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kalevalakryze · 11 days ago

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Fireside

AO3 Link: Here! For @wolfwrenweek Day 4: The Chariot | Thrawn's Star Destroyer [prompt: put her canine teeth in the side of my neck] Warnings: n/a Summary: Shifting so their head could rest on her shoulder, Sabine smirked at the way the cold beskar stung at their cheek and their face contorted in annoyance. “Take that off and maybe I’ll tell you.”

“Well that’s a poor excuse to get me out of my armor.” She laughed, then, she rotated just enough, reaching her arm out to tug the blonde until she shifted. The crook of her nose fit perfectly in the space between her pauldron and chest plate. Sabine felt the deep inhale as they settled, forehead resting snuggly in her shoulder, and her hand even going so far as to wind around the Mandalorian’s waist.

“You’re just built to be uncomfortable and annoying, aren’t you.”

Exile with Shin Hati turned out to be… Not as bad as Sabine thought it would have been. As the nights got colder and Baylan got closer, they would pack up and travel. Sabine learned a lot in those first few weeks- the first and foremost being that Shin drooled in their sleep, evident in how she’d had to scrub blood-stained spittle off her pauldrons once she’d finally gotten them free of the rocky canyon they’d been stuck in.

The second, and probably more important than the last- Even being in proximity to the blonde, Sabine was not free of the bond that suddenly connected them. Instead of freedom, she found her nights and days plagued by random flashes into the blonde’s eyes. Either looking at her own body as she built a fire, cleaned her armor, or packed up camp, or the haunting memories of Baylan’s betrayal, beyond him dismissing her as his padawan. Stone formations, marble coffins, locked doors, unnatural flames, and a ghastly voice in her ear.

Shin was more than a mystery to unravel, but at least she felt like she’d managed to unravel a few of those many layers.

The fire was roaring by the time Shin returned from their meditation, whatever snowflakes dared to enter their dome of peace and warmth were quickly melted by the raging inferno trapped in the small pit. Sabine’s howler rested his head on her knee, allowing the Mandalorian’s fingers to itch through the tufts of fur that had thickened for the weather. When the blonde dropped down next to her, Sabine nudged at their leg with her foot. “Sooo,” She drawled, hooking her heel to rest overtop of their shin.

Unbothered, Shin’s hand came to rest on Sabine’s knee. It was surprisingly domestic for both of them, the way Shin’s fingers tucked in between the smooth, chipped beskar of the armor and the material of her flight suit. She wasn’t sure when this had started, but found she was grateful.

Maybe it was their shared grief, or maybe Sabine was just fundamentally fucked up in the head, and Shin was starting to check off all of her boxes as they grew closer.

Shifting so their head could rest on her shoulder, Sabine smirked at the way the cold beskar stung at their cheek and their face contorted in annoyance. “Take that off and maybe I’ll tell you.”

“Well, that’s a poor excuse to get me out of my armor.” She laughed, then, she rotated just enough, reaching her arm out to tug the blonde until she shifted. The crook of her nose fit perfectly in the space between her pauldron and chest plate. Sabine felt the deep inhale as they settled, forehead resting snuggly in her shoulder, and her hand even going so far as to wind around the Mandalorian’s waist.

“You’re just built to be uncomfortable and annoying, aren’t you.” They grumbled, contradicting their own words when they shifted instead to press their nose into the side of her throat. Her heart stuttered at the way Shin’s breath fanned across her skin, which was freezing in comparison to everything about Shin in the moment.

“I dunno. Figured you liked things the hard way.” She shot back, unthinking as her fingers squeezed Shin’s shoulder. The huff of air against her throat brought a smile to her lips, at least she didn’t die, so… definitely a plus in her book.

The silence that fell was calm, with only the crackling of fire and the rare nightlife lighting up the world around them. At some point, Sabine’s howler got up and decided to graze, scouring the ground just at the edge of the fire’s light for bugs and small critters. The electric feeling came back only when Shin’s weight shifted, putting more of their weight against Sabine’s side.

She didn’t say anything, and so, the blonde inched closer bit by bit, until almost all of her weight was in Sabine’s lap. “Comfy?” She finally spoke, her voice no more than a mumble as Shin got comfortable.

“I think you just might be.” Sharp teeth brushed against the side of her throat, causing a shiver to shoot up her spine. Her hands moved to settle on their hips, thumbs brushing along the myriad of materials they’d used to patch their tunic and skirt. The press of lips to her pulse point was enough to make her squirm.

“Shin-” They pulled back almost immediately, and like a viper, Sabine’s hand shot out to stop them, coming to rest at the base of their throat as they leaned back in her lap. “I didn’t say go anywhere,” She felt her voice drop an octave, and took great satisfaction in watching blue-green eyes blow wide and dark, and the feeling of their throat moving under her palm as the other woman swallowed thickly.

This time, when Shin leaned back in, her teeth grazed against the column of her throat with intent. Sabine’s hand scaled along her back until she could tangle her digits in their hair, her other hand still holding on tight to their waist as both of their hands moved to a corner of her chest plate. “I’ve thought about doing this every moment since I first met you.” They admitted, though before Sabine could retort in either agreement or disdain, their canines were pressing into her throat. Her knees jerked beneath Shin’s weight as their tongue, warm and wet, lapped at the skin in reach. Sabine’s curses fell on deaf ears as Shin worked their mouth along every inch of her throat she could reach, leaving dark marks against her skin that could rival even the dark, faded color of her own hair.

“ Gotal’ade , fuck,” Sabine grumbled once they finally pulled back, her hand wrapping around their throat once more and her thumb pressed into their pulse point in a way that made them flush. Before her traitorous brain could ruin the moment, Sabine pulled Shin back in, wasting no time in pressing their lips together.

Their noses brushed against each other as both of Shin’s hands traveled to tangle in messy brown and purple waves. Sabine’s hand stayed pinned between them, feeling the way their pulse hammered when she licked their bottom lip. When Sabine’s tongue crossed the barrier of parted lips, she felt that now familiar tingle of their bond, felt arousal and desire and fire raging within, and when she licked into the blonde’s mouth, she felt that same fire roar at the choked whimper that stayed prisoner between them.

When Shin’s hands traveled low once again, and she felt their fingers inching below her chestplate, Sabine had to, annoying, pull back. “Fuck,” She panted, releasing their throat and hair in order to rest her hands against their wrists. “Shin, I’m sorry,” The blonde’s forehead rested against her own, cool eyes clouded by lust met warm gold in understanding. “Not here, but… Once we’re safe .’

“Will we ever really be safe?” They grumbled, even as their lips pressed into the corner of her brow. “That is not a nicety that has ever been afforded to us.”

“I’ll make it happen. I promised you once, I’m promising you again.” She squeezed their wrists once more before letting go, allowing the blonde to relax her head into her shoulder once more, and cursing every ounce of rational thought for keeping her pants on. She just had to be the responsible one these days- Ezra owed her, big time.

#wolfwrenweek #wolfwrenweek2024 #shin hati #sabine wren #star wars #wolfwren #sabine x shin #fanfics

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kalevalakryze · 12 days ago

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Cross the World for You

AO3 Link: Here! For @wolfwrenweek Day 3: "I can help you." Warnings: blood and injury Summary: Come alone. A simple enough request, though Sabine knew the danger hidden in those words. She’d never faired well alone with Shin. The scar on her abdomen tingled at the thought, she could feel her energy seeping through the old wound just as it had that evening on Lothal.

Come alone.

A simple enough request, though Sabine knew the danger hidden in those words. She’d never faired well alone with Shin. The scar on her abdomen tingled at the thought, she could feel her energy seeping through the old wound just as it had that evening on Lothal.

“What is it?” Ahsoka questioned, her facial markings furrowed as she studied her padawan’s spaced-out stare. When golden eyes met her own, she seemed to understand quickly. “You must face this on your own, then.” Silent, Sabine only nodded. Her lips parted as if she wanted to tell Ahsoka request be damned, though the Togruta interrupted. “Sometimes, we have to set aside our personal feelings in order to do what is right, Sabine. You know this better than most others I’ve ever known. However intense your rivalry, we cannot let Baylan sacrifice her for his beliefs. It’s wrong.”

Head hung, Sabine nodded. “Yeah.” She sighed dejectedly. “Okay.” Channeling everything from her time in the Rebellion, Sabine forced herself to stop looking through her feelings and to approach the situation tactfully. “Keep an eye out for Baylan. I’d prefer not to run into him while I’m getting them out of there. Once I have Shin, I’m going to get her to safety. I don’t want to take her straight to the Noti camp, especially if he’s chasing her like this.” Rubbing at her eyes, Sabine peered off to the skyline. “I’ll find a way to let you know where we end up. Once I’m sure Shin can be civil and not attack me, the Noti, or you, and we can find some way to conceal their position from Baylan, then I’ll bring her back.”

Ahsoka pondered the plan, nodding slowly as she watched it play out in her head. “Alright. I’ll follow your lead until we part, I’ll stay nearby only to drag Baylan’s attention. The rest is up to you.”

Alright, Shin. Tell me where I’m going.

Once she was far enough from Ahsoka, it didn’t take long. Some kind of inner compass seemed to come to life, either in herself or her howler, though she couldn’t be sure. After wandering through the snow for an hour, Sabine found a spot of discolored snow, red staining the fluffy substance in droplets, reaching deeper into a rocky crevice further ahead. Her stomach did backflips as her Howler came to a stop.

“Wait here,” she commanded, sliding from the saddle and grabbing her pack, all the while not taking her eyes off the trail that had been left for her. “If Baylan comes, retreat, but otherwise-” She finally looked away, grasping the Howler’s chin in her hand and meeting its gaze. “Don’t go anywhere. I need you to be brave.” The beast blew out a huff of air, its tongue hanging out lopsided from its mouth. The Mandalorian only had a moment to dodge its tongue as it tried to kiss her goodbye. “I’ll be back.” With that, Sabine treaded forward.

The rocky terrain was hard to navigate, climbing up and down, using footholds to find higher ground, only to scramble back down once uneven stones threatened to slip from under her feet. She was sure she got turned around more than once in the mad scrabble to find Shin, though the blood painted on almost every surface steered her in the right direction, until eventually, the droplets looked wetter and felt warmer when she reached them. She was close.

Trepidation filled her lungs as she found a small cave nestled far in the back. She couldn’t feel Shin the same as when the blonde was in her head, or vice versa, but she could feel something almost… electric charging the air the closer she got.

All of a sudden, Shin was there. Her weight was supported by a damp cave wall almost entirely, blood seeped through at least half of their tunic, while mud caked the once shining silver of the armor on their hips and shoulders. Her vambraces were gone, and the sleeves of her shirt had been torn away; though by beast or bramble, Sabine could not say. “Gotal’ade, you look like a fucking wreck.”

Shin huffed out something unintelligible. Sabine had to bite back the laugh that threatened to bubble past her lips. “Alright. Give me your lightsaber-” She eyed the weapon, scuffed and filthy, where it rested on their hip. “And we can get out of here.”

“I will not disarm for you or anyone like you.” Shin spat some fire, life, returning to their eyes as they blocked the weapon from sight with their forearm.

“I trusted you enough to come alone, after everything you’ve done,” Sabine mirrored the blonde’s movement, though her arm pressed higher above her hip, pressing against the scar against her abdomen that throbbed in a near-constant reminder. “You have to trust me now. Trust me, that I’m going to do what’s right.” She extended her hand now, offering more than just support to their wavering stability.

Like a wounded animal, tired eyes jumped, first to Sabine’s hand, then to her blasters and saber, then to meet her gaze. That electrical feeling tugged again, something deep in her bones. “I still hate you, you know. But I won’t let you face this, not alone.”

“Good.” Shin rasped. Finally, finally, the blonde reached out. Sabine tried not to notice how perfectly their hand fit within her own. She barely had time to, in fact, as the blonde seemed to dive into the opportunity, to allow someone else to shoulder the burdens of the weight they’d been carrying.

Sabine took the weight with grace, arms circling around the blonde’s waist and tugging her close until they weren’t at risk of hitting the ground. “Pain in my ass.” She grumbled as their chin dropped into her shoulder.

With the threat of Baylan looming ever closer, Sabine was faced with the task of maneuvering a passed-out Dark-Sider and the mile of Peridea’s entire jagged boulder supply. “This is where the fun begins.”

Mando'a Translation Gotal'ade - Makers

#wolfwrenweek #wolfwrenweek2024 #day 3 #wolfwren #sabine wren #shin hati #ahsoka #star wars #fanfiction

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kalevalakryze · 13 days ago

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Dreams Of Madness

AO3 Link: Here! For @wolfwrenweek Day 2: Force Bond Warnings: Attempted Murder, Nightmares Summary: “What did you see?” Ahsoka didn’t look at her, merely guided the way to the path they would take for their morning meditation sessions, allowing the Mandalorian to scramble after her. When Ahsoka stopped walking, Sabine nearly slammed straight into her back, stopped only when the older Force-Sensitive turned to place a hand on her shoulder. “It’s Shin.” She panted, reaching to pinch the bridge of her nose. “Baylan is after her, and I think-” She could feel the crustiness of sleep under her fingernails as she rubbed at her eyes. “I think he’s trying to kill them, and that it’ll unlock something to do with somebody’s mother.”

Like most life-altering events for Force users, it started as a dream. Her exhaustion ran bone deep as she worked tirelessly at Ahsoka's side. Baylan was still on the planet, and the Togruta was working tirelessly to find him. She had no idea who the ‘Brother, Father, and Sister’ she would mention were, but was promised time and time again that all would be revealed in time. Trust in the Force.

But she was trying! As hard as she could, every single day. Huyang was growing impatient with her as she failed each grueling question or missed the mark during saber training. She used the Force already, so why was it being so kriffing temperamental?

She’d finally stormed off from the ancient robot, cursing his power cells as she did, stomping the entire way to the temporarily decommissioned T-6, tarps and cloths draped from the wings to create some semblance of privacy and protection from the harsh dust storms that ravaged the planet.

Sleep had found her easy, though her rest was anything but. The moment her eyes shut, she was running. An orange fire burned from the hilt in her hand, a blade carefully crafted—fractured by Master and Apprentice, just like their bond. Each breath was ragged and rough; it felt as if blood was flooding in every breath. “Shin!” a booming voice called. Sabine felt fear spark up her spine—fear that was not her own.

She tripped- the hand that caught her weight against the ground was not her own, the saber that burned into the dirt was one she’d only ever seen wielded by her enemy. “We must be willing to make sacrifices for the greater good. You have always known this.” His voice was close, too close. Her muscles screamed as she twisted, raising her blade just in time to catch the staggering blow as Baylan brought his saber down against her own.

This was not her Master. The only thought Sabine could agree with as she seemed to watch on. This man had been twisted, and corrupted by Abeloth and the false promises offered to him.

Get out of there! Sabine found herself shouting, willing the body that was not hers to just run. The body complied, legs pumping to create distance between herself and the man in her Master’s body.

When Sabine awoke, sweat-drenched her brow, her flight suit clung to every crevice of skin it could reach, with armor digging painfully into soft flesh to boot. She felt eyes on her- another flash of fear as she scrambled for her lightsaber, illuminating the night with a fluorescent pink light.

Ahsoka’s eyes seemed to twinkle in the night, the otherworldly glow that they had at night dimmed in the light of Sabine’s saber. “Let’s talk.” Was all the Togruta said, motioning her head to the split in the tarps. Sabine scrambled to follow, still uncoordinated- her muscles burned, and she could feel her heart thundering in her eardrums.

“Ahsoka, I—” she started, wiping her sweaty palms against her pants. Her sweat-slick skin immediately felt the harsh cold of the night as it soaked into the fiber of her being. Her legs ached as if somehow, she was still running from a monster.

“What did you see?” Ahsoka didn’t look at her, merely guided the way to the path they would take for their morning meditation sessions, allowing the Mandalorian to scramble after her. When Ahsoka stopped walking, Sabine nearly slammed straight into her back, stopped only when the older Force-Sensitive turned to place a hand on her shoulder.

“It’s Shin.” She panted, reaching to pinch the bridge of her nose. “Baylan is after her, and I think-” She could feel the crustiness of sleep under her fingernails as she rubbed at her eyes. “I think he’s trying to kill them, and that it’ll unlock something to do with somebody’s mother.”

Ahsoka did not respond, turning her gaze upwards as a familiar figure floated on the wind high above. “I see.” She whistled a tune, loud and high into the silence of the night. “If he believes that they are the key, then we have to protect them.”

Sabine scoffed, feeling the familiar boiling of anger starting in her chest. “Seriously? You think Shin would let us protect her? After everything?” She recognized the sound of pawpads on the ground, two sets, laden down with gear. Ahsoka’s been planning this- or something like it, at the very least, for a while now.

“She let you see that she was in danger.” Ahsoka answered matter-of-factly, brushing her hand down her Howler’s snout as she approached. “We can’t make them come with us, but if they’re taking this step with you, then there has to be hope, somewhere.”

Dejected, Sabine nodded, admitting defeat by burying her face into the side of her Howler’s neck as he trotted up to her. “Whatever, let’s go save them from the consequences of their actions.”

Every time her eyes would drift shut, Sabine would see them. It was through these ‘nightmares’ as she’d taken to calling them, that she was able to find clues about their destination, though each time they got too close, the trail would go cold, and they found themselves back at square one, chasing Shin and Baylan all across Peridea, having all but abandoned

Three giant statues stood tall on a cliff face. Sabine felt the chill of winter settling into her bones as her poncho whipped wildly in the wind. The snowfall was no gentler as it fell to the earth in blankets. “It’s been weeks, Ahsoka.” Sabine called over the rising snowstorm. They’d all but abandoned Huyang and the Noti, and while they both knew that this would be an excursion, she knew Ahsoka hadn’t brought enough supplies for this to continue.

Her spine tingled. Danger. It wasn’t too unlike what she’d felt in her nightmares, except now it was the aura of fear watching through her own eyes. She wasn’t alone in her mind. Shin?

Stop looking for me. It was just her own thoughts, but she could hear their voice plain as day, accented and exhausted.

Just stop running. I can help you. Her fingers fisted into the warm fur of the Howler below her, trying to ignore the feeling of Ahsoka’s eyes on her. Forget Ahsoka right now. I can help you.

There was a pause in their communication, a moment that allowed the Mandalorian to breathe, the moment that could have shattered everything they’d built over the weeks of loth-cat and loth-rat.

Come alone.

#wolfwren #wolfwrenweek2024 #wolfwrenweek #shin hati #sabine wren #shin x sabine #forgive me baylan for i have sinned against you once again #ily tho #fanfiction

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kalevalakryze · 14 days ago

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Erosive Humanity

For @wolfwrenweek Word Count: 1,311 Warnings: Blood mention Summary: “You’ll blow them up, then? How fun.” Shin drawled, heels pressing into the boulder upon which they sat. Their elbows rested on the tops of the armor on her thighs, chin resting in the palm of her empty hands. Sabine could see the whirlwind behind grey eyes, no matter how inactive the dark sider appeared. “What?” She hissed as she scrambled to stand, sidestepping a blast from a laser as she felt the wild shot from her pursuers steer far too close. “Sorry, Might not have heard you right- what?”

Sabine was running, her boots kicking up dirt and debris as she skidded across Peridea’s barren landscape. All she had to do was make it to her cache, blow the nomad gang sky-high, and use the following chaos to get back to the rendezvous. Easy, simple, a first-timer could do it with no problem, so she’d be fine!

The beskar of her knee plate scraped against stone as she slid into the small alcove, practiced fingers making quick work of the light camouflage that hid the burrowed-out hole from view. The bombs were crude, lacking the wide array of colors that she had once prided herself on, though they did more than splatter paint in a stormtrooper visor, the results would more than make up for the drab greyness of their shells.

“Well, that looks interesting.” A voice called from her right, it sounded bored, of all things, and as Sabine spun around with the explosives grasped in her hand, her other shot towards the new saber that sat at her hip. “You’ll blow them up, then? How fun.” Shin drawled, heels pressing into the boulder upon which they sat. Their elbows rested on the tops of the armor on her thighs, chin resting in the palm of her empty hands. Sabine could see the whirlwind behind grey eyes, no matter how inactive the dark sider appeared.

“What?” She hissed as she scrambled to stand, sidestepping a blast from a laser as she felt the wild shot from her pursuers steer far too close. “Sorry, Might not have heard you right- what?” She followed, brows furrowing as she watched the blonde, waiting for something that could explain the sacrifice of her only allies.

“I know your history, Wren. And my scouts have reported on the… surprise you’ve been cooking up.” They shrugged as they moved to stand from the boulder at last, sliding off the jagged surface and reaching only to adjust the tattered cloth that hung around their shoulders. “Do it. Blow them up. I want to see how the shrapnel will pierce their skin.”

Her fingers tightened against the volatile weapons. “Your scouts? How long have you been watching us?!” She snarled. “I’ve got half a mind to blow you up!”

“Only half?” Their eyes flashed with something akin to predatory. “I’m not stopping you, am I?” Their arms stretched out, Sabine’s eyes immediately flashing to the slivers of metal hidden inside their vambraces, blades that she could no longer wield with her hands bare. “Do it. It’s us or them, so to speak, yes?”

Sabine growled, frustration bubbling as she looked between her weaponless opponent and the quickly approaching gang. “Fuck you.” She snapped before pulling the pin.

She did not stay to watch the way the shrapnel cut through the nomad's armor as if it were nothing, and she did not dare to look at the exhilarated look in Shin’s eyes as they watched the show. In the ensuing chaos, she ran, refusing to look back even when the heavy weight of eyes settled against her back.

The next time Sabine ran into Shin, the Mandalorian had been fighting with the irrigation pipes in their small, desolate garden, barely held together with the rainfall that fell once every several cycles.

“Damn you, get over here!” Sabine hissed as she stretched herself, trying to reach a roll of thermoplastic that would allow her to bond the two pipes together without having to hold them together. Water squeezed out from her clenched fist, moistening dirt too far away from the crops that so desperately needed the stored moisture. “Come on you kriffing-”

“I don’t understand why you’re trying so hard to reach it.” A voice intoned, startling Sabine enough to have her momentarily lose her grip entirely on the pipes.

“What the fuck-”

“You have the Force, don’t you? Or was it just a one-time trick? Can’t summon up anything special in yourself to prove you’re worth using it for again?” They taunted, knowing Sabine wouldn’t move from her kneeling position in the dirt, lest the vegetation die of dehydration.

“Look, you dirty fucking womp-rat,” Sabine growled, glaring up at the blonde as she gave up on reaching for the tape, instead wrapping her other hand tight around the pipe to stabilize. “I don’t know what you’re getting out of popping out of kriffing nowhere. But I’m getting sick of it!” She hissed, growing frustrated as water squeezed between her fingers and fell uselessly to the ground.

“Sick enough of it to fix your problems and make me stop?” Shin moved towards the tape, though instead of being useful for half a second of their entire existence, the blonde merely kicked it further away.

The Mandalorian took a moment, breathed in slowly as Ahsoka had coached her, and then lifted one pruning hand from the pipe. Shin watched with rapt attention, waiting for the tell-tale tingle of a novice force user reaching out too far, though they were quickly disappointed when, instead of extending her hand outward, the purple-haired woman merely flipped her the bird, then went back to her task.

The tides shifted during a ‘normal’ raid against the Noti people. Maybe Shin’s pestering had finally caught up to her, maybe she just caught Sabine on a bad day, or maybe, Sabine was finally beginning to see the wisdom in Shin’s words- how free she could be if she just allowed herself to cut the tethers.

Shin could not pinpoint the exact moment it happened, all they knew was one moment, Sabine was warding off her Nomads from a Noti crawler. And the next? She was on the run, golden eyes holding a dangerous gleam in them that had her heart thundering, and a familiar twisting forming in her stomach.

By the time Sabine caught her, they were both out of breath. Sabine’s bodyweight slammed into Shin, hard, kicking up a plume of dust and dirt all around them as they grappled. Shin half-heartedly wriggled in Sabine’s hold, though she found every tool at her disposal to be in vain. The strength Sabine used as her knees dug into her hips and nails punctured into her shoulders seemed almost unnatural.

A smile split Shin’s face. “So you’ve finally come to terms with the truth?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Sabine growled. Before Shin could retort with a quirky ‘make me’, the Mandalorian’s elbow came crashing down into their face. Laughter bubbled past her lips as blood welled to the split surface. “Why are you laughing?” The Mandalorian snarled in the face of scrutiny, eyes dark as she reached for the blonde’s chin, forcing their mouth shut and keeping it there.

“You wanted this.” Realization hit her, though she could feel her anger dissipate, either into the force or into her flipping stomach. Golden eyes followed the trail of blood where it made a trail down Shin’s chin, along the column of her throat, and under the layers of material sitting at their collarbones.

Shin watched every twitch of Sabine’s gaze, her smile only widening at the flicker of frustration once she could no longer watch the path. “You’re learning fast, Wren.” She wrenched her jaw from the older woman’s grasp, then, as Sabine’s strength faltered, the dark-sider surged upwards.

Anticipating her movement, Sabine’s hand came to rest at the base of their throat, lips already wet from the blood in Shin’s mouth, Sabine found that she didn’t mind the taste of iron flooding her senses, or the way sharp teeth nipped at her lips, and an invading tongue pushed past.

All too quickly, it was gone. “Get out of here.” Sabine spat, allowing red spittle to stain their clothes as she shoved herself off of them. “If I see you again, I will kill you.” Wren didn’t spare her a second glance. Shin found she appreciated that nicety, at least.

#wolfwren week #wolfwrenweek2024 #sabine wren #shin hati #sabine x shin #wolfwren #star wars ahsoka #star wars #star wars wlw #blood tw #fanfics

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kalevalakryze · 21 days ago

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ANNOUNCING: SATINE KRYZE WEEK

You are formally invited to a party that will have the whole galaxy talking! Join us in celebrating the Duchess of Mandalore in a week long event that will showcase Mandalorian art, writing, and fashion ✨

Satine Kryze Week will be hosted from January 27-31 2025, and we can't wait to see you there! A sneak peak of what's to come can be found in our Rules and About, but a full prompt reveal will be arriving on the holonet soon...

@swfandomevents @thebigbangblogproject @starwarsfemslashblog @sapphicstarwars @fandomweeks

#satine kryze #the clone wars #mandalorian #duchess satine #satine kryze week

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kalevalakryze · 24 days ago

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TRICK OR TREAT BITCH

#LOSER #ILY #i'm so sorry i worked soo late yesterday #i missed the spooky season

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kalevalakryze · 26 days ago

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this is a bad thing to ask a dragon with a god complex hoarding their stash.

No pressure tags: @wanderingjedi77 @femmefighter @mandalorianfleshenjoyer

Thanks for the tag @tar-thelien

Feel free to join in:

@melancholysage @mystrothedefender @flora-friend @mechanoelle

#tag game

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kalevalakryze · 1 month ago

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KOFI EVENT!

hello! This month has been a little rough so I’m starting this kofi event earlier. Originally this was gonna be to buy a PS5 but now I just need to get by tbh dhdhhshshs hopefully I still can buy a ps5

ANYWAYS! rules!

Half body

Two characters max

Painted sketch

As always the request are made by kofi with a $20 donations. Pls leave a way to tag you when it’s completed in the same message

Ex of the result

Now the no no:

Ethan Ramsey

NSFW

Meka

Complicated armor

Incest

Furry

And that’s all!

The event will be up from today til the last day of November! Thank you all so much in advance

The request from the last kofi event are still coming out. I will announced when I do the last one so if I haven’t done yours by then pls let me know! Maybe it slipped through the cracks

#signal boost

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kalevalakryze · 1 month ago

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PSA for fanfic writers

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kalevalakryze · 1 month ago

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Love In Misty Shadows

Blue hair and olive skin filled her vision once she opened her eyes. “Morning, sleepyehad.” A melodic voice called, a smile gracing full, red lips as the strange woman crowded her vision. “I swore that you were dead when you washed up.” Rage coursed through Aylin’s veins, with shame and disappointment following closer after. She’d thought… but Iosbel…? Washed up here? Her lips parted to speak, but she was quickly cut off. “Did you know you talk in your sleep? Who is Isobel?”

“She’s…” Cobwebs hung thick in her vocal cords. The Aasimar raised her hand, pressing the tips of her fingers against the golden seam that ran up the column of her throat. “She’s my beloved…” Dark eyes seemed to come alight with excitement. Read on AO3: Here!

The last thing she remembered had been Bathazar’s nails digging into her back, the ironclad press of ghastly mage hands restraining her as blades sawed her wings from her spine. It had been excruciating, beyond any physical pain that had been bestowed upon her since her capture.

When consciousness came to greet her, the pain was gone- all of it, all but the gaping, aching hole in her chest that sat festering since Isobel’s death, reminding her that she was alive where her beloved was not. Aylin tried to orient herself before moving- she could hear waves lapping at the shore, trying vainly to lull her traitorous body to sleep again. Her skin was warmed by Pelor’s grace. The alarm bells were going off now, even as the serenity of the moment settled deep in her bones.

A small hand pressed against the center of her bare chest. “Isobel..?” She murmured, voice thick with sleep as she finally cracked her eyes open, hopeful that the last century had been no more than a mortal nightmare, a terror placed by the memory of Shar’s followers, or a sickness from Illmater himself.

Those red lips pursed smoothly as she rose to her feet, pulling Aylin with her. The Paladin stumbled as she looked down upon the strange woman. The woman’s hands were small in her own, though the strength in which she held Aylin to her was otherworldly.

A sharp pain started in her eye, leaving the daughter of Selûne to drag her hand away, scrubbing at her right eye as if she’d had the vulnerable organ gouged. When her hand came away silver, she turned her gaze accusatorily to the stranger. “Never mind that, darling. I’ve got all you could ever need, anything you could ever want for.” That same small, pale hand reached towards her face, the pain ebbing away with the touch of calloused fingers to her skin.

She was struggling to remember. Why would her eye be bleeding..? Where was she before here? She could have sworn… Ketheric, the Shadowfell, Balthazar. “It’s just you and I here, my love,” The woman cooed, trailing her fingers down the sharp slope of Aylin’s jawline.

Hungry eyes roamed over her skin, alerting Aylin to the bareness of her body. She never was one to hide, though the woman’s eyes looking over her like a meal made her wish for her armor, or even the rags she knew herself to have donned in Ketheric’s prison. “I’m not your love.” She declared, stepping back to free her hand from the other’s grasp at last.

The laughter that bubbled in her throat was dangerous, and Aylin could feel the way her hands clenched, muscles flexing as if she could draw her sword from the depths of whatever hell she’d landed herself in. “I’m what you need, my dear.” She took a step, then another. With every step Aylin took backward, this woman followed. “I’m what you want, deep down.” When Aylin’s back pressed against the scraggly siding of a cliff, with jagged stone formations pressing deep into golden scarred skin, she could feel where her wings had once sat. She focused on that pain, promising that whatever this was, it was not real. “You’re mine, from now until the end of time,” The woman spoke with venom dripping behind every word, her hands coming to rest around Aylin’s hips even as the Paladin reared up, danger igniting every muscle as she pushed back.

“Hell no.” She shoved hard, making the woman stumble backwards. “I could kill you where you stand.” The flicker of fear in dark eyes set her at ease. She had some control, some power, a feeling she hadn’t felt since Isobel had gotten sick and her life had spiraled out of even her mother’s control. “I am not your pet or your plaything. I am spoken for beyond the mortal and celestial planes, and the reaches of any mortal or god that has ever, or will ever exist. My love for Isobel will never fal-”

She was broken from her tirade by a shimmer of magic surrounding the woman. “Oh, handsome.” She purred. Aylin felt herself recoil without consent. “You may try your hardest to kill me, but last I checked, goddesses can’t die.”

“Goddess?” Aylin breathed, voice catching on a lump in her throat.

“You’re adorable.” Aylin felt petulance rising in her as she watched the woman’s face swim in and out of focus as if a mist was concealing something deeper around them. “Bow down now to the immortal Leira,” She spoke with authority and unearned bravado, yet Aylin felt her limbs turn to jelly beneath her, knees sinking into the grains of sand below her as Leria stepped closer still, petting her hand down the Aasimar’s blonde head.

“Fear not,” She spoke, even as her fingers wound in Aylin’s hair, getting a strong enough grip to guide the daughter of Selûne’s chin up to face her once more. “I bring no pain. They cannot hurt you while you’re under my protection.”

“I don’t want this.” Aylin demanded, though her voice felt weak as she struggled to move. If she focused beyond the magic, she could feel the way the mage hands pinned her down, the way an arrow had pierced an eye that was not her own, but she’d taken the pain all herself. Wherever her moral body truly was, it was dying time and time again, and she could do nothing about it. Was this meant to save her from that pain? To make her a coward who hides from the spears and swords as they cut her down thousands of times in all of a moment in this strange land?

“Under my spell, we’re stuck in paradise. No one can come or go, my island remains unknown.” When she helped Aylin to her feet again, the Paladin recoiled, trying to avoid allowing her weight to settle, even as Leira’s arm wrapped around her waist to keep her upright.

“I don’t belong here.” She croaked, though her legs stumbled blindly along as Leira guided the way towards a hut built among the fabricated hills. “There must be something wrong.” In another life, a spear pierced her ribs, and a Dark Justiceir was born anew. She hadn’t the chance to sway them from maiming a defenseless warrior.

“You’re mine, dear.” Was her only consolation as she was led into the warmth of a home that was never real.

The moon hung high over Leira’s prison. Aylin had learned a long time ago that it was not a spectre of her mother’s might, but a trick from the Goddess of Illusion herself. Her bare feet pressed into the stone as she approached the cliff, a soft blanket hanging from her shoulders, warm and still, even as invisible blades opened all too real wounds across her body, spiling silver and leaving gold in their wake, day in, and day out. “Mother.” She croaked, praying in vain for freedom from this hell.

Warmth tingled down the Paladin’s spine the way it would have when Selûne would visit her daughter in the mortal realm, to skirt a hand reassuringly along her back in comfort during her hardest missions. “Please.” Her head hung low, her Other form gurgled as a blade punctured her lungs. “I cannot- I cannot continue like this.” And Moonmaiden forgive her, the way the edge of the cliff looked so tempting, the lightness at her back, knowing her wings would not, could not return to her, were she to go toppling over the side.

Would she die? Would dying in this illusion free her from Leira’s grasp and the Shadowfell at last? Is that even what she wanted? What would Isobel think, knowing her Paladin’s thoughts had been tainted so horribly?

“Aylin…?”

“All I hear is screams.” Her voice wavered as a sob tried to sneak past her lips.

“ Aylin get away from the ledge!” Leira called, the soft soles of her sandals padding against the false earth. She stopped just a few paces away, as if afraid getting closer would provoke the Aasimar into taking the plunge.

The Paladin turned, hatred and bile rising in her throat as her hands pulled into fists. “You don’t know what I’ve gone through! You don’t know what they’re doing to me, what they did to her!” Tears prickled at the corners of her eyes, yet she refused to cry, not for the man Ketheric had been, and not for her own fate. She was stronger than this, she was the sword of the Moon Maiden, and gods be damned if she didn’t get a chance to die a warrior’s death.

“It will be fine, dear,” Leira was holding her hands out, trying to persuade the woman into rejoining her away from the ledge. “Come back inside, dear. Love of my life, come back to our paradise.”

The first teardrop fell, dropping into a scarred groove along her cheek and racing into the columns along her throat. More followed as she dropped to her knees, exhaustion turning her body to stone, unable to find it in her to stay standing. “Just let me close my eyes.” She begged, digging her fingers into the dirt.

At last, Leira approached, and for the first time, the hands that touched her shoulders were not seeking to take what she was unwilling to give, not looking for the defilement of a gift only given to her beloved, but to offer comfort, as misguided as it could have been. Pain shot through her body like electricity, and something heavy like poison sat in her lungs.

“I know that your life has been hard. I’ll stay inside your heart, let me carry it for us both,” She tried to reason, though Aylin felt inconsolable. The screams from her other form were too loud, she couldn’t drown them out. Each breath came too fast, burning her lungs as if the poison could break through Leira’s magic and damage her here. “Life would be so much worse if I allowed you to die. Love of my life, I beg you to allow me to keep you safe here, just stay in my open arms.”

She remembered Isobel, at that moment. Something dark and sinister drowned out by a life so bright, a light that had been extinguished by a father’s greed. Isobel was a devout follower of Selûne, hells, Aylin was devout since the day she’d learned of the war between light and dark, and what had it earned them? Isobel was dead far too soon, and Aylin had died more times than she could count in each dream, had found countless new scars amongst her body, gold that Isobel had once traced was replaced instead by the toxic memories that haunted her.

“Selûne!” She roared, her voice cutting through the false sky, All her muscles were taut, her body on fire as she hucked a fistful of stone off the ledge.

“She needs my help.”

“Lay your hands on me in friendship, not-quite-Sharran, and I will fight the battle that has been waiting for me this last century. Then, oh then… We have much to discuss.”

She did not know how she’d been freed from Leira’s prison, only that she’d woken in her other form, back in the Shadowfell to the glorious sight of strangers ripping Balthazar’s life from his bones, the fulfillment of her dreams to shuck his corpse off the side, into the swirling abyss of the Nightsinger’s emptiness.

She’d found freedom and friendship in those strangers, but more than that as well. Her wings had returned, fulfilling a century-long ache as her Holy armor found it’s home against her body. Her wings stretched, feeling as if they’d only been disapparated long enough to get a small cramp.

The thrill of battle had been nothing short of resolution in her mind. Stomping Ketheric’s skull to nothingness had been a prayer, and when all was said and done, as the Harpers and the strange group converged in a throne room that had once been a respite, Aylin’s prayers were answered in a way she never thought possible.

“Aylin?!”

The warrior turned, feeling her blood both freeze and burn as she caught sight of her beloved. Even after all these years, her memory hadn’t allowed her to lose a single detail of the Cleric’s face. “Isobel…” Emotion flooded into her voice, and her eyes, still glowing from divine power tunneled, no one else mattered but the woman before her.

She’d thrown her helmet aside, though it did not clatter, like her wings, they merely ceased to exist in the mortal realm, flickering away with a flash of moonlight as her feet began moving down the old carpet. It was too much, it wasn’t enough.

The Paladin fell to her knees, lips parting as she stared before her, fighting the turmoil of just another illusion. She wanted to reach out, to sweep Isobel into her arms, to know that she was real and yet, even as her hands reached out, she could not bring herself to touch the Cleric first. “My love,” Her eyes watered. This couldn’t be a game, even Shar could never do something so cruel to her, right..?

“You were dead..” Isobel didn’t speak, but Aylin could see the tears building in diamond-blue eyes. Aylin nearly recoiled when small hands took one of her own. “I… I saw your body.”

Two fingers pressed against her chin, raising her head to look at Isobel. The Paladin’s eyes slid shut. She didn’t want to chance an elaborate hallucination, did not want to risk breaking the fragile complacency she’d already built after a century of pain. “I’m here.” Iosbel’s voice rang deep in her ears, penetrating her skin and easing her shaking lungs. “A..And so are you.” The cleric’s voice shook with grief as Aylin reached for the hand at her chin.

With Isobel’s help, she finally opened her eyes, rising to her full height and allowing herself to touch at last. “And my father… He… He can’t hurt us any longer.” Aylin felt her grief, though she could not feel the same, not for the man whose deaths she’d taken over and over again. She preferred to remember him as smooshed brains and a shattered skull, though she knew not to share that much, not when the grief in her beloved was so raw.

When Isobel’s arms wrapped around her neck and gloved fingers curled into the slits of her armor where her wings would sit, Aylin knew it was no mere hallucination. The woman in her arms was as real as anything around them. Tears streaked down their faces, though neither said a thing about it. She was home at last, the press of another’s body against her own was no longer painful, but right.

The press of Isobel's nose into the crook of her neck, the smell of night orchards and vanilla all she’d been yearning for. She felt herself mend at the cracks, inside and out. “I dreamt every night that you’d come back to me. That it was all a nightmare that somehow dawn would undo.” She pulled away from their embrace, though refused to let go. She never wanted to let go again.

She knew not of what Selûne had sacrificed to set Shar’s chosen on the path to freeing her, and she would not ask. Perhaps she may have if bitterness did not sit heavy in her heart where devotion once had. Over time, her relationship with her mother would heal, and they would both understand each other’s sacrifice, but for now, with Isobel back in her arms, all Aylin wanted was a moment to rest, to find her own Paradise in her lover’s arms, even if it was in a moldy room at Last Light Inn.

#hi i did another thing #i'm gay harold #fanfics

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kalevalakryze · 2 months ago

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Here comes the patreon!

Ok so it’s mostly a help for artists! with pose references!

There are 2 tiers for now!

Basic ($2)

Which are varios couple poses

Solo poses

Half body poses

Full body poses

Weapons poses

And then there is the spicy tier! ($5)

This has everything from the tier before

Plus nsfw poses, both solo or couple poses

—

Im also thinking to add another tier with more personalized content, polls and process videos. But that will come later 🫡

Here are some samples of what the patreon has already up

THANKS YOU ALL

#patreon #somewillwin

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kalevalakryze · 2 months ago

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kalevalakryze · 2 months ago

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Resources for Writing Sensitive Topics

As always, when writing about sensitive topics/injuries/illnesses, we encourage everyone to research and tag works appropriately. This is to ensure that the whump community can remain a safe space for everyone, as well as assist writers in creating well-informed works that avoid offending people and stereotyping, romanticising, or sensationalising hard topics.

Below are some links to resources we and others found useful - we'd like to thank the wonderful members of our community for helping us with finding great resources.

Blogs/Tumblr Posts:

@cripplecharacters - A whole blog dedicated to helping people write disabled characters.

^ A Guide to Writing Disabled Characters

@writingwithcolor - A whole blog dedicated to writing and resources centered on racial, ethnic and religious diversity.

^ Stereotypes and Tropes Navigation

Resources for Writing Injuries (Tumblr Masterpost)

Resources for Writing Sketchy Topics (Tumblr Masterpost - please note that a couple of links are broken due to the post being 7 years old, but many are still working!)

A guide to designing, drawing or writing characters who use mobility aids (Tumblr post)

Writing A Blind or Visually Impaired Character (Tumblr Post)

Independent Websites

Avoiding Stereotypes in Fiction: Characters with Mental Health Issues (WritersHelpingWriters)

How Do I Depict a Disabled Character Respectfully? (Fay Onyx, Mythcreants blog)

Respectfully Depicting a Character Adapting to a Disability (Fay Onyx, Mythcreants blog)

Writing Deaf Characters (T. Frohock, author.)

How to Write Deaf or Hard of Hearing Characters (Melanie Ashford, Science Fiction & Fantasy Writers Association)

How to Write a Blind or Vision Impaired Character (AllWriteAlright)

If anyone has any additional sources, feel free to share them in the reblogs/replies!

POST CONTRIBUTERS - Thank you!

@psychologeek - Thank you for sharing some of the primary resources with us, it helped us a great deal :)

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kalevalakryze · 2 months ago

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I Fell In Love With a War | I Fell In Love With a Fire

Rating: Explicit Relationship: The Armorer/Bo-Katan Kryze Tags: smut, vaginal fingering, strap ons, declarations of love, bo katan is being herself again Word Count: 3,892 AO3 Link: Here! Notes: This piece was actually for @nitearmorweek day 2! Temperance!

“I wish I was good at something other than war.”

Her voice was soft, soft enough that the Armorer almost hadn’t heard it among the hustle and bustle inside of the medical tent.

It was only through sheer luck that Bo-Katan had the perimeter alarms installed mere hours before the attack, and it was her experience in aerial warfare that allowed enough time to clear most of their people into the safety provided by the caves that encompassed most of Sundari’s inhabitable remains.

Blood streaked across the royal blue of her armor, whether the rust-colored ichor was Mandalorian or Imperial, no one could truly be sure.

Many had looked towards the Armorer for direction, for purpose, though none looked at her the same way Bo-Katan Kryze did, watching as she splinted a young Mandalorian’s arm in place. “Are you injured?” The woman asked in place of a true response, allowing the redhead’s remark to fade away as she helped her current patient up from the hastily fabricated cot.

The Armorer’s words seemed to startle Bo-Katan into back reality and to, unfortunately, spook her away. She watched, dismayed as Bo-Katan turned on unsteady feet and pushed out of the tent, and into the heavy foot traffic of activity that their displaced people created outside.

Getting everyone settled had been a long and tedious task. Making time to find Bo-Katan proved to be even harder than that, however, as it seemed like every time she got a moment, the redhead had assigned herself on yet another patrol, taking to their ruined atmosphere to watch for oncoming attacks as their satellites and sensors were repaired once again.

So the Armorer waited… and waited… and waited. She stayed in Bo-Katan’s tent like a statue, perched on the edge of the messy cot, all the way until the early hours of the morning when the redhead returned.

At first, Bo-Katan seemed to glaze past her presence, ignorant of the other woman in the room as exhaustion pulled at her very being. It wasn’t until her helmet was set down on a rickety table and she was beginning to remove her greaves that she suddenly became aware of the woman in her space.

A blade sprung from her gauntlet, piercing the dirt as she stayed crouched at her boots, burdensome green eyes staring up at the Armorer who merely watched, and waited for recognition to cross her gaze. “What?” Bo-Katan croaked, forcing her blade back into its sheath, and removing her gauntlets and gloves before refocusing on her boots.

“You are a difficult one to keep track of.” The Armorer tread carefully, rising to her feet in time with the redhead finally pulling her boots off and setting them aside.

“What did you need, then?” She huffed, pulling on the many different hidden straps that secured her armor, unbuckling and unwinding various pieces through muscle memory alone, pausing only when the Armorer’s hand raised to regain her attention.

“You never answered my question, were you injured in the attack yesterday?” The Armorer kept her voice even, taking the same caution one would with a wounded animal, an approach she found worked often with Bo-Katan, even if it only seemed to earn her flashes of teeth and biting retorts.

Instead of being met with a fiery mettle, the Mand’alor released a sigh that dropped her shoulders. “I took care of it,” She responded, fingers brushing across the remains of burnt plasma across the black paint of her abdomen plate, allowing the Armorer to see the newly patched hole in her flight suit.

“And I’ll always take care of it, really… I’m okay.” Her face softened after a moment, the corners of her eyes crinkling as she looked up at the Armorer. “It’s what I was made to do.”

“Perhaps.” The Armorer agreed. “But even beskar has found new uses over the centuries, from weapon to protection, it may have been created with a purpose, but that does not limit its potential, nor does it carve the fate of the iron, as time and heat can wear it down into something new, once it finds the right hand,”

Bo-Katan’s brows furrowed, nose crinkling endearingly as she forced her way past all the euphemisms of armor and metal. “Perhaps.” The redhead parroted after a moment, shaking her head in lieu of continuing.

The shorter woman hummed in response, allowing Bo-Katan to turn away to remove the rest of her armor, dropping pieces carefully on the table as she went through the motions.

The jacket of her flight suit was peeled off slowly, sore muscles protesting under the Armorer’s careful gaze. The white fabric of Bo-Katan’s top was still scorched through, allowing the Armorer to see the gauze taped sloppily to her abdomen beneath it.

“Would you allow me to help you?” She spoke up at last, stepping forward when Bo-Katan reached to gingerly cup her abdomen as she turned to lay her jacket across her armor. The Armorer’s hand moved to rest against the small of her back, pressing heat into worn and tired muscles, feeling the shiver that ran down her back immediately in response. Pale, scarred hands pressed into the old wood of the table, stabilizing herself as the burn of leftover adrenaline in her veins threatened to bleed into something more demanding.

Bo-Katan paused, lips flickering in the remnants of a smile. “Makers, alor…” The Armorer’s head tilted, watching as the older woman’s nails pressed into the wood, supporting herself on trembling forearms as she shook her head. The muscles along her back continued to spasm and twitch under the Armorer’s gaze.

“You have a knack for trying to avoid questions, Lady Kryze.” Her thumb pressed into a knot along her back, earning her the view of Bo-Katan pulling her bottom lip between her teeth as she looked back at her.

“Helps you live longer.”

The Armorer’s other hand moved around the redhead’s waist, this time coming to rest carefully over the poorly patched wound against her abdomen. Bo-Katan’s breath hitched, the Armorer could feel the way her lungs expanded with the sharp inhale that followed. “Oh does it, now?”

Huffing, Bo-Katan pushed off the table with her fingertips, trusting the Armorer not to allow her to fall as she leaned back into the hand against her back. “Shut up,” she grumbled, cheeks reddening at the teasing tone in the blacksmith’s voice. Bo-Katan rocked back on her heels, encompassed fully by the hands pressing steadfast against her back and midriff.

The chuckle in her ear was warm, and the shorter woman’s arm moved to wrap around her waist, fingers curling protectively around her hip, fingertips dipping just below the band of her pants, it was comforting, as the Armorer moved the taller woman to rest back against her chest. “Let me help you.” She knew better than to word it as a question, knew that Bo-Katan would only truly accept when it was phrased as a demand, an order she could follow, a purpose.

Bo-Katan’s hand moved to rest over the gloved one at her hip, threading their fingers together for a moment. This territory was still fairly new to them both, something tender and caring forged between them before they’d even had their home, something they only had time to rekindle once in a blue moon, an itch that urged to be scratched only now, when Bo-Katan could admit that she needed a soft touch, or, more often than not, something more careful.

“Yeah… I suppose I could…” There was a pause as the woman swallowed her pride. “I could use your help.”

“Jat’ad.” Bo-Katan shivered at the endearment. No one had ever been able to elicit a reaction from her with such words before, yet she could feel the rich timber of her voice dripping into her skin and straight to the pit of her stomach. “And your injury?” Gloved fingers slipped carefully along the scorched hole in her top, prodding at the tape securing the gauze to her skin.

“Later…” Bo-Katan gasped out as the Armorer’s other hand moved to push past the waistband of her pants. “Gedet’ye.” She added as an afterthought, squeezing at the gloved hand that was pushing her pants down and out of the way before grabbing at the table once again. “I need…” Her breath was slow and controlled. She’d had to learn the hard way that if she didn’t tell The Armorer what she needed outright, the bullish woman would wait… and wait… and keep waiting until the Mand’alor could suck it up enough to ask.

“I need to know.” Her head turned to the side as the Armorer followed, pushing her closer to the table as the lower half of her flight suit was dropped to the floor. “Know that-” Her forearms pressed flat into the wood, she could feel the coolness of beskar pressing against her back as the Armorer crowded her.

The Armorer must have taken pity on her exhausted state, for the hand on her abdomen moved to rest over her heart, fingers pressing securely into her breastbone as her other hand slid across the damp fabric of ruined underwear, the evidence of arousal from just the woman’s proximity clear as day with Bo-Katan shivering against her. “You are known.” She promised, both hands disappearing from the malleable woman before her. Soon, thick leather gloves joined Bo-Katan’s armor and jacket on the table, and two bare hands were snaking against her skin.

It was something heavenly altogether, to be deemed worthy of the touch of a woman so holy. To be known not just in body, but in spirit by another woman who dedicated herself to something bigger than any of them. The touch of work-hardened hands felt like rebirth and if there was anything the regent ruler of Mandalore truly needed, it was a reminder that she was not the person she had been.

Bo-Katan’s back arched into the touch of calloused fingers palming at her breast beneath her top, shivering against the other woman as those fingers danced down to the band of her underwear. “Do you have-” Another pause as her nipple was pinched and rolled between deft fingers.

The Armorer hummed and nodded, settling Bo-Katan’s ass against her front, allowing the redhead to rock backwards and release a quiet groan at the feeling of the packed away bulge, barely felt through the leather of her apron. “Fuck.” Bo-Katan groaned, head hanging low as the Armorer’s hand pulled away from her underwear to instead focus on freeing her legs from the confines of the apron.

Patience was hard to come by as she listened to the rustling just behind her. The Armorer did not step away as she disrobed, allowing Bo to feel every bump of her hips and to shiver as the other woman practically laid against her back to lay her apron on the table carefully.

“Here-” The redhead’s fingers fumbled through her belt, tossed haphazardly across her armor, digging her way through pouches at random until she could pass a packet back towards the woman. Frowning at the warm chuckle as it was taken from her, the redhead glared back at her through her peripherals.

“I understand you can be a glutton for pain, mesh’la…. I’m not going to fuck you with bacta.”

“What?” The packet was tossed back to the table and Bo-Katan cursed inwardly at the labeling, allowing her forehead to drop back on the table for just a moment. “Shut up,” She groaned, instead focusing on dumping her belt contents onto the table and sorting through the array of weapon pieces, credits, and bacta to finally pull a packet of lube from the pile. “Blame Reeves, she messed up my system..”

“Mmm, sure.” The Armorer leaned against her back to grab the packet, the now unrestrained head of her strap brushing against Bo-Katan’s clothed cunt. “Stay still,” She ordered, free hand settling against her hips before she could think to rock herself back against the friction.

“Open.” The Armorer held the packet before Bo-Katan’s face, holding it tight as the woman used her teeth to tear the corner and spit the plastic to the floor. She allowed the silence to settle over them, watching as Bo-Katan shivered and twitched in anticipation and mounting anxiety, the slick sounds of the Armorer spreading the lube into her hand and along the strap, and the hiss of her own breathing whistling past her lips the only break from the silence.

Bo-Katan’s lips pressed together in a thin line as she waited, anticipation trembling beneath her skin under each touch the Armorer graced her with as she reached to pull her underwear to join the heap of her pants around her ankles. The first touch of bare fingers along her weeping cunt was almost enough to make the woman collapse, though it was the possessive whisper, ringing through her ears even as it barely registered through the helmet’s vocoder- “So wet for me…” That made her head hang and her breathing falter.

“Alor,” Bo-Katan groaned, fingers curling around the lip of the table as the Armorer worked a hand between her legs, fingers dragging through the slick pooled at her center and spreading it up towards her clit, circling the nub of electrified nerves tight enough to make the Mand’alor’s legs shake.

The head of the Armorer’s strap pressed through her folds, earning her a wounded mixture of whine and groan as the prone woman tried to push herself back into the lustrous attentions, the muscles in her forearms flexing as her restraint came undone in just a few well-crafted strokes. She was given no more than the head of the toy to try and sate a hunger that ran deeper than anything she had ever known, content to make do, so long as it was the blacksmith before her, willing to take whatever she offered as a gift from the long dead gods themselves.

“Fuck,” Bo-Katan groaned, the table coming danger close to meeting her cheek as her body wavered under the Armorer’s ministrations, shivering and threatening to turn her body to take, which would have been viable… were it anyone else offering this specific kind of ‘help’. She would have already given Fennec a black eye for drawing it out so long, and she was certain if it was Tano, the tent would have been wrecked in a scuffle from the Jetti’s lessons in ‘patience’ though she found herself sinking into the anticipation as the Arnorer’s hand closed almost possessively against her hip, releasing a breathy sigh at the pad of the woman’s thumb brushing against her clit in a rhythm known only to her.

“All that foul language, and yet you still do not know how to answer questions when they’re asked of you.” The Armorer teased, earning a huff and a defiant roll of the redhead’s hips. “Or to ask for help when you need it, instead-” Bo-Katan’s breath hitched at the smooth press of two fingers past her folds, replacing the bulbous head of the strap, and accepted easily into her greedy cunt as the woman behind her merely breathed a chuckle in response. “You allow yourself to get so worked up…” The fingers inside scissored against her walls, dragging languidly through her, pulling the fight from her bones and allowing her to fall prey to the raw feelings that put the vestiges of restraint in peril.

“And you forget, it seems, that you are good at much more than war,” Each word was enunciated with the addicting slide of fingers working her open. “However, I do not mind reminding you, whenever you need.”

Bo-Katan huffed, though she found no malice as her thumb swiped against her clit, tremours building across her body as her hips jerked into the Armorer’s hands, biting back each gasp as the blacksmith’s hand sunk further into clamping depths.

Sweat beaded at her temples, her nerves sparking with electricity built up from the sloppy grind of her hips and the contrast of the refined way the Armorer’s fingers curled, focusing on the spongey spot that threatened to drive Bo-Katan over the edge.

“Alor-” Her words came in a breathless whisper, bordering closer on the edge of pleading than she would ever admit. Her nails caught into the knots of the wood beneath her as she tried to steady herself, scrambling for some semblance of stability that could resist the animalistic urge to give in, to admit fully to the Armorer that yes, she’d been hurt, and yes, there was an enormous vulnerability when it came to her proficiencies.

The Armorer hummed in response as her free hand moved to press into the small of her back, urging Bo-Katan’s hips to press and meet the rhythm of her hand. Then, just as it was becoming too much, the fingers pumping in her cunt were done, and the thumb circling into her clit disappeared just a second later, leaving Bo-Katan shaking, sounding like a wounded animal as she keened.

She would have threatened to tear her partner’s throat out with her teeth for doing such a thing, for leaving her open and wanting and needy. Yet the Armorer received no such threats. Bo-Katan merely sucked in a breath, hissing sharply to stop her tongue from betraying her. “What-”

The head of the strap pressed against her clit again, fuel to the fire that was her center. “Fuck,” She was reminded of the length when the Armorer rocked against her, grinding the shaft of the toy across her weeping cunt. The promise of being full enough to bring a traitorous whine from her chest.

“My first love was my craft.” The Armorer spoke at last, pressing the head of the strap to Bo-Katan’s entrance once again, though she did not stop once the bulbous toy entered. When Bo-Katan pressed greedily back for more, the Armorer allowed it, comforted by the press of the Mand’alor’s backside fully against her hips. Her hand, now freed, closed the gap, bare, slicked fingers pressing into the sculpted muscle of her shoulder.

Losing the promise of the table to hold her up was daunting, but she found herself allowing herself to be bent, pliable to the Armorer’s wishes as fingers danced to the base of her throat, ushering the redhead almost entirely back against her chest as she rolled her hips, knocking the sharp just of the woman’s hipbones into the edge of the table.

“My second was for my people, though they had quickly taken priority,” The Armorer continued, her other hand moving to curl around the angle of Bo-Katan’s hips. She stayed silent, biting her lip as the woman spoke, each word finding ambiance in the lewd, wet noises of the strap-on buried in her cunt.

“My third, well…” The hand on Bo-Katan’s hip moved to find the oversensitive cluster of nerves, easily picking up the prior ministrations that brought a stuttered gasp past chapped lips. “It seems I fell in love with a war.” Bo-Katan felt her hips falter in their desperate search for release. Thankfully, before she could fully wrap her mind around the words, the pillar at her back continued.

“I fell in love with the mistakes everyone had told me to avoid, I fell in love with the redemption of needless bloodshed and the desire to be better. I love the fierce protection that war holds for its people. There is so much loss and pain in war, but there is beauty as well.”

She could feel a familiar pressure building, egged on by the delicious drag of the strap through her folds, the tight circles pressed into her clit, and the way the Armorer’s words sent more than electricity down her spine. “I fell in love, not with the war that nearly eradicated my people, but the war that brought us together, with our vode we thought lost to corruption.” The hand around her throat tightened, Bo-Katan saw stars light up her vision as she leaned into a dangerous touch.

“I fell in love with you, Lady Kryze,” The purring voice in her ear was vulnerable, baring herself more than just her lower half, as if she were the one filled to the brim with something so intimate, leaking secrets with Bo-Katan’s slick.

Bo-Katan wasn’t sure how she responded, she hoped it was something intelligent and meaningful, but the Armorer had chosen that exact moment to thrust her hips, nails scratching into the smooth column of her throat while restricting her air in a way that had her jumping off the ledge with a running start.

It was better than flying, the fear of falling, but with the promise of someone catching you before you hit the ground. Bo-Katan was lost in the feeling, unable to control the indecipherable syllables that rolled from her tongue as she tried to combat pleasure with logic, to find the words the Armorer deserved to hear, and to speak them as plainly and confidently as she’d been allowed.

And yet, the Armorer didn’t seem to fight for a response, she did not seem to expect a stuttered “I love you too” back. She simply stayed, strong and unmoving as the pieces that made up Bo-Katan Kryze tumbled into the same pile her armor was in.

When she resurfaced, focusing beyond the pounding sounds in her ears, the redhead finally wriggled enough to turn, biting back a whine at the sharp empty feeling of the Armorer sliding out of her. It felt a bit silly, to be standing before her, mere inches from the bright red silicone covered in slick, to say words that felt so heavy.

“I fell in love with a fire,” She admitted, still breathless, still red-faced as the Armorer reached to wrap her hands around her hips again. “You burn so hot, it’s impossible not to feel it-” She pretended not to notice the way dark hands were still uncovered, contrasting against the paleness of her own hips. “Impossible to not be melted, and to be reforged by your mere proximity.” Her hand reached towards the golden curve of the expressionless helmet before her. “I never thought there was a part of me that needed to be fixed-”

The Armorer made to cut her off, though Bo-Katan pressed a finger to the visor to silence her. “And you never tried. Knowing me, who I am, you didn’t decide I was broken, as many had.”

“You just needed reforged.” The Armorer expressed, an overwhelming fondness transferring through her helmets speaker. “Guided towards your next shape.”

Bo-Katan nodded in agreement, her lips twitching into a small smile as she leaned back against the table. The Armorer’s head tilted down, and Bo almost thought she was staring at the drying slick on her strap. Before she could offer to clean up her mess, the Armorer’s fingers found the weak adhesive to her bandages. “If you understand this prospect, then perhaps you will allow me to clean you up, properly.”Bo-Katan almost laughed, because of course, she’d found a lover who cared more about a minor injury being improperly treated, over one that would have jumped at the opportunity to shove their strap down her throat- not that she’d never done so herself, or that she would complain, but she found it endearing all the same.

Mando'a Translations: jat'ad - good girl Gedet'ye - Please Jetti - Jedi Mesh'la - Beautiful Vode - Siblings Alor - leader

#nitearmor #the armorer #bo katan kryze #smut #wlw smut #wlw ns/fw #nitearmor week #day 2 #temperance #heavy are the hips that wear the strap #we're not gonna talk about how late this Is pls and ty

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kalevalakryze · 2 months ago

Text

Sweet Treat

Rating: Explicit Relationship: Mother Aniseya/Mother Koril Tags: smut, vaginal fingering, thigh riding (?) Word Count: 2,279 AO3 Link: Here!

“My sweet girl must have sweet treats.” The smooth lilt of Aniseya’s voice brought a shiver up her spine, spreading inky waves of heat across her skin, not unlike the magick they all shared a deep connection to.

The sugared coating of the spice cream brushed against her lips, soft and pillowy, though it was the gentle caress of the other woman’s thumb against the corner of her mouth that truly had her ready to melt, to morph into mist and follow the will of their powers however Aniseya saw fit.

Aniseya’s other hand, curled oh so preciously against the curve of her waist is what reminded her that the will of not just their magick, but their thread, wanted her right where she was, corporeal and everlasting, just as they’d promised all those years ago when their family had become something more.

Koril’s lips parted at last, allowing the homemade delicacy to settle on the center of her tongue. Aniseya smiled something warm, much more tempting than anything someone in their coven could produce. The other woman’s fingers lingered against her tongue, prompting Koril to close her lips around the digits, pressing her tongue up into the roof of her mouth until the harder outer shell of the treat exploded across her senses. Golden eyes slid shut, and as she began to maneuver her tongue along the fingers in her mouth, she could feel Aniseya’s warm hum of approval where it grumbled in the other woman’s chest.

When Koril’s eyes opened once more, she was granted with the beauty of Aniseya’s golden smile, and when the digits were pulled from her lips, Koril chased the tips of each finger, pressing the most gentle of kisses before the woman could retract the rest of the way. “Even my strongest warriors deserve the most tender of touches.” Aniseya reminded her, the hand at her waist rising to gently press against the tip of the horns protruding from the Zabrak’s head.

“I believe I was promised a sweet treat,” Koril reminded her with a sly grin, tongue darting out to lick at her lips as Aniseya chuckled that deep, symphonic laugh.

“You were, dear.”

This time, it was Koril who reached forward, tattooed hands tracing along the taller woman’s jawline, up the sides of her face, tracing each curve until she could link her fingers together at the back of her neck. When the witch stepped backward, Aniseya followed eagerly.

The backs of her knees hit the edge of their bed, her descent softened by the piles of furs and soft fabrics that made up their covers. The weather was warming on Brendok, and soon, they would do away with the many layers, but for now? Koril could easily be sated from the heat with the skilled fingers that worked through thick fabric, shedding her cloak and tunic.

Light skin streaked with blue ink was bare to the warm glow, off-colored only by the sun as it pierced through the different panels of colorful stained glass settled high amongst their chamber walls. Aniseya settled her weight back, barely leaning on the bed so she could look down upon Koril to truly appreciate the way the colors danced across her skin, how her chest flushed a delicate shade of pink, and how the thin scars across her abdomen seemed to twist with each controlled breath.

“Look at you.” Aniseya breathed, lowering herself until her knees touched the thick rug against the stone floors, letting her fingers trace the many lines of ink all the way across her chest, down her abdomen, and to the loose band of the other woman’s pants.

Koril breathed out a soft sigh. On any other night, she would have shoved herself upwards, to watch on her elbows and urge Aniseya not to keep her waiting. But occasionally, allowing the woman her… indulgences would make their time together much more intense. Just like the night their daughters had been conceived, and while there was no driving reason behind their passions tonight, Aniseya still looked at Koril as if she held all the answers, all the warmth, and all the safety that their people could ever need to want.

“My sweet girl,” Aniseya repeated as she rid Koril of loose pants, shoving them off and aside, out of mind as her own sweet treat was revealed to her.

“You tease,” Koril rasped at the warm press of lips against the inside of her knee, fighting a shiver with the heat of Aniseya’s breath casting gooseflesh across her legs.

“Perhaps so,” Aniseya retorted, a playful smile gracing her lips as she peered up at the Zabrak, waiting until Koril at last maneuvered, rising up just enough so yellow-gold eyes could meet her own.

“You are impossible,” Koril grumbled, reaching her hand to card through her own hair, pulling it free of the ties that kept it back during the day.

“And yet, you wouldn’t have me any other way,” The confidence was sickening; Koril wanted more, especially as the woman worked on shucking away her own layers, still hellbent on allowing the Zabrak her moment of superiority, looking up at her through lidded brown eyes.

“Not entirely true,” Koril hummed as she reached down, two fingers hooking under Aniseya’s chin. She pulled, and the woman followed. Eagerly slotting herself between the Zabrak’s legs and allowing herself to fall into the trap that was Koril’s lips. The pad of her thumb ran down the line of their magicks’ mark down her chin. “Certainly, there are other ways I would prefer to have you, especially right now.”

“Who am I to disallow you from your wishes?” Aniseya agreed, seeming to muse over the very professional proposal. When Koril surged up to lock their lips together once more, the human couldn’t help but smile into her. The pleasant warmth of her hand was a startling contrast to the coolness of Koril’s own skin- or perhaps it was the shock of arousal when the source of heat cupped her breast, the pad of Aniseya’s thumb following a stark corner of ink where it spread across her chest, stopping only when following the trail would mean removing her hand.

Aniseya’s thumb brushed over a textured line in her skin, following it until she could follow the river of heated skin to the darkened skin around her nipple. Tongue darting out, Koril licked her lips, still tasting the tingle of the spice cream and the distinct taste of Aniseya lingering in her mouth.

The witch's knees dipped into the bed, demanding space that the Zabrak was more than happy to scooch back to allow her. With a warm palm resting against the top of a pale thigh, Aniseya was able to steady herself, distracting the woman below her with her fingers dancing overtop of sensitive skin, carefully twisting oversensitive nubs, keeping her blind to the way her other hand drifted past the realm of soft skin and to the point where her tattoos ended, fading into a bush of curly brown hair.

Golden eyes darkened considerably as she looked up, peering through lidded eyes as her legs instinctively fell further apart, allowing Aniseya to see the gleam of wetness that darkened her curls. “The way the darkness settles in your eyes.” She breathed softly, fingers drifting lower to cup the inferno at the apex of her warriors' thighs. “I lose my desire to toy with you when I see such beauty.” She revealed as her forefingers delved between fervent folds, dragging slick to the forefront of their metaphorical stage.

It was here that they had threaded their lives together, though perhaps in much more a rushed fashion than any other time that they’d strengthened their bond. And with the press of her thumb into the engorged nub, the soft, breathy gasp that echoed from their bed chamber walls promised that not only was their bond as strong as the first night they’d tangled their limbs and life forces as one, but it grew stronger still with the promise of their girls, their life, and their continued safety in these walls.

“Aniseya,” Koril moaned, her fingers curling into the furs beneath her, struggling to keep their moments tender, to resist the urge to tear flesh from bone with her teeth, to promise that all would know that Koril’s claim laid bare of ebony flesh.

“Patience will reward you with all you could ever want, my good girl .” Aniseya purred, allowing one finger to slip into Koril’s heat to the second knuckle. Truly, she had to commend Koril, for the growl that gurgled past her lips was only slightly distorted by the needy, useless whine that followed. She never was a patient person when it came to what she wanted.

Her only mercy was found in each roll of her hips, unrestrained as she fought to find the rhythm that Aniseya fucked that one, torturous finger into her. Each breath she sucked past her lips was met with a warmth in her chest as she reached out subconsciously towards

“Ani-“ Koril’s growl of frustration was broken only by the press of a second finger joining her first, delving through velvety folds with little resistance. The Zabrak made a choked sound as one hand relieved itself from the safety of their blankets to thread into the other woman’s dreads. She did not pull, nor did she tangle her fingers painfully into each loc as she wished, she only held the woman there, more than grateful to feel the way the other woman bowed into her touch.

When she dared to crack her eyes open, she saw only the tenderness of her beloved’s smile and the darkness of blown brown pupils. Full lips were parted, sucking in deep breaths as if the mere sight of Koril’s unraveling was enough to tangle her own cords.

“I want to feel you.” Koril breathed into the slickness of the night, whimpering- perhaps over-exaggeratedly for Aniseya’s sake. A little embarrassment and vulnerability to reach her end goal was worth it, anything was worth it whenever Aniseya was concerned.

The resounding grumble was more than an answer, magick thrummed in their chamber, wound tight in the dark witch’s skin as she leaned over her beloved. “The last time you asked this of me,” she mused, clearly amused as she slotted her thigh between Koril’s, allowing the zabrak to finally feel the arousal soaking between the other woman’s thighs. “We had children.” The press of her thigh against the back of her hand only urged dexterous fingers deeper into her aching cunt.

“Mm,” Koril answered simply as she rocked her hips against the soft thigh pressing into her. “A sacrifice I am willing to make for you. Always for you.” The words were thick on her tounge, the stimulation of fingers buried to the knuckle inside of her with the rocking of the other woman’s thighs itching the part of her brain that brought static to the forefront. The laugh that bounced from the stone walls was warm like honey, and the smile that she found on full lips was brighter than any sun she’d ever seen before- great, she was getting sappy. Koril’s nails raced down the back of Aniseya’s neck as she flexed the muscles in her own thighs, relishing in the way her laugh turned into a near desperate whine of arousal.

Her lips found the column of Aniseya’s throat, pressing wet kisses against warm skin, teeth gracing along veins hidden just below. Their hips continued to rock together in tandem, turning sloppier as ragged breaths joined together. Koril’s nails pressed into Aniseya’s shoulder, one hand dropping to follow the swell of her breast and thumb at her nipple, while Aniseya’s own hands focused on fucking into Koril’s cunt, while the other pressed a bruising grip into her hip, egging on the unrestrained way they rocked into each other.

When Koril came, she did not feel it first in her physical form. It was the weave that unwound rapidly, filling her body with magick and arousal, blurring her vision and sending her blood pumping into her ears. She could hear Aniseya’s shuddering gasp and the high-pitched sound of her moaning, though it felt as if she were underwater, one with the macgick in their blood. Aniseya’s eyes were black in their entirety, and Koril was sure hers reflected the same.

Golden eyes returned slowly to normal as her focus came back. Aniseya was leaning over her, one arm pressed into their mattress to keep herself up. Dark lines shined on her skin where Koril’s nails had scratched her affections into her breast and shoulder, and the sheen of sweat against her skin glinted in the multicolored lights around them. When Aniseya’s eyes reopened, they were warm and blissful, perhaps darker than the typical chocolatey brown they usually took on, though Koril wasn’t one to complain when her beloved allowed the darkness to shine.

Aniseya’s fingers were coated in her slick, and well, Koril knew her wife wasn’t fond of sticky messes. She reached carefully and deliberately, training her fingers along the woman’s wrist to guide her hand away from the apex of her thighs. Aniseya watched with lustful amusement as the Zabrak brought her fingers to her lips, carefully licking off her arousal as if it were the spice cream from before. “A sweet treat indeed, however, I believe seconds are in order?”

“Greedy today, aren’t we?” Aniseya asked fondly, unable to help the boisterous laugh as tattooed hands grabbed at her hips and urged her upwards on the bed, finally allowing Koril a taste of the finest delicacy in the whole galaxy.

#aniseya/koril #mother koril #mother aniseya #wlw ns/fw #star wars femslash #the acolyte #f/f fanfic

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