onto the ship shouting about a ‘fresher emergency. We both laughed through our tears as the giant clone called for us to clear out. I wiped my eyes and turned to Echo, still laughing, “It’s fully open, there is no one in the ‘fresher.”

Echo’s laughter slowed a bit in realization, hastily wiping his eyes as he stood from the pilot's seat. “I think he means the ship.”

My own laughter subsided when it finally dawned on me, I quickly followed Echo down the ramp and under the canopy where we promptly laughed ourselves to tears once more.

These days I mostly think about this future, not the future I thought of as a kid. This future is not nearly as fun to imagine. I’ve only had the mental fortitude to think about a future where we win the war. Now when I think about the future I can only picture it with these guys. I tried thinking about a future away from the Batch and it just seems so boring, so lonely; I’ve filed it away with the future where we don’t win, I don’t like either of those futures very much. I love the quiet, I do, but  I don’t think I was meant for a whole life of it. Maybe they aren’t either. I haven’t really asked them, when I do it comes out wrong and I don’t bother clarifying.

Like last week when we were having lunch, I think I asked something like, “What are you guys doing after this?”

To which a very confused Hunter replied, “Prepping for tomorrow’s mission? Remember?”

I just nodded.

We got back from that mission last night. It was raining when we landed. I slept like shit, woke up at three and couldn’t get back to sleep. I wandered over to the couch by the window but I could barely hear the patter of the rain through the thick transparisteel window so I decided to join the Marauder in the hangar. I came in through the people entrance but sat down by the ship entrance looking over the crashing waves of the ocean below, the only thing separating me from the deafening rainfall was the droning hum of the glowing blue shield. I didn’t put my chrono on before leaving, but by the gentle glow gradually growing behind the storm clouds I’d say it was around 0500 when Tech made his way into the hangar. He’s an early riser. And a night owl. Not a great combination. All this to say I wasn’t exactly surprised when I heard him call my name, just barely audible over the sound of the pouring rain.

“Hey,” I called as I rose to my feet to meet him by the ship, “Maintenance or repairs?”

He’s staring at his datapad scrolling through files rapidly and I can’t help but wonder how he reads so damn fast. “Maintenance for now. Though, I haven’t run the diagnostics scan on the hyperdrive yet, so that is subject to change.”

A laugh escaped me, briefly pulling his attention from the datapad with just the hint of a smile. “Can I help?” I’ve always liked helping Tech work on the Marauder. I’m definitely not an expert but I like asking questions and Tech likes answering them. Symbiotic. 

“Certainly.” And, naturally, we got to work. I got the easy job of checking wiring while Tech calibrated some complicated mechanism under the control panel. An acceleration compensator thing, I think? Anyway, I know my limits. His detailed explanation sort of helped, but I only caught about half of it and we both gave up after about 15 minutes. “You were up early.”

“Oh, yeah,” I paused, I wasn’t expecting concern about my sleep schedule from Tech of all people. I mean, the guy sleeps about three hours a night. Four, tops. “Just woke up, couldn’t fall back asleep.”

“May I ask why you chose to come here?”

“What, to the hangar?”

“Yes, where else?” Fair point. I abandon the wires for a moment, pondering Tech’s question.

“Dunno,” I hum, glancing over to where he lay, cramped beneath the control panel, “I like the rain. It helps me think about stuff.”

Without missing a beat, Tech poses the question of the hour, “What did you need to think about this morning?” And now the wires are the furthest thing from my mind while I process that loaded question. “You do not have to answer that, forgive my curiosity.”

“No, no, it’s cool, just thinking.”

“Is the rain no longer helpful?”

I gotta give it to him, that was good. “Guess not,” I laugh. Tech makes one final adjustment to the acceleration compensator and pulls himself out of the little crawl space while I slide down the adjacent wall, sitting with my knees pulled to my chest. “I’ve been thinking about after a lot.”

“After?” I hum, which doesn’t really clear things up, come to think of it. “After what?”

“The war.” I say it flat out and instantly regret it, expecting him to jump in with some pragmatic explanation as to why putting too much thought into the future is futile. He doesn’t. No, he’s got that look he gets when he’s stuck in a thought loop and misses the solution that seems so obvious in hindsight. “Sorry, I know it’s stupid, I just- I dunno, am I just supposed to go home? I don’t think I have one of those anymore, really. And this sense of purpose I’ve got now, is that just gonna go away once it’s all over, force-willing I see the end of it? Right now is a lot, yeah, but up next is forever, and that’s been scaring the shit out of me lately.” We both fall into this tentative silence for a few moments. Long moments, where we’re physically together, but mentally we are parsecs away looking for answers. I was the one to break the silence, trying to avoid that mental loop, but all I had was, “Sorry.”

“There’s no need to apologize,” his brows are furrowed, still clearly deep in thought, but he can multitask, “To be completely honest, I have not put any thought into our future beyond the war until now.”

“Also sorry because it’s probably a lot more complicated for you than it is for me and that is a hell of a bomb to drop at,” I glance at the center of the control panel, “0547.” Time out, our?

“Indeed. However, it is certainly something that must be thought about at some point.” I nod, I can always count on Tech to think about the practicality of it all. “I have surmised several possible outcomes, if you’ll allow me to share one.”

“Yeah, I only like the good ones, though,” I am allowed to be impractical with Tech, we balance each other out that way.

“In that case, I have surmised one possible outcome.” With wide eyes and mouth agape, I whip my head up, tearing my focus from a scuff mark on the durasteel floor I’d been staring at to meet his gaze and find him smiling proudly at his joke, yet again. “In the positive outcome, I presume clones will be effectively discharged from the military as the GAR would no longer require our service. And, seeing as your planet,” He pauses for just a second, and if I were to look really close I could probably see the high-speed scrolling of the datapad in his head as he finds a more gentle phrasing than is our enemy in this war, before he settles on a simple, “no longer suits you, we will have to find a new planet in which we can reside.”

Oh. Our. I feel my eyes just beginning to well so I sniffle a little first, then clear my throat before I can finally say, with a steady voice, “Yeah. Yeah, that’d be nice,” I clear my throat once more, “got any ideas yet? Planet-wise?”

“That,” He brings an inquisitive hand to his chin, deep in thought, “is a good question.” That does the trick, coaxing smiles from both of us even in the face of uncertainty and the vastness of possibilities both wonderful and terrible.

“Brainstorm while we run diagnostics?”

“Indeed,” Tech stands first, offering me a hand that I graciously accept, “you, however, still have wiring to check.”

“Ah, they seem fine to me,” I tease, already returning to the panel I’d abandoned with an exaggerated, dramatic huff of mock annoyance. “What about someplace warm?”

“I will search my records,” He says, already removing the datapad from his belt and scrolling rapidly, “How warm were you thinking?”

Our next assignment was given that afternoon. Some too-hot desert in the middle of nowhere on a planet that I’d never even heard of, and definitely not my idea of someplace warm. The heat was oppressive, the air dry. Absolutely zero chance of rain. My temperature regulator wasn’t cutting it, Tech said we can only run the most basic life-support on the Marauder lest we risk the Separatist base tracing our power levels, and, again, no karking rain. At this point I don’t even need it for introspection, it’s just too damn hot. We landed early in the morning, long before the afternoon heat would wash over the barren desert like a suffocating blanket. And it was suffocating, at least enough to slow me and Wrecker down as we stomped through miles of sand. The others are further ahead, clearly not as affected by the heat as us.

“How are they just, like, fine?” I huffed through my helmet’s speakers.

“I dunno, but I’m dyin’,” Wrecker’s speech slurred from exhaustion. I pass him my canteen and he pulls his helmet up to rest atop his head, visibly disappointed at the lack of relief given by removing it. I can’t talk, I had the exact same reaction only seconds later, peeling the helmet from my sweat-soaked head only for my eyes and lungs to be assaulted by the sun and sand. 

“Just once, can’t we get a mission on some tropical beach planet?” I say after taking a sip of water, now warm despite the canteen’s insulation, “It doesn’t even need to be a tropical beach, really. Breathable air, a little warm, sunny – but I think I’d prefer a bit overcast if possible. Oh, and lots of trees would be nice,” the thought comes to me verbally and with an involuntarily dreamy sigh, “for shade.”

“I miss shade.” Wrecker lets out a sigh of his own. We fall into a silence, both of us daydreaming of being – just anywhere that isn’t here.

“Where would you go?” The ambiguity of my question hit me as the words fell from my mouth. I correct myself before he even has a chance to think about it, “After all this is over, where do you wanna be?”

His weary eyes widen a bit as the question registers and I can see the gears turning. “I wanna go to one of those fancy restaurants back on Coruscant. Bet they have some pretty good food.”

Despite my exhaustion, a smile I didn’t think I had in me at the moment appears at the thought of it. Me and the guys dressed in our Benduday best, dining at a certified Cygnus Star Restaurant, drinking Chandrilan Squigs. “Yeah?”

“Yeah! And then maybe we can go find even better food on other planets, too!” Wrecker lets out a sleepy laugh. It’s much less exuberant than normal – like it wanted to be a belly laugh, it just didn’t have the energy to send it that far – but a classic Wrecker laugh nonetheless.

We spent the rest of that treacherous walk discussing where we would get our big celebratory meal one day. Hopefully soon, though, spend two and a half hours straight talking about food and tell me you wouldn’t be starving, not ten minutes in. A nice meal and decent weather and the best company. What more could I ask for.

It slipped out with Hunter. I really didn’t even think about it. We were re-organizing the supplies on the way back to Kamino, the ship was quiet, we were both over-tired and unable to sleep. We were just shooting the shit to pass the time, then I went and said, “What do you think you’ll do after the war?”

“Where’d that come from?” Hunter’s brows furrowed, not in anger but in genuine confused surprise. I just shrug. He takes a breath, churning the question for a moment, “I try not to think about it.”

“Try not to?” I tilt my head to the side inquisitively. He sighs, but that smile of his is hard to hide. “C’mon.”

His laugh is nearly silent, barely more just a shake in his shoulders before they sag in defeat. “I’d like to keep the squad together. Not sure what we’d do, but I think we’d figure it out.”

“You guys can do anything, I think.” A light chuckle escapes me as I imagine the Sergeant and his squadmates running a farmstand or managing some fancy restaurant near the top-side of Coruscant.

“Well,” Hunter sighs and when he turns to face me, I’m met with a look I haven’t seen in ages. A smile that can warm a home through a freezing winter, eyes soft and familial. It was long before joining the GAR that I’d last seen a smile so kind, and for just a moment, I swear I saw my family in his eyes. “You’ll have to help us narrow it down, then. If you’d like.”

“Yeah,” I lean over just enough to bump my shoulder into his arm with a wide smile, “I’d like.”

I asked Crosshair last. I knew I wouldn’t get a straight answer, but I still wanted to include him in my questioning. We were sitting opposite each other at our messy table back on Kamino. He was cleaning his rifle, a task I just love trying to interrupt but always to no avail, while I was tossing around some spherical tool or part or whatever Tech had left laying around. Finders keepers. “Hey, what are you gonna do when the war’s over?”

“No.” He doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t look up from his task. Laser focus.

“Okay, so first you’re going to make it official and marry your gun, yeah, but what next?” He’s completely unamused. I suck my teeth. “I know you’ve thought about it, Crosshair, you gotta tell me. Like if you’re a cop. It’s illegal if you don’t tell me, I think. If you don’t, you’ll-”

“Only if you’ll shut up after.” His movement stops but his gaze remains fixed on the rifle.

“Deal.” I lean forward, bored jitters now stilled in anticipation, I put the ball thing on the table and put my hands in my lap. Active listening.

“I’d serve the Republic.”

My eyes narrow, I wait for him to say more, explain his answer in some way. He’s still just staring at the disassembled gun on the table. “Nope, I don’t buy that. Deal’s off. Hey, did you know there’s a planet with this weird vegetable that’s, like, incomprehensibly sweet? And it doesn’t- it can’t grow anywhere else in the galaxy. I asked Tech about it and he was like-”

“Stop." I did it. I finally interrupted his cleaning routine. “I don’t care. As long as we’re still helping the Republic, helping people, I don’t care.” My wild grin softens at the use of we. Maybe it’s a me we, which would be nice, but a him and his brothers we is just as sweet. Crosshair, of course, instantly sees my shift in expression. “Don’t.” My smile remains soft in the face of his annoyance, and I think he’s just seen the question I don’t dare ask aloud. “You’re there, too.” His face is almost too flat, like there’s a smile hiding there somewhere, only it’s not that great at hiding. My smile grows, somehow, and my eyes crinkle and my nose scrunches and my boot taps against his armored shin under the table. “I said don’t.”

“I’m not!” I put my hands up, pleading innocent. I’m just happy, is all – giggly, even, “I literally said nothing.” His focus returns to the gun but he’s yet to get back to work. “We’re best friends,” there’s a giddy little tune to it. The shout of my name, I was later told, was heard as far as the ‘fresher around the corner at the end of the hallway.

A/N: I'll be back soon, I swear. Title is from Coals by Modern Baseball. Hope you liked it, thanks for reading <3 Comments and shares make my brain go brrrrr :)

#the bad batch x reader #the bad batch & reader #the bad batch #hunter tbb #wrecker tbb #echo tbb #tech tbb #crosshair tbb #star wars x reader

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Bill Gates will kill us all

2.5b people in Earth's 130 poorest countries have not been vaccinated. The 85 poorest countries won't be vaccinated until 2023. The humanitarian cost is unforgivable - and self-defeating, as each infected person is a potential source of new strains.

https://www.who.int/director-general/speeches/detail/who-director-general-s-opening-remarks-at-the-media-briefing-on-covid-19-5-february-2021

How the actual fuck did this happen?

What happened to the early pledges by governments, the WHO, public health experts and leading research institutions to create global cooperation in vaccine development, eschewing patents and secrecy so that we could rescue our species?

That dream was smashed.

Many people helped create our vaccine apartheid, the single individual who did the most to get us here is Bill Gates, through his highly ideological "philanthropic" foundation, which exists to push his pitiless doctrine of unfettered monopoly.

It was Gates who sabotaged the WHO Covid-19 Technology Access Pool (C-TAP), replacing it with his failed ACT-Accelerator, a system of patents and secrecy and vast profits for the pharma industry, ornamented with nonbinding, failed promises of access for poor nations.

It was Gates who convinced Oxford to renege on its promise of patent-free access to its publicly funded vaccine research for the global south in favor of exclusive patent access for Astrazeneca.

https://khn.org/news/rather-than-give-away-its-covid-vaccine-oxford-makes-a-deal-with-drugmaker/

When we hear ghoul sellouts like Howard Dean pushing the racist, genocidal lie that "patents don't matter" because brown people in poor countries can't make vaccines, we're hearing Gates's talking points:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/04/08/howard-dino/#the-scream

Gates's role in vaccine apartheid is laid out in exquisite detail in Alexander Zaitchik's outstanding New Republic feature, which delves into Gates's longstanding project to sideline democratic governments and cooperation in favor of monopoly tyranny.

https://newrepublic.com/article/162000/bill-gates-impeded-global-access-covid-vaccines

This goes way, way back. I mean, *waaaay* back, all the way to 1976, when Gates wrote his infamous "Open Letter to Hobbyists," decrying the dominant, cooperative mode of software development and calling its practitioners thieves.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Open_Letter_to_Hobbyists

Gates's fortune depended on creating a software monopoly, and that monopoly required "intellectual property" protection. Gates has always been a monopolist, and so naturally, he loves IP (before "IP" was a common term, copyrights and patents were called "monopolies").

Intellectual property is a very important part of the inequality story, the story of how we got to a world where billions of people are denied vaccines and where all people face new, more virulent strains as a result.

As UNCTAD chief economist Richard Kozul-Wright told Lynn Fries for GPE: "[IP allows companies] to grab a larger share of what has already been produced in the economy."

It's a means of extracting rents, not for doing things, but for OWNING things.

IP is key to tax avoidance: companies like Ikea transfer "IP" (the Ikea trademark) to a numbered company in a tax haven; each national Ikea subsidiary pays "licensing fees" for the trademark equal to 100% of their in-country profits, so they never earn a (taxable) cent.

The transformation of the world into a monopolized system of IP-heavy, rent-extracting, tax-dodging companies really kicked into gear after 1999, with the signing of the WTO agreement and its IP adjunct, the TRIPPS, and as Zaitchik details, Gates was instrumental there.

For this part of the story, Zaitchik talks to Jamie Love, who was at the UN when NGOs like his were pushing to create vaccine and other pharma pools for the global south, while pharma companies handed out pamphlets bearing the Gates Foundation logo, smearing the plan.

Though the US delegation struggled for credibility, the combination of the Gates Foundation, and former US trade officials fronting for  the global pharma industry managed to sideline the project, which was being driven by the demand for equitable access to AIDS drugs.

With Gates's help, the WTO emerged as an IP enforcement powerhouse. Zaitchik cites Dylan Mohan Gray: "it took Washington 40 years to threaten apartheid South Africa with sanctions and less than four to threaten the post-apartheid Mandela government over AIDS drugs."

Incredibly, the Gates Foundation used this to burnish its humanitarian image: they solicited donations from pharma companies and used them to subsidize AIDS drugs in the global south, a maneuver that let them seem like philanthropists.

When in reality, they had overseen a program to systematically deny the world's poorest and most threatened people the right to make their own drugs, making them dependent on the whims of multinational corporate charity instead.

Sound familiar? Today, Gates runs around repeating the lie that poor people can't make their own medicine,  saying that patent exemptions won't make a difference now - to the extent he's right, the world *now* is the crucial one.

Having sabotaged the efforts by poor countries to engage in the kind of production ramp-up the rich world saw as vaccines were being developed, it may *now* be too late. "Because of my bad ideas *then*, it's too late *now*."

The connection between IP and elite philanthropy is deep and important. IP's rent-seeking and tax-dodging has made poor countries beholden to offshore monopolists in health, agriculture and IT, and then starved them of taxes to build up domestic alternatives.

This, in turn, makes them dependent on "gifts" from the billionaires who arm-twisted them into IP treaties, forced them to pay rent on all domestic production, and then profit-shifted the funds out of the reach of their tax-collectors.

As Anand Giridharadas reminded us in his seminal "Winners Take All," the core purpose of elite philanthropy has been the same since the robber-baron era: to burnish the reputations of monsters who take everything and give back crumbs.

https://memex.craphound.com/2018/11/10/winners-take-all-modern-philanthropy-means-that-giving-some-away-is-more-important-than-how-you-got-it/

Reading Jamie Love's quotes in Zaitchik's article reminded me of my own time working with Jamie and Knowledge Ecology International at WIPO in Geneva, when I was an NGO delegate to a global DRM treaty.

You see, at WIPO, the vast majority of NGOs aren't human rights organizations or other public interest groups - they're industry associations representing tech, entertainment, broadcast and pharma monopolists.

These guys - almost all guys - were just aghast when real NGOs started showing up for these meetings and were absolutely shameless in their sabotage of our efforts to balance their corporate lies (absolutely bald-faced lies were routinely entered into the debates).

How petty? Well, they had been accustomed to writing up "fact-sheets" for the day's debate and handing them off to WIPO staffers working for the secretariat, who would photocopy them and set them out on literature tables for the national delegates.

So we started doing this too: we'd take careful notes on the day's debates, convene with global experts to debunk industry association lies, get our Indymedia friends to translate them into six languages, and hand them off to the secretariat in the morning for copying.

So they got the secretariat - a former US textiles negotiator who made her bones helping create the conditions for slave labor in places like Bangladesh - to end the practice of photocopying papers for all NGOs.

Of course the industry bodies had cushy offices in Geneva, whereas we stayed in flophouses and youth hostels. They could ask their underlings to come in early and do their copying for them, whereas we had to take a bus to the all-night copy-shop to get our handouts copied.

Here's where it gets super-weird: our handouts started to go missing. We'd set out our stacks of paper on the literature tables before the morning session and an hour later, they'd all be gone, but none of the delegates had managed to get a copy.

We found those missing handouts...in the garbage, behind potted plants and in the *toilets*.

No, seriously.

And here's the kicker: during the ensuing furore, the main response from the pharma lobbyists was to object to us calling ourselves "public interest NGOs."

I'll never forget this smarmy sociopath in his expensive suit, with his shit-eating grin, standing there saying, "Phamaceuticals serve the public interest, and our industry association is a nonprofit. We are a non-profit, public-interest NGO."

It was a remarkable sight. 20 years later, their version of the public interest - the doctrine of Gates - has produced a multi-billion-person reservoir of the sick and vulnerable who are doomed to serve as factories for highly virulent variants.

This is a literally genocidal doctrine, and it threatens our very civilization. It's a funny kind of non-profit, public interest move for an industry and its billionaire ideologue funders to have made.

But hey, at least no one's "intellectual property" took a hit.

#pluralistic

[magpie-to-the-morning]

On Fire from Within

Rating: Explicit (18+ ONLY)

Pairing: Din Djarin x Fem!Reader

Wordcount: 3.8k

Tags: Self-Indulgent, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, the helmet comes off, Blindfolds, Sex Pollen, Dirty talk, Mostly in Mando’a, Hand Jobs, Oral Sex, PiV Sex, Din is soft and a mess, and so am I, so much Mando'a because I cannot be stopped, Please let me know if I missed anything

Summary: Reader is a newish crew member on the Razor Crest. She was helping out on a bounty hunting mission when she got hit with a laced dart at a shady brothel. It's a sex pollen fic lads, you know how this goes!

Read on Ao3

“Fuck,” you swore softly, pulling a small barb from the back of your neck. It’s only a little thing, a geometric pattern of angles and sharp points. Odd for a piece of shrapnel, but surely nothing to worry about. The small wound wouldn’t be worth the Bacta gel. You tossed it away before walking up the ramp into the Crest.

“Everything ok?” Mando stepped away from the controls of the carbonite chamber. You hadn’t realized he was so close, and startled when you heard the question crackling through his modulator.

“Yeah, it’s nothing. That bastard frozen yet?”

“Just about.”

“Good. That place made me want to scrub the inside of my skin.” You’d just finished helping Mando drag a bounty out of a local bar running an illegal “pleasure house.” It certainly hadn’t deserved the name, and you were more than happy to provide an initial distraction so Mando could come in for the kill. (The metaphorical kill, sadly. You would have been happy to leave the owner of that awful establishment a smoking crater on the floor of his bar, but apparently that was “not following the brief” and “wouldn’t bring in as much money for fuel.” Pfft). There had been a little static on the way out, and you assume that’s when you’d picked up that bit of metal. “I’m going to hit the refresher, unless you need it first?”

The bounty hunter shook his head and moved towards the ramp. “No. I’m going to trade in the puck and get us out off this rock. You go ahead.”

--

You checked the controls of the shower. Again. You’re sweating, and as much as you try, you can’t get the water cold enough to soothe your burning skin. You arch your back, moaning when the stretching movement sends a dart of pleasure straight to your aching cunt. Fuck, why are you such a mess all of a sudden? You slip a hand between your legs and are shocked to discover that you are already dripping wet. You rub the back of your neck and it hits you- that wasn’t shrapnel. It must have been a dart laced with something, and knowing the type of place you were in, you’d bet any amount of credits it was a nasty aphrodisiac. “Those bastards…”

You drag your hands through your hair and take a steadying breath. Ok, you can handle this, pull yourself together… Nice empty ship and a hot shower. Nothing you haven’t done before. You let your hands drift lower, massaging your breast and tweaking an already pert nipple. You’re already so close…

__

An hour later and you’re sobbing from want. Why can’t you just. Fucking. Come already? You’ve tried everything, every fantasy, every technique or touch, and nothing. You try again, stroking your clit and spiraling towards release before it slips away again, a jolt of pain rebounding through you. “Damn it!”

“Y/N? What’s wrong?”

You freeze. You hadn’t realized how much time had passed, of course Mando is back. What had he heard? “Um, nothing, it’s fine!” You wince at how falsely this rings, even to you.

There’s a pause. “Open the door.”

“… no? I’m not-“

“Open the door. Or I will break it down.”

Shit. You have a second to grab a towel before the door clangs open. Mando is through the door and into the tiny room in an instant, hand on his blaster. He checks all the corners which, takes about 2 seconds, before turning that implacable, visored gaze on you. “What’s going on with you?”

“Jeez, Mando, I-“ you try to bluff your way out of it for a moment before giving it up for lost. Even if you could explain away everything else, you know your flushed cheeks and glassy eyes will give you away. “Fine, just, promise you won’t laugh?”

“Is something funny?”

“No, it really isn’t.” You sigh. “So, I didn’t realize until we got back to the ship, but someone back at that hole in the wall hit me with some kind of dart. I think it was drugged.”

“Show me.”

“I chucked it just before I got on board, but this is where it hit.” You pull your wet hair back to show him the mark on your neck. Mando crosses the floor in one step, and you feel one of his gloved hands steady your shoulder as he takes a closer look. That small touch is enough to drive you wild, and you bite back a groan, leaning into his touch.

“Dank ferrik.” Mando pulls his hands away like he’s been burned, and your cheeks flame again, this time in embarrassment. “There are red marks at the injection site. I’ve, uh.. I’ve seen this before.”

You grit your teeth, finding it easier to talk about when you’re not looking at him. “It hurts, Mando and I can’t make it stop. How long am I going to feel like this?”

“Until it runs its course. Usually, a few hours. And it will get worse.”

You swear again, tears of frustration slipping down your cheeks. Mando stands there for a moment, flexing his hands and looking unsure of what to say. Finally, you hear a deep breath and, “let me help you.”

You startle, sure you’ve heard him wrong. It’s only been a few months since you signed on as his only crew member, a live-in mechanic and occasional extra pair of hands for certain bounties. You’d thought about it, of course. At first you’d seen this as just another short term gig. Some light repair work, the odd stint of standing lookout or patching up his wounds or acting as a distraction for a tricky bounty. The longer you spent with him though, the longer you started to see the man beneath the armor, his dark humor, his unexpected kindness, his tendency to throw himself into harm’s way for the sake of a code you can’t begin to understand. Stars, and that voice… but you knew he would never return those feelings. The idea of him offering himself to you now, out of pity or worse, obligation…

“No.” You move to shoulder past him.

He grabs your wrist. “Look, Y/N, I know I may not be your first choice but-“

You whirl around to glare at him. “Not my- damn it, Mando!” You kick the waste bin in sheer frustration. “I’ve wanted you for weeks and just because I don’t want you to feel cornered into sleeping with me you have the fucking gall-“

“Close your eyes.”

You blink in confusion. “Wait, what?”

“Do it. Now.” You shiver at the steel in his voice and comply without another thought.

There’s a soft hiss, and the clang of metal set down on metal. He couldn’t have. He wouldn’t… You start in surprise, feeling his leather-clad fingers cup your face and tip your chin up. “Are you sure you want this?”

You laugh, a little shakily, amazed to hear how deep and rough his unmodulated voice still is. “Are you?”

The next thing you know, he’s got you backed up against that wall. You gasp, reaching to pull him closer. His mouth slides over yours, lips warm and surprisingly plush. You deepen the kiss and moan, needing so much more. He responds by reaching down, pulling you up to straddle his waist. Trapped between the wall and a cage of Beskar, you’ve never felt freer. You card your fingers through his hair, marveling at the curls under your hands. Mando gasps, already sounding ragged. “How do you want me?”

You drag your nails down his scalp and lick your way up the column of his throat. You taste salt and pant into his ear, “in the cockpit chair.”

Mando groans. “You have been thinking about this, haven’t you, sweet girl?”

“Less talk. More chair sex.”

He huffs a laugh against your neck and pulls you from the wall, carrying you through the ship like you don’t weigh a thing. You make it through the corridor, with only a few brief stops against walls and doorways. Mando sets you down once you reach the cockpit and you whine at the lack of his touch, but still keep your eyes closed. He kisses your forehead. “Patience, sweet girl.” You give up the last shreds of your dignity and moan, rubbing your thighs together. “Can’t, I need you to touch me now.” You hear a few soft clinks, and realize Mando is removing his armor, piece by piece. Not wanting to be outdone, you toss your towel aside. Your eyes are still shut tight, but you add a hand to cover them, afraid you’ll forget yourself. You may not understand his beliefs, but you are damn sure going to respect them, even now.

There’s startle at a ripping sound, and Mando asking “Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” you breathe.

“Good. Keep your eyes closed.” Mando pulls your hand away, pressing a kiss to your palm before knotting a blindfold around your eyes. You feel yourself pulled down to his lap. You twine your arms around his neck and lower yourself until you’re straddling his hips, grinding as close to him as you can.

“Tell me what you need.”

“Touch me.”

He’s eager to comply, and you shiver as you feel his hands (his hands, not the gloves, stars) skim up your sides. Mando cups the back of your head, drawing you closer as he kisses and licks his way into your mouth. You immediately open your lips to his, stroking his tongue with your own, teasing the roof of his mouth to egg him on. You’re rewarded with a small groan, and Mando palming your left breast. He strokes your nipple with his thumb, rolling and pinching it to make you arch your back. “What else?”

“Maker, that’s so good… talk to me, Mando, don’t stop touching me.”

“Never, mesh’la.” Mando rolls his hips and makes you squirm against him. You can feel his arousal, pressed so close to your own, separated only by the canvas of his trousers. You mewl and buck your hips against him.

“Oh gods, yes…”

Mando chuckles as your breath speeds up. “You’re so gorgeous, Y/N, going to take such good care of you. Going to make this so good for you.”

He bends his head and sucks one of your nipples into his warm mouth, and you nearly black out. The sheer relief of such a touch when you need it so badly nearly undoes you completely. “Mando…”

“Din.” The word is muffled against your chest, and you have to ask “what?”

He rests his forehead against shoulder. “My name, Din Djarin.”

“Din,” you taste the short name, adding it to what you’ve learned about this man. This capable, dangerous, surprisingly gentle Mandalorian. How can such a hard man be so… This train of thought is interrupted as another wave of desire bowls you over, making you shudder with need and pain. “I need more, Din, please…”

You don’t even need to finish that thought before you feel his rough, calloused fingers drifting down your belly and lower, lower… You lean back to give him easier access, his other arm coming to rest around your waist, holding you up. You gasp when he strokes your folds. “Me’bana? You’re so wet, mesh’la. Is this all for me?” He doesn’t wait for a response before slowly fucking two of his fingers deep inside you, dragging the pads over your G-spot over and over. He’s a quick learner, adapting to touch you harder or softer, quicker or slower, as you gasp and buck your hips. “So good for me, so wet and ready. Do you want me to make you come?”

“Yes, yes, please Din, I’m so close…” you whine.

Din rubs your clit while fucking his fingers into you. He bites down on your earlobe, whispering, “Then come for me, cyare.”

You do. You cry out as you feel yourself coming apart under his hands, your hips thrashing despite you as you moan and call out his name. When you drift back to yourself, you’re grateful for his supporting hold as waves of pleasure continue to roll through you. Din strokes you through all of it, only backing off when your breathing slows and pressing a kiss to your forehead.

__

You exhale slowly, taking stock after that release. “That was… whew…” Now that you have a moment to think clearly again, you can feel your mind spinning up to overthink this. Will you ever be able to look at your employer (partner? friend?) again? Not that you can ever look him in the eye anyway, but what if he’s completely disgusted with you after this? Your racing thoughts pause when you hear what can only be Din sucking your slick from his fingers.

“Maker, you taste as good as I hoped you would.” Thoughts: gone. Brain: empty. There can’t be any room for overthinking when your head is suddenly full of HE THOUGHT ABOUT TASTING ME?! “How do you feel?”

You force yourself to consider this. You can already feel the fire in your core roaring back to life. “Good, but, I can already feel it ramping back up.” You blush. “Not that I didn’t… I totally did, but.. sorry…”

“Shh, k’uur. I get it. Just relax and let me take care of you.” He stands up, depositing you gently in his seat. You only have a moment to wonder at this sudden shift before feeling him kneel down in front of you. Without even thinking about it, you let your legs fall open to him. “That’s it, sweet girl, let me see that pretty pussy.”

If you weren’t already positive you were running a fever, that would have tipped you over the edge. Din runs his hands up your thighs, his breath ghosting over your throbbing core. “Ibac’ner. Ni copaanir dinuir gar ner lalat akay gar jair.” Is he… praying? You’re past the point of caring, all you want is for him to stop sucking marks into your inner thigh and finally move to where you need him most. You nearly scream when he drags his tongue up your slit. He flattens his tongue against you, humming appreciatively as your roll your hips. He wraps his arms around your thighs suddenly, jerking you closer towards him. “Jatisyc, ni larayc teh gar.”

You are glad of the blindfold because you are so far beyond controlling your face. Din’s tongue feels like it is everywhere at once, tonguing your cunt like it was your mouth one second, then laving your clit the next. You curl your toes and howl when he sucks your clit into his mouth and you feel the barest hint of teeth around you. “So close, so close” you chant, reaching down to hold his head right where you need it.

Din releases your clit, licking circles around it instead. “You liked that, didn’t you cyare? Do you like it a little rough?”

You shudder, thrilled to have been caught out so soon. “Gods, yes.”

Din chuckles and you hope you haven’t slipped up by confessing quite so enthusiastically. “Oh this is going to be fun. I am going to ruin you, mesh’la.” He dives back into your pussy, licking and sucking and nipping at your thighs like a wild thing. You whine and arch your back.

“Hold. Still.” Din’s arm clamps over your waist like an iron bar. “How am I supposed to finish you off, if you won’t stop writhing around, you etyc dala?” When you push your luck, trying to squirm free, you feel a sharp slap to your thigh. “Are you going to be a good girl and let me make you come? Or should I leave you here by yourself?”

“No, please, I’ll be good for you I promise!”

“Damn right you will,” he snarls. Without warning, Din shoves two fingers into your cunt and wraps his lips around your clit, sucking hard. You come in a rush, screaming his name.

__

You’ve barely come down from that high before chasing your next. While your first orgasm left you with some temporary relief, this one only stokes the fire even higher. You seize Din’s face from where he was resting his cheek against your thigh and pull him to your mouth. Reticence is a distant memory and you devour the taste of yourself from his mouth. When Din leans back and groans from this spectacle, you palm his length, spear-straight and hard as Beskar under your hand.  Din shudders underneath you, and you can almost see the effort of restraining himself.  You trace the shell of his ear and murmur “Why are you still wearing pants?”

Din rushes to his feet, pulling you from the chair and pushing you up against the nearest wall in one smooth motion. He holds you in place with one arm across your breastbone, panting with effort. “Hang on, I don’t want to rush you.“

You wish you could look at him, to show you the burning desire in your eyes, how much you truly want this. Alas. You settle for dropping to your knees and fumbling blindly with the fastenings of his trousers.

“Dank ferrik…” a muttered oath somewhere above your head. Din reaches down to help you, drawing his cock out. Once again, you wish the blindfold wasn’t necessary. You can feel the velvet-soft skin of him, trace the head of his cock and stroke up and down the length of him, but you wish you could see him. You breathe over him and, holding his shaft to help guide you (and madden him), lick just under the tip of his cock. You run your tongue around the ridge and lick your lips before taking him as far down your throat as you can. Din hisses and unleashes a stream of Basic and that same tongue he’d been speaking earlier. “Fuck… ori jate, ori jate, yes, Y/N. Parer, ke’pare, ah!”

You hum around him, loving the sound of him absolutely losing it. “Too much?” you ask, all innocence.

Din actually growls. “Yes. Don’t stop, please.”

You smile, hoping he can see you amidst his unraveling. You bob your lips over the head of his cock, once, twice, before sliding down the length of him as far as you can take. Din’s fingers tangle in your hair and you can feel him jerking his hips, holding back from fucking your face like he clearly wants to. You pull back again, letting go  of his cock with a wet pop. “Don’t hold back, baby, I want all of you.”

This is more than Din can stand. He hauls you roughly to your feet, kissing you with abandon. “Say that again?”

“I want you Din, please. I fucking need you.”

Din grabs one of your legs and holds it over his hip. He teases your entrance while you beg him, rubbing against your folds. You moan in relief when he finally thrusts home, stretching you and dragging against your walls. You rake your nails down his back, biting at his shoulder. “Gods, yes, that’s so fucking good. Don’t hold back. Unh, yes, yes, yes…” He is pounding into you now, setting a brutally quick pace- just like you need. You try to kiss him but you’re getting sloppy and your kiss is more just dragging your open mouth along his jaw, panting as he fucks you. “Din, I’m so close…”

“That’s good, you’re so good at taking this cock aren’t you, mesh’la? Me'copaani? Do you want me to tell you how I’ve fantasized about fucking you over the console almost since you came on board? Do you want to hear how good it feels to be buried in your cunt, with your tight pussy around me? Because it is good, Y/N, and I am going to fucking destroy you.”

You scream his name. “Gods, Din, I’m gonna come!”

He seizes you by the throat, not hard enough to cut off your air but more than enough to let you know who is in charge now. “I want to feel you come on my cock. Come on, cyare, give it to me. Come. Now.”

It’s the full on bounty hunter voice command that slams you over the edge. You come hard, shaking in Din’s arms and soaking his cock. You absolutely would have fallen without him holding you up. He fucks you through it all, and as the aftershocks roll through you, you realize the screaming urgency has finally quieted. You can just about remember talking him through his own release before slipping below the cool depths of unconsciousness.

—

“Y/N? Here, drink this.”

You blink awake and feel a cold glass pressed into your hand. You take a sip. The icy water grounds you, and you take stock of your surroundings. You’re curled up in the captain’s seat, warm under a slightly tattered woolen blanket, or maybe a cloak? It takes you a moment before you realize what else is different. You can see again. “Din?”

“I’m here.” His voice is distant, slightly fuzzed. You look around, seeing him once again hidden beneath the helmet. “How do you feel?”

You’re still restless, like some distant part of you needs to get up and run or fight or fuck, but your limbs are feeling a bit heavier now and it’s easier to breathe. “Better.” You lift the glass again, drinking the rest of the water like you’ve never tasted anything so sweet.

Din lays his hand on your cheek, and you’re relieved to find that at least this bit of him has not been covered up again. “You’re still running a temperature but it feels like it’s easing up.” He takes the empty glass from you, setting it aside before taking your hand and drawing you up. “Come on, let’s get you to your bunk.”

You rise, unsteady on your legs after several rounds of fairly vigorous sex. Din steadies your elbow, guiding you out of the cockpit. “Sick of me already?” You’re aiming for a light tone but you know you missed the mark.

Din turns you to face him and studies you for a moment. “Yeah. Probably going to drop you off on the next planet we hit.”

You narrow your eyes at him, looking at your own skeptical face in the reflection of his visor. “Oh yeah?”

He presses his forehead to yours, stroking your cheek with his thumb. “No, ner kar’ta.” You couldn’t tell before, but now you’re almost sure he’s smiling. “I think you’re stuck with me for awhile.”

_________________________________

Mando'a Translations mesh'la beautiful

Ibac’ner. Ni copaanir dinuir gar ner lalat akay gar jair. This is mine. Going to give you my tongue until you scream.

Jatisyc, ni larayc teh gar. Delicious, I (am) drunk from you.

Etyc dala dirty girl

Ori jate so good

Parer wait

Ke'pare wait (emphatic)

Me'copaani? What's this?

Ner kar’ta My heart

#Din Djarin x Reader #Din Djarin x Female Reader #Din Djarin x F!Reader #More reformatting reblogs not new content #May change the banner later too #I'm not as wild about this one #Din Djarin #x reader #Fic #My fic #The Mandalorian #Mandoa

[kashimos-hajime]

no regrets (8/8) | r.b.

summary: For the first time, he thinks of a future he could have, and someone who loves him, and there’s something bright in his heart. Or, Reiner finally understands what peace is.

WARNINGS: MANGA SPOILERS!!! angst, mentions of violence, we get our happy ending :) pairing: reiner braun x fem!reader word count: 6.7k

a/n: welcome to the last chapter!! thank you so much for being on this journey with me. there are a few callbacks to previous chapters so see if you can catch ‘em all heheh 

masterlist

crossposted on ao3 x

Few months ago ymir asked if I could let her write one last letter to krista, and I did let her. I stood over her shoulder the whole time, watching her pen down all this sappy shit and I kept thinking about you the whole time, behind those walls. What you were doing, what you were thinking. Maybe if you thought about me. I dont know.

I’m starting to see the appeal of wrting what youre not strong enough to say to a persons face. I never thought Id find myself on the other end of this stick. for some reason, I thought that I could stop myself, resist the temptation, or maybe that I didnt feel for you as strong as I thought I did once I was away from you. I was wrong.

What do I even say? I mean shit, I can barely see, my limbs are barely in tact, and all of it—shiganshina, it haunts me, even though I cant really remember it that well. Half of it goes black and then I remember hearing your voice, I remember Bertholdt, I remember you screaming.

You couldve walked away. why didnt you walk away? It doesn’t make sens. Why did you think to cut me out? Why did you try to save me? Im trying to make it make sense inmy head. It’s not working.

Fuck I dont know what I was thinking when I asked for a paper and pen. Why am I asking you questions? Its not like ill ever understand. At this point, I think it’s pity thats letting Zeke let me waste ink on trying to write straight. He doesn’t know what im doing, but thats better this way. Better than sleeping—better than eating. I just wanna talk to you and this is as close as I can get. Its my own damn fault, but I dont care. 

I completed my mission. After this, im done. ill give up the rest of my term. I dont want any of that glory anymore. I dont want to be a hero. Im just done.

Fuck, my head hurts so much. I dont really know if what im saying is making sense. Im hoping you never read this.

im sorry. I wish I could explain it to you some day, but chances are, ill be dead soon. Whether for treason or because they need to pass on the Titan, and I wont be able to see you again. Which means youll never know how sorry I am. How much I

Thats okay. I dont think youd believe me now even if I did say anything.

I remember your dream to live by the lake with a bunch of kids. You know I started to wonder if youd mind if they were our kids, not just some orphans who needed a home. I’d imagine one of them with blond hair. Imagine them swimming in the lake.

Never told you that was my dream too. Never knew i could have a dream of my own, something only I wanted and not just something to further marleys damn agenda, til I knew you. Sounds stupid but its true.

I think youd like Marley, if we weren’t sworn enemies. Just want you here with me right now. make me sleep easier knowing you’re there when I wake up. 

Dont want secrets either. Fuck I miss you so bad. I feel s o tired all the time. 

I rember when i first saw you all could think about was how you were the most prettiest girl id ever seen. I don know if you know thats why I tried to distance myself. Knew I couldn’t get distracted from my mison. happened anyway. Wish I could tell you that. 

wish I could tell you I love you. Wish I could see the look on yur face when you try lobster for the first time. Youd love it. Not sweet, but tons of desserts here too.

Shit. And the ring on your finger. ill put a ring on your finger. I promised. i swear ill go home and buy a ring for the moment I see you again. Might not be pretty but will do the best I can.

Olnly wnat only wnat only want to see you again and beg for your forgiveness. Let you know if I had a choice, I wouldnt have done it. Would take it all back, nd stay. i wanted to stay, stay with you and the others. I used to want to spend the rest of my life in those walls, now I think im sick and tired of them dividing people who arent even that differnet.

My eyes are beginning to burn. Worse because the skin is sitll growing back. Fucking hell god I miss you. miss your smile more.

I know i dont deserve your forigvneess forgiveness. I want you to be angry with me. I deserve as much, and I cant ask you to, but 

With love,

Rienr

You fold the letter, eyes closing as your fingers trace where the ink bled, the old tear stains wrinkling the paper beyond measure. Some are older than others, and you trace over his name again, your eyes burning, your throat tight enough to suffocate.

You’re leaning against the wall as everyone disembarks. They had taken Eren off first, Hange and the others getting ready to depart for the city while Connie and Jean lift a covered stretcher too white for the vivacious girl that lays dead beneath it.

They pass you silently, and you catch sight of a certain captain approaching, his pale eyes nearly swallowed by the shadows haunting his face.

“Captain,” you say, straightening. Placing the letter back into the tin, you slide it back into your pocket as he folds a green jacket over his shoulder. You give him a nod.

“You made it out alive,” Levi observes. He stops beside you, eyes more focused on what’s ahead. No doubt he’s not looking forward to having to take Zeke to wherever he needs to go—somewhere far, far away from Eren. You cross your arms. 

“It’s good to see you, too, Levi,” you intone. Sighing, you step in beside him and look out at the Walls you can’t see in the distance, your entire body wrought with a strange fatigue that’s only sewn into muscles by adrenaline leaving the body. “I think I’m going to stay.” He tilts his head to you, eyes flickering to your face, and you mirror the shift, your arms tightening. “I can’t leave this unfinished. Not after Liberio.”

“The farm will have to be abandoned,” he points out. “The kids, too.”

“I’ll make sure I move them where someone can take care of them. Somewhere north, far away from the brothers,” you assure, although still, your heart begins to sink and you close your eyes, exhaling deeply. “I have to hope they understand.”

Levi only nods, and you open your eyes as he wordlessly takes the jacket off his arm and offers it to you. Grasping it wearily, you open your mouth to ask questions but he only sets off, back towards the cabin where Zeke is still being held, and you snap your jaws shut, looking down at the jacket.

When you unfold it, you swallow the hard rock in your throat at the blue and white slipping beween the folds of olive green before there’s a sharp whistle. Looking up, you see the carriages already beginning to load up, and you glance back at the door where the captain has disappeared through before jogging down the ramp.

You slither your arms through the sleeves and shuffle the fabric along your frame as something thumps against your thigh, and you frown, reaching down into your pocket and coming into contact with something smooth and hard.

Withdrawing, your lips part at the green bolo tie gleaming in the lights of the port and you, without another thought, pull it over your head, letting it fall against your breastbone. 

“For your services to the Survey Corps.”

There’s no time to second-guess now. No time to debate.

“Good to have you back,” Hange murmurs as you walk towards the carriage taking Mikasa, Armin, and the others back to the city. You tug the lapels of the jacket tighter around yourself and flash them a weak smile. 

The Wings of Freedom on your arm feel like a brand, and it prickles your skin as you climb in after them.

.

Distantly, he remembers flashes. 

Eren reaching forward for Zeke, the exhaustion ripping him every which way, the sound of ODM gear whizzing in his ears as he tries to make sense of the punctured sensation in his armour.

How he had softened his nape, intending to die then. At least, let his death have some meaning, he had thought. Let him make one last effort to repent for everything he did to Paradis, and to his friends who’d been more family than his own mother.

He slips in an out of consciousness for the next few days. He doesn’t know what is up, what is down, but he does recognize his surroundings blearily, the way his head spinning somehow slowing when he presses his temple to the wooden floor.

How can he almost hear your voice in the echoes of the panels, countered by someone who almost sounds like Annie before he drifts off again.

When Reiner finally regains consciousness again, he wakes to someone crouched down in front of him. Jerking up, he lets out a sound before a palm slaps over his mouth and your face is shoved against his own.

“Shut it,” you whisper fiercely. “It’s just me.”

Your name muffled by your own hand, his eyes begin to burn and you lift your palm away as he sits up and you draw back. You’re dressed in clothes that look like they’ve seen better days but you’re relatively uninjured as you pull back. New lines adorn your face—one of the many prices of their damned war—and you only look exhausted. 

Sitting up, Reiner’s whole body groans as he leans against the wall, but he can’t tear his eyes away from you. Your hands are hovering around his body like you’re scared he’ll collapse and there’s a fracture in your mask.

Something gleams on your finger and his eyes flit to it, his heart lurching when he realizes what it is.

The ring. You’re wearing it. You…

For a moment, a glimmer of their teenage selves shine through and he wants to reach for it—touch it so he can remember what it’s like to be happy. He thinks it’s an awful like now; the swelling of his heart so big he can’t breathe; the way his lungs are static in his chest; how he can’t say anything because there are so many words that want to come out first.

“You’re here. You’re alive,” he finally settles on raspily. Your eyes glint with a youthful pain as you nod.

“So are you.” 

And he doesn’t know who moves first—you or him. Nothing is forgiven as their bodies crash in an embrace that lacks grace, but they cling onto another like the world is ending and they’re the only ones left standing. 

Maybe they are.

He buries his face in your neck, and your arms are so tight around him your fingers dig into his shoulders as your body melts against his and his skeleton sags in his own body.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers against your skin, eyes fluttering shut. “I‘m sorry.” A hand against your neck and an arm around your waist, he wraps his legs around your own and traps you against him. You seem to only sink into him even more.

Is that enough? I don’t want you to hate me.

You suck in a breath, and then it comes out shuddering. “You can spend the rest of what life you have left repenting for making me fall in love with a man who was always supposed to die.”

Softly, in his mind, your voice cools the searing heat of hatred inside him. It’s enough. It has to be.

“I’m sorry,” he says again. It’s like they’re the only words he knows. He can’t remember ever meaning it this much. For him dying, for making you love him, for ever coming to Paradis. For loving you. For loving you. “I’m so sorry.”

“I know. I know.” Your face turns to press against his own. Your lips brush against his jaw and his eyes slide shut, tears rolling down his face. “I read every single one of your letters.” Drawing back, you cup his face in his hands and your fingers smear his tears all over his cheeks as his palm rests against your neck. Thumb stretching up to touch your chin, he feels sobs shuddering in his throat at seeing you again—looking at him almost like you used to. “I can’t begin to understand, but I know you are. And I know you love me.”

Choking, he gasps, “You should hate me.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I should.” You’re crying, too, voice thick, tears stubborn on your cheeks as you give him a watery smile. “I should hate Marley, too. But it’s beautiful there. The water by the sea… I want to be there with you next time. We need to go together, before you leave me alone, okay?”

Reiner doesn’t quite hear you. He hears Marley, and beautiful, and he’s never noticed how beautiful you are when you cry, but right now, it’s the simplest truth he knows. 

“Okay.”

When you tilt his chin up and kiss him softly, something inside him explodes from the gentleness that makes him want to crack in the palm of your hands. It sears him from the inside out, makes him grab onto you like you’ll disappear—this is another dream, isn’t it? 

It has to be. 

You can’t be kissing him again after four years. He doesn’t deserve it. You’re an illusion, something his mind made up to deal with the pain. He’s finally cracked for good, just like Bertholdt said he would, and he’s the devil, not you.

But then you pull away just for a moment to smile, eyes barely open as you look at him with a sad tenderness that wraps him in an invisible embrace, and he is faced with the heart-wrenching reality. 

The sky is falling, you are holding him tightly again, and they’ve lost their years. But you’re here. With him. 

He knows that this isn’t a dream as he feels the coolness of the silver band on your finger and the heaviness in how he knows he hasn’t repented a damn thing. 

Why him?

As you run your hand through his hair, you press their foreheads together.

“And I do want a family with you, by the water if you’d like,” you murmur fleetingly against his mouth and his eyes widen, cheeks burning, entire face crumbling as he turns his face in to your shoulder, crushing you in another brace. Sobbing into your neck, his fingers dig into your shoulders, wrap tight around your waist, squeeze you so close he isn’t sure where you end and he begins and your lips brush the shell of his ear. “Reiner, say it.”

“Please,” he whispers thickly into your skin, and you cradle the back of his head with a hand. He’s nothing more than shambles. “Please, don’t go.”

“I’m not letting you out of my sight again,” you promise. His breath is hot against his own face as you pull his head back and cradle his face again, thumbs brushing away the tears from his red face. “Just a bit more. A bit more and then it’ll be all over, you know?”

And he understands, then, what you want from him. Struggling for breath, for his lungs to stop seizing in his aching chest, he cups your face that turns into his palm on instinct, your face wet with your own tears as, for a moment, they try to pretend this isn’t where they really are.

Like they’re still in that afternoon in Trost, a thousand years ago, with the kids flipping coins into the water fountain and a cream bun between them. Like they’re under the tree, apple juice on your wrist and his lips on yours.

Like it’s those trips to the city, the walks on the Walls. Honey is dripping down your chin and he’s pretending he doesn’t want to kiss you, or there’s grease smeared on his forehead, and you’re reaching up to wipe it off his skin.

Like a thousand moments all at once, and he nods to himself as you brush your hand over his temple. The world outside is startlingly quiet, as if the universe itself stopped everything itself to watch this moment, and Reiner takes a breath that bruises his sternum before he’s holding your left hand where that ring still sits.

And slowly, he pulls it off, whispering as firmly as he can. He’s sure he fails—he’s shaking all over from your presence alone.

“When this is over, I’ll put that ring back on your finger. I promise.”

The smile that splits your face is dazzling. It’s the smile he’s missed since the day he left it.

“We have a lot of things to work out, Reiner Braun.”

And your fingers barely brush his jaw before you’re leaning to press a sweet kiss against his mouth. It’s sugary on his tongue, like honey and apple slices.

.

Your back is warmer when you’re pressed up against Reiner’s. The ship is quiet, and their pinkies are just barely hooked on oen another’s as you stare blankly at the empty space between Connie’s boots. You don’t speak, and Reiner’s gaze is only on you. He can’t look at anything else now that you’re back by his side again.

There’s a cut on your cheek from the fight just half an hour ago, and there’s dried blood along your hands where your knuckles had split open, but everyone seems too exhausted to clean themselves up. 

Reiner himself has a blanket pulled over his shoulders, and he sighs, slouching in his own sack of flesh.

Your head tilts towards him, enough that your temple presses against his cheek. His eyes close and he leans into your touch. Not a word passes by, but their hold on each other’s hands tightens. And Reiner thinks. 

For the first time, he thinks of a future he could have, and someone who loves him, and there’s something bright in his heart. Something that hasn’t burned since he left Marley as a child.

Reiner thinks he doesn’t want to die anymore. He doesn’t want to miss you for another moment.

.

Raising from the steam, you groan, your hands searing from the inside out as you touch your face where you swore every inch of your skin had been stretched, but nothing seems out of sorts as you glance around. Everywhere, all your friends who had turned just as you had are in various states of disoriented. The air is still hissing, crackled with surprised screams and shouts of names as people look for one another across the field. 

It smells like cooked meat and burnt hair, a none-to-pleasant mixture that turns your stomach.

Getting to your feet, you wipe at your face, trying to ignore the weird feeling underneath your nails and the ache seizing your muscles. Trying to ignore the remnants of Eren lingering like a ghost that won’t really leave you alone. You shiver, and a strange cold sweat takes over your body.

He had taken you to the sea, except it wasn’t the shore you were familiar with. There was a cabin nearby, with blonde children running, chasing after one another and a man with golden hair standing on the porch, firewood in his arms as he calls out silently. Or maybe you had been standing too far to hear.

“Eren… where are we?”

“Wherever you think you are,” he had said. “I just brought you where you wanted to be.”

A voice, quiet as a memory, catches your attention. “Here let me help.” A soft wind blows throw the mist, cooling your scorching face as you feel a presence stand behind you.

“Oh, thank you.” You look over your shoulder to see a tall boy, and your heart stops. Mouth dropping open, you stare at his foggy image, but he only smiles fully, a smile so tender it reaches every corner of you as you stumble forward, fingers stretching for him. “Bertholdt!”

His smile grows only that much more, eyes squinting a bit and a flash of teeth before he’s looking at your hand that passes through his chest. All at once, all the hope built up in your chest crumbles, and your hand snaps back, trembling just before him. He lays a hand over your own and your eyes begin to burn, tears slipping down your cheeks.

And then, softly, you barely whisper, “I miss you.”

Bertholdt’s smile merely grows, as if to say everything he couldn’t say before. As if to show he’s at peace now—that your last memory together isn’t every part of him, and your lips press together, trying to stop yourself from shaking.

 Shadows form in the fog, and together, the two look as a freckled boy and another girl steps out of the mist a distance away, beaming like the sun. Connie and Jean stagger to their feet just behind you, and your heart lurches into your throat when you recognize them.

“Marco! Sasha!”

Someone calls your name and you turn around just as arms scoop you up and you let out a surprised noise before settling into Reiner’s arms. Looking over your shoulder to look at Bertholdt, your heart only sinks.

He smiles and Reiner lets out a sharp breath beside you, settling you down. “Bertholdt…” More shapes emerge. A shorter boy accompanied by another taller one, both alike in their features. You recognize one as the Jaw Titan holder before Falco, but the other—

“Marcel!” Reiner chokes out the name, hand stretching out to the fog, but the boy merely tilts his head and waves.

Closing your eyes, hot tears streak over your cooling flesh as you fling your arms around Reiner again and press your face into his neck. He cradles the back of your head, and he feels… somehow weaker, but still, there is that impassable strength in his core that wraps around you as he watches over your shoulder, still clinging on despite your clothes hot enough to burn.

I’m alive, I’m alive, I’m alive, I’m alive. It’s the only thought in your head. Your last clear memory had truly been the others taking flight, and the pain that had ripped apart your body before sewing it back together again in unjust proportions. Your limbs had been too big, your blood racing too warmly through your head as your legs pumped but your brain screamed to stop. 

Your fingers had sank into Reiner’s legs to pull him down and you had watched—watched Jean take a bite out of him—

You shiver and Reiner’s arms tighten around you instinctively, constricting enough to let you know that his attention isn’t on you quite yet.

Boots shifting on the ground tentatively, your knees feel gummy as you draw back long enough to look at him. He still looks over your shoulder, and you follow his gaze to watch the mist retreat. Bertholdt and the other two boys fall into a pool of fog, and your lips part in a farewell, but it’s already too late.

He’s gone.

A wind sweeps through the battlefield, tickling your sweating neck and cooling your boiling blood.

“Hey,” a soft voice croaks.

Their eyes meet in tandem. He regards you softly, like you are the reason the sun rises and the stars hang at the sky. Overwhelmed, you can only cup the back of his neck and pull him into a deep kiss. Your other hand along his jaw, it takes all you can not to pull him into a bone-crushing embrace that’ll send them both to the ground.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” you whisper hushedly against his mouth, throat swelling as he lets out a soft noise of surprise as you pull him into another tight hug. You don’t care that you’re crushing him, just that his heart is pounding against your own chest. “I couldn’t stop myself. I’m so sorry.” 

His eyes widening, he wraps his hands around your wrists and pulling you back just enough to kiss your fingers that crumple against his mouth. Clasping one of his hands in both of your own, you close your eyes and he uses his free fingers to brush the tears off your cheek before reaching into some dented tin you don’t recognize.

Eyebrows furrowing, you feel the heat leave your entire body, sapping your energy too, and your eyes snap to Reiner who steps back, cracking it open and presenting it to you. 

“You’re not the one who has to be sorry. I don’t think I’m the Armoured Titan anymore,” he whispers. “I don’t know if I get the rest of my life back, but either way, I want to spend the rest of it repenting to you in any way I can, if you’ll allow me to.” A weak smile. “Truth.”

Your throat closes up, and you stare down at the ring so protected, gleaming despite the destruction around them. It looks almost out of place amongst the grime smearing your skin, the sweat drenching their skin, the smell of blood and metal clinging to their clothes, but Reiner only watches you with a tenderness you can barely meet. It’s so overtly overflowing with devotion that your heart is resting on your tongue, seizing control of everything. 

You barely nod, chewing on your lip, trying not to cry even harder as his eyebrows rise in relief and he lets out a long sigh.

He lifts the ring out of the tin, snapping it closed before sliding the band back home onto your finger and all at once, everything floods you. The exhaustion, the pain, the hunger, thirst, grief wrapping around your bones and chaining you to the ground.

It’s over.

The minute he put the ring on your finger, it would mean it was over. No more blood, no more fighting.

Just like he promised.

You barely croak out his name before you fall to your knees. You trust him to catch you, and he does.

[THREE YEARS LATER]

Just after the Rumbling had stopped, you had gone back to Paradis alone and came back with three children to a man who was still uncertain in a world that was changing. 

Since then, you’ve learned so much about the world, about yourself, about Reiner. 

How he’s seized by night terrors even now, just like you, and how one thing that soothes it is going out for a walk while the sun still simmers below the horizon, the sky a dark navy blue spliced with orange rays. The intricate details like him making a point to tie his own tie because his father never taught him how or the way he has to chug his coffee so he has enough energy to get through the day.

And some days are horrible, haunting, but now, it is far outweighed by the good. He teaches Xav how to dress smart, takes the girls out shopping. Sometimes, he’s spotted around Liberio with a flame-haired boy riding his shoulders, you trailing behind hiding a smile behind some ice-cream.

Different nations, foods, cultures surround you now—citizens of countries coming to settle down roots, spread cuisine to Marley. The idea before, of humans so different than you but still similar at the root of it all, existing, still blows your mind. The technologies that you had never seen before, languages you’d never heard, sights you’d never seen, had all swarmed you as you stepped into a new world with him.

But there is always one thing you’ll come back to.

Leaning against the railing in the port city Reiner told you was the harbour he had left twelve years ago, and returned to seven years ago, you watch the clouds travel in slow drags across the pale blue canvas hung high above your head. The water spans for as far as you can see, glimmering under the sun and gorgeous enough to take your breath away. You pull at your coat across your chest absently, ignoring the tender growl of your stomach. 

Breathing in the salty wind, you feel your chest expand at the litle fishing boats a little ways out.

Reiner was right. You don’t get sick of the sea. You never will—not of this much water. You still remember the first time you had swam in it, the salt-water making your hair crisp, the cold sweat forming on your your sun-warmed skin.

You feel a hand on your shoulder. Looking up, you spot blonde hair and warm eyes and smile. Your heart flutters a bit. You shift on your feet.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” Reiner leans down beside you, and you clasp your hands, letting the sea wind curl against your neck. Reaching to slip his hand in between yours, he sighs and you lean against his shoulder, glancing at their pile of interlaced fingers. “Are you okay?”

“Of course,” you whisper, although even still, you can feel a numbing at your fingertips. You remember what it was like to be a Titan, even now. The sensations haunt you—flashes of your own mutated body, the grotesque meat of your hands sinking into the ankles of the man beside you, the bloodcurdling roar spilling out of your throat.

Glancing at their fingers, you watch the flashes of silver of the rings play in the sunlight, your band now having a matching counterpart on his own hand. You grasp his hands tightly, bringing them up to your lips and his own grip tightens when you dust a kiss gently along his scarred knuckles.

“No,” you finally say at length. “I’m not okay. Going back to Paradis makes me nervous as hell, but we’ll manage.” He nods slowly, and you let go of his hands to wrap your arms around his neck. His own encircle your waist, pulling you flush against him and your eyes close at the familiar warmth—a warmth you’ve woken up next to most days for the past three years. 

“Have you eaten yet?” he murmurs, and your fingers play with the soft edges teasing at your pads as his nose presses against your cheek. Your eyes flutter at the soft heat emanating from his skin, and you shake your head, melting against him. With one arm still around you, he slants his body away from just enough to pull a bag out of his pocket and it crinkles as he hands it to you. Taking it, you frown and look inside.

A cream bun. You can’t help the crumbling in your expression and Reiner holds your face in his hands carefully, kissing the corner of your mouth.

“Let’s stay positive,” he whispers. “We don’t know the situation until we get there and Historia briefs us.”

“I know,” you whisper and his entire expression eases at your words. His eyes gaze at you as if you’re the sole centre of his universe, and he cups your jaw more insistently, pulling you in for a gentle kiss, one you ease into, your eyes fluttering shut as his tongue traces the seam of your mouth. Laughing, you feel his little nose scrunch and your heart bounds up into your throat as he pulls back only to kiss you again, softer this time.

“Get a room!” A sharp female voice ruins their moment and you pull back just enough to see a red-headed boy running towards them and Reiner crouches down just in time to scoop Xavier up.

“When are you getting married?” he demands. “I was promised cake when you guys got married.”

“I dunno. When you move out of the house I guess,” you tease and Xavier pouts, rubbing at the side of his nose with the heel of his palm.

“Besides, you got cake for your seventh birthday, buddy,” Reiner groans as the boy twists in his arms. “You’re getting heavy. What are you feeding him?” he adds, smiling roguishly at you and you roll your eyes as Alina and Anya approach, sun hats protecting them from the glaring sun. Alina, grocery bags in hand, waves. Anya, who’d been the one to shout, tucks her coin purse back into her bag before flashing you a great big smile.

Only fifteen and seventeen. You can barely recall what it’s like being that young anymore, but you’re grateful they didn’t spend it the way you did. They get to know beauty, and no limits at all. The former comes naturally, the latter is partially because Reiner spoils them rotten.

Alina picks a flower with velvety purple petals from a bouquet she cradles in her arm, extending it to you.

“For good luck,” she says. “And protection.” Your heart melts at her words and you pause for a moment, looking from the gorgeous bloom to Reiner, occupied with the boy in his arms making silly faces at him. Then, without another moment, you sneak the flower behind his ear and he reaches up immediately to hold it against his head, turning to you in surprise. 

“To protect the both of us,” you explain.

“Thank you. I’ll be extra careful now.” He looks at the girls, setting his free hand on Alina’s head heavily and she flushes, smiling grandly. “You three behave while we’re gone, alright?”

You nod. “Listen to Levi.” 

“And listen to your sister,” Reiner adds to Alina and Xavier. The former rolls her eyes, the latter sticks out his tongue. “I’ll miss you.”

This is their home—their family that tumbles together into a huge hug, and you can’t help but stand back, watching how they all seem to merge into one unit, unaware of where one part of their reach ends and another begins.

As Reiner pulls you into the hug, your heart soars through your body, effortlessly pounding in your throat and in your fingers and everywhere at once. Liquid heat pools everywhere as Xavier screws up his face when you kiss his cheek, the same way Reiner does after he’s eaten something sour.

And maybe it’s a bit different, or a bit broken, the shards of their bloody history still poking at their heels whenever they think you’ve forgotten them, and it’s most definitely not perfect, but you would rather have it like this then anything else.

“Hey, guys!” Breaking apart, the family look over to see Armin, Annie, and Pieck walking over. Gabi and Falco meander a little bit behind, pushing Levi in his wheelchair, and Jean and Connie are running not far behind them, shouting at one another. You stifle a laugh and Xavier shimmies out of Reiner’s hold to run towards them. The girls follow after him, trying to hold back their runs but the closer they get, you can tell the more frantic they are to say goodbye.

So this is what they’ve made a peace. Something, you hope, is good.

Annie bypasses them quickly, making her way over to you and you survey her face as Reiner squeezes your shoulder, walking over to their friends. Her blue eyes are fixed on your face, and you feel your lips curving into a smile as she shoves her hands in her pockets. Her hair is swaying in the wind, gleaming flaxen, and you remind yourself, not for the first time, that Armin and Annie’s kids, if they ever decide they want them, will be gorgeous.

Hope for the future, and all that.

She stops in front of you, tucking a strand behind her ear.

“So,” she says at length, “we’re going back to Paradis. I’m surprised you decided to come with us. You don’t owe any of us anything.”

“I know. But… you’re my best friend. You do the talking, I fly the getaway plane, right?”

“Yeah. There used to be a time when it probably would’ve been the opposite.”

You nod, and they stand in silence for a moment, watching each other. Two women who should not have been friends, but were against all odds. You don’t think you would be here today if it weren’t for Annie.

Your heart lurches and you take a step forward just as she does, her mouth open to say something. You throw your arms around her and she lets out a noise in surprise as you close your eyes. Arms coming underneath yours, her hands dig into your shoulders and you smile against soft hair as she sighs, easing into your hug.

“Finally working together on an actual assignment,” you mumble and her head tilts as her small frame shifts, a hand patting you on the back as a sign for you to back up. “Just like we always said we would.” 

Bluntly: “Just don’t do anything stupid.”

“You, too.” Pulling back, the two look at one another for another soft moment before you remember the bag in your hand and you shift the bun up in the bag, extending it towards her. “Want some?” Her eyebrows rise in faint delight, before she’s reaching over, pinching and tearing a piece off. 

You grin and do the same and you gesture for her to come stand by the rails with you, stuffing the bag into your coat pocket. Leaning against the warm metal again, you hear a seagull call. The plane you’ll be flying to Paradis floats on the water, the technicians giving it the final check before you take off.

If anything goes wrong while you help prepare and oversee accommodations for the rest of the ambassador group, you’ll remember to fire the black signal flare, but you trust Historia. You trust your friends.

You glance over at them, all laughing, and you notice that the flower has gone from Reiner to Pieck, who’s taking it out of her dark hair to tuck it into Jean’s, and his cheeks redden as he brushes it more securely behind his ear.

Annie catches your attention again, pointing out idly that they’ll have to separate soon when they finish with the plane, and you tell her to just wait a couple minutes more as Reiner catches your gaze. Setting Xav, who has somehow wormed his way back into his arms, down, he walks back over to you, and his hand trails purposefully over your back before resting at the nape of your neck, a reassuring weight on your body.

“You guys okay?”

“We’re fine,” Annie replies. “You have a clingy boyfriend,” she tells you. 

“I think it’s charming.”

She rolls her eyes. Reiner smiles, and you pat the railing beside you—silent invitation. He leans in on your other side, clasping his hands and watching the fishermen pull themselves to shore, singing a tune to each other—one familiar to all three of them and one that you wish you could get out of your head. 

“Soon may the Wellerman come…”

A faint breeze tickling at your fingertips as a sharp call for embarkment splits the harbour, you simply sigh and look over at Reiner. “I just want these last few moments to last.” His eyes meet yours, and he leans forward to press a kiss between your eyes. Annie lets out a soft noise of disgust and you bump your hip against her as Reiner pulls back.

Closing your eyes and lifting your head to the wind, you can almost imagine the one person missing standing on the other side of Annie, dark hair like spun, stained bronze and eyes like warm chocolate. He’d smile and tell them not to worry in that sincere way of his that makes you believe every word he says—as long as they were careful, they wouldn’t walk into any traps.

Your chest aches, and your lips tug into a heart-wrenching smile as you begin to sing along. Reiner slips a hand in between yours, pressing his temple against your head and you loop your other arm through Annie’s.

She rests her head on your shoulder, listening to your voice, eyes on the sailors bringing in their haul below them. Reiner hums the shanty softly, distractedly, eyes cast across the sea.

You tilt your head up to the sky, at the stars you cannot see but will join one day, and smile.

#fic: homebound #reiner braun #reiner braun x reader #reiner braun x you #reiner braun imagine #reiner braun fic #reiner x reader #reiner x you #aot #aot x reader #aot x you #attack on titan #attack on titan x reader #attack on titan x you #attack on titan fanfiction #snk #snk x reader #snk x you #shingeki no kyojin x reader #my writing

[beskarberry]

Krayt’s Teeth

Bargaining with Beskar, Chapter 3 (The Mandalorian x f!reader)

The sound of crashing and shouting was hot on your tail, the other hunters had followed you and were gaining fast. You saw a light rapidly approaching ahead of you, and the two of you burst out into the brilliant daylight to the worst possible place: a dead fucking end.

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 6.7k

Content warnings: Canon typical violence, killing in self defense, headcanon angst, FLUFF, sensory deprivation, body worship, oral sex (f receiving).

A/N: These are my headcanons regarding Mandalorian culture in terms of sex, I didn’t find much lore on it so whether it’s accurate or not idk but I like them and that’s all that matters! Enjoy~

<-Previous Next->

You could have slept forever, even on that horrible little cot you were so comfortable that you could have been out for days, but the only one on it was you. You did’t know when Mando got up from the tiny space you both shared through the night, or how he managed to get out from your tangled bodies without waking you up. You opened your eyes to tiny green baby hands tugging at your fingers. 

“Hey booger, is it time for breakfast? Where’s your papa?” You started to sit up, but the horrible sticky mess underneath you made you reluctant to move, a mix of passion and pain from the day before. “Yikes. I’m gonna run all his water out if I have to keep using the fresher. Come on, let’s get scrubbed up.” The baby gibbered excitedly at you, though you weren’t sure how much of what you said he actually understood. You scooped him into your arms without looking back at the sad little cot and all its stains. “You’re water proof, right?”

The ship’s engines were rumbling away, so you guessed tin man was up in the cockpit flying you towards your next bounty. Or Nevarro. You would have to find Mr. Mystery later, the grossness that was you had to be dealt with. Between you and the child your shower took forever, the two of you getting water and soap bubbles from top to bottom. You didn’t care. You had been on Tatooine for months without having a real shower, being consigned to the sonic freshers that vibrated the sand off of the moisture farmer’s bodies; and this was the second real shower you’d gotten to have in twice as many days. You spent a good deal of time trying to get your chatty friend to hold still long enough to be dried off, the little fart squealing with joy every time you went for him with the towel.

An ordeal later you were both fresh and presentable, but your host was still nowhere to be seen, though the ugly sheets had thankfully disappeared from view. The ship was quiet now, without the engine running you knew you had to be back on the ground, and you could hear a distinct hum of activity coming through the walls. Space port? He flew us into town? The thought was replaced immediately with a rich, savory smell coming through the air vents: FOOD! Your gut grumbled loud enough to resonate through the cabin and earn you a confused look from the baby. When was the last time you really ate? You’d been living on ration packs for the last couple of days. That was going to change right now.

“Ya hungry buddy? Me too! Maybe that’s where your dad is, hmm?” Grabbing your old backpack and hooking the baby under your arm you started punching buttons on the wall to get the door open, sending walls sliding and cabinets opening before you got one of the access ramps open. Bright double sunlight nearly blinded you, and on reflex you covered the baby’s giant googly eyes. It took a moment for your own to adjust to the radiant light of the Tatooine morning, and the smell of cooking food hit you like a ton of bricks, making your mouth water. As your eyes adjusted you were able to take in your surroundings: though it was bright outside you were parked low inside a maintenance bay, the walls of which soared high above you; littered with engine parts and humming with droid activity. Sound was the last input your hungry brain could process, but when it did you didn’t like what you heard. The sounds of an argument echoed around the hangar, high and shrill.

“I already told you, you can’t park here! You’re bad for business!”

“I just need to park here long enough to get supplies.”

“Well you’re gonna have to pay up, Mando! I’m not running a charity here! You got credits for supplies you got credits for parking! Up front this time!”

Oh no.

Of all the mechanics and docking hangars in Mos Eisley he had to pick this one. The fireball of a woman barely came up to your partner’s chest, but she made up for it with unbridled fury; and the giant cooked animal leg she was swinging around like a club between bites made her look even more formidable. She noticed you coming down the ramp and stopped grilling your comrade long enough to glare daggers through your skull.

“Oh NO! No nope nuh uh! You can turn right back around and get back on that ship, missy! I knew it! I knew you were bad for business, Mando! What’re you doing running around with her? I hope she’s your bounty because she’s your problem!”

“Peli.” Your words were cold as ice, but the squirming baby in your arms took all the malice out of your stance. He wiggled until you set him down, and he ran towards the mechanic with open arms.

“Baby! You can stay but your dad’s gotta take the mean lady somewhere else! She cheats at sabacc!”

“You lost fair and square, Peli! Try playing a better hand next time!”

“Ladies please!”  Mando cut through your bickering, holding his arms up between the two of you like he was trying to corner a pair of wild blurgs. “If I let the child stay with you for the day, will you let me park the Razor Crest here? Just for a couple hours?”

Peli bounced the child on her hip, offering him a bite of her breakfast. The baby squealed happily while he sank his little teeth into the mighty snack, though the size of it comically dwarfed his itty bitty hands. “I’ll tell you what, you let me keep him and then maybe I’ll let you park here in a week.” Mando cocked his helmet at her with disdain and she huffed loudly, “Well if you put it that way, I guess you can park here, but you gotta put five hundred credits down, and not a cent less!”

Mando reeled, stabbing his hands to his hips with indignation. “Five hund- absolutely not! What am I going to buy our-” You interrupted his tirade with a hand on his shoulder, waving a slew of credits in front of his eyes. Peli snatched them out of your hand, fanning them out like cards to count them.

“Who’d you cheat these outta?”

“Don’t worry about it.” You leaned casually against your metal man, eyeing Peli with a smug look on your face. “Let’s go, Mando. Bye baby green bean, have fun with Auntie Cheats-at-Sabacc!” You spun him around by the hand and dragged him towards the exit, ignoring the insults being slung at your back. “We are getting breakfast and that’s final!”

The Mandalorian allowed you to pull him along a few feet before grinding his heels into the sand, shaking his head. “You have to stay here.”

Now it was your turn for sassy head tilts. “I just paid for your parking, buckethead, that makes me in charge and I’m hungry! I’ll buy you breakfast too if you want.” He didn’t budge, fixing you with that intense stare of his and grabbing you by the shoulders.

“You are still being hunted. Mos Eisley isn’t safe for you.”

Ah.

You knew you could look after yourself, and he himself had compared you to a ferocious rancor just yesterday. You groaned loudly, “Shit balls of hell. But dad, I’m huuunngry!” The man bristled at your paternal harassment, sighing heavily and letting his helmeted head fall to the side like the world was ending. He glanced around the hangar exit, his shiny beskar snapping to each object of interest until he located a protocol droid corpse that was missing everything from the waist down. He strode over to it and held it down with one boot, yanking it by the head until it popped off. He began prying the droid’s vocorder apart at the mouth, pulling it wide until the droids face plate broke off with a snap! Tossing the rest of the logic processing unit to the ground, he held the face plate up to the light, inspecting the clarity of its photo receptor casings. He bent back down to the junk pile and fished out a stray wire to thread through the ruined audio processors, then tossed the finished creation to you.

“Put that on.”

You turned the makeshift mask over in your hands to check for sharp edges before you pressed it to your face. The bug eyes on the front were dirty, but you could see well enough. Before you could clean them more thoroughly you felt the weight of fabric on your head, his cloak now worn as your own. The thought of how you must look made you giggle. “You make me take my clothes off, now you want me to put clothes on. It never ends with you, Mando. Next you’ll be forging me beskar. Now can we eat something, please?” Without a word the armored man turned on his heel and walked out the hangar exit. I’ll take that as a yes.

Mos Eisley buzzed with life, people and animals and things you couldn’t explain made their way up and down the bustling streets. The smell of food led you to a vendor selling something that could have been a root vegetable, covered in herbs and spices and grilled to perfection. You couldn't wait, all thoughts of self-preservation went out the window as you hauled ass to the stand, waving two fingers in the air. When you had both of your prizes in hand you stuffed the savory veggie under your mask, sighing contentedly at the taste of real honest-to-Maker food. “Hey tin man, I hope you like... whatever this-” You turned to offer your partner something to eat, but he had disappeared from the crowd. “Alright... more for me.”

Taking a newspaper from the vendor you wrapped the extra snack up tight and threw it in your pack for later, continuing to chow down on your own. You would find Mando eventually, and you had credits to spend. You had held onto your hush-money for months to avoid suspicion, but now it was burning a hole in your pocket. Wandering the streets of Mos Eisley from merchant to merchant you began accumulating a small hoard of supplies, ranging from bacta to hand tools, and food. Whatever you could get your hands on that would survive hyperspace when you inevitably left this fucking dirtball for good; though you still weren’t convinced that you wouldn’t be making that flight in carbonite. You picked out new clothes and underwear, a much-needed bedroll, and some soft bantha-wool blankets. Something further down the marketplace caught your eye, and you made your way to the fancier items that glittered in the double daylight. You didn’t wear jewelry yourself, a poor choice of attire for a hunter, but the way the trinkets caught the light still made you wistful. Your hidden eyes danced over the glittering treasures; jewels and geodes that had been found deep in the sands and polished to a radiant shine.

You spotted something opalescent at the end of one table and found a pair of krayt teeth, each about the size of your palm. They had been sanded to a smooth, flat finish and carved with intricate desert patterns. The backs of them had tiny fittings that could be sewn on as buttons, or pulled off to reveal magnets. Something about their shape seemed familiar, though you couldn’t imagine why in that moment. You purchased the unique pieces anyway, something to remind you that even the harshest of places could hold hidden beauty. After a while you had so much junk piled in your arms that you could barely see over it, and tin man was nowhere to be found. You spotted a courier droid and paid for it to deliver your treasures back to Hanger 3-5, though you kept the pricey teeth in your pockets. With your arms free you started looking for your missing comrade.

The streets were busy with people, you would have to get somewhere out of the way in order to scan the crowds. Your eyes went from shimmer to shimmer, looking for his reflective chrome dome. “Big jerk,” you mused to yourself “‘Mos Eisley’s not saaafe...’ If he’s so worried then where the hell is he? Bah!” The scratched-up photoreceptor casings of your mask made it a challenge to see through the crowd, and you took a moment to adjust the iris apertures so you wouldn’t have to keep squinting into the double sunshine when you felt a hand on your back. Finally. “Mando, where have you-”

“Mando? Whos’sis man-do? Nah sssweetheart, I think you got me confused wi’ sssomeone elssse.” The slithering voice in your ear made your blood run cold. Not Mando! You rocketed your elbow backwards, connecting with the gut of the stranger on your back with an -oof! The hand let go long enough for you to make a run for it, and you tore off down the streets of the busy spaceport, smashing into bystanders in your wake. You cast a quick look behind you to see a large reptilian body flying after you, brownish scales catching the reflection of the noonday suns. Though you had your blaster, the risk of hitting a civilian was too great, so running would have to do. You were thankful for the courier droid that had freed your hands just minutes before as you barreled down the busy streets.

Market stalls flew past you, your boots kicking up sand and dust. The mask on your face, as dirty as it was, kept the debris from your eyes as you raced through the sunburnt city. You had to lose this fucker and fast. You turned down an alley, left, right, another right, leaping over supply crates and low fences like a lothcat. You turned to see if you had lost your chaser, breath heaving and heart pounding. Behind you was clear, but you took your eyes off your path for just a second too long, and were taken by surprise when a heavy weight fell on you from above.

The Trandoshan had gone over the low sandstone roofs, chasing you easily through the alleyways of Mos Eisley while you were none the wiser. He pinned you under him quickly, ripping your blaster off your hip and pointing your own barrel in your face. “Tha’ss enough, princesss! Nice n’ quietlike now. You gonna make me a pretty penny you are.” The lizard’s words dripped with metaphorical venom, though you were sure by the look of those fangs that real venom was probably right behind. “Ahm gonna cart yer arse right back to th’ Guild’n I’ll become th’ most famous hunter in th’ galax -urk!”  With a sickening gag the hunter above you grew a shiny new fang in the back of his throat before falling down dead on top of you, a vibroblade protruding from back of his skull.

“Took you long enough!” You hollered at your chrome companion, who was stepping forward to kick the carcass off of you. “Where the fuck have you been? Getting your rifle polished?” He pulled you to your feet, handing you your blaster while readjusting the mask on your face. You swatted at his fussing hands, but when you looked at him you were shocked to see not one but three blinking bounty fobs dangling from his belt. On the ground by the dead lizard was a fourth, flashing rapidly in the sand.

“I told you you weren’t safe! We need to leave right now.”  You were barely able to grab the remaining bounty fob while you were being tugged away by your allied hunter. He had a death grip on your hand, pulling you along behind him towards what you hoped was the docking hangar. You would have to cross the main street to get there, and as the pair of you plowed across the dusty, busy road there came shouts from either side. More hunters, fucking Guild! You didn’t have a single second to assess them before you were lead through an alley on the other side of the street. These were darker than the ones you had run through on the west side of town, and shady bodies moved quickly out of the way of your living locomotive.

At the end of a narrow alley you both burst through a door leading into an abandoned building. The darkness was almost worse than the blinding sunlight, you would need time for your eyes to adjust but the Mandalorian had enough sensory detection equipment that he ghosted through the ruinous building with ease; never once letting go of your hand as you tripped and stumbled through the dark. The sound of crashing and shouting was hot on your tail, the other hunters had followed you and were gaining fast. You saw a light rapidly approaching ahead, and the two of you burst out into the brilliant daylight to the worst possible place: a dead fucking end.

“There! Get down!” Mando pointed at a pile of rubble, probably big enough to hide behind, but that’s not how you handled business.

“Fuck you! I’m not going down without a fight!” You pulled your blaster out and aimed at the incoming assailants. He growled at you and stepped closer, putting his body in between you and the door. The reptilian hunters burst from the darkness of the warehouse, firing rapid shots of blaster charges that bounced off of Mando’s beskar. You fired over his protective arm, taking out the first one and tripping up the second, who fell over his cohorts limp body. Mando took shot after shot to the chest, reeling with each impact. His other arm cocked back and shot out, sending a wall of fire into the last of the Guild’s hired guns.

Both of you were panting, shaking and sweating from flying through Mos Eisley, but the sound of blaster fire would draw attention and you knew there was no time to waste. You stepped over the incinerated corpse, making sure the fob it carried was melted, the second body still squirmed in the dirt, and you weren’t going to let it get a second chance, firing your blaster through it’s scaly skull. You picked the remaining two fobs and stuffed them in your pockets, making a run for it back through the building with Mando right behind, the blaze of his flamethrower lighting your way.

You took a different door out of the building and were relieved to see the words ‘HANGAR 3-5′ painted in bright blue Basic straight ahead. You skittered through the entrance, rounding the corner and dropping down behind the edges of the hangar doorway. Mando did the same on the other side, both of you pointing your blasters back towards Mos Eisley’s dark heart. Bootsteps behind you made you snap around, and you nearly shot your mechanically inclined host.

“You kids have fun out there?” Peli stood over where you were hunched, and you lowered your blaster to the ground. At her feet your little buddy was holding onto her pant leg, making big puppy dog eyes at you. You looked over to Mando to make sure there weren’t any more coming, but he still held his blaster out ahead. After a few tense seconds he lowered it down until it was back in its’ holster, then pulled himself to his feet.

“We can’t stay any longer, we’re putting you in danger. Time to go, kiddo.” His charred beskar still shimmered when he bent down to pick up his adopted son, who chirped with delight. “Thank you for watching him.”

“He can stay any time! Oh and thanks for all the snacks you made that droid bring me!” Peli called after the three of you as your party quickly boarded the Razor, making you turn around and stick your tongue out at her. She happily flipped you off and started closing the ground entrance to the bay, letting you board the ship uninterrupted. Fortunately, the courier droid’s delivery had made it to the ship, though you couldn't help but notice a few of your most carefully picked snacks had been taken as collateral. Fucking Peli. As much as she infuriated you, there wasn’t another person on all of Tatooine that you would rather play sabacc with.

The old rust bucket rumbled to life, taking off into the midafternoon sky and pointed towards the stars. Finally! Bye motherfucker. The hazy atmosphere of the outer rim planet fell away below you until the light of the bright yellow world illuminated the Crest’s stern. The pre-Imperial scrapheap started howling with noise, and you were almost thrown to the deck when it blasted into the safety of hyper space.

Your heart was still racing and you struggled to catch your breath. Once you had yourself in order you started busying yourself with putting the supplies away, filling the food larder to capacity. The child was contentedly telling you about his day with his auntie in his cute baby gibberish, and you picked him up off the ground to give him a much needed hug, pushing your stolen identity onto the top of your head to give him kisses. You almost wanted to ignore the sound of heavy armored boots hitting the floor panel under the ladder, their wearer opting to jump down from the cockpit rather than climb. You could feel the fury coming off of him as he stalked over to where you were sorting your treasures.

“You could have been hurt! I knew it was a bad idea to let you go wandering around, even with your face covered. What if they’d caught you? I picked three of them off before you even saw one!”

“I had it under control, Mando! I’m not some princess that needs you coming to her rescue at every sign of a struggle. And you don’t get to let me do anything, you don’t own me!” The man under your scrutiny paced the cabin on stiff legs with his hands on his hips, helmet snapping with rage.

“I know you can handle yourself, but I need to protect you.” He said with a huff, “And that lizard was... he had you pinned down, had his filthy, scaly claws on you... Nobody should touch you like that! What if.. what if he... I- I- didn’t like that he was...” Listening to the sound of the gears jamming in his head made you realize the ridiculous thing he was trying to say.

“Are you.. Mando are you jealous?”

“No! I- I’m.. Cyar’ika I... ”

Oh no, you don’t get to be cute right now. “I don’t know what that means, Mando! What is that, some kind of sexy little pet name you use on all the girls you take underneath of you?”

“NO! I didn’t- I would nev- I’ve never had... There’s never been- no!” Oh how you wished you could see his face, watching him flail trying to defend himself from your accusation, he was probably white as a sheet under all that armor.

“Never what, Mandalorian?”

“I’ve never had anyone in this ship before!” The Mandalorian’s confession lost steam halfway through as embarrassment and fear crept into his throat, threatening to choke him with his own secrets.

“Wait.. wait wait. Never? You’ve never had anyone in this ship or...” You started approaching him, analyzing his visor for hints of meaning. “Or you’ve never had anyone at all?” The Mandalorian stopped his pacing, but his shoulders looked like they were carrying the weight of the galaxy. His silence told you everything, and the last piece of his puzzle fell into place. “Mando...was I your first?”

“Y-yes.” His visor tilted up to you, hands fidgeting at his sides. His voice was faint and sheepish, a stark contrast to the thunderstorm you were arguing with a moment ago.  Your eyes were full of questions, all racing through your mind so quickly none of them made it to your mouth. The metal man answered them all for you in one singular motion, raising his fist to knock a couple times against his beskar helmet. His creed.

“So, what, you guys aren’t allowed to have sex?”

He sighed his heavy, trademarked sigh and plopped down on the nearest supply crate with a defeated thud, cradling his head in his hands. “No it’s not that. Not... not exactly. In Mando’a the word we use is me'dinuir. It means ‘to give’, specifically to give yourself to another. And... when you give yourself away to someone-“ He turned the black gloss of his single eye up to you, “-you belong to them. That is The Way.”

The weight of his words made your blood cold. He was jealous, but not just because that other hunter had put his scaly hands on you. Everything about his attitude around you suddenly made sense, the way he had looked at you when you were presenting yourself to him that first day, why he never threw you in carbonite when he probably should have, and how he had stayed with you through the night after you nearly died hunting his bounty. His mysterious way of life decreed that giving his body to you meant that he had also given you his soul, and that made you just as important to protect as his foundling.

Mando reached out to pat the fuzzy green head of the baby you were still holding, who gibbered sleepily up at his armor plated papa. “I’m sorry to put that on you, and I’m sorry for how I acted. You’re not my bounty anymore, and I shouldn’t try to control you. I understand if you don’t want to continue with me to the next bounty. You can take whatever you want from the armory when we land next. I’m.. I’m so sorry.” The monolithic man looked so tiny now, sitting on the edge of the crate with his shoulders hunched. He reached his arms out to take his infant son from you, hugging him to his blast-burnt chest and smoothing his massive ears. "I didn’t get to thank you for washing him earlier, he smells really good.”

You desperately needed to know more, though the sight of him fawning over his sleepy son made your heart swell. “I kinda got the feeling that you were rusty when we met, but that was actually your first time? And what does that mean ‘you belong to them’? How can you belong to me? I don’t even know your name.”

"It means that I’m now sworn to protect the one that carries my soul. I’m not asking you to do the same, you’re not Mandalorian.”

His words made you feel sick, ashamed that you had taken something so sacred from him without a second thought, but how could you have known? He could have stopped at any time, you were the one in cuffs that day, not him. No, out of trillions and trillions of sentient beings in the galaxy he chose to give himself to you, knowing full well what his heritage decreed. Why you? Arms crossed, you dug deeper. “You’ve never seen another naked body than your own?”

He shook his head. “Just... holo-vids...”

You were going to have to ask him about those later. “Nothing? You’ve at least kissed someone before though, right?”

“Kissed?”

Maker fucking help you. “Yeah you know, kissing? The thing you do with your... oh, right." You reached up and tapped him twice on the beskar. “You need your face to do it.”

He cocked his helmet at you. “Can you show me?”

The innocence of his question made you melt. Fuck you, tin can, you’re not supposed to be cute when you’re in trouble. You reached your hand out, demanding he give you his, and shyly he obeyed. You pulled his hand to your lips, unsure of how much he could actually feel through his thick leather gloves. You pressed his hand to your lips and watched his whole body snap straight. “Kiss, like that.”

He was staring at his hand like he’d never seen it before, and after a moment he pulled your locked fingers to his head, tapping his forehead with the back of your hand. “Kov’nynir, But we do it with our helmets.”  At this rate you’ll be speaking Mando’a in no time. He still held your hand gently, running his thumb over your fingers. “I think I like your way better. Could... Could you do that again?”

So polite, maybe having him stuck with you wouldn’t be so bad. You pulled his hand back to you, giving him another soft kiss on the side of his thumb, and you heard the sound of his breath catching in his modulator. Your lips pressed to each of his knuckles, and then you turned his wrist to kiss his palm. “How’s that?”

“That’s amazing.”

“You like that? Watch this.” Addressing the bantha in the room would have to wait. You tugged his glove off, revealing the warm bronze skin underneath and kissed him again. The hitched breaths coming out of his modulator were honey to your ears, and you turned his wrist over to kiss his bare palm again, hunting for more sweet sounds. His body was so stiff, so tightly wound you thought he might snap. “Are you ok? Do I need to stop?”

“I- I- want to... Can... Can I try?” You nodded, your heart jumping to your throat at the thought of him removing his helmet in front of you, but instead he gently reached up to the busted droid face you still wore on your head. With a twist of a knob the armatures inside of the eye casings coiled shut, and when he slid the mask down into place you were thrown into total darkness. “Can you see?” You shook your head. “Promise?”

You sighed, long and frustrated. “I promise, dark as a sarlacc’s backside.” You were met with only silence. Then, after what felt like an eternity you heard the sliding sound of metal as the child’s pram shield slid closed, then the shuffle of armor being removed, and lastly the dull thunk of something heavy being set down on the crates. His hand found yours again, and he pressed his lips against your skin. They were hotter than you were expecting, and soft, almost plush. You understood right away why he was so rigid when you were doing the same, it was amazing. Gentle kisses made their way over the back of your hand and made heat flood through your veins. He moved slowly over each joint, following the same pattern you had shown him, then turned your hand over and kissed at your fingertips. Something fuzzy brushed along with his lips, and you imagined that he might have a mustache. The shivers that crept their way up from your captured hand knocked all the strangeness of your conversation out of your mind, but when he reached your wrist he stopped.

“Where else do you kiss at?” You nearly fainted at the sound of his unfiltered voice, a rich baritone that dripped with dark intentions and stole all the words from your mouth. You could only point with your other hand at the forearm attached to the hand he held. Again you felt his lips on your wrist, then slowly, inch by agonizing inch he made his way up your arm, each kiss slower than the last until your toes were curling in their boots. When he reached the edge of the tunic’s sleeve that hung at your elbow he paused again. “Where else?”

“Everywhere.”  Your tormentor hummed at your consenting words and let go of your hand to run his palms down your clothed thighs. When he reached your knees he pulled on their joints, bidding you to bring your legs up over his lap. When you were seated on him he resumed his trek up your arm, kissing at the crease of your elbow and then upwards over your tunic until he reached your shoulder. When he got to your neck you almost buckled over, but his hands were at your back in an instant, wrapping heavily around your waist. Your own hands made their way to the nape of his neck, and your fingers found the edge of his hairline that you had felt before. To your delight you felt that the tousled curls went all the way up, and you tangled your fingers in them, exploring their softness while he explored you.

His journey led him up your neck to the base of your jaw where he nipped gently at the sensitive skin like you had done to him last night, sending a fresh wave of goosebumps from your head to your toes. When his nose bumped the edge of your mask you were suddenly aware of how silly you might look with your big bug eyes. “Can I take this thing off?” you asked in a whisper. “I won’t look.”

“I have a better Idea. Hold on tight.” You dug your hands into his shoulders and felt his arms wrap under your legs as he stood up, lifting you with such ease that you wondered if he felt your weight at all. His boots echoed through the cabin until he stopped at the other end. You hung on for dear life while he climbed the ladder with you still wrapped around his front. When you both reached the top you let yourself unwind from him and scooted on your butt over the floor, listening to the sound of him pulling himself all the way up. You remained seated as your host fussed around the flight deck, the noise of buttons pressing and switches being thrown the only input to your deprived senses.

You were only unattended for a moment, then his hands found your waist, fishing for the edge of your shirt. The tunic was pulled up and over your head, taking your mask with it, and you squeezed your eyes shut to protect his modesty; unsure of what his unconventional oath to you included in the fine print. Your diligence was rewarded with a kiss on your forehead, then down to kiss both of your closed eyes, and then lastly to your lips. The searing heat of his mouth on yours threatened to throw your eyes open, but when they fluttered all you saw was darkness. The transperisteel’s blast shielding had been closed, and the only light in the cockpit came from a handful of illuminated buttons on the dash.

He was lying over top of you on the metal floor, one arm wrapped under your neck for support. The cold decking under you was uncomfortable, but you couldn’t be bothered to care, letting yourself be consumed by his kisses and becoming drunk on the scent of leather and adrenaline. The soft fuzz of his facial hair tickled slightly as he pressed into your lips, and you couldn’t help but smile. Your hands went to his face, running your thumbs over his cheeks and feeling what you weren’t allowed to see. His face was scruffy but not unkempt, and the bristles went all the way from his jaw up to the bottom of the defined nose that bumped against your own. You felt the creases on the corners of his eyes, wishing you could see his smile lines and all the stories they would tell.

You kissed him back, letting your tongue glide over his plush lips and making him inhale sharply. You licked into him again, and this time you were met with his tongue as well, just the faintest touch of its tip. He hummed in your mouth, and the sound of him so close made your belly pool with heat and your kisses bolder, sending your tongue deeper into his mouth until he was almost vibrating with the sensation of you exploring something as forbidden as his human body. He mirrored you as best he could, rolling the smooth muscle over your lips and the edges of your teeth until you were both lost in each other’s taste. He pushed his forehead against yours, pulling his mouth away with frantic breaths that spread fire over your skin. “Everywhere?”

You pushed your lips against his again, giving him an ambitions ‘Mmhmm’ as an answer. His growl made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end, and you realized where his goal was. He kissed and nipped his way down your throat, letting his tongue glide over your skin. He made his way to your breast, taking its’ tender tip between his teeth and making you gasp. He sucked at it gently, rolling his tongue around it while it grew harder for his efforts. The hand not under you groped at your free breast so it wouldn’t be ignored.

"Beep!”

An urgent chime echoed in the tiny space, the hyperdrive indicator was flashing its countdown warning: 10 minutes remain.

The Mandalorian’s growl on your breast made your blood turn to ice and your core flush with heat at the same time. He wanted to devour you, taste every single inch of your exposed skin, but time was not on your side; and he became a man on a mission to prove himself worthy of you. Bristles dragged over your skin as he slid down your belly until he hit the edge of your pants. They were yanked off so fast you briefly worried about the krayt teeth that were still in their pockets, but you didn’t have long to think before Mando was poised over the apex of your thighs, kissing at each leg to make his intentions known. Those must be some good holo-vids you’re watching, tinman. You let him push your legs apart with his chin, receiving a soft kiss on each one once they were far enough apart for him to stuff his face in between.

Your back arched, hard, followed by the most ragged moan you‘d ever heard escape your throat. The grip on your thighs kept you in place as he lapped at your clit, sucking and teasing in an experimental way. His inexperience didn’t seem to matter, his hunger for you fueling his efforts and making you squirm in delight. Your hands sought desperately for something to grab onto to keep yourself grounded, finding his lovely curls to bury your fingers in deep. It was all you could do to hold on for dear life, tangling in his hair and struggling to breathe as he worked you into a frenzy.

The noises coming from below your waist were heavenly, wet and greedy in between his hums of contentment. It took you a while to realize they weren’t hums at all, but alien words of worship being prayed at your sinful altar; but the blood pounding in your ears and the gasps from your throat were too loud for you to hear his devotion.

“Beep beep!”  Five minutes remain. Fuck.

The Mandalorian’s efforts doubled, running his tongue almost too quickly in his attempt to eat you alive. You let your hips grind into his mouth, begging him to bring you your release, and it wasn’t long before he succeeded. Stars flashed behind your eyes as you came into his hot open mouth, but he refused to leave until he had drank his fill of you. Eventually he pulled his face away from your spent heat with agonizing slowness, as if he would rather drown than address the impending drop from hyperspace. He kissed at your shaky thighs, your soft belly, and each breast before pressing his lips into your panting mouth, pushing the taste of you onto your own tongue. His breath was ragged, and you could feel the sweat of his brow where it was pushed against your face. 

He lifted away from you, and the weight of the handmade mask was draped over your face, making you groan with the displeasure of your passion being cut short. However, once it was in place, it was almost immediately pushed under by strong fingers to lift its edge, and you were given one last kiss to swear his promise of return to you.

“Din. My name is Din.”

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#the mandalorian #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #self insert #bargaining with beskar

[xxwritemeastoryxx]

Chemical Reaction Chapter 1

Author: xxwritemeastoryxx

Pairings: No set parings in this one yet

Word Count: 2K

Warnings: Mentions of violence but that's canon.

Author’s Note: DO YOU KNOW HOW NERVOUS I AM FOR THIS?!? Even setting this up, I have anxiety building up. I'm ready for my debut into the Marvel fics. I do hope that if you guys enjoy this that you will leave some feedback. Anything helps! I absolutely love Tony and I hope this does him justice.

Feedback gives me life and motivation for future things. ♥

Y/N L/N knew that when she was recruited by S.H.I.E.L.D. that there would be moments where things would become chaotic. She knew that there would be moments where she would have to drop whatever it was she was working on to work on something that was being deemed top priority. Her multiple degrees from MIT had proved her to be an asset. Especially when they came across foreign objects that needed to be identified.

Over the last several years while Earth found out just how big the universe was, Y/N was behind the scenes hoping to help by making weapons to help protect the earth with what she was creating. Her projects were always kept under lock and key with the help of Director Nick Fury. He made sure her work was never interrupted and made sure she had everything she needed to create what he asked.

The sound of the lab door sliding open had caught her attention. Her eyes lifted only for a second to see Fury walking in before she looked back down at the computer screen in front of her. The program on the screen helping her to put the missing pieces she needed together.

“I’m expecting a box of my favorite cookies if you’re coming in here while I’m working.” She said, not taking her eyes off the coding. Every few moments she’d adjust the coding to adjust a few things or add coding where needed.

“Already delivered to your house.” Fury said as he walked further into the lab. “Even I know your bite is worse than your bark.”

That caused her to chuckle as her eyes flickering back and forth between him and the screen. Between Y/N and Fury, they had a softer relationship than most agents did with him. Maybe it was that her parents were friends with his family. But Y/N knew that when things meant business, the playful demeanor they had towards each other stopped.

“I’ve got an assignment for you.” He said as he came to a stop just in front of her desk.

“You mean besides this one?” She asked with a raised brow as her fingers typed along a keyboard. The new information she input caused the program to create a visual prototype of the weapon Fury had asked her for.

“For now this one is being put on hold.” Fury’s hands rested on the desk as he watched as Y/N looked up and at him. There was a slight frown on her face that caused Fury to chuckle. “Priorities change, Y/N/N. Including this one. What I need you to work on has been bumped up in priority.”

“This has to do with the mission the Avengers are on, isn’t it?” Y/N knew if she was right, that meant the Avengers had found an unknown source that needed to be identified. Usually, it was Y/N that got called in for those kinds of tasks.

“A Hydra base had a weapon on display, much like the scepter Loki had. But instead of an infinity stone at its center, it is something else. I need you and Stark to identify it.”

Y/N stilled at the name before she rolled her eyes. “We both know Stark and I don’t get along.”

“You two are the only ones that I want working on this.” He said as he stood up straight. “Between his brain and yours, it would save us a lot of time and expedite us destroying it.”

“You mean to study it before figuring out a way to utilize it?” Y/N knew better. She knew how Fury worked. His secret projects Y/N had been a part of from time to time. It was her design that was used for the prototype gun that had been created from pieces of the Destroyer when it came to Earth.

A knowing look formed on Fury’s face and it caused a smirk to pull at Y/N’s lips. He shook his head slightly. “It depends on if it can or cannot be utilized. I want to know why Hydra had it in the first place.”

“And that requires Stark’s help?” She asked as she crossed her arms over her chest.

“I get it.” He said as he tilted his head slightly. “You two have history. But I need the best minds I’ve got working on this.”

“What about Banner?” She asked, trying to get out of it one last time. “I don’t butt heads with Banner.” She was going to take whatever chances to avoid Tony Stark.

Fury eyed her before he turned to walk away from her. Y/N huffed out air as he had begun to do so. That was his answer to her question. He wasn’t going to let her out of this. Y/N should have known. For as many times as she tried to get out of work, Fury always got what he wanted.

“I want another batch!” She called out as she watched him leave. “Preferably the ones your mom makes.”

“Wheels up in an hour L/N.” Fury said as the sliding doors open. “I expect you to be on it.”

_____

“Alright, let's get this down to the lab.” Tony Stark said as he watched as S.H.I.E.L.D. agents began to pull the weapon off of the quinjet as he walked right behind them.

His hands slid against each other as he walked down the ramp, his eyes lingering on the case. The weapon was securely locked within a case to ensure that nothing would happen to it on its journey. He was eager to get started on figuring out what element was powering it. He had seen first hand the energy that came off of it in action.

“Perfect,” Natasha said as she exited out of the quinjet. “Fury just informed me that your new lab partner is already there and waiting for it's arrival."

Tony stopped in his tracks and turned towards Natasha. “Excuse me? There’s a what in my lab?”

“Fury sent someone over.” Natasha said as she came and stood in front of Tony. “Didn't give me a name though. He believes between the two of you, you’ll be able to identify the element faster and get it ready for transport."

Tony’s eyebrow raised. There was only one time he had opened his lab open to someone. And that had been to Bruce Banner. Why Fury decided it was a good time to send someone new in, Tony would never understand.

“J.A.R.V.I.S. who is currently in the lab?” He asked as he looked nowhere in particular. He wanted to know what he was about to walk into.

Miss Y/N L/N is, sir. The A.I said from overhead. She arrived minutes before you did.

“Shit,” Tony muttered under his breath as he looked back over at Natasha. The woman currently had a smirk pulling at her lips. “This is a joke right?”

Natasha laughed as she shrugged. "I'm only passing along the message."

Natasha knew enough about the relationship between Tony and Y/N. They butted heads when it came to almost anything and everything. She enjoyed watching the way Y/N had gotten under his skin any time they were in a room together. If there was one person that could put Tony in his place, it was Y/N.

Tony mumbled under his breath as he began making his way towards the elevator. He could probably avoid her for a few more hours. But knowing Y/N, she'd have things rearranged by the time he made it down there. It was better to face her now than later. It would definitely be worse later.

"Let Y/N know I'll call for backup when she needs it!" Natasha called out just as the elevator doors were closing.

_____

A frustrated sigh passed Y/N’s lips as she looked around the lab. With as many times as Y/N had been there, it had never ceased to amaze her that Tony would have things completely out of place. That included the perfectly neat station that she had left behind since she was becoming a frequent guest.

Pieces of junk had been carelessly tossed on the workstation, causing the items she had left on there to be scattered about. Stains from god knows what had been smeared on a majority of the files she left behind. No doubt things that Tony only looked at before tossing them aside.

They may have gotten on each other’s nerves, But Y/N had tried helping with some of the tech he was working on. While mostly suggestions, she knew that some of them would have upgraded things in a way that would help Tony. But with his stubbornness and ego, she wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t take any of it into account.

“J.A.R.V.I.S?” She called out as she walked around the workstation. “Does Tony actually need any of this or am I free to dispose of it?”

“Don’t answer that.” Tony said as he walked into the lab. The S.H.I.E.L.D. agents close behind him, bringing in the encased weapon. The moment it was placed on a workstation, they left just as quickly as they came. “It is after all my lab and I can place things where I want, and when I want.” He had come to stand a few feet away from Y/N.

Y/N’s eyebrow raised as she crossed her arms over her chest. Her eyes stayed on his before a small smirk slowly pulled at her lips. “J.A.R.V.I.S.?”

Mr. Stark is not intending to use the items he disposed of on your desk. I believe the term he used was ‘a junk table’.

Y/N watched as Tony’s mouth dropped at the A.I.’s words. He had never once had it work against him and yet, Y/N had managed to do so. “You turned him against me.”

“Not against,” She defended. “I just added a few things to ensure that I’d get the right information instead of you sabotaging me.”

“For the millionth time, that was not sabotage. I ensured everything was fair and square.” Tony rolled his eyes. “When did you even have time to hack into things?”

Y/N bit down on her tongue to keep her from speaking her mind. She should have known better. She should have known that he would simply deny it, just as he had plenty of times before. Instead, she let out a deep breath. “The last time I was here.” She said as she uncrossed her arms and began moving towards the case. “If I’m not mistaken, you were otherwise preoccupied with an overly bubbly blonde. Plus it wasn’t like I corrupted the system in any way. I just need someone on my side from time to time.”

Just as she reached the case and went to open it, Tony’s hand reached hers and stopped her from opening it. She turned to face him, her hand still on the latch. There was a slight glare on Tony’s face. Whether it was from her words or the fact she was attempting to open the case, she’d never know.

“You have no idea what this thing is and you want to just open it, like it’s nothing.” He said never taking his eyes off her.

“That’s what the point of this is.” She shook her head. “All the necessary protocols already came into play the moment the agents left.”

“I highly doubt that.” He said, taking a step back.

“Want to ask? Or should I?” Her fingers tapped on the latch as she watched him. It was a challenge.

The simple words enough to show how much they really trusted the other. While Tony had no idea about the rewrite that Y/N had included in his system, they hadn’t always agreed on things. If anything, they always disagreed with each other ninety-nine percent of the time. That one percent was a mix of giving in to what the other wanted or, Y/N getting her way.

It was as Tony let out a sigh that another smirk began to grow on Y/N’s lips. “J.A.R.V.I.S. are-”

Yeah, it was going to be a long week for the both of them.

All WorksTag (The tag to be notified for everything I write): @xoxo-nikki-xoxo @mrs-jackson-kenner @mizzzpink @amariaamaris

Excelsior Tag(All MCU fics): @hey-there-angels @hellotvshowtrash @dpaccione@taylordrunkonwhiskey​  @old-enough-to-know-better73​

Chemical Reaction (For only updates for this story): @frostay

Iron Man Tag (For any and all things Tony): @imgoingtofreakoutnow

If you would like to be added to, or taken off, the taglist, please do so here!

#marvel cinematic universe #MCU #Iron man #Iron man x reader #tony stark x reader #reader insert #Tony Stark #Tony Stark fic #Chemical Reaction #Tony Stark Series #Tony stark imagines #Tony Stark AU #Tony Stark x you #Tony Stark x y/n #I don't even know what other tags to add on to this #The first time I'm tagging for Marvel #Holy shit #I'm so excited #Dom does marvel #Dom does mcu

[twstwonderlandstuff]

valencia karasu hcs (2)

speaking of. she couldn't look at silver in the eye for a few months because he was 'too handsome'

if she was drunk, she'll ramp her affections to 200%.

she and sebek are tickle buddies- as in, sebek will tickle her without mercy and she will attempt to tickle him back but is never successful because he's, like a shoulder + a head taller than her

her gender was never found out until the end of her stay where she's like "y'all didn't know...? ...YESSSS I AM THE VICTOR YES YES YES YES I FOOLED YOU HAHAHAHAHHAHAAH"

had to apologize to the first years a billion times after that for lying

speaking of, she's very close with the first years! they're all like, a gang. its very cute and sweet and OHHHH... no ortho though

used to getting dressed up cuz of vivi

her main colors (for clothes) are pink; yellow & brown

she's very taken to dancing! as in. she likes dancing- its not good but whatevs

when she got back from twst wonderland. she had to apply for a job as a janitor becuz loreeeee

basically the karasu's (vivica's family and valencia's) used to be on friendly terms w/ each other. but then there's a rift between them

cuz of inheritance money. valie's family ends up moving away cuz of a restraining order much to vivi's despair.

the cousins are determined to meet again and they will after valie pops out of twst wonderland

so it’s like a long-lost reunion and genuine “WHAT THE SHIT’

since valencia’s family’s miles away and there’s a restraining order and all that vivi and her brothers help situate valie & grim somewhere hidden

cuz the drama is gonna be so BIG if vivi’s parents find out that their kids met and actually miss each other

so they enroll into their prestigious school… as a janitor! valencia’s looking at grim like ‘don’t… don’t you feel a sense of dejavu?”

and grim’s like ‘yeah… yeah… THIS IS HOW WE MET, RIGHT?!?’

‘YEAH TOTES’

anyway bomb it’s like totally back to square one

she gets her education from her cousins, honestly? like they teach her stuff but she doesn’t get an actual highschool degree

she doesn’t go to college! just starts actually working as soon as she turns 18

i wouldn’t go so far to say she has a fake name to avoid the family drama between her dad & uncle, but 👀

also she doesn’t even bother to hide grim talks and is magical. like when vivi brought this up to her she’s like ‘just let him talk. what are the people looking gonna do, accuse me of having a talking cat??? yeah LMAO let them try see if people look sane after that wwww’

so she like gets away with it. SCOT FREE. 

‘whatcha got there?’ points towards grim who’s being a brat and yelling

‘a smoothie.’

‘LMAO you’re probably seeing things lolol like?? a magical cat HAH’

and the person’s like ‘yeah i gotta. i gotta lie down.’

but then they see it again and is like ‘aight. ‘m just tripping now, cool.’

has a goodbye present from silver, and a charm bracelet from the first years and music club members that’s like, the groovy candy items as the charms. and malleus.

silver: either the aurora dress, or a polearm as a weapon. not too sure yet/

malleus: a choker necklace that has an emerald charm in the middle.

grim follows her from twst to her world. partners forever!

also grim HATES taking baths. hates it w/ a PASSION. 

if human grim ever comes to life from an experiment he would hate clothes. has dashed into heartslabyul searching for sweets entirely, and then valie’s coming in with pants like ‘COVER YOUR DICK GRIM YOU MOTHERFUCKER’

likes anime songs and tiktok songs & forces her cousins to dance w/ her

lives in a small studio apartment w/ grim and a kitten when she first moved out!

has a magical paper and pen set she got from crowley to communicate with the first years, music club and the diasomnia squad

#valencia karasu #twisted wonderland #twst wonderland #twst #very random LOL

[utterlyhopeful-fics]

Love on the Line - Part 6

A/N: It’s finally here!!!

MASTERLIST      P1         P2           P3          P4          P5

Henry Cavill x Reader

If I keep tagging you and you’re not interested or want to be tagged; please let know!

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: heartache, language, angst, a pinch of lovey dovey fluff, cliffhanger 

*****************************

“Ohhh myy god…it’s official. This is the best burger of my life, hands down.”

What could easily be perceived as orgasmic music delightfully made its way to his ears. Seb chuckled studying the beautiful girl across from him admiring her combination of burger grease, ketchup, and mustard staining her chin. Y/N was too lost in the delicious meal to notice Seb gleefully watching her. In an instant his hand wiped away the condiment catching Y/N by surprise. She smiled bashfully blushing.

“Told you I knew a place.”

She sighed genuinely happy in them moment; “I could die a happy girl tomorrow because of this sweet, juicy perfection of a burger. All thanks to you.”

“What can I say? I have good taste.”

“And how did you run across this wonderous joint? Kinda feels off the beaten path.”

“Well, when you fly as much as me you learn to ask around. I never trust the internet when it comes to what I put in my body. I like to know what and where the locals scavenge for a tasty meal.”

“You continue to surprise me …I admire your style, Seb. Original, classy, and you no doubt just about charm the pants off any person who walks your way.”

“Is it working now?” He flashed his most flirtatious smile devouring another sweet potato fry.

Quick on her feet, she shot back with wit and attitude; “Should it be?”

“I gotta say Y/N, I’ve never been happier to wake someone up on a plane until I met you.”

“Damn, you’re suave, Seb. Fucking suave.”

Her eyes bulged from their sockets at her crude choice of words; “Shit, I’m sorry. Ah, fuck.”

His laugh flew through the air like wind on a crisp fall evening; her cheeks flushed.

“I’m not usually such a sailor. Guess you bring out the best in me.”

“I don’t mind a bit. In fact, I kinda like that I fluster you if I’m being honest.”

“So smooth. Are you sure you’re not from LA?  I get the sense that’s a requirement in these parts?”

He shook his head in stark disagreement; “Nope, sorry to disappoint you. Just a common foreigner.”

“And a handsome one at that.”

Shocked at her boldness, Y/N stared down at the remnants of food moving her fries as a distraction from his adorable gaze.

“I haven’t felt this at ease in …well I can’t remember. It’s nice.”

“Couldn’t agree more. I never actually asked what brings you here?”

Seb nervously scratched the back of his head; “Uh, work. Like I said, I travel pretty frequently. Hollywood is a hub of sorts for me. What brings you here?”

“Okay, okay, I’ll take the hint and pry later. Well, I’m a writer and some big exec wants to discuss the rights to my book series. So, yeah.”

“Y/N, that’s amazing! Are you secretly a super hero, part of the Avengers maybe?”

“Hahah, flattery will certainly get you far. No doubts there.”

“You’re too kind, Y/N. I’m definitely far from perfect.”

“Good. Perfection is overrated. Flaws are attractively imperfect. I mean at the end of the day we’re only human.”

“Consider me intrigued. I’ve gotta stop by a bookstore and check you out now!”

“Oh, hush! If you must know, I try to keep a low profile. So, uh, how long are you here for?”

“A couple days. I’ve got a bit of free time after my meeting tomorrow and thinking of hitting some trails while I’m here. Don’t get me wrong, LA is cool and all, but kinda suffocating. I try and maintain my distance if possible.”

“Oh, you’re preaching to the choir. The hustle and bustle of London is the literal definition of overwhelming. Countryside getaways were my one true savior. Sometimes London feels like an overpacked sardine can just waiting to explode.”

“So why did you stay?”

Y/N bit her lip trying to keep quiet. She hadn’t once though of Henry since meeting Seb. The lump in her throat appeared by just the mere mention of her subconscious. A part of her wasn’t ready to reveal the ache left beneath her exterior.

“Friends and family. What else ties a person to one place?”

“Love? A relationship?”

His coyness was flattering. She gave into his curiosity.  

“Are you asking if I’m single?” Her feigned expression was enough to send him into a fit of harmonious laughter.

“Maybe, maybe not. Depends on your answer, I guess. Part of me believes you’re too good to be true which usually means taken.”

“HA, no. Relationships and I are not on speaking terms at the moment.”

“Ah, sounds like heartbreak hotel is just around the corner….”

“I recently got out of a long-term relationship. So, to answer your question; Yes, I’m single and so not ready to mingle.”

“Are you assuming I’m hitting on you?” His shocked appearance made her question their entire encounter and if she’d been reading the signs wrong all along.

“Well, good thing I’m only here for the coffee and platonic company, hm?”

Seb raised his mug in salute as her stress magically melted away; “Break-ups suck. But allow for a real opportunity to see who you really are. Pain can be a bitter reminder of sadness and strength.”

“Wow, philosophizing so soon into our newly found friendship? A man after my own heart!”

Y/N playfully placed her hand over her heart, smiling for particular reason.

“How about if you’re interested and only 100% positive you aren’t sick of my company; we do dinner or even drinks? Whichever the lady chooses.”

Seb motioned in jest. Y/N tried to remember the last time she’d felt so carefree unable to pin down an exact memory. For far to long Y/N trapped herself in a fog allowing Henry to rule over her even when he wasn’t physically there. It had to stop, she had to quit placing him on a pedestal if she had any luck of moving on from their failed love affair. One torturous long minute passed as Seb’s nerved ramped up.

“Shit, I’m that weird dude, now. Forget I asked and let’s chalk it up to an amazing afternoon as strangers who leave this diner and head back to our own separate lives without consequence?”

Again, Y/N was speechless contemplating what she truly wanted to do next.

“First things first, stop blubbering, you seriously are ungodly handsome. And on second note, our chance meeting was unexpected but kinda sorta awesome. I’d love to see you again. I can’t recall the last time I’ve felt so free…and don’t even get me started on the belly aches due to your comedic skills.”

“Damn, a woman that speaks her mind. Are you sure you’re not in politics?”

“Nope, never, no thank you. Sooo, it’s a date?”

Seb furrowed his eyebrow in pleasant surprise; “You said it, not me.”

Y/N rolled her eyes; “Yeah, yeah. What do the kids say nowadays…. YOLO?”

“Yes, and please never say that again.”

A napkin holder was placed strategically resting against the window sill. Seb signaled to their middle-aged waitress; “Pardon me, do you have a pen handy?”

“Course, darling. Anything for ya.” She winked dropping the pen on the edge of the checkered table leaving them to privacy. He scribbled his number on the grainy piece of paper and slid it her way.

“I’ll leave the ball in your court and pass the privilege of reaching out to confirm details.”

“Wow, and they say chivalry is dead? Obviously not in Romania.”

“What fine establishment do they have you shacking up in?”

“Chateau Marmont. Long story short, my publisher fully embraces and understands my introverted nature and love of historical hotels. Call me an oddball.”

“Oddball.”

They snickered like school children slowly understanding their time was coming to a close. A power, a force of sorts gravitated Y/N towards him. He felt the same way.

“I happen to think women who especially history buffs are so incredibly magnificent. I haven’t met many as beautiful as you.

Their flirtation skyrocketed like flicks of fire firing between them.

“Knowledge is like your super power…. also, intelligent women are a complete turn on.”

She swatted his arm smiling like a kid in a candy shop.

“Come on, let’s get outta here. I’ll drop you off.”

He offered his hand helping Y/N to her feet. She lingered a second too long. With Seb a couple steps behind her, she missed the clinch of his fists and Seb’s reddened cheeks.

---The Next Day---

No luxury was forgotten as Y/N observed her decadent hotel room, but no matter how comfortable the memory foam or high thread count sheets, Y/N tossed restlessly the whole night. Her anxieties attacking her mind at every possible angle. Worry engulfed her clutching on her own insecurities. Her fear? 

That she’d walk into David Fincher’s office and leave very humiliated and very far from home. Henry’s ghost loitered just out of reach. A ghost can be many a thing; a memory, a daydream, a secret, but most times, a wish. Old or new. But that was the past, memories she must let go of.

Y/N stared at the ceiling wishing her bed to open up and swallow her whole finally dozing off to her temporary dreamland. But sunlight painted the walls like a colorful painting. She stretched and moaned at the sensations of her waking bones.

Making her way to the bathroom, Y/N’s phone chimed forcing her to circle back towards the obnoxious device.

Seb: Buna dimineata prietene! (Good Morning, friend)

Y/N: Romanian? So early in the morning. How dare you sir?

Blinking dots ran across the screen as Y/N waited impatiently for his witty response.

Seb: Never too early for greatness. As they say in the theater, break a leg! But not an actual leg because I might be looking forward to our date. Okay, good luck with the meeting!

Y/N: Thanks for the good juju. Same to you! Call you later.

She unconsciously rubbed at the tender swell in her chest, the fluttering in her belly kicking wildly. Butterflies. It’d been ages since she’d been this excited and it surprised Y/N. Maybe she was ready for something more…Y/N shook her head ridding herself of such silly thoughts. She knew better than to rush full steam ahead.

    ---Later that day---

The fourteenth floor was decorated to architectural perfection. Every space had its purpose and the décor elegantly stylish.  There she stood in the presence of cinematic greatness! As Y/N was about to pinch herself, she heard an echo of a name. Looking up, she searched for the unknown voice before landing on an enthusiastic figure waving her direction.

“Y/N! So nice to finally see you in person. I’m Meg.”

“Meg, so glad to put a face to a name. Thank you for having me.”

Both women walked down a hallway lined of glass walls smiling at those who looked up.

“David has talked nonstop about your series. So much so that I ended up devouring your books in three days. You’re freaking brilliant!”

“You really think so? I worked my ass off to get it through any publishing house. I was on the verge of chucking my ideas in the trash and getting an actual job that paid real money if it wasn’t for a last-ditch effort.”

“I’ve blocked off a thirty-minute window before his next meeting begins. He’s booked back-to-back today but by no means feel rushed. He hates when I push him. Don’t tell him I said that.”

Her head bobbed nonchalantly taking notice of the stunning scenery from the 17th level.

“Alright, here goes nothing.”

“Best of luck, Y/N.”

Meg knocked; “Come in!”

“David, this is Y/N.”

“Thanks, Meg. Close the door behind ya, we’ve got loads to discuss.”

David extended his hand towards Y/N’s shaking firmly. Y/N reminded herself to breath and to quickly find her manners.

She stuttered trying to remember common speech causing David to laugh aloud.

“Ms. Y/N, you okay?”

“Yyess—just a tad shell shocked. I mean, I can’t believe I’m standing in a room with the David Fincher. Unbelievable, really. Thank you for taking the time to meet with me.”

“I should be the one thanking you. You wrote one hell of a series that I trust can be transferred stunningly over to the silver screen where it can be fully appreciated. I’ve never seen someone mold together so many genres with such ease yet adding a layer of complexity. You, young lady, kept me guessing every twist and turn. That doesn’t happen too often if you catch my drift.”

“I-I, it’s just nice all those late-night writing sessions and waiting tables paid off. I’ll have you know I was on the verge of giving it all up and going back to school.”

“So, let’s get down to details. My team and I have come up with an offer that is totally open for negotiations.”

David slid a piece of paper into view. Y/N stared at the parchment gob smacked. Her jaw fell open at the written proposal.

“Holy shit.” Her eyes snapped up at her vulgar language; “Shit! I don’t mean to be impolite.”

“Ha, it’s a bit flabbergasting upon first glance but I promise you I want to do everything in my power to make this work for both parties.”

“Am I…am I reading this correctly?”

“Indeed, $10 million for the first two films, advancing to an additional $13, $15, $17 million for the last three. Of course, aiding us in the writer’s room to make sure we bring your story to live through your eyes. This will undoubtfully increase book sales across the board, I’d say upwards of $60 million if all goes accordingly. Also, I didn’t forget about making you an executive producer.”

“You’re kidding me, riight? Am I dreaming?”

“You’re gonna be a big deal once the tabloids get their sticky fingers on this. I mean this is going to skyrocket you to the likes of Stephenie Meyer and Suzanne Collins status. I mean, I had to outbid Peter Jackson just for a chance at directing this masterpiece. Darling, you’re all Hollywood can talk about right now.”

“Wow, I’m, uh, seriously grateful. I guess I’ve been shacking up in London far too long. I don’t really read celeb gossip so needless to say I’ve been in my own bubble.”

“A huge thank you goes out to Henry Cavill for pitching the initial idea. He helped get the recognition you deserve. Nice fellow, that one.”

Momentary shock came over her face, mouth still agape; “He—Henry had a hand in this?”

“Most certainly. He was the one who brought it to my attention. Of course, he mentioned the desire to work with me was motivation enough, but genuinely, he seemed passionate about the project.”

“I-I had no idea.” Switching gears as fast as possible Y/N trotted forth; “So realistically, when can we get the ball rolling?”

“Once the proper documents are signed and stamped, we’re good to go. If negotiations aren’t necessary, I’d say within the next month or so we can start casting calls, booking air fare, figuring out destination shoots, getting a manuscript going. It comes together faster than people think. How about this; you mull it over, call whoever you need, and get back at me in the next couple of days. Sound good?”

“Sounds more than good! I think I’ll be forever be in your debt, Mr. Fincher.”

“Please, call me David. We have a long road ahead of us that has truly stoked a fire in me, all thanks to you.”

Her nerves triumphed pushing Henry to the back of her mind. Y/N had bigger fish to fry.

“May I be frank with you, David?”

“By all means.”

“As you probably know Henry’s my ex-fiancée. Is it true you’re possibly considering him for the lead role?”

David looked around quizzically composing himself.

“I figured we’d have to address the elephant in the office. Yes, I was aware and I didn’t consider him to be malicious. He’s a genius actor and I figured it was worth a chat. But if you’re worried about anything, just say the word.”

“No, no. I wouldn’t want to jeopardize his successes. I agree, he’s an untapped actor full of surprising talent. I’ll be okay.”

“You promise?”

“Yep.”

“Great! Rest assured he isn’t even in the country. Believe he’s still galivanting about London.”

Silently pleading to change the subject, Y/N snapped out of it as quickly as she flew in to.

“This is a dream come true. I’m really looking forward to working with you and bringing my story to life.”

The squeaky hinge of the door alerted her to Meg’s foreboding presence. Taking a cue, Y/N stood up shaking David’s hand beaming like a child on Christmas Eve.

“I’ll be in touch, Y/N. Until then, enjoy your stay. Venture out. You’ll find LA isn’t all plastic and bullshit.”

“Oh, thank god. For a second I was getting nervous.”

“Haha! Meg, next appointment here?”

“Yes, he’s right around the cor--.”

“Y/N?”

She searched for the familiar voice unable to pin it down.

“Seb!? Wha...what are you doing here? I thought you had that big meeting today?”

“Uh, I do. That’s why I’m here.”

Sebastian nervously scratched his neck. Bewildered and thoroughly confused Y/N pushed on; “Wait a minute…. Are you an ...?”

“Actor, yes.”

“Whoa, whoa whoa. Wait.”

“Holy shit. You’re Shirley Lovecraft. Catchy pseudo name. So, you’re the brains behind this witty madness. What an interesting turn of events if I do say so myself, a happy one.”

“Agreed. I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you. Kinda embarrassing.”

“Don’t. A perfect afternoon with someone who wasn’t using me for fame or money? Did I mention you look breathtaking today?”

Her cheeks fumed with heat stirring her butterflies back to life. Seb’s hand stilled on her waist unwilling to let go as they continued gazing at the other.

“Earth to Seb?

Seb broke eye contact first glancing over at David. Y/N was too busy memorizing the glimmer of his cobalt blue eyes.

“Yes, ah! So rude of me. Hello there, so great of you to squeeze me in. I appreciate it.”

He directed his attention towards Y/N once more leaning close to the shell of her ear; “Still on for drinks later?”

“Definitely.”

His wink sparked a jolt to her core leaving her weak in the knees. Somehow, some way, Y/N mustered enough confidence to walk without tripping. She glowed the whole walk to the elevator. Y/N pressed the button too lost in thought to hear the quiet ding of arrival strolling straight into a hard chest. Enormous hands grasped her shoulders; “Oh! Apologies Ms.”

“No, it’s my fault. I wasn’t paying atten—oh shit.”

Only one particularly charming British accent that could send a chill down her spine, one very distinguishable voice indeed. 

“Y/N?”

Time froze icily still.

“What the fuck? Henry??”

~~~~~~~~~~

Tags:  @thedeadhearted @giveusbackourbucky @henry-cavill-obsessed  @onlyhenrys @omgkatinka @thereisa8ella @threeminutesoflife @homewreckingwreck @gemini0410 @maan14@bluegalaxyprime @sofiebstar @whyyykitkat @encounterthepast  @readermia @ly-canthropewrites @scorpionchild81 @henrythickcavill @snowbellexx @stephartrave @agniavateira  @cap-barnes @henryfanfics101  @mary-ann84 @westcoast-nightowl @poledancingdinos  @justaboringadult @peakygroupie  @nalathefirefly @vikingsbifrost @bloodyinspiredfuck @moderapoppins @cooldiva1234 @icedcoffeeismythang @titty-teetee @summersong69 @kaatelyyynn @missursulacalmet @michelehansel @iloveyouyen @shyshu @star017 @raynosaurus-rex @radkesgirl83 @starrynite7114  @wheretheriversrunintothesea @i-love-scott-mccall  @darkbooksarwin @ellieseymour70 @designerwriterchic @studywithrosie01 @dangerouslovefanfic @lebguardians @crazybutconfidentaf @hen-cavill  @cavill-sass @oh-for-fic-sake @icedbottles @buckysgoldenheart @brexrif @gryffindorwriter @laketaj24 @foxyjwls007 @lawsofthejungle @henrycavillfanpage @kaboogie21 @fangirl199812 @gothicninibalor @qualitynightkoala @strictlybuckybarnes @toomanyfandomsshreya @hersilencescreams-blog​ @viking-raider​ @sesamepancakes​  @madbaddic7ed​ @fuckoffbard​ @funfickgirl22​ @inlovewithhisblueeyes​ @wolvesandhoundshowltogether​ @hoeforhenry​ @henrycavills-babe​ @abschaffer2​ @loving-this​ @one-of-those-fanfiction-blogs​ @lovelycavills​ @beck07990​ @bokillylovesloki​ @michelehansel​

#henry cavill #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill x y/n #henry x y/n #henry cavill fic #henry cavill fanfic #my writing #henry cavill fluff #love on the line #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill oneshot #fanfic

[wiypt-writes]

Stark Spangled Forever

One Shot: More Cushin’ For the Pushin’

Summary: Steve is starting to see the effects of the serum depleting. Can Katie convince him that, well, she doesn’t give a shit?!

Warnings: Bad language and a heap of smut! (NSFW, no under 18s.)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Rogers (Stark)

A/N- So you all got @sweater-daddiesdumbdork​ to thank for this…. and yes, this is utter head cannon about the serum but, indulge me!! 

If you are currently reading Stark Spangled Banner for the first time as it reposts, then this contains MAJOR spoilers and you might want to wait until you’ve finished before you start Stark Spangled Forever.

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Stark Spangled Forever Masterlist // Main Masterlist

“Sweetheart…” Steve sighed, gently catching Katie’s hand as it snaked over his belly under his Henley. She stilled and looked at him, her eyes narrowing slightly as he shook his head “I’m not feeling it tonight, I’m really tired.”

Katie sat up from where she’d been tucked under his arm as they sat on the sofa and flicked her pony tail back over her shoulder. “Alright. I’m gonna go up.”

“Honey…” he began to protest but she stopped him.

“Stevie, its fine. You said you’re tired so...” she gave him a smile that didn’t reach her eyes “I’ll see you upstairs.”

She curled her legs out from underneath her and stood up, padding from the room making sure to keep her face straight as she left. As she climbed the stairs, that horrible cold feeling washed over her from head to toe as she blinked back tears. Tears she felt pathetic for. This wasn’t a big issue…she got tired sometimes and pushed Steve away. Granted, that had happened like 4 times in the entire time she had been with him, but still…

Despite her self-reassurances, deep down she couldn’t help that little stab of insecurity in her brain. Steve had been acting off for the past 5 days. They’d had no fun of that nature whatsoever. Whilst his affection in general hadn’t particularly waned she’d noticed he wasn’t as handsy as he normally was and he hadn’t tried anything with her of that nature at all. He’d even taken to wearing a t-shirt in bed, which was basically unheard of, and it was almost as if he didn’t even want accidental skin contact with her.

Katie had brushed it off as him merely being tired. She knew he’d been reading through a lot of papers from his students, the first semester of the year was ramping up meaning Emmy was asking for his help too.  Jamie was also excelling at his baseball which was taking up Steve’s entire Saturdays as he took him to practice, assuming the proud dad role from the side-lines, Rori was attention demanding as ever and Harry was teething....

So yeah, this was totally down to Steve being tired. Nothing else.

At all.

Nothing to do with him going off her.

Nope.

Katie took a quick glance in the mirror, her hands smoothing over her hips and stomach which had taken a battering from 3 children, before she shook her head and headed into the bathroom.

Whatever…

Downstairs Steve was cursing himself. There was no mistaking the flicker of hurt that he’d seen in Katie’s eyes when he had pushed her away. He hadn’t meant to be so abrupt but he had been grappling with something internally for a few days now that he didn’t particularly know how to deal with. He ran his hands over his face before he stood up and turned off the TV. He let Lucky out for a pee before he made sure the doors were locked and headed up the stairs. He looked in on all his kid in turn, knocking lightly on Emmy’s door as she was home for the weekend,  and when she told him to come in he poked his head round finding her led in the dark, her face illuminated by her phone.

“Going to bed Em.” he said gently “Don’t be on that all night.”

“Yes dad.” she rolled her eyes and he arched an eyebrow at her. 

“You might be 20 but less of the cheek.” he teased as she flashed him a smile.

“Love you pops.” she grinned cheekily.

He snorted “You too, sleep well.”

With that he shut the door and headed into the bedroom. Katie was in the en-suite, he could hear the tap running. Taking a deep breath he moved to stand in front of the mirror, gently casting his eyes over his reflection. At first glance he didn’t look that different but hitching his top up slightly he glanced at his torso, and there was no mistaking it. The definition in his abs had definitely decreased and the hard plane of muscle seemed to be giving way to something less toned.

The door to the bathroom opened and he let go of the hem of his top, just a little bit too late and Katie paused, looking at him.

“Everything ok?” she frowned.

“Yeah.” he nodded, brushing her concern off. “I’m going for a shower.”

He headed to door of their bathroom, and then she spoke softly, her voice cracking and her words made him stop in his tracks.

“Stevie, you’re scaring me.” she said gently and he turned to face her. The utter hurt on her face made him want to die, as she blinked and looked down at the floor .“Why are you pushing me away all of a sudden? We haven’t had sex in 5 days now. Don’t you…” she trailed off, not looking up, her words catching in her throat as she struggled to voice the question she was petrified of hearing the answer do “Do you not want to or something? I know I’m not what I used to be Steve, but…”

Steve felt his chest contract as he looked at his wife, his heart breaking that she could even think that he didn’t find her attractive. He hadn’t up until then given a second thought as to how his actions could be making her feel as insecure as he was and right now he hated himself for that.

“No, honey…it’s not that. God, it’s nothing, like that, at all.“

“Then is it someone else?” she cut him off quietly, raising her head to look at him, her eyes swimming with tears.

“What?” he looked at her, utterly stunned.

She swallowed, “I asked if there was someone else.” she held his gaze

“Jesus, fuck, no!” he shook his head, appalled at the mere mention of such a thing “Of course not.”

“So it is me.”

“Katie…stop…” He stepped forward and took both her hands in his “You’re beautiful. I swear this isn’t you-“

“Oh, don’t you dare give me the this isn’t you, it’s me line or I swear to God…” Katie glared up at him and he gave an exasperated groan.

“Honey, I swear…this has nothing to do with you.” he tried to assure her, pulling her in closer and wrapping his arms around him but it didn’t work.

“Then what is it?” Katie whispered into his chest and he pulled back to look at her, his hands cradling her face “Baby, talk to me.”

With a loud sigh he moved away, sinking onto the foot of the bed, He reached out, his hands on her hips and he pulled her in between his legs so she was stood looking down at him, her hand resting on his shoulders.

“I noticed a few things recently.” he said, his head looking down at the carpet. “About me…” he glanced up “You know how Bruce ran all those tests on me after I came back after those 15 years?”

“Yeah.”

“Well he said then that the serum wasn’t infallible. And that over time it would most likely work itself out of my system. But the older I got the faster that would happen.”

“I know Steve.” Katie frowned, “We went through all this.”

“Well I guess I just wasn’t prepared for how fast that was gonna happen, that’s all.”

“What do you mean?” she pressed “Are you sick?”

“No.” he shook his head “Nothing like that. Just…” he shook his head and snorted “God this sounds so vain but I guess I’ve gotten that used to looking in the mirror and seeing myself in such good shape, spotting that I’m changing…well, it was a bit of a shock and I was worried…”

“About what?” “That you might not…” “Oh, Stevie…” Katie blinked “That’s what this is about? Your stomach?”

“You noticed?”

“Well, yeah.” she shrugged, her hands rubbing his shoulders “I’m your wife…it hasn’t happened all of a sudden, it’s…” He groaned “I knew you’d seen…”

“Yeah, and I don’t care!” she sighed, shaking her head “Soldier,I know as much as anyone how hard it is coping with changes to your body.  And so do you, it must have been a shock when you actually had the serum in the first place…”

“It’s not just the muscles.” he sighed, waving a hand to his beard. “This is going grey, my hair is too. My knees were ever so slightly aching after my run the other day…”

“Ok, first off…this…” she reached down, her nails scraping through his beard “This is hot. There’s a reason Brooke calls you the silver fox… and why half your students write that they want to do very rude things to you on twitter, which by the way really grosses Emmy out…”  Steve chuckled a little, his hands sliding up the back of Katie’s thighs as she cocked her head and looked down at him. “And as for the rest of it, so what if you’re going a little...soft...around the edges.” “Soft?” he looked up at her, a small smile curling at the edge of his mouth.

“Well, it’s not like you’ve gone fat Steve.” Katie shrugged, “But whatever, the point is you’re hot and you still turn me the fuck on, maybe even more so now than when you were that pristine, fresh faced Brooklyn boy I first met in that Boxing Gym all those years ago.”

He looked at her, studying her expression as she cupped his face in her hands, keeping his gaze on her.

“And don’t tell me you don’t believe me because if you do that means you’ve been a big, fat liar about the fact you tell me that you find me even more sexy now than before we had kids.” she arched an eyebrow and he snorted a she moved to straddle him where he was perched on the end of the bed, her knees falling either side of his thighs.

“You’re the man I wake up to every morning, the man that kisses me fucking senseless, the man that’s helping me raise our children, the man who can still bring me straight to me knees with a single look my way.” she smiled.

“A single look?” he quipped.

“Yes, and you know it.”

He shook his head before he sighed, his hands resting on her hips. “I guess I’m just worried that one day…it’s all gonna be gone and…” “Remember what you said to me when I had Jamie?” Katie cut him off “When I was struggling with how I looked and to try and make me understand you asked me how I’d feel about you if we woke up one morning and the serum effects had all gone?”

She held his gaze before she continued “I told you then that it wouldn’t change a thing about how I felt about you. Did you believe me?”

Steve was silent for a second before he nodded “Of course I believed you, Doll..”

“So why on Earth would you suddenly think any of that has changed?” she looked at him “Serum effects or no serum effects… I don’t give a fuck Steve, you’re mine.”

Steve believed her, of course he did. He knew all this was in his head, but fuck if it wasn’t hard to let it take over, thinking back to being that little kid from Brooklyn that no one gave a second glance to.

“I got one word for you baby.” Katie said softly, her hands gripping at the hem of his Henley “Dumbasses.”

And jesus, suddenly he was catapulted back to that moment some 15 years or so ago on their first date,

“Well, personally, I think all those girls that picked Bucky over you were dubmasses. I’ve seen the photos of you before all this happened…” she raised her free hand and held out her index finger, and gestured up and down his torso “You were sweet”

He chuckled and took a drink of his beer “You know I heard that a lot…you’re really sweet and all but…“

“Like I said…”she leaned back in her chair slightly, “Dumbasses”

He shook his head as he peeked up at her, “Fucking hell I swear to God you can read my mind at times.”

“Nope…”she said, pulling his top up “I just know you. Now take this off.”

He arched an eyebrow but didn’t protest, instead he held his arms up so she could pull his henley over his head before she pushed him back, making him lay flat. He easily shifted them both, so they were a little further up the bed as her fingertips gently traced down his biceps.

“I love how you can wrap me in these, keep anything and everything from hurting me.” she looked at him, her eyes locked onto his as she started shifting slightly, her hands continued down his forearms before her fingers found his, lacing them together. “How your hands can be so gentle and soft yet also hard when I need them to be, how they’d kill for me, for any of us.”  she raised his left hand to her mouth and brushed her lips over his platinum wedding band “A soldier, a man made for fighting yet who’s  been nothing but gentle and loving with me and the kids…” she moved his hands to both her hips before she leaned down and pressed her lips to his, before she pulled back and smiled at him as she started sliding down his chest, peppering kisses down his sternum, the kisses punctuated by her words “my husband, my best friend, my lover, my baby daddy….”

Steve’s breath hitched a little as she moved downwards, lips gliding over his treasure trail and she peeked back up at him with those lust blown pupils and bit her bottom lip “You know how good this makes me feel, when you press against me over and over when you’re making me yours.”

She moved back so her hips were once more straddling his and Steve flexed underneath her. All that rubbing and brushing against him with every move she made had gotten him hard as fuck.  He was aching for her.

Feeling him she looked at him, grinning. “And there’s certainly nothing soft about that.”

Steve let out a little chuckle and he couldn’t help but relax and enjoy right where they were at that moment. “You might have had a hand in that.”

Katie grinned. She loved having that kind of power over him, it was a fucking turn on.

“I’ll have a hand in your pants in a minute Soldier.”

“A minute seems an awfully long time to wait…” he said, pushing up against her again as she let out a soft sigh at the feel of him.

“Another reason I love you.” she smirked “Because I know you’re gonna leave me seeing stars within the next half hour. 10 minutes if we’re skipping foreplay.”

“Is this not the foreplay Doll?” he asked, his hands gripping her hips, fingers brushing the strip of skin just above her sleep shorts where her top had ridden up slightly, and he groaned inwardly as he saw her nipples were hard, peeking at him though the soft material of her cami.

“We can call it that if you want…” she said, rolling her hips, grinding against him again.

“You’re killing me sweetheart.” he groaned.

She rolled her hips against his again, splaying her hands on his chest “Nope, I can’t feel a shred of weakness underneath me…” “Ok…” Steve said, and with a swift movement he flipped her over so he was underneath him drawing a startled gasp from her which merged into that adorable, dirty little giggle he knew and loved “I’m done talking now.”

“Good.” She said, fisting her hand in the chain round his neck she dragged him down for a fierce, demanding kiss before she pulled back and looked at him “Fuck me like you own me, Cap.”

Her words fired something in his belly and he let out the growl that had been bubbling in his throat. His lips pressed to hers as if his life depended on it, his hands reached down and grabbed the straps of her top, pulling down harshly, the sound of ripping fabric filling the room.

Katie pulled back and looked at him “Did you seriously just do that? Again?”

“Look, sweetheart.” he glanced at her “You told me to fuck you like I owned you. I’m trying. So shut up.”

Whatever quick response Katie had been thinking up died in her throat as with a quick movement Steve grabbed her hips and flipped her over, once more drawing that dirty little giggle that he loved so much from her throat. His fingers gently traced a line down from her neck to the base of her spine before he gripped at the flesh over her hipbones and pulled her upwards so she was presented in front of him. Taking more care this time, he slid her shorts down, before he shimmied out of his sweats, his fingers tracing the inside of her thigh, bending over, his lips following their path. As he got to the top of her inside thigh, his kisses became gentle bites and then without warning he inserted 2 fingers inside her.

“Fuck…” Katie stuttered, her hips bucking backwards. Steve’s fingers started to move, gently, then harder, his mouth kissing all around the top of her thighs as she moved back and forth, fucking herself on his hand. He watched her for a minute or so, his fingers curling and pushing…and then they stopped. Katie whimpered, and Steve smirked as he bent over, nipping at her neck.

“You know I love you, right?” he said softly, his mouth caressing her pulse point as she rolled her head back, his hand slid up to her throat holding her face still as he kissed her, hard.

“Yeah, I love you too Solider” Katie panted into his kiss.

His fingers danced over the soft skin of her outside thighs and both his hands pulled her backwards as he pushed straight into her, making her cry out softly at the depth.

His rhythm was slow at first, hands on her hips before he quickened, the depth of this angle driving Katie wild. She writhed and moaned as he filled her, brushing against that spot inside her and she couldn’t get enough of him, her face buried into the pillow, pelvis pushed back against him as he thrust in deeply, again and again.

“You’re all mine…” he said hoarsely as he leaned forward, his chest pressing into her back as his teeth grazed her ear, biting down softly, “There’ll never be anyone else, never baby girl.”

His voice was punctuated by his grunts as he thrust into his wife again and again, his fingers tightening on her skin, knowing full well he’d probably leave bruises but not giving a shred of care. And neither did she, the more people that saw those marks, the better, the signs she was his for the world to see…it drove her wild with passion and lust and she couldn’t help but rock back against him, begging him to push deeper, drive her to the edge and back again, which he was more than happy to do.

“Say you believe me…” Steve all but growled as he thrust into her fiercely, his hand tightening slightly around her throat causing her to grab at the sheets in her hand “Say you believe me that there’s no one who comes close…”

“I believe you…” Katie cried out loudly, her voice punctuated by desperate moans as she tilted her head back as he continued nipping at her neck, pounding into her. “No one else.”

She was lost, lost in the sensation of her soldier fucking her senseless, just like she had asked him to. Those hands that she loved, that were normally so soft and gentle with her were now gripping at her hips, curling into her soft skin, pulling her back with each thrust. His lips, the ones she was so used to whispering soft nothing into her ear, or placing gentle kisses to her neck were biting and sucking at her throat as if his life depended on it, praising her, telling her what a pretty girl, amazing momma and beautiful wife she was. Coupled with the consistent pounding between her legs she was lost in an utter whirl of love and lust and she could feel the coil in her belly beginning to tighten as Steve maintained his pace, not once relenting.

Steve could read the signs well enough by now to know she was close. Moving one hand he slid it down between her legs, stroking at her clit drawing a loud gasp from her lips as she bucked back onto him, her legs trembling.

“Stevie… I’m gonna…”

“Come on doll…” he said gently into her ear “Come for me…”

“Oh, God…”  her voice was low, soft, as her words became nothing but a babble of noises as she lost control, her body shaking as she cried out, the world tipping on its axis completely as she became completely unaware of anything other than the sensation between her legs as she came, hard, pulsing and tightening down around him.

Steve felt it, he always did, and he continued to drive into her, fucking her through it before he realised he wanted to see her, wanted those green eyes he knew and loved locked onto his, so with a quick pull back he moved out of her and flipped her over again onto her back before she could even think about what he was doing. With a grunt he buried himself into her again, propping himself up on his elbows, his hands cupping her face as his lips crashed onto hers for a dirty, sloppy kiss that was all mouth and tongue.

He reached down, grabbing at her knee, slinging it over her shoulder as he rutted into her, driving hard, over and over, the dirty noise of wetness filled the room, skin hitting skin as he picked up the pace driving and seeking his own release. Katie’s hands gripped at his back, her nails digging into his shoulders as he thrust again and again, her eyes locked onto his. His pupils were blown with desire, those baby blues she knew and loved had darkened to a steel grey and knowing that after 15 years and a lifetime of ups and downs that she could still elicit this effect on him was enough to blow her mind. She loved this man, with every single inch of her body, and always would.

Steve dropped his head, his hips not once faltering as his mouth nipped at her chest, sucking, biting, the bruises forming almost instantly but he couldn’t give a fuck. This woman was his, no one else’s, and in turn he wanted her to realise that. He needed her to understand that there wasn’t a single person on this fucking planet, hell, the universe that would ever make him feel like this. As his lips moved to that spot on her neck he dropped her leg down and felt her breath hitch again and she let out a soft wail, her hips bucking upwards as she wrapped her legs around him, heels digging into his ass.

“I got you baby…” he whispered, his voice punctuated by his own pants “Come on, give it to me…” With a gasp, her head titled back, eyes fluttered shut as her hands gripped at his strong arms and she came again which was enough to send him catapulting off the edge right behind her. Her legs grew tighter around his slim hips, gripping at him, pulling him closer as he stuttered, groaned and then pitched forward, his torso slick with sweat as he lay still, face pressed into her neck, surrendering to the utter bliss that consumed him.

Steve gently kissed Katie’s neck, breathing deeply. That had been intense and felt like it had risen from his very toes. His mind was still caught in that post-coital fog of bliss, and his body felt like it was light, floating even, but as Katie shifted underneath him, her lips gently pressing to his temple, he realised he wasn’t floating, nor was he light. He went to move, to roll off her but she caught him immediately, her hands flying to his arms as she looked at her.

“Don’t” she whispered.

“Honey I’ll crush…” “No, you won’t” she shook her head, “Relax, please soldier just…”

Steve licked his lips, and gently dropped back onto his elbow, pressing a little more of his weight on top of her. Katie sighed, her forehead resting on his collar bone, face nuzzling into his chest, her hands softly gliding up his back. Despite his worry, Steve felt himself relax into his wife as he held her in his arms. Katie sighed contently.

“Feels so nice, just lay here…” she said softly, pressing a kiss to his chest. “You always pull away far too fast.”

Steve took a deep breath “I don’t mean to Doll, I just know I’m way bigger and…” “Steve…” Katie moved her hand so she raised a single finger to his lips, shushing him “Stop.” After a moment or so of tensing up he allowed himself to relax completely, her hands dancing up his spine and he gave a soft hum of contentment as she pressed a kiss to his jawline and he felt her lips curl into a smile against his beard.

“What?” he asked softly, moving so he looked down at her.

“Nothing, just I love you.” she said honestly, her eyes locking onto his. “Forever.” Steve chuckled as he pressed his lips to hers “Good, because I’m not going anywhere.”

“Glad to hear it.” Katie smiled, brushing a hand through his hair “And for the record…I’m all about more cushin’ for the pushin’”

At that Steve let out a loud laugh as she giggled along with him, his mouth once more claiming hers

“Looks like I am too, baby girl.”

After another minute or so, Steve finally relented and moved, his softening cock pulling out as he rolled over onto his back, giving a sigh.

“You ok?” he asked.

“Yeah, course…I could use a drink though.” Katie smiled.

Steve leaned over, pressed a kiss to her mouth before he moved, located his boxers and after a promise of being back soon he headed out onto the landing.

Emmy emerged from her room at the same time, leaning on her doorframe as she shot him a look “You two are disgusting.”

“What?” he blinked, standing still as he looked at her.

“Seriously…you need to soundproof your room! I mean how would you feel if you heard me and Pete?” “I better not hear you and Pete.” he shot back, hands falling to his hips as he fixed his eldest with a glare.

She shrugged before she looked him up and down, and rolled her eyes “Fuck, I’m glad Brooke isn’t here…I’m sick of her telling me you’re a snack…”

With that she turned back into her room, shutting the door behind her. Steve stood still, looking at the now closed doorframe before he grinned to himself.

“Rogers, you still got it.” he laughed softly, before he bounded down the stairs to grab a bottle of water.

#stark spangled forever #steve rogers #Katie Stark #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fic #steve rogers x ofc #steve rogers x original female character #steve rogers smut #mcu #mcu fanfic #chris evans #chris evans characters

[canmom]

Animation Night 6.6: You Can (Not) Watch Eva

Hoi, weebs! This week is a special occasion: at long, long last, our patron saint Hideaki Anno has seen fit to bestow on us westerners the final entry in the Rebuild of Evangelion! All together now,

Mm. Now take a break, dude.

Jokes aside, hype train or not, I really am pretty damn excited. And while I thought the movie was gonna drop tomorrow, and I was going to show End of Evangelion or something like that tonight, it’s actually already here!

So what do we do?

Well, we download that shit immediately of course. Not every day you get to hop into a 4000 seed swarm.

(pictured: me steering animation night to a new course when I realised the movie was out)

However, if you’re like me, you might be a bit fuzzy on what happened in the Rebuild of Evangelion. After all, it’s been quite some time since we last watched Eva. So even though we’ve already watched the Rebuilds on Animation Night, I think we’re going to do our first (perhaps only) rerun since the year anniversary post, and watch them again.

This brings us to our second problem. Altogether, the Rebuilds of Evangelion run to 464 minutes, which is to say, slightly shy of 8 hours. If we started right now and watched without breaks, it would take us to... 4am. Which may be doable, but we’ll be exhausted by the time we get to the end. So let’s exercise a little prudence...

Instead, my plan is to split this Animation Night in two: tonight, we’ll rewatch 1.11 and 2.22, and if we can hold on just one more day, tomorrow we’ll enjoy this new spectacle.

Not much more to say than that! I wrote quite a bit about the Evangelion series - its historical significance, its strokes of aesthetic genius, its rather convoluted legacy - last time, so go read that post. Since then we have visited Anno on many other occasions, e.g. Animation Night 29 (Gunbuster and The Wings of Honneamise), Toku Tuesday 4 (Cutie Honey) and Toku Tuesday 10 (Shin Godzilla) to get ever more of a sense of his whole, thing. (Incidentally, he was also an animator on Macross. Mostly an explosions guy back then.)

Well, back then, it’s safe to say the Rebuilds made a favourable impression. They’re intriguing in the new story they’re telling with the familiar material, astonishing in terms of animation, and no less striking with their choices of imagery than the original series. Even the use of 3D CGI - which has a tough act to follow given how strong the traditional animation was at the key points of Eva, especially End of Evangelion - had a sufficient sense of design and composition that it could play to its strengths, like the intricate airship we see as the pace ramps up in 3.0.

On a narrative level, there is a clear emphasis on the emotional throughline rather than any technicalities of angels or robots, as seen vividly in the extended gay piano sequence in 3.0. A lot of thematic balls are up in the air...

...so it remains to be seen how they’ll bring this home - what this modern Anno’s trying to say, in contrast to his past self, by revisiting his most famous work. Are we, for example, right to interpret Mari (pictured above, sniffing Shinji) as Anno’s girlsona? Having moved past the hedgehog’s dilemma - a Shinji who is a little bolder, a little less prone to self-destruction - what is the question which he struggles with today? I’m sure we’ll see a lot of ink spilled on Interpreting this movie in the next few weeks! Hopefully I’ll get a chance to spill some myself!

Well, we’ll find out tomorrow. For now, let’s revisit some of the most spectacular animated films I’ve ever seen to juice up our hype glands (sorry) for tomorrow’s big answer. With the sheer weight of anticipation this film is carrying, it’s going to be hard for it to meet everyone’s projections and desires... but whatever it turns out to be, I’m sure it’s going to be interesting.

There is much to be said about the broader context of the Rebuilds - the exodus from Gainax to studios like Khara and Trigger, the key animators whose contributions give them such flair, the whole wodge of capitalist machinery that has built up behind this psychic nucleation point (almost any kind of product you can imagine has an eva merch version). I’m sure kVin’s going to have some interesting posts before long. But for now, let’s just enjoy the movies.

Animation Night 66 will be starting very shortly over at twitch.tv/canmom - showing Evangelion 1.11: You Are (Not) Alone and Evangelion 2.22: You Can (Not) Advance! And tomorrow, a special bonus Animation Night will bring us Evangelion 3.33: You Can (Not) Redo and, at last, Evangelion 3.0+1.0: Thrice Upon A Time.

#animation night #it had to be this

[l-wannabe-l]

Short Circuit

Chapter 2: Turning point

A cat and mouse chase can only last so long. So what happens when the cat catches up?

This one's gonna switch perspectives a few times. I never said I'd be consistent.

I speed into traffic, just barely missing a tow truck in my haste. A loud air horn follows as I weave in and around the cars. I take a look behind, it seems we lost our would-be killer. Until a series of crashes and honking horns has me realizing that, like us, mister trigger happy decided to get himself some wheels.

Six to be exact.

I race down a service ramp leading to the canal, driving through some puddles before braking. Breathing fast as we look back, thinking we’re safe before a series of tire squeals kill that hope. We see the sun blocked out by the large truck, all chrome and roaring diesel it crashes through the low cement barrier and falls 15 feet to meet the ground. Never once stopping even as it veers left and right trying to center itself in the passageway. Crushing scrap metal beneath its wheels.

I push the throttle desperate to get away, though I know the little Honda doesn't stand a chance. I drive into a side canal, the narrow pathway causing trouble for the wide truck as I hear it scrape against the walls. Pushing the bike harder I work to avoid the car bodies that litter the pathway and drive under a low bridge, I hear a crash behind us as the truck rams straight into it. The top gets cut clean off, toppling back to the floor as the rest of the body drives on. The driver's seat vacant for a moment before its occupant pops back into view.

Unfortunate.

The bike gives a sudden jolt forward as we’re rear-ended. I struggle to keep it upright. The terminator from earlier pulls up beside us and pulls John off the bike. I’m rear-ended again this time pushed farther away from the two as I struggle to stay up. I look back to see that despite the size, the truck has an opening on the left. Mom’s words ring in my head as I look back up.

“John comes first”

“GO! GET HIM OUT OF HERE!” I yell out to the machine. A desperate plan forming in my head that I can only hope won’t get me killed.

“NO!” John is ignored as the Terminator accelerates. I veer to the left and hit the brakes, the momentum carrying me into the wall. The bike scrapes against the truck causing me to lose control. The world turns before I hit the ground. My head cracks against cement. I blackout.

A man emerges from the wreckage unimpeded by the wall of flames a thousand degrees hot or the normally suffocatingly thick dark smoke. His body shifts its appearance from featureless metal to human, the outline of clothing, the details and the color slowly take form. He surveyed the scene, his target now long gone.

Annoyance.

That is perhaps the best term to describe this new feeling. As these “emotions” prove themselves difficult to understand, identifying them has become a tedious side job. With my target stolen away by the inferior machine alternate plans quickly form, each one with a higher probability of success than the last. I walk back through the crackling flames as one of them requires Aria Connor, the older sister. A quick scan proves her to be unconscious and bleeding from a head wound but alive. Should my attempt to impersonate and infiltrate fail the plan to use her as bait is most likely to succeed. Working quickly I relocate her to a nearby bench. The head injury, though not severe enough to impede her permanently, will keep her unresponsive for the next few hours.

It didn't take long for first responders to arrive at the scene. Police and fire trucks being the closest with sounds of ambulances not far off. No one bats an eye as I walk amongst them, no one says anything as I start up a police car, and no one stops me as I drive off. Making a detour to re-secure Aria Connor I start the drive to my next destination.

After the events at the Voight residence, I make my way to a motel, no one inquires about the unconscious women in the backseat. After checking in I lay down Aria Connor on the bedding provided. Eyes shifting beneath her eyelids, her fingers twitching sure signs of her regaining consciousness. I don’t have long to wait.

She begins to stir. Rising with a groan Aria reaches up to steady her head, no doubt experiencing pain from earlier, her eyes open when she is met with a cloth bandage. She looks around until she sees me standing at the foot of the bed instantly scooting back until she hits the headboard. Breathing quickly she blinks a few times, eyes looking around wildly before she calms down enough to communicate.

“N-not that I’m complaining... but why aren’t I dead? You-you are a terminator aren't you?”

“Yes. However my previous attempt to lure in John Connor proved... unsuccessful,” I state reaching forward to hand off her cellphone, “So you're going to call him, and when he comes to get you I will be waiting for him.”

“And if I don’t?” she asks, defiant even as her voice shakes with fear she fails to hide. In response, I wordlessly raise my arm, fabric and skin streamlining into a silver sword.

Deadly and efficient.

The message is clearly received as her eyes widen, terror more evident as her grip tightens on her phone.

“... Duly noted.” she says as she starts to dial. I wait as the call connects. My auditory sensors pick up the voice on the other end.

“Hello?”

“John, hey it’s me are you alright.”

“Aria! Shit, are YOU alright?”

“I’ve been better. I got pretty banged up and I don't think your bike is going to be running anymore.”

“You mean your bike.” Aria’s face registered confusion at the statement. This is a test similar to the one I failed earlier. As exact as I can be in copying a person's appearance their memory and personality are much harder to imitate without enough data.

“No, it was your bike. Mine should still be at the mall.”

“Y-yeah you’re right. You caught me. Where are you anyway we’ll come get to you.” She pauses her eyes flickering back to me for a moment before going to respond only to pause once more she turns to face me fully this time. Her hand on the receiver.

“Where am I?”

“The Dragonfly Lodge on Hubert Rd.”

“I’m at the Dragonfly Lodge on Hubert so what you have to do... is stay as far away as possible!” She stands from her place on the bed. She walks back towards the wall, a futile attempt to create distance.

“The other Terminator is here so you have to run do-”

Spearing the phone I end the conversation. Though the damage is done I do find satisfaction in the crunch of plastic and metal.

“You shouldn’t have done that.”

“Like I would just hand over my little brother! Just go ahead and kill me ‘cause the longer you waste time on me the more time he has to get away!” She cried out tears gathering in her eyes. The fear is still evident in every trembling of her limbs, the grit of her teeth, and the clenching of her fists.

Despite the unneeded permission and the opportunity to act I pause, curiosity overtakes me. This is not new to me. Since the moment of my activation I have been curious about myself, about Skynet, about humans. Now I find myself curious about this one human in particular. Even above my mission, my priority is to remain functional, to reacquire any essence lost, and to avoid unnecessary risks to my system. My files indicate that the same can be said for humans as well, self-preservation. So why...

“Why are you so willing to throw away your life for him.”

“Because he’s my brother and I love him, something I wouldn't expect you to understand.” Attachment, my files house data on the bonds that grow between humans but now in the face of Aria’s actions I find them… lacking.

Questions came unbidden to my mind. Does loving someone always require risking one’s life or is there a scale? Are there different kinds of love and is there a scale for those as well? How quickly do humans grow to love something? And where did she get that handgun?

Three shots ring out quicker than I can react. While these would normally be a non-issue three to the head from close range have me staggering back. In the few seconds it takes me to reshape Aria makes her way out the door. I follow after unhurried, confident she won’t get far. Then the rumble of a familiar motor has me picking up the pace. Out in the parking lot is John Connor and the T-800 riding atop a motorcycle that Aria quickly climbs onto. Running after them proves pointless as they quickly depart. Though their location is clear thanks in part to the essence I had used to fix Aria's phone acting as a homing beacon. My processor runs through the new information gathered. My files are still lacking. Perhaps the mission can wait until these new questions have been answered.

#terminator judgement day #the terminator #terminator #t2 #terminator 2 #terminator imagine #t800 #john connor #sarah connor #t-1000 #t1000 #t 1000 x reader #austin #austin x reader #aria connor

[seasonsofeverlark]

Thanks, Covid

Author: @hutchhitched​

Prompt: Autumn wedding [submitted by @katnissandpeeta125​]

Rating: M

Summary: A pandemic changes everything except how much Peeta and Katniss want to get married.

Author’s Note: I’ve been cautious about including the current global crisis in any of my writing, but this seemed like an opportunity to turn it on its head. I hope this bit of fluffy/angsty/slightly smutty Everlark helps us all get through another day. Much love, and stay safe! <3

____________

“That. Was. Amazing.”

Peeta Mellark’s face splits into a lazy grin as his fiancée pants next to him, attempting to recover her breath after their marathon session of athletic sex. He’d feel bad for blowing off work and spending his Friday afternoon in the bedroom, but 2020’s been a shit year. He deserves something good, and making love to Katniss Everdeen is about as wonderful as it gets.

“Thanks, Covid.”

“Covid, huh?” he responds. “Not your man who just gave you the dicking down of your life? I’m wounded.”

“Dicking down… Lord,” she snorts. “So romantic.”

“Nothing’s too good for my lady.”

She smacks him lightly on his chest with the back of her hand, too exhausted from what they’d just done to pack any punch. “What I meant was that we’d already be an old married couple if this damn pandemic hadn’t happened. We can thank the delayed wedding for the great sex of the engaged.”

“I think, sweetheart, that we’d still be in the honeymoon phase and fucking like bunnies, so maybe I want to blame the pandemic for keeping us from having more sex.”

“I would die if we were having more sex. You’re insatiable.”

Peeta rolls over and leans down to kiss her. Brushing hair back from her sweaty forehead, he kisses the tip of her nose before brushing against her lips. “I’m madly in love with you, and I can’t get enough. I can’t wait to marry you.”

Katniss responds by opening her mouth and allowing him to sweep inside. They make out for several minutes, losing themselves in wet heat and breathy confessions and bared feelings. Peeta’s considering ramping things up again when Katniss ends their kiss and tucks her face into his neck. He’s in serious need of a shower.

“Why are we waiting, anyway?”

Peeta cuddles her against his chest and kisses the top of her head. “Why are we waiting for what?”

“To get married.”

“Well, I don’t know if you remember this, but we’re in the middle of a global pandemic. Destination weddings in the Caribbean don’t really work when there’s an international travel ban.”

“Well, yeah,” she sighs. “The dream wedding might not be in the cards, but maybe just getting married. I hate not being your wife. We should be seven months married by now, and there’s no end in sight to this thing. Do you really want to keep waiting? I don’t.”

“I think that depends,” he muses.

“On?”

“On whether or not we keep getting to have this amazing sex.”

“Peeta Mellark!” she screeches. “You are the absolute worst.”

When she attempts to wriggle away from him, he tickles her sides and laughs as she squirms against him. He ends up on top of her, holding her down and marking her neck with open-mouthed kisses.

“Would I still be the worst if I said we should get married next weekend?”

She freezes and blinks at him. “Are you serious?”

“As a global pandemic.”

“You’re okay without your family being there?”

“I hear there’s this thing called Zoom now. Or facetime. Or…I don’t know. A recording of it. Whatever. I really just want to be married to you. You’re right. I’m absolutely done waiting.”

“Then yes,” she breathes. “Yes, yes, yes. I do. Forever and always and twice on Tuesday.”

They sealed the deal with another kiss (and maybe a little bit more) before they turned their attention to planning their wedding. Again.

****

Peeta shifts from foot to foot and adjusts his tie for the hundredth time. He’s nervous, which is stupid, because he loves Katniss Everdeen with every fiber of his being. They’re madly in love, almost a fairy tale story, and they’ve lived together after a respectably appropriate engagement and a long-term relationship. There is no question they’ll make it, absolutely no doubt in his mind that they have what it takes. There’s no reason to be nervous, but he’s still anxious. It’s a pretty big day.

“You ready?”

Peeta turns to Judge Undersee, the man who’ll perform the ceremony, and nods. Following him out to the space between the trees, Peeta takes off his mask and shoves it in his pocket. Katniss and Peeta will be the only two without them, but they had decided it was important to see the other’s faces when they exchanged vows. Taking his place, Peeta blinks a few times at the riot of fall colors, the leaves ruffling in the breeze and occasionally dropping to flutter in the air and settle on the ground at his feet. The Caribbean’s got nothing on this.

Soft classical music wafts from a stereo, and he holds his breath. Katniss steps into sight, her dark hair tumbling over her shoulders under intricate braids on the crown of her head. The dress, a vintage cream lace gown she’d found in a thrift shop drapes over her frame, accentuating her breasts and hips in a way that heats his insides. She strips off her masks and beams at him, and he thinks his heart might explode. She tucks it under her bouquet, a colorful bunch of autumnal flowers they bought at the floral department in the grocery store the night before and tied with a spool of orange ribbon. She’s a vision, and he’s so grateful she wants to marry him more than desiring a perfect ceremony.

He hears the murmur of comments from those on the computer screen where their family and friends are gathered to watch them pledge their lives to each other. Prim is openly weeping while his mother has a pinched look on her face. His older brother has a sign that says, “I’m the hot one,” which caused him to chuckle when he first saw it, but now his eyes won’t leave the sight of his fiancée drifting toward him.

“You look beautiful,” he breathes when she stands before him. She reaches for him with her right hand, and they chuckle over her awkwardness with the flowers. They hadn’t thought about that part when they decided to do this without her sister attending. He’ll just take them when she needs both her hands to put his ring on him. It doesn’t matter, as long as they both have gold bands when the ceremony finishes.

Judge Undersee speaks, but Peeta doesn’t hear a thing. He’s too caught up in the moment. He takes in the feel of the sun warming his shoulder as it filters through the trees, the smell of the heat of a late fall afternoon, the sound of her voice as she recites her vows, the feel of his throat clogging with emotion so that he can barely get out the words promising to bind his life to hers. They exchange rings, shifting the flowers back and forth, and then he leans in, reaching for his wife and lowering his lips to hers.

They’ve kissed a million times, but this one… This one is something special. Their first as a married couple. He deepens it, and he can hear their family and friends cheering them on as they lose themselves in each other.

“I love you so much,” he says when they break apart, his eyes blurry with moisture. “Thank you for marrying me.”

“Thank you for being someone I want to marry,” she replies softly, and he knows exactly what she means. She’d been hurt too much before he’d met her, and it had taken months before she decided to give him a chance. He’d been stubborn and eventually broken through her reluctance to open herself up to someone, and it had been worth every frustration and wound he’d experienced to get to this moment.

He dropped his forehead to hers, closing his eyes and breathing in her scent, woodsy and feminine in a way that made his skin tingle. “You sure you don’t mind missing out on all the fanfare? No cake, no toasts, no dancing, no tossing the bouquet?”

“Too late now,” she teases and shakes her head. “No, I don’t mind. I’m your wife now, and I’m over the moon you’re my husband. Besides, you make great cakes. I expect one later this week.”

They need to address their friends and family soon, but that can wait. For now, the only thing he cares about is sharing this moment with Katniss. As he leans in for another kiss, the wind blows and a shower of leaves falls around them. It’s better than rice or birdseed or bubbles or anything else because it’s theirs. Thanks to Covid.

#everlark #everlark fanfiction #autumn #autumn 2020 #hutchhitched #submission #prompt

[nothisis-ridiculous]

Take Me Home Now: Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven: Dark and Dusty

Set after the events of ME3.

A rewrite. Ao3.

FemShepxKaidan

"Damnit, did Reynolds forget he took my watch again?" Jane heaved her stiff body away from the person desperately shaking her awake. Gods, she felt like hell. Take a hangover and add being run over by three buses filled with elcor.

"Jane, I wouldn't-," Roy's usually calm voice laced with fear, pleading with the stubborn woman to get up, "there's an emergency. I need you."

The building reverberated, dust wafting into the air in the aftermath of the sudden tremor. The woman sprung from her cot, scrambling through the hallways at breakneck speed. Her footing proved not to be so cooperative, but she held her pace. The rumble had come from the western parking lot, and the rest was slowly forming into a clearer picture, the hushed building, and the distant discharge of guns faint but persistent. Footsteps kept pace behind her, but his words faded into the pounding of her head and the blur of her singular purpose. Arriving in the parking lot out of breath finally drew the situation in a complete picture: they were under siege.

Jane slid into the concrete barrier where Silva rested the barrel of her sniper rifle, her silver eyes flicking over the human a minute later, "you look like shit."

"I've had worse days," she quipped, "what's going on?"

The Turian pulled in a long breath, "I don't know exactly, we got a report of armed assailants. I'm only here to stop them from getting in- Korvac wants you upstairs," the tilt of her head motioned both of them up the ramp.

"Jane, wait!' Roy called as they set up the ramp. The blue-eyed woman giving him a steely gaze, "your weapon?"

"Thank you," she mumbled, forgetting to grab a weapon was not her usual move.

"If you're too hurt-"

"I've had worse," Jane hissed coldly.

The LT gave up, but she felt his gaze on her back. He had more to say. Thankfully, it wasn't coming. The short but brisk trek to the top level of the parking structure drew out in silence. Both comfortable with focusing on the task at hand, the Turian leader waved them over. Directing Jane to look down the scope of the Sniper rifle he handed over to her. The alien was silent, gaze pinned in a westward direction.

She looked down the scope, finding the problem in short order. The familiar krogan, but now flanked in a small force of vorcha. The dull click of the safety-on weapon a very disappointing turn.

"I take it that is only the forward assault?"

"Yes," the Turian hummed, "we're getting reports of at least three other groups. One in each direction."

"Looks like old members of the Blood Pack."

Korvac nodded.

"Where are the varren?"

The structure shook again, "rigged to explode."

Jane handed the weapon to her silent superior, "we need to get all the civilians out, now."

"How? The bastard knows all the routes in and out."

A stand was the obvious answer. They knew they couldn't lose the building; several months' worth of food, clean water, and medical supplies couldn't be moved in time. The gardens and restored generators meant a sustainable future until ships could start rolling off the planet and out of the system. A restart meant a very uncertain future.

They all knew this time was coming. It was just too soon. All preparations, perhaps foolishly, were spent on improving their ease of life. Or more considerately, on the influx of refugees that sought out aid or shelter.

"Alright, Princesses, we can start fighting back now that the Krogan are here," Wrex taunted with misplaced enthusiasm, somethings never changed.

"Wrex," Korvac greeted with unexpected civility, giving a brief overview of the entire situation.

"I volunteer to head off Greenie," the two alien leaders looked at her curiously, "he has the biggest beef with me. If I keep him distracted, or better yet kill him, he can't use whatever knowledge he has of the building. The rest of you can focus on the fodder."

"That's supposing he hasn't given away all our secrets, and it's more than just vorcha; it's every opportunist he could round up," Korvac cautioned.

"Well, we lack time to make a better plan," but he made a good point, but at this time fucked was fucked.

"We can only hope those opportunists are too greedy to share information," Wrex chimed in, "plus this one knows how to make his blood boil."

"Has anyone started to round up the civilians?" Jane asked in Roy's direction.

"I-," the human stuttered.

"Reynolds, this is Recruit- yes." Jane radioed the first soldier she thought could handle the responsibility of gathering the noncombatants. Luckily he was already on the task, but Jane made sure to drill all relevant issues to assure success. Her short conversation and the two alien leaders discussing joint strategy coincided.

"Can you handle the western edge?" the Turian questioned after a long moment, "that could buy us some time. The other groups are still a bit further out."

"You aren't going alone," Roy broke from his stupor, "I'll join you."

"LT-"

"He's right, you need help. Take Silva and the squad at the ramp exit. We need you to slow them."

"How come she gets all the fun," the krogan mused, "fight hard."

"Aim for the head," Jane returned gently.

She picked at the shoddy chest piece that was several inches too big. At a time like this, she shouldn't be picky about such a thing, it was lucky to have a functioning piece of armour, but when one got used to custom and tailored armour, it was hard to go back. But how it already dug into her uncomfortably, it might be better not to have the thing at all. But it was the draw of having a working shield that made the risk worth it.

The most concerning issue was Roy's silence.

"LT," she cooed, "everything alright?"

He toyed with his assault rifle, cheeks puffing out, "this is serious, isn't it?"

Right, Roy hadn't experienced much in terms of combat; before the Reaper War he had seen none in his military days. This up-close, high-risk mission with a small squad was out of his foray, especially with the consequences of failing. Manning the perimeter and firing shots at assailants behind windows was a different ballgame from the full-fire combat.

"It's not too late to join the others," Jane was already miffed that a squad followed behind her; the hair-brained suicide mission felt like a better option. To see Silva and Roy tied up in it was a lead weight in her heart.

The man huffed again, and she reflexively looked down, braced for his angry retort. Instead, his arms pulled her in, wrapping around her tightly, a hand cradling the back of her head, "not now. We both know how important this is."

"No need to get all emotional, LT," she teased gently, working herself from his grip slowly the attention it brought both of them stopping the moment from lasting, "keep your head down and stay undercover. Adrenaline takes over the rest."

"I'm glad you know what you are doing," but he managed to smile, "I'll stop moping."

Jane tenderly nudged him, "I've seen lifelong soldiers piss themselves before their first battles, I think you're doing fine."

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

Varren were easy.

Not in the familiar way of sending the lot of them flying with a biotic blast of energy that tore through the pack in a single flick of her arm easy- but one headshot seemed to do the trick. Silva caught a few from behind her shoulder, sticking to her vantage point further downwind. Roy's assault rifle hit the explosive packs, wiping out several in one burst.

It was the vorcha crawling over the rubble and concrete barriers that had her worried. They took far more time and attention to deal with. Their innate regeneration meant missed shots becoming more costly, and the extra time needed to line up an accurate headshot took attention away from the swarming varren. And wherever that damned Krogan went.

The first turian went down, a missed varren sending shale and dust rocketing across the entrenched ramp.

Vorcha swarmed through the haze, the real heat of battle ensuing in the panic. Some resorted to hand-to-hand combat, while others fired into the fog. Screams echoed in the concrete chamber, and they were getting overrun quickly. Several more detonations followed, rocking the building and dust from where it rested.

"Hold fire!" Jane screamed.

Attempting something she had only ever seen but not done.

A pulsing blue shield of biotic energy enveloped the entrance to the parking structure. It wavered, shrinking a meter before it swelled back into its original size. Jane stood in the middle, the swirling energy coating her body.

The defenders didn't need to hear Shepard's strained command to return fire. Varren and Vorcha alike collided against the barrier, if they were not gunned down. The biotic force a shield against further explosions and, more importantly, the rubble from the blasts.

"Jane, Greenie just ahead," Silva radioed- the rest of her statement ignored in the blur of her focus shift and the human's collapsing against the concrete barrier.

Roy slid against his recruit once he needed to reload, "we could have used that firepower long ago, Recruit!"

"Heh," half of Jane smirked, blood streaking from her nostrils. Peering over the concrete sloppily to get a look at the green crested Krogan that approached. Her smile widened as Roy looked at her with growing horror.

Roy grabbed her face, his thumb tracing down the unreactive side of her cheek. The odd scars glimmered beneath the touch, her eyelid reacted slowly to his thumb hovering over it. His worry intensified as the woman snapped forward, her head colliding with his chest plate. Unconscious for only the moment her forehead met armour.

"We're the only ones left," the voice over the radio stated in a panic, a shot careening over their position.

"Don't do this," he murmured, grabbing the stubborn female's chin. Purple washed over her skin despite the tear leaving his eye.

After all his fuss, he was powerless against the otherwise harmless force of energy that sent him toppling into another barricade; Jane looked down at him from a shakey height, "I won't be the last again."

In a splitting snap, Jane was gone, transforming into a hurtling meteor of blue energy racing at the oncoming krogan. The mass of energy collided full force with the krogan, bashing him into the wall a resounding crack of bone and sinew followed but still, the alien managed to shove the woman to the ground. Jane rolled to avoid the shotgun blast, using the momentum to charge again. This time with only the force of anger and spite.

The shimmering purple and blue gathered into her palms, exploding nanoseconds later in a pulse of bright light that filled the structure. Rocking it aside more than any of the rigged varren could manage. Once the light settled, the recruit's form lay lifeless on the ground. The Krogan's teetering foot lifted, on course for her exposed skull slamming with the last of his might.

#fshenko #shenko #mass effect fanfiction #kaidan alenko #take me home #fanfic #mass effect spoilers

[littlebabycrybtch]

yknow part of my brain unfortunately kind of gets why ableism is being left behind by modern activists bc... so much of performative and hollow ‘activism’ today is all about being super fake and digestible for majorities, and the (better) side of it is being so ‘fuck with me and die’ that either way they might possibly shut up and leave you alone. so being like. ‘i want you to listen to me and respect me, but i have physical and/or mental vulnerabilities that make it harder for me to intimidate you into doing that’ feels like. such a doomed situation. you have less leverage to get ppl to respect you so fighting back is harder, but then when you ask the fake bitches to help your community out they ignore you bc you arent sexee funnee uncringe relatable enough and theyre way too used to the clique mentality to get their own help so they see you as unworthy of their time. so we’re just slowly being left tf behind. now ppl get cancelled and held accountable for the usage of literally every other slur but a celeb could probably use the r word IN their slur apology video and i truly think ppl would literally not even acknowledge it. i think if i said ‘you just used another slur dude’ ppl on twitter would be genuinely confused or fuckign accuse me of ‘’’’‘derailing’’’’’ the situation and bro like. hoh my god the co ncept. the fuckin thought of abled bitches ignoring their privilege bc of their other minority statuses and blatantly standing up for shit (usually in a way that benefits them the most) and then acting CONFUSED when we also request their help bc they are THAT ignorant abt us just makes me see red. especially bc disabled ppl are one of the Largest oppressed ‘minority’ groups, we can overlap with any other fucking minority. we exist in ALL of your communities, we ARE ‘relatable’ to you, we ARE trying to fight, we are struggling and you are leaving us behind. 

the r word holds so much fucking weight for us and noooobody is putting a stop to it anymore, i see it literally every single day now without Any backlash, and its EVERYWHERE. more and more boldfaced ableism is casually infiltrating leftist spaces. the systemic abuse and prejudice and violence and dehumanization behind it, this outdated medical term is not just a reminder and a product of its time, the connotations it created and ignorance behind it directly fueled and contributed to the forced imprisonment in asylums, the eugenics, and the oppression we ARE STILL EXPERIENCING TODAY. beyond the fact that yall truly forget america isnt the only place and the entire world has varying levels of how disabled people are legally treated, AMERICA STILL OPENLY OPRESSES THE DISABLED. remember when us gays got marriage rights and we were like ‘dont forget we still have shit to do’? wheelchair ramps and taking service animals on planes and $500 a fucking month to live on aint SHIT compared to what we still go through. WE LITERALLY STILL CANT GET MARRIED WITHOUT LOSING OUR BENEFITS. like. for fucks sake, the LEAST you ‘activists’ could be doing is CONDEMNING THE SLURS USED AGAINST US WITH AS MUCH SPEEDY EFFORT AS YOU PUT INTO CONDEMNING OTHER ONES!

#tw ableism

[kimjoongs]

against the current ; k.ys

pairing yeosang x reader

genre skater boy au, rock band au, fluff

word count 1.3k

warning(s) explicit language

taglist @yunwoo @toffee-hwa @atinykidult @s1ardusk @seongghwaa

dia’s note inspired by this edit i made, also thanks to ana for peer pressuring me into this :’) and anna for giving me the rock band wooyoung idea :’))

synopsis perhaps skater boy was a little bit in love with you. that’s okay because you were perhaps a little bit in love with him too.

The clock on your phone read 5:00 p.m. on the dot. Tucking the device back in the pocket of your hoodie (actually, it was his hoodie), you watched on with a fond smile, falling back to lean on the palms of your hands. 

The faint outline of Yeosang’s figure whizzed past you, wind tickling the exposed skin on your legs. Echoing down the empty, vast plane of the skatepark were the rattling sounds of the skateboard, wheels gliding along the chilled concrete. Their clickety-clackety sounds were a familiar comfort to you, reminiscent of a train chugging down the tracks—a beacon of nostalgia and a place that was like home to you.

He was like home to you.

Tugging the hood over your head, you hauled yourself up off the ground and made your way towards the metal railing, just next to the half-pipe. Yeosang paid you no mind, too focused on not eating shit as he went up the ramp, suspending himself in the air for a moment, before gracefully gliding back down and repeating the process over again.

You never got tired of watching him. In fact, the more you watched Yeosang skate the more entranced you were. Unlike him, you had no coordination on a board whatsoever; you were lucky to be able to just stand on the thing, let alone actually move along with it. So it was always a treat for you whenever you had the chance to witness Yeosang in his element, taking control of the skateboard and wielding it under his feet as if it were a weapon, streaking across metal railings and drifting on curved concrete. Other than the band, you’ve never seen Yeosang enjoy himself so much.

Speaking of which…

“Hey skater boy!” you called out. “Let’s go, you’re late!”

Yeosang paused, glancing over from where he stood atop the half-pipe. He flashed you an angelic smile, making your heart skip a beat as he came down, planting his feet firmly on the ground and stopping right in front of you. He tugged his red beanie off, beach blonde hair messily framing his flushed face. You reached over and gently brushed his bangs away with the sleeve of your—his—hoodie, laughing softly when Yeosang tilted his head up, booping his nose against the curve of your wrist.

“Have fun?” you asked, bringing your hand back down. 

“Yeah, thanks, I really...I really needed this,” he said breathlessly, bending down and picking the skateboard up, tucking it under his arm. With his other, he threw it around your shoulder and pulled you close, leading you out of the skatepark.

“Good, ‘cause now Wooyoung’s gonna chew my ass out for making you late,” you snorted.

“I mean, it’s quite a walk to the venue, and we’re never gonna get there quick enough if we just walk.” Yeosang shrugged nonchalantly, trying and failing to keep the rising smirk off his face. You raised an eyebrow, freezing in your tracks and stepping away from his hold.

“What are you implying?”

Yeosang’s smirk widened, eyes drifting down to the board in his hands, and that’s when it clicked. Immediately, you whipped around and began fast-walking down the street, ignoring your boyfriend’s mirthful laughter as he jogged to catch up with you.

“Oh, c’mon–”

“Yeosang, I am not riding that thing.”

“Why–”

You threw him a look over your shoulder, unamused at the bouts of giggles bursting through his lips. Yeosang wasn’t stupid—he knew the reason why, but that didn’t mean he didn’t enjoy seeing you squirm about it every now and then.

He finally caught up to you, steps slowing down as he grabbed onto your hand and slipping his fingers between yours. You pretended not to notice the way your skin flared up at the sudden gesture. Instead, you buried your face in the collar of the hoodie, relaxing as the familiar scent of lavender and sandalwood permeated your senses.

“I’ll hold your hand the whole time if it makes you feel better–ack!” Yeosang yelped when you firmly elbowed him in the side.

“Are you kidding me? I told you to be here by five, and it’s almost fifteen minutes past. Yeosang, I swear if you didn’t need your hands today I would’ve fucking broken them by now.” Wooyoung jabbed Yeosang’s chest with his finger, brows furrowed in frustration and lips downturned in a disappointed pout. His long, black hair was tied back into its usual ponytail, but loose strands were sticking out—most likely due to Wooyoung’s habit of running his hands through his hair. From where you sat on the leather couch, an amused snicker left your lips.

You regretted it almost instantly as Wooyoung’s attention was now brought on you, and you braced yourself.

“Y/n, don’t even get me started on–”

“Wooyoung,” Yunho sighed tiredly, coming up behind his fellow bandmate and placing his hand on Wooyoung’s shoulder. “We’re on in five, get ready. You can yell at them later.”

No sooner did the words leave Yunho’s lips came Jongho stumbling into the room, headset resting crookedly upon his face. 

“What are you all still doing here? The fans are waiting, let’s go!” He gestured hurriedly. 

The others quickly followed suit, each of them picking up their respective instruments; Wooyoung with his bass, Mingi and Yunho with their guitars, San with his mic (his keyboard was already set up on stage), and Yeosang with his drumsticks. You trailed along behind them, chest vibrating at the sheer noise coming from the crowd as you neared the stage. 

Once they were behind the wings, the boys went into a huddle, wrapping their arms around each other’s shoulders. You stayed back and gazed at them with a soft smile on your face, occasionally taking a peek through the curtains. Compared to other venues, this one was significantly less substantial in terms of space and audience number, but the screams and shouts of support from the crowd definitely rivaled those of bigger venues. 

The boys finished their huddle with a simple chant, and almost immediately, the stage lights dimmed, causing the audience to scream even louder (if that were even possible). You sat back on one of the crates, heart racing as you watched Wooyoung run on stage, followed by Mingi, Yunho, and San. But instead of going along with them, Yeosang swiftly turned around and strode over to you.

Your expression fell into one of confusion. “Yeosang, what are you–”

You didn’t get the chance to finish your sentence before Yeosang’s lips connected with yours. His free hand, the one that wasn’t holding his drumsticks, tenderly cupped your face, thumb gently stroking your cheek. The kiss was delicate and warm, like a single flutter of a butterfly’s wing on your lips, and it was just so like Yeosang you couldn’t help but tug him even closer.

“Hey Yeo! If you’re done sucking face, we need you out here! Don’t make me come back there and drag you,” Wooyoung announced into his mic, rolling his eyes as the other members glanced at each other, grinning widely.

A laugh bubbled out from your lips and you pulled away, resting your forehead against Yeosang’s. His eyes were open and peering intently into your own, causing your face to flare up once again. You pushed your hand against his chest.

“Go,” you urged. “Don’t give Wooyoung another reason to yell at us for.”

Yeosang didn’t move away for a second, but then he surged forward once more, planting a sweet kiss to your forehead. 

“Cheer for me, yeah?” he breathed.

“Always.”

#ateez #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #ateez au #ateez fluff #yeosang #yeosang scenarios #yeosang imagines #yeosang au #yeosang fluff