#those might be the right ship names who knows

[the-case-book-of-fanfiction]

Burns Like Rum

Ship: Astarion x female!human!reader/Tav

Summary: Astarion's hunger worsens every day and you don't have any blood to spare—but that doesn't stop you from inadvertently tempting him at every turn. Luckily for both of you, you've both got the same idea to cure him of his hunger.

Word Count: 7,840 words

Warnings: sexual content (18+), menstruating reader, hungry Astarion, mutual pining, possibly OOC dialogue, vampire feeding, soft Astarion, no particular timeline but Astarion hasn't told you anything yet

18+ Warnings: period sex, fingering, oral (f receiving), hand job, bite kink, blood kink, aftercare, use of the words cunt & cock

Note: For my usual readers, more Stranger Things content is coming, I promise! But this bitey boy currently owns my heart so I'm gonna show him some love :)

☟ Continue below the fold ☟

Astarion was hungry, and it was entirely your fault, for more than one reason.

The first was that, almost a month ago now, you had let Astarion drink from you. He'd been starving, and it didn't help that the others had given him strict rules about feeding, so when he flashed those sad but gorgeous red eyes at you, complaining of hunger, you'd all but gifted him your neck.

He'd practically drained you that night. You had been weak for days. Of course, the others, namely Gale and Lae'zel, were furious with you for letting him drink from you, but the sated, content look on his face after feeding made it all worth it to you. He'd become more comfortable around you after that, too, and you'd considered that an improvement.

It hadn't been all that bad, really, for him to sink his teeth into you and drink until your grip on him had grown so weak that he'd let up to check on you. In fact, it had been...rather pleasant. He'd been gentle, careful, his bite sharp but considerate. You knew then that you'd risk becoming anemic for a week just to feel the pleasure of his hand cradling your neck and head, his mouth against your neck, his tongue soothing the bite he'd left when he'd had his fill.

But in the weeks that followed, his hunger gradually returned, and with a vengeance. It was as if he'd never fed from you at all, suffering hunger pangs he hid from the others—but you noticed, recognizing them from the night he'd begged you to let him drink from you.

You'd offered him more of your blood since then, but he'd refused you every time. He could smell your guilt, your need to make him feel better simply because you felt responsible for his current pain.

"I won't accept blood from someone who feels obligated to give it to me," he'd said, and his tone made it difficult to tell if he was being snide or kind.

Sometimes, you simply didn't understand that man.

And then three days ago, you'd been injured in a fight. It was nothing fatal, the gash in your midsection missing any major muscles and not deep enough to jeopardize your organs, but it was bloody. You'd limped your way back to camp, your head swimming, the world around you growing darker around the edges with every step.

You'd fainted in Astarion's arms—although collapsed was a better word for it, according to Karlach—drenched in blood, some of which was yours and some of which that wasn't.

"You should have seen his face!" Karlach had laughed when you'd woken up the next morning, woozy but fine thanks to Shadowheart. The blood loss kept you off your feet for the day to recover, and Karlach had taken the time to visit you.

"What do you mean?" you asked, although you already had a good idea what might have happened after you passed out.

"You put him in a right pickle, collapsing on him like that, all covered in blood and losing more of it quickly," she said. "He didn't know what to do with you. It was— It was like he didn't want to drop you, but he really did want to drop you, because all he wanted to do was drink from you. Can't say as I blame him—he's not fed in weeks and you turn up with his next meal draining out of you." You hid your face in your hands with a groan. "Why'd you beeline for him anyway? Shadowheart's tent was just a few paces away!"

You glared at her through your fingers. "You know why I went to him, Karlach!" She, of all people, would understand. She had been the first person to find out that, as much as you flirted with them all, Astarion was the one you wanted.

"Well, obviously," she said, "but it didn't occur to you that he might...have an adverse reaction?"

Rolling your eyes, you snarked, "No, Karlach, it didn't, I was bleeding out and suffering from head trauma. I just...saw someone I trusted to keep me safe and ran to him."

She cocked her head to the side. "That's sweet, but stupid."

You snorted. "Yeah, I know—Shadowheart won't stop yelling at me for it."

You hadn't seen Astarion until that night, when the group of you had gathered at the campfire. It hadn't meant to be like that; you'd seen him and had wanted to talk to him, at least apologize for throwing your bloody body at him, but Shadowheart followed you closely to keep you safe and soon the others had gathered.

It had been like a very strange family dinner, made awkward by everyone dancing around exactly why you'd gone to Astarion, knowing a hungry vampire and fresh blood were not a good mix.

The final reason you were making his hunger unbearable made itself known at the end of the night, when it was just you, Astarion, and Shadowheart at the dying fire.

She must have caught sight of the way you kept looking at Astarion out of the corner of your eye, embarrassedly looking away or pretending to gaze into the trees behind him every time he caught you looking. She tapped your shoulder and told you she needed to get rest. The "you should, too" was implied, hanging in the air along with her worry about your healing.

"I'm fine, Shadowheart, really," you insisted. "I won't rip myself open again, I promise."

"I'll keep an eye on her," Astarion promised. "Nothing too...strenuous for her just yet." Something in his voice made you shiver.

She left the two of you alone. You looked first at the fire, then down at your hands, folded in your lap. Anywhere than at him.

You didn't even hear him move. You only knew he had when you felt him sit on the log beside you, one of his hands covering your own.

"Are you alright?" he asked, his voice soft. "I...am sorry I didn't visit you, it's just—"

"It's just that I threw myself at you when it looked like I'd taken a shower in blood and that made things a wee bit difficult?" you interrupted, the words spilling out before you had time to process that you were speaking. Embarrassed heat flushed through you instantly.

But Astarion only gave you that soft, slightly toothy smile. You drank it in, relishing his smile lines and the brief contentment on his face. "Something like that, yes," he said. "I was...worried I might hurt you if I saw you again and you still smelled so deliciously of your blood. I'm so hungry, darling, it's unbearable. All I wanted was to feast until there was nothing left of you, and I'd never forgive myself if I—"

"Stop." You held up your hand. "Please. I don't... Don't be so nice to me, it makes me feel like I'm on my deathbed."

Astarion laughed, throwing his head back. "I'd hardly call wanting to drain you nice, my love." Almost unconsciously, your gaze dipped to his exposed neck and you wondered idly what he would do if you were to bite him back.

Probably the strenuous activity Astarion had promised Shadowheart you wouldn't be doing.

He met your gaze, a sudden depth and seriousness in his crimson stare. "Stick with me, and you might soon be on your deathbed." Pointedly, he broke eye contact with you, letting his eyes drop first to your neck and then further down your body. You tingled, the feeling reminiscent of the anemia that had possessed your body in the hours and days after he'd drank from you.

You realized Astarion was waiting for a reaction from you, hoping for something more than your stunned silence. So you let your eyes drift across his body, resting on his mouth as you said, "Doesn't sound like a bad way to go out."

From the back of his throat came a sound that wasn't quite a growl or a groan, but somewhere in between, just as needy as either sound. "Don't tempt me, darling," he whispered. "I promised Shadowheart I'd keep you safe, and you certainly wouldn't be if I did everything I want."

Your heart skipped a beat. "Astarion..."

He closed his eyes, leaning toward you, releasing a tense breath. "Darling..."

"What if I want to tempt you?" You put your hand on his leg, sliding closer to him.

"Cheeky thing," he said, eyes opening in small slits. "But only when you're healed. I can still smell the blood on you." He sighed. "You have no idea how much restraint it takes not sink my teeth into that pretty neck of yours."

You frowned. "But I am healed," you said. "Just tender. Shadowheart wouldn't have let me leave her tent otherwise."

"I can't blame you for wanting me," Astarion teased, that familiar charm honeying his words, "but I've never been wrong." He cupped your cheek, his touch taking the bite out of his words. He offered you a small, sympathetic smile.

You put your hand to your abdomen, half-expecting to find that your wound had ripped open of its own accord. Your shirt and the bandage beneath it was dry—but a sudden twinge of pain, appearing only once it had been acknowledged, came from lower. You hissed.

Astarion sat up straighter. "What is it? Are you alright?"

"Shit. I think I've figured out why you still smell blood," you said through clenched teeth.

Astarion's eyes dipped to where your hand rested. "It's that time again already, is it?"

"It's early," you groaned. You stood slowly, regretting it instantly.

He tracked you as you moved, his gaze becoming dangerous and predatory. It was the look that had scared you when he drank from you, practically convincing you he wasn't going to stop. Still, his need for you burned through you like rum, its heat spreading through your belly.

"I didn't smell it before, not under all the blood you had on you," he said. His voice was deep, dark, dangerous. "But, oh, darling—I smell it now." He licked his lips and your stomach did flips that were neither pleasant or unpleasant. The hunger in his eyes was palpable

"I, ah, have to go. For your sake and mine. Um. So, uh, goodnight, Astarion. I...I'll see you when this is all over."

He stood up quickly. "Darling, do you need—" He cut himself off as you waved away his concern, crossing the camp to your own tent.

"No! Goodnight!" you called over your shoulder.

Astarion sighed. "...Night."

~❊~

You avoided Astarion like the plague. Well, perhaps not, because while you never wanted to see the disease, you were always on the lookout for your favorite vampire.

You caught glimpses of him through the open flaps of your tent, sauntering by with a swagger you found unfairly attractive. You saw him reading on his own when Shadowheart helped you changed your bandages, his handsome face fixed in concentration. A few hours later, you heard him arguing with Gale about the very same book, which had apparently gone missing, and you hated the flutter in your stomach at the growl in his angry voice.

"Stop that," Karlach said, glancing up at you as the pair of you cooked, Karlach helping you roast root vegetables evenly.

"Stop what?"

"Mooning over him," she said, jerking her head in Astarion's direction.

Your body flushed with heat. "I'm not—"

"You are, and we can all tell, and you should just get it over with, but only if you mean it."

You frowned, tearing your eyes away from the blessed sight that was Astarion basking in the sun. "Sorry, what?"

Karlach sighed. "If you sleep with him—" You spluttered. "—it had better be because you truly want him and not because you're bleeding."

You blinked at her. "Karlach, of course I want him, you've heard me talk about him before this!"

"I know, I know," she relented, "but I have a feeling there's more to our vampire than meets the eye." She glanced over at Astarion. "Just...be kind to him, dear. He's more fragile than he looks."

You followed her gaze over to him. He was stretching, his arms lifted high above his head, undoubtedly oblivious to the two of you watching him. Want and need bubbled up inside of you, both clamoring for Astarion, agreeing that he would fulfill them both. The deep-seated lust you'd had for him since he'd first put a knife to your neck burned even brighter as the breeze that had been kicking up dust all morning played with the silver hair curling around his ears.

His nostrils flared and you knew he'd smelled you. He looked over at you and Karlach and you froze. She waved cheerily, then frowned at you when you didn't move. You swallowed harshly and went back to removing the scales from the fish in your lap.

"He doesn't like not being around you either, you know," Karlach said, returning to the task at hand. "He's always looking at you when you're not looking. You're perfect for each other like that."

"I don't want to make this harder for him by being around him," you said, glancing back over at him. He was watching you as he poured himself a glass of wine. Had it been normal circumstances, when you weren't driving him insane simply by smelling like blood, you would have teased him for day-drinking. "He's already so hungry, I'd only make that worse. It was bad enough I threw myself at him covered in his favorite snack!"

Karlach snorted. The sound of a light laugh floated over to you and you looked up to find Astarion smirking into his goblet. He beckoned you over and your eyes grew wide.

"Excuse me for a moment, Karlach," you said, clearing your throat.

Karlach followed your gaze and giggled. "More than a moment, dear. I'll come back later to help you finish this." She left the log you'd been sharing and you waited until she was in her own tent again before you jumped to your feet and practically ran to Astarion.

"Hello, darling," he purred. "Care for a drink?"

"I could go for a little," you said.

Astarion smiled, that rakish charm summoning warmth that spread through your entire body. "I hope you like red," he said, and put his own goblet to your lips.

You held his gaze as you drank. You saw his nostrils flare, his pupils growing large. You knew he could hear how your heart was racing, could smell your arousal mixing with your blood.

He pulled the goblet away from your lips and took another swig. You licked the red wine off your lower lip and heard the breath catch in his chest.

"You're starving, aren't you?"

"You have no idea," he whispered.

"I might," you said. "Thought I'd say it's a hunger of a different kind."

Astarion's smirk was so wide you could see his fangs clearly. "Oh, really, darling?"

You nodded, taking a step closer to him. He breathed in deeply. "We could help each other, you know. Satiate our hungers."

His eyes grew dark, trained on yours. "Is that so?" He raised his hand, nearly brushing your cheek, but stopped himself just before he touched you. "You'd let me soothe your pain by..." His gaze dropped to your waistline. "...eating from you?"

A tremor passed through you at the sound of his voice, deeper than you'd ever heard it, laced with a danger and a seduction you were embarrassed to find attractive. Your body was tuned to it, his words seeming to drop like a stone from your ears to your core, spreading fire through your veins and melting your organs.

Astarion took a small step closer to you and took your chin in three gentle fingers, tilting your head up toward him. For a moment, you thought he might kiss you then and there. "I'm going to need an answer, darling."

"Yes." You couldn't get the word out fast enough. It came out breathy, nearly lost on the wind still swirling between you.

He chuckled. "Well, then. You asked for it." He dropped the hand on your chin back to his side. "Once everyone else is asleep, come find me. We'll find a quiet place and...have a little fun."

~❊~

Of all the nights, it had to be this one where everyone came to check on you before they went to sleep. Thanks to Astarion avoiding you like the plague when the two of you had become inseparable, your monthly bleed had become public knowledge. So practically everyone in camp came to you with solutions you declined, claiming to feel fine, even though your pain had worsened over the course of the day.

You watched Astarion slink off into the forest after the sun had gone down and waited until the others were sequestered in their tents, nearly an hour later, to pull your boots back on, stand on shaky feet, and follow the path you assumed he'd taken.

You had started to believe you'd taken a wrong turn somewhere when you heard his cool voice from behind you: "There you are. I've been waiting."

Astarion stepped out of the shadows. He ran his gaze over you, observing your slightly hunched stance, your hand on your lower abdomen. Your shoulders relaxed at the sight of him; he looked softer in the moonlight. The silver light fell across his curls and the statuesque panes of his face, somehow making that face that was so gaunt with hunger unbelievably beautiful.

He looked like a poet or a god, even in just the simple shirt he insisted on wearing around camp instead of the finer silks you knew he carried with him. Or perhaps it was the simplicity that made him so godly. You couldn't tell.

A frown graced his brow. "The pain is worse now, isn't it?"

You nodded. "Just a bit."

Astarion left the small hill he stood on and came closer to you. He offered you his hand. "Come on, dear, let me make you feel better."

You let him guide you away from the path you had taken and into a small clearing just a few feet away, conveniently hidden by thickets, trees, and tall grass. He stood aside, letting you take it in for a moment, as if waiting for your approval of the place. You looked down at the mossy ground and decided it would be soft enough.

"Well, this is nice," you said, seconds before you heard fabric rustling. You turned and blinked rapidly at what you saw: Astarion, his shirt now off and in his hands. You watched him lay it down where the ground was most level. Your breath caught horribly in your throat at the sight of the scar covering his back. You fought back the urge to ask, knowing it would only piss him off.

He turned back to you with a smile. "Your bed for the evening, my love," he said, gesturing to it.

"Oh, Astarion, I can't, I don't want to get blood on your shirt. What would the others—"

Astarion cupped your face in one hand. "The others will assume I hunted something and got messy," he said. "And I'll enjoy your scent while I have it."

Flutters in your stomach nearly brought you to your knees. You looked up at him, drawing in a tiny breath, and brought your hand up to hold the wrist that cradled your cheek.

"Please," you whispered, unsure of exactly what you were begging for but knowing what you wanted.

"Promise me you'll tell me if...I'm too much," Astarion said, and you got the sense he'd changed what he was going to say.

You nodded, whispering your promise, and wound your free hand into the hair at the nape of his neck, standing on your tiptoes to push your lips to his.

It was a messy first kiss. It was little more than teeth and spit, but it felt like heaven anyway, because his free arm was winding around your waist and pressing your bodies together, his leg sliding between yours. Bliss spread through you, starting at your core.

Astarion pulled away from you. "Someone's eager, isn't she?"

You whimpered and he stifled it with another kiss, softer than the first. He was gentle, more than you'd expected from a starving man. He cupped the back of your head and your hand dropped to his hip. You opened your mouth to him and reveled in the feeling of his tongue sliding against yours. He made a soft sound of satisfaction and pushed his leg up against your clothed core. You moaned loudly, your grip on him tightening. Need flooded you and your hips pushed down on his leg, finding relief in the pressure.

The two of you pressed your foreheads together, breathing heavily.

"Shh, darling, not too loud. You don't want the others to come investigate, do you?" His cheeky tone suggested he would love it if the others found the two of you like this—or, perhaps, further along.

You wrapped both arms around his neck and buried your head into his shoulder, heat burning through you, a mix of embarrassment and pleasure. You felt like there was a pendulum inside you, swinging constantly between wanting to slow down, afraid of coming off as too eager, and desperately needing him to get to it.

Astarion chuckled. "Don't hide, love." He smoothed his hand over your hair. "You do trust me, don't you?"

You kissed his shoulder and heard his breath catch. "With my life, Astarion."

"Are you ready?"

You nodded and he walked you over to his shirt and helped you to sit on it. He watched you lay down, his gaze falling your exposed neck. There was something more than hunger in his eyes; it made your breathing hitch.

Astarion crawled over you and placed his hand underneath your head before he kissed you. You draped your arm over his shoulders, holding him close to you, enjoying the soft touch of his lips against yours. It was chaste, as were the next few that followed it in quick succession, one after the other.

One hand slid down your body and stopped at the hem of your trousers. He tugged at the shirt tucked into them. "Darling? May I?"

"Please do," you said.

"Arms up."

He pulled the fabric over your head and tossed it to the side. He looked down at your torso from where he straddled your hips. His hands skimmed over you and he leaned down, pressing more gentle kisses to your neck and collarbones. Your body tingled with remembrance, practically yearning to feel his fangs sink into your neck, to feel your blood leave you with a burning that felt like intoxication.

"Astarion." His name was a breathy cry on your lips, and you saw how much he liked the sound of it when he looked up at you, a smile curving onto the lips still pressed to your skin.

"Yes, dear?"

You gently coaxed him back up to you with your hand on his chin. "Let me kiss you."

He smiled, brighter than the moonlight falling around you, and you pressed your mouth to his. He hummed happily into your mouth, a pleasant sensation that made you reluctant to break the kiss. But you did, kissing along his jaw and down his neck instead. You nipped gently at his neck, pulling a surprised laugh from him.

"Really, darling? Biting the vampire?" Astarion's eyes were sparkling with amusement. His face had relaxed into an easy smile. It was a good look on him; you liked it.

You giggled and placed another kiss over the bite. The pair of you rolled onto your sides and you peppered his chest with kisses, your arm wrapped loosely around his waist. You went back up to his neck and sucked lightly.

"So much for the others not knowing," he teased.

You looked at him through your lashes. "What if I want them to know?"

"Cheeky little thing," he whispered, dragging a finger down the side of your face. "As much as I love this—and believe me, I do love this—I can't wait any longer. I'm starving, darling. Let me taste you. Please."

Slightly subdued, you rolled onto your back. "Alright," you whispered, your chest tightening in anticipation.

Astarion climbed on top of you again. He undid the laces at the front of your trousers and slipped his hand inside them, moving slowly and keeping his eyes locked on yours.

The moment two of his fingers slid between your wet folds, your eyes fluttered shut and a happy sigh slipped from your lips.

"There she is," he whispered, his eyes half-lidded, as he worked you gently and slowly. You felt the blood and arousal gather on his fingers as he grew closer to your entrance. He dragged them back up to your clit and rubbed in a slow circle. You gasped, arching into his touch. Astarion giggled. "Oh, you like that, don't you?"

You wriggled underneath him, trying everything in your power to get more of his touch. He smiled down at you, kissing your cheek and cooing softly at you. If he spoke words, you didn't hear them, too lost in the pleasure he easily, skillfully, brought to you.

Without warning, Astarion plunged both fingers into your entrance. You moaned, grabbing at his hair. He chuckled, curling his fingers inside you. Whimpers slipped past your lips; you couldn't have controlled them if you tried, but you were by no means trying. His smile grew with every sound you made, and you wanted nothing more than to see that smile.

Just as suddenly as he'd pushed his fingers in, he pulled them out. You whined instantly but he shushed you and removed his hand from your pants. A small streak of blood was left on the skin of your stomach as he raised his hand to his mouth. You watched raptly as he licked your blood from his fingers, never once breaking eye contact with you.

He wasn't even touching you and the fire in your belly grew at the sight.

Astarion moaned softly around his fingers. You watched his deft tongue catch every drop of blood, thinned by your arousal, from his hand. He whispered your name in a whine and you let go of a long breath.

Once he'd licked his fingers clean, he bent down and yanked your trousers off your legs. You spread them automatically and he put one leg between them. He pulled off your undergarments and sat back, admiring your naked body with a satisfied smirk.

"Look at you," he whispered.

The need for him to touch you won out over the desire for him to keep staring at you. "Astarion." His name was a loud whine, emphasized by your writhing hips.

He chucked. "Needy girl." His hand returned to your cunt, his palm applying pressure to your clit while his fingers toyed with your bloody folds. His eyes practically rolled into the back of his head, the smell of blood so heady even you could smell it.

He teased your entrance for a moment and pulled his fingers back up, the tips of them coated in thick blood that looked black in the night. He sucked it from his fingers with a toothy smile, his fangs peeking out over his bottom lip.

You pushed your hips up enough to catch his eye. "Please," you whimpered.

"Alright, love, alright," he said. He put his hand back and slipped his fingers back inside you. Relief curled through you—as did his fingers. "I'll starve myself a bit longer for your pleasure."

You cupped his neck and brought his face to yours and kissed him fiercely. He made a surprised but pleased sound into your mouth and quickened his pace. You gasped against his lips and he ducked his head to your neck, kissing you quickly with every curl of his fingers.

You twisted your fingers through his hair, rapidly kissing the top of his head, pushing your hips up into his hand. He chuckled, his breath ghosting over your skin and raising goosebumps. You shuddered in his arms.

"I've got you," he murmured, sucking a light mark into your neck. You felt his teeth prick you and saw the shudder that passed through his body at the tiny droplets of blood that appeared.

He pulled away from your neck and curled his fingers just so. You groaned.

"Astarion!" you cried, throwing your head back.

He grinned and quickened his pace. You sucked in a deep breath, fighting back tears of pleasure.

"Let go, darling," he whispered. "I've got you."

Astarion looked back down at your neck. He locked eyes with you as he pressed his tongue to your skin, slowly licking up the droplets as they began to run down your neck. The combination of his intense stare and the movement of his fingers was all you needed; with a loud cry, you came on his fingers, your walls clenching so hard around him he could hardly keep moving them.

He chuckled. "That's it, dear, that's it." He cooed softly, helping you through it with his voice, his soft touch, and gentle kisses to your lips.

You were breathing hard when he finally pulled his fingers out of you. You whimpered at the slight pain but realized your cramps had all but disappeared.

Judging by the state of his hand, you didn't want to know how bloody his shirt was. It looked as though he'd reached into someone's chest and ripped their heart out; his hand was drenched and rivulets of blood ran all the way down to his elbow.

Astarion giggled at the sight while you burned with embarrassment. "Well, well, well. Someone's happy, isn't she?"

"So are you," you said, nodding to the bulge in his pants.

He grinned. "Well, what did you expect? You were quite vocal, my needy little thing." His eyes drifted back down to your cunt, lust curling through his gaze. "Tight and wet and utterly desperate for me."

He licked a stripe up his hand, his eyes fluttering shut. "Oh, darling, you taste good." He sucked your blood off of every finger, pleasure sliding over his face.

You smiled. "There's more where that came from."

Astarion raised one perfect brow. "Can you handle another little death?" he teased.

You nodded. "I can take a few more."

He chuckled and groaned at the same time. "Oh, my love, don't make promises you can't keep."

You met his gaze as he finished cleaning off his hand. "Believe me, I can keep it."

The vampire grinned. "Very well, then. I'll eat good tonight."

He kissed you chastely as he put his hand between your legs again.

Astarion brought you pleasure unlike anything you'd ever felt before as his fingers slid over your blood-slick skin, teasing your folds and entrance with a smirk, often just barely inserting the tip of his finger before pulling it out again and tracing over your clit and smearing blood across your skin. He kissed and sucked on your breasts, leaving darkening bruises and tiny scratches from his teeth, licking up the tiny beads of blood that sprung from each nick. He kissed along the line of scarring and stitches you had gotten from your injury, fading fast but still a reminder of what had gotten you on your back for him in the first place. Now that he'd eaten a little, he was intently focused on bringing you to the edge and pulling you back, again and again and again.

He worked another orgasm out of you and was on his way to coaxing out the third when you stopped him.

"Is it too much?" he asked, frowning. His unbloodied hand moved to rest on your hip, his thumb smoothing over your skin. His eyes searched your face, looking for anything to tell him why you'd stopped him.

You shook your head. "I need more, Astarion," you gasped, slurring his name into Astari. The unintended nickname made him blush. "I need more of you. Please. Please."

The smile returned to his face, cockier than before. "Oh, darling. I need more of you, too," he said, looking into your cunt and licking his lips. "I could just eat you up."

You spread your legs wider. He settled between them. "Please do."

He breathed in deep and his eyes practically rolled back into his head. "You're going to be the death of me— Ah. Well, you would be, if I was alive."

You frowned. "Would this even be happening if you were alive?"

Astarion thought for a moment. "Let's not think about the logistics," he decided and licked the drying blood from his fingers off your abdomen. Your body trembled. He lifted your legs over his shoulders. You squeaked and smiled at him.

"Lay back," he whispered. You obliged him.

Wet warmth touched your skin just above your clit and you glanced down at him, watching him slowly lick the drying blood from your skin. He kissed your skin as he cleaned it, leaving you covered in slowly darkening bruises.

You stared at the stars as he pressed a soft first kiss to your clit. You let out a slow breath and he began to suck, his lips closing around it, his tongue licking light stripes.

You pushed your hips against his mouth. "Circles," you whispered.

"As you wish," he said, his breath fanning over your cunt and making you tremble. He went back to his feast, licking in circles this time, and you let out a soft whimper. You reached down and he reached up, lacing your fingers together and squeezing your hand. You squeezed back.

He moved further down until his nose bumped your clit and his lips found your entrance. He moaned, the sound deep and guttural, at the taste of your blood. He lapped at your entrance, his tongue sweeping up the blood as soon as it collected there. You shuddered, your breaths coming in heaves.

Astarion kissed your entrance once before he dove in, pushing his tongue into your cunt. You gasped and he laughed and buried his face in you.

Through the pleasure, you wondered dimly how he was breathing (did he, as a vampire, need to breathe?), but the thought was pushed away the moment his splayed fingers on your hip dug into your flesh and pulled you even closer to his mouth.

The sounds you were making were obscene: your moans were loud and coarse, and your cunt squelched lewdly as he drank your blood and arousal. You felt filthy, aware that the mix was running down your legs and buttocks but knowing the vampire eating you out was enjoying you too much to care.

Astarion himself was quite vocal, moaning into you and making you shiver. He whimpered, whined, groaned, and keened, growing louder with every swallow of blood. He alternated between watching you writhe and squeezing his eyes shut in pleasure.

You watched his hand slide from your hip to his bulge. He palmed himself through his trousers, hissing in pleasure, and the sight was enough to send you over the edge for a third time.

But Astarion didn't let up. He lapped at you, sucking so harshly your pleasure bordered pain, until your legs stopped shaking and your breathing evened out.

He lifted his head with a grin. "How do I look?"

You looked at him and started laughing. He was the smiliest you had ever seen him, his eyes practically glowing, and the lower half of his face was covered in your blood. His teeth were stained red and sticky blood dripped slowly from his fangs. It ran down his chin in rivulets and splatters dotted his lower cheeks like freckles. Some of it was even in his hair.

"You're ridiculous," you giggled. "And a messy eater."

He snorted. "Excuse you!"

"It's all over your face!"

He sat up with a grin, licking his lips. "You mean you are all over my face."

Satisfaction curled through you. "Yes," you said, reaching for him. He took your hand again. "Yes I am."

He wiped his face with his hand and licked it clean once again. You reached up and wiped some off on your thumb, then held it out to him. He took your thumb into his mouth and sucked. Your heart stopped beating.

"Feeling better?" he asked you, lightly placing his palm over your abdomen, applying a little pressure, and rubbing gentle circles.

"Much better," you said. "Thank you. But, ah..." Your gaze drifted from his beautiful, if slightly pink, face and down to his bulge. It was just as, if not more, prominent now that he'd gone down on you. "What about you?"

Astarion smirked. "I like your enthusiasm, but don't worry about me. Not tonight, darling."

You frowned. "Why not? What if I want you inside of me?" You walked two fingers up his leg and slowly covered his crotch with your palm. When he didn't protest and his eyes fluttered shut, you gave him a gentle squeeze. He let out a soft moan through closed lips and tilted his head back. You kissed the column of his neck and bit down gently. You sucked—hard—and a rumbling moan came from his chest.

"Because," he said finally, drawing in a ragged breath. "Because that would be a terrible waste of your precious blood." He looked at you with half-lidded eyes. "When this is over, I promise you, you can have as much of me as you want." He pushed his hips into your hand and you gave him another gentle squeeze. He gasped.

You nuzzled into him and his arm wrapped around your shoulders, holding you there. "And what if I want all of you?"

The question hung in the air. He looked at you for a long time and suddenly you saw the fragility Karlach had mentioned this afternoon, which felt like years ago instead of mere hours. You reached up to cup his cheek and, though you were stark naked, the sexual desire in the air seemed to have disappeared.

"I want all of you, Astari," you whispered. The nickname made his eyes grow wide. "All of you, in every way, for as long as possible. If you'll let me. If you want me, too."

He whimpered, and the sound was broken. You hated hearing that pain coming from him. "I want you, I do, I just..." He closed his eyes and you were suddenly very sure there was a darkness, a secret, he was trying to hide from you. You were certain it had to do with his vampiric master he'd so often complained about. "I'll try, my darling, I'll try for you."

You sat up on your knees and cupped his face in both hands and kissed him. You didn't break the kiss once as you pressed your body against his and held him tightly. You felt the scar on his back and wanted to ask but didn't, letting him keep his secrets for now.

His arms came around you, cradling your back and holding you tight to him. The kiss became a long-lasting hug, the both of you burying your heads in each other's shoulders until Astarion pulled away from you, a smile on his face. You returned that smile and sat back on your heels.

His eyes trailed over your body again. There was a note of nervousness in his voice as he asked, "Darling, would you mind...touching me again? I could use some relief."

You grinned. "Of course, my love. All you had to do was ask."

Relief crossed his face. He leaned back as you trailed your hand from his shoulder, down his chest, and back to his bulge. You tipped his head back with your free hand and kissed his neck while you rubbed him. He pushed his hips into your hand, sighing blissfully, and your hand was in his trousers in seconds. He grew loud, thrusting his cock into your hand with a power that surprised you.

"Take what you need," you told him, your voice hushed, your lips directly next to his ear. "Help me give you what you want."

He whimpered, your name a broken cry from his lips, and he cuddled into you as he came. He buried his head into your neck, hiding his eyes and barely holding back grunts. As his thrusts grew weaker and you slowed your hand on him, you felt hot tears on your neck and wondered what this poor man had been through that he hadn't yet told you.

You removed your hand from his pants and he immediately wrapped you in another hug, one strong enough to knock you down and knock the breath of you. You held him as tightly as he held you.

When Astarion at last pulled away from you, his tears had stopped but his eyes still shone with them. He kissed you softly.

"Thank you," he whispered. "I... Thank you."

You brushed some of his hair from his face. "What's wrong?"

He shook his head. "Nothing. You were... It's just that no one has cared about me during sex in a very long time and...you did. So...thank you."

You took his hand and squeezed it. "Oh, Astarion," you cooed. "I always care about you. Like this or otherwise. You could stop this right now—or before it even began—and I wouldn't have stopped caring about you."

He smiled. "Oh, darling. I love the sentiment, but I'm not done with you yet."

Astarion kissed down your body and laid between your legs again. He licked another stripe up your cunt and you saw the coating of blood on his tongue before he swallowed. "Shall we try for a fourth? Or perhaps even a fifth?" He raised his brow, leaving the decision up to you.

You laid back. "We'll try for as many as you'd like," you said.

He bared his teeth in a feral grin. "All night it is!"

~❊~

You woke up the next morning sore and alone and with very little sleep.

Astarion had been relentless and stopped only when you simply couldn't take it anymore and he was practically drunk on your blood—all without making you bloodless and woozy. When you had finished for the final time, he had cleaned you up, helped you back into your clothes, picked up his own shirt, and walked you back to camp. He was so gentle that you didn't even mind the teasing about how you limped.

Dawn hadn't been far off as you each went back to your tents after exchanging a final, solid kiss. So you woke to the sound of everyone else beginning their day just a few hours later.

You felt the soreness in your core before you even moved. Biting back a sigh and not regretting it one bit as you pictured Astarion's happy, bloody face, you rolled over and hoped your recent injury would be enough for the others to let you sleep in.

You were wrong.

Shadowheart opened your tent a few minutes later with a urgency that made you jump.

"What? What's wrong?" you asked, blinking blearily in the bright sunlight.

"Are you alright? You never sleep in, you're always up making breakfast!"

You groaned. "Is that it? Are you just hungry?"

She peered at you. "Are you hurt? Did your wound reopen?"

"What? No! I'm fine, I'm just tired, that's all! I have lost a lot of blood recently, in case you forgot."

She sighed. "Oh. Alright. Well, just know the others are worried, too—Astarion especially."

You remembered how he'd checked in on you last night and had asked if he'd hurt you at all when you'd returned to camp and wondered if you had worried him by sleeping in. Suddenly you were grateful the others could chalk it up to his not-so-secret crush on you.

You dressed and hid the light bruises on your neck and collarbones in a high-collared shirt. You only noticed you were walking with a slight limp still after you'd left your tent and made your way across camp.

Karlach called your name and was at your side immediately. "You're limping! Are you hurt? Do you need me to fetch Shadowheart?"

You blinked at her. "What? No. I'm fine!"

"You don't look fine," Gale said, a few feet away, looking up from the book he'd been engrossed in for days. "Did you hurt your leg the other day? Or have your stitches ripped?"

"My, my," said a suave voice behind you. You turned and found Astarion grinning like a cat. "You do have quite the limp, there, darling. Are you sure you're alright?"

You huffed at him, your body remembering his touch immediately, his ghostly hands sliding across your skin. "I'm fine, I promise. Now hush and someone help me make breakfast."

Both Karlach and Astarion sat with you, Astarion very close to you and giving you a smile you couldn't help but return. Karlach stared at Astarion like he'd grown two heads, her gaze flickering between the two of you. She gasped very suddenly.

"Not a word," you hissed at her, knowing she'd figured it out.

Astarion smirked.

"And nothing from you, either," you added. "You're the reason I'm walking like this, you bastard."

He smiled sweetly at you, catching the fondness in the words. "And I gladly will be again." He took your hand and lifted it to his mouth, kissing it. Your eyes grew wide.

Karlach squeaked.

"You know nothing," you told her. "At least for a little while."

"Yes," Astarion agreed. "At the very least, tell Shadowheart nothing—I broke my promise to her to keep our dear girl from doing any strenuous activity."

You turned red and Karlach groaned, "Not before breakfast, please!"

Astarion opened his mouth—undoubtedly to say something about how you were technically his breakfast, based on the hour you'd returned to camp—but you moved quicker than he could speak. You grabbed him by the collar and yanked him toward you, kissing him heartily to shut him up.

A heavy silence settled over camp. You cracked one eye open and found the rest of your companions staring at the pair of you, mouths agape and eyes wide.

"Oops," Astarion muttered, sounding rather pleased.

You cleared your throat. "I, ah, I've been meaning to tell you all. Honestly."

Gale heaved a sigh. "How much do I owe you, Wyll?"

Your jaw dropped open. "You placed bets?!"

"Alright, you bloodsucker," Wyll said, holding his hand out and waiting for his payment from Gale. "You win."

"Yes," Astarion said, and you expected him to be wearing a smirk infused with his charm, his triumphant eyes on the others. But when you turned to him, he was staring at you, a dopey smile fixed on his face. "Yes, I did."

☞ ❊ ☜

Baldur's Gate 3 // Astarion Acunin

part 2 (Sweet Like Wine) {here}!

Taglist: {comment and let me know if you'd like to be added to the Astarion taglist!}

#astarion #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 #astarion bg3 #astarion fic #astarion smut #neil newbon #d&d #dnd #astarion baldurs gate #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion romance #astarion my beloved #neil newbon astarion #astarion neil newbon #vampire #vampire dnd #dnd game #bg3 gale #karlach #shadowheart #laezel #bg3 wyll #bg3 #bg3 astarion #astarion x you #astarion x y/n #astarion ancunin #case’s fic

[physalian]

What No One Tells You About Writing Fantasy

Every author has their preferred genres. I love fantasy and sci-fi, but began with historical fiction. I hated all the research that historical fiction demands and thought, if I build my own world, no research required.

Boy, was I wrong.

So to anyone dipping their toe into fantasy/sci-fi, here’s seven things I wish I knew about the genres before I committed to writing for them.

1. You still have to research. Everything.

If you want any of your fantasy battle sequences, or your space ships, or your droids and robots, or your fictional government and fictional politics to read at all believable.

In sci-fi, you research astronomy, robotics, politics, political science, history, engineering, anthropology. In fantasy, you have to research historical battle tactics, geography, real-world mythology, folklore, and fairytales, and much of it overlaps with science fiction.

I say you *have to* assuming you want your work to be original and unique and stand out from the crowd. Fanfic writers put in the research for a 30k word smut fic, you can and will have to research for your original work.

2. Naming everything gets exhausting

I hate coming up with new names, especially when I write worlds and places divorced from Earthly customs and can’t rely on Earthly naming conventions. You have to name all your characters, all your towns, villages, cities, realms, kingdoms, planets, galaxies, star systems.

You have to name your rebel faction, your imperial government, significant battles. Your spaceships, your fantasy companies and organizations, your magic system, made-up MacGuffins, androids, computer programs. The list goes on and on and on.

And you have to do it all without it sounding and reading ridiculous and unpronounceable, or racist. Your fantasy realms have to have believable naming patterns. It. Gets. Exhausting.

3. It will never read like you’re watching a movie

Do you know how fast movies can cut between scenes? Movies can balance five plotlines at once all converging with rapid edits, without losing their audience. Sometimes single lines of dialogue, or single wordless shots are all a scene gets before it cuts. If you try to replicate that by head-hopping around, you will make a mess.

It’s perfectly fine to write like you’re watching a movie, but you can’t rely on visual tricks to get your point across when all you have is text on a page – like slow mo, lens flares, epically lit cinematic shots, or the aforementioned rapid edits.

It doesn’t have to, nor should it, look like a movie. Books existed long before film, so don’t let yourself get caught up in how ~cinematic~ it may or may not look.

4. Your space opera will be compared to Star Wars and Star Trek

And your fairy epic will be compared to Tinkerbell, your vampires to Twilight, your zombies to The Walking Dead, Shaun of the Dead, World War Z. Your wizards and witches and any whisper of a fantasy school for fantasy children will be compared to Harry Potter. Your high fantasy adventure will be compared to Lord of the Rings.

You can’t avoid it, but you can avoid doing it to yourself. When people ask about your book, let them say “oh, you mean like Star Wars” to which you then can say, kind of, except XYZ happens in my book. These IPs will never fade from the public consciousness, not while you exist to read this post, at least, but Harry Potter isn’t the only urban fantasy out there. Lord of the Rings isn’t the only high fantasy. Star Wars isn’t the only space opera.

Yours will be on the shelves right next to them, soon enough, and who knows? You might dethrone them.

5. Your world-building is an iceberg, and your book is the tip

I don’t pay for any of those programs that help you organize your book and mythos. I write exclusively on Apple Notes, MS Word, and Google Suite (and all are free to me). I have folders on Apple Notes with more words inside them than the books they’re written for.

If you try to cram an entire college textbook’s worth of content into your novel, you will have left zero room for actual story. The same goes for all the research you did, all the hours slaving away for just a few details and strings of dialogue.

There’s a balance, no matter how dense your story is. If you really want to include all those extra details, slap some appendices at the end. Commission some maps.

6. The gatekeeping for fantasy and sci-fi is still very real

Pen names and pseudonyms exist for a reason. A female author writing fantasy that isn’t just a backdrop for romance? You have a harder battle ahead of you than your male counterparts, at least in the US. And even then, your female protagonist will be scrutinized and torn apart.

She’ll either be too girly or not girly enough, too sexy, or not sexy enough. She’ll be called a Mary Sue, a radical feminist mouthpiece, some woke propaganda. Every action she takes will be criticized as unrealistic and if she has fans who are girls, they will be mocked, too.

If you have queer characters, characters of color, they won’t be good enough, they won’t please everyone, and someone will still call you a bigot. A lot of someones will still call you a bigot.

Do your due diligence and hire your army of sensitivity readers and listen to them, but you cannot please everyone, so might as well write to please yourself. You’re the one who will have to read it a thousand times until it’s published.

7. Your “original” idea has been done before, and that’s okay

Stories have been told since before language evolved. The sum of the parts of your novel may be original, but even then, it’s colored by the media you’ve consumed. And that’s okay!

How many Cinderella stories are there? How many high fantasies? How many books about werewolves and witches and vampires? Gods and goddesses and celestial beings? Fairies and dragons and trolls? Aliens, robots, alien robots? Romeo and Juliette? Superheroes and mutants?

Zombies may be the avenue through which you tell your story, but it’s not *just* about zombies, is it? It’s about the characters who battle them, the endurance of the human spirit, or the end of an era, the death of a nation. So don’t get discouraged, everyone before you and everyone after will have written someone on the backs of what came before and it still feels new.

#writing advice #writing resources #writing tips #writing tools #writing a book #fantasy #scifi #writeblr

[hoony2k]

WE DATING FR?

How could they react around idol!you when no one knows about the relationship.

PAIRING: OT7

GENRE: fluff, crack

WARNINGS: none

NOTE: did not dust not rennovate this (crying emoji) dw i am writing new work. Will be posted soon. Thank you for your patience and support!

Part 2

★ HEESEUNG:

he's driving everyone insane. Keeps dropping subtle hints that no viewer catches but his manager eyes him like a hawk on award shows and lives. If you're a few feet away from him, he'll glance at you or turn his head in your direction and pretend he's looking at something/one over there. When your eyes meet in the crowd, he winks at you, expression smug. Then turns around with a blank face as if you're not knawing at your lips to not let a bright smile out. There are cameras recording? Okay and? He might not be able to show you off but he's not going to act like you're a stranger.

★ JAY:

very chill about it. Actually he's not. He finds himself in an internal delimma every time you're at shows. Keeps chanting don't look over and over again. Values his career and yours and doesn't want to do anything stupid. He knows how fans are so instead he tries to be sneaky about it. Buys you a bracelet and tells you to wear it when you're at the airport. You don't think too deeply, heart fluttering at the loving gift. A few days later, he uploads a selfie, peace sign on display as well as an identical bracelet snug around his wrist. Some people are speculating but it's nothing big enough for the companies to intervene. Laughs when you call him and says it was a complete coincidence.

★ JAKE:

pda? Baby you do not exist. You are a hallucination. Its a jarring contrast to what hes really like when it's just you because he will NOT make eye contact. He'll stand "near" you not next to you. He knows how vile people on the internet can be and idols get enough of that already. He doesn't want to put you in a compromising position but it's so painful to pretend that nothing is happening between you two. So, he'll do small gestures like during award shows, he'll tell jungwon to hand over his own cushion/blanket to you or your group leader. Be more platonic or "caring" about it so it doesn't seem unusual in the public eye. Sends a bouquet to your makeup rooms and signs the note from enhypen. He's great at fooling.

★ SUNGHOON:

he's actually so ecstatic about it. He would pray and pray to get you as a co-mc, then he'd be able to spend more time and come on camera without any nasty rumours. Plus certain scripts have cheesy pickup lines he'd abuse just to get a reaction out of you. His small smile as he soaks in your flustered reaction? Yea thats def not part of the script. Enjoys that most people ship you because of the ""chemistry"". Giggles on call while he sends you tabloid links that talk about you two. The last nail in the coffin is when he practically describes you as his ideal type. He doesn't know if it sliped out or if it was intsntional. They need to pay the manager more.

★ SUNOO:

the guy who openly calls you his friend. He's the type to introduce a 'slow burn' to ease the public. His fans are used to seeing him talk about you and your group, he doesn't overdo it. Sometimes you talk about him and his group. If a comment asks him to talk about a favourite member in your group he will ignore that, and pretend he never read it because your name would slip out. Defends you in subtle ways by making off-handed comments such as "idols can have off days" or "people shouldn't comment on someone else's appearance. It's not right". Fans make those platonic edits and photoshop you two together in pictures. You bite your fist every time he sends them to you, giggling at how people want to see a collab. That would be his dream. He's def at your concert.

★ JUNGWON:

He's a leader, he's got a lot on his plate but he's also great at controlling himself. people won't suspect a thing when he stands next to you because he stands like 🚹. No fun edits because people can't even tell that you know him, let alone date him. He makes up for it with his love language. Eventually, he'll relax for a bit when he's assured that no one is waiting to get him and his love. He can never be too careful which is why when he can't "do" things publically to help you, he would warn you about certain people/situations. In award shows, if his eyes wander away from his members it's to see if you're safe and comfortable. Once his fears are calmed, he can relax and enjoy the show. Stares at you when he thinks no one is looking.

★ NIKI:

He's just here to have a good time. He prays and wishes for collabs and gets sad whenever nothing happens. He's the type to send you small trinkets as gifts…like an inside joke except there's no joke and Niki feels giddy when he sees your selfie and a familiar charm tied in your phone case. At shows or encore stages, he'll stand behind you (pretends he's doing that because he's soo tall he blocks everyone) and keeps poking you and you have to maintain your expression. Other idols around you know something is up but they don't know what is. He's treading the line between platonic and romantic love. Does the classic rizz move -> notices confetti stuck in your hair and plucks it out, then bows in and greets you casually as if your face isn't red.

Thank you sm for reading! Hope you enjoyed!

All rights belong to me. Please do not copy/translate/edit.

#enhypen #enha #enhypen scenarios #enha scenarios #enhypen x reader #enhypen fics #enhypen drabbles #enhypen reactions #enhypen fluff #enhypen imagines #enhypen soft hours #heeseung #jay park #sunghoon #jake sim #sunoo #niki nishimura #jungwon #enha x reader #enha imagines #enha fluff #enha headcanons #heeseung x reader #sunghoon x reader #niki x reader #sunoo x reader #jungwon x reader #jake sim x reader #hana's work 》 #enha drabbles

[queen-of-the-avengers]

Not Allowed

Pairing: Cop!Bucky Barnes x Receptionist!Reader

Word Count: ~2.1k

Warnings: bad date angst, jealous bucky

Summary: You and Bucky always flirt with each other while at work but it never goes anywhere like you'd hope. You accept a date with another man, causing Bucky to be jealous. He's a cop who is jealous. Nothing will go wrong, right?

Squares Filled: kink: pet names (2021) for @buckybarnesbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

You walk through the double doors with a smile on your face because today is another day. You’re alive and that’s the best kind of day. You work for the local police department as their receptionist. You’re the first thing people see when they come in so you have to be on your best behavior.

You set your things down on your desk and quickly get settled in. Besides the Captain, you’re the first one in the building. Every officer that comes in, you greet them with a smile as you log into your computer.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Officer Wilson says when he comes in. He always calls you that since he's often told you how he thinks of you like a little sister. “How was your weekend?”

“Too short,” you chuckle. “Did Sarah get into that college?”

“Yeah, she got the acceptance letter yesterday.”

“Oh, I’m so happy for her!” you grin.

“Yeah, I’ll tell her to give you a call.”

Sam taps your desk twice and leaves to go to his own. A few more officers come in until the one you’ve been waiting for walks in confidently. Your heart starts to race because you have a huge crush on him. He kind of knows it but doesn't outright call you out on it.

“There she is,” Bucky smiles and leans on your desk.

“Officer Barnes, it’s good to see you.”

“Doll, you know you can call me Bucky.”

He knows exactly what those pet names do to you. After a night of drinking together, you let it slip that your kink is pet names, and doll happened to be your favorite. Like him, you won’t call him out on it.

“I know. How was your weekend?”

“Better if you were there with me,” he flirts.

“Oh, Bucky,” you chuckle nervously. “You don’t mean that.”

“Yeah, I do. I was wishing, ‘Man, don’t I wish Y/N was here with me? I guess I have to drink alone’.”

“You know what alcohol does to me.”

“Yeah, I do,” he smirks. “You look cute today. That dress compliments you.”

“A compliment. I might swoon,” you joke even though your cheeks are hot.

“As long as it’s in my arms, I don’t care.”

“Don’t you have a job to get to, Officer Barnes?”

“Yeah, but I’d rather stay here and talk to you.”

“You might get fired.”

“It’s worth it,” he winks. “Here’s your coffee.”

He sets your favorite coffee order next to your keyboard and walks away. That’s the extent of your relationship with Bucky. You two flirt constantly but nothing ever comes of it. It’s comfortable. Why leave something when you’re comfortable being there? Do you wish you were something more? Of course. Do you think he’s going to man up and take it to that next level? Not unless something threatening happened like him realizing if he doesn’t do it soon, he’d lose you.

Some of what your work includes is printing off documents for the other officers, inputting things into evidence before they get shipped off there, and sorting through the files regarding the people they have locked up in the holding cells or interrogation rooms. You already have a list of things to print out and file, but you look for Bucky’s name first.

After printing off what he needs, you get up and personally hand this to him. There is a mailbox for the officers that you’re supposed to put in, but you like visiting his desk. He has a picture of you and him printed out and placed next to his computer that you look at every time you visit.

“Here are the papers you asked for,” you smile.

“Thanks, doll,” he grins and grabs them from you, intentionally brushing his fingers against yours.

You go back to your desk to finish your work, and you come across two people who need stuff put into evidence. One of them sent it over a couple of hours ago, and the other one is from Bucky. You immediately click on his name to get what he needs first before looking at the other one.

“Now that is bullshit,” you hear from behind you.

You jump and turn to see Sam standing there with a half-smile on his face.

“What are you doing? You scared me!”

“I sent you evidence hours ago and Bucky sent you it just now, and he’s the one you pick first?”

“I--”

You don’t have any words for that.

“When are you two gonna fuck?”

“Sam Wilson!” you gasp.

“What? It’s a valid question. I should ask him that.”

“Don’t you dare!”

“I’m rooting for you two no matter how painful the slow burn is,” he chuckles and walks away.

It takes half an hour to get the idea of you and Bucky fucking for you to do your job right. Once you’re in the groove of things, the door opens and an attractive man walks in.

“Can I help you?” you ask with a smile.

“Yeah, I’m here for my brother. He’s in lock up.”

“Okay, what’s his name and date of birth?”

“James Farley. 04/05/1986.”

“Your name?”

“Brandon Farley.”

“Okay, I see your brother here. It looks like--”

“I’m sorry, but I have to tell you how beautiful you are.”

“Oh, thank you,” you blush.

“Are you seeing anyone?”

“No, but--”

“Great. Can I take you out?”

“You can see how this is inappropriate, right?”

“Yeah, but you like it,” he grins. “So, can I take you out?”

There’s a certain charm about him that you find endearing maybe because he reminds you of Bucky. Being put on the spot like that is enough to make you freeze up, so you say the one thing that won’t cause conflict.

“Yes.”

“Here’s my number.”

He grabs your hand and writes his number on it so that it won’t come off with one scrub.

“I have sticky notes!”

“This is better. Now you won’t lose it.”

“Go take a seat. Someone will be with you shortly to bring you to your brother.”

“Thanks,” he winks and walks to the waiting room.

You’re about to get up and wash off the number when you notice Bucky standing in the doorway that leads into the precinct.

“Did I hear that right?”

“What?”

“You have a date?”

“Yeah, he asked me out,” you stutter. Bucky looks pissed as if you just told him you killed someone. “Why do you look angry?”

“Nothing. No reason.”

Bucky walks off angrily leaving you confused. He avoids you like the plague for the rest of the day. He isn’t at his desk when you drop off paperwork, and he’s not there to walk you to your car when you get off. He’s supposed to get off an hour before you do, but he stays after not on the clock to make sure you get to your car safely.

This time, he didn’t.

The next day, Bucky is already at work when you arrive. There is no coffee on your desk, either, and you’re feeling guilty for accepting a date with someone else. Is that why he’s acting this way? Sam walks in drinking an energy drink when you stop him.

“Hey, what’s going on with Bucky?”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“No, what did I do?”

“You accepted a date from someone else.”

You knew it. Why is he bigging out?

“So?”

“Have you not been here for the past two years? You two flirt like crazy.”

“No, he’s just being friendly.”

“You won’t get it until you do,” Sam shakes his head and walks off.

The date with Brandon comes sooner than you hoped. He picks you up in a fancy car and takes you to a fancy restaurant that you could never afford. He smooth-talks the hostess to get him a table by the window so he can have a view while he eats. The waitress brings by a drinks menu but he already orders what you two are going to drink.

“Trust me, you’re going to love this,” he winks at you.

“Okay,” you say and fiddle with your fingers underneath the table. “You know what I do for work. What do you do for work?”

You shouldn’t have asked him that.

“I work in the telecommunications sector. You know that big building in the city? That’s mine. It’s funny. I got all my parents’ money when they died and instead of using that money for myself, I decided to invest in a small company that turned out to give me millions.” You open your mouth to speak but he continues talking. “Can you imagine that? This small company that wasn’t going to go anywhere if it weren't for me. I’m like their hero. They eventually sold their part to me, and I’ve been thriving ever since.”

Once he got to talking about his job, he hasn’t shut up about it since. He’s very arrogant and rude but that doesn’t seem to stop him. As soon as the drinks come, you greedily take yours and down it without caring what it is.

“Whoa, doll, calm down. I don’t need to haul you to the car at the end of the night. You should pace yourself.”

No one can call me that but Bucky. Oh, Bucky. You shouldn’t have said yes to this man. He only asked you out to hear himself talk. You want this date to end so you pretend to be interested in what he has to say. Even when the date is over and he’s driving you home, he won’t shut up. His voice mixed with alcohol is starting to make your head throb.

About halfway to your house, you see red and blue lights behind you.

This better not be him, you think to yourself. Brandon pulls the car over obediently and waits for the officer to approach him. You look through the mirror to see the outline of the officer and recognize it immediately. He better not. I swear to God… Instead of walking to the driver’s side door, Bucky walks over to your door and leans down so only you can see him.

“Step out of the vehicle, please.”

“No.”

Bucky takes a deep breath to calm himself down. He leans in so close that you can smell his delicious cologne. That makes your head spin.

“I’ll repeat myself. Step out of the car.”

“Or what? You’re gonna drag me out?”

“Don’t tempt me, doll,” he says so only you can hear it.

“Is there a problem, Officer?” Brandon asks.

“Yes. You have a busted taillight.”

“Fuck! You’ve got to be joking, sir.”

“No, sir, I’m not.”

“Shit. Officer, I can promise you I keep this car in the utmost pristine condition.”

“Not today, buddy. That’s a ticket.”

Bucky takes out his pad and writes Brandon a hefty ticket for a broken taillight you’re not sure is even broken.

“Fuck!” Brandon turns to you without guilt on his face. “Look, do you mind if I drop you off right here? Your house is only down the road. You can get there from here, right?”

Your mouth drops open in shock.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take her home,” Bucky offers.

“Thank you. I’ll call you.”

You don’t say anything as you get out of the car. Bucky walks you to the passenger side of his cruiser. You look at the taillights of Brandon’s car and notice they’re both working properly.

“What the fuck, Bucky?” you yell when he gets in the driver’s seat. “His taillights are broken! You can’t just do that. That’s illegal!”

“He’ll fight against it, and I’ll drop the charges,” he shrugs.

“You’re un-fucking-believable. We were actually having a good time,” you lie.

“No, you weren't,” he laughs.

“How do you know that?”

“It’s written all over your face. Your eyes don’t have the usual light.” Bucky pulls onto the road and heads in the direction of your house. “I don’t know why you would accept the date in the first place.”

“Because at least he had the fucking balls to ask me.”

That puts the entire car ride into a tense silence. He doesn’t say anything for the rest of the ride home. He pulls up to your place but instead of letting you get out first, he gets out and walks over to your side of the car. He opens the door but doesn't let you leave the car. He leans into the car, grabs your chin, and kisses you. You’re shocked but you won’t pull away from him. Both your lips move in harmony against one another, and he slides his tongue into your mouth to show you he means business.

“You’re not allowed to see other men.”

“Why not?” you ask, breathlessly.

“Because you’re mine now and I’m not gonna let you go.” This brings a smile to your face. He lets you get out, and when you pass by him, he taps your ass lightly. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Doll.”

Yes, you will.

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fan fic #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fiction #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst #marvel #marvel fanfiction #marvel fic #marvel fan fiction #marvel fanfic #marvel fan fic #mcu #marvel fluff #mcu fanfiction #marvel fiction

[meanbossart]

Because I love the idea of DU drow as a companion... how would you recruit him? Where do you find him, and what's his intro cutscene?

Hi, I've been thinking about this since I got this message :V

There's this nautiloid pod somewhere nearby the Owlbear cave right? So those things were just crashing all over the place, not just near the beach where the actual ship fell. I believe his pod could have had a similar fate and fallen somewhere off the beaten path.

Mind you that, In this scenario, waking up from the pod and onto the forest map would have been DU Drow's first-ever conscious minutes ever since having his mind wiped, so he truly has no fucking idea of what just happened - he just knows his head is in shambles and that he needs to survive for long enough for his memories to return, assuming they ever will. So, his immediate instinct would be to retreat away from where the people are.

I think underneath the bridge, where there's running water and some fauna/flora would be a good spot to find him. Players might take a day or two until they stumble across this weirdo companion and so they are more in the loop than he would be. You'd find a little blood-trail leading you down there, and eventually spot a fist's corpse with no shoes near the river - DU drow would be crouched down by the water washing blood off himself:

While the rest of the party may have been picked off random places as they went about their days, this guy was busy being dissected and put back together over and over again - and there's no way Kressa bothered to dress him back up fully before he was taken away from her (me allowing the man to have pants on at all is a mercy onto you all) so he begins with no armor, but to make up for that fact he's the only companion who begins with a great-sword, which he would have stolen from the fist.

When you approach he is perfectly calm, In fact, he doesn't seem all that there. He stands up and appears half-ready for a fight, but lets you speak first. You can either ask what he's doing here, or about the corpse. You get more or less the same answer to both:

If you successfully persuade him, he tells you with no particular tone of shame or remorse that you got him, he did kill him, however he claims he was attacked first. Whether you pry into his mind with the worm, or have a scroll of read-thoughts, you get the same narration:

"Behind the aloof facade, you find the drow's mind to be in a concerning state of disarray: dozens of thoughts racing, jumbled, all at once, each trailing into the next before you can catch a hint of substance. You don't find the answers you were looking for, just red goo."

You CAN however use speak to the dead on the corpse. If you do that, it's revealed that he is actually telling the truth; The fist found him and assumed him to be with the drow who raided Wakeen's rest. Otherwise, you have to either take his word for it, attack him, or leave him.

He will refuse your offers to join you/go to your camp until you reveal to him that you have been tadpoled - either through using the Illithid-worm option, or telling him upfront through normal dialogue. If you didn't peer into his head earlier, you will now, confirming to yourself and him that he's also been infected. Then, you can tell him you're looking for a cure, and he will agree to travel along. This gets you approval from Shadowheart, Karlach, and Astarion, and disapproval from Lae'zel, Wyll, and Gale.

If you attack, he's as easy a fight as any companion would be at that point. If you choose to leave him be/not tell him about your worm so he refuses to join, he will appear at your camp after two long rests, basically forcing himself to into your party unless you kill him. You find him hanging out around Withers and he tells you he's decided to travel with you from now on, and that he will make himself comfortable.

If you ask for his name, he tells you to just call him whatever you want to (cue like 5 joke dialogue answers - he responds to all of them with a snort and you get approval if you pick any flattering ones). Whatever you ask about him gets you a very blunt, vague response. If you have Shadowheart in your party/are playing as her, she implies he may be suffering from memory loss, finally prompting him to admit to it. Otherwise he only reveals this after a couple more long-rests.

#this was fun thank you LOL #I love thinking about his store in terms of actual game mechanics. #ask #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #companion DU drow

[munson-blurbs]

Thinking about Rockstar!Eddie meeting you at an autograph signing and getting off to the thought of you after his show...

“Here ya go,” Eddie says, forcing a tired smile as he hands a freshly-autographed CD to a beaming fan. Pre-show merch signings were part of the deal, and they certainly brought in the extra cash, but after five months on the road, the members of Corroded Coffin are tired. Eddie scratches at the five o’clock shadow dotting his face, glancing at his watch. Just another ten minutes until they can wrap this up and start soundcheck. Then they’ll be back on the bus, shipping off to whatever city’s up next.

The security guard lets the next two people up to the table. Eddie reaches over to the pile of CDs, giving an exasperated sigh as he asks, “Name?”

That’s when he hears your voice.

His head snaps up, and he relaxes as he takes in your shy demeanor. You’re holding the hand of your friend–girlfriend?--hey, it’s the ‘90s; anything is possible. Your eyes sparkle as you say and spell your first name, biting your lower lip and averting your gaze from the gorgeous rockstar in front of you. “Pretty name,” he murmurs, writing a short message and swirling the Sharpie over the CD cover to make his exaggerated signature. “Pretty name for a pretty girl, yeah?”

You just giggle, and the girl next to you squeezes your hand. “She’s, like, completely in love with you,” she blabbers. “Every damn day since we got these tickets, it’s been, ‘What should I wear? Do you think Eddie will notice me?’”

You free your hand to elbow her, a little harsher than you’d intended. “Dianna!” you hiss, burying your face in your palms in a feeble attempt to hide your humiliation.

But Eddie just cocks his head, checking you out from head to toe. “Oh, he definitely noticed you,” he muses, handing you the CD with two lanyards. “You ladies wanna watch backstage? ‘Course you do; Charlie will bring you where you gotta go and, uh,” he looks directly at you, sending an excited shiver down your spine, “maybe we can notice each other a bit more later.”

You and Dianna nod vigorously as the beefy security guard leads you to the backstage VIP suite. A waiter comes around and takes your drink orders. You ask for a vodka soda, and Dianna gets a Long Island iced tea.

“You sure about that?” you whisper as the waiter walks away. “Those are really strong.”

Dianna shrugs. “It’s not every day we get free drinks. Might as well drink as much as we can.”

Meanwhile, Eddie’s fumbling his way through soundcheck, thinking about the way your breasts peeked out the top of your Corroded Coffin tank top, how your denim shorts perfectly cupped your ass, the shiny gloss that emphasized your lips. God, he wants those lips wrapped around his hard, throbbing–

“Munson? You wanna get your head out of your ass so we can put on a show?” Jeff’s voice booms through his mic. 

“He’s thinking about that hot chick he gave backstage passes to,” Gareth teases, and Simon makes kissy noises at their lead singer.

Eddie launches his guitar pick in Gareth’s direction, narrowly missing his head. “Shut the fuck up, all of you,” he grumbles, but he knows that they’re right. Just get through the show and she’s all yours. He palms himself over his pants discreetly. He’s never been more grateful for his guitar, since his tight leather pants do nothing to hide his burgeoning erection.

Corroded Coffin puts on a hell of a show, as usual. They close with “Rock Hard,” their hit single about hooking up with a groupie after a concert, and Eddie thanks every celestial being that it’s the last song of the night. As soon as the band thanks the audience and says their goodbyes, Eddie dashes offstage. He bolts into your suite, all sweat and smiles. “How’d you like the–” He stops, frowning when he sees an empty room, save for Charlie, who’s smoking a cigarette in a lounge chair. “Where is she?”

“Sorry, Casanova,” Charlie drawls. “Her little friend drank too much, got sick all over the bathroom. Had to get them outta here before she ruined anything else.”

Eddie groans, throwing his head back as his bandmates laugh at his misfortune. “Goddammit,” he hisses, pushing his perspiration-soaked hair from his eyes.

“C’mon, man,” Simon claps a hand on Eddie’s back. “There’s a bar down the street; plenty of the girls from the show will be there…” He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.

“Nah, I’m just gonna head back to the bus. ‘M pretty beat.”

“Oh, something’s getting beat tonight,” Gareth jokes. Eddie flips him off, but once again, he’s right.

He’s barely closed the curtain to his makeshift bedroom before he’s hastily unbuttoning his leather pants, shoving his ringed hand into his boxer briefs. Just the sensation of his own touch has him bucking his hips. He runs his thumb over the bead of pre-cum pearling at his tip, using it to lubricate his palm. He uses his free hand to tug his pants down to his knees, sitting on the bed. He imagines you on your knees in front of him.

“S’big, isn’t it, baby?” Eddie coos. He leans over, letting a trail of saliva drip from his mouth to his shaft. “Thas’ right, spit on it. Such a dirty fuckin’ girl.” He grips the bedsheet with his left hand, dragging his right from base to tip. 

“What’s that? You want it in your mouth? Oh, pretty girl; you don’t have to ask twice.”

He fucks into his fist harder, feeling himself grow in his own grasp. “Mmm, let me make a mess of that face. Ruin that fuckin’ makeup you worked so hard on. Wanted me to notice you; well, I sure fuckin’ did. Knew I had to have you, sweet thing.” If you were actually here, you’d be gagging on his dick as your nose grazes the thatch of curls on his pevlis, tears reflexively gathering at the corners of your eyes. Your mascara would start to run; the telltale sign of a good blowjob.

He loosens his hold on the sheet, cupping his balls. “If you do that, ‘m gonna bust in that sinful mouth of yours, fuckin’ swear.” A harsh chuckle escapes his throat. “Bet you’d like that. Bet you’d take my whole load down your throat, swallow it all, yeah?”

Eddie brings himself right to the edge before forcing himself to slow down. “I know, baby. I know you wanna keep sucking me off. But I wanna–no, I gotta be in that perfect little pussy. Now, come sit on my cock. Nice and slow–thassit.” He tightens his grip on his length, keeping a slow rhythm to mimic the feeling of gradually filling you up. “You can take it, don’t worry. I’ve got you, baby girl.”

He bites his lower lip so hard that he swears it might bleed. “Oh, angel. Y’feel even better than I ever imagined, holy fuck.” He increases his pace, choking out a pathetic moan. “What’s that? You want me to come inside you? So desperate f’me, aren’t you?” He whimpers at the mental image of you bouncing on his cock, tits pressed up against the dusting of hair on his chest. “Come with me, fuck, wanna make you come. Want you to cream my cock while I fuckin’ fill you up.” Eddie lets out one last pornographic moan as thick, hot ropes of cum spurt out onto his thick fingers. He pants, trying to catch his breath as he comes down from the high of his orgasm.

Cleaning himself up, Eddie grumbles to himself about your stupid drunk friend and how he’s so tired of fucking his own hand. He falls asleep quickly, worn out from the combination of the concert and his own post-show escapades.

The next morning, Eddie wakes up and wipes the sleep from his eyes. The bus driver has already set out for their next destination, somewhere in Bumblefuck. Eddie doesn’t care, he just wants you. Real you, not the fantasy he’d conjured up last night.

“Hey, boss,” Charlie says when Eddie pads out to the bus’s common space. “Forgot to give this to you after the show.” He hands him a folded piece of paper, which reads:

Eddie:

Had to get Dianna home before she puked on the carpet. I was not paying for that to be replaced–the tickets for your autograph already bankrupted me…

But if you wanna stop by my hotel room later, just give me a call. I don’t think you were done noticing me. I certainly wasn’t done noticing you. 

xo

You signed your name with a glossy lip print and your hotel room extension.

“Charlie,” Eddie starts through gritted teeth, “if you can convince the driver to turn this bus around, I won’t fire you.”

--

#eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie x you #eddie munson fluff #eddie x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x female reader #stranger things fanfic #eddie munson fanfic #fanfic #stranger things #eddie munson stranger things

[bau-muffin]

“Pure Intentions”

Ship: Aaron Hotchner/Reader

Rating: E

Category: Fluff

Word Count: 1,162 Words

Summary: You are an agent who is also spiritual and loves crystals. So, you decide to give your favorite boss man, SSA Aaron Hotchner, black tourmaline.

Hotch really didn’t know why insomnia had chosen to haunt him on a Sunday night, but he felt the full extent of it when he stepped into the bullpen the next morning. He wasn’t really given to vanity, but he felt like his eyebags were eye-totes now, and even though he had downed a cup of coffee before leaving the house, he felt like if he was still for even a second, he’d fall asleep.

Of course the weekend he had off was when his mind barred him from a good night’s rest- the night before work, no less.

He had not been at his desk for more than ten minutes when you bustled into his office, your smile wide as usual despite being almost eight in the morning.

“Good morning! I was going to wait closer to lunch, but then Penelope told me a case came in, so I decided to give this-“ you stopped to actually look at him, and even though an amused smile was pulling at his lips, he looked so exhausted. “I’m so sorry, I should have asked how you were doing first.”

“I’m not sick, just tired,” Hotch said kindly, “what do you have?”

“Black tourmaline! I know you’re not much of a spiritualist, but the low down on it is that it sponges up negative energy! And I mean… I know you don’t exactly have a choice, you know, to be or not to be around negative energy but…” you shrugged before admitting, “It also reminded me of you too. Also, again I know you don’t put huge stock into it, but I also charged it for you.”

You put the shiny black chunk on his desk, almost shyly. He picked it up, studying it and turning it over in his hands. You half expected him to pull his reading glasses out to look at it, and if he had- well, you couldn’t rightly be held responsible for the noise you might have made.

“This reminds you of me?” Hotch asked skeptically, his brows knitted slightly.

“Mhm! It’s a bodyguard type crystal. And… I guess you have that sort of… vibe? To me anyways,” you added on a little less than tactfully as you were visibly becoming fidgety, your hands smoothing down your skirt.

“You see me as the bodyguard type.”

You put your hands on your hips, an eyebrow raising. “Did you or did you not become overprotective when I said that my car alarm was going off in the parking lot and you insisted on stealthily going towards the car first with your pistol? Or did I hallucinate that?”

“I’ve seen some things in my time, and I know malevolent people would target a woman who’s alone when she’s leaving her workplace,” Hotch said defensively. You only smiled.

“Whatever you say. Regardless, that’s for you. Maybe, one day, I’ll get a keychain for you.”

“Thank you, that was… actually thoughtful and sweet of you. You’re right that I don’t put a whole lot of stock into this… sort of thing,” he admitted as he turned the crystal over in his palm again, “but I think… I think the weight of intentions are real.”

“Maybe those intentions will carry you home safe from this case, then. Judging from the groaning sounds coming from Garcia’s cave, I’m thinking it’s a doozy. By the way…”

“Mm?”

“Do you want me to make you a cup of coffee before you go in to briefing?”

“That would be wonderful of you, thank you. One sugar-“

“-and no cream. I know how you make your coffee, Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner,” you teased.

Hotch shook his head. “The full government name.”

You turned to walk out when he called your name, and you turned back to him.

“Can you come to my desk for a second?”

You complied, going to his desk with a nervous giggle. You thought he was going to speak, but instead he simply rose from his seat and kissed your cheek.

You touched your flushing cheek with a slightly shaky hand. “What was that for?”

He shrugged. “Just a thank you for being as thoughtful as you are. Truly… you make working here a bit easier.”

“Aw, you’re going to make me cry, so I’ll laugh instead.” You were going to turn to flee, but boldness filled you and you leaned up to kiss his cheek, except he moved, and you kissed the corner of his stern lip.

“Uh-” you backed away from him.

“Don’t panic,” Hotch ordered calmly- almost too calmly- “it’s not your fault, it was mine for reacting too quickly.”

Your cheeks flushed hot red and despite his command to not panic, you immediately fled the scene, leaving behind a confused but slightly amused Aaron.

A few minutes later, JJ entered his office with his cup of coffee in one hand and sat it on his desk, the other arm full of file folders. She gestured with her head towards the bullpen, “Hey, um, Agent-“

“I know,” Hotch said with a minuscule smirk, sipping the coffee, and almost immediately moaned aloud. True to your word, you knew exactly how he takes his coffee. He kept glancing towards the crystal sitting on his desk, and when Garcia called for him to come to the briefing room, he carefully slid it in his pocket.

On the jet, after all the details of the case had been discussed, Hotch leaned back in the chair, his fourth cup of coffee of the day in his hand. Even though he made his coffee exactly the same as always, it didn’t taste nearly as good as the one you made for him. He took the black tourmaline out of his pocket and held it in his hand. It works on a jet, right? It’s closer to the sun, it has to be like the best charging method.

“What do you have there?” Rossi asked from across him, looking up from a book- a compilation of Garfield comic strips over the years.

“A crystal. I think it’s… black tourmaline?”

Reid, of course, overheard this and had to jump in with, “you know, within pagan and spiritual circles, black tourmaline has protective properties, banishing negative vibrations, and it’s also supposed to be grounding.” He looked at the crystal in Hotch’s hand. “Oh yeah, I’ve seen this crystal on that agent’s desk. She and Anderson talk about them all the time, and apparently she keeps some of them in her desk, as does Anderson.”

“She and Anderson are good friends,” Hotch volunteered. “She’s the one who gave this to me.”

“She’s a sweet girl,” Rossi commented, sounding too innocent for Hotch’s liking.

“She is,” Hotch agreed simply, not taking the bait.

He and “that agent” were going to have to have a conversation when he got back home- he was entirely too intrigued by you. Perhaps he could ask you what crystal was the best for asking someone on a date.

#criminal minds #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #fluff #fluffy #fluff fic

[srjlvr]

꒦꒷ enhypen ! and your infamous ship with them&lt;3

idol-ot7!enhypen x idol-fem!reader .. fluff .. no warnings&lt;3 not proofread!!

read pt.1 here!! — since you all liked it<3

ε ї з — heeseung

as if his heart eyes for you at the interview weren’t enough, heeseung started talking about you a lot in his lives, which only adds to your fan’s delusions.

he’d go on and talk about his day in his lives when all of a sudden he’d turn on some music and the first song he’d pick would be one of your songs.

“this song is so good, i listen to it almost every day, this artist y/n is really talented i really love her songs” he’d say with a big smile.

and oh, this is definitely not the end, he’d also go on and rant about the first time meeting you and tell them about those times when you bumped into each other, as if he’s telling his best friend about a new crush he has.

“i was walking down the aisle when i accidentally bumped into her, she was in a bit rush so she apologized quickly and ran away, it was so funny i didn’t know what to do” he’d giggle, “after that she saw me again and even got me a snack, that’s cute”

with delusional fans, comes the delusional tweets of fans, and the conspiracies about heeseung having a crush too (which might be true)

“if i wasn’t so sure before, now im more than 100% sure that this boy is having a crush on her, and i’m all in for it!!”

ε ї з — jay

a week after the valentine’s day story blew up, jay went on a live again, just casually talking with his fans that he loves and appreciates so much.

jay was ranting about a cake his mom made him,and explained how cool the design she did looked, to the point where he actually took his phone and scrolled through his gallery to show them a picture.

usually, when idols show their phones on lives or such, they’d turn off their notifications, only this time jay was so into it that he forgot to do it.

at the same time you, being the good old friend you are, responded to a text he sent you a few minutes ago, even before he started the live.

as he was showing his picture on his phone to the fans he also got a notification from you, it was a matter of a few seconds for fans to realize your contact name, and a few seconds for jay to realize he’s doomed.

jay tried to laugh it off but it was too late. now even those who didn’t ship you two and had doubts about it are left speechless.

“i admit i didn’t believe the valentine’s day story and their ship, but now knowing they text each other and probably do every day too? YES!!”

ε ї з — jake

your old meet up with jake was actually filmed for a short vlog, you both work under the same company so it was pretty common to meet up and get it filmed.

a few days after the scandal blew up, a really short vlog of the both of you got released.

fans rushed to watch it and see any clue of jake since it was rumored he was going to be there. the short film got around 100k+ in no time!

fans felt like swooning whenever they watched your interactions, you and jake even spoke in english, considering the fact that you both are foreigners and feel comfortable speaking in english.

jake never looked more shy than when he was literally standing next to you, holding his signed album and just waiting for the right moment to give it to you.

if you’d ask any fan that watched this short vlog, they’d probably tell you they’re 100% sure that something is up with the both of you. the way that he looked at you was something fans never saw before, and the way that you looked at him was as if you finally got to talk with your crush after years of crushing over him.

“i NEVER thought i’d be able to see both of my ults in one frame together!! i bet you a million dollars that they’re dating and fight me if they’re not!! it seemed like they tried to hide it but it looked too overact”

ε ї з — sunghoon

everyone’s favorite ambassadors!! your couple photoshoot got so famous that even people who never heard of the two of you refused to believe you’re not dating.

on your first photoshoot together, you and sunghoon did some funny tiktok challenges that got super famous to the point that people started making edits out of them.

ever since then, each time you’d see each other you’d make a tiktok together, wether it’s a dance challenge or just a very trendy tiktok hence, it wasn’t such a surprised that enhypen’s tiktok account and your tiktok account was filled with tiktoks of the both of you together.

fans brought up new conspiracies of the both of you going on short dates and filming tiktoks together, a whole new chaos was created.

if you thought these tiktoks were enough then think again because not only your tiktok was filled with the both of you, but you also made sure to take many many photos and post it on instagram.

i think out of all ships, yours and sunghoons shippers are being fed so well honestly and they never ever complain about it.

“i never heard about these two until i saw their photoshoots!! you can’t tell me they’re not dating?? and we get too many contents of them two im fully convinced they’re just dropping hints”

ε ї з — sunoo

new years awards came in fast, and all fans were looking forward to collab stages, it was rumored that a lot of 3rd gen and 4th gen are going to perform together, but fans never ever expected you and sunoo to be on one stage together.

him dancing to your performance in one award got so famous that fans even made memes about it, like “me when my favorite song is playing in one store” and more!

the thing is, this stage included only you and him, which made the fans go even more crazy. you and sunoo? on one stage? all alone? fans hoped so bad for that and it happened.

you and sunoo ate the performance, it included a lot of skinship and difficult moves that even fans who tried to cover the collab stage complained about it being really hard.

a stage between a female idol and male idol isn’t something that’s very popular lately (sadly!!!) so it was such a surprise that you and sunoo actually did it.

king and queen of kpop confirmed! your new ship nickname was formed in no time and other fans who watched your stage was mesmerized by how good you two look together.

“IM GOING CRAZY RN!! sunoo and y/n, boyfriend and girlfriend on one stage AND THEY ATE THAT PERFORMANCE!! imagine being on stage with your partner they’re so iconic for that!!”

ε ї з — jungwon

as weeks went by with you and jungwon being MCs, fans got used to see the both of you together every week, it became a routine for them to open their laptop and stream your live, they’ll always find the time to watch the two of you.

when your contract ended, fans were devastated and didn’t want to move on, they even considered to stop watching the show without having the two of you.

even in your last day, you and jungwon looked so sad and unmotivated which made fans even more sad than before. the memories you created will always stay in the show’s history and fans’ hearts.

i guess both of your fans got super lucky because your companies were smart enough to sign the both of you up to a new variety show!!

new content of the both of you together?? in one variety show?? your fans can’t be thankful enough honestly.

fans were going mad watching the both of you being too comfortable around each other, basically doing everything together and staying really close to each other.

“anyone else waiting for them to accidentally expose their relationship on this variety show? come on!! its too obvious they’re dating!!”

ε ї з — riki

ever since that time the both of you met accidentally, the coffee shop became super famous, mostly people who waits to catch the both of you together are going there.

ever since then, fate has its own ways of getting to you, and each time you’re going to buy coffee in local stores, you happen to see him too.

you once uploaded a photo of your coffee to your weverse account and fans noticed a very familiar figure, who just happened to upload a photo of his coffee with you in the background.

and if that wasn’t enough, you were caught by fans together in the same place and this time, even shared a really long conversation. it became a usual thing for the both of you to meet up whenever you’re off to buy coffee, as if you know where to go if you want to meet up.

fans refuse to believe that this is all a coincidence since the evidences are always there, you’ve been seen around each other too many times, even in photos you yourself uploaded.

at one point you just decided to upload a photo together and tease your fans a bit, and it actually worked because the next day you became trending as the coffee couple.

“coffee couple has done it again! do you think their dates must have coffee in it? like what if they go to watch a movie? popcorn and coffee? anyways im fully convinced they’re always planning it and we’re just here to watch”

••• copyright © srjlvr all rights are reserved.

PERM TAG-LIST ; @sungwhoonz @ohdudehesflirting @unlikelysublimekryptonite @deobiis @manooffline @miumiuoi @in-somnias-world @filmofhybe @wonbinsnovia @daegutowns @aurumiee @soobywon @dhriti-stories @ariadores @firstclassjaylee @watamotee33 @moons-v @s00buwu @hoonheepretty @lovelovelovebts (bold means cannot be tagged)

#enhypen imagines #enhypen drabbles #enhypen reactions #enhypen scenarios #enhypen fluff #enhypen headcanons #enhypen x reader #heeseung imagines #heeseung x reader #jay imagines #jay x reader #jake imagines #jake x reader #sunghoon imagines #sunghoon x reader #sunoo imagines #sunoo x reader #jungwon imagines #jungwon x reader #riki imagines #riki x reader

[letmetellyouaboutmyfeels]

why are people so against oliver and ryan talking about buddie, don't we want this, don't we want buddie to be canon? i'm sorry are we rooting for buck to end up with tommy or something, like I don't understand why so many people are saying stop asking them about buddie?

If we want Buddie then shouldn't we be asking buddie questions? I mean I'm so sorry but I'm just very confused, shouldn't we be happy that buddie is getting this much press and love? Why are we against it?

Okay, this is going to be a long one.

There are a few reasons why people are concerned about publications teasing Buddie happening and using the ship name and asking Oliver and Ryan about the ship. I'll try to be as concise as possible.

I would like to note, I'm not going to answer a bunch of questions about this. Other people have answered similar questions plenty of times, if you take a bit to look around 911blr. I'm sure @catdadeddie has gone into this a few times.

However, I understand that we are getting a lot of new fans this season, and so I want to try and explain comprehensively for those who haven't been around. I hope this covers everything.

Whenever a ship is between two people of the same gender as opposed to two people of the opposite gender (I know, I know, but we can't get into the gender spectrum right now just play along with me), everyone involved has to be very, very careful when it comes to talking about that ship ahead of said ship going canon.

It is very easy to slip into something called "queerbaiting." I'm assuming that you and most people online and in fandom by now have heard of this term but just in case: queerbaiting is when a show acts like a queer ship might happen in marketing and promotion in order to draw in a queer audience.

Historically, this was done by having a main character played by a woman have a romantic thing with another woman (flirting, even kissing!) who was a guest star, hinting at the main character's bisexuality/queerness, only for that guest star to never come back and for the show to act like it had never happened. This was done during something called, IIRC, "sweeps week" which was basically an important week for TV viewer ratings in the 90s. It was a way to boost your numbers by drawing in queer viewers with the promise of actual queer rep that then wasn't realized. It's a marketing tactic.

Nowadays the nature of queerbaiting has changed a bit. It's an overused term that frankly people love to (mis)use whenever a ship of theirs doesn't go canon and a show dares to do things like having two people (like say Ryan and Oliver) who play the two halves of the ship do an interview together (whether you ship Buddie or not, they are close friends, and it makes sense that they'd do a few interviews together - that is not queerbaiting). A good example of real queerbaiting is Rizzoli & Isles which, among other things, took out billboards and magazine spreads showing the characters (two women) in suggestively sexual and romantic positions and with slogans hinting that the two had more than just friendship together, then never, ever delivered on it and in fact laughed at the idea of the characters being gay for each other.

(I WAS THERE, GANDALF!!!)

Because of this unfortunate treatment of queer audiences and the (historic) dearth of actual queer characters and queer ships going canon (it's getting better but still), networks, showrunners, and so on have to be very careful when, say, they want to make a queer ship canon.

Look at how ABC handled Chenford, a popular ship in their show The Rookie. Chenford was not a planned ship - the fans adored the chemistry between the two characters (Lucy Chen and Tim Bradford), the writers liked the idea and decided to lean into it, ABC gave the go-ahead, and the ship officially got together and went canon last season. ABC heavily promoted Chenford and the ship and made a lot of jokes about it in the last couple of seasons leading into the ship going canon, using the ship heavily in their marketing.

ABC cannot necessarily do that with Buddie, because even if Buddie is going canon, until that happens, they could get accused of queerbaiting. There's a much bigger minefield to navigate because of this historic misuse of queer audiences and queer characters.

So whenever journalists and publications use a popular non-canonical queer ship name for clicks and fandom interest, if that ship doesn't immediately go canon or if the network/showrunner/etc doesn't say "yeah they're totally gonna kiss! with tongue!" people accuse the show of queerbaiting. This is unfair to the show for two reasons: one, the network is not going to bother sending "shut the fuck up" letters to every single damn publication out there for using a ship name in their headline and talking about a ship - they'll be accused of homophobia and it draws even MORE attention to the issue re: the Barbra Streisand effect (look it up); and two, the people involved in the show are NOT going to spoil the anticipation and surprise by admitting ANY ship is going to go canon before it does.

This is simple marketing - the movie trailer doesn't (or shouldn't, anyway) show you the ending of the movie or everything that happens in it. TV shows want you to tune in every week and speculate and guess. They're not gonna spoil a ship ahead of time.

This means that when journalists and articles pull this shit, they're putting the showrunner, the writers, the actors doing interviews, and the network in a bad situation that they can't really do anything about. Not without causing more mess.

So that's reason number one why a lot of us are annoyed: by yelling about Buddie, these articles and journalists are setting the cast and crew we love up to get yelled at for queerbaiting if Buddie doesn't immediately happen, and there's nothing the cast and crew can do about it, and it's all so the journalists and articles can use us, the fandom, for clicks. So we're also kinda getting used here, and it doesn't feel great.

The second reason we're annoyed about Buddie questions is that it's being asked of the actors who, nine times out of ten, have ZERO CONTROL OVER THE STORYLINES.

Now, there are exceptions. Jennifer Love Hewitt, who plays Maddie, has pushed back on a couple storylines that were given to her and has therefore had a strong hand in shaping Maddie's character. One infamous (in a positive way) example is that Maddie and Eddie were supposed to be an endgame couple. JLH, however, immediately loved the character of Chimney and clicked with Chim's actor Kenneth Choi, so she asked if Maddie could get with Chim instead, feeling he'd be a better fit for her character. And lo, both the beautiful ship Madney and the insanity that is Buddie shipping was born because Buck ended up stepping into that co-parenting-Chris role that Maddie obviously would've originally filled.

However, it should be noted that JLH was an established star before coming onto 9-1-1, and her husband is friends with Tim the showrunner. I would argue that the only other two actors who have any power on their storylines are Peter and Angela, the latter because she can do whatever she wants forever, and the former because (like Angela) he is an executive producer on the show.

It's not that actors never ever get to have a say ever, but the writers, showrunner, and network have much more power. They create the storylines, they make the decisions. Not actors. So when the actors are repeatedly asked about a ship, they're put in an awkward position where they might not even know the full storyline for their character that season and now they need to answer in a way that doesn't reveal any information they do know, but also doesn't insult shippers or dash their hopes. This is a double minefield for queer ships because, again: historic insults to queer fans and characters, nobody wants to be offensive.

The third reason is that this fandom has, historically, treated Tim, Oliver, and others like absolute dogshit over Buddie not going canon. Oliver's left Twitter and taken big social media breaks because of how he was yelled at online. It's not cool, guys. Vent all you want but directing it at the cast and crew isn't okay and maybe if it was just you talking sternly that would be fine (maybe) but when it's dozens of people? It's bullying. Full stop.

Every single time Buddie has not gone canon instantly, the actors and others have gotten verbally abused on social media. Every time the actors have been asked about Buddie and not said "ohmygod yes I want it to happen so bad" (they are not allowed to say this because it might create false hope because again: historical queerbaiting) they've gotten yelled at. We are tired of the actors getting yelled at over something over which they have no control.

The fourth reason is that Oliver, especially, has gotten asked about Buddie a LOT. A lot. The poor man is very tired. He's been cornered about Buddie and asked about it aggressively by certain journalists (one journalist, Max Gao, actually tried to corner Gavin who plays Chris over Buddie - this was a few years ago so Gavin was even younger than he is now and I personally think that is an incredibly unfairly loaded question to give to a child).

If I may dive into speculation for a moment, given how the actors have been SO gleeful about the move to ABC, the fact that they've admitted ABC is letting them do storylines and little moments that FOX wouldn't, and a few other things I won't get into here because this damn thing is long enough already... I suspect FOX would not let Buddie happen. If this is the case, then actors being asked about Buddie is even more loaded because they are being asked questions about it and they can't say "yeah we want to but the network won't let us." THEY WILL GET FIRED FOR THIS.

But, whether or not my speculation is true, the fact remains that when you are repeatedly, over and over, aggressively asked if this fan ship is going to happen or not, you get tired. There's only so many times that someone can give a diplomatic answer before you just want to snap "stop fucking asking me!" Journalists love to take advantage of fandom and social media chatter to get attention for their articles so asking over and over again about Buddie isn't because they genuinely care or think it'll happen, it's to get shippers reading their article, and so bombarding the actors and writers with this question when they've already kinda said their peace a lot about it is frustrating. Just! Leave them alone!

And AGAIN: if this was a M/F ship there could maybe be room for teasing the will-they-won't-they but because of historically bad treatment of queer characters and fans, THEY CANNOT DO THAT. So the only option open to them is to KEEP THEIR MOUTHS SHUT. And keeping one's mouth shut and threading that diplomatic needle for years is EXHAUSTING.

We do want Buddie to be canon, nonny, and in my opinion we are going to get it. All this recent PR supports that, (again: in my opinion).

However, we have seen Oliver get bombarded with what he thinks about Buddie until the cows come home, and he deserves a break. There's nothing new he can say, there's nothing new he's allowed to say. We have seen other parts of the fandom scream that we're being queerbaited because Buddie didn't instantly go canon, without any consideration for the fact that a) queerbaiting is a marketing tactic and b) there might be other factors at play preventing it going canon. We have seen journalists take advantage of us, the shippers, in order to get attention, and we have seen them create an awkward and embarrassing atmosphere in interviews by repeatedly asking about the ship. We have seen shippers make us look bad by hounding the cast and crew on social media about Buddie, treating every woman actress who plays a Buck/Eddie love interest like shit (yes, I know about Edy, but she could be a saint and parts of the fandom would still go onto Instagram to call her names), and generally being absolute pills that would tempt any showrunner, actor, or writer to say "y'know what fuck 'em let's not make Buddie canon I'm not rewarding this shitty behavior."

"If we want Buddie then shouldn't we be asking Buddie questions?" No. Not like journalists and fans have been. It's something to bring up - in my opinion - sparingly and with an awareness of how queer storylines and ships and fandom have been mocked, ignored, baited, and so on over the years. They don't ask about Buddie because they give a shit. They ask because they want our clicks for their ad revenue and they want our retweets and likes and comments. And it's certainly not something to bombard the actors with on social media and bitch at them if it doesn't happen. It just makes the rest of fandom look bad and makes us look like children.

Additionally: These are not new questions! They're not only asking these questions now that it looks like Buddie will go canon, with serious hope and consideration based on the marketing and storylines. They've been asking this since season fucking two, when Buddie was clearly not planned, just to get fangirl (gn) clicks. They wanted to get attention and teehee over how Oliver/Ryan/whoever reacted to people thinking Buck and Eddie should touch dicks. 'Kay?

We know the pattern. So when every piece of media is screaming BUDDIE!!! we are not seeing it as "OMG could we go canon?" We see it as another round of being taken advantage of for article attention, another round of parts of the fandom being bullies and yelling about being baited, and another round of the actors being backed into uncomfortable corners.

That's why we're concerned, worried, and annoyed.

*collapses* I hope this covered everything and explained it all.

#mads answers things #THIS IS SO LONG OH GOD #I wouldn't know concise if it smacked me in the face #making this rebloggable for now so people can spread the information if they find it helpful/informative #but the moment there is clowning (derogatory) I'm turning reblogs OFF I do NOT have the patience #I spent an hour working on this instead of the F&F AU so like not to sound aggressive but this BETTER have answered y'all's questions LOL

[quillsthrills]

Sometimes you don’t NEED skin on skin

Just to really bring the point home for those who have not read the Six of Crows duology and think that Inej deserves to “have some fun before she finds her way back to her true love”, or who perhaps think that a love triangle/jealousy drama would somehow spur Kaz into action (do you even know Kaz Brekker?):

For someone connected to the production to caption a photo of the actors with the (crack) ship name of their characters (“Tonej”) and talk about “skin on skin” might seem innocent (”it’s just an Insta post”), but let’s look at the context for those who are upset by this – some of whom have suffered similar traumas and find comfort/inspiration in Inej’s character.

Here is a sample of Inej’s previous experience of skin on skin:

There were young men, old men, handsome men, ugly men. There was the man who cried and struck her when he could not perform. The man who wanted her to pretend it was their wedding night and tell him that she loved him. The man with sharp teeth like a kitten who had bitten at her breasts until she’d bled. Crooked Kingdom p. 274 Kindle version

And these are the men she remembers; mostly she forced herself to go numb, while making all the right noises and moves so Tante Heleen would not abuse her further.

Because she loves Kaz, she tells him she is willing to work on that trauma IF HE WORKS ON HIS. This does not mean that she is itching for skin on skin action there and then, it means she wants to be ready for it if they are to have a future together. 

What if he had come to her, laid his gloves aside, drawn her to him, kissed her mouth? Would she have pulled him closer? Kissed him back? Could she have been herself in such a moment or would she have broken apart and vanished, a doll in his arms, a girl who could never quite be whole? Crooked Kingdom, p. 275 Kindle version

This is her mindset as she boards that ship in S2E8. She does not need a man who is basically a stranger to be her ticket out of trauma – not even a lovely one like Tolya (who in turn does not need or want romance in his life to be fulfilled). She needs healing, a purpose and – as a character – not to be reduced to half a ship in a fling which would be nothing but a waste of precious screentime. 

EDIT: Inserting screenshot of the caption/tagging of the photo depicting Amita Suman and Lewis Tan, just to highlight the clear reference to the characters  and not the actors, whatever was claimed afterwards.

#crooked kingdome spoilers #KANEJ #inej ghafa #tolya yul bataar #kaz and inej #kaz brekker #shadow and bone #six of crows #leigh bardugo #we did not confuse the actors with the characters the caption did #crooked kingdom #soc #amita suman #freddy carter #lewis tan #crooked kingdom spoilers #six of crows spinoff #sab spoilers #netflix #understand your characters #shadow and bone netflix #aroace tolya #don't try to claim it was about the actors #the tags are all about the characters #grishaverse

[alpaca-clouds]

The Punk-Factor of Punkpunk Genre

So, when I posted my history of Solarpunk, someone (probably not in good faith) asked: “So, what about the punk in all the other punk genres?!” towards my request to put the punk back into Solarpunk. And given that my autistic brain obviously cannot just let that stand… You know what? Let me talk about the other punk genre and in how far they are “punk”. I tried to be as exhaustive as possible, though there is a good chance, that I might have missed some of the punkpunk genre. So feel free to add.

Trying to judge the punkiness I do not assume punk as simple counter culture, but a specific ideology. Quote from Wikipedia:

[Punk ideology] is primarily concerned with concepts such as mutual aid, against selling out, hierarchy, white supremacy, authoritarianism, anti-consumerism, anti-corporatism, anti-war, imperialism, conservatism, anti-globalization, gentrification, anti-racism, anti-sexism, class and classism, gender equality, racial equality, eugenics, animal rights, free-thought and non-conformity

Most of the artwork here has been taken from concept art of either of the examples listed.

Sorted from most futuristic to pre(historic). Yes, the list is long.

Cyberpunk

We start with the OG punk genre, the one after which all other punk genre were named. Yes, you could argue that in fact the two genre following are more futuristic – but Cyberpunk kinda just had to start the list.

As a genre: Given that Cyberpunk had its start completely in literature it is the best defined in this regard. Taking place in a late stage capitalist dystopian world in which most is owned by megacorps who don’t follow anyone’s laws but their own, the protagonists usually are social outcasts fighting against their own oppression, trying to keep themselves alive in a world hostile to them. With cybernetics always being a core of the genre, it also tends to deal with the question of humanity in a “ship of Theseus” sort of way. How much can the human body be altered, before the human vanishes?

As an aesthetic: Cyberpunk is the most punk in terms of aesthetics, really. There is a lot of punk and grunge going on in terms of character design. Neon hair colors, fishnets and thorn up jeans jackets can be found here. As well as of course cybernetics on the characters. The world usually is a megacity with a stark divide between rich and poor, tons of neon signs, a slight Japanese influence, flying cars and somehow a constant downpour of rain.

Punk-Factor: Cyberpunk is the one punk genre, where the “punk” was chosen very knowingly as a name. Usually the protagonists are “punks” fighting for their place in the world against a suppressive capitalist system. (Also, they usually fit the punk aesthetic, if they don’t wear leather dusters.) It should be noted however, that especially in newer western Cyberpunk often the punkiness vanishes more and more – for the same reason we have so little Solarpunk: media that outright confronts the problems of capitalism is just less supported.

Examples: Neuromancer (1984), Mirrorshades: The Cyberpunk Anthology (1986), Snow Crash (1992), The Matrix (1999), Dredd (2012)

Biopunk

As a genre: As a genre biopunk is still fairly ill defined, as it mostly shows up as a subsection of Cyberpunk. Rather than the characters having cybernetic implants (or additionally to it) they are augmented on a genetic level. This can be all sorts of augmentations, changing anything from appearance to giving characters higher strength and agility, giving them claws or night vision, or in some cases even “magic” powers. Usually the genre tends to be set in worlds similar to Cyberpunk. In fact it might well be set in a cyberpunk world, only that characters with bioaugmentations exist parallel to those with cybernetics. Additionally, though, there is a subsection of this genre, that concerns reproductive rights.

As an aesthetic: Ironically biopunk is even less defined as an aesthetic. There is not a lot of biopunk art out there and most that exists can go in different directions. As such it often mixes elements from other punk aesthetics – like Cyberpunk, Steampunk or Dieselpunk – with an assortment of bodyhorror elements.

Punk-Factor: It is hard to define the “punkiness” of a genre, that barely exists for the most part. Usually, when it is set against a Cyberpunk backdrop, it might be very punky, but in other settings those punk elements vanish.

Examples: Ribofunk (1995), Altered Carbon (2002), Bioshock (2007), The Windup Girl (2009)

Nanopunk

As a genre: Like Biopunk Nanopunk mostly exists as a subsubgenre to Cyberpunk, often being set in a mostly Cyberpunk world, only that instead of or additionally to Cybernetics, the technology used to alter the human body is nanites. These serve the same function as the genetic manipulation in Biopunk, giving the human in question more strength and agility and at times more or less magical abilities. There is one common plot that comes up again and again, with an AI or megacorp turning the nanites against the people they inhabit or trying to control them.

As an aesthetic: Aesthetically Nanopunk does not have much in terms of its own identity. Most artworks relating to Nanopunk feature a similar aesthetic to Cyberpunk, with megacities and lots of neon.

Punk-Factor: This genre is so small, that it is kinda hard to judge the exact punkiness.

Examples: The Diamond Age (1995), Prey (2002)

Solarpunk

As a genre: Being another genre, that started as such, Solarpunk is a bit better defined. Solarpunk usually takes place in a world post-strive. It is post-capitalist and decolonial in its settings, usually featuring a world that has either formed against the backdrop of preventing climate collapse or in the aftermath of it. A lot of it features people rebuilding – or alternatively building communities. It always features elements about living in harmony with nature or trying to do so. So far, the genre is mostly defined by short stories, partly because there is still disagreements within the movement, how far a conflict can be taken to still qualify as Solarpunk.

As an aesthetic: Solarpunk has a very strong aesthetic definition, mostly featuring all sorts of cities and urban areas, that incorporate natural elements into the urbanity, with greenery growing on roofs and concrete car-centric streets being replaced with more natural, walkable areas. The character design aesthetic is not quite as clearly defined, but usually features natural materials and patterns usually seen within indigenous art.

Punk-Factor: Contrary to what many say, Solarpunk is fairly punk, as it very much embraces the entire anti-hierarchical, anti-capitalist mentality. With the big difference, that the punk mentality is no longer counter culture, but the mainstream culture.

Examples: The Dispossessed (1974), Nausicaä (1984), Laputa – Castle in the Sky (1986), Princess Mononoke (1997), The Summer Prince (2013)

Lunarpunk

As a genre: Lunarpunk is pretty much a subsubgenre of Solarpunk, just as Nanopunk and Biopunk are sprung off from Cyberpunk. It is so far ill-defined as a genre, but the general consensus is, that it is set in solarpunk-esque worlds, but with a heavier focus on mysticism or spiritualism, at times outright including magic. It also tends to feature a lot darker places, being set in underwater or underground settings – or alternatively at night.

As an aesthetic: Lunarpunk is far more of an aesthetic than a genre so far. It features dark places, often with bioluminescent elements in it. Often featuring a mixture of black and dark blue with lighter blue, violet or light green elements shining in the middle of it. Mushrooms – especially glowing mushrooms – feature repeatedly in artwork.

Punk-Factor: Given that Lunarpunk is barely defined as a genre it is hard to estimate the punkiness in it. If it gets more stories, will those still feature the anti-capitalist and anti-hierarchical messaging we see in Solarpunk? This should be the defining factor. Some of the artworks use little aesthetics from the punk scene, but nothing much more.

Examples: Bioluminescent: A Lunarpunk Anthology (2023)

Hopepunk

Honestly, I had no idea where to put this one, given that it might technically be set at any time and place.

As a genre: Hopepunk is very much a genre, not an aesthetic. It has been defined as the opposite of grimdark by its “inventor/name-giver” Alexandra Rowland. The basic idea is to create fiction that instead of taking a dystopian, defeatist and violent approach, takes one defined by hope and to some degree pacifism. As such the genre can be set in any setting, real or fantastic. It mostly is defined by the protagonists taking opposition to cruelty and violence, fighting for a better world and, crucially, also partly archiving it. Other than in usual Cyberpunk, where the best possible ending, tends to be, that the protagonists get to live a somewhat better life themselves, Hopepunk aims to better the life at least for groups of people.

As an aesthetic: Being fully a genre, Hopepunk has no aesthetic associated with it.

Punk-Factor: Hopepunk is punk less in the sense of the protagonists or things happening within the story, which might or might not be punk, but was named such rather because it is considered counter cultural towards the gross of media at the moment, that often strives for a “realistic, gritty, grimdark” outlook on the world. Basically it is saying: “Hope is punk.” I will not make any judgement on whether or not this is true.

Examples: The Long Way to a Small, Angry Planet (2014), Mad Max: Fury Road (2015), The Good Place (2016)

Mythpunk

As a genre: Another one, that does not really fit into a temporal sorting system, because once again it can be set anywhere between the stone age and the far future. The basic idea is, that the story interweaves postmodern storytelling with elements from mythology or folklore. This can mean mythological, genre-traversing retellings, but it can also mean, that mythology seeps into any given story bit by bit. As such the genre with probably the most media in the subgenre is Urban Fantasy, which often borrows from mythology and incorporates these elements.

As an aesthetic: Mythpunk as an aesthetic is a bit strange. There is definitely a mythpunk aesthetic that exists, often mixing familiar elements with elements from mythology and folklore (at times also including quasi-folkloric works of literature, such as Alice in Wonderland and the Wizard of Oz). Often just a bit dark and twisted.

Punk-Factor: To be perfectly frank, for the most part, there is not a lot of punk to be found in this genre. While there have been definitely punky stories told within the genre, this is more a story decision than something inherent to the genre.

Examples: Pan’s Labyrinth (2006), Over the Garden Wall (2014), Inscryption (2016)

Dustpunk / Rustpunk / Desertpunk

As a genre: Kinda grouping those above all together, because people argue about what they might entail and in some interpretations they kinda are similar: Post-apocalyptic stories set in a world of sand and rust. Often featuring a loner character, having to go up against everyone to ensure his own survival – and at times being forced to learn, that the lonerness might not win him (and most often it is a him) anything.

As an aesthetic: Aesthetically this tends to be very much post-apocalyptic, maybe in some cases with some more classical punk elements added to characters and surroundings.

Punk-Factor: Given that there is neither a system to rage against – nor a new, less hierarchical system – usually there is not that much punk outside of some aesthetic choices. Neither tend those stories go into constructing worlds of mutual aid or working against oppression.

Examples: Anything Mad Max should count for this.

Atompunk

As a genre: Atompunk usually deals with themes connected to the cold war – in some cases directly, in some indirectly. Often it overplays the American ideals that were pushed for during the cold war era and portrays scenarios in which American Exceptionalism slowly reveals itself as the dystopia most punks already know it to be. Outside of this vague idea for the setting, the genre is less described, as there is less of a clear script an Atompunk story might follow. So, little description of who might be the protagonist and what their role is.

As an aesthetic: The aesthetic of Atompunk borrows heavily from the Raygun Gothic aesthetic. So, futurism, as it was imagined in the 1950s and 1960s, with heavy influences from late pulp age science fiction art.

Punk-Factor: The aesthetic in this is definitely not punk. The stories often have some vague punk ideas of recognizing how fucked up the world has become, but given the genre is fairly wide in terms of stories, it is hard to give a definite answer to how “punk” it is. One can definitely tell punk stories within this genre, though.

Examples: Hitchhiker's Guide To The Galaxy (1978), Fallout (1997), Futurama (1999)

Dieselpunk

As a genre: Dieselpunk is once again an example of “strong aesthetic, but no clear genre identity”. Generally, Dieselpunk is concerned with the interwar period, but might cover either of the world wars. In some cases the genre features alternate timelines, in which one war happened and not the other, or in which another faction won, with the technological development being influenced by this as well. But as a genre it is not much defined. A lot of stories building on Lovecraft’s legacy feature Dieselpunk in some regards. And there is definitely a subsection of Dieselpunk stories centered around “what if Nazis won” or “what if Nazis somehow went underground and did their own technological development after the war”. Also, there are a lot of stories about pilots of war planes in this genre.

As an aesthetic: As an aesthetic Dieselpunk is more clearly defined. A lot of bare metal and the sorts of technology you would expect from this era, often with retro-futurist and art noveau elements in between. A lot of the fashion within the genre is defined by pilot and military clothing of the times, but at times also dipping into “roaring 20s” fashion styles.

Punk-Factor: In this genre I would generally say: “If the story involves punching Nazis, you might get a couple punk points – but otherwise this is not really punk.”

Examples: The Iron Dream (1972), Brazil (1985), Dark City (1998), Iron Sky (2012), Bitter Seeds (2010)

Teslapunk

As a genre: Yet another one of these, that exists mostly as a vague idea, with no clear definition. The basic idea is a world, that works on Tesla’s inventions. And as those of you, who watched Doctor Who, might know, Tesla sorta, kinda already invented the internet or had an idea of what it could be and how it could work. So a Teslapunk world is based in an alternate timeline, but might in fact go into light futurism. There is not much in this genre though with a unique thematic identity, as stories that use Teslapunk as a backdrop rarely have coherent themes.

As an aesthetic: The aesthetic of Teslapunk is basically “Steampunk, but with Tesla-coils and electricity”. Which is not a big surprise given that Tesla came from the same era that would also be the inspiration for Steampunk. So, we have a lot of Victorian fashion, maybe some light augmentation, airships, and – again – all the tesla coils you can muster.

Punk-Factor: As, again, I think punk is more about themes than aesthetic, this is once more not really possible to judge, because there do not seem coherent themes within the genre so far.

Examples: The Prestige (2006), Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows (2011), Bioshock Infinite (2013)

Arcanepunk

Another one of those that do not neatly fit into the timeline…

As a genre: Arcanepunk takes place in a world, where both magic and technology have developed. In some cases both developed side by side, in others, we might have a technological world, that suddenly discovers magic by some happenstance. The fact is, though, that both exist parallel to each other or might at times be intertwined, with technology being powered by magic. This can exist at different technological stages, usually featuring settings inspired by the late 19th or early 20th century. But usually futuristic stuff that includes magic might be considered Arcanepunk, just as might stories that mix 18th century technology with magic. While also a vague genre, there is a repeating theme of magic being hoarded by those in powers and the poor and downtrodden finding ways to still use it in their own advantage.

As an aesthetic: Given that Arcanepunk’s setting is defined by the co-existence of magic and technology, rather than a specific technology, Arcanepunk has less of a defined aesthetic. Never the less, we have a part of punk aesthetics that often come up, as a surprising amount of Arcanepunk features characters with neon colored hair.

Punk-Factor: Another genre that is rather thin, yet, there is a surprising amount of stories featuring some punk ideas of fighting against an oppressive system and being counter culture to a main culture build around suppression.

Examples: Too Many Magicians (1966), Shadowrun (1989), Bartimaeus (2003), Arcane (2021) duh

Steampunk

Steampunk was the second genre to pick up the “punk” suffix and hence is as much responsible for the punk-punk as Cyberpunk as the originator.

As a genre: Being named as early as it has been, Steampunk kinda suffers the same issue as Cyberpunk itself. There is a lot of ideas there, but some are only vaguely defined. In general, though Steampunk always takes place in a world where the steam engine became the defining technology and was never replaced with the combustion engine. As such cultural aspects from the steam era, especially Victorian England and the Belle Epoche, still carry over for longer, than they did. So often we will see noble households based around similar values as the puritan Victorian English families, while the very poor are made to work in workhouses. At times we might also see themes of colonialism here. In some cases magic might exist in these worlds, as might electricity for some aspects. There is often a heavy inspiration from Jules Verne and H.G. Wells. Though it is still hard to define the “stereotypical steampunk story”, given that Steampunk offers a wide variety of stories, from adventure stories and romances, over to stories where people rise up against the Victorian-esque society.

As an aesthetic: Steampunk as an aesthetic is very much influenced by Victorian aesthetics and the time period of the late 19th century, mostly in the USA, Great Britain and France. But as all other punk genres it knows very well: “If it is worth doing, it is worth overdoing,” so steam-related elements are added to everything. Could

Punk-Factor: In the original idea for Steampunk was a lot of punk. “What if we took Cyberpunks ‘rage against the unjust system’ and made it 19th century” they asked. But given that the genre branched out so much, it is not necessarily there in all the stories. There is a ton of stories where people rage against that steam powered Victorian machine – but also a ton in which the Victorian world gets idealized and romanticized.

Examples: Thief (1998), The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen (1999), Wild Wild West (1999), Clockwork Century (2008) – also half of all Sherlock Holmes adaption made after 2000 in any medium usually use Steampunk elements

Silkpunk

As a genre: Silkpunk is hard to define, despite there being a clear definition. The reason for this is, that the person who coined the term – Ken Liu – had a very specific idea in mind. He explains that the idea is of a world that has technology as language. In which form is as important as function, is made to speak a language all of its own. Inspired by ideas from W. Brian Arthur and Chinese philosophy. However, what the wider Science Fiction and Fantasy community made from it was “Steampunk but East Asian!” But given he coined the term (and also the alternative feels vaguely racist) I am going to go with Ken Liu for this. While Silkpunk will usually be set in an East Asian inspired world, the central idea is about the duality of technology, which will also be addressed within the stories.

As an aesthetic: As said above, the idea Liu had for it was a world that features some technology, but technology that is as much about form and communication through it, as it is about function. So the technology here has strong visual ideas. At least that was, how Liu intended it. Once again, the wider community made “Steampunk, but East Asian” out of it.

Punk-Factor: There is not a lot of stuff in this genre for now – however so far I do not manage to see a lot of punk ideas in it, even though some of Liu’s stories definitely feature the concept of challenging a higher power.

Examples: Dandelion Dynasty (2015), The Black Tides of Heaven (2018), The Tea Master and the Detective (2019)

Clockpunk

As a genre: Once again storytelling in this genre is not really defined, but the worlds diverge a bit before the wide adaption of steam, instead featuring mechanical devices powered by coils and springs and somehow kept alive, often at least implied through some form of arcane magic that gives “live” to these mechanical inventions. Most examples of Clockpunk, however, tend to show up as settings for parts of fantasy stories. Any fantasy world might have this “Clockpunk” area, where protagonists might travel. Especially games tend to feature this. While there is definitely a trope of the “mad inventor” often going along with this, few other tropes stand out.

As an aesthetic: The aesthetic of Clockpunk tends to take some inspiration from the early 19th century, but tends to add a lot of gears to everything, with even city wide gear constructions keeping things working. We often will find mechatronic characters, such as wind up soldiers or wind up dancers.

Punk-Factor: Once more, there are so few stories told, that it is kinda hard to speak about how punk this is. Most stories told so far, however, do not feature punk elements.

Examples: The Great Mouse Detective (1986), Hugo (2011), Clockwork Planet (2017)

Whalepunk

Please note: This is one of those genre, I would love to see more in, though so far it is barely explored.

As a genre: And you might ask: “Why do you even name those genre, that exist mostly in theory?”, to which I might answer: “Because I am a nerd.” As all these retrofuturists genre, Whalepunk imagines mostly an alternate historical timeline, where the technology that became defining was based around whale oil. This means that in Whalepunk often whalers or harbors play a big role, though as the genre is again very thinly spread, it is hard to say what “THE whalepunk” formular is. It seems there is a tendency, to mix some mysticism or magic into the genre, though, as the idea of hunting sea monsters often plays into it as well. Good chance that it could at some point merge with Cthulupunk (which I did not name separately, because most of it is either covered in Whalepunk or Dieselpunk).

As an aesthetic: The aesthetic of Whalepunk is basically “Steampunk, but with more sailors, ships and sea monsters”. There is definitely a bit of Oceanpunk mixed into it as well, with some aesthetics being somewhere between Steampunk and Dieselpunk. (Which is kinda ironic, because whale oil was mostly used in the early 19th century.)

Punk-Factor: And again. There so far is not a lot of connective thematic tissue within that genre, so exploring themes is kinda hard.

Examples: Dishonored (2012), Dredge (2023)

Oceanpunk / Piratepunk

As a genre: It really is hard to divide the Piratepunk out of the Oceanpunk, though some might call it different. The idea here is that this genre features stories mostly set on the ocean and often more heavily leaning into fantasy, than science fiction. While the worlds might feature technological elements, they will almost certainly feature magical elements of some sort. The characters will usually be seafaring one way or another and stories might involve any sort of adventure. There might be a storyline, though, about one company or nation trying to control the seas – often times through magical means – with the characters often unwillingly being made to oppose them. This genre might also take place in a post-apocalyptic setting with a flooded planet.

As an aesthetic: While the aesthetic is not clearly defined, there is a good chance that it borrows heavily from the late 17th and early 18th century and the golden age of piracy, when it comes to both ships and fashion sensibilities.

Punk-Factor: Pirates, at least as far as modern media imagines them, tend to be very punk, as they tend to inherently oppose any sort of government and what not. While the punk is not there in all of the stories, a lot of the most popular stories from the genre will feature at least lightly punky elements.

Examples: One Piece (1997), Pirates of the Caribbean (2003), Assassin's Creed IV: Black Flag (2013)

Dungeonpunk

As a genre: So, the idea of the genre is basically “What if Cyberpunk, but Dungeons & Dragons?” Usually set in a vaguely medieval world, this world still shows the same corporate corruption as your usual Cyberpunk world. Adventurers are just another resource to be exploited by the system, their day job involving going on yet another dungeon crawl. For this there might be some technology entirely powered by magic, with those magic items taking over the same functions technology might have in a Cyberpunk world. And yes, indeed some brave dwarf, elf or halfling might rise up and challenge the corporate dungeon syndicate. (As you might sense: Yes, this genre tends to be at least partly a bit of a parody of the punkpunk idea. Though it also can be played straight as “Cyberpunk conflicts, just that all technology is somehow magic.”)

As an aesthetic: This is once again one of the examples, where there is a clear idea behind it – but absolutely no clear aesthetic, as this genre might cover anything from medieval settings to a lot more modern stuff.

Punk-Factor: The base idea, being heavily inspired by the base idea of Cyberpunk, just from a very different perspective. But too many people read the genre as “Magic Technology, yay”, in which case, no, it is not punk.

Examples: Dungeons & Dragons can be played this way, also Final Fantasy VI – XIII definitely counts.

Sandalpunk

As a genre: I mostly include this for the sake of it, because this genre tends to boil down to “fantasy set in ancient Greece or Rome, but with vaguely anachronistic elements”. It might also include alternate history stories (even going so far as Science Fiction) based on the idea “What if Ancient Rome/Ancient Greece never fell?” There is no real overarching themes, even though I could imagine some interesting way one could build those up. So far, though, it is mostly a vague gesture towards: “SciFi Fantasy, but with more ancient civilizations.”

As an aesthetic: The aesthetic is usually just Ancient Rome or Ancient Greece, but with more magic or anachronistic elements.

Punk-Factor: Given the super vague nature of the genre and the fact that it seems more like a genre of hindsight (with most media being declared this having been released even before 2000)… Nobody wrote those stories to be punk. The one punk thing I can see about several of these stories is people challenging Gods, but… That’s about it.Examples: Hercules: Legendary Journeys (1995), Xena: Warrior Princess (1995), God of War (2005)

Stonepunk

As a genre: The basic idea of Stonepunk is, that it is set in a stone age world, but with the technology being pressed towards a very anachronistic end, which is often played for laughs. Basically it gives stone age people a modern seeming world, though not really. Often enough this is used to make a point about the modern world and parody it in some regard. An argument can be made for stories, that feature stone age technology people being somehow subjected to modern technology (for example through time travel or space travel) also possibly falling into this genre.

As an aesthetic: Usually the aesthetic of Stonepunk is one of an overplayed stone age setting. The clothing characters might wear are not what we know is historically more accurate but really just “everyone wears a pelt around their shoulders”. Meanwhile stone age tools get spun to be used as all sorts of modern technologies.

Punk-Factor: The genre does usually not feature punk themes. However, the nature of parodying and challenging the modern world tends to be punk in its own merit, I assume?

Examples: The Flintstones (1960), The Croods (2013), Horizon: Zero Dawn (2017)

That's it. That's the list.

Feel free to add to it.

#long ass post #punkpunk #punk genre #definition #cyberpunk #steampunk #biopunk #nanopunk #solarpunk #lunarpunk #hopepunk #mythpunk #dustpunk #desert punk #atompunk #dieselpunk #teslapunk #arcanepunk #silkpunk #clockpunk #whalepunk #oceanpunk #dungeonpunk #sandalpunk #stonepunk

[decembermidnight]

Bad Attitude

Summary: While on patrol duty, you chase a suspect starship but end up crashing on a freezing planet. Its pilot, a Mandalorian, rescues you, but he doesn't like your attitude towards him and makes sure you understand who is in charge.

Pairing: Din Djarin x f!reader

Word count: 6.1k

Warnings: smut, 18+ mdni, teasing, dom!din, brat!reader, brat tamer!din, Din is really an asshole here lol, improper use of the darksaber, lots of dirty talk, oral (m receiving), breath play, choking, fingering, unprotected sex, exhibitionism, degradation kink, praise kink, creampie

A/N: Loosely based on The Passenger episode and super canon divergent. I just had fun having nasty thoughts! Reblogs and comments are always welcome!! Hope you enjoy it!

Divider: @saradika-graphics

Masterlist - Read on Ao3

You… You really did have to follow that ship on this forsaken planet, didn't you?

You couldn't just listen to your partner Carson for once when he warned you to let it go.

Chasing that Razor Crest despite the bad weather on Maldo Kreis was not the smartest idea. Not smart at all, in fact. 

You were only supposed to ask the pilot why his ship was in the proximity of that prison, Bothan-5, when that officer was killed, but he ran away as soon as he heard that name. You immediately started recklessly chasing that old piece of junk in the hostile atmosphere of this awful, unwelcoming planet, and next thing you know your Starfighter crashed, compromising the integrity of the hatch, you’re cut off from your partner and you’ll likely freeze to death before he can come rescue you. Could it get any worse?

It turns out it can.

Just when you switch the radio off, resigned to accept the unavoidable fate, your eyes seem to catch something dark in the snowstorm. At first you assume it’s just your mind playing tricks on you, but when you take a better look, you see it - there’s a dark figure approaching your ship. It must be him - the Razor Crest pilot. As he gets closer, you notice he’s wearing armour, a Mandalorian armour, and you’ve heard the stories about those deadly warriors. You probably made him angry with your insistent pursuit and now he might be killing you so as not to leave witnesses.

You are so fucked. This is the worst day of your life, and also the last.

He lifts the damaged hatch of your ship and looks at you, exposing you to the freezing air of the blizzard. You stare back at him - his broad figure completely towers over yours, but you try not to look intimidated by him.

"Razor Crest, is that you?" you say in a secure tone, wanting to appear tough.

"Yeah." the modulated voice answers as you feel his dark visor lingering on your figure.

"Came here to finish the job?" you try to sneakily grab your blaster in a desperate attempt to defend your life, determined not to die without fighting, or at least, not without trying. 

"Not if you don't try anything stupid like that. Put it down." says in an authoritative tone, his right hand instinctively goes on the holster of his blaster. You quickly realise this is not the moment for heroism if you want to survive. 

"Don't give me orders. I'm a New Republic officer." you reply firmly.

He scoffs and shakes his head in disdain.

"Dear officer, take a good look around. This frozen tomb doesn't look like New Republic territory to me." he goads you "Now quit it and let's go to my ship."

"Who says I want to come with you?"

"Come on, I’m freezing my ass off, for fuck’s sake." he loses no time in ripping your seatbelt and life support system off your body before grabbing you and carrying you over on his shoulder.

"Put me down! You're so rude!" you protest and try to kick him, but he blocks your legs in the tight grasp of his free arm, immobilising you.

"So far I've been more kind than you deserve. If you keep acting like that, I'll show you how rude I can be." his grip is firm and strong as he gives a warning squeeze to your thigh.

You do not want to admit it, but you feel a thrill of excitement at that - he doesn’t care about the fact that you're a law enforcer, he’s treating you like the scum he’s used to. He probably wants to trade your life for his freedom with Carson later - you’re his hostage now.

When you reach his ship, he finally puts you down. You take off your helmet and look at the Mandalorian that so unceremoniously saved you from certain death earlier.

You realise how much taller than you he is, his armour making him even broader than what he already is. Your eyes can't help lingering on his body in wonder at how strong he must be, how the shiny beskar perfectly completes his thick masculine figure, only adding to his already imposing stance, perfectly concealing his body, making him massive and statuesque. His suit is tight around the arms, you can see the outline of his thick, strong biceps. If only he wasn’t a criminal, if only you weren’t a New Republic officer, if only he wasn’t a complete cunt…

"You done?" a low, baritonal voice interrupts your dirty thoughts.

"Excuse me?" you raise a brow.

"I asked if you're done checking me out."

“What?! I wasn’t-” you lie and you both know it. You do not feel so cold anymore, your cheeks feel hot all of a sudden.

“Yeah. Sure.” the asshole teases as he rests against the wall of his ship, looking at you with crossed arms.

“You hurt?” he then asks.

“No, I’m fine.”

"Good. Let's go up to the cockpit, then. It's warmer up there." 

He climbs up the ladder and when the door closes behind him, you take a deep breath, trying to collect yourself, and follow him. 

When you get in the small room, you find him sitting in the pilot chair facing the windshield with crossed arms and legs spread wide. You settle on his side, standing with crossed arms and gaze fixed on his body. He’s as still and silent as a statue, unreadable under that helmet - is he really relaxed as he wants you to think, or is he carefully studying you? 

"Don't look at me that way." says without moving a muscle.

"How?"

"Same way you've been looking at me since we got on the ship."

"What are you implying?"

"Don't act like you don't know." he turns towards you and stands up, making you imperceptibly startle. He looks imposing and menacing, his helmet slightly tilted observing you.

"You don't trust me one bit, do you?" he scoffs and shakes his head.

"You assaulted that prison and killed that poor man. He was a New Republic officer, just like me. Why should I trust you?”

“Because I didn’t do it.”

“Why should I believe you?”

“What will you do when you find out I was right all along?” the way he doesn’t lose his cool is fascinating, to a degree.

"You’re not. If you were innocent, you wouldn’t have run away and we wouldn't be here now."

He tilts his helmet to the side once again as he looks at you. His gaze and his confidence make you feel hot and uncomfortable at the same time - you wouldn’t want to give out the undeniable way his stoic charm is affecting you, but you hate the way he's been treating you.

"Yeah, we wouldn't be here." he lets out in an allusive tone as he walks one single step forward while you take one back, ending up against the wall. He's so damn tall and broad and… and you're getting so wet. 

You look into his dark visor, feeling his gaze lingering on your body. You can feel the tension, the atmosphere in the cockpit becoming unbearable. It's getting hard to breathe, heat radiating from both of your bodies as you never stop looking at each other. While his sight is unreadable, yours is unmistakably libidinous, your heart pounding in your chest and your pussy throbbing with need, but you're both too proud to surrender first.

"I guess not. You coward." you let out in a far too flirtatious way as you look at him with shameless lust.

"What did you just call me?!" he rasps, sounding so provocative. 

"Coward. That's what you are. Running away from me when I was chasing you and taking me hostage when I was so vulnerable.”

“Shut up.”

“So big and tough in your shiny armour, but you run away as soon as you see a New Republic patrol. I should have just shot you when I had the chance. At least I wouldn’t be sharing this ship with a coward.”

“I said shut up.” 

“What now, Mandalorian? What do you plan to do now that you've kidnapped me? Are you gonna prove me wrong?" you’re wondering if you got too far when he gets dangerously close to you, his menacing figure towering over yours as he grips a handful of your hair, forcing your gaze into his dark visor.

"Do I have to stick my cock in your mouth to make you shut up?"

A flame of lust instantly traverses your body. You feel your blood boiling, making you feel hot and flustered, reason and common sense leaving you at the mercy of a primal, carnal instinct.

"I bet you don't have the balls to do it." you goad him with a smirk on your face.

Oh, you shouldn't have said that, yet you did, and what's worse is that you don't regret it. 

You look at him with shameless desire clouding your eyes, internally cursing at the helmet that can't and won't let you see his reaction to your provocation, waiting for his next move.

You keep your lustful gaze locked on his visor as his hand swiftly unfastens his belt and the zip of his pants. His grip on your hair tightens even more as he pushes you on your knees, immediately sticking his hard, thick cock in your mouth and fuck, the sound he makes. It's worth crashing on a desolated planet and being scolded afterwards. It's guttural and desperate, astonished at how good your poisonous mouth feels when you take him in and your tongue gently swirls around his tip, instead of spitting mean words at him. You keep eye contact as you let the shaft slide in your mouth and coat it generously in your saliva, his head tilted back as he lets out breathy sighs of pleasure.

"You. You need to learn how to fucking behave. Shut up when I tell you to. You have to stop taunting me. Fuck. Is this what you wanted?" 

He takes your head away from his cock to let you answer.

“You’re not as much of a coward as I thought you were.” you tease.

“You are still talking?!” exclaims as he pushes your head towards his cock once again, staying still as he uses your mouth for his pleasure, violently forcing all of his length down your throat. When he rips you away from it, you gasp for breath.

"You look so good like this. On your knees, choking on my cock, finally shutting the fuck up like a good girl." he growls, pleased.

Just as you want more of it, your mouth going towards it once again, his grip on your hair turns to steel and stops you there. You look up to him from your kneeled position and see him shaking his head.

“Why? Are you close already?” you taunt him as he tucks his cock back in his pants.

"Oh, it will take you way more than that to make me come, officer." says as he makes you stand up.

“Bet you want me to prove you wrong so badly. Bet you want to come in my m-” you stop mid sentence as he starts to unzip your flight suit while he pushes you towards the control panel of his ship, making you sit on it and trapping you there with his beskar body, your legs instinctively spread open for him to fit between them.

“Yeah? Go on. What were you saying?” he goads you as his hand slips inside of the thin pants you're wearing under the suit, teasing your clit from outside your underwear.

“I-I was s-saying that - that-” you gasp when his hand finds its way into your panties and reaches your slit.

"Ooh, what do we have here?" exclaims in taunting wonder. His beskar helmet is only a few centimetres distant from your face "Acting all cocky and arrogant before, but damn, feel how wet you are. Bet no one ever made you this wet, officer. Stars, you're dripping for me. All of this just from sucking my cock?" says in a husky voice as two of his thick, gloved fingers slide inside of you.

You grit your teeth in a desperate attempt to hide the way this is making you feel, not wanting to give him satisfaction, but your body is slowly surrendering to him and betraying you, your cunt involuntarily clamping around his fingers, revealing how his words are, in fact, effective on you.

"Oh, I bet you feel so good and you sound so sweet when you moan for me. Feel how hot and tight you are." he keeps teasing you. 

Resisting him is getting near impossible. By now he knows how badly you want it.

"Listen to what we’re gonna do now. You're gonna come on my fingers like a good girl and then I'll fuck you until your partner comes to rescue you."

You can't help it anymore and let out a moan at how sensual his voice sounds as he says those things to you, at the thought of getting fucked by him, all while his fingers keep sliding inside and outside of you, making your cunt spasm around them.

"Oh, I knew it. Damn, such a sweet girl." he rasps as he takes his fingers out.

"What the fuck?!" you snap at him when he does, making him chuckle at your reaction.

"Hey, calm down officer." he teases your lips with his gloved fingers soaked in your arousal. 

You instinctively suck the leather and taste yourself on his fingers, licking them sensually as you look at him in the visor. He hums in pleasure seeing that and goes on playing with your mouth, entranced by the way your tongue swirls around them, until he takes them out and presses his middle finger on your bottom lip.

"Bite." he simply orders and you obey, taking the hem of his glove between your teeth to let his hand slip out of the glove. It's huge compared to yours, callous and veiny and masculine. You hum as it starts trailing down your body and feel the warm trail it leaves on the delicate skin of your neck as he caresses it, your own hands holding tight to the commands of the ship, propping you up to offer yourself to his touch. You can feel his eyes looking at your body from behind the dark visor as his hand slips in your flight suit once again, groping your breast from outside your shirt, his thumb playing with one of your hardened nipples, your back arched and chest puffed out to make it look fuller. You moan loudly when he slides his fingers in your panties and back inside of you. 

"Stars - so fucking wet. I bet your cunt is so beautiful. Spread your legs for me. You're making me so fucking hard." he keeps up the pace and also starts to rub your clit with his thumb, making the pleasure you’re feeling unable to hide and you surrender to him, panting heavily as your eyes cross and roll in delight.

"Really? Eyes rolling, officer?" he taunts you.

"F-fuck y-you-" you rasp with half closed eyes, your sentence gets interrupted as he hooks his fingers, touching something devastating inside of you, making him scoff when he sees the way you squeeze your eyes shut and arch your back, your mouth wide open to let out obscene moans.

"What? Do you want me to stop?" he provokes you.

"Don't you fucking dare." you manage to let out in a barely audible sigh.

He immediately grabs your neck, not liking the way you undermine his authority.

"Careful now, officer." he growls.

You moan back in response at how much you like this - being put back into place, the Mandlaorian reminding you who is in control. You hold tight to his sides, digging your nails in his flight suit as he just pushes you further against the control panel with his body.

You’re a panting mess and you feel so close, so damn close to your orgasm. You beg he won’t stop as you wrap your legs around him. He feels by the irregular, ragged way you're breathing and the way your muscles go rigid around him that you're close.

"What? Coming already?” he chuckles “I will let you just because I want to fuck you so badly. Now come, my dear officer. Come for me."

You pant straight into his helmet when you hear him calling you like that, fogging it where his mouth would be. His hand pushes you over the edge and you moan loudly as he makes you come around his fingers, your hands holding tight to his neck, bringing him down towards you. Your back arches, chest rubbing against his armour and you roll your head back until it hits the transparisteel of the windshield behind you. Your nails scratch him hard and your legs’ grip becomes even tighter, his upper body now trapped in your grasp.

He grabs your chin with his other hand and forces you to look at him in the visor.

"Yes - yes, yes. Like this. Good girl." he growls between his teeth, looking at you as you struggle to keep your gaze on him, your eyes wanting to roll up in pleasure.

He lets you ride your high, never stopping those astounding moves of his hand, making you feel so satisfied, but so guilty and humiliated at the same time.

As the orgasm gradually fades out, your grip on his body loosens.

He takes out his hand right in front of your eyes and, Maker, it's soaking wet, glistening in your arousal. You’re both embarrassed and aroused when you see how wet and yielding you got for him as soon as he started touching you. 

"Damn, officer. How am I going to-"

You don't even let him finish, you've taken his hand in yours and start sucking his fingers. He lets out a satisfied hum when you do that. You clean them thoroughly, sensually massaging his digits with your tongue, humming as you hear him cursing between his teeth in a foreign language.

Once he’s satisfied, he takes them out of your avid mouth.

"Now strip for me, officer. I bet you look so hot under that uniform."

"Forget it." you tease him.

"Too bad you didn't obey me when I asked so nicely."

In an instant his hands start ripping the flight suit off your body as you're kicking out of your boots at the same time. It's rushed, brutal and wild, the both of you completely taken over by lust. His hands linger on your sides, giving you goosebumps and making you sigh when he lifts the thermal shirt off your body and you hold on tight to the panel when he hooks his fingers in the hem of your pants and pulls everything down and away from your body, leaving you completely naked in front of him.

“You look… Good without your uniform on, officer.” he is pleased looking at your naked body. “Wonder if I could say the same about you, Mandalorian.” “You’ll have to use your imagination."

“Are you even a real Mandalorian? Maybe you stole this armour, or maybe you bought it off some Jawas.” you mock him.

"Come here and I’ll show you." he simply says as he sits back on his chair, legs spread wide and a visible bulge in his pants.

Just as you get close to him, he takes out one of his weapons, a strange sword without a blade, and begins to trace your nipple with the hilt. You start to breathe heavily and you can feel your nipple getting harder by the second, your eyes carefully following his movements as he descends ever so slowly, teasing you, trailing your stomach and then your lower belly, stopping right in front of your cunt, driving you crazy, your legs spreading for him, begging for some friction. He softly brushes your lips, carefully avoiding your clit to tease you further, until he finally touches it. The sudden contact of the hilt with your sensitive clit makes you shudder and let out a whimper.

"Don't. Move." he orders as he continues to touch you with that weapon, rubbing it against your clit, producing obscene, wet sounds at the contact. You try to stay as still as you can as he plays with that dangerous weapon so close to your most delicate spot. You beg he'd go faster, you wish you could ride it and come all over it, as pathetic as it sounds, but no, he doesn't want that. He wants to take his time to tease you, getting you nice and wet as he plays with you like you're his toy.

He stands up, towering over you.

"Stick your tongue out."

You immediately do and he starts to trace your mouth with the hilt.

"This is the Darksaber. Whoever wields it can rule all of Mandalore, and you're licking it after I've used it to give you pleasure. Feel how wet you’ve made it. How does that make you feel?"

“Like you should sit down on that chair and take out that cock. Touch yourself while I lick your Darksaber clean, Mandalorian.”

He grunts as you push him back on his chair. He immediately unzips his pants to take his throbbing cock out as you keep licking his weapon clean, pleased at the sight of his erection in his hand.

"Touch yourself for me, Mando" you order him as you trace your tongue on the hilt.

"Enough of that." he grabs you by the hair and pushes you on your knees, forcing you to suck his cock. In a swift movement he grabs the Darksaber with his two hands, using it as leverage to keep your head down, forcing his entire cock into your throat, making you startle at the sudden lack of air.

"You don't get to give me orders." he growls before freeing you from his grasp to let you breathe. You gasp for air and look at him, panting.

Maker, he's so dangerous. He could kill you in one second if he wanted to, and you've never, never been wetter than this, playing this dangerous, twisted game with a deadly warrior.

He gives you a few seconds to breathe and then he's back at it, using his weapon to make you choke on his cock.

"Do you understand? I can do whatever I want to you." he releases you once again. There are tears in the corner of your eyes but that doesn't stop him from doing that one more time.

"You're so fucking pretty, but you also need someone to tame you. You've found the right man. Is that what you were looking for, officer? Someone to tame that bad temper?" he says and releases you one more time. You gasp for air as one tear sheds down your cheek.

"Come here. I'll fuck that bad attitude out of you." he orders as he puts the Darksaber away.

This. This is what you've always been craving, what you always wanted.

You slowly rise from the cold floor, your hands on his thighs as you can't stop looking at each other with longing desire. You straddle him, shaking in anticipation as you sink on his body guided by his hands on your hips, letting his cock slowly slide inside of you. The both of you moan as his cock splits you open for him, making him feel how hot and welcoming you are. You both let out a long, satisfied sigh, his voice is dark and sensual and you spasm around his throbbing cock, heavily aroused to finally have him inside of you.

“Mando, let me see if you're only good with words now."

“Din. I want to hear you screaming my name when I’ll make you come on my cock, officer.”

“You’re pretty confident in your abilities, Mandalorian.”

“Your mouth might say otherwise, but your body agrees with me.” he's so arrogant and full of himself, his confidence is making you wet.

“It does” you concede “you feel good, Din.” you purr in his neck, and he grunts when he hears how sweet your voice can be as you whisper his name while you have his cock buried inside of you. You start riding him slowly, looking at him in the visor as you feel every ridge and vein of his cock, enjoying every single moment of it, letting him almost slip out, only to let him back inside of you. He lets out sighs of satisfaction that drive you insane and only want to make you increase your rhythm but no, not yet, you want to make him pay for the way he's been treating you.

“If I had known my cock would have been enough to tame your bad temper, I’d have fucked you earlier.”

“What about yours, Din? What should I do about you being an asshole to me?” you say as you pull him out of you, making him grunt.

“Fuck. Put it back in.” 

“Not so fast. I want you to behave. Beg for it.” 

“You know I could just take you anytime I want, right?” “I do. But where would the fun be?”

He hums in pleasure as you take his drenched cock in your hand and start to slowly stroke it right in front of your cunt, moaning in his neck just to get him even more aroused.

“Fuck. You’re good at this.” he whimpers.

You start to slide it between your folds, the both of you moaning in arousal.

“Dank Farrik, d-do you want me to die?” he growls, subjugated by your teasing. “I want you to behave.” you whisper in a heady groan as you keep rolling your hips and rubbing your pussy on his cock. “F-fuck. I want to be inside of you so badly.”

“Say it.”

He sighs and pauses, taking a good look at the tip of his cock teasing your entrance.

“Please.” 

“Please what?” you ask, biting your lip in pleasure.

“Please put my cock back inside of you, officer.” there's a hint of annoyance in his voice when he surrenders and sees your satisfied smirk.

“Good.” you whisper gasping against his helmet as you slowly slide his cock deep back inside of you. 

That’s the moment when he digs his fingers in your hips and starts jackhammering you, making you scream as he said he would, your hands clawing on his shoulders.

“Who do you think you are? Do you think you can taunt me? I’m a Mandalorian. A bounty hunter. Bet you’ve never been fucked so good, officer. I’m gonna give you this cock so hard, you’ll never forget about me. You’ll be touching yourself thinking about me for the rest of your life. Thinking about the Mandalorian Din Djarin who fucked your brains out on Maldo Kreis.”

The way he's fucking hard and rough into you as he says those things in an angry, husky voice is pleasurably devastating and addicting, having you moan frantically as your body is held still by his strong hands.

"Oh, fuck, Din, don't stop. Don't stop!" you let out in a desperate cry.

"Do you want to come on my cock, officer? Let me hear it. I want to hear you beg for it."

"Please, please Din, make me come on your cock." you drawl, subjugated by lust.

"Mmm - you sound so hot when you beg for me. Keep going and I won't stop."

"Please! I've never been fucked like this, Din." your heart is racing, your breathing is getting laboured and feel the orgasm approaching “I'm so close, Din, so fucking close. Please, don’t stop."

"Come, officer. Keep riding my cock and come on it. I want to hear you scream my name." 

"Oh, Din!" you scream his name as the overwhelming force of the orgasm washes over you, a white blaze of bliss making you lose control, uncontrollably spasming and sensually moaning as he doesn't stop giving it to you, groaning in pleasure when he feels how tight and wet you get around him when you come on his dick.

"That's it. That's my good girl." he grunts as he lets you ride your orgasm.

His rhythm slows down as you come back from your high, his hands still firmly on your hips, guiding you, making you slowly grind your pussy against his cock, the cockpit full of your pants.

"Ready for round two, officer?"

He doesn’t even wait for your response, your mind still fogged by the astonishing orgasm he just gave you.

He gets up from the chair and in a second he turns you around, your body slammed against the control panel and the windshield, your wrists held up high by his hand. Your legs are shaking and you can't really seem to stand on your feet properly.

You couldn't possibly be ready for him slamming his dick inside of you all at once, so hard that air leaves your lungs in an exhale. You'd curse at him, but you can't articulate words as he is fucking you so violently, his strong hand on your hip keeping you still. If you thought he was fucking you hard earlier, it's nothing compared to now - feeling all the power of his body giving it to you wild and raw is pleasurably devastating. You couldn't possibly have imagined that what he gave you earlier was merely foreplay for him, just a little tease before making sure you knew who is really in charge and how hard he can fuck you. He was just letting you have a small taste of what would happen after, wanting you to get ready for him, nice and wet and stretched open for his thick cock to split you in half. He grabs a fistful of your hair and you feel his helmet close to your ear.

"What? You're out of breath already? I'm just getting started, officer." he slides it out almost completely and slams it back in so hard you roll your eyes in pleasure.

"Look at you. Loving this dick so much you're rolling your eyes. Gonna fuck you so hard, you'll learn how to fucking behave." 

You can't do anything besides taking his cock and letting out choked moans.

"Still regret being stuck here with me? Tell me. Do you still think I'm a coward?" he growls in between thrusts.

You can barely drawl a moan in response and he chuckles.

"Yeah, I don't think so. You can't even speak." he mocks you as he pounds into you harder and harder, devastating you, reducing you to a pathetic, moaning mess.

"Who knows if the snow storm has stopped and your partner is looking for you. What if he sees you getting fucked like this?"

You know it's wrong, but the thought turns you on so much that you clench around him, and he feels it.

"Oh, you'd like it? Officer, what do we have here? A little whore?" you hear his dark chuckle as he grips your throat with his hand, bringing you closer to him - the hot, naked skin of your back against his cold beskar armour as he never stops railing you. 

Getting called like that in other circumstances, by any other person in the galaxy, would have caused you to shoot them immediately, but now, oh, did that turn you on.

"You like being called that way, don't you? Whore." he whispers softly in your ear, and it drives you insane despite how much you're trying to hide it. He feels your body getting rigid, the vibrations of your throat choking a moan, the way you bite your lip trying not to let one sound out, and you can bet he's loving every second of it. 

His other hand starts to rub your clit and that's when you fucking lose it - your mouth opens wide and lets out a loud groan of pleasure.

"Tell me you're my whore and I'll give you the best orgasm of your life."

You hesitate - his request is so degrading, but you want it at the same time. He can sense your indecisiveness and stops drawing circles on your clit and starts going around it, carefully avoiding it.

"N-no. Don't stop. It's unfair!" you whimper.

"Say it."

You try to relieve the ache between your legs by bringing a hand there, but he is quick to stop you and block your wrist behind your back, immobilising you as if you were one of his bounties, getting you even more aroused, so much, in fact, that you let out another groan.

"Don't make me handcuff you." he growls sensually and you immediately picture him fighting criminals every day, used to manhandling thugs and being a badass and you get even more aroused at the thought, and decide to give him whatever he wants.

You mumble those words, barely audible, ashamed but at the same time yielding, desperately and pathetically wanting him to give you what you so achingly crave, in a way that only he can provide. A need that you never even realised existed before he brought you into the highest dimension of pleasure.

"What? I didn't hear you."

"I am your whore." you whisper, annihilated.

"Good girl. Say it again. Louder this time."

"I am your whore, Din! Please, please make me come like this!" you surrender to him completely, defeated by your very body refusing to let this slip away.

"That's my girl. You asked so nicely, I'm gonna give it to you." you hear the satisfaction in his voice as he immediately starts to rub your clit again, driving you close to the edge in no time, your cunt getting tighter in anticipation.

“Shit, I want to come inside of you. I'm so fucking close, officer. You’re gonna patrol the outer rim, flying your Starfighter while my cum drips down your beautiful cunt. You’re gonna feel that and you will think of me the entire time.” he rasps in your ear as you feel his body pushing you further into the transparisteel and then over the edge, making you come screaming his name once again rolling your eyes over your lids, desperately begging him to come inside of you.

His groans get louder and louder as he comes. You feel his is cock pulsing and twitching, thrusting into you, wanting to go as deep as it can go, filling you with his hot release as you clamp erratically around him.

Both of your bodies are spent as you come back from your high, the sound of your laboured breathing fills the cockpit.

"Hey" he pants "keep it inside now. I don't want to see a single drop going to waste. Are we clear?"

You nod and he slips out of you slowly as you obey his order, keeping his release inside of you as you get dressed, feeling it drip between your legs as he walks you back to your ship.

Carson is already there - he has fixed the minor damages your X-wing had sustained when you crashed in the snow, confident in the fact that you found shelter somewhere and that you’re safe and will be back soon.

What he did not expect is for you to show up with the Mandalorian by your side, though.

"Can I have a few words with you?" he asks with a raised brow.

You nod and walk a few steps away from Din, going behind your ship to have some privacy.

"He saved my life." you regretfully admit before he even has a chance to speak, expecting a scolding.

"Listen. I run the tabs on the Razor Crest. It seems like your new friend has an arrest warrant on him for the abduction of a prisoner." he pauses briefly and lets out a sigh "But he has also captured three wanted culprits and tried to save the Lieutenant's life."

"I'd say we let him go this time. I really don't want to file a report about what happened. I hate doing that."

"Is that so?" he asks sarcastically.

"These are trying times, come on."

Carson raises his brow once again, looking at you and then at the armoured menace standing a few steps away from him.

“Fine.” he shrugs, not wanting to dig deeper with regards to your change of mind towards the Mandalorian, then gets back to his ship.

You jump in your X-wing, but before closing the hatch and taking off, you address Din one more time.

"We're even now, Din Djarin. See you next time, and don't get caught."

#din djarin #the mandalorian #din djarin smut #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x you #din x reader #mandalorian fanfic #mandalorian smut #mando x you #mando smut #mando x reader #mando #din djarin fanfiction #din x you #din x f!reader #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian x you #mandalorian x female character #mandalorian x female reader #oneshot #star wars smut #smut #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal #pedro pascal smut #din djarin x reader

[imhenritz]

Giving him the love he deserves (Sanji x Reader)

I have had this idea in my head for quite some time. I enjoyed writing it, but I don't know how to continue and if I would.

Reader is Mc or Main Character, but I made it sound like it's a name! I'm too lazy to think of a real name. Forgive me! Y/N didn't feel right somehow *sweats* Could this still be considered x reader? Oh god.

The prompt in my head goes like this: "The reader gets sucked into One Piece after wishing that someone would love Sanji like he is supposed to be loved, as nobody has given him a chance. She would love to give him that chance if only she could. One time, she was in her room, falling asleep while recording her voice for a cover request sent to her. When she woke up, she found herself in a boat floating, wearing pieces of jewelry fit for nobility. Her neck, ears, and bracelets were all glittering in the darkness." Story under the cut! Part 2 here!

She hated the dark. There were no lights to be seen, and her eyes adjusted to the darkness, recognizing she had been in a lifeboat. A medieval one; she knew this because of museums she had visited, always drawn to pirate ships, wondering how it would be then.

Everything was quiet, like she was completely alone and trapped. Shouting would be pointless at this point. Absent-mindedly, she started singing "Jolly Sailor Bold." It had been a few days; she was starving and weak. She caught herself and huffed, “If I die, I might as well go in style,” she continued.

She kept repeating it until she got tired and chose to lie down and look up at the stars. They were never this clear in her city.

When she woke up, it was with a man with a braided blonde mustache talking to a few more men. “Ah, the lass. Must be shipwrecked.”

“-Must be loaded…”

“Jewelries…”

She could barely catch their whispers. Groggy and weak, she looked up at the man. It must have been dawn. “Please help me.” Holding her throat, she felt the jewels that were like stones. “Take everything-” She wet her lips, trying to swallow the moisture in her mouth, which she didn’t think was there. “Jewel… Please.”

She lost the ability to talk but could feel a soft arm taking her in. The smell of aftershave and nicotine lulled her to sleep.

“I got you, Madame.”

She woke up to Sanji greeting her with food and saw her eat it without any grace, making him let out a chuckle, and she glared weakly, more embarrassed than mad. “I’m sorry; I lost count of how long I was in the sea.”

“Try 85 days.”

“What—85?” her eyes widened as he grinned. He gestured to the seat next to her bed, and she nodded. “I’m sorry. I think I was only there for a week—”

He shook his head. “It’s not about the days. It’s experiencing hunger. You gave up every bit of your jewelry, you know.”

She reached for her neck and huffed. “Those jewels meant nothing if you can’t eat or drink.”

“Damn right.”

Her eyes went to the door, where she recognized the man who saved her. She thought she was in a dream before, but it’s uncanny how both are real-life versions of Zeff, and now looking at the young blond man at her side—Sanji?

“You’re an aristocrat. I’m sure a few pieces won’t go missing,” the older man grumbled. He kicked the young blond’s head. “Give up the seat, little eggplant.”

Sanji lookalike grumbled but did mutter, “Old shit bag.”

She gasped, blinking, piecing things together. “Little eggplant…” she muttered in disbelief.

“I assure you it has nothing to do with—”

Zeff lookalike chuckled. “I assure you he is every single bit of a little eggplant,” he smirked and brushed his mustache down, making them bounce up, resisting the brush. “They call me Zeff. What’s your name, lass?”

“Mc, sir,” she bowed deeply. “I owe you my life, Sir Zeff. Please let me repay you somehow.”

“Another one on the bag,” he mumbled.

The blond man saw the chance and began, “My name is Sanji. You can call me whatever you—”

“—Your family must be looking for you. Where are you from?” Zeff watched as she gulped and looked away from him, mouth opening and closing with no words. “I can’t let you stay here and be seen as a kidnapper—”

“—Old man, what if she runs away? We have extra rooms—”

“No, no stuff on the boat. It’s shipwrecked. Can’t let the place close because of a stowaway—”

“NO!” she stopped him with a loud voice, causing both to stop. “I’m sorry. This might sound crazy, but I’m not from around here. I don’t think I am,” she gulped.

“Could you have amnesia?”

She sighed and shook her head. “Please don’t kill me, but I think I know who you are and where I am. Please let me finish.”

She gave them a recap of what she knew, and both men were quiet. She pulled on her IV, hissing at the pain. “I’m sorry. I will go now; I’m sure you won’t want anyone like me here, after knowing all of those. I think the jewels are real. Although I’m not sure if they are since I just woke up wearing them—”

“You are staying, lass.”

“I know. I’m sorry—let me.” She stood, but her legs didn’t work as they were supposed to, and she fell on her knees. Sanji was there to help her.

“I know I gave you 85 days as a hint. But damn, giving out the whole story. So you know me and everything?”

She nodded, and Zeff began to laugh. “Just when I thought I had seen all the world has to offer.”

“You’re just going to accept this, you old man?”

Zeff smirked, “Anyone could have lied better than that.” He looked at Mc and smiled. “I won’t have a freeloader here. You know what this place is, then.”

She nodded, “I can wash the dishes, clean the toilet—wait tables.”

“God no. I don’t need a woman in my kitchen or in the toilet. You’ll wait tables. You start tomorrow.”

Sanji stood, still supporting her. “She can’t even walk!” he protested.

Zeff was about to reply when she patted Sanji’s hand. “I’ll start tomorrow, sir Zeff. Thank you so much.”

"Just Zeff will do, lass"Zeff grumbled and began walking to the door, hearing Sanji sweet-talking her as she left. “Patty will help you with your clothes.”

Sanji paused and shouted, “Old man, Patty won’t know what fashion is if it knocks on his head!”

Zeff glared. “More than you.”

**===**

“I have to say, having the girl waiting on tables isn’t bad,” Patty said, seeing how everyone can actually work in the kitchen better now. She works fast, and all the cooks have to do is the labor of bringing out the heavy meals.

“She has a great smile, pleasing personality—”

“Charming!”

“A sight for sore eyes, you lot aren’t,” Patty chortled, laughing as he proceeded to cart in the finished meals. He smirked, seeing one certain sous chef who was grumbling under his breath as he was stirring a pot. He walked closer, pushing the cart to a designated dishwasher for the week. “Got to get a move on that soup.”

Sanji glared and hissed, “What does it look like I’m doing?”

“Never thought I’d see the day you would hate being in the kitchen,” Patty leaned forward from the preparation counter.

“Who hates being in the kitchen?” Zeff entered, making Patty straighten up and busy himself, but not before smirking with Carne. “The shit cook wants to wait tables, boss.”

Zeff rolled his eyes, “He is staying in the kitchen. Can’t afford to have him kick another customer out on a whim.”

Sanji took off the ladle he had been stirring and turned, “He was flirting with Mc!”

“And?” Zeff huffed, “You do the same with every woman who darkens the door, little eggplant.”

“Yeah!” Carne added, “She must have learned that from you! That woman charms women and men! Makes you look like an amateur!”

They laughed. “Someone’s getting a taste of their own medicine.”

“Ooooh, getting a taste of their medicine?” Mc walked in, heels clicking on the tiled floor, smiling. “Who is it this time?” She looked expectantly at everyone, who dispersed. “Hey!”

Sanji was about to float over to her when Zeff interrupted. “Lass, your notepad seems to be getting thinner.”

Mc looked down at her little notepad, with a grimace she apologized. “Sorry, Zeff, I just take so many notes. I would need a new one tomorrow.”

Zeff chuckled, “Those notes make customers feel like you’ve known them forever. Take this and buy yourself a whole stack of notes—”

“—Thank you!”

“I can, of course, escort you tomorrow!” Sanji offered, now getting to Mc, who was glowing from the berries that Zeff had handed over.

“Oh no, no need, Sanji. It’s just notes. I can handle it.”

“Get the lass the notebook from my room, Sanji. This one won’t last the night.”

Mc smiled at Sanji, and he went tapping Carne, gesturing to the pot.

As soon as Sanji left, he pulled out a list. “Take him to carry stuff.”

“Oh, okay,” Mc nodded, going over the list that had meat and rice on it. “That makes sense. It’ll be best to get everything at once.” She gasped. “I almost forgot we got this order from table 8, 5, and 2!” ripping off three papers and pinning them overhead of the pot Sanji was cooking.

She breezed out of the kitchen when the bell rang. “Thank you again, Zeff!”

She exited the door when Zeff hollered, “Buy yourself something else too!”

If she was drawn at that moment, she would surely have flowers in the background.

Carne looked at Zeff, who just returned it with a raised brow. “We got enough ingredients for next week.”

Zeff brushed his braided mustache. “The little eggplant deserves the break for how obedient he has been lately,” he chuckled. “Even volunteered to wait tables!”

**===**

“I’m pretty sure by the way you keep feeding me this expensive food, I’ll be in debt forever, Ji,” Mc sighed in content as she savored the dessert she just served earlier, which cost berries she'd earn in a day.

“Then you’ll stay forever with me,” Sanji winked, wiping the utensils they washed together dry.

Mc grinned, “You won’t hear me complaining,” taking another bite, she remembered something, causing her to pause.

Sanji paused and bit his cheek, watching the spoon in her mouth and her fishing out a paper and sliding it to him. “I hope this is a love letter.”

Mc pulled the spoon clean and held it up. “Unfortunately not, I thought about giving you one with the orders, but I don’t know if Carne or Patty will process the order instead, so I held back.”

Sanji blinked. Mc had always flirted back with him and accepted his flirtations, but he always thought it was a game they were playing. She was just charming, and she knew his past; why would someone like that return his love?

“I have a favor to ask, Sanji.”

He raised a brow, taking the paper but not opening it. “It’s a yes, whatever it is, darling.”

Mc opened her mouth to respond as if it was their usual game when she paused and stopped his hand from picking up the slid paper he just covered with his hand.

“Take me out on a date.”

His mind stopped. He watched her eyes, vulnerable and sincere. “Darling…” he trailed.

She can’t be playing with him. She must know how he couldn’t resist females, especially not her. Someone he treasures.

They went on a date. He planned it all out. She made him feel like he is the only man she could see. It was addicting to have all her attention just on him.

**===**

No one asked how old she was; no one was crude enough to ask, not with him, Carne, Patty around. She had always acted maturely. He was sure she was young, younger than him in appearance at least. Her mental age was around mid or late 20’s. Her actions were so, as he observed from their patrons.

It had been years since she drifted on their restaurant. Ever since his 19th birthday, Sanji had noticed her checking the orders or peeking at the customers as if waiting for someone or loud noises. She knew what was going to happen but refused to tell, afraid it won’t happen.

Then the chore boy appeared. Mc was so gentle and nice to him, always saving him and sneaking him food and patting his head. It wasn’t like she wasn’t giving him attention, but she was giving more energy to him. He didn’t like it one bit.

It was night; she was out for her regular singing at night, a small boat a few meters away from the restaurant. She never told anyone; they believed she assumed nobody could hear her, but they did. Everyone kept their windows open to hear her sing.

In her long nightgown covering everything but her hands and face. The glow of the night lamp she brought with her gave her a soft, ethereal glow.

“I always wanted a musician! Be my friend!”

Sanji’s heart leaped. If she left with the chore boy, he would never see her again. She smiled and patted the boy’s head, pushing his straw hat out of the way. “I can only play the guitar and not that well though.”

“Who cares? We can find one that plays music! We’re friends now!”

Her peal of laughter filled the darkness. “I’ll be just a singer then?” she smiled and sighed, “I would only in one condition.”

“Condition?”

She urged him closer and whispered, and before the boy could shout it, she held a finger on his lips. “You can’t tell anyone.” Part 2 here! Thank you for reading! I've never written for Sanji or One Piece before, but this idea won't let me sleep. It's a shame to leave it in my drafts to collect dust. Here's my tribute!

#opla sanji #sanji x reader #sanji x reader fluff #one piece sanji #sanji #sanji fluff #sanji x you #black leg sanji #luffy #red leg zeff #zeff #drabble #one piece live action #one pice #one piece fanfiction #one piece fluff #one piece netflix #op live action #straw hat pirates #baratie #Giving him the love he deserves (Sanji x Reader)

[brigdh]

I want to talk about Izzy's rant to Ed in episode 10, the one that brings out the Kraken. I've seen a lot of different descriptions of what is going on in this scene – death threat, homophobic slurs, etc – and I don't think either of those are what's actually what's happening.

Let's look at it closely, line by line, and the way Ed reacts, from the very beginning of the scene.

Ed: Well, feels nice to tidy up a little. Can't believe I was living like this. Can you, Iz? Izzy? Izzy: I'm going to speak plainly. Ed: Wonderful. You know we share our thoughts on this ship.

Izzy, cont: This, whatever it is that you've become... is a fate worse than death.

Okay. So there we've got what some have interpreted as a death threat. But does Ed seem threatened? He's startled, certainly, put on his back foot – literally – but he doesn't look afraid or alarmed to me. He draws in a slow breath, assessing the situation, but overall seems more confused than frightened.

In fact he laughs it off with his next line:

Izzy then escalates the level of aggression in the conversation:

But Ed, again, looks more confused than anything. Check out that furrowed brow, that head tilt! This is a man going "what is your deal?", not a man thinking "uh-oh, you might kill me!".

Extremely noticeably, even when Izzy storms right up into his face, Ed holds steady. He doesn't run, doesn't lean back, doesn't hunch his shoulders or drop eye contact – there is no vulnerability or defensiveness in Ed's body language at all. Ed is in supreme control of this confrontation – look at the slow way he deigns to turn back to the paper Izzy's holding! As though he's making the point that he chooses when to turn, not Izzy:

Then we have the "homophobic slur". But watch closely:

Ed does not react to "namby-pamby", "silk gown", or "pining" at all. He doesn't even blink. He barely seems like he's hearing Izzy. His entire attention is on the picture.

Ed's body language and behavior changes at one word and one word only, and that is "boyfriend". As soon as Izzy says it, Ed's furious:

(It's even easier to notice when you actually watch the scene instead of using gifs, because Izzy really draws out 'piiiiiiining', putting a lot of time between the first half of the sentence and 'boyfriend'.)

Why is the use of the word 'boyfriend' so important?

Well, what has Ed been doing all episode? He's been crying in a blanket fort and singing sad songs, yes, but he's been keeping a careful level of mystique about why he's doing it. Ed often uses distanced circumlocutions instead of directly acknowledging his emotions, but he's doing it in this episode even more so than usual:

Here are the lyrics to his song:

(Version one, with Lucius) Hanging on By a thread Hanging on Shouldn't let go If I let go, all will fall Fingers bleeding down to the bone now Can't let go Nothing makes sense Hold on Hold on Hold... on

(Version two, performed for the whole crew) Just let go Make yourself let go Make it go away Away, away today Life's a hard sad death And then you're Deaaad

Notice something? There is no mention of Stede, or love, or break-ups, or abandonments, or relationships in general. All Ed discusses is a vague life-sucks attitude, which could apply to basically anyone under any circumstances. He seems pretty okay with people knowing that Blackbeard is having some sort of weird emotional breakdown as long as he convinces himself that no one knows it's specifically from having his heart broken

This is true of everything Ed says and does for this entire episode. He never once even mentions Stede's name, unless "Farewell, Bonnet's playthings" at the very end counts. The only thing Ed openly admits to feeling bad about is a fictional character who's having a hard time "holding on" (holding on to what? he never says). There are no allusions to heartbreak or romance anywhere in his dialogue.

Now, Ed's not stupid. I'm sure he knows Izzy and Lucius and the rest of the crew can connect the dots and realize that something bad happened with Stede, even if Ed doesn't fill them in on the details. But Ed is also traumatized, and has a whole host of coping mechanisms set up to help him avoiding thinking about things that he doesn't want to think about. If he's not a murderer because "technically the fire killed those guys", then no one knows he's heartbroken because technically he hasn't acknowledged it.

Until Izzy says the word 'boyfriend'. Suddenly the secret is out, and Ed can't handle it. Izzy knows his weakness. That's why this word effects Ed more than anything else Izzy says in the whole scene.

At the end of the confrontation, he hears the crew calling for another song. Look at Ed here. He looks as haunted, as disturbed, in this moment as he does at any point in Izzy's rant.

This is an important part of the scene, not just a closing note. Because if Izzy (the Caribbean's most emotionally constipated man) can see through him, obviously the whole crew can too.

Obviously Lucius – who advised Ed on his and Stede's relationship, who played along with Ed's 'fictional character' claim, who wrote down Ed's lyrics – can do so most of all.

There's a direct emotional logic to Ed killing Lucius because he had a fight with Izzy, and it doesn't involve Ed having been threatened or hate crime'd at all. Ed doesn't deal well with his own feelings (from Stede), so he chooses to become Blackbeard/the Kraken and gets rid of all the witnesses who saw otherwise.

#meta #our flag means death #I've been thinking about writing this up for a while but finally got motivated to finish it before S2

[make-me-imagine]

Something Better

Plot: When you return to an island you used to call home, you run into an old flame. Zoro takes matters into his own hands to get some long-awaited retribution for you.

Requested By: Anonymous

Pairing: Roronoa Zoro x Gn!Reader

Warnings: Allusions to cheating and toxic relationships. Mentions of violence (past-tense). Brief description of injuries.

Words: 2,375

As the once familiar shore grew closer, you felt a pit in your stomach deepening. The island approaching had been a home for you for some years, but by the time you left, you had been certain you would never want to return. All of those fond memories of a new adventure on a once unknown island, were tainted by the same person who had brought you there in the first place.

Feeling eyes on you from the crew you let out a soft sigh.

"I thought you used to live here, why do you look so miserable? I thought you would be glad to be back."

You glanced at Nami as she spoke before you shook your head softly, "I left for a reason."

"What reason?"

You looked over at Zoro as he spoke, your heart palpitating. How would he react if you told the story? Would he care at all?

He studied your eyes and you remained silent, as you debated if you should tell the story now, later, or never.

"Did you get in trouble?" Sanji asked with curiosity.

"Did you get kicked out?" Usopp asked with a mouth full of popcorn.

Before you could answer Luffy stood up and smelled the air, "Do you smell that?"

You finally looked away from the others before you nodded, "Seafood gumbo, the islands most famous dish."

Stepping away from the railing you left the previous asked questions unanswered as you prepared to dock the ship. You reminded yourself you were only stopping for supplies, you'd only be here for a day or two. You might not even see the reason you left the island in the first place.

Or so you hoped. Surely fate wouldn't be so cruel, right?

The familiar sights and smells engulfed you as you walked through the market with Zoro. The others had wandered off looking for various supplies. Why Zoro stuck by your side, you weren't sure, not that you were complaining. You and the broody swordsman had grown close recently.

A few people even recognized you as you passed stalls. It felt good in a weird way, if it weren't for the lingering pit in your stomach.

"Well, you aren't hiding, and people aren't exactly trying to chase you off or arrest you. So I would assume you didn't leave the island because you did something bad."

"Good observation skills." You said with a hint of sarcasm, earning a soft smile from Zoro.

You knew he was asking what happened, without actually asking what happened. You let out a soft breath.

"I moved here with someone. We were young and wanted an adventure. I thought he was my future, but to him, I was just one option of many. He cheated on me, lied to me, used me and embarrassed me, so I left. "

Zoro's hand softly twisted around the hilt of his sword. "Sounds like a catch."

You scoffed before stopping at a stall with the islands local fruit. You gently held one in your palm, reminiscing of the flavor you once loved. Zoro watched you closely, wondering if the pain you felt here still lingered, or if it was strictly resentment.

Hearing your name called from nearby, you and Zoro turned to see a tall man headed towards you, surprise in his eyes and a smirk on his lips. Zoro eyed him as your stomach twisted.

"Speak of the Devil." You muttered, just loud enough for Zoro to hear, causing his grip to tighten around his sword.

"Well, well, well, look who came back." The man grinned as he stopped just in front of you. His eyes raked over you and Zoro felt his jaw clench in anger.

"Well, well, well, look who never left." You countered, in a similar condescending tone.

He continued to smile, but you saw a small twinge of the eye you knew as a familiar sign of annoyance.

"To what do we owe the honor of your return?"

"You don't need to know." Zoro broke in, causing your ex to finally look over at the swordsman.

He looked Zoro up and down with a soft smirk. "Oh I'm sorry, I didn't notice your bodyguard here."

Zoro took a small step closer, his eyes piercing. "Well now you do."

You saw your ex swallow hard, as he tried to keep his composure, not used to anyone not backing down from him. You couldn't help the smile that graced your face as you saw Zoro's actions.

Reaching out, you gently grabbed Zoro's arm before giving your ex a hard look.

"Like he said, you don't need to know why I'm here."

Leaving the fruit stall behind, you walked away, Zoro kept an eye on your ex before moving to follow you.

After a few moments you side-eyed Zoro, "So, you're my bodyguard now?"

Zoro's lip curled slightly, "I guess I am."

Zoro sighed with contentment as he set down his half empty glass. The people in the bar chattered and laughed around him.

His mind kept wandering to you and the story you felt you couldn't share. The thought of how your ex had treated you caused his gut to twist. He couldn't help but wish he had known you before, he could have saved you the pain of being with someone like your ex. And instead, been with someone like him. Whisked you off on a better adventure and all that. He couldn't help but wonder if you would have gone with him.

Hearing an obnoxious laugh come from across the bar, he did a double take as he spotted your ex.

"Speak of the devil." He muttered, repeating your words from earlier.

As if your ex felt Zoro's eyes burning into him, he noticed Zoro and smirked. Zoro smiled softly to himself as he tapped his fingers on the table, watching your ex saunter across the bar towards him, clearly having had more than one drink beforehand.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't Y/n's body guard."

Zoro rolled his eyes as your ex sat down across from him. "So where are they?"

"Where's who?" Zoro asked, voice low, as if daring him to say your name.

He smirked, taking the challenge. "Y/n. I'd love to see them again. We have a lot we could reminisce about. Hell, maybe we'd even strike up that old flame again."

Zoro clenched his jaw as he leaned forward, palm wrapping around his sword, "Not gonna happen."

As Zoro stood up, your ex scoffed, "What, not even over your dead body?"

Zoro quickly finished off his drink and slammed the glass down before he looked at him, dead-panned, "No. But maybe over yours."

As your ex froze for a moment, Zoro began to walk away, but his chest burned with the need for more gratification. But how would you react?

"Sure you don't want to know all of Y/n's dirty little secrets?" Your ex said with a sing song voice as he stood up as well.

Zoro stopped in his tracks before turning back to your ex and smirking softly.

The cold sea breeze blew over you as you sat on the edge of the ship, staring out at the island. A weird sense of nostalgia sat over you as you both wished to stay longer, and to leave immedietely.

Hearing footsteps, you glanced back to see Zoro boarding the ship. His eyes were already on you and your heart fluttered momentarily. You looked back out at the city, hearing Zoro approach you before climbing over the bannister and sitting beside you.

"The bar still as lively as ever?"

He nodded, "Seemed like half the island was there."

You nodded with a soft smile your eyes moving to Zoro's hand as he held out something in front of you. Your heart jolted as you saw the familiar fruit you had been looking at earlier in the day.

You took it from him and smiled.

"It seemed like you wanted to get one earlier." He said softly.

You looked over at him but he avoided your eyes, staring straight off to the city. You smiled as you began peeling the fruit, before your eyes caught on fresh scrapes on the back of Zoro's hands.

"...Did you...steal this from someone?"

"What?"

You motioned towards his hand and he scoffed, "Would that make you feel better or worse about the fruit?"

You eyed him closely before shrugging as you continued to peel the fruit. "I'm grateful either way"

He smiled at this, but took in a deep breath, knowing you would press for more.

"So, what really happened?"

He looked down at his knuckles with a smile before clearing his throat. "There was a situation, but I handled it."

"Hmm. You tend to find yourself in a lot of situations."

He chuckled, "It's kind of my thing."

You nodded, "Can't find the trail of breadcrumbs you left behind, but you can always find a fight."

"What does that even mean?"

"It means you have a terrible sense of direction"

"I do not."

You pursed your lips with a soft glare and he sighed, before shaking his head, fighting a smile.

After a moment of silence, you hand him a piece of the fruit. He took it slowly before eating it, enjoying the sweet yet fresh taste. He nodded, showing that he enjoyed it and you smiled.

"This is one of the only things I missed about this island."

"One of?"

You hummed, "I admit, I had some good memories here."

"How many of them were with him?"

You could sense the hint of venom in his tone and you repressed a smile. "None that come to mind." You said softly, noticing the way Zoro's jaw seemed to relax, yet his hands clenched.

"Zoro?"

He slowly looked over at you and almost froze at the soft look on your face.

"Yeah?"

"What happened to your hand?"

He swallowed, "I hit it on something."

"On what?"

"Your exes face."

There was a moment of still silence before you pressed your lips together, biting them, as you clearly repressed a laugh.

Zoro felt relief and amusement wash over him as you let out the soft giggle that you could no longer repress.

"Your not mad then?"

You thought for a moment before you shrugged, "I am mad but not because you hit him."

He frowned, "Then why?"

You looked over at him with a straight face. "I'm mad because you didn't hit him while I was there to see it."

Zoro stared at you for a second before both of you broke into grins. He chuckled as you giggled before letting out a sigh.

Zoro shrugged his head. "I mean...I could go pick him up off the bar floor and bring him over here if you want. "

You laughed again and Zoro grinned, relishing in the sounds as they made his heart pound proudly.

Handing him a slice of the fruit you grinned, "Tempting."

He smiled softly as he ate it, "You know it doesn't matter what you left behind here right?"

You tilted your head slightly in question. "Why not?"

He cleared his throat briefly, "Because what you have now is more important. It's better."

Your eyes locked and you could feel the tension growing.

You smiled softly as you nodded. "Yeah, it is."

He gazed at you softly, his mind running wild with a thousand things he wanted to say. His thoughts were silenced when Sanji came sauntering from the kitchen to announce that dinner was ready.

Looking back to see the others quickly heading in, you began to rise. But before you did you quickly pressed a kiss to Zoro's cheek, causing him to freeze.

"Thank you."

Your whispered voice echoed in his mind as his cheeks burned from the brief kiss. His heart was pounding as he looked behind him seeing your back disappear into the ship.

Getting a hold of himself, he rose and headed inside. Not so subtly kicking Usopp out of his seat beside you. Sharing a brief yet knowing look with you as he did.

As Zoro and Sanji loaded on a few more boxes of supplies you took one more look at the island in front of you. You were glad you were leaving, but at the same time, you wondered when you would be back next.

Your eyes caught onto a figure walking towards you and you let out a sigh, just loud enough for Zoro to glance over at you. He spotted the same thing and rose with a huff of air.

As Zoro appeared beside you, his arm pressing against yours, you felt your tense shoulders relax as your ex sneered at the two of you.

His lip was busted, and he had to matching bruises under each eye.

"New look? It suits you."

"I was thinking the same thing." Zoro mused.

Your ex looked between you and Zoro before his eyes paused on you. You shook your head softly.

"Nothing you could say is a good idea, trust me."

He hesitated a few times before giving in with a huff of air and a roll of his eyes as he turned and sauntered back down the dock.

"Who was that guy?" Usopp asked.

"No one important." You said softly.

Feeling Zoro's eyes on you, you glanced over at him. "Still regret coming here?"

You hummed softly as you looked back at the village seeing your exes head disappear into the crowd.

"No, not really. Besides, I got a good memory to leave with."

"Just one?"

You smiled softy as your eyes locked, "A couple."

He smirked as he scanned your face, "We'll make a lot more."

"We?" You mused your heart fluttering.

"Yeah. We."

Feeling someone sling their arms over your shoulders, you looked back to see Luffy's grinning face. "Yes we will!"

You paused for a second as you locked eyes with Zoro before letting out a laugh, and Zoro chuckled before shaking his head.

As Luffy began talking animatedly about the next stop, you felt Zoro's hand brush yours at your side, before he gently squeezed it.

No matter where you came from or left some heartbreak behind. Your next adventure would make it all worth it.

xx End xx

General Taglist: @criminaly-supernatural, @imaginesfire, @rexit-mo, @onuen, @witchygagirl, @alexxavicry

OPLA Taglist: @fangirlextraordinaire

-Taglist Form-

#roronoa zoro x reader #roronoa zoro/reader #one piece live action x reader #one piece live action/reader #zoro x reader #zoro/reader #opla x reader #opla/reader #opla zoro fic #opla zoro imagine #roronoa zoro imagine #one piece live action imagine #opla imagine #zoro oneshot #zoro one shot #zoro fic #roronoa zoro fic

[winterarmyy]

Promise Me | Part III

When he was sent out for war, Bucky made a promise to his lover that might just last through several lifetimes.

Navigation: Part I | Part II | Part III (end)

Words: 4.2k++

Pairing: 40s!bucky / eventually tfatws!bucky x female!reader

Warnings: angst but happy ending. The anticipation, the hesitation, yup it was real in this one. Not enough dialogue in my opinion but meh my brain was not braining. Bucky's scene before their official reunion.

P/S: Yeay, it's a wrap. Sorry for the delay guys. I'm still sick but feeling better, so that's a good news! This is the final part if the mini series, I hope you enjoy!

Read my other works here: Masterlist

Louisiana, 2024 – New beginning

War after war, from one fight into another, Bucky finally had the chance to catch a breath for himself. With the flagsmashers gone and Sam being the new Captain America just as Steve envisioned, there was a moment of peace for Bucky's tortured soul to finally rest.

He sat at the deck area of Sam's ship, watching the sun meets the ocean over the horizon, occasionally sipping on his probably fifth bottle of beer.

When he drowned himself in the memories of the events that happened these past few months, suddenly the tranquil of the sunset ahead of him doesn't interest him the least; not when a certain person had been occupying his mind.

Replaying all the twists and turns of his journey fighting those rogue group of super soldiers, one person had been but remained a mystery to him.

The Deathstalker.

It was the one puzzle piece that didn't seemed fit in the picture. As if she was plucked out entirely from a different story, a riddle that would lead him into another adventure beyond the unknown.

He still remembered the way her hands trembled against his face, tears pooling in her eyes that then fell into her mask as she muttered his name again and again.

Bucky gulped as his eyes loomed over hers, "Who are you?"

The Deathstalker seemed to be taken aback by his question. Her mutterings stopped and her eyes locked on his blue ones; there was hesitation in her gaze, or a contemplation of an answer that Bucky was dying to know.

"I-- i'm--" her words stumbled as her feet dragged backwards, putting some space between herself and Bucky.

Bucky's heart stammered in anticipation, he had a gut feeling that she wasn't just someone that he had crossed path with once or twice. He could tell they had some kind of a long history, a deeper connection; Where? When? He wasn't sure. He just knew it that there was something special between them, especially when she looked at him with such eyes.

But before she could give a definite answer, multiple groups of bounty hunters started to re-gather in their area. Zemo came in clutch with a car, picking up the injured Sam with the help of Sharon.

Bucky can hear Sharon's voice yelling out his name yet he didn't move an inch and within minutes they were surrounded by the hunters.

What was it that gave him such courage to court death just to hear her answer? Was it just purely out of curiosity or was it some kind of delusional hope that intrigued his soul?

Y/N looked around to assess their dire situation before gazing up at the taller. She knew this wasn't the best time for the truth and her hesitation only makes it worst.

But when, Bucky held out his hand towards her, "Come with me." there was a strong pull that made her wanted to just give in and take his hand.

And Bucky didn't know why he reached out for her, but it felt right. She glanced in between his hand and his pleading eyes, her own hand twitching, almost submitting to her desire but the last minute she decided to stand on her ground.

Y/N ended up turning her back and fled away, leaving her lover's hand hanging and his question unanswered.

Through the time that Bucky was deep in his memories, he may or may not have unintentionally bored his gaze towards Sarah's direction, which only triggered Sam into a protective brother that he is, "Don't flirt with my sister." He warned.

Bucky briefly scoffed and denied his accusations, "I'm not." He sipped on his bottle as he averted his gaze away.

The look on Sam's face seemed like he was trying to glare into Bucky's soul; he was sceptical with the his deflection. But the brunette only rolled his eyes in response as he spoke, "Seriously. I'm not interested." He continued before Sam couldn't interject, "Not that there's anything wrong with her.. it's just..." 

Seeing Bucky's struggles to find an excuse, Sam curiously quirked, "It's just that you already have a girl in mind?" He suggested.

There was a hint of softness in Bucky's smile when he ran his thumb across the glossy sticker of the bottle, "I had a girl." He spoke dearly as his eyes diluted into another spiral of scattered memories of his past lover, "I had the best girl."

Since the truth that was unfolded in Madripoor, Y/N had been keeping tabs on Bucky. At first, she couldn't believe it. She had to put everything about the super soldier serum on hold, to uncover more of Bucky's survival.

As it turn out, he managed to survive the fall from the train back in 1945 and had been brainwashed into a lethal weapon for Hydra for years after that.

His identity had been a secret for decades but since the fall of Hydra a few years back, the whole world knew who the Winter Soldier was. However, the people in the underground world was much fond of his villain's name, rather than the name of a war hero when it comes to addressing him.

Therefore, the lack of use of his real name had been one of the reason why Y/N was not aware of his existence. Not to mention, when he made his first public appearance when the bombing at Washington D.C. happened, she was determined to leave anything related to her past life behind and was trying to live a new life away in Singapore.

Then, a few years after that, when she came back to New York during the first year of the blip, Bucky was unfortunately, one of the people who vanished.

But, those things doesn't matter anymore now that she knew he was alive. Her Bucky. Her James. He's alive. Y/N couldn't remember the last time she was this happy, this overjoyed. That night, she couldn't sleep very well; not when her heart was working overtime all through the night.

Ever since then, she had been lurking around Bucky and Sam most of the time. Besides, her own mission of making sure the super soldier serum doesn't fall into the wrong hands and to put an end to the flagsmasher, Y/N was also there just to see Bucky.

She couldn't help it.

Imagine living a somewhat immortal life without a piece of your heart for decades. Withering to the fact that you can never see your lover, not in life nor in death; Or spending days and nights, missing and longing for his soul to be one with yours again.

And then suddenly discovering he was still alive.

Of course, she would use any excuse to see him every single day without fail. But at the same time, she didn't want to make things more complicated than it already was. With the crisis of the vigilante super soldiers, she didn't think it would be wise to reveal herself to Bucky anytime soon.

So, she stayed in the shadows instead, refuse to make herself known to Bucky. Whether as the Deathstalker or as Y/N.

Except for that one time that she decided to help him.

Bucky looked around the parking lot, trying to make a decision on which vehicle would be easiest for him to hijack. That was when he heard her signature robotic voice, "Hey, sarge!" She yelled.

He followed her voice upwards to see her feet dangling in the air, as she sat on the edge of the metal of the fire escape stairs. He hadn't seen her since their first encounter at Madripoor, "You..." Bucky whispered quietly.

Now that he thought about it, did she just call him by his title?

She titled her head to the side, "Do you require any assistance, sargent?" She asked nonchalantly as if they have been buddies for years.

Yup, she did used his title. 

Bucky's signature frown only deepened when she insinuated a jest-like tone. He wasn't sure whether she was trying to appear friendly in order to help him or slow him down. So be safe, his defence went up when he straighten his back into a stance.

When Y/N saw how his guard changed, she decided to get straight to the point, "I didn't come all the way here to fight with you, James" she leaned as if it'll close the distance between them.

She wondered if her words trigger a memory in him; after all, she did use the similar sentence in 1943 when Steve rescued him from Hydra's captivity. But the lack of response from Bucky told her otherwise. Perhaps, it was too long of past for him to remember, or it wasn't significant enough for him.

Bucky's brows quirked when she yelled, "Heads up." and his hand rose up to catch whatever it was she threw down at him.

Y/N briefly titled her head forward as she spoke, "Far left. The black bike." In which Bucky briefly followed her directions, to indeed see a black bike parked at the spot.

Bucky wordlessly turned his head back and gaze up at her with a questioning look on his face. He couldn't see her behind that mask she was wearing but if he could, he would've see her smiling, "You need it more than I do."

It has been a few months since that night. And she was still lurking somewhere in the dark. Everywhere he goes, she will be right around the corner; watching, observing.

Even now, when she found herself standing on one of the boardwalk in Louisiana, near where Sam's boat resides. There was no denying that she was sort of being a creep, basically stalking Bucky from where she was standing.

From this distance, she could see that Bucky was having the time of his life entertaining the kids with his left arm; or maybe the kids were, when they compete each other on how long they can last hanging from the vibranium metal.

Y/N just had to smile seeing him happy like this. Her heart bloomed with warmth that she never thought she would ever had the chance feel again. Bucky looked as if he was finally at peace, and that made her doubt if it was a good idea to insert herself in his life now.

She believed that he derserve a happy ending. After all he had gone through all those years, he should be able to have the luxury of having a completely new life, a new beginning. Away from the past that are just filled with painful memories and dreadful suffering. To find love again and live a long happy life where she is nothing but a distant memory.

He deserve that.

But is that what she truly wanted?

Brooklyn, 2024 – Truth Untold

"That'll be $25, sir." The red-haired smiled as she handed Bucky his usual order. He paid accordingly as he took it off her hands and walked out of the cozy little shop at the corner of the busy city street.

His gloved hand gripped onto the stem of the bouquet, as his dark and tall silhouette slithered through the crowd. Everybody seemed to be entranced with whatever it was on the screen of their phones, while Bucky felt like he was out of place and time with arrangement of primroses in his hands.

The hustle bustle of the city slowly transitioned into a much calmer and quieter scenary. He walked passed the rusty, almost deteriorating entrance gate, nodding to the old ground keeper as he passed by. He knew he could get lost if he doesn't keep his focus, yet his eyes remained on the petals of the flowers, gambling his trust in his feet to bring him to the only spot they recognized.

"Hey, doll." Bucky greeted, gripping on the stem a little tighter as he read the name of his lover on the worn-looking headstone. Months of cleaning and tending her grave, it still looked grey and sombre compared to when he first visited; but that tends to happen to a grave is been left out since the 70's.

He lowered into a crouching position and placed the flowers in front of the headstone, "I'm sorry I've been missing some weeks on ya. Duty calls." Bucky knew that wasn't a good excuse to miss their dates but the flagsmashers events had caused him to skip this little Tuesday routine of his.

As depressing it might sound, he missed coming here.

Besides going to therapy, this has been the only place where Bucky talks the most about his feelings. Though it might be completely a one-sided conversation, but he could spend hours talking to her. Telling her anything and everything that's been going on in that pretty head of his. No matter how scrambled and messy it was up there.

Bucky traced his fingers to the words engraved in the stone; it read 'Beloved daughter, sister, aunt, and friend.' Each title were delightful as they were but then again, she could've been 'a lovely wife' and 'a great mother', but she didn't.

"Why didn't you?" Bucky whispered quietly. "I just know that men must've been thrilled chasing after you, begging on their knees for your hand." He chuckled as he remembered all those times when his friends would ogle over her whenever he brought her out for a dance, "And you'd be a wonderful mother too." Knowing her gentle nature and how the kids in the hospital adored her, he just knew she would be.

His heart pierced painfully to think that she might have grown old alone, and died without family of her own. "You should've live a happy life, y/n. Marry a good man, build a family." Tears that pooled started to drip from the corner of his eyes, each tore an aching sob from his throat, "And I wished I could've be there with you."

It wasn't rare for Bucky to cry during his visits to Y/N's grave. He is the most vulnerable when he's with her; even in death, being around her has been comforting for his soul.

Y/N could clearly hear the sound of his sniffles when she stood closer to him like this. She spend day after day, gathering the courage and figuring out what to say if she ever confronted Bucky.

But in the end, the fact that Bucky was just within her reach, living, breathing; it broke whatever plan she had in her mind.

It still felt like a dream. A lucid one.

Bucky knew that was someone standing behind him; but he felt no sorts of vendetta from the person and if they mean him any harm, they would've done it sooner. He roughly stroke his palm across his face in effort to hide the tears streaks away and took a deep breath as he stood on his feet.

Whoever he had in mind, well it was definitely not that person who was standing behind him right now. It totally caught him off guard when he saw the Deathstalker standing in front of him instead of any other familiar faces.

Though her identity was still hidden, but instead of her combat attire, she was in a much comfortable clothes. Casual sneakers, basic jeans, an oversize sweater, its hood pulled over her head and a soft cloth mask covering her lower face.

Despite the change of style, her eyes were still the same. Big, brown and Bucky could only describe them to be filled with curiosity and concern as they looked up at him. He could feel the burn from the drag of her gaze on each part of his features; the softness of his lips, the red of his nose and especially the puffiness of his eyes.

He broke the silence when he started the conversation, "I assume that you're not going to fight me." He said, "At least you don't look like you're equipped for it..." Bucky pointed out the obvious.

Y/N took a few seconds of silent blinking before she responded with a shook of her head.

The lack of verbal response somehow caused him to feel slightly awkward. Rubbing the back on his neck, Bucky titled his head to the side, "So... you're here for your bike?" He asked. He still hold on to the bike that she lend to him, though it was back at his place, if that's what she wanted.

Her eyes curved into a pair of cresent moons, a side effect of a smile that Bucky couldn't see. She shook her head again to deny his speculation.

Bucky pointed out at the graveyard around them when he asked, "Uhh...are you here for a visit too?" He doubt it but it was worth to try.

Y/N looked over his shoulder, reading the familiar name engraved on the headstone behind him, before locking her eyes back to his. She shook her head yet again.

Bucky was starting to get why Sam felt annoyed with his staring problem now that he had first hand experience. Though she wasn't glaring at him like he would at Sam, but still, she was staring at him most of the time. And the lack of words made it more noticeable. "You don't talk much do you?" He asked, there was a hint of passive-aggressive in his tone.

And Y/N recognized that tone anywhere. She was surprised that that part of him hasn't change since the 40's. She remembered how Bucky would use this tone whenever he was irritated but he didn't want to be a jerk and yell out his frustration.

The fact that she still managed to notice this little quirks of his after all these years made her chuckle amusingly. There wasn't a voice changer now, it was just her voice; raw and unfiltered. And even if it was muffled behind the cloth of her mask, her laugh sounded awfully familiar to Bucky.

It sounded pretty and soft, that it tickled something in deep within his chest but not enough to trigger any memory from his subconcious, "Then, what are you doing here?" He asked curiously.

It took a moment of blinking silence before Y/N grabbed onto the fabric of her hood; she pulled it back and it revealed her slightly wavy hair dipped in raven. Bucky watched intently as her index finger slipped into the tiny slot at the side of her nose, hooking it on the fabric of her mask.

And those mere seconds of hesitation triggered the tears to form in her eyes. Her heart beating fast, tiredlessly pumping blood through the veins of her body yet her fingers still runs cold with fear.

Between the thumping sound of her own heartbeat, she might have second guessed her own decision of revealing her identity. Thinking that maybe it was best to leave the truth untold. Because what if Bucky refused to believe her?

It would truly destroy her; this time, beyond repair.

Y/N briefly closed her eyes as she breathed in, she then pulled the mask down to reveal her face. The crack in her voice betrayed the smile that curved on her trembling lips, "I'm here for you." She finally spoke.

The upward movement of muscle around her cheeks pushed her tears out, letting it flow from the corner of her eyes. She didn't dare to look at him in the face for too long, so her eyes casted downwards to where her feet dug the ground.

Decades passed and it might have been several lifetimes for Y/N since the 40's but it only felt like it was yesterday for Bucky. Especially when he had lived many years of his life to either be awake for the Winter Soldier or asleep in the freezing chambers.

All of which were just scattered of loose memories to him now. It haunted him, yes. But sometimes he couldn't tell if it was just a series of nightmares or actual reality. Thus, he tends to feel as if he had lost his sense of time. That is why he always felt out of place in the modern society.

Inside, he felt like he was still the man he was in the 40's; just thrusted forward in time. And since he started to tap into the memories of himself in those olden times, it made him felt like it hasn't been that long for Bucky since he last saw her.

Yes, he felt like it was just short distance of time but his soul certainly didn't feel the same. It had been deprived of its other half for far too long.

All the images of their time together flashed rapidly through his mind; every touch, every kiss, every laughter and even every tears they ever shared, all came rushing in like untamed waves crashing to the shore.

The beautiful strings of chaos in his head hadn't calm the slightest, in fact it pushed Bucky to move forward; to catch her silhouette before it could disappear on him like the way it always does in his dreams.

Y/N's vision was blocked when Bucky smushed her face to his chest, trapping her in an unbreakable embrace as he whispered her name, "y/n?"

Was he talking to her or was he talking to himself? Because he didn't stop muttering her name as if it was some sort of a ritual chanting.

Bucky's hand briefly roamed her body from the back of her head, barely passing her shoulders, across the spine and then folded around her waist, drawing her in; impossibly closer.

That was when she felt his body shake; much like herself, Bucky was crying for the lost time that they will never make back, for the pieces of hearts broken in those decades that they lived without one another.

Bucky had witness some unbelievable things throughout his long life on this earth; lots of mind-boggling creation of man-made technology, actual magic and sorcerers, aliens and literal Gods.

He should know that nothing is impossible. Yet, holding Y/N in his arms felt unbelievably surreal to him.

Before she managed to draw in the air, her body felt the need to melt into his form. She can feel his firm grasp around her frame, and feel how rapid his heart beating on her cheek.

At that moment, she couldn't help but to find resemblance of him to his past habits; he way he holds her, how his fingers would occasionally dance across her body, or how his nose would nudge into her hair.

Even his scent remained the same. At least the essence of it were unchanged.

Being in his arms reminded her of the whispers of promises Bucky made to her, "You promised to come home." Y/N tried to steady her breath, "You promised to come back to me."

Bucky pulled her head back, cradling her face in the contrast of his hands; one was once warm and another that felt familiar. He desperately wiped her tears away with his thumbs, almost too rough of a caress but surprisingly it brought more relief than pain to her.

Even in the sorrow and grief, anger managed to slipped through when she growled, "You dickhead, you left me behind." Though it was weak, her punches still hits the target perfectly.

Repeatedly slamming her tiny fists on his sturdy chest. The chest that were caged with heavy remorse and regret. And there wasn't really anything he could say to sooth the pain that she felt when he died.

Bucky knew that, but he had to say something, anything, "I-doll, I'm so sorry..." He was drowning her with his eyes, flooding her heart with his tears as his hand ran through her hair. Soft as he remembered it to be; at least compared from the lucid dreams she was starring in.

"Shhh!" Y/N hushed him quickly, "Just please..." her breath shuddered when she inhaled.

She didn't spend most of her lifetimes to hear an apology, not from him. If anything, he should swear on his life to never leave again, to stay this time around and always. She tugged him closer, lips hovering over each other's, just one nudge away to finally get the sweet taste of it, "...never again."

And when he kissed her, it tastes of her tears. But it was beyond fulfilling. Like their lost soul were finally being able to touch again. The gentle need, the tender crave of his kiss was enough to forge her trust back into its former glory.

And all of the sudden Bucky felt like he was drowning again; like he was desperate to breathe and she was the air. He kissed her again, and again, and again. As if he needed the taste of her lips to survive the waves; like she was his lighthouse in dark.

When they finally set apart, she wanted to speak but all she can do was croak, "Don't leave me, not again." Bucky's lips curved into a loving smile and he nods once. He folded her frame in his arms, tightly and closely; his whisper was ever-so-soft when he promised, "Never."

End.

Read my other works here: Masterlist

A/N: Did you notice two dialogue throwback from when Bucky was rescued in 1943? "I didnt come all the way here to fight with you, James" and "I'm here for you" Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this one. Thanks for reading and maybe tell you what you think?

#winterarmyyfics #promise me au #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #40s!bucky #tfatws!bucky #winter soldier!bucky