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arkaiveofurown · 2 months ago

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kiss me, he’s watching

Pairings: Law x Reader & Ace x Reader

You feel like you’re being watched, so you ask him for help. After all, it’s just a simple kiss, right?

Word Count: ~2,000 words

tag: fluff, being stalked reader

my masterlist here ♡

——

Law

It started back in that small town—a feeling that couldn’t be ignored. You didn’t want to admit it, but you knew. Someone was following you.

Everywhere you went, you could sense eyes on you. The feeling crawled under your skin, and no matter how hard you tried to shake it, it lingered.

When you saw him again, you froze. Your ex. The one who always used to say,

You’ll never get over me. You’ll always come back to me.

Do you think someone can love you like I do? No one.

Leave all you want, but I know you’ll crawl back to me.

You couldn’t believe he was here. How had he found you? You tried to push it down, but the thought gnawed at you like a dull ache. Should you tell the crew? You weren’t sure. How could you explain this? You hadn’t even fully processed it yourself.

The next few days were tense, your every move shadowed by the unease that settled in your chest.

You walked into the Polar Tang’s infirmary, needing a moment to breathe. Law was sitting at the desk, flipping through medical files, when he noticed you. His gaze was sharp, scanning you in a way that felt both familiar and unsettling.

“You need something?” he asked, his voice calm, but with a trace of concern.

You hesitated, the weight of everything still on your mind. “Just… needed a quiet place.”

Law studied you for a moment, his eyes narrowing just a little. “You don’t lie well,” he noted, setting the file down.

You wanted to brush it off, but his gaze was too intense. “I’ll be fine. Just tired, I guess.”

Law leaned back, folding his arms. His expression didn’t shift, but his tone softened. “That’s not what it looks like.”

“I’m fine,” you repeated, forcing a smile. “Really, Law. I just need some space.”

He didn’t answer immediately, but the way he looked at you—intense, piercing—made you feel like he wasn’t buying it. Still, he didn’t push. “If you need anything, don’t hesitate,” he said quietly.

You nodded, your heart beating a little faster, and quickly left the room. But even as you stepped away, you could feel his eyes on your back, sharp and unrelenting. He knew something was off, but he hadn’t pried. Yet.

——

The feeling came first—a prickle along your spine.

He was here.

Somewhere along the outer corridor of the Polar Tang, hidden just out of sight. You didn’t see your ex, but you didn’t need to. You felt it. Just like in the town. The presence clinging to the air like damp fog. Watching. Waiting.

And every time, the same fear clawed at your throat—that one day, he wouldn’t just watch. He’d step forward. Say your name. Reach for you. Take you back.

Because in his mind, you were still his.

You tried to push it away, but the fear lingered. You had to talk to someone.

You found Law up on the observation deck, overlooking the sea. He was alone, arms crossed, the wind ruffling his coat as he stared out at the waves—calm and steady, like always.

“You alright?” he asked, voice steady, but his eyes sharp.

You hesitated before answering, your voice barely above a whisper. “I… I don’t know how to explain it, but someone’s watching me. He followed me. From that town… onto the ship. I don’t know how, but I can feel him. My ex. He’s here.”

Law’s gaze hardened, the calm expression replaced by something more intense. “Your ex? Here?”

You nodded. “I don’t know how he found me, but I can feel him. Everywhere I go, it’s like he’s watching.”

He stood up abruptly, his posture tense, a mix of anger and protectiveness radiating from him. “Where is he?” His voice was firm, and there was no hesitation in his steps.

Your hand shot out to grab his arm, stopping him mid-step. “No. I don’t want you going after him.”

Law turned to you, his brow furrowing in confusion. “What? You think I’ll let him—”

“I think,” you said quickly, stepping just a little closer, “you can help in another way.”

Law gave you a cautious look. “How?”

You lowered your voice. “He’s watching. Right now. So… kiss me.”

He froze. “What?”

“If he thinks I’m with someone—if he sees you—maybe he’ll back off. Just pretend.”

Law stared at you for a beat, then muttered, “…Only because I’m your captain.”

He leaned in, quick and stiff. His lips brushed yours for half a second—barely a kiss at all—before he stepped back like he touched fire. His ears were pink, hands trembling, eyes everywhere but on you.

��Duty,” he coughed, awkward. “Crew protection.”

“That was very professional of you, Captain.” You stared at him, unimpressed. “But that was it?”

He frowned. “What?”

You whispered, “That wasn’t convincing. At all. No one would believe we’re a couple with a kiss like that.”

Law blinked. “It was fine.”

You raised a brow. “You basically tapped me with your mouth.”

He looked away fast, adjusting his hat. “It’s not a performance.”

“It kinda is,” you whispered, stepping closer again. “He’s still watching, you know.”

Law glanced sideways, clearly flustered. You could see the tips of his fingers twitch before he shoved them in his pockets.

“…Fine,” he muttered. “But only to make it believable.”

You smiled. “You’re very dedicated to your duties, Captain.”

He groaned under his breath, then kissed you again—this time deeper, longer, moving his lips against yours. His hand steadied at your back, the warmth of it lingering longer than the kiss.

When he pulled away, he still wouldn’t meet your eyes. “Satisfied?”

You grinned. “Getting there.”

He exhaled hard, muttering, “I hate this mission.”

And from the shadows behind the corridor’s curve, you felt that presence waver—like a thread pulled too tight. Then it was gone. For now.

And even if he came back, you knew your captain would do his duties to protect you.

——

Ace

You sipped your drink, trying to enjoy the lively atmosphere of the bar, but your gaze kept darting to the man standing in the corner. He wasn’t subtle, watching you with a hungry stare, his eyes never leaving you.

You glanced around the table, trying to act casual, but the unease was creeping up your spine. Ace caught your eye from across the room.

“Everything alright?” he asked, leaning in, his voice low enough only you could hear.

You nodded quickly, trying to smile. “Yeah, just a little… off.”

Ace raised an eyebrow but didn’t press, his gaze scanning the room, but when he didn’t see anything unusual, he shrugged it off. “Alright, well, let me know if you need anything.”

You nodded, but the discomfort lingered.

——

It wasn’t a one-time thing. The man showed up again. Lurking, always just out of sight.

One afternoon, you spotted him in the hallway again. You couldn’t keep ignoring it.

You found Ace in the galley, casually sipping from a mug. He raised an eyebrow when he saw your tense expression.

You leaned in close, your hand slipping around his waist as you whispered, “Ace, someone’s been following me. He first saw me at the bar—looked at me like he was starving—and he’s been trailing me ever since.”

He froze for a second, then turned to you, brows furrowing. “What? Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

You glanced around, lowering your voice. “I thought I was imagining it at first. But… I just saw him again.”

Ace set his mug down, his playful grin fading. “Where is he now?”

You sighed. “I just saw him in the hallway.”

His jaw tightening. “He wants you, huh? That bastard.”

“I don’t want him,” you muttered. “He creeps me out. I’m scared.”

Ace stepped in closer, voice dropping, eyes sharp but teasing. “Wanna make him jealous?”

Your heart skipped a beat, but you nodded quickly. “Please. Just kiss me, Ace. He’s watching.”

Ace smirked, leaning in, his voice low and playful. “You want me to kiss you just like that?”

You nodded, biting your lip nervously.

Before you could protest, Ace’s lips were on yours—soft at first, then firmer as he tugged you closer, heat curling between you. When he pulled back, his grin was smug. “That oughta mess with his head.”

You blinked, breathless. “Think it worked?”

Ace winked. “Probably not. But I’m sure he’s regretting not moving faster.”

You smiled, feeling the tension melt away. “Thanks, Ace.”

“Anytime. Just don’t let me catch him looking at you again.” He smirked and wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer. “But… I did just help you out. I think I deserve some payment in return.”

You raised an eyebrow, confused. “Payment?”

Ace’s smirk turned mischievous. “Yeah. A second kiss for good measure.”

Before you could answer, he leaned in and kissed you again—warmer this time, slower. When he pulled back, he rested his forehead lightly against yours. “That should do for now.”

You laughed, your heart fluttering. “You’re impossible.”

Ace winked. “Maybe. But I think you like it. And that should keep him in his place.”

The hallway was quiet now. No more shadows at the edge of your vision. Maybe the stalker finally got the message—or maybe it was just easier to breathe with Ace so close.

Either way, you weren’t afraid anymore. Not with him there.

——

a/n: law’s such a flustered shy guy while ace is a smug little flirt eitherway i want them both 😮‍💨

#one piece x y/n #one piece x reader #trafalgaw law x reader #law x reader #law x y/n #portgas ace x reader #trafalgar law x y/n #ace x y/n #ace x reader #one piece fluff #law x you #trafalgar law fluff #portgas ace x y/n #portgas ace fluff #portgas ace x you #one piece fanfic

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inseobts · 13 days ago

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Smoke and Fire

sabo x fem!reader (+ sanji x fem!reader)

sabo keeps avoiding his feelings, but what happens when he sees you with another man?

words count: 3.2k

tags: jealous sabo, during time-skip, angst with fluff, sanji flirting, hidden feelings, emotional tension

masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi

The mission is simple.

Drop off a message to an allied contact. Rest. Leave.

You've never been there so you don’t expect the island to be... this.

“What the hell…” you mumble, blinking at the huge heart-shaped flowers and men in dresses sprinting around with makeup kits and high heels.

Sabo’s eyes narrow behind his goggles “This is Momoiro Island. Ivankov’s old base.”

“Oh,” you say “Explains the fashion.”

A pink-haired man runs up to you “Revolutionaries?” he asks cheerfully.

You and Sabo nod.

“You just missed the princess!”

“...Princess?” you repeat.

“Our guest! Handsome, blond, always cooking, always crying!”

Sabo raises an eyebrow “We weren’t told anyone else was here.”

The man laughs “Oh, he’s not with the army! He crash-landed here months ago. Poor thing’s heartbroken, but my, does he know how to use a frying pan~!”

You glance at Sabo “Should we meet him?”

“We’ll rest first” he says, almost too quickly.

The rooms they give you are small but cozy. Yours smells like lavender. You toss your bag onto the bed, then lean on the windowsill. Outside, Sabo talks with one of the locals.

You watch him.

Strong. Calm. Always a little distant.

You’ve been traveling with him for months, but he never lets you get too close. You wish he would.

He glances up and catches you looking.

You wave.

He waves back, but turns away fast.

The next morning, someone knocks on your door.

You open it, and there’s a man with blond hair, a thin cigarette, and the longest eyelashes you’ve ever seen.

“Pardon me, mademoiselle,” he says, voice like silk “I heard there was a beautiful stranger staying in this wing. I had to see for myself.”

You blink “Uh… Your nose is...”

“My name is Sanji,” he adds with a little bow “Can I interest you in breakfast?”

You smile, unsure “Do I know you?”

“Not yet,” he says, grinning “But I’m hoping that will change.”

Before you can answer, a firm voice cuts in “She already ate.”

You turn.

Sabo is standing in the hallway, arms crossed, gaze cold.

Sanji raises an eyebrow “Oh? And who might you be?”

Sabo walks up slowly “Her partner.”

Sanji grins wider “Lucky man.”

Sabo doesn’t smile.

You cough “Um. Sanji, right? You’re the guest here?”

“At your service, angel.”

Sabo steps slightly between you and Sanji “She’s busy.”

“I was just—”

“I said she’s busy.”

Sanji looks from you to Sabo, then smiles politely “Understood. Another time, perhaps.”

He bows again and walks away, hands in his pockets.

You stare at Sabo “That was… intense.”

He shrugs.

“You okay?”

He doesn’t answer.

“Sabo.”

“I don’t like the way he looked at you.”

Your heart skips “Why?”

His voice is quiet “Because he saw you before I was ready.”

You blink “…What do you mean, before you were ready?”

Sabo looks away.

The silence is awkward. Heavy. You're not used to this from him. Usually he’s composed. Sharp. In control. But right now, he looks... cornered.

“Sabo?”

He exhales slowly, then changes the subject, fast.

“The ship’s got a leak.”

You frown “What?”

“Engine room. Nothing major, but we’ll have to stay here a few more days while I fix it.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“I already talked to the dock crew. They’ll give me parts.”

“Sabo.”

He ignores you “Until then, try not to wander too far, alright?”

You cross your arms “Why are you avoiding the question?”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

“No, I’m—” he cuts himself off, jaw clenched “It’s nothing.”

You step closer “Sabo.”

He looks down at you, face unreadable “Let it go.”

Your chest tightens “Why can’t you just talk to me? You're always like this.”

He hesitates.

Then, quietly, he says, “Because I don’t want to say something I can’t take back.”

And then he turns and walks away.

You spend the next hour pacing in your room.

What was that supposed to mean?

Since when does Sabo... who always knows the right words, the right move... get flustered like that? Why would he not be “ready” for someone to see you? What was he going to say?

And why does your heart keep racing when you replay the way he stood in front of you?

Like he was protecting something that already belonged to him.

You finally step out, needing fresh air, only to nearly bump right into someone.

“Oh! My goddess!” Sanji clasps his hands like he’s praying “Fate has brought us together again!”

You stare “Are you always like this?”

“Only when inspiration strikes” he says, and offers you a rose that definitely wasn’t in his hands two seconds ago “Would you allow me the honor of showing you the garden?”

You hesitate.

Then you glance down the hall... no Sabo.

“…Sure.”

Maybe some flowers will clear your head.

Meanwhile, from the top of the hill behind the garden, Sabo stands with arms crossed, staring down.

He watches Sanji lead you through the path of tulips, hand occasionally brushing yours, smile wide.

You’re laughing.

Not like you do with Sabo. No teasing. No guarded glances.

You’re actually relaxed. Glowing.

He should feel happy you're enjoying yourself. Instead, he feels like someone lit a fire in his chest... and it burns like hell.

The garden is beautiful, even more with the sunset light turning the sky soft orange. You’re laughing at something Sanji says... he’s dramatic, but kind, and you admit: he’s easy to talk to. He treats you like you’re the center of the world.

You’re not used to that.

He suddenly turns serious “Would you let me cook for you tonight?”

You blink “What?”

“Dinner. Just us. I’ll prepare something special. A private meal, from my heart to your plate.”

You hesitate “Sanji, I—I don’t want to lead you on…”

He smiles gently “You’re not. I know your heart isn’t mine. But I’d still like to make you feel… seen. You're not staying here much more, so let me help you.”

Your lips part slightly.

It’s not that you’re not thinking about Sabo. You are, constantly. But Sabo never says how he feels. He pulls away. He hides behind orders, missions, excuses. Maybe dinner will distract you. Maybe it’ll help clear your head.

“…Okay,” you say softly “Dinner sounds nice.”

Later, the main dining hall is loud with laughter and clinking glasses. Revolutionaries from every part of the island are eating together, the smell of food heavy in the air.

Sabo walks in, scanning the room.

You’re not here.

He sits next to Ivankov “Hey. Have you seen—”

Ivankov grins “Oh, sweet cheeks? She’s having a private dinner with that Sanji fellow.”

Sabo’s expression freezes “What?”

“You didn’t know?” Iva leans closer, voice teasing “He invited her earlier. Said it was just the two of them. Very romantic~”

Sabo’s grip tightens on his glass.

Someone across the table adds, “I passed her on the way, she looked amazing. Like, wow. Dressed up and everything.”

Another person laughs “Didn’t know she had clothes like that. She cleaned up good.”

Sabo doesn’t hear the rest.

His mind is stuck on just the two of them.

And she dressed up.

You never dress up for him.

Then again... he never gives you a reason to.

He stands up suddenly.

Ivankov blinks “Not staying?”

“I lost my appetite.”

He walks out, fast.

No plan. No words. Just a quiet storm building in his chest.

The table is set under the stars.

Lanterns float in the trees, casting warm yellow light. There’s a small bottle of wine, fresh flowers, and two plates that smell so good your stomach actually growls.

Sanji pulls out a chair for you like a perfect gentleman “For you, mademoiselle.”

You sit, smoothing your dress, a simple thing you found buried in your travel bag. You didn’t even remember packing it. But after looking in the mirror... you needed to feel like someone else tonight. Someone not tired. Not confused. Not constantly waiting for a certain blonde revolutionary to stop avoiding her.

Sanji pours you a glass “To good company.”

You raise your glass “To good food.”

You both sip, and for a while, you eat in silence. The pasta is soft and rich with cream. The vegetables are grilled perfectly. You try to focus on the flavors. On the warmth. On Sanji’s voice when he tells you stories about the wild people on this island.

But Sabo keeps creeping into your thoughts.

His silence.

His half-finished sentences.

His sharp looks at Sanji.

You chew slower.

You’re not sure when it happens, but your fork stops halfway to your mouth.

Sanji notices “Something wrong?”

You put the fork down “No. I mean... yes. I don’t know.”

He tilts his head, serious now.

You sigh “This was supposed to be a distraction.”

He doesn’t answer, just waits.

“I thought dressing up and eating with someone charming would help me stop thinking about him.”

Sanji’s voice is soft “Sabo?”

You nod slowly.

“I don’t get him,” you admit “One minute he looks at me like I’m the most important thing in the world. The next, he acts like I’m just another soldier.”

“Sounds like a man afraid of his own feelings” Sanji says gently.

“I’ve tried to be patient. I get that he’s busy. That we’re at war. But I’m always the one reaching out. Always waiting. Always guessing.”

Your voice gets quieter “And I’m tired of feeling like I care more than he does.”

Sanji leans forward “You want him to fight for you.”

You swallow “I just want to matter. Out loud. Not in silence. Not in hints. Not in things he doesn’t say.”

For a moment, there’s only the sound of wind in the trees.

Then Sanji says, “You do matter. Anyone with eyes can see that.”

Your throat tightens “Thanks.”

He smiles gently “You’re incredible. And if he doesn’t tell you that soon…”

He pauses “…he’s going to lose something he won’t be able to replace.”

You look at your wine glass, eyes stinging.

You don’t know what to say.

So Sanji just refills your glass, and starts talking about spices and the sea, until your heart feels a little lighter.

Later on - Sanji’s stories only get more ridiculous as the night goes on.

“—so then I’m running through the kitchen, completely on fire, and Zeff is just watching me like, ‘This idiot deserves it’.”

You burst out laughing, nearly choking on your wine “You’re kidding!”

“Swear on my spices. I smelled like smoked fish for days.”

You lean on the table, grinning hard “You were such a mess.”

He places a hand dramatically over his heart “A charming, well-dressed mess, thank you very much.”

You’re still laughing when a soft sound catches your ear, footsteps.

You glance over your shoulder.

Sabo stands a few feet away, just… staring.

His expression is unreadable, but his eyes are locked on you. Not Sanji. You.

You straighten in your chair “Sabo...”

He doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t move.

Sanji follows your gaze and stands up smoothly “Hey,” he says casually “Join us?”

“No” Sabo says flatly.

You blink “Sabo?”

He steps forward now, voice low, tight “You’re really having fun, huh?”

The tone makes your chest tighten “I—yeah. Sanji was—he made dinner. I just—”

“You dressed up.”

That hits harder than it should.

“Why does that matter?” you ask quietly.

He doesn’t answer right away. Just stares at you like he’s trying to find the words he’s been choking on for weeks.

Sanji clears his throat “Maybe I should—”

“Stay,” Sabo cuts in “You’ve already seen enough.”

Sanji raises an eyebrow but doesn’t argue. He leans back against the wall, arms crossed, watching.

Sabo looks at you again “I thought I had time.”

Your heart beats faster “Time for what?”

“To tell you how I feel.”

Silence falls between you.

You stand slowly “Then why didn’t you?”

“Because I’m not like him,” he says, jerking his chin at Sanji “I don’t know how to be soft. Or charming. Or say the right things. But watching you out here, laughing with someone else like that—”

His voice breaks a little.

“I hated it.”

You don’t speak.

“I hated that I wasn’t the one making you smile like that.”

Now you do.

“Then why did you keep pushing me away?”

Sabo steps closer “Because if I let myself fall, I knew I wouldn’t be able to stop.”

He’s right in front of you now.

And you can feel the heat coming off him, more than fire.

“I don’t want to keep pretending I don’t feel anything,” he says, voice low, rough, vulnerable “Because I do. I always have.”

Your breath catches.

He reaches for your hand, finally “I’m sorry it took someone else for me to admit it.”

Behind you, Sanji sighs quiet, like a gentleman who knows when the spotlight isn’t his.

He turns to leave “She deserved to hear it. Finally.”

And he disappears into the night.

Tears hit your eyes before you can stop them.

“You’re an idiot” you whisper.

Sabo flinches, but doesn’t move.

You step forward and punch his arm. Not hard, but enough to make a sound.

“You idiot!”

Another punch. He doesn’t stop you.

“You absolute, emotionally-stunted dumbass! I thought I was crazy!”

Punch. Punch.

“I thought I was making it all up in my head! Every time you looked at me like I mattered, every time you said something sweet and then pulled away, I thought I was imagining it!”

Sabo looks like he’s been stabbed, but he lets you keep going.

You hit his chest with both hands now, frustrated tears running down your cheeks.

“I waited so long! I kept hoping, and hoping, and you never said anything! You just acted like nothing was happening while I... while I was falling in love with you, you idiot!”

Your voice cracks on that last word.

And then you just drop dramatically, right onto your knees, wiping your eyes with both hands, sniffling like a mess. “Ughhh I think I drank too much” you wail into your palms.

Sabo blinks, stunned.

Then he rushes over “Hey—hey, come here—”

You swat at him half-heartedly “Don’t touch me! No—wait—okay yes, touch me, help me up, I’m dizzy.”

He gently pulls you to your feet. You stumble into his chest and grab the front of his shirt like a lifeline.

“You made me crazy,” you sniff “I literally dressed up for another man just to forget you.”

“I noticed.”

“You’re so STUPID.”

“I know.”

“And handsome.”

He makes a choked laugh “That too.”

He steadies you with one arm around your waist, the other carefully holding your wrist “Can you walk?”

“No. I’m too emotional.” You throw your head back dramatically.

He actually laughs this time, soft and helpless “Okay, drama queen. Let’s get you back.”

He walks you slowly through the halls, his pace patient, arm never leaving you.

Your head leans against his shoulder. You speak again, softer now.

“I really do love you, you know.”

His steps falter, just a second.

“I tried not to. I tried to be cool. Like, maybe I could just move on or pretend I didn’t feel it. But... it was always you.”

Sabo swallows “I don’t deserve that.”

You stop walking and look up at him, red eyes shining “You don’t get to decide that.”

He looks at you like he’s seeing the sun for the first time.

Then he says quietly, “Okay.”

And keeps holding you, like he’s never letting go.

The walk to your room is slow and quiet.

Your steps are wobbly. Your thoughts are loud.

Sabo keeps holding you like you’re something fragile. Like you might shatter again.

He opens the door to your room and helps you sit on the bed, gently pulling off your shoes like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Like he’s done it a hundred times in his head.

You stare at him.

“I’m not drunk” you say suddenly, even though that’s a lie and both of you know it.

“You said you drank too much like ten minutes ago” he says with a small laugh.

You smile lazily “Liar.”

He leans down to pull the blanket over you.

And that’s when you move, reaching up with both arms, eyes heavy, lips parting...

“Wait!” he says quickly, hand flying up to block your face “Hold it.”

You freeze, lips a breath away from his fingers.

You blink at him.

“Are you serious right now?” you whisper.

Sabo grins, but there’s a flush in his cheeks.

He gently presses his hand to your forehead like he’s checking your temperature “Let’s keep that for when you’re not tipsy.”

You pout. Full lips, big eyes, dramatic sigh “That’s mean.”

“You’ll thank me tomorrow.”

“I doubt it.”

“You’re pouting like a child.”

You blink slowly. Then nod.

“…Okay,” you mumble, smiling anyway, eyes still wet but shining “But you better not forget.”

He stands there for a second, just watching you melt into the blanket.

“I won’t” he says quietly.

You hum, eyes fluttering closed “Promise?”

“I promise.”

He turns to leave.

“Wait.”

He pauses at the door.

“…Will you stay? Just for a minute?”

He nods without a word and sits in the chair beside your bed.

You fall asleep with his hand resting gently over yours, and for the first time in what feels like forever, everything feels okay.

You wake up slowly.

Your mouth’s dry. Your head’s a little heavy. But you remember everything.

The dinner.

The tears.

Sabo’s voice telling you the things you waited so long to hear.

You sit up. There’s a folded note on your nightstand in careful handwriting:

Went to get you water. Don’t move. –S

You snort and stay right where you are.

A few minutes later, the door opens and he steps in quietly, holding a glass in one hand and a small plate of toast in the other.

His eyes meet yours.

“…You remember everyting?” he asks softly.

You nod “All of it.”

He sets the things down on the nightstand “You look less like you’re going to punch me today.”

You smirk “I still might.”

A pause.

Then, you look at him seriously “Thank you. For last night. For not… taking advantage."

He looks almost offended “I would never.”

“I know,” you say gently “That’s why it meant so much.”

Another pause.

You take the water, sip it. Then look up at him.

“Still keeping that kiss for when I’m 100% sober?” you ask, tilting your head.

He stares for a second.

Then moves slowly toward the bed.

You shift, knees bent under the blanket as he stops right in front of you.

“I’m still kind of scared” he admits.

“Of what?”

“That if I do this… I won’t be able to stop. I won’t want to.”

You smile “Maybe I don’t want you to stop.”

He exhales, heart in his throat.

Then he leans in, slowly, like giving you a hundred chances to pull away.

You don’t.

When his lips finally touch yours, it’s soft. Careful. Not rushed.

It’s not perfect, he’s nervous, and so are you, but it’s real. It’s warm. His hand comes up to cup your cheek and you lean into it like it’s the only thing holding you together.

You kiss him again, this time slower, longer.

When you pull back, your foreheads rest together.

“Still scared?” you whisper.

“Yeah,” he says, breathless “But it’s better than pretending I don’t feel anything.”

You grin and pull him back in.

538 notes · View notes

kiyomitakada · 8 months ago

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i know its a classic. possibly cliche already. but i do wonder about Tumblr In The Death Note Universe probably more than i should

2 notes

💅 toxicbff Follow

if i see one more post attributing kira's powers to ~supernatural powers~ instead of the obvious fact that the cia is doing a coup I'm going to start giving You the heart attacks

💅 toxicbff

of course i saw the news how does that not prove my point further

the idea that all the police around the world could be mobilized by one single person is ridiculous (just look at this list of how many civilian militia there are globally)

heart attack victims don't seize the way "lind l tailor" did

i don't know how to tell you that You Can't Kill People Just By Knowing Their Name And Face because this is Real Life and not the newest grimdark marvel villain

people need to stop being scared of the ~bogeyman in the closet~ and wake up to the fact that usamerica is trying to take over the goddamned world

💅 toxicbff

im going to kill you all and nuke this website

#sayonara you weeaboo shits

2,925 notes

👾 lets-go-geeks Follow

DO TRUMP NEXT

🕵🏾‍♀️ penny-penelope Follow

LIKES TO CHARGE REBLOGS TO CAST

16,375 notes

❤️‍🔥 lovesickened Follow

i know its stupid but im so fucking scared for my brother i heard that seven people died this week at the prison he's in and iinjust dont kenow what to do ihate him for ehat he did to mom but i never wanted him to die

#vent tw #delete later

0 notes

🏎 fastandyurious Follow

if i get a single more comment about why i don't tag "genderbend" on my kiratective fics i'm going to blow up the entire building. we don't know EITHER of their genders. why don't YOU tag your mediocre yaoi genderbend instead

🔆 sparkling-world Follow

…OP, you realize the news reports all consistently use "he," right?

🏎 fastandyurious

of course i do???? just because you see something on the news doesn't mean you have to believe it?????? they don't have any information on kira yet but i'm supposed to believe the fbi knows their gender already??????? also kira is literally a fucking girl's name my classmate in elementary school was called kira

🔆 sparkling-world

Kira comes from the Japanese romanization for "killer," it isn't gendered whatsoever.

Also, evidence shows the majority of serial killers are male, so I'd argue that the statistics favor the fujoshis here.

🏎 fastandyurious

well evidence shows that female serial killers are just more fun to write about and I'd argue that you're ignoring my fucking POINT which is that we DON'T KNOW KIRA'S GENDER and if people don't want to read lesbian kiratective they can FUCK OFF MY BLOG

🥚 i-offer-eggman Follow

I offer you an Eggman in these trying times.

🔮 I-stands-for-le-gay Follow

@lashitpostcalligrapher yo can i get "the statistics favor the fujoshis" on my tombstone

#fandom: kira rpf #ship: kiral #never heard it called kiratective before… #also uh. prayer circle for op's classmate lmaoooo

2,107 notes

💃🏻 modelingmadness Follow

BOYCOTT EIGHTEEN MAGAZINE

THEY ALLOW KIRA-SUPPORTING MODELS AND ARE COMPLICIT IN THIS MASSACRE

SOURCES HERE AND HERE (TRIGGER WARNING: KIRA DISCUSSION)

PUSH BACK AGAINST HEART ATTACKS

🧚🏽‍♂️ harubaru Follow

golly gee ^_^ suddenly i feel like taking to the high seas in a way that the eighteen company cant get profit from. oh no ! who left this link here

🐦‍⬛ kuro--misa Follow

thanks for the link but jesus fucking christ man what happened to free speech. misa-misa's parents were killed by a burglar who kira punished. did you all expect her to just sit there, look pretty, and say nothing about it?

you people only like models when they're nice pictures for you to consume. you only like them two-dimensional and smiling and hot. the second a woman actually speaks her mind she's thrown to the wolves

💃🏻 modelingmadness

DID YOU NOT SEE MY BANNER YOU PIECE OF SHIT

#BLOCKED

140 notes

🐦‍⬛ kuro--misa Follow

lol. lmao even

#they blocked me but whatever #official eighteen site just said misamisa wont be in the next issue #(eighteen sucks but i kind of want to use it more out of spite now) #so much for apologism huh? #god. i feel sick. #hasn't she been through enough.

1 note

🥷🏻 kira-imagines Follow

Imagine you're going home after a long day. Suddenly there's a sound. "Huh? Whose there" you ask, dropping your keys on the floor. Then you feel it. A knife pressing in your neck.

"Don't move kitten" Kira purrs behind you. "You're all mine now…"

#kiraxreader #kiraxoc #kira #kira rpf #kira investigation #kira fucker #kira fudger #kira lover #kira haters dont touch #kira haters please touch #kira supporters please touch #l

5,733 notes

asahi-the-student-deactivated201

Hello, everyone! My little sister told me about this microblogging platform (I admit, I'm a Twitter refugee) and that many of you are discussing the Kira investigation on here. I'm really interested in hearing what your thoughts are!

💋 sunny-sayu Follow

let the record show he lasted like. a day

#i think it was the imagines that did him in #bro is so sensitive :p

15 notes

kiyomitakada

the world could be beautiful

[next post]

[ @deathnotetober day 14: trigger ]

#death note #light yagami #sayu yagami #misa amane #lawlight #by uh. technicality.#does 'trigger warning' fit the prompt i hope it does…#also there are two (2) rickrolls in this post #the other links are all to actual fun stuff :3 #good luck #deathnotetober #edit: fixed the FUCKIGN reblog dividers GOD DAMN IT #unreality #caps #edit 2: fixed the reblog dividers again theyre transparent now #…………wow i really just. spent four hours on this huh.#maybe i am experiencing slight mania #only slight #death note tumblr

560 notes · View notes

sh4nksslvt · 2 months ago

Text

When Love Grows Quiet

Four different loves — each unraveling in its own way, where silence cuts deeper than swords and love isn't always enough to stay.

shanks x reader | zoro x reader | law x reader | mihawk x reader | ONE SHOT tags: angst, sfw, heartbreak, emotional neglect, falling out of love, hurt/no comfort, isolation, miscommunication a/n: this js me trying to write ffs, this is experimental and for fun only, so expect this ff a bit cringe, akward, and confusing word count: 2.5k

masterlist | ko-fi

: 𓏲🐋 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✩࿐࿔ 🌊

SHANKS

The bar was loud, filled with the buzz of half-drunken laughter, tankards slamming against tables, and music that you once loved but now loathed. You sat in the farthest corner, away from the warmth of the crowd, clutching a half-empty glass of something you didn’t order. The ice was melting fast — like the slow disintegration of what used to be your heart.

Shanks was at the center of it all.

Again.

He always was.

“Another round!” he bellowed, raising his cup high in the air as the Red-Haired Pirates cheered. The crew adored him. They should — he was charismatic, fierce, warm, and generous with his attention.

Just not with you. Not anymore.

Your gaze lingered on him. His hair, a fiery halo in the dim light, his grin — that same one that once made you feel like the most important person in the world — now belonged to everyone else.

He didn’t even notice you when you walked in.

“Y/N, there you are!” Lucky Roux called from across the bar, waving at you with his usual cheer. “C’mon, join us!”

Shanks looked over his shoulder, eyes falling on you for a split second. There was recognition — maybe even guilt — but it was gone too fast. He raised his cup in your direction. No words. No movement. Just a lazy toast.

You forced a smile, then looked away.

You’d been with him for two years. It had started with stolen moments under stars, whispered promises between waves. “When this is all over, I’ll settle down. With you,” he’d say, voice dipped in warmth, hand on your cheek. You believed him.

But it never ended. And you stopped asking.

There were always more islands to visit, more allies to meet, more enemies to fight, and more nights he stumbled back to the ship reeking of rum and adrenaline, too tired to remember your name.

You stayed because you loved him.

Or maybe you stayed because you were afraid of what your life would look like without him in it.

But tonight felt different.

You pushed your glass aside and stood, your legs numb from sitting too long. You crossed the room, weaving through sailors and crewmates until you reached him.

“Shanks.”

He looked at you, surprised. Like he hadn’t expected you to speak first.

“Can we talk?”

His smile faltered. “Now? Can it wait? We’re just—”

“No,” you said, quieter, firmer. “It really can’t.”

He followed you outside without protest. The night air was cool, the moonlight bathing the ship in pale light.

You turned to him. “Do you remember what you promised me?”

He blinked. “Which one?”

You almost laughed. “That says everything, doesn’t it?”

“Y/N…”

“You told me we’d settle. That you’d come back for me. That I wasn’t just another stop along your journey. Do you even realize how long I’ve been waiting?”

“I know,” he muttered. “But it’s complicated.”

“No. It’s not. Not really. You just never made space for me.” Your voice trembled. “I don’t need riches or islands. I don’t even need peace. I just needed to know I mattered.”

He took a step forward. “You do matter.”

“Do I?” You looked up at him. “When was the last time you asked how I felt? When was the last time you chose me over adventure? Over your crew? Over another drink?”

He opened his mouth, but no answer came.

You continued, softer now, each word heavy. “I used to believe I was lucky to be loved by you. But now I realize… maybe I was just convenient. Someone to come back to when the world wasn’t enough.”

“That’s not fair,” he said, jaw clenched.

“Neither is loving someone who only loves you when it suits them.”

A silence settled. Heavy. Final.

He looked away. “What are you saying?”

You took a shaky breath. “I’m leaving.”

His eyes snapped to yours. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do. I have to. Because if I don’t now, I never will.” You paused. “I loved you so much, Shanks. But I’m tired of waiting for you to love me back in the way I deserve.”

You turned before he could say more, before the tears spilled.

The crew watched you go. No one stopped you. Maybe they knew too.

Shanks didn’t follow.

Maybe he couldn’t.

Maybe deep down, he knew you were already gone.

And this time, no promise would bring you back.

ZORO

The clatter of blades in the training room echoed through the ship like thunder.

Again.

You stood outside the door, hand hovering just above the wood, listening. Zoro had been in there since sunrise. The sun was beginning to set.

You pressed your palm flat against the door. It was warm.

He didn’t hear you. He never did when he was training.

You opened the door anyway.

He stood in the center, shirtless, sweat clinging to his skin, his chest rising and falling with exertion. His swords were laid neatly on the rack nearby, save for the one still in his hand — his favorite. Wado Ichimonji. His first love.

You didn’t speak right away.

He noticed you after a few seconds, green hair clinging to his face. “Oh. Hey.”

“That all you’ve got for me?” you asked, arms crossed.

He shrugged. “Been training.”

“You were supposed to meet me. Two hours ago.”

Zoro blinked. “Shit. Was that today?”

A beat passed. You tried not to let the disappointment crack through your voice. “Yeah. It was today.”

It wasn’t the first time.

Zoro wasn’t cruel. He wasn’t dismissive in the way that most would notice. He was just… focused. Sharpened, like his blades, honed only for one goal: to become the strongest swordsman in the world.

And you had once admired that. Loved it, even.

But lately, it felt like you were always chasing his shadow, always making room for his dreams, even if it meant shrinking your own.

You walked into the room, picking up the cloth he used to wipe his sweat, tossing it to him. “You forgot again.”

“I didn’t mean to,” he said, running it over his forehead.

“I know,” you whispered.

And maybe that’s what hurt the most.

The days blurred.

Dinner conversations turned into one-sided stories from you. Nights became silent, save for the occasional grunt as Zoro collapsed into bed, already half asleep. You missed the way he used to fall asleep beside you — not just near you — like you were a harbor in his storm. Now, he drifted in and out like a ghost, always just beyond reach.

You finally snapped one quiet night.

“Zoro, do you even love me?”

He looked up from cleaning his blade, brow furrowed. “What kind of question is that?”

You sat on the bed, fingers twisting in your lap. “One I keep asking myself.”

He stood up, face unreadable. “Of course I love you.”

“Then why don’t I feel it?”

The silence that followed was thick. Not awkward — just empty. Like a room without furniture.

“I’m doing this for us,” he finally said. “Everything. My training. My dream.”

“No, you’re doing it for you. And that’s okay, Zoro.” Your voice broke. “But stop pretending I’m part of that dream when I’m just an afterthought.”

“That’s not fair,” he said.

“I used to think that too,” you whispered. “But you keep showing me otherwise.”

The next morning, you packed.

Not everything — just what you needed. You didn’t want to make a scene.

When you turned to leave, he was there. Leaning against the doorframe, arms folded.

“You’re leaving?” he asked, voice rough with sleep and disbelief.

You nodded. “Yeah.”

He stared for a long time. “Why now?”

“Because if I stay, I’ll start hating you. And I don’t want to hate you.”

Zoro opened his mouth, then closed it again. “I never meant to hurt you.”

“I know.”

He took a step forward. “Don’t I get a chance to fix it?”

“You’ve had a hundred chances,” you said, gently. “I gave you all of them.”

He looked down, the tension in his body visible.

You moved past him. He didn’t stop you.

Not physically.

But god, you wished he would.

You heard the sound of blades again as you walked down the corridor, echoing from the training room.

Zoro was already back at it.

Maybe it was easier for him to fight with steel than with words.

And maybe that’s why you couldn’t stay — because you needed someone who could choose you the way you kept choosing him.

Even if it broke your heart.

LAW

The Polar Tang was quiet at night.

Most of the crew had gone to sleep, their laughter faded into distant echoes through the metal halls. You sat alone in the infirmary, the light above flickering in tired pulses, casting shadows across the empty bed beside you.

It used to be your place. Your shared space.

Now it was just another cold room.

The door slid open with a mechanical hiss. Law stepped inside, coat trailing, his presence commanding — but not unkind. His face was the same as always. Calm. Collected. Impenetrable.

You didn’t turn to greet him.

“You’re still awake,” he said, voice low.

“So are you.”

He paused. “Long day.”

“Every day is a long day with you.”

That made him pause longer than usual. You saw it — the subtle twitch of his hand, the way his gaze lingered on you before shifting to the medical charts on the wall, as if reading them gave him a reason not to face you.

You finally stood, arms crossed. “You didn’t even ask how I’m doing.”

“You’re not injured,” he replied, like that explained everything.

You laughed bitterly. “You think that’s all that matters?”

He looked at you now. Really looked.

“You’re not bleeding,” he said, “so I assumed you were fine.”

“And that’s the problem, Law,” you snapped, “you only know how to fix things you can see. But what about everything else?”

He was always distant. He didn’t mean to be — it was just how he survived. You knew that going in. Law was brilliant, brave, and wounded in ways most couldn’t see. He didn’t wear his pain on his sleeve; he buried it deep, under layers of strategy and silence.

You once thought love could bring him peace.

Instead, it made you feel invisible.

He sat on the edge of the bed, removing his gloves with surgical precision. “If you’re upset, just say it.”

“I’m always saying it,” you said. “I say it in every look you don’t return, every time you walk out without a word. I’m screaming it, Law, and you don’t hear me.”

His brow furrowed. “I’m trying.”

“No, you’re managing. There’s a difference.”

You took a step forward, throat tight. “Do you even want me here?”

He didn’t answer.

Not for a long time.

When he did, it was quiet. “I don’t know what I’d be without you.”

“That’s not the same as wanting me.”

You turned away, swallowing the burn behind your eyes. “I need more than this. I need to be seen. Heard. Held.”

“I’m not good at that.”

“I know,” you whispered. “And I’ve been patient. God, I’ve been so patient.”

He stood. “Then what do you want from me?”

You turned back to him, tears finally slipping down your cheek.

“I want to stop being the person waiting for you to feel something.”

There were so many things he could have said. So many things he didn’t.

No promises. No pleas. Just silence.

You left the room, footsteps echoing down the corridor. He didn’t follow. You didn’t expect him to.

Law wasn’t cruel. He was just… unreachable.

And you couldn’t keep drowning in his silence.

Later that night, he stood in the infirmary, alone, looking at the chair where you always sat.

He didn’t cry. He didn’t break.

But he whispered your name once — as if it would echo back.

It didn’t.

MIHAWK

Perched on the windowsill of Kuraigana Island's cold, stone castle, you watched the sun slip beneath the horizon. Even the sunset here felt distant — as if the colors were afraid to bloom fully, like the love you once thought lived within these walls.

Behind you, the quiet hum of Mihawk’s sword being cleaned was the only sound.

You didn’t turn. You didn’t speak.

Neither did he.

You’d once thought the silence between you was peaceful — now it felt suffocating.

When you first arrived, you mistook his quiet for serenity. Mihawk was a man of discipline, of stillness, and you found comfort in his control. He didn’t make empty promises, didn’t raise his voice, didn’t falter. It made you feel safe.

Until the days stretched long and the silence became unbearable.

You would speak to him at dinner, only to be met with the clink of cutlery. You would try to initiate conversation, only to find him more engrossed in wine than words.

You once thought you were an oasis for his loneliness.

Now you realized you were just another presence he tolerated.

“You haven’t looked at me once today,” you said finally, staring out at the orange light dying over the sea.

Mihawk paused, the cloth in his hand stilling on Yoru’s blade. “I saw you this morning.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

No response.

You stood slowly, turning to face him. He was sitting in that grand, throne-like chair by the fireplace. His posture was perfect. Controlled. Remote.

“Do you even care that I’m unhappy?”

“I care,” he replied after a beat. “But unhappiness is inevitable.”

You blinked. “That’s your answer?”

“I do not pretend to be something I’m not,” he said, voice even. “You knew who I was when you came here.”

“I knew who you seemed to be,” you said sharply. “But I thought — I hoped — that underneath all of this control, you might want to be known. That you might let me in.”

“I have let you in.”

“To your house. Not your heart.”

The air crackled.

Mihawk stood, moving with quiet authority. “I do not offer affection like others. I offer stability. Loyalty.”

“I never wanted gifts. Or flattery. I just wanted to feel chosen.” You laughed, bitter. “But all I’ve felt is... tolerated. Like I’m just another item in your collection of things that don’t rust or change.”

He said nothing.

You stepped closer. “You haven’t said you love me. Not once.”

“I do not speak lightly,” he said, almost offended.

“I’m not asking for flowery words. I’m asking for anything that tells me you feel something when you look at me.”

He stared at you — intense, golden eyes sharp as any blade.

“I would not have allowed you to stay if I did not value you.”

A pause. And then your voice, quiet, almost broken:

“That’s not love, Mihawk. That’s possession.”

The silence that followed was vast.

And it said everything.

You turned away, heading for the door.

“You’re leaving.”

“Yes.”

“You may find no comfort in the world beyond this place.”

“Maybe not,” you whispered. “But at least I’ll feel something.”

He did not follow. He did not stop you.

And that hurt worse than any goodbye.

Later, long after you’d gone, Mihawk stood alone in the great hall, Yoru resting silently on the stone altar. A storm gathered beyond the window, wind rushing over the sea like a howl.

He did not weep.

But he looked at the spot where your chair had been pulled out, slightly askew — and he didn’t move it back.

332 notes · View notes

vingtetunmars · 16 days ago

Text

Unlisted

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader

Summary: Back aboard the Razor Crest, she patched him up, hands shaking from both adrenaline and something deeper. When she thanked him, he told her his name—Din Djarin.

Part 1 / Part 2

Tags: NSFW, smut (18+), Enemies to Lovers-ish?, Grogu plays matchmaker, set after season 3, slow burn, getting together, protective Din Djarin, they're a family and they're about to know it, star wars content that may or may not be canon. No mentions of Y/N.

A/N: I present you the final part!! Let me know what you think of their journey!! If you have any requests, suggestions, or thoughts, feel free to send me a message. Reblogs are appreciated. Please do not steal or cross-post it on another platform without asking. Thank you.

Word Count: 4k

masterlist

The Razor Crest door sealed shut behind you with a hiss.

Din slumped down on the bench in the hold, his breathing tight beneath the beskar chestplate.

You were already digging through the med kit before he even sat fully.

“Take it off.”

“I can do it myself—”

“You just took a blaster bolt, Mandalorian. Don’t be a karking hero right now.”

There was a long pause.

Then, without a word, he started peeling off his armor piece by piece. The chestplate. Gauntlets. The flight suit pulled down to his waist, exposing the wound on his ribs — not life-threatening, but deep and angry. Blood matted the undersuit, thick and drying.

You took a breath. Steadied your hands.

He didn’t flinch as you pressed the medspray against the burn. You noticed his jaw tighten under the helmet, though.

“You’re lucky it cauterized as it hit,” you muttered, working quickly. “Another inch and you’d be in surgery.”

“Lucky,” he echoed, dry.

You tried to hide the shake in your fingers as you reached for gauze. But he caught it.

“You’re good at this,” he said.

You glanced up at him. “I worked medical before intel. Before everything else.”

There was beat of silence for a moment. Then:

“Din.”

Your hands paused.

“…What?”

He nodded once. “Din Djarin.”

“That's my name.”

You didn’t say anything right away. Just repeated it in your head — quietly stunned that he’d shared something so personal, so sacred in his culture, without you asking.

“Thank you,” you said.

He looked away slightly, then back. “I trust you.”

You blinked.

Your pulse stuttered.

Then his voice softened — lower than you’d ever heard it.

“Promise me to keep your eyes closed?”

Your breath caught. You hesitated only a second.

Then nodded. “Yes.”

You turned away and closed your eyes.

Behind you, there was the faint hiss of the helmet’s release. The shift of air. The weight of it coming off.

The hold was quiet — you could hear only your own breathing.

“Hey.”

There it was, his unmodulated voice, churning up a feeling in the pit of your stomach.

You turned your head slightly but kept your eyes shut. “Yeah?”

A long beat.

Then you felt his fingers — gloved still — gently touch your chin. Tilting your face up toward his.

You weren’t sure who moved first.

Maybe it didn’t matter.

All you knew was his lips brushed yours — careful at first, then firm, certain. He tasted like cold air and heat all at once. You melted into him, hands resting lightly on his chest, over the bandages you’d just wrapped.

It was slow. Real.

When he pulled back, you were still breathless.

Eyes still shut, you whispered, “You should put it back on.”

He lingered for a moment — his forehead brushing yours.

Then, the quiet hiss again as the helmet sealed back into place.

You finally opened your eyes.

Din sat back down, visor turned toward the floor.

But you knew now. You knew.

You had kissed the man under the metal — not the bounty hunter. Not the Mandalorian.

Just Din.

And your heart was racing like it never had before.

You were both in the hold again, the hum of the ship wrapping around you like a low lullaby. Din was checking a weapon, seated beside you, while Grogu curled up on your lap.

Nothing had been said since Lothal.

But something had shifted.

His gloved hand brushed yours when you passed him a tool earlier. It lingered just a second too long.

When he walked past you in the narrow corridor, his fingers grazed your waist like it was muscle memory.

And now, as he sat beside you, his knee pressed against yours. Neither of you moved away.

None of it was intentional. At least, not in the way that called attention. It just was. A silent language you were both slowly learning to speak.

You found yourself watching him more. Not out of suspicion like before — but curiosity, and something quieter. His movements. The way he handled gear. How he carried Grogu with a gentleness that didn’t match the steel of his armor.

He glanced up from his work, catching your gaze. You didn’t look away.

After a beat, he tilted his head slightly. “You okay?”

You nodded, lips twitching. “Just thinking.”

“About?”

“Everything…”

“You trust Teva?” you asked.

Din nodded. “He’s one of the few left with his head screwed on. If anyone can help finish this… it’s him.”

You studied his helmet. “And after?”

He was silent for a moment. “We’ll figure it out.”

Another brush of his hand over yours.

It wasn’t a promise. But it was enough.

You smiled softly and let your head drop back against the wall, letting the hum of the hyperdrive settle in your bones.

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒──

The Razor Crest landed on Nevarro with a low rumble, the dust of the plains billowing beneath its engines as it settled.

You were at Din’s side as the ramp lowered, Grogu in your arms—tucked in close to your chest with his little ears flapping in the wind.

Greef Karga was already waiting. Regal as ever in his embroidered robes, arms outstretched, a grin plastered across his face.

“Mando!” Greef’s booming voice filled the stone corridor as he stepped out to meet you. He was dressed sharp as ever, cape swishing behind him. “About time you showed your face again. Thought you finally ditched this planet for good.”

Karga’s eyes slid toward you, and then down to Grogu.

“Well, well. The little one’s still with you… and who’s this?” he asked, glancing at your hooded figure.

Din placed a hand gently on your back. “A friend.”

Greef raised a brow, something between a grin and a smirk forming on his face. “A friend, huh?”

You said nothing, just offered a nod. But Greef was still watching the two of you closely. He caught the subtle way you stood angled toward Din. The space between you that wasn’t really space.

“Oh, I see how it is.” He chuckled. “Stars help me, I never thought I’d see the day the Mandalorian brought someone back voluntarily.”

Din shifted slightly, clearing his throat under the helmet. “Greef.”

“Alright, alright,” he held up his hands, grinning. “He’s in my office. Come on.”

The three of you stepped inside. Greef’s office was spacious but grounded — maps, holo-consoles, a few trophies and trade artifacts on the walls. At the center, standing near the large desk, was a familiar man in a New Republic flight jacket.

Captain Carson Teva.

His eyes lifted the moment you entered.

Din stood a little straighter beside you.

Teva looked between the two of you for a long beat, then to Grogu.

“So this is the one who sent you down a spiral,” he said to Din, voice light but curious.

You blinked. “Spiral?”

Din didn’t respond.

Teva stepped closer, eyeing you not unkindly — cautious, but not hostile. “Can’t say I expected you to come in with her.”

“You didn’t give me a whole lot to go on,” Din replied. “Didn’t stop me.”

“She give you trouble?”

“She gave me a chase.”

You crossed your arms. “Still beat you for a minute, though.”

That earned a quiet snort from Greef and a raised brow from Teva.

“You’re not what I expected,” Teva said to you.

“Good,” you replied, pulling your hood down slightly. “Means the New Republic is still bad at surveillance.”

Teva smiled just faintly, then looked to Din. “You said you had something. Proof?”

“Yeah,” Din said, reaching into a small secure pouch at his belt. He handed over the encrypted data chip — the one you pulled from the repainted outpost on Lothal. “She said this is what they were trying to hide.”

Teva took it with both hands. “I’ll need to get this decrypted and reviewed before anything happens officially. But if it checks out…”

He looked at you again.

“…you might get your name back.”

You didn’t react right away.

Just nodded. “I’d like that.”

There was something else in the air now. Heavier. More final.

But then Greef clapped his hands. “Well, that’s for tomorrow. Tonight, drinks are on me. Or maybe blue milk for the little one.”

Grogu chirped from Din’s chest.

And for the first time in a long time, you allowed yourself to feel… relief.

Not safety yet. Not completely.

But the sense that maybe, just maybe, you were heading toward it.

Together.

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒──

That night, the Nevarro sky was unusually clear. Stars blinked across the inky dark, and the lights of the settlement hummed low in the distance. You stood just outside Greef’s compound, arms crossed loosely, taking in the quiet. For once, there was no need to run.

Behind you, boots crunched gently against the gravel.

“Are you cold?” Din’s voice.

You turned. He wasn’t wearing full gear anymore — just the basics, helmet still on, gloves removed. You shook your head. “No.”

He hesitated a beat, then gestured toward the speeder bike waiting nearby.

“Come with me.”

You raised a brow. “Where to?”

“My place.”

That made your heart stutter, just a little. You nodded, quietly following him.

The cabin wasn’t far. Secluded on the outskirts of the lava flats, not far from a calm, glassy stream. Simple and compact — just like him. A heavy durasteel door, sandstone exterior, warm lights spilling from the windows.

Din pushed the door open and held it for you. You stepped inside.

It smelled like metal and leather and spice.

“Didn’t expect you to have a place here,” you said, running your fingers over the shelf lined with small, weathered trinkets — a compass, a hydro-spanner, a child’s carved toy.

“I don’t stay often. Just when things get… loud.”

You turned to him, watched him lean against the doorframe, arms crossed. He looked tired. Not just from the mission — from all of it. And still, he chose to carry your weight too.

“Thank you,” you said quietly. “For not turning me in. For everything.”

He tilted his head slightly. “You didn’t give me much choice.”

You smiled faintly. “Sure I did. You just made the hard one.”

A few heartbeats passed in silence.

“Mesh’la,” he said softly, the word heavier now.

You stepped closer.

“Are you going to tell me what that means?”

“No.”

You blinked. “Why not?”

“Because you’ll leave,” he said, voice low. “Or you’ll stay and I’ll get reckless. Either way, I lose.”

Your breath caught.

“You’re already being reckless,” you said.

He gave a small, sad laugh. “Yeah.”

There was a pause.

Then you reached for him, slow, deliberate — fingers brushing the edge of his chest plate. “Take it off.”

“Mesh’la—”

“Just the helmet. I won’t look.”

He stilled.

You moved your hands to his vambraces, gently removing them. He didn’t stop you.

“I want to kiss you, Din.”

Silence.

“Turn around.”

You did.

You heard the click of the release, the shift of weight. His breath.

“Promise me,” he said, voice unmodulated now, lower, real.

“I promise.”

And when his hands found your waist, steady and calloused, you turned back around — eyes closed — and met his mouth.

It was a slow, careful collision of heat and restraint, the kind of kiss you gave when you thought it might be the only one you’d ever have. He tasted like dust and warmth and a dozen unspoken things. His hands came up to your face, cradling it like it was something rare.

Like you were something he didn’t deserve — but wanted anyway.

And when he whispered your name against your lips, your heart stammered.

You leaned into him, letting your hands wander over the beskar plates before finding the gaps—where his warmth bled through. He started removing the armor, piece by piece, letting it fall with quiet thuds onto the ground. You helped, fingers trembling as they undid straps, fastenings, layers.

Eventually, there was only him.

Only Din.

He lifted you without effort and carried you to his bed—just a small cot in the corner of the modest cabin. It shouldn’t have felt sacred, but it did.

His touch was reverent. Exploring. He took his time learning your edges, your sounds. There was urgency, but it was tempered by how much he wanted to remember this.

Your clothes disappeared slowly under his fingers, each layer falling like a secret shared.

“You sure?” he whispered, forehead resting against yours.

You nodded, your voice soft. “Yes.”

What followed was a blur of sensation—his calloused fingers, the soft rasp of his breath, the way he whispered your name like a vow.

Then, you heard it. A soft tear of fabric. Before you could ask, something warm and dark was tied gently over your eyes.

A blindfold.

He hovered close, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Trust me?”

Your voice caught. “Yes.”

The world faded to sound, touch, breath.

Every sensation was heightened. His fingers tracing along your thighs. The brush of his lips on your neck. The weight of him above you. He explored you as if you were holy. A prayer on his lips as he kissed your skin.

Your breath hitched when you felt him press against your entrance, the heat of him barely restrained. He didn’t rush. Instead, he teased, dragging along your skin, brushing places that made you tremble.

His voice broke the haze. “You feel like heaven, mesh’la.”

You gasped. The name again. Soft and rough all at once.

He guided your legs around his waist and sank into you slowly, deeply, the connection drawing a choked sound from both of you. You clutched at his shoulders, his back, grounding yourself in him.

The pace built gradually. Gentle thrusts turned needy, desperate. His lips never left your skin.

Each roll of his hips sent sparks through you.

You whispered his name—“Din”—and he shuddered like it undid him.

“Again,” he rasped. “Say it again.”

“Din.”

You tightened around him, the sounds of your pleasure filling the small room. His breath hitched against your shoulder.

The pressure between you both began to crest, higher and higher. His hand found yours and held tight, anchoring you both as you tumbled together, riding out the waves, trembling in the aftermath.

��─⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒──

You woke to warmth. Not the artificial kind from a heating unit or the sun bleeding through durasteel blinds, but real warmth—shared, alive, steady.

Your back pressed lightly against his chest. His arm was wrapped low around your waist, protective but loose, like he’d fallen asleep mid-thought. His breaths came slow and deep, brushing the back of your neck in quiet rhythm. Every now and then, he let out a soft exhale that rumbled against your skin.

For a long moment, you didn’t move.

You didn’t need to.

Your body felt warm. Sore in a good way. A quiet hum lived under your skin, leftover from the night before. From him.

From Din.

You smiled to yourself, fingers lightly brushing over the hand resting against your stomach.

For the first time in a long time, there was no urgency. No bounty to worry about. No escape to plan. You felt—content. Safe, even. A rare emotion you’d almost forgotten the shape of.

A smile pulled at your lips as you closed your eyes again.

An idea formed—half ridiculous, half sincere.

You were still facing away from him. You knew he was probably still sleeping, and if he wasn’t, he would stop you if it bothered him. So carefully, slowly, you reached for the hand resting against your stomach and lifted it, pressing a soft kiss to the scarred knuckles before letting it fall back.

Then, just as carefully, you rolled onto your back and shifted to face him—without opening your eyes.

You were careful not to peek. His creed meant everything to him. And you meant it when you’d promised to keep your eyes closed.

So instead, you let your fingertips do the seeing.

Your fingertips brushed the side of his face, feather-light.

He tensed for a second—then relaxed. You smiled.

Your hand moved slowly, gently. His jaw was strong, stubbled. You traced the sharp edge of it, then let your fingers drift upward, over his cheek. There, a small scar beneath his cheekbone. Your thumb brushed it like a secret.

Then higher—his brow.

There were lines there. More than you expected. You skimmed across them, the faint creases at the corners of his eyes too. Laugh lines, or maybe tired ones. A man who had seen too much. Lived too much. Fought too long.

You liked them.

There was something strangely grounding about it—like every ridge and groove told a story. You could almost imagine what he looked like just by feel alone. Strong. Serious. A little weathered.

Oh… He's older than I thought.

Din exhaled a soft breath through his nose. “What are you doing, Mesh’la?” he mumbled, voice thick with sleep.

You froze, hand still resting against his face.

“Didn’t look,” you said quickly, still keeping your eyes shut. “I swear.

“Did I wake you?”

He hummed. “Maybe. Didn’t mind it.”

You looked at him—chest, neck, anywhere but his face. “I didn’t look,” you said quietly.

“I know.” His voice was warm. Trusting. “You never do.”

You leaned into him, brushing your nose against his throat. “I was just… feeling.”

A pause. Then, almost bashfully: “What did I feel like?”

You smiled. “Stubborn jaw. Quiet strength. A little scarred, a little tired.”

Another pause.

“Handsome”

“Sounds about right,” he murmured, pressing a kiss into your hair.

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒──

The office was too quiet for how heavy the tension sat.

Now, Teva looked at you more seriously. “So. Let’s see what was worth bending half the New Republic’s rules.”

You nodded, stepping forward with the small encrypted holopad—scavenged tech you and Din had retrieved from that long-abandoned Lothal outpost. You tapped in the codes, and the pad lit up with flickering blue light.

A set of names hovered in the air—dozens of them. Faces followed, and beneath them: titles, ranks, pay records, and damning communication transcripts. You brought up the worst of them first.

“About six cycles ago, I worked at a records verification under the New Republic, sorting post-Imperial intel and archives. It was supposed to be clean-up duty,” you said, fingers working quickly as you brought up the visuals. “But I found this list buried in encrypted list. These people—advisors, senators, security officers—they weren’t just sympathizers.”

You tapped again, and a series of holos blinked into view. Hushed meetings. Small groups talking in the corner of polished halls. Recognizable faces saying words like ‘legacy,’ ‘reinstatement,’ and ‘our time isn’t over.’

“I decrypted personal communications. Backchannel credits. Half of them were planning to undermine key systems, even orchestrating ‘disruptions’ to destabilize outer rim governance.”

Teva frowned, stepping closer. “And you just… stumbled on this?”

“I flagged it internally. Thought it was a mistake. Got radio silence. Two days later, my clearance was revoked. Then the bounty went out.”

She pulled up the timestamp: her final upload to the secure New Republic database before she vanished. It was never followed up on.

Captain Teva paced slowly in front of Greef’s desk, reading over the holopad you’d handed him—what you risked everything to retrieve back on Lothal. Din stood tall at your side, silent but steady. A constant.

Teva’s brow furrowed the longer he scrolled.

“Stars above…” he muttered.

Greef let out a low whistle from behind his chair, leaning back with a grin that didn’t reach his eyes. “You weren’t kidding, Mando. She really did dig up a hornet’s nest.”

You didn’t flinch. “That nest’s been rotting since the end of the war.”

Teva glanced at you, then Din. “You’re sure this is real? No forgeries? No bait?”

Din spoke before you could. “We extracted it ourselves. Her lead. My blade.”

“And you said this was from an outpost painted over by the New Republic?”

“Lothal,” you confirmed. “One of many, I’m sure. But this one still had a live uplink to an internal archive. Buried deep. I think they meant to keep it secret, even from themselves.”

Teva tapped through a few more files, his jaw clenched tighter with every name and transmission. “These people—some of them are sitting in command seats. Fleet captains, governors… gods, even some in the amnesty program.”

“Or hiding behind it,” you added. “Getting clean records, smiling for the cameras.”

“I’ve been suspicious for a while,” Teva muttered. “This confirms more than I wanted to believe.”

Greef rubbed his chin, eyes sharp. “So what happens now, Captain? You gonna take it up the chain?”

“I’ll have to. But carefully.” Teva looked up at you again. “You do realize this list could get you killed ten times over, right?”

You nodded. “It already has.”

A pause.

Teva sighed, slipping the chip into an encrypted pouch on his belt. “You understand if I run this through official channels, they’ll try to bury it. Or you.”

“I know. That’s why I gave it to you,” you said. “Because Din trusts you.”

Teva met your eyes. He wasn’t smiling. But there was something in the way he regarded you now—respect, maybe.

“I’ll need time,” he said. “If this is what you say it is, it’ll make a lot of people panic. Which means we’ve got a short window before someone starts covering their tracks.”

“Then we’ll help however we can,” Din said.

Teva stood and slipped the stick into a pocket of his flight jacket. “I’ll have to work around the bureaucracy. Quietly. If I can clear your name completely, I will. But it won’t happen overnight.”

“I’ve waited this long,” you replied. “I can wait a little longer.”

Greef Karga, who’d stayed surprisingly quiet through most of the exchange, finally chimed in with a smirk. “Well, if nothing else, you’ve got a hell of a story to tell.”

Din looked at you.

And you looked back—shoulders a little straighter, the weight a little lighter.

For the first time in a long while, you weren’t running.

You were fighting.

And this time, you weren’t alone.

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒──

The cabin was quiet, save for the soft whir of the kettle heating and the occasional shuffle of Grogu dragging his blanket across the wooden floor. The scent of spiced caf drifted through the air, mingling with the faint musk and forest outside the window.

You stood at the counter, Din’s oversized tunic wrapped around your frame, sleeves hanging over your hands as you stirred the pot on the stove. You weren’t in a rush. Mornings here had their own rhythm. Slow. Gentle. Safe.

From the bedroom, heavy footsteps approached, and you felt arms wrap around your waist from behind—strong and familiar, pulling you close. You leaned back into him easily, smiling as Din’s chin rested on your shoulder.

“Morning,” you murmured.

“Morning, cyar'ika,” he said, voice still husky from sleep.

“Need help?” he asked, voice gravelly with sleep.

You leaned back into him with a hum. “Too late. Breakfast is almost done.”

“Still looks like you’re burning it.”

You elbowed him, grinning as his chuckle brushed against your ear.

It was quiet here. Not lonely. Just…peaceful.

The kind of peace you’d never thought you’d earn.

You’d learn some Mando'a after your wedding—after the vows, spoken in the quiet of the woods beneath the stars, witnessed only by Grogu and the wind.

"Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde,”

You hadn’t needed a ceremony, not a traditional one. Just his voice, his heart, and his promise. When he took off his helmet that night, placing it gently to the side before kissing you, you hadn’t looked away once.

Din Djarin was beautiful.

Not the pretty kind of beautiful, but the kind shaped by grief and grit, quiet strength and guarded gentleness. His eyes were brown, sun-worn, but when they looked at you—truly looked—you forgot how to breathe.

And you smiled. Not wide. Not giddy. But warm. Whole.

“Not disappointed, then?” he had asked, a rare smile touching his mouth, half-teasing.

You shook your head, brushing your fingers gently along the edge of his jaw. “Not even a little.”

Since then, he didn’t always wear the helmet in the house. Only when others came. Only when he needed to.

Grogu, as always, was the heart of it all—chasing frogs by the pond, curling up by the fire after meals, and now babbling a little more thanks to the soft, repetitive words you and Din murmured to him each day. He had his favorite spoon, a tiny sleeping nook by the fireplace, and an ever-growing collection of rocks he insisted were important.

This was your life now.

It hadn’t always been this quiet.

As for the data—Captain Teva delivered.

It wasn’t clean. There were fights in senate chambers, threats from powerful names, shadowed figures who tried to strike deals. But Teva was persistent, methodical. He leaked the files bit by bit—enough to rally honest New Republic senators, enough to trigger independent investigations.

Enough to make it matter.

Some of the officials disappeared. Others were arrested. A few managed to bury themselves deeper, but now they were being watched.

Your name was cleared.

And every trace of the “criminal” label was quietly removed from Republic records. Teva, though ever the loyal officer, had been promoted sideways—his quiet rebellion rewarded and punished all at once. But he kept his word. Your name was cleared. The bounty erased. You were free.

And yet, instead of running off to reclaim your old life, you’d chosen this one.

Here, in Din’s cabin. With him. With Grogu. With your odd little family.

You shared meals. Cleaned blasters. Took turns teaching Grogu words in Basic and Mando’a. You helped Din rewire the speeder when it sputtered on cold mornings. He taught you how to gut a fanged fish without losing a finger.

It wasn’t perfect. Sometimes Din snored. Sometimes Grogu stole your socks. Sometimes you had nightmares of the lower levels of Coruscant. But each night, Din would reach for you, grounding you with a hand on your waist, a kiss to your temple.

Part 1 / Part 2

taglist: @started-with-f-ends-with-uck @swissy23 @escapefromrealitylol @foxin5billion @jellybeanstacey0519

#kar's fics ☆#din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin smut #the mandalorian x you #pedro pascal #mandalorian x reader

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alastor-simp · 1 year ago

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Sickly Deer - Sick Alastor X Female Reader

❥Summary - Alastor is a very proud man, and he will almost never admit that something is wrong. However, you noticed he seemed a bit off today and wanted to know what was wrong?

❥Tags: Sick alastor, sick day, alastor becomes sick, female reader, reader takes care of a sick alastor, stubborn alastor, fluff , adorable fluff, taking care of someone sick

❥Notes: Always wanted to do a sick character story and I finally get to do one with Alastor.

Was a quiet day in the hotel today. Usually there was the occasional chaos, but surprisingly it was peaceful. Charlie and Vaggie were out shopping for groceries for the hotel. Angel was lounging in his room, relaxing with Fat Nuggets. Niffty was reading a book, most likely manga in the lounge room, with Husk taking a cat nap on the couch next to her. Sir Pentious was in his ship, crafting some devices with his egg bois.

You were lounging in the hotel library, enjoying some quiet time to yourself while reading. Well it was quiet for a second until you heard the sound of static-like cough coming from next to you. Alastor happened to be in the library as well, reading his weekly newspaper. He's usually very quiet when he reads, except with the occasional sound of humming or static. But this was new, as you almost never heard him cough or let alone sneeze for that matter. The coughing started slow, but then it kept getting rougher as he kept doing it, causing you to worry. "Hey Al?" Your eyes were gazing at him with concern. Alastor turned his head towards you, wearing his signature smile: “Yes? What is it my dear?” “Well, are you alright? I noticed you have been coughing a lot. Once you said that, Alastor let out a boisterous laugh. “Oh-ho! It is nothing my dear. Just a small tickle. Nothing to concern yourself with!” He waved his hand in the air, after he finished talking. You still felt unsure, but if he said it wasn’t a big deal, you wouldn’t question him.

How wrong you were, the more and more you saw Al throughout the day, the worse his cough got. Not only that, his face was slightly paler and a bit drenched with sweat. He still was acting like everything was alright, but you knew he was lying. Enough was enough. You caught up with Alastor, as he was walking down the hallway. “Alastor! Stop!” You yelled his name out. He stopped in front of you, and slowly turned around, head tilted in confusion. “You’re sick, aren’t you” Alastors face stayed neutral when you said that, but you knew you got him. “I told you already, my dear. It’s nothing to concern yourself with.” Alastor just smiled wider and turned away from you to continue walking. He was stopped again when he felt a hand grab one of his coat sleeves. His body grew tense and he turned back eerily, not appreciating you touching him. You gave him a strong look: “Well, I AM concerned. And you should be resting cause you’re only going to make it worse.” His garnet colored eyes locked on to yours, static in the air getting louder. “I am the radio demon, my dear. I do not get sick, so please remove your hand, n̸͚͇̏̉o̸̼̓ẇ̷̹̓.” His eyes flashed into radio dials for a split second, causing you to remove your hand from his sleeve quickly. “Thank you. Now then, I shall take my leave.” He turned back around and began to walk away from you. As you were watching him walk away, you noticed he drew to a stop again. His body was still up, but then he began to fall forward. “AL!”

**Alastor POV**

“Ugh….huh?” Alastors eyes opened slowly. He recognized he was in his hotel room as the ceiling was covered in grassy moss and leaves, as he was the one to change it due to his magic. He soon realized he was laying on his bed, wearing his pajamas as he slowly got up from lying down. He doesn’t recall heading back to his room, as his head was still a bit fuzzy. His head was throbbing and his throat was feeling sore. Alastor knew he was feeling sickly, but he refused to believe it. He hates to be perceived as weak, so he preferred to play it off that he was fine.

The sound of the door opening alerted him, causing him to look up. He sees you walking into his room, carrying a tray along with a plastic bag hanging from your arms. “Oh your awake? How are you feeling?” You bear a smile at him, as you walk closer to his bed, setting the tray down on the night stand. “How did I end up here?” Alastor questioned you, still confused at what happened. “You don’t remember?” Your eyes gazed at him back with concern. Alastor shook his head. “You fainted Al. I stopped you in the hallway cause I knew you were sick, but you said you were fine and as you walked away, you stopped and fell forward.” Al’s eyes widen at your statement, as he kept listening to you talk. “I carried you back to your room after that.” You gave him a small smile.

“I see. I’m sorry for the trouble you had to go through my dear, but I’m quite alright now.” Pulling the covers off, Al swung his feet to place them in the floor. He was stopped by a hand on his chest. “Oh no you don’t mister. You are staying in bed and getting better. Understand?” Your eyes were filled with determination. “My dear, I am qui-” “Understand?” His words were cut off by you. He continued to look at your face, seeing that you were refusing to budge. Heaving a sigh, he nodded his head. He positioned himself back to how he was on the bed. “Does anyone else know about my ailment?" He said, as you turned his head to look at you. You were removing some stuff out of the plastic bag and set them on the night stand before turning back to him. "The only ones who know are me and Niffty. No one else, I promise you. I had to tell her you were under the weather, and she told me to head to the store to get you some medicine while she made you some venison stew." Alastor continued to listen until he asked you another question: "Did you change me into my pajamas as well?" Your face flushed at that, and you shook your head no. "Your shadow happened to appear when I brought you to the bed. I told it to change you." Alastor just nodded his head at that, smiling at bit wider at your adorable reaction.

Grabbing one of the chairs from Al's desk, you brought it over to where his bed was and took a seat. Reaching for the bowl, you placed it on your lap. He observed you blow a bit on the spoon and hold it out to him, causing him to raise an eyebrow at you. "Come on Al. There's nothing wrong with me feeding you." Alastor sighed, and opened his mouth, allowing you to give him some of the stew that Niffty prepared. He was able to finish it all off, which pleased you. Placing the bowl back, you grabbed the medicine and a glass of water and handed it to him. Alastor grabbed it and quickly popped them in his mouth, chugging the water to get them down. Sighing, he laid back on the bed, placing his head on the pillow, turning it away from you. "I despise this feeling." He whispered that to himself, but you were able to pick up on it since you were still seated next to him. "What feeling?" you said back to him, tiling your head. "Alastor continued to look away. "The feeling of being sick. Makes me appear weak." Alastor grumbled out the response.

Alastor remained quiet after that. A hand was placed against his cheek, allowing his head to turn back towards you. His eyes widen at you, as he saw you wearing a kind smile. "You're not weak Alastor. Everyone gets sick from time to time, nothing wrong with it. Also, you should know the others would never think about that, they would rather you get some rest and get better." Your thumb stroked his cheek. Alastor listened to what you said and gave a sigh, closing his eyes. "I know, my dear. Just.....feels strange." Moving his hand, he placed it against the one on his cheek. "Thank you, my dear. If there comes a time where you are ailing, I will return the favor." His lips curved into a soft smile. He heard you chuckle, as your hand moved away from his cheek. "Get some rest, Al. I'll come back to check on you." Smiling, you got up from the chair, and grabbed the tray, heading over to the door. Alastor just watched you walk away, leaving his room, and closing the door. His eyes began to grow heavy, as his body started to relax, drifting into a deep sleep.

TAG LIST:

Tag List:

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berryispunk · 4 months ago

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Grocery Shopping

pairing: Frankie Morales x f! reader

summary: Your plan was to shop for groceries, Frankie had other ideas.

tags/warnings: explicit 18+, dirty talk, public sex, teasing, nickames (baby, princesita), Frankie has a filthy mouth, unprotected PinV, creampie (wrap it up, folks!), established relationship, soft! dom Frankie, a mirror, soft! Frankie, porn with a tiny sprinkle of plot, no physical description of reader apart from a pony tail, no use of y/n

notes: This only exists thanks to the post of @marshmallow--3 and their dream I found this morning. I hope this does your original idea justice :) <3 no beta reading, we die with the sinking ship

word count: 2k

After your ex left you you swore off love and men.

He made you feel unwanted, kicked your self worth with his feet and generally was an awful human being, but it didn’t stop you from crying.

Days turned into weeks where you were mourning something that only was perfect in your imagination because if you’d be real to yourself you knew you’re better off without him.

After the grief switched to rage you found yourself slowly enjoying going out again. Mingling with your friends in your standard bar like every Friday was when you spotted him. Tall, broad and a smile so contagious it created little butterflies in your stomach instantly.

You didn’t dare to go over to him and his equally attractive friends, so you observed for a while instead.

Some stolen glances and a Friday later, same time, same place, he finally came over and took a seat next to you at the bar. Asked what your drink of choice was, held eye contact the whole time, seemed genuinely interested in what you had to say and the warm feeling in your chest grew with every minute.

You quickly learned that his name was Frankie and you adored his name, repeating it in your head, tasting it on your own tongue and liked the taste more than you should after this short encounter with a man you just met. But something was different about Frankie and it made you both nervous and intrigued.

As weeks went on you enjoyed every single date with Frankie. He always showed up, kept his promises and never made you question your worth in any way. He worshiped the ground you walked on, wasn’t afraid to show public displays of affections, not when you were alone and also not when you were out with his or your friends.

Frankie effortlessly healed all the wounds your ex left and made you feel like floating.

It was too good to be true you told yourself, there had to be a catch.

But as weeks turned into months, him crashing at your place every chance he got, filling in the empty place in your heart and bed perfectly, it made you happier than you ever were before.

He made your heart skip a beat with his sweet nothings he never was afraid to whisper into your ear and he also never failed to make your panties wet just by his attentive nature. Frankie thrived in your pleasure, never grew tired of letting you know how much he adored every single inch of you, even the parts you were so insecure about like your soft belly and back rolls. But Frankie loved it all the same, covering every inch of your soft skin with kisses and tiny love bites which made you giggle every time.

He made you feel absolutely desired, something you so vainly missed in your prior relationship. This man made you feel like you could conquer the world as long as you were together.

Today, when the two of you are at the supermarket to grab some groceries for dinner you can’t help but tease him a bit. You’re wearing a strapless tank top without a bra because it is a particularly hot and humid summer day in Florida. All your clothes sticking to your skin, same as his but it isn’t gross. Actually the slight smell of his sweat turns you on incredibly much and in this heat he even has ditched his damn baseball cap for once, revealing his messy curls and a few of his unruly strands sticking to his temples and you withstand the urge to kiss and lick his sweat covered skin.

In the store you are at now, the AC is turned up all the way to max making your nipples almost painfully hard and mostly visible under the thin cotton fabric of your top.

You stand in the cereal aisle as you reach for the highest shelf, tip toeing while your tongue sticks out in exertion.

Just in this moment Frankie comes around the corner and freezes in his step as he sees you reaching up and your breasts on full display.

You don't notice him until there’s a low sound from next to you, almost a growl coming deep from his throat as he steps behind you and mumbles

“You need some help over there, baby?” as he presses his way bigger and hard frame against yours, making you feel his reaction to your little act against your backside.

You have to bite your lips to not moan out loud at the feeling.

He effortlessly reaches the cereal package and throws it into the basket you're holding before his calloused fingertips caress along your bare arms which are covered in goosebumps, definitely not only because of the icy AC air.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing? You want me to fuck you right here in the store or what was that lil’ act for?” he whispers against the shell of your ear and you shake your head, but you feel the heat pooling in your lower body immediately.

His goddamn filthy mouth.

“ ‘m sorry…” you purr and his hands find your hips, grabbing them tightly, pressing you even more against his hardened need and you mewl in response.

“Damn tease”, he whispers hoarsely before he turns you around and takes your hand,the basket you were holding dropping to the ground and walks with fast steps through the aisles towards the restroom.

Once you’ve reached the restroom you try not to think about the hygiene too much but you don’t have much time to wrap your head around it because Frankie’s lips crash into yours with such force your back slams against the door of the restroom.

He’s not breaking the kiss while he locks the door and hoists you up like you weigh nothing as you wrap your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck.

The kiss is so intense it leaves you breathless real quickly and you don’t remember him ever invading your mouth like this.

His kisses wander over your neck, to your collarbone, hot and open mouthed before he pulls down your top and latches onto your breast.

His tongue skillfully plays with the hardened bud before his teeth graze it gently which makes you whine desperately and the grip on the locks in the ape of his neck tightening.

He gives your other nipple the same attention, his tongue swirling around it as he braces himself up with one hand against the door.

His other hand wanders between your bodies as it snakes into your thin linen shorts and he grins against your neck triumphantly as he feels you're already soaking.

“Damn naughty girl, you like that don’t you ?” he purrs as he sucks at your neck and his hands explore your folds.

Drawing small, teasing circles before his two digits enter you and curl inside your walls coaxing a really needy moan out of you which he swallows as he kisses you again.

You’re mirroring his eagerness as you open his jeans shorts and pull them down just as much as needed to wrap your hand around his girthy length which makes him hiss instantly and it’s one of your absolute favorite sounds.

You pump him a few times, your hand already covered in precum as your thumb runs over his rosy tip before he bucks his hips more into your hand.

“Just as eager, hm?” you tease him as he gives you a throaty laugh in return before he removes his hand from your center and uses it to help him ease into you instead, pushing your airy shorts just to the side.

Your eyes find his as he does, making your cheeks burn hot but you don’t look away, neither does he, and it makes the moment so much more intense as he slowly pushes all the way in, burying himself up to the hilt and giving you a moment to adjust to him.

The familiar sting of him filling you up completely is the only pain you’re happy to endure before both hands palm your ass, squeezing it and he begins thrusting into you, gentle at first but he’s too pent up to hold back as the thrusts quickly get harder.

The obscene noise of him pumping into you fills the air and without warning he lets you down the ground and guides you in front of the milky mirror of the old restroom, bending you over the sink while he yanks your head back on your pony tail, his other hand guiding himself into you again and you moan loudly at the new angle he fucks you in.

“Look at you”, he commands, nudging his head towards the mirror.

“Look how fucking beautiful you look when I fuck you. Taking me so good, baby” he praises, his grip on your ponytail tightening and forcing you to look into the mirror and you whine helplessly.

His face is one grimace as he hisses again, this time paired with Spanish curses as he picks up the pace and it’s the fucking hottest thing you’ve ever witnessed as you hold onto the sink for dear life while watching him in the mirror.

“What would people think if they saw you like this, dirty girl? Your perfect tits on display for everyone to see?”

You wish you could answer but your mind is way too dazed to even be able to form any coherent words as the knot in your lower belly tightens.

“Frankie, please…” you whimper and it’s sounding way more pathetic than anticipated but you’re too high on pleasure to care.

“Please what, princesita ? Oh, you’re close aren’t you?” he purrs against your neck as he leans forward, his soft stomach pressed against your back as his hands palm your breasts, playing with your hardened nipples and it’s all you need to find your climax.

For a moment it feels like floating as your orgasm reaches you like a freight train and you cry out his name, definitely too loud for a public restroom like this.

“Fuck, baby, shhh” he shushes you, his voice thick with desire.

“Don’t want someone to catch us, do you?” He reminds you and you shake your head as his final last, brutal thrusts rock your world all over again and he finds his own release with a low moan into your ear.

“Fuuuuck….” he exhales breathlessly before kissing the spot behind your ear gently while he paints your inner walls with hot ropes of his cum, making you almost lose it again.

Really contradictory to his previous hard thrusts, you’ll definitely feel for a while, he covers your neck in soft feathery light kisses as you feel him soften inside of you.

After a moment he straightens back up, helping you to rearrange your own clothing to make you halfway presentable again while he grins mischievously, closing the zipper of his shorts. You take one last glance into the mirror, smirking yourself and shaking your head.

“That was definitely a premiere…” you retort and he smirks as he steps towards you again, his hands now on either side of your face.

“You okay?” he asks as he always does when he gets a little rougher with you.

“I’m perfectly fine, thank you” you answer and nuzzle his nose with your own.

“You think they already put away our groceries from the basket?” he chuckles, his forehead resting against yours before he kisses it gently and pulls away.

He steps towards the door, unlocking it and holds it open for you.

“I don’t know”, you answer as you step into the store again.

“But what I do know is that I’m fucking hungry now” you laugh and he chimes in with his warm laugh that makes his eyes crinkle, the one you love so much.

It’s moments like this you’re certain that Frankie is the best thing ever happening to you.

my masterlist in case you’re hungry for more :)

most recent work

#frankie morales #francisco morales #triple frontier #frankie catfish morales #fanfiction writer #berryfiction #frankie morales smut #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader #smut #pwp fics #oneshot

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bratdotcom · 5 months ago

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Confessions of an Insomniac

curly x coworker!reader ⋆ an au where you're his coworker, and he's head over heels for you

⋆ tags : slowburn, coworkers to lovers, jimmy is mentioned like 2 times but never shown

word count : 1k+ ( and proud!! ^^ ) ⋆

⋆ taglist : @likeadeadbattery

Curly never thought he'd find himself in such a compromising position. He took himself for being a professional man. Took pride in it, too.

He was the captain, after all - your captain. Worked with you long enough to know you on a first name basis. He never truly shook off the flush that appeared on his chest whenever he called you by your actual name. He preferred calling you by your title, Doctor (L/N). It was professional. It was propriety. It was what made sense to him.

In all his years of running the Tuplar, he's never felt this way about a coworker before. It made him feel sick with sweaty palms, unable to focus.

That would explain his frequent visits to your office. But you didn't need to know that.

Curly's senses were more hyper-aware than he usually was, more than he needed for his position on the ship as you check his heartbeat with your stethoscope. "Oh, change in pulse." You comment, chuckling to yourself as you scribble that information down.

You were close. So, so close.

Curly knew the procedure. Attentiveness was expected. The way your eyes softened on him wasn't. Checkups were the norm. The way your touch seemed to linger on him like static through the corridors wasn't. He fixes the neckline of his shirt after you pull away to keep himself distracted.

"Have you been working out recently?" You hold your clipboard in your hands. Curly found it hard to tell if you were asking that question casually or professionally. You were using your doctor's voice, but you were asking him something he'd hear you ask over lunch.

Curly straightens his posture at the question to appear more put together in front of you.

"Yes, I have." He replies, though the answer was obvious. His muscles almost jumped out of the fabric of his jumpsuit. He wonders if you asked that question just to hear him say it himself.

"Usually, I do warm-ups in the morning before starting my duties..." You listen to him and nod along as he rambles on about his workout routine, not minding the lax tone of his voice.

Knowing that Curly trusted you enough not to use his captain's voice on you had to be some form of an honor, right?

Both of your words held weight. Both of you had people who looked up to you. You were both similar, in a way. Curly had you and the crew. You had Anya and him.

Curly stops his little tangent when you pick up a different colored pen and scribble more doctor's jargon onto his sheet. "That's good." You respond, eyes focused on your clipboard.

"Good?" he echoes, his face, all the way up to his ears, goes red. Pink against his skin, but red nonetheless.

He was used to people praising his routine, but it felt different coming from you.

"Yes, despite our advancements in technology, we still experience muscle atrophy." You explain, using your doctor's voice. "What you're doing helps prevent the risk." You glance towards him. "You're aware of what that is, yes?”

Curly nods, silently hoping you wouldn't comment on his appearance. "Yes, I've read about it before." He says with a bit more confidence, his hands going from his knees to his thighs.

You chuckle as you speak. "Once we get back to Earth, you won't topple over like a Jenga tower.”

Still red in the face, Curly chuckles along.

"Maybe you should get Jimmy on your little workout regiment, too."

Curly knows he shouldn't laugh at the jab you just made at his second in command, but a little good-natured ribbing never hurt anybody, right? You were joking, weren't you?

“Don't tell him I said that."

You whisper, leaning in to add emphasis to your words.

He smiles, letting out a small chuckle of approval. He eases his tone, feeling less stuffy the longer you went on with your playful jabs at his best friend. "Don't worry, Doctor (L/N)." He reassures you, his hand on the table. "I promise you, I won't tell him a thing. It'll be our little secret." Curly adds an almost teasing tone in his voice.

He relishes in the reaction you gave him. The subtle flush of your cheeks told him everything he needed to know.

You didn't mind breaking the lines between camaraderie and fraternity.

Maybe you did, maybe you didn't.

Maybe Curly was just too deep in his head, too caught up in the version he had of you.

Blinded by your smile and the way you laughed at his jokes. Curly wonders if you feel the same way as him. Saw the same version of him that he had of you.

Curly watches as you work in pure concentration, your eyes glued to your clipboard, pen cap pressed to your chin. He takes in the sight, secretly glad that you were distracted. He had the chance to do nothing but stare, admire you as you worked.

You break your concentration to speak.

"You don't have to keep calling me doctor, you know. You have the bragging rights to call me Doc."

Curly smiles ruefully at your words. He should tamp his feelings down now, shouldn't he? He had to prove that he still had control. That he was the one in charge.

Mostly for himself, not you.

"I suppose you're right." He shrugs, trying to keep his tone neutral as he gazes away to focus his eyes elsewhere. "Bragging rights, huh?" Curly says softly to himself, still smiling.

Luckily, you don't hear the way he fondly repeats your words.

"Are we still up for our little date, captain?" The way you lean in to speak makes him want to look anywhere but you. The phrasing you used made him feel all warm in the chest again.

You were going to be his downfall. All the hard work, the excruciating hours he put into getting where he was now, was just one word away from going completely down the drain.

All because of you.

"You really shouldn't call it that." Curly rubs the back of his neck like a nervous teen. Awkward and clammy. At least now he wasn't as pink as a baby mouse. "Wouldn't want the rest of the crew getting the wrong idea, would we?"

You lean back and let out a laugh, sounding as though you didn't have a care in the world.

"Yeah, you're right. Doing nails isn't much of a date anyway."

Your words sting Curly, just a bit. There was a wordless form of intimacy behind doing someone's nails of someone you loved. Carefully holding the other person's hand in yours. Trusting them enough for your hold to go limp in theirs.

You even get the right to tell others that you had the privilege of having someone else do your nails.

Bragging rights, as you playfully put it. Perhaps he was looking into it too much.

Curly mirrors your movements, his eyes temporarily flick to your hands as you speak. You had nice hands, compared to his. He'd never voice his opinions to your face, of course. Never. It'd be unprofessional of him. More than he was already. He felt guilty, thinking of you in such a way.

The thought of being alone with you strangled all competence out of him. The smell of your shampoo clouded his senses. You, you, you.

All he could think of was you.

"Trust me, Jimmy's not gonna crucify you for wearing some clear coat, Curly."

Your breath mingles with his as you do his nails, his knees were starting to hurt from sitting on the carpeted floor of the conversation pit, but he wasn't complaining at all. He appreciated the level of care you put in as you held his hand. It was endearing.

Curly looks down at his hand, his head tilted at an angle.

"What is a clear coat?" he asks, genuinely wondering what exactly you were applying to his nails. He probably should've asked that before allowing you to do this.

The small grin that appears on your lips when you hear his question makes him completely forget that what you were doing together wasn't a date. That what you were doing was just a favor between coworkers.

With a flick of your hand, you reply. "A clear coat keeps it all shiny and neat. Feels nice, huh?" Curly nods to your question, careful not to move too much as you hold his hand in yours.

"Keeps your nails from chipping, too. Wouldn't we want that, would we, Captain?"

The way your eyes flit up to him almost makes him turn red. He could've sworn he heard a teasing tone in your voice.

"No, not at all, Doc." He replies, looking down at his nails. The changes were subtle. But you were right. It felt nice.

He pretends to admire the way his nails look in the artificial moonlight, when in reality he's looking at you.

"Better waste of time than staring at those pixels, right?"

Curly remembers your words from earlier. Your promise to do his nails as the rest of the crew slept. Two insomniacs against the unrelenting pull of space. Just you and him.

He wonders if your promise was just some flimsy excuse to get him alone with you.

"Right." He repeats, voice softening.

"Captain." You scoot closer to him, your knees touching his.

Your arm brushes against his, just like it did whenever you crossed paths in the halls.

"When this is all over... I wouldn't mind seeing you outside of work."

It takes him a moment to catch on to your words. His own words catch in his throat. The walls of the ship felt more suffocating than they usually did.

"I'd like that." He responds.

Carefully, as if you'd break in his hands, he slots his fingers in between yours. He tests your reaction by squeezing your hand. When you squeeze back, he smiles.

He leans in but doesn't kiss you.

"I'd like that a lot." He adds, his other hand going to your shoulder.

Again, Curly looks at you. Deep in thought as he takes in the way you looked at him. Lost in your eyes, he almost doesn't hear what you're saying.

You looked happy, as if a weight was finally lifted off of your chest.

His eyes widen when you lean in to kiss him.

He tenses up, not expecting you to do the first move. As quickly as you pull in, you pull away. Short and sweet. That's all he needed to know you felt the same.

You were red in the face, just like him.

His thumb brushes over your skin. Curly always tried to see the bigger picture.

He never thought you'd be a part of it, too.

#⋆₊˚⊹♡ like the fic? reblog and show your support in the tags!!#♡ : curly hearts club!! ♡#coworker!au #︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵♡︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵#captain curly x reader #captain curly x you #curly x reader #curly x you #mouthwashing x reader #mouthwashing x you #mouthwashing fanfic

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monimccoythings · 7 months ago

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How the other X-Men (97') would react to Logan's crush

I need more X-Men 97's Logan. Mostly Pre-established relationship. Just some rambles about some of the other X-men reacting to your mutual crushes because they are all a big family of busybodies lol.

tag: gender neutral reader (mostly)

You didn't have the best first meeting. You had accidentally drank the last of Logan's beers, and the burning anger in his eyes would take time to forget. You had felt so guilty afterwards that the next day he found a crate of imported beer in his bedroom.

When he first started developing a crush on you, Morph liked to tease him changing into you in different forms of suggestive positions wearing all kind of revealing lingerie, which made him blush. Hard. He tried to act all though pulling his claws out threateningly, but it was difficult to take him seriously when he was as red as a tomato.

He wasn't sure what started that crush, he guessed he started developing it without noticing. Maybe it was your good looks, your kind nature, your bright smile; who knew, but something about you drove him to you like a moth to a flame.

Ar first, Logan would be a bit conflicted due to his deeply rooted feelings for Jean. He felt like he was betraying her in some way, despite Jean being married to Scott. Unbeknowst to him, Jean, is one of the main supporters of his relationship with you and is always hijacking with Storm some way for you two to be together. Once, she got tired of your antics and practically psychically shoved you against him.

Storm is the chillest about it, unlike the overly enthusiastic Jean. She is very patient, she knows you'll end up together one way or another. She just has to wait. She still joins Jeans shenanigans because it's really fun.

Scott is more protective of you in a big brother way. He initially doesn't like that Logan has taken an interest in someone he had always seen as a little sibling. He knows how Logan can get, and how much he had pinned after Jean. He doesn't want him to hurt you, it would take a real genuine proof of his love for you to convince him. And something small wouldn't do, it has to be this big grand selfless gesture for him to actually believe it.

Charles, unlike Scott, thinks that you and Logan are a great match. You seem to bring the best out of each other. You calm Logan's never ending rage and Logan encourages you to be more bold and come out of your shell. You are like two puzzle pieces, you fit perfectly together.

Rogue is constantly teasing you about Logan. She has noticed how he gets more awkward when you're around, how he doesn't snark at you as much as he usually does to the others. If she didn't know better, she'd say he was being shy.

Remy is the one usually trying to give Logan advice on how to properly woo you, which usually goes ignored because of Logan's own pride and refusal to admit he has it deep for you.

Jubilee is a die-hard shipper. She gave you the most ridiculous ship name. Logan hates it. She, Storm, Remy, Rogue and Jean, usually meet up to discuss about you two like a bunch of teens. This is literally them on each meeting:

When you finally stop dancing around each other and start dating, he finds he's unable to keep his hands to himself. Watching you make breakfast, humming to yourself in an oversized T-Shirt and booty shorts that perfectly clinged to every delicious curve of your juicy ass like a second skin, put all of Logan's already thin self-control to test. Missions surveys get really awkward if he's seated next to you, his hand always finds its way to your thigh. Hank joked that he should give him 'the talk', which he took it as well as expected.

Roberto is the one who thinks 'what the hell do they see in him??'. He doesn't get how someone as cultured and kind as yourself would ever get interested in a caveman like Logan. But he keeps his thoughts to himself because he'd rather keep his head on his shoulders.

Logan may not know what started his crush, but he sure as hell knows when he realised he loved you. It wasn't a great sacrifice or something epic as anybody would expect. He just saw you doing the most mundane thing in the world, be it painting your nails, taking care of the garden, or getting to the best part of a book you've been reading. The second he saw that glint in your eyes and that joyful expression, he just knew.

#x men 97 x reader #x men x reader #logan howlett x reader #james logan howlett x reader #wolverine x reader

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absynthe-mind · 24 days ago

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Primarchs Playing Minecraft (with you)

This is so stupid but the brain worms demanded it. Almost did primarchs playing stardew valley but figured minecraft had a better variety to play with.

Taglist: @druidwolf21 , @incrediblethirst , @bookandyarndragonwritesdark

Lion El’Jonson - I

Doesn’t get the point at all but will play with you if you wear him down enough. Refuses to do anything frivolous, you’ll have a basic hut for a house - but you’ll have the basics down very well. Farm? Check. Ore? Check. Armour? Check. He treats the game as something to beat rather than enjoy playing, will refuse to play any further after beating the enderdragon. Which will be done as soon as he is adequately prepared.

Fulgrim - III

He dislikes playing survival with you unless it’s to show off his combat skills for you, mostly enjoys creative mode where he has ultimate control. Pixel art has been perfected to a science, using layers and command blocks to create things you never thought possible. Also creates towns and cities with you in a theme, and will even spend an unreasonable amount of time recreating his ship. Please compliment his builds, point out little details and agree with how life like everything looks - he needs it.

Perturabo - IV

Actually enjoys the game but refuses to admit it. He gets to focus on architecture and relax somewhat, there’s no real pressure, no expectations. The music is actually somewhat calming to him too so you might actually get to have some fun bonding time with him. You could convince him to play semi-regularly if you praise his building work, but he will throw a hissy fit and not play for ages if he dies at all.

Jaghatai Khan - V

He isn’t massively convinced to sit still in front of a screen until you tell him there’s horse taming in game. He’s logged in before you can blink and running around looking for a plains biome. Spends all his time breeding horses to get the fastest and highest jumps, and his sidequests include getting a hold of saddles, name tags, horse armour and building stables. He ends up liking the game in general and will actually play with you too… once he has his horsey.

Leman Russ - VI

He has very little patience for the finer mechanics, but like Khan you can lure him in with the wolf taming. Ends up with a small army of dogs that he dyes the collars his legion colours and uses them to kill witches. Would have stopped playing but a skeleton killed him and now he’s going to get vengeance. Ended up getting slightly addicted to pve and pvp - watch out, you aren’t safe.

Rogal Dorn - VII

His favourite thing is to fortify villages against pillager raids, making iron golem farms, snow golem turrets, the works. Somehow knows random obscure knowledge that helps you both out. He ends up getting way, way too into it, please nobody tell him about mods. You die once and he insists you stay in the base until he has a full set of enchanted netherite armour and tools for you, and even then he gets antsy if you do anything remotely dangerous like mining.

Konrad Curze - VIII

He’s very unsure what he’s supposed to be doing, ends up mostly just following you and you have to give him food and tools for him to survive. That’s until a villager gets in his way and he ends up accidentally agro-ing the iron golem, then it's war. Tries to fight it with his bare hands and fails, makes you hand over all your gear and then dies repeatedly before finally killing it. He makes a new one for the village afterwards - and when you ask why he did all that he just says “it should have known.” Predictably likes the bats.

Sanguinius - IX

Very supportive, just happy to be playing with you to be honest. We’re building a base? Great, what materials should I collect? Oh, you want to kill the enderdragon? Sure, what do we need to do? He’s very happy to sit and let you explain, and picks everything up quickly. You come back from a day in the mines and he’s gone collecting flowers for you to decorate with. Puts his minecraft bed next to yours kinda guy, you end up with a cute house filled with dogs, cats and parrots.

Ferrus Manus - X

Redstone? Redstone. Spends a day reading the code and then starts building the most elaborate farms you’ve ever seen. Iron Golems everywhere both want to be him and want him dead. Iron within, Iron without. You go to sleep and the next morning your little starter cottage has been transformed into a fortress that could withstand tb2t. He doesn’t care for your opinions on this at all.

Angron - XII

Getting this man to play minecraft is a miracle that would get you made into a saint if you weren’t already just for dealing with this man on a day to day basis. All he does is fight, doesn’t matter to him if he dies or what mob his opponent is, friendly, passive or aggressive. Actually doesn’t try to fight you, and gives you vague grunts of happiness if you give him food, armour or weapons.

Roboute Guilliman - XIII

You’d expect him to be the min-maxer, literally spreadsheeting out every resource, organising chests and planning out the whole server but surprisingly he’s the exact opposite. Taking any time away from his utterly hectic real-life schedule to play a game like minecraft with you is going to be a relaxing experience for him. Chill music, mostly just vibing in the overworld, barely mines at all. Surprisingly likes parkour since it's engaging but pretty mindless overall. Just enjoys talking to you while playing to be honest.

Mortarion - XIV

Likes exploring all the different biomes and seeing all the different mobs, especially the different bunnies and axolotls that spawn in different colours. He seems so happy just relaxing and exploring meaninglessly for once. Ends up roping you into helping him make a zoo, have fun transporting all those mobs across the world in boats and minecarts. You feel too bad not to help though, and you both end up having a fun time together.

Magnus the Red - XV

Unexpectedly a fishing enthusiast, likes the chance for rare and random loot, especially enchanted books. Also enjoys trying to find all the potion effects, refuses to look up recipes so he spends hours trying every ingredient in the game. He gets wayyyy too into the lore too. What’s up with the villagers? The ruined portals? He pesters you with questions you can’t answer and he goes a little insane trying to figure it all out. All in all at least he’s happy to explore every aspect of the game with you.

Horus Lupercal - XVI

Secretly thinks the game is a bit stupid, but he’s whipped for you and likes seeing you happy so he sucks it up and just helps you with whatever you’re doing. Give him armour and weapons first and he’ll be happy enough playing protector. In fact, give him a challenge and don’t wear armour so he has to actually work to be your protector and he won’t dislike it so much. Tries to use the game as a way to prove he can provide for you.

Lorgar Aurelian - XVII

Struggles a lot to get used to the controls, he ends up moving around very strangely because of it. Has a good time in spite of it, and thanks you profusely over and over again when you save him because he’s struggling. Ends up building a little temple once he gets the hang of it, is very happy with himself. He considers using the server to hold sermons since it removes the issue of in person meetings for his legion but ultimately decides against it.

Vulkan - XVIII

Very excited to spend time doing something you enjoy, and he loves going into the caves the most. Mining for ore, battling mobs, smelting and crafting - that’s his home turf! Thinks it's a great bonding game for everyone, will invite his sons to play with you too, and you end up with a full and friendly server where everyone helps each other out. Likes the nether a lot too, especially since the server gets so big that a nether highway needs to be built and it provides new, fiery challenges for him.

Corvus Corax - XIX

Get this man an elytra right NOW! Seriously though, he’s the biggest movement enjoyer, happiest with an elytra and plenty of rockets. Build him a little elytra course in the air and he’ll be a happy little crow. Comes back from his elytra adventures with parrots and little gifts for you that he finds in jungle temples and other structures. Thank him for them and he’ll bring back even more treasures for you.

Alpharius/Omegon - XX

Logs on to the server and you never see them again. Occasionally, the most obscure achievements will pop up in chat and you’ll double take at what they’re doing. You think you see one of them when you’re raiding a village for loot, but when you get closer no one is there… Sometimes random items that aren’t yours show up in your chests, but more often does your stuff go missing. Especially enderpearls.

Bonus: The Emperor

The OG gamer, he’s fossil aged and played before. MLG bucket clutches, ladder clutches, pvp god, has a seemingly endless supply of golden apples from somewhere. Wears golden armour because it looks cooler and he’s so good he doesn’t need anything better. Orders the custodes to log on and farm materials for him to use, though he lets you choose the build even if he designs it. Micro or mega-build, doesn’t matter what you settle on you end up with a masterpiece. (He dies once to a baby zombie, then nukes the chunk and mind-wipes the memory from everyone logged on)

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