#AND THANK YOU EVERYONE WHO PARTICIPATED IN THE POLL FOR HER NAME !! ]

[lunaetis]

the rover - wuthering waves

BASIC INFO

NAME / ALIAS : yinyue / yin ( yínyuè - 银月 - silver moon ) AGE : unknown ( appears mid to late 20s ) GENDER : female ORIENTATION : demisexual / demiromantic CLASS : resonator - rover ATTRIBUTE : spectro & havoc WEAPON : sword POWER & ABILITIES : vessel of sound ( capable of absorbing all sounds in the world ), close-to-mid range combat, sound waves manipulation, lie detector

PHYSICAL TRAITS

EYE COLOUR : liquid gold, glow brighter when using her power HAIR COLOUR : jet black with inner streaks of silver HEIGHT : 178 cm ( 5'10 ) SKIN : fair TATTOOS & MARKINGS : a mark of a soundwave ( tacet mark ) on the back of her right hand. smaller and black when dormant, expand and glow bright gold when using her power. pierced ears.

PERSONALITY

POSITIVE TRAITS : compassionate, fearless, observant, respectful NEUTRAL TRAITS : decisive, determined, honest, open-minded NEGATIVE TRAITS : stubborn, temperamental, reckless, private LIKES : calming sounds, the moon, night breeze DISLIKES : sharp noises, loud sounds, lies ALIGNMENT : chaotic good RANDOM FACTS : sensitive to sounds, play with her hair when thinking / nervous

BACKGROUND

" that must be why i'm here, to put a stop to it. " the rover of unknown origins. awakened with no memories and has since been on a journey, tracking down traces of her own past and her purpose of awakening. explore where your heart takes you. slay calamons with your niellore blade. end the cycle of calamity. " is this the beginning of a new journey ? brimming with novel sounds, and untold stories ... "

[neechees]

Severely underfunded Palestinian fundraiser

This family is severely underfunded, with only 3% of their goal raised and are currently at €1,291. They have come to me saying that it is getting harder and harder to find food and water, and they barely have any funds to draw from as it is. If you'd like to help change that, and contribute to saving their lives, please think about donating (even a small amount) and/or reblogging this!

vetted and listed as #19 on this document.

and below as a thank you for taking the time to read this, here's a fun poll. Please reblog if you participate, I wanna see who helped build our beautiful snow man

[sinstae]

Sweet Dreams ☁️

Pairings | L&DS!Sylus , L&DS!Zayne , x fem. reader

Genre | ☁️ fluff, 💋 smut

Word Count | 2.7k

Warnings | ⚠️ minors DNI ⚠️ , smut smut SMUT, established relationship, Zylus, poly, throuple, Dom!Sylus, Dom!Zayne, pet names, size difference, Sylus teasing 😩, use of Evol, manhandling, stressed!Zayne, voyeurism, male & fem. oral, masturbation, rough sex, squint for face fucking, creampie, bigdick!Sylus, needy!Zayne, aftercare, cute couple 🤧

🔖 m.list♡

🌄 ; Till Dawn♡

a/n ; I hate being sick, this SUCKS. Thank you everyone who participated in the poll! I will be doing more of those to gauge what my audience likes so yeah please feel free to leave feedback via comments/asks, I strive to improve each time! Thank you again & hope you 'njoy! c;

"Luke! Kieran!"

I belt out their names as I storm out my bedroom down the vast hall with my crow plushie in two parts. They expressed how cute they thought it was and it seems like their jealousy ended in decapitating the poor crow.

As I turn the corner into the living room I catch a glimpse of their coats flying in the wind from their rushed steps into Sylus' hallway leading to his office.

Off limits to me.

"Of course! Run to Daddy! You damn rough handed freaks!" I slap the dark wooden doors in frustration and if his office wasn't soundproofed I'm sure I'd hear them cackling.

I spin around, ready to storm back to my room, but my face collides with a hard sternum. I look up and meet Sylus' crimson eyes. His face is stoic and neutral yet I can almost hear his questions.

"Ah~ Sylus. Welcome home- uh I promise I wasn't trying to snoop or anything." He raises an eyebrow, looking over my head at the double doors before looking back down at me with the corner of his lips rising.

"Kitty got her claws out for the troublemakers again?" He pulls a hand from his pockets to gently pat my head.

"Look!" My anger that simmered down at the sight of him returns as I lift the crow plushie, dramatically holding the two pieces together then separating them. Mephisto materializes on Sylus' left shoulder with a caw. "I know Toto, we're gonna get them back."

Sylus chuckles and with the hand he was using to pat my head he gently pinches my cheek. "Darling you know I can just get you one from the supply."

"Of course I know that but this one was special. You got it for me when the collection first dropped through the claw machine." I roll my eyes and look down at the sad plushie.

"You're right, Kitten. I'll have a word with those two." His long finger tucks under my chin into a grip with his thumb as he guides my eyes back to his. "I have to ask though. Who's Daddy?"

I completely understand why he's asking but it's how he's asking. Eyes full of amusement, voice dropping into a whisper and I notice the quick glance he takes at my lips. No denying it now.

"You."

"Me?" Sylus chuckles again and Mephisto takes flight back down the hallway. "Mmm, unless you have an announcement for us both, I don't think so." Without moving or looking away from me he opens the door behind me slightly by using his Evol. "Luke, Kieran come out."

They clumsily slip out of the office, closing it behind them with their heads bowed. I look back and glare at the both of them while Sylus returns his hands to his pockets and stands to his full height. It's cute to see him be all soft around me and Zayne but others he rarely shows that side with Luke and Kieran being an exception.

"Apologize."

"We're real sorry Miss!" They speak in unison and I turn to face them with my arms crossed. They bow deeper and a satisfied smile graces my lips.

"This is me forgiving you but we certainly aren't even." They say nothing as expected and suddenly my hips are within Sylus' strong grasp and he lifts me from the floor, resting my ass onto his chest as he turns and walks away from them. "Sylus!"

I sway a bit, fear striking my heart that I'll teeter over making me instinctively grip his silver locks. He hisses, tightening his hold on my thighs. I apologize and smooth his hair down with a pat.

"'Evening, Doctor." Zayne?

"Good evening. Something happened?" I check my wrist and my workout band reads back at me a bold 7:00 PM. He's home very early.

"Zayne! Welcome home!"

"Thank you, Snowflake. What do you have there? Oh-" Zayne looks shocked to see the crow in my grasp.

"Yeah, the twins. They were probably fighting over my plushie and welp. . ." Zayne walks over to us after sitting his briefcase down on the black marbled counter top of the bar in the living room. He doesn't even question me perched on Sylus' chest and since he can't reach my lips he opts for pressing a kiss to my calf.

"Shame. I can repair him for you if you'd like." I nod and thrust the plushie into his hold and he grabs it with gentle hands. "I can have this done on my off day."

"Now if you'll excuse us, I have to talk to this Kitten about a certain Daddy." I slap a hand over his mouth a bit too late, not expecting Sylus to tell Zayne.

Poor Zayne's eyes widen, surely thinking the worst without context. "Has the implant failed? After all this time-?"

"No, no-"

"I wish."

"Sy!" He chuckles and playfully bites my thigh. "No it hasn't, I was teasing Luke and Kieran."

"Wanna join us?" Sylus tilts his head towards our bedroom and Zayne doesn't waste a second nodding once. "Eager are we?"

"I had a stressful surgery today." Zayne loosens his black tie and three buttons as he walks past us to lead the way.

"Did it go well?" I ask.

"It was a success. Just. . . My sleep wasn't great last night." He releases a deep sigh as he pushes open our bedroom doors with one palm and closes them behind us.

"Well of course not you- Ah~!" Sylus moves quick with dismounting me as if I were a cheerleader and tosses me gently onto the soft bed. "~Sy, jeez. But you slept at the office again. We missed you."

"I'm sorry. I didn't plan for it but I was able to fit in another surgery that way." Zayne is taking his time yet his movements are quick with precision as he undresses himself starting with his sleek wristwatch and vest following to join the injured plushie on the desk.

"You work so hard, Zay, you should really come with us to the bungalow. It's never too- ah~ late." Sylus is kneeling at the end of the bed with my panties in his back pocket and lips against my clit. He's sucking so softly it's leaving me on the line between pleasure and overstimulation.

The lit fireplace isn't helping the warmth rising beneath my skin causing me to scrunch up Zayne's sweater I'd been drowning in. It helps me see Sylus better this way; his long pink tongue wet with both his saliva and my cum creates the prettiest gloss to his lips. I moan as he licks his flat tongue harshly against my clit causing me to grind down and arch into him.

"I gave it some thought." I hear the drag of a chair and I look over at Zayne to see him sitting down into the dark red velvet arm chair near the foot of the bed. His black button up is completely open exposing his chest and his slacks are undone, his hand rubbing over his black briefs. "I'll join you both."

"Come." I reach my hand out and Sylus grabs it, pulling it back down to my side. I look down at him and he pulls away with a wet string, licking his lips.

"He wants to watch, Sweetheart." I look back over at Zayne, his head slightly hanging forward with his hand now beneath his briefs.

"You do?"

"He does. I saw it soon as we locked eyes earlier. He allowed me to see into his thoughts. So you," Sylus leans onto the bed with one knee and helps me out of the sweater fully to leave me naked under both their eyes. "Relax that pretty head of yours and be our good girl." Oh.

Zayne wants to watch how things are when Sylus and I are intimate. I want to get lost in the thoughts of Zayne stepping from his comfort zone to be in place of Sylus, handling me with less care but Sylus keeps me rooted.

He delivers a firm slap to my inner thigh and the sharp pain warms into my skin. "You were bad today too, Y/N." His rough hands slide up and down the outside of my thighs, gripping at my love handles. "Fighting with Luke and Kieran again, tsk."

"I wasn't-"

"Silence." His tone is demanding but gentle. I clench my thighs and blink up at him. "I know you're gonna tell me you didn't start it and I understand but-" He forces my thighs apart and leans his other knee onto the bed, red and black engulfing his frame in seconds to dissipate and reveal his naked body. "I believe I told you three to behave when we aren't at the estate."

Sylus' large frame cages me in and Zayne still has a clear view of us from the side. "I prepared you enough, tonight I'm giving it all." Oh fuck.

I suck in a deep breath as I feel his tip breach my opening, stretching me out over the warm skin. He barely gives me enough time to adjust as he sinks in with one fluid thrust upwards. A sharp pain shoots through my lower tummy and I try to push up using my heels to no avail with Sylus' grip on my hips.

"Deep- too deep, Sy- ah~!" I can barely focus my vision as my eyes start to water but I can still see the smirk adorning his beautiful face. I reach out to him and he allows me as I run my hands up and down his torso as if soothing him would soothe me through his deep strokes.

"How cute, are you telling me that's where I am?" He teases with a quick thrust, making my body jerk and clit come in contact with his pelvis creating the sweetest pleasure. A loud drawn out moan leaves my lips and rings like a mating call into Sylus' ears. He grabs my face in a firm grip and we make eye contact, his eyes burning a bright red as my head turns fuzzy, body relaxing. "As you wish."

Sylus tucks his hands underneath me to grip my ass and elevate me from the bed, angling me until his skin is flush against mine just how I like it. My eyes roll back as he starts at a bruising pace, working my nerves until they're red hot and tingling from my building orgasm.

I bring my hands up to squeeze at my breast, just as he'd foreseen. Sylus slides his right hand up to grip the back of my knee and bends it towards my chest to reveal more of our bodies connecting to Zayne. He has his dick out now, leaking precum all over his hand mixed with his own spit as he strokes himself in time with Sylus' thrusts.

"There! Fuck! So good, Sir- mmph!" Sylus releases under my knee leaving my foot bracing against his chest as he slides two fingers into my mouth.

"Such a dirty mouth. Suck." I leave his fingers coated in my saliva and he brings the same ones down to toy with my clit, breathy moans struggling to leave my throat as he knocks the wind from me with a numbing orgasm. "Breathe," He lowers us back down to the sheets while stretching my leg back down to lean over me and blow air onto my face.

I take a moment to catch my breath as he slowly rocks into me and peppers my face with kisses. "Green. . ." I moan softly.

"Good girl. On your knees, face Zayne." He slowly pulls out of me taking thick strings of cum and saliva with him as he helps me into position, fighting against my aching muscles. He moves into position behind me sliding his tip up and down my folds, snagging at my hole to thrust in slightly then repeat. I tap my foot against the bed in frustration, shaking slightly from the sensitivity and wanting him back inside filling me so perfect.

In one abrupt thrust he gives me what I want and Zayne is standing in front of me now, still stroking his long dick, teasing his tip with his thumb. His other hand reaches out and he tucks his thumb into my mouth to press down on my tongue.

Sylus props up a leg, planting it firmly onto the bed and pounds me into an arch, Zayne's hand following as I suck and drool down his wrist.

"So damn pretty." His hips stutter as a small squirt of cum lands onto my cheek, head pressed into the bed. "Look at me, Y/N." I blink as the tear swelling at my waterline spills onto his hand while he guides me with his thumb to look up. "Open."

He removes his thumb and coats my lips in my own saliva as if it's lip gloss then he guides just the tip of his dick past my lips, jerking the rest of him off. Zayne throws his head back, pleasure clearly taking over him as much as it's taking me from Sylus' constant unyielding pace.

Sylus spanks me hard, causing me to clench around him, hips stuttering as I grow too tight for him to properly thrust. Another spank for that and he rubs a hand over my burning cheek, pressing kisses to my spine as his pace finally slows into deep thrust to ease my suction.

"This ass will me the death of me, Sweetie. It colors so well, mhm, the recoil just right." I moan around Zayne as Sylus thrusts into my cervix, remaining still there as he presses a kiss to the back of my head. "Ready?" I can barely decide if I am, knowing he's about to grow another inch when he releases into my womb.

Thing is, Sylus will have his way whether I respond or not. I give a weak nod as I keep my eyes on Zayne who's looking down, sweat gathered along his collarbones and torso to match his flushed face. It's scrunched in pleasure, mouth agape as he releases heavy puffs of air, eyes zeroed in on my lips wrapped around him.

Sylus' hand slides up from my lower tummy between my breast to grip my throat, raising me higher for Zayne to slip further into my mouth, the man releasing a sweet moan as he now leans a knee onto the bed from his weakening stance feeling his own climax approaching.

"Take it all." Sylus whispers into my ear then kisses down to my soft spot to relax me further as he starts to grow an inch further into my cervix, thrusting harshly in three swift movements as he fills me with his cum. I suck Zayne harder, starting to fight against what little oxygen I have just as I feel him grow stiff against my tongue then one last thrust as he fills my mouth.

I suddenly tighten around Sylus, sucking him in a bit deeper and trapping him there as another orgasm rips through me. He groans into my neck and eases me off of Zayne by the throat, closing my mouth before any spill could happen.

"Swallow. Good girl. So precious, Y/N. You did so good for us." A soft kiss to my temple. "I know you're tired Sweetie, rest. I'll clean you up." I hum and flop down onto the bed, nuzzling into the warm sheets as Sylus gently pulls out of me, propping a pillow beneath me to stop any mess from hitting the bed.

I hear them moving around but slowly I feel the exhaustion taking over. My limbs are jello and even if I could move I don't want to. In my half asleep state I feel a warm towel cleaning between my legs and my face then more moving around until I'm being lifted and laid properly into the bed beneath the sheets with Zayne spooning me and Sylus' chest beneath my head.

Zayne presses kisses to the back of my head and neck, inhaling deeply as he intertwines our legs. In my last moments of consciousness I hear Sylus' deep, sultry voice. "Daddy loves you, sweet dreams."

[huramuna]

wine red, tears gold - chapter 1.

king aegon II x baratheon ofc

a 'what if aegon didn't get poisoned and the greens technically won the dance but at what cost' au. basically aegon, alicent, otto and jaehaera are the only greens alive. and larys i guess. someone get rid of this guy.

word count: 4.6k

aegon wasn't as badly injured from Rook's Rest like in canon in this AU, he has a few burn scars near his torso but wasn't crippled / bedridden.

this is for my 100 followers poll. it was supposed to be a oneshot but will be a mini series in 3 or 4 parts. this is my first time writing aegon and it will also be somewhat of a character study.

thank you for 100 followers and everyone who participated in the poll. love <3 thank you @randomdragonfires for beta reading, mwah mwah.

content: smut (specifics below cut), canon typical misogyny, canon typical violence, angst, fluff, arranged marriage, touch-staved aegon, aegon isn't a r*pist in this au but he is still a bad person and has his vices, ofc and aegon need to go to therapy together, justice for jaehaera, awkward sex, kind of a slow burn

its been so long - the living tombstone • nobody - mitski

chapter specific warnings: awkward sex, p in v, virginity loss

Every day felt like a new restraint, a new button added to the collar choking around Aegon’s neck. He had done it– he had freed the realm of the false queen, his half-sister– and lost almost everything to do so. When did it end? When did he get to relax and run the realm as he saw fit, since they so intended to have them at the helm. He wore the conqueror’s crown, wielded his sword and bore his name and yet he couldn’t do as the conqueror actually did. Rule. He felt more like a dog than a dragon these days; but that was just a pattern in his life. They wanted him when they needed him and he was to shoulder their burdens as eldest son.

His grandsire kept breathing down his neck to secure another wife, another heir, another alliance brokered with another pompous house. 

“Listen to me, Aegon,” Otto began, his fingers laced together as he sat at his desk. He had summoned Aegon to the Tower of the Hand– he was summoning the King, rather than the King summoning him. Somehow, his council had let Otto weasel his way back into the position of Hand, Aegon’s mother in tears, pleading for it. There wasn’t anyone else fit for the job since Criston had died– and he was never really fit for it anyhow. “We must move quickly to provide you with a new wife. The realm won’t remain stable if we tarry in producing an heir for the throne.”

Aegon sat in the seat across from him, feeling more like a child than a King. He twisted the signet ring on his pinky finger. “It’s too soon. It would be an insult to Helaena.” he replied, not looking up at Otto. Helaena had only passed a few moons earlier and the wound was still fresh for all of them. Aegon never loved her like a wife– how could he, they were too different, too young– but he cared deeply for her as his sister and the mother of his children. Even thinking about taking another wife this soon felt like a betrayal. He would be like his father then.

A small huff and a rustling of papers was heard– Aegon was still too distracted by his signet ring, the thin light filtering through the half drawn blinds, causing a small glint off of the bronzed metal. He didn’t want to look up to see the expression on his grandsire’s face, he knew it was one of disappointment. Aegon couldn’t remember the last time that someone hadn’t looked at him with contempt, disappointment, melancholy. 

“You must understand. You have a duty to the realm–” 

“Fucking duty– don’t speak to me of it. I’ve done my duty for enough lifetimes. I let you put me on the throne and usurp my sister and look where that’s gotten us? Everyone is fucking dead, Otto. Jaehaerys, Maelor, Helaena, Aemond,” he paused for a moment, lifting his head up to meet the Hand’s gaze head on, “Rhaenyra, Rhaenys, Jacaerys, Lucerys, Joffrey– do I need to proceed? The majority of our bloodline is wiped out because of you and your ambition.”

Otto snorted, standing up from his desk slowly. He grabbed a decanter of wine, pouring them both a goblet. “You misunderstand. Everything I’ve done has been… for our family’s legacy– for the realm,” he placed the glass stopped back into the carafe, “Don’t you dare act as if I am not hurting for the loss of family– but war is war, boy. People die. It is unfortunate that… the ones close to us did. But we can’t live with our head in the clouds any longer, there is a realm to run and the crown comes with responsibilities. A wife and heir are one of those paramount responsibilities.”

“I have an heir. I still have one remaining child– Jaehaera is my heir. I deem it.” he spoke quickly, staring at the goblet of wine. He had reduced his intake of alcohol since the war ended– but the need for it was always there, always aching. He suddenly felt parched. Giving Otto a haughty stare, he took a sip from the glass, feeling his muscles instantly relax.

“Don’t be daft– have you so quickly forgotten what happened when the King last named a female heir?”

“It wasn’t that Rhaenyra was a woman, Otto. People would’ve learned to adjust if…” Aegon took another sip, clearing his throat, “If she hadn’t been infatuated with her freak of an uncle, you would’ve been able to control her easier, hm? It's always been you and mother behind the crown these past two decades– not me, nor my father.”

“It’s more complicated than that,” Otto griped back, gripping his glass, “Don’t speak of things you know nothing about. Rhaenyra–” he stopped, taking a breath, “Rhaenyra is dead. They’re all dead, you’re right. But there is still the whole of the Seven Kingdoms requiring a leader, especially now. A leader with a united front with a queen and babe. I won’t argue further on this matter.”

Aegon acquiesced. He would rather deal with Otto’s venomous viper tongue talking him into things he didn’t want to do now instead of his mother visiting him hours later in hysterics– he couldn’t bear it. Alicent was more of a mess now than ever. “Fine. I leave this in your very capable hands,” he stood up, swiping the whole jug of wine, “At least find me a pretty one.”

–

She was plain, unbelievably plain. Long, curled brown hair desperately in need of a trim, a poorly tailored dress that needed to be more fitted at the waist, stature too small and unremarkable to stand up to anyone of importance. Oh, and picked cuticles, the spots of red eking out from her nail beds. Mayhaps she and his mother would get along just jolly, then. She was to be his prospective wife and bear him more heirs. He wanted to shove it back in the council’s face and say he has an heir, his only living child, Jaehaera. Melancholy and withdrawn as she was, she was his heir.

The council disagreed, allowing Borros Baratheon to shove his last unwed daughter at him like a piece of meat that no one wanted.

Her eyes wafted up to glance at him, every move of hers uncertain, cautious. She was so deathly aware of each minute gesture, her posture having to be adjusted to straighten every few minutes. 

Lyanna Baratheon wasn’t of prominent knowledge and reputation like her sisters, aptly named ‘the Four Storms’ – she didn’t remind Aegon at all of a stag or a doe, but rather something more diminutive and easily killed, like a prey animal. Mayhaps a rabbit– it would be an apt description, as she had giant eyes, brown –almost black– in their hue, a shiny glaze over them as she stared at the ground. Every so often, their eyes would meet, brown to violet, and she would look apt as Aegon thought she was.

A rabbit begging for its life.

Borros Baratheon stood beside her, murmuring something into her ear. He was a boorish oaf of a man who couldn’t even read– Aegon wasn’t the brightest star in the sky when it came to matters of literature, that’d always been his brother’s realm, but atleast he could fucking read. He thought it quite hysterical that his house sigil was that of a Stag when Lord Borros reminded him more of a boar. Mayhaps he should change it. 

As he continued to whisper to his daughter, her expression went from sordid to panicked, then back to sordid. She wasn’t very good at masking her emotions– she would need to learn if she were to survive at the Keep. The tips of her fingers twitched slightly and she was obviously holding herself back from tearing into her nail beds. 

“Lord Borros,” Aegon broke the tension, “Perhaps I should show your daughter around the gardens while you speak with my grandsire. We have the most beautiful gardens here and I’d imagine that Storm’s End wouldn’t have something quite as grand,” he glazed over Borros’ blank stare, “due to the storms, of course.” 

Lord Baratheon adjusted his doublet, which was far too small for him— did the Stormlands not have a proper fucking tailor? — and nodded, “Yes, that would be amicable. It would do some good to familiarize yourself with one another before the wedding in a week’s time.” 

Aegon’s throat felt parched. He knew that they were speeding things along but he didn’t anticipate it to be this fast. Grabbing a bottle of wine from a nearby servant, he descended back to Lyanna, intent on whisking her away as quickly as possible. Not because he found her particularly interesting, rather the opposite, but he needed an excuse to get out of the room. The insistent thrum of his pulse in his neck was all too loud. His arm looped under Lyanna’s, “Come, my lady,” he hummed, trying to seem like he was somewhat collected and kingly and not on the edge of chugging the entire carafe of wine and smashing it over the next poor fucker’s head. “To the gardens.” 

He practically strung along the poor girl, who hurriedly agreed and tried her best to keep up. “Y-yes, your grace,” she mewled, her feet tapping on the ground at irregular rhythms as she hung onto Aegon’s arm, bouncing against the stone walkway toward the gardens, “King’s Landing is… very beautiful, my king– your subject must be very pleased.”

As they descended the cobbled steps down to the garden, Aegon eyed her warily, “Did your father tell you to say that?”

“N-no, not exactly–” 

“He did. Anyone with half of a brain and a working nose knows that this accursed city smells of shit. You shouldn’t lie, my lady. You’re quite bad at it,” he took a small breath as he looked at her expression– the poor thing was on the verge of tears. “You will get better in time,” he continued with a slightly softer tone, “This Keep is full of great liars and you don’t seem… too much like your father. I am sure you will pick up quickly. How old are you?”

“Nineteen, your grace.” 

Aegon resisted giving a derisive snort, instead uncorking the wine bottle and tossing the stopper into the grass, “You’re quite young, then,” he took a swig, feeling the bitter tasting liquid coat his mouth, “All the better for heirs. Or so I’m sure that we’ve both been told.” 

In truth, some would consider her a bit late in age to be married– but Aegon didn’t care as long as he wasn’t robbing the cradle like his father did to his mother, or Daemon to Rhaenyra. He was twenty-six himself and tried to remember what he was like when he was nineteen; he couldn’t exactly pinpoint an exact memory. It was mostly a blur.

“I am… hopeful to provide you with many healthy heirs, my king,” she replied, her words sounding rehearsed. She is as poor of an actress as she is a liar, then. She paused for a moment, looking at her hands, “I… do not wish to replace the late queen, her grace, Helaena– I merely wish to fulfill my duty to the realm and my family– I am terribly… sorry to hear about Helaena, my king. As well as your prince brothers. War is a terrible thing.”

Aegon blinked profusely a few times. Her words after her pause sounded genuine– mayhaps she is capable of thinking for herself. She seemed… softhearted, even if a bit naive. He regarded the bottle in his hand for a moment, swishing it around. No one had really apologized to him for his losses– the enumerable amount of them he’s gone through these past few years. They all bowed their heads and wouldn’t meet his gaze, as if their blood was all on his hands. Mayhaps it was. He swallowed, his mouth pursed in a thin line, “... War is indeed a terrible thing, my lady.”

They walked for a few hours around the garden, talking about various things. Aegon still found her quite boring and uninteresting to look at– she wasn’t ugly by any means, and could be considered pretty, but she was just so terribly plain that it bored him to tears. Her speech was all faux and he tried to eek out any genuineness to her words through different subjects– all to no avail. It seemed the sore subject of Aegon’s family was the only thing to break her from her carefully crafted script.

Eventually, they parted ways– for the better, he thought. She was a fine match, a fine age, a fine vessel for his seed to produce a royal heir and whatever other innocuous thing his grandsire needed from him. 

What a terribly dreadful life he’s let himself sink into.

That night, he drained two bottles of Dornish Red, falling much into the same state of mind he had when he was nineteen. Wandering to the Street of Silk, he whored and drank himself into a state of sloven mania.

In the midst of his drunken ramblings, he wondered if he could ever find someone who would truly love him or if his opportunity had already passed.

– 

The wedding followed in the timeline that Borros and Otto had set– as quickly as possible. The council dipped into the coffers to make it happen, it was to be an extravagant event, a new beginning for the realm. Artisans, fine bakers and cooks were all hired to make the wedding a facet, stringing up red, green, yellow and black banners, making dozens of delicate pastries and even cooking six turduckens to line the tables.

It was all lavish and opulent– and Lyanna could not feel more out of place. The past week at the Keep had been a whirlwind of planning, gown fittings, flower picking. Her sisters were there in attendance, speaking up more than she on what to pick. It was fine with her, as she couldn’t bring herself to care for it. The gaudiness of it all made her feel ill. 

She had only met with Aegon the one time, the first time. Lyanna felt she made a terrible impression— she was so nervous that day that she’d vomited twice that morning, all while her father screamed at her to get it right, to say exactly as he told her to. For the most part, she had done just that— played the perfect little puppet for him and said all those empty words that meant nothing. 

She was meant to see Aegon at least three more times before the wedding, as there were a few dinners arranged between their two families. He had been absent for all, his mother citing that he was unable to attend for various reasons but nothing overtly specific.

Alicent Hightower was a nice lady— she was warm to Lyanna, talking to her at the dinners when no one else had bothered. She was the person who Lyanna felt most comfortable with in the Keep and was grateful that she was to be her good-mother. Alicent was a bit frayed at the ends from the loss of her other children; she was haunted, her eyes constantly red-rimmed and murmuring prayers under her breath. 

The morning of the wedding, Lyanna was summoned to Alicent’s solar to get ready. 

She knocked on the door, “Your grace— it’s Lyanna.”

“Come in, my dear,” she called out, a maid opening the door to let her in. “How are you feeling this morn?” Alicent was perched on the settee when Lyanna came in, and immediately rushed over to her, taking the young girl’s hands in hers. 

“Quite nervous,” Lyanna responded, her hands quivering ever so slightly, even under the warm touch of Alicent. “May I speak plainly, your grace?” 

“Of course,” she ushered Lyanna to the loveseat and had the maid pour them both tea, then promptly shooed her out. “It’s just us now, speak your mind, sweetling.” 

“I-I am afraid that… Aegon will not like me. I fear I didn’t make a good first impression— he seemed quite bored of me.” 

Alicent took a sip of her tea, giving a small sigh. “I will do you the favor of not sugarcoating words and speak plainly like you have done with me. Aegon will not like you,” she pursed her lips into a thin line, twisting the signet ring on her finger, “Aegon is a creature of debauchery and sin— and you are a good, pious girl. You are like oil and water.” her brown eyes met Lyanna’s, her expression softening. The two women had a fast camaraderie, praying together each morning in the Sept. “You… may not love him, or even like him— but there is a duty upon you to fulfill. It is a burden we carry as women, my dear. We are always behest to the men in our lives,” she stopped, her eyes glazing over with a far-away look, “I don’t mean to be discouraging. You are a… good hearted young woman and I believe you can channel that into something positive as the Queen.” 

Lyanna felt her stomach quivering at Alicent’s words, her skin flushing. “I… appreciate your plain speech, your grace. I just… do not wish to displease him.”

Alicent’s mouth twitched at each end as if she were mulling something over. “It will be hard to please him, my dear. You are nothing like the women that usually please him,” she wiped a hand down her face, “You remind me so much of myself, Lyanna. Pushed into something you are… ill-suited for. You’re a sweet and kindhearted girl and I don’t wish for you to tear yourself apart on the inside and feel as if you’re not good enough for him– you are, you are too good for him, too pure, too-” Alicent took a measured breath, “You are not what he wants and you never will be, my dear. It will do you well to know that now rather than years later. There is always someone else in their eyes– women like you and I do what we can. I pray you will find things that keep you happy.”

Lyanna picked up her tea cup with trembling hands, taking a sip. There seemed to be more to Alicent’s words than them just being about Aegon– but she didn’t want to push it. Dipping her head, she thanked her good-mother-to-be once more.

– 

“Wake up, wake up!” a voice boomed, rousing Aegon from his haze as a carafe of cold water was poured on him. The girl latched to his cock like a leech let out a shrill scream and scrambled away.

“Fucking hell– who the fuck?” Aegon slurred, blinking profusely half a dozen times before his vision came into focus. It was one of the Kingsguard, one more behest to his grandsire than him– and his grandsire, Otto, who had the now empty container of water in hand.

“Wake up, you ingrate,” Otto growled, grabbing his grandson by his collar, hoisting him up onto his feet, smacking his cheek gently. “Your wedding is in two hours and you’re passed out in a whorehouse. You’re the king, for the Seven’s sake– I thought you left this debauchery behind, atleast have your whores at the keep instead of being in these pits of sin.” 

“You can put a number of different hats on a bear, you know,” Aegon slumped against the wall, “Many kinds of hats; a hood, a felted dante, a linen coif, a cowl, a straw hat, a jester’s garb– heh, that’d be quite funny–” 

“Is there a point to your drunken babbling, Aegon?”

“Yes, ah– you can put many types of hats on a bear and change its look but at the end of the day, its still just a fucking bear,” he straightened out his stained tunic, “Point being– you can stick a crown on my head, put a sword in my hand and put me through a war to keep me on that fucking throne but guess what, grandsire, I am still just a bear at the end of the day.”

Otto stared at him, brow furrowed. “You aren’t a bear, you’re a dragon and a king, so act like it. You are getting married in two hours and you look like a sloven mess. You’re lucky that Borros is as blind for power and recognition as he is or he would take his daughter back to Storm’s End and you’ll be stuck with the next best choice.” 

“That boring rube of a girl was my best choice? I must be fucked, then, either way.”

Otto and his Kingsguard dog dragged Aegon back to the keep, and observed while maids scrubbed him clean, red and raw. He was put in a nicely fit green suit, his House cloak strapped to his shoulders. It was a whirlwind of events that led up to the doors of the Sept being opened and Aegon ushered in.

His stomach churned and he felt sixteen again, forced to wed his sister. He remembered being hardly conscious throughout the ceremony, fumbling over his cloak and practically smothering Helaena in it.

He looked down the aisle at Lyanna, who was dressed in a pale yellow dress with long, flowing sleeves. She had a high collar with black lining and antler embroidery all over the garment. It was actually well fitted this time, likely thanks to his mother, and it turned out she actually had a figure, with plush hips and a well-endowed chest. Her brown hair was half up, half down with an assortment of intricate braids– it reminded him of how Rhaenyra used to wear her hair and he wondered who thought to style it like that, and he wondered if he was the only one who noticed.

As he walked down the aisle, he saw his mother in the front row– she was crying, thumbing a pendant in the shape of a Seven Pointed Star. 

The ceremony was a blur to him, as he put the cloak over her shoulders and sealed their union with a kiss– a chaste one. She tasted like lavender tea. As he pulled back, he noticed that her eyes were rimmed with tears, and he felt the familiar sting of tears in his own eyes.

The feast was much the same, as he drank himself into a numbing stupor. He only had one moment of clarity, as some of the rowdy guests began to poke and prod at Lyanna, talking about the bedding ceremony. She looked visibly uncomfortable, picking at her nail beds under the table. Something about the sight of her discomfort and pain stirred something in Aegon that he couldn’t name– maybe he was feeling sentimental from the alcohol, but a surge of possessiveness flowed through him. He wasn’t known to be possessive, much the opposite in fact. But the egregious actions of these men pawing at his wife– their fucking queen, mind them– making disgusting insinuations. If she were a whore, it’d be different– but she was so… innocent, so coerced in all of this just as he was, it felt wrong. 

Aegon snapped, slamming his cup down, “There won’t be any fucking bedding ceremony,” he growled, “My wife and I will be retiring to our chambers– alone. And if… any one of you lays another paw on her, you will lose it.”

Lyanna stared at Aegon, those huge brown eyes wide. Her lips were parted slightly as he once again strung her along the halls to his– no, their– chambers. She was shaking.

Once in their chambers, he let go of her, uncorking another bottle of wine and taking a swig. “I presume you think that this is where I will fuck you, hm? Stick my prick in you and make an heir and we will all live happily ever after like a child’s storybook.”

Lyanna stared down at her feet. “It… it would be… the duty of husband and wife to consummate–”

“Fuck duty! I’m not going to fuck some weepy eyed maiden because my old fuck grandsire said so. I don’t have need of you in that way.”

Her hands were trembling as she unlaced the back of her dress, her movements autonomous– she was doing what she thought she should be doing in this situation. She began to undress, slipping her gown off and leaving her in her silken shift, which didn’t leave much to the imagination. The sight of her body, soft, stirred something within him for a moment, like a spark trying to ignite kindling.

“We don’t have to do this, Lyanna,” he murmured, using her name for the first time. He put down the wine bottle. “We can wait.”

“N-no! Please, I want to– please,” Lyanna whispered, practically pleading for it, as if she wanted to get it over with. “Please.”

Aegon rubbed a hand down his face. “Get on the bed then. Lie on your stomach.”

She did as she was told, laying flat on the bed on her stomach. She clutched some pillows as a lifeline.

He knew he should warm her up, he knew that they should want to touch one another, he should want to see her face– but he didn’t. He couldn’t bear to look at her face, or touch her for longer than was necessary. He barely shimmied down his trousers before he began poking at her entrance with a half-hard cock, partially trying to give her a moment to get used to the sensations, and partially trying to find where he was supposed to stick it– he knew, of course, he’d fucked his way through King’s Landing and then some, but he hadn’t fucked many maidens, and especially not when he was blind drunk.

Eventually, he hit home and slid into her, his movements slow at first. He could hear her whimpers and knew they weren’t of pleasure. It reminded him of his wedding night with Helaena where they’d both cried– all the memories of that night came flooding back, causing him to falter.

Lyanna looked back at him, her eyes puffy and red, “I-Is it over?” 

Aegon swallowed sharply, cringing as he stared at her. The moment of arousal he had– purely from stimulation alone– was gone now, his half-hard erection deflating completely. “Fuck– yes, it’s over.” he didn’t have the heart to tell her that it in fact had hardly started before it was over– and not in the good way. He pulled out of her, taking in a deep breath as he walked to the water basin and soaked a cloth with warm water, offering it to her. “Wipe yourself– it will help with the… pain… and blood.” 

She took the cloth, wiping away the remnants of their half-fulfilled consummation. “I-I’m… sorry,” Lyanna whispered, sniffling, “I know I am not what you want.” 

His mouth was pulled into a thin line as he turned away. “You’re right. You aren’t.”

They fell into bed next to each other and Aegon’s mind was swimming as he tried to sleep. He didn’t know what he wanted. He never wanted any of this– he just wanted to be a kid again with no responsibilities, with all of his siblings, even Rhaenyra– he would’ve… he would’ve been nicer to all of them, he wouldn’t of picked on Aemond, he would’ve gotten to know Rhaenyra better, he would’ve played with Helaena’s bugs, he would’ve taught Daeron all of the secrets of the castle. He would’ve told his grandsire to fuck off when they were to crown him and had Sunfyre char him to a crisp and given the crown to Rhaenyra.

He would’ve been loved then.

He just wanted to be loved.

[penvisions]

of beskar and kyber {chapter 16}

Pairing: Din Djarin x Force Sensitive! Reader (the Mandalorain x Force Sensitive! Reader)

Summary: Three planets allow for you to make good memories with your newly establish clan. And one that rips it all away.

Word Count: 10.5k

Warnings: reader has an official name used for plot points, nicknames and pet names(all in Mando'a), canon typical violence, canon typical language, canon typical fighting and conflict, star wars and basic swear words (we use them like sprinkles here), mando'a language, mentions of self-harm scars, angst, emotional conversations, confessions, unwanted advances, creepy guys being creepy guys, fighting, threatening language, attempted kidnapping, stalking, fleeing from officers, resisting arrest, reader and din are wanted criminals y'all, sexual content, adult content, description of the male body (ahem), slight body worship, fingering, oral (m receiving), feelings, so many feelings, argumentative language, miscommunication, perceived rejection, fear of intimacy, abandonment trauma, sa trauma, ptsd trauma,. if i missed any please let me know and i'll add them!

A/N: a huge thank you to everyone who participated in this poll to theorize what the next arc holds in store for your lil clan! from here on out, the next 3-5 (ish chapters) will be an all-original arc. this one ends...um, yeah, please don't me mad at me, it's all for a good reason *literally runs away after posting and hides under her bed covers

ao3 || series masterlist || main masterlist || ko-fi

‘Your eyes were heavy with sleep, the bunk dark in the late hour of the day. You roused yourself from the blankets at the sounds of chatter outside the door of your shared room. You were feeling trembles in the Force, which had jolted you awake despite your body demanding to rest for longer. Your mind was foggy as you pulled on your tan coat over your simple black attire of a loose shirt and slim pants, the soles of your boots silent on the floor as you padded carefully to the door. You didn’t recognize the voices, but you were sure there were plenty of individuals you hadn’t had the chance to meet yet. You had only been here in the city for a few years, having been found to be in touch with the Force at the age of five, your mother sending you off with the nice man who had kept watching you while you helped to sell baked goods and local harvest back on K’ath.

You had been idly moving seashells about the stall, garnering the attention of a few Jedi visiting there on business and the course of your life was determined from there.

The sound of blasters, of gunfire, of explosions and the combatant sounds of light sabers was a cacophony of noise the closer you got to the door. Shouts and orders were being yelled, and it spiked anxiety in you. You quickly backed from the door and gathered your pack you had brought with you all those years ago. You shoved a second set of clothes, your pouch of credits you used sparingly, and the photo of your mother you had kept underneath your pillow. You had just received your official saber after spending the last week mining your crystal, when it was announced that you were to become a padawan come the end of the month, waiting for your assignment and master for training.’

The city was crowded, people rushing all around, running from the Temple and the surrounding gardens, outdoor training areas, and meditation spaces. It was loud, the sound of blasters and shouting a  roar in your ears as you tried to hide wherever you could squeeze yourself into, rushing off in sprints the second the coast was clear. Reaching up for the communication cuff you had stolen off of one of the dead bodies in the hall, you scrambled to punch in the chain code given to you back on your home planet.

It was silent as you requested a call, hope plummeting as it dropped. Once. Twice, three times.

But then it pinged, far too loudly and you heard a shout to search the gardens.

“How did you get this contact?” His voice sounded exactly the same and you thanked the Maker you had remembered his code correctly. He was your only hope, he was the only person you knew outside of those whose bodies you had seen laying all over the Temple. Taking a breath, you tried to talk as clearly as you could, brain scrambling to remember how the grammar worked for his language.

“Nuhunla jag, bic's ni.  Teh K'ath. Te kih beskar'gam adiik. Ni linibar gar gaa'tayl, gedet’ye.”

Funny man, it’s me. From K’ath. The little armor girl. I need your help, please.’

The ship was silent.

Din was seated at the makeshift table in the hold space, helmet placed on the top of it, amid the open med pack. Bandages and bacta spray cannisters spread out before him. He had finally managed to rid himself of the throbbing headache that had grown since yesterday. He had tended to you first, after getting the ship back on route, running at half power due to the engine you had blown in the wake of your emotional outburst. It was set on course toward a mid-rim planet where he could get the engine repaired. Toward Tatooine.

The door to his personal quarters was cracked open, allowing for the hush of blankets shifting to whisper out into the open space he occupied. Soft padding of your bare feet on the floor urged him into a too fast motion to reach for his helmet. But his body complained about the reach, head throbbing harshly despite the application of bacta he had just finished on his tender head. The back of it was sensitive to the touch, thick scab underneath his gently probing fingers.

“Wait.” He called out, hoping you could hear him as he gasped it out.

All movement on the other side of the door stopped. You would’ve listened to him even if he wasn’t about to announce that he was without his helmet. But he decided to be honest with you, to take the opportunity to bear his injuries with humility rather than hubris. To admit that he wasn’t well.

“My helmet, I removed it to tend to my injury.”

“I…don’t think I can put it back on just yet. Too painful.”

“…okay.”

“Do you need to…use the fresher?”

“No, I just…I was going to look for you. To…apologize.”

“There’s nothing to apologize for.”

“I yelled at you.” You admitted quietly, ashamed that you had, though in the moment it felt justified. It felt like it was the only way to get your voice to work through the tumultuous offense of emotions from the day’s events. From what they meant.

“And I yelled back.”

“Are we….okay?”

“…yes. I want us to be, mesh’la.”

The ship was silent. His ears straining to hear any sound you might make as you stay motionless just on the other side of the door. You had rested your forehead against the metal of it, hands curled just below, supporting yourself on sore legs. Sighing, you opted for an easy question to bridge the weird silence.

“H-how long was I out for?”

“Two days, I tended to your smaller wounds when I changed you into clean clothes.”

“Thank you….”

“I have your armor out here, I cleaned the blaster powder off of it. Shined it for you, too.”

When you didn’t respond, a deep sigh bridged the gap.

“I know we need to talk about what happened. But…mesh’la you got so upset so quickly. And I know you didn’t meant to….but you threw me across the hold. And-“

“Did I hurt you? Did I scare you?” The words rushed from you, thoughts swirling l as you tried to recall those last moments of consciousness. But you couldn’t, they were a blur, all cloaked in emotions too intense and a surge of energy ran through you. Shuddering, you tried to tamp them down, not wanting to repeat the charged display.

“Yes, a little. To both.” The rasp of his voice confessed, stilling your heart as you realized you had done the one thing you were worried about. Especially in the wake of his injuries, his willingness to sacrifice himself for even a chance of everyone getting away safely.

You clenched your eyes shut tight, face feeling like it had been exposed to the cold for too long. Prickly and numb all at the same time.

“I know it wasn’t intentional.”

“That doesn’t matter. I still-“ A sob burst from your chest, masking the sound of Din getting up from where he had been. One of his hands snuck through the space of the cracked door, long fingers reaching for you. They brushed against your bare arm, circling around it and holding on in the only way he could a the moment.

“Please don’t cry, mesh’la. I’m okay.”

“Din…” You warbled, tears flowing and regret warming you from the inside out. Through a hiccup, you voiced your remorse. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s…it’s okay. I swear to you. We’re okay.” His hand squeezed your arm and you wanted nothing more than to curl into his chest and bury your face into his neck.

But for the time being, you gave the man his space, his privacy. Knowing the conversation to be had would be in small pockets, a lot for both of you to get into at all once.

Tatooine was the obvious choice for the repairs, you had agreed when Din told you of the route he had calculated. Requesting the hanger that Pelli resided in upon entering the atmosphere and talking with the dispatch team for air control. She was already waiting before the ramp had completely leveled out and settled, recognizing the ship. It took more concentration from Din to land the Crest, manually controlling every aspect as the landing gear had gone offline as one of the engines faltered and then failed. Another ramification of your outburst.

“Well, if it isn’t Mando! What did you do this time, you’ve got an entire engine out!”

“Doesn’t matter, will you be able to fix it?”

“Why, of course!” Her voice was loud, booming in the space of her hangar. Moving at a slightly slower pace, you walked down the ramp. A gasp falling from her lips as she noticed the beskar you now donned, the matching signets attached to the pauldrons.

“I was just jokin’ around last time, but the matching do-hickeys gotta mean she’s your girl, right?”

Helmet turning, the dark visor looked you over. Taking in the full visage of you in the armor that had been a gift, the shining metal making pride swell in his sternum. Neither of you responded to her teasing, opting to distract her with the presence of ad’ika. He was taking big, swinging steps down the ramp, looking adorable in his newly stitched outfit. Din had surprised you one morning, seated at the table with the child dressed in nothing but his underwear as his fingers worked a thread and needle through the burlap tunic. He had taken the time after some consideration and decided to turn the open ended tunic into a jumpsuit, allowing for ad’ika’s legs to move easier. He had tripped over the loose, open hem one too many times in an attempt to run from the running water in the fresher sink that signaled a bath for him.

It had both you and Din suppressing laughter, much to the pouting of the child.

“Oh Maker, there he is!” Pelli was respectful enough not to board the ramp, crouching down at the end of it and making grabby hands with her arms reaching out.

After a rather entertaining attempt at pleading her case for babysitting, your trio set off into town. You had a large pack secure on your shoulders, full of pieces to sell to pay for the repairs needed on the Crest. Din had been in no condition to take any jobs from Karga upon departure, nor had he wanted to immediately jump back into the time-consuming hunting in wake of his responsibility to find an appropriate guardian for ad’ika.

“Patu!” Ad’ika exclaimed from his snug position in the canvas bag around your shoulders. He was resting against your hip, hands reaching for a brightly colored gelatine…thing displayed on a vendors table amid a variety of local fruit.

“Patu? Ad’ika, what in the- is that a word?” Side-eyeing Din, you gathered a few fruits as well, making sure to get the ones a small claw pointed to along with some that looked interesting to you. Plus the one he already had picked up and taken a bite out of.

“Not that I know of.”

“How many languages can you speak, while we’re on the subject?”

“We weren’t, really. But it would be…quite a few.”

“Except for Jawa.” You snorted, recalling the broken words he tried to exchange with the scavenging people what seemed like so long ago now. But you were beginning to look back on that time of your life not with an air of frustration but consideration. The compound you had been stolen away to leading you to the life you currently led. Maybe there was still an echo of frustration, of personal failure for not being aware that day in town. Of having let your guard down while on a rare supply run into one of the few cities scattered within the vast sands of Tatooine.

But….for all the bad that had occurred from that one instance of capture, the things you had to endure and the feeling of losing all hope for a life of even moderate freedom. Of life itself. For everything that had happened to you while at that compound, it was a chapter of your life. You could let it taint you, poison you. And you had, for so long.

Now…now there was hope and the notion that it had all led to the present. Aboard a ship with two people you trusted and cared for. And it was all you could do, to not be consumed by it.

“Jawa is pointless, speaking to them in their native language or another yields the same results.” He turned the question on you, his curiosity peaked just as yours had been.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” Attention only half on the wall of armor he made, you turned with a handful of credits to the man keeping watch over his wares. He passed back the difference with a frown, eyes trailing over you in an uncomfortable manner.

“A kid with me would look better than whatever type of creature that is.” A suggestive grin broke out across his face. His hand snatching out in an attempt to grab at your own. “Should ditch the suit and spend some time with me.”

Before you could even think of a response other than to take an offended and disgusted step back, Din was blocking your line of sight. His fist was around the vendor’s neck, lifting him from the ground a few inches as he leaned in threateningly.

“My helmet must be malfunctioning, because I’m pretty sure you didn’t just insult my vencuyot riduur right in front of me.” He didn’t so much say the words as growled them, pleasure blooming between your legs at the implication of his words and his instant defensiveness. You were more than capable of handling yourself and had proven as such to him, but for Din to raise his hackles and snap at this man was…endearing in the filthiest of ways.

Future wife.

“Since we’re on the subject, your pronunciation is very good. But some words seem to have slightly different meanings almost.” Shoving the vendor away from him, the man stumbled down, disappearing from view. It took your brain a second to catch up and realize that Din had been speaking to you. When he tilted his helmet to the side a bit, you mimicked him. With a modulated chuckle, he guided you with a hand on the small of your back further into the marketplace and repeated his words.

“We weren’t really.” You stuck your tongue out at him, prompting the child to imitate you with an adorable giggle. Din altered his next step to brush his shoulder against yours, pauldrons clinking softly and jostling you. When your foot faltered, he used the hand still around you to pull you close. “You grew up on Concordia, no?”

“Correct.”

“Well, Mando’a is an agglutinative language. It’s built on itself, two words becoming one over time, helping to bridge the different dialects, or simply to condense the language. So you speak Concordian, which is a different dialect than what I leaned from Akiz. He had been raised on Mandalore and that’s where we spent a few years hidden from the Empire’s forces.”

“You- you lived on Mandalore?” Static over the modulator relayed the force of his words, taken off guard by your casual revelation about your past. You paused, turning to face him fully, eyes focusing on the visor with a furrowed brow.  

“Y-yeah, is that…I thought I told you?”

“No…that’s- mesh’la, that’s-“ You swore you could hear the swallow he took to compose himself, words jumbled in his mind and in his mouth. “New.”

“Wait, did you never-?”

“The fighting corps were on Concordia. I didn’t leave unless it was for training and then we had to flee, go into hiding.”

“Ner kar’ta, I’m so sorry. It was such a beautiful planet. And you- you’re one of the most devout Mandalorian’s I’ve ever met, you deserved to have seen it in its prime.”

After a few more shared streets, looking over the things offered by the local vendors, you parted ways.

You set off in the direction of an armory you had once sold to, run out of someone’s personal abode, attached to a warehouse that allowed them to house a kiln, forge, and space for a considerable collection of wares for sale. The armored man going off to search for any signs of Mandalorians that had fled Navarro.

Now making your way slowly through the town, walking through the door streets the way you had come with your escort earlier, a successful sale of the pieces you had crafted during the time it took to travel here under your belt.

An apple rolled over the toes of your boots, garnering your attention. Following the path it must’ve taken with your eyes and then seeing a few more bouncing and rolling away in other directions, you noticed a woman struggling to get her hand back from the same vendor who had tried to do the exact thing to you.

“Hey! Leave her alone, creep!” Swift steps and you were prying the young woman’s arm from the vendors crushing grip. Maker, she couldn’t have been much older than her teens. The blaster holstered to the back of your hips was raised and pointed at the man, his hands reaching for his own but far too slow.

“Did you pay him?” You asked her over your shoulder, seeing the fruit that had flown from her basket at the man’s advances.

“N-no, I was about to when he grabbed me.”

“Gather what you want and then go home.”

“You don’t get to decide that!”

“I think you’ve done enough to her, the least you could do is take the loss of a single transaction.”

“You didn’t pay either, your Mando,” He spat the word out. “Took the payment back for your stuff as well.”

“Then maybe you should stop harassing your customers.”

Suddenly, a woman appeared behind him and knocked the blaster from where he had been reaching for it, frozen over the holster at the sight of yours already raised.

“Alright, let’s break it up.” She was tall and held the air of someone with authority. The shine of the sun on a badge pinned to her front had you lowering your weapon. Not wanting to complicate things further, you holstered it and turned to help the poor woman who had been harassed. She was scurrying around and picking up the fallen fruit.

The vendor slinked back behind his tables, beginning to gather all of his stuff up. Closing shop for the day and cutting his losses.

Once both were gone from the busy street, the woman approached you with a hand held out in greeting.

“Sioban, local official.”

“Sarad. Just passing through.”

“Oh don’t be that way, I’m not going to arrest you. C’mon let’s go grab a drink, you can tell me more about that Mandalorian armor you’re wearing. I’ve never seen such pure beskar.”

That’s how you found yourself opposite the friendly woman, pink drinks in both your hands and sharing traveling stories. She was kind, told you they didn’t have any signs of the type of struggle rumored to have occurred on the nearby planets. But she must’ve been a newly instated official, having no recollection of her from your past time spent on the dessert planet. You felt at ease with her, so alike to how you had been before, when you had traveled with Akiz. Curious, excited, wanting to know all there was to know. Even in wake of the knowledge and reality that you were on the run, but allowed the chance to be a child with a guardian to look after you and ensure your safety.

You must’ve lost track of time, because the quiet hush of the bar’s patrons silenced as a tall, broad figure appeared in the doorway. Visor scanning the crowd. It picked back up once he didn’t immediately stalk toward someone he was in search of, the patrons deeming him a visitor just like themselves. Upon seeing you, his steps picked up and he was beside the table you were seated at. The slight crook of his helmet beckoning you and calling you silently back to the ship.

“Indulge me, ner kar’ta.” You whispered into the side of his helmet, body leaning in close. The woman on the other side of the booth let a knowing smile overtake her delicate features as she realized who this man was to you. Not a controlling father or partner coming to fetch you, but a loved one simply catching up with you after an afternoon apart. “Just one more drink, then back to the ship.”

“Fine. But then we depart.”

“Sioban, this is…um, Mando-“ You looked to him, unsure if he was okay with you introducing him as such, at the nod of his helmet, you continued on. “Ner kar’ta, this is Sioban. She was kind enough to get me out of some potential trouble.”

“Thank you, for looking out for her.”

“You’re very welcome, Mando. She looked about ready to pummel the man, but he’s known for being involved with a local gang and I didn’t want her to have a mark on her back.”

“What happened?”

“That vendor from earlier was harassing a young girl, so I stepped in to intervene.”

A gurgling laugh burst into the air as ad’ika’s small head popped up from the bag around his shoulders.

“Oh! A baby!” Sioban squealed, leaning over the table to wiggle her fingers at him, prompting more carefree laughter. “I didn’t know you had a baby.”

“He’s cute, no?” You carefully wrangled him from the canvas and handed him to her, trusting that she wasn’t a threat. Ad’ika was a wiggling bundle in her arms, cooing and gurgling as he lavished the attention she was dotting on him. You moved aside for Din to settle into the booth, cramping you in the small space.

The walk from the bar in the city center back to the hangers in the outskirts was quiet, but comfortable. Ad’ika was on your shoulders, pointing his little claws up at the shooting stars streaking through the sky. You were both munching on a sweet hand pie from the bar, offering the small child bites you tore from the wrapping. A bite handed to him and then one for you, but the next one about to be popped from your mouth was stolen midair by a quick hand.

The hiss of the seal on Din’s helmet took you by surprise, the glimpse of his stubbled jaw even more so as he popped the bite of the pie into his own mouth. The flash of a plush bottom lip stole your attention, hidden away as quickly as it had been exposed, but even so a bloom of desire flared to life in your gut. A claw tangling tight in your hair as you delayed the next bite pulled your attention away, a grunt of discomfort loud as you gently reprimanded him to be kind.

Feeling his own eyes sweep over you made it hard to concentrate on carefully tearing another bite from the pastry.

Future wife. Vencuyot riduur. Riduur.

Riduur.

Riduur.

For the rest of the trip back to the ship, you couldn’t quell the prickling of desire all over your body, arousal pooling between your legs. Fueled by the two drinks you had deemed an appropriate treat for the day. Once putting the passed out child in the hammock in the larger part of the hull space, Din joined you in the small cabin that was his personal quarters.

Din’s hands were soft over your thighs, fingers caressing the old scars born of anger and desperation set into your skin. The clothes you were wearing were too hot all of a sudden, heat and the prickling desire flaring all over. But you were so tired and all you could do was let out an appreciative groan as your lashes fluttered closed and your head lolled to the side atop your pillow.

“Din, ni kar'tayl gar darasuum.” The words were mumbled, slurred into the air on a puff of breath. A confession and an apology rolled into one sleepy sentiment. “Vencuyot riddur.”

I love you. Future husband.

Fingers stilling, they pressed to you, palms wide and gripping tight over your thighs, a hitch of breath given life through his helmet. Then his hands were moving up up up, over your middle, your chest, your neck. They were gentle as they cupped your face, but you didn’t move, allowing him to press the forehead of his helmet to your temple. The heat of his body hovering so close above you had your legs moving to wrap around his waist.

Insistent prodding of him hard and wanting against your hip ignited a strike of excitement through your middle to settle low in your stomach. Through the fog of fast approaching sleep, you tried to roll your hips against his, but you were suddenly tilting, body manipulated on your side and back pulled to his chest.

A rumble of a chuckle filled the small space was the last thing you remembered as sleep finally won over.

“We need to be quick, just a supply run and to see if there’s a covert on world.” Din’s words were quiet, mumbled. You only hummed in response, not even stirring when the man’s arms wrapped around your body and pulled you flush against him. The hard line of him in his underwear gently prodded at the small of your back.

That sent a bolt of pleasure down your stomach, his hand chasing it as he rested his palm against the skin of your navel. Before his fingers could delve underneath the waistband of your shorts, you were shifting in his grip to face him. You didn’t say anything as you began to place open mouthed kisses along his chest, his hands gripping you tight. His chest was so firm, the muscles of endless training molding him and tempting you to lavish attention.

You certainly weren’t too tired now, to indulge.

Hands ghosting up, you placed them flat and pushed. And it shouldn’t have sparked pleasure laced with an unbearable heat straight to your core as he allowed you to urge him on his back, but it did. The heady notion that he was allowing you to move him how you pleased lighting you up and desire pool low. You threw a leg over his thighs, straddling them low and leaned down to attach your lips to the column of his neck. He groaned out, crackling the speaker in his helmet and you smirked against his skin. Parting your lips, you licked a line up to the bottom of it before you sunk your teeth into the side of his throat. He jolted, entire body convulsing at the nip you were bold enough to place.

“Mesh’la-“

You shushed him with a puff of hot air, soothing the bite with your tongue before moving down down down.

Hands firm on his ribs, you nipped at each of his nipples, getting rewarded with twin grunts and a harsh jerk of his cock against your stomach. His thick fingers moved to tangle through your hair, before they were pulled suddenly away.

“Sorry, I didn’t-“

“Do not apologize,” You kissed into the skin of his stomach, reaching up for his hands that hovered just shy of touching. Moving them back to where they had been, you squeezed his wrists in a reassuring motion. “Din, if I don’t want you to do something or I’m uncomfortable, I will tell you.”

“Just…don’t want to be too forward…or rough.”

“You’re gonna need to hold onto something,” Mouth still trailing over him, you swirled your tongue around his belly button, stomach muscles twitching and he bucked up at the sensation of the heat that began to simmer just below. “When I get my mouth around your cock.”

“Shit, you have a mouth on you, huh? We ah really should –“ His words morphed into a low moan as your lips kissed the tip of him through the fabric. Mouthing gently at him, you felt your own body begin to spark. The thought of taking him fully in your mouth too temping to ignore. He had felt so delicious against you the two times you’d been intimate with him and you wanted to give him everything.

Mouth, indeed, you thought as you continued to mouth at him through the fabric, a wet spot sprouting.

Fingers locking in your hair, his head knocked back as you slid your hands around your face to hook fingers into the band of his underwear and pulled. His cock bobbed up, a quiet slap against his stomach, slick at the tip and hard.

Flattening your tongue, you dragged it up the underside of him, flicking it against the tip as you lifted your head. The visor was aimed down at you, but you could barely glimpse it in the shine of faint lights along the walls.

“This okay?”

“Fuck, it’s more than okay, mesh’la.”

Ducking back down, you felt his fingers clench in your hair. Breath ghosting over him before you took him in your hand, fisting him at the base. You knew he was big from feeling him against you, as he glided through your folds and rutted. But to have him in your hand, the heat of him, the pulsing felt against your palm, the musky scent of him. It was all so much and you wanted to take your time. But there was a niggling question in the back of your mind. Contemplating voicing it, you placed chaste kisses all along the length, you took a breath, feeling the weight of his tip against your bottom lip.

“Has-“

“No,” He growled out at the sight of you draped over his legs, mouthing at the most precious part of him. “You’re the only one, will be the only one.”

Your response was to wrap your lips around him, tongue collecting the shine of his arousal that was dribbling from his tip. Knuckles popping with the force of his grip, you swallowed him down with a hum.

Bubbling laughter and then a muted crash of something through the door broke the moment, attention pulled from him slowly as you ran your hands down his twitching stomach. Releasing him with a pop, you brushed tingling fingers against him, cupping his cock gently before you were gone completely from the bed.

“I’ll get him, ner kar’ta.” Your voice was smug, knowing he was internally battling two very different sets of instincts. “Hop in the fresher and take care of yourself.”

“He has the worst timing.”

“We can pick this up once he goes down for his nap later.” Were your parting words before the door hushed open and closed, leaving him alone in the darkness.

You pulled your hair up away from your face, face still heated from being pressed so closely to the furnace that Din was. But you masked it well, searching all around the ship for the little figure of ad’ika.

The clink of you lining up rings on the makeshift table roused him from his light slumber. Metallic sound prickling across his temples and stirring the low-grade headache he had laid down with last night into something stronger. Something that made it hard to focus. The scab was gone completely, in the weeks it took to stay on the move, traveling through hyperspace more often than being stationary on land these days. It had healed with the aid of routine bacta treatments and more time without his helmet. He had taken to spending nights up in the room he had se up for you, the hatch to the ladder securely closed to ensure his privacy up on the smaller second story of the ship.

You didn’t mind, wanting to respect his need for privacy. For a safe space to heal and take care of himself in a way that he hadn’t had to as of yet. His injury had been severe, almost stealing him away from you and it remained in the back of your mind. Remorse for having agitated it in a fit of emotion the very same day it occurred. Even with his reassurances that you hadn’t done too much to worsen it.

Seated at the makeshift table, you were finishing up the newest piece of chainmail for the small collection to be sold on the next planet. For fuel, for food, for more supplies. It didn’t matter what you needed, you wanted to ensure that there was a small build-up of credits for whatever your little trio might need. Your clan, now. The Armorer’s words stitched through your mind, through your heart.

“Meshla, I think I need to remain on the ship this time.” He was without his armor, dressed only in trousers and a long-sleeved shirt similar to the one you often slept in. All back and well worn, boots adorning his feet though he was slow in his movements. One look at him, the black visor, and you could tell by the stillness he had adopted since sitting opposite you. He wasn’t feeling well, something he wasn’t used to voicing.

“I don’t mind refueling and getting supplies.” You carefully began to put your tools away, wrapping them up in the cloth you had laid out atop the makeshift table to avoid making too much noise while he slept.

“The route says another couple of hours, you don’t have to put up your stuff just yet.”

“It’s okay, if your head is hurting, I don’t want to make it worse with constant noise.” Contemplating your next words, you didn’t want to offend the man across from you, but you worried…And you recalled the signets that had been worn by those injured in battle. To display the difficulty they might have with communication or mobility, for other Mandalorian’s to show they respects and act accordingly should the individuals need aid.

“Do we need to consider finding a welder?”

“Something for your armor? Or to sell to?”

“No, ner kar’ta, for… um a mir’shupur sigil for your armor?”

Brain injury. Disabled.

“No.” It was gruff, his voice holding none of the softness it adopted when speaking to you. He leaned his hands atop the makeshift table to stand.

“O-okay, I was just-“

“You should be as quick as possible, once we land.” His broad back was to you, muscles tense and steps slow as he walked away, shutting the conversation in more ways than one. You stayed in your seat well after he had disappeared. The tightness in your throat hurting as you tried to will the tears that had sprung up away. He wasn’t mad, you tried to reassure yourself. You had just spoken out of term, unthinkingly. That’s all, just a miscommunication. They were bound to happen.

You were halfway down the street when you heard a low murmur of chatter, turning slightly to feign interest in the food stall beside you, you caught a glimpse of orange and yellow. Officers. From the New Republic. Two of them were entering the storefront you had just left. Where you had just conducted business with the owners. They hadn’t asked after your name nor of where you had learned your skills, but they would most likely give a description if prompted.

Barely turning the corner to another street, is when a voice shouted aloud for you to stop.

Your quick steps broke out into a sprint, trying to put as much space between you and them before they gave chase.

“Hey! We’ve got a warrant out for you, stop!”

“Kriff.” You cursed, ducking beneath a pair of Verpine aliens as they carried beams of wood through the street. Dirt kicking up as you skidded to take a sudden turn down a narrow alley. Jumping onto the speeder parked in the small space, you reached for the roof and pulled yourself up. Breath huffing, you laid flat on your back, ears straining to listen for the officers.

“She must’ve gone this way, there’s a den known for housing criminals.”

“Alright, let’s go. Quick, before she gets off world.”

Their steps didn’t follow down the alley you had all but hurt your back to turn into, continuing on down the street until you couldn’t hear them anymore.

As you began to briskly walk through the residential streets, you sensed the attention of someone else focused on you. It made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. It was more concentrated than when Din had been a formidable figure at your side on previous planets. But you were more concerned with getting back to the ship, the officers only a few streets behind. Most likely still in pursuit.

Ignoring it since you didn’t have the time to turn the tables and stalk them in return, ambushing them and demanding to know why they were following you, you continued on. Thoughts focused on getting back to the outskirts of the small city where Din had opted to land the ship. The docking hangers sparse and spread out around the dense city.

“Ner kar’ta!” You called out as soon as the ramp to the ship was down, the hissing of the hydraulics sending a chill through you as you rushed up. You worried for a second you were being too loud, but you had picked up on the way the man was slower to respond since removing his helmet for long periods of time over travel. You suspected he was hard of hearing in one of his ears, a result of the charges he favored but definitely a side effect of his more recent injuries. “Ner kar’ta, can we run my chain code? I almost just got arrested and I wanna know why. I haven’t done anything the last six years except for travel with you.”

You didn’t hear any response, instead the ramp closed and the ship started up. Only when it was safely out of the planets atmosphere and a flight plan coordinated for hyperspace, did Din’s form appear as it came down the ladder.

Listening as he explained the puck he had received with information of you when he took the job of hunting you down so long ago had updated. Just as there was a warrant out for his arrest, there was one for you as well. For aiding in the escape of Qin, the job that Ran had set up and into motion. It wasn’t surprising, you had both been aboard the prisoner ship, abundant with cameras and security droids. But it was still worrying to have been noticed so closely.

That it would be easy for any bounty hunter or local official or officer to be able to recognize you now.

Din retreated to the cot, leaving you in the hold space once you assured him you were okay and nothing had happened in the city beyond the quick errands and resupply of fuel. You told him of the expenses and he waved a hand as you listed them off. Citing that it was your credits covering everything and he wasn’t concerned with them if you weren’t.

Days passed, much the same. You spent time entertaining and caring for ad’ika. Din joining you in the same bed some nights, others he slept alone. It wasn’t uncomfortable, it was just an understanding of him needing space and you respected that. You needed it too, thoughts of being wanted publicly and officially not sitting well with you. You had done a good job of staying below the radar until now, and it was hard to adjust to the notion that you could be recognized while out and about.

The ship was stationary, docked at a hangar on some plush planet, a sight of tourism and capitalism. A collection of casinos and gambling rings, race tracks and so many other things for people to lose countless hours and credits indulging in. Din had deemed it a safe enough environment to rest for the morning before disembarking. He had returned to bed after securing the ship and asked you to pay the docking fee.

You had, a quick transaction, reassurance that you were protected here even so deep in the city from the droid who registered the ship. Making a pod of caf, you checked on a deeply sleeping child up in what was considered your bunk. He had practiced with the Force some early this morning, a way to distract him from the nightmares that woke him at too early of an hour. You had left the tangle of limbs and blankets that had been you and Din down in the hold space to tend to the child. He had been slumbering ever since, successful in manipulating a snack toward him, not once but twice with gently and steady encouragement from you.

“Hey,” You broke the silence of the hull. Leaning against the doorway to the small cabin. You were cradling a steaming mug in your hands, stripped down to your socked feet, trousers, and tank top. Din hummed, letting you know he was awake. “I wanted to apologize for earlier, when I asked after a mir’shupur signet. I didn’t mean to imply that you weren’t recovering.”

“I know.”

“I’m just worried, you’ve been doing the bacta treatments and you say the scabbing is mostly gone. But I see the way you’ve slowed down, how delayed you are to respond when you don’t have your helmet on.”

“I’ll be fine, mesh’la.” His baritone voice was soft, as if he was trying to convince himself as much as yourself. But he was improving, it was just slow going, as with all head injuries. Bacta or not, and if there was the luxury of time, of endless credits and the ability for him to, you would’ve suggested a bacta tank.

It was just too unrealistic a notion with the current predicament. Lack of time, lack of resources, lack of privacy that would allow for it to be possible. If you could take his pain and discomfort, you would do so in a heartbeat. But you didn’t dare voice that sentiment, knowing he would argue that he would take the consequences of his actions, because he stood by them and that was the way things were.

“I know, I just…I care for you and I want to help, I just…I spoke out of term and I’m sorry if I offended you.”

“….you didn’t.” A sigh. “I considered it as well, back on Nevarro, just…just in case it was that serious.”

“I just want you to be okay and if I-“ A hiccup bubbled up, tears hot and spilling through your lashes, “If I made it worse even just a little when I threw you across the hull, I-“

Din was suddenly pushing up from the bed, gloved hands coming up to wipe away the tears trailing down your cheeks. The mug was gently pried from your hands, placed atop the makeshift table before he engulfed you in a comforting embrace.

“Fuck, take what you need, take what you want.” Din’s voice was deliciously low and desperate as he felt the way you moved against his hand. The modulator crackled slightly with the timbre of his words, the force of them on a heavy exhale. Your skin was so hot, and your pleasure was obvious as slick coated his hand, he was trying not to let his instincts and past experiences take over. Not wanting to ruin this for you, not wanting to scare you off or trigger you into a silent episode as he had so stupidly done far too many times before. “You deserve to feel good, mesh’la.”

He crooked his fingers, pads gliding over something deep in you that hitched your breath. He did it again and pressed deliberately, a loud moan tearing itself from your throat as your back arched. Wide eyes were trained on him when he looked up from where his hand was encompassing you, pushing into your core. His eyes trailed up the sweat slick expanse of your skin through the visor, up your stomach to your breasts that were rocking with the movements you had begun to instinctually make. Your peaked nipples looking like too much of a temptation atop the soft flesh, your neck was flushed dark, the heat encompassing you obvious on your sun-kissed skin, craning as you tried to fight the urge to give into your pleasure completely.

Your expression was wrecked. Your eyes were blown out to leave only a sliver of their true color. Your plush lips were swollen from biting into them as his hands had brought you to the precipice. They were parted as you tried to catch your breath but all that was falling from them were moans that went straight through him, igniting the blood in his veins and settling low where he was hard and straining against his trousers.

Din was tempted to darken the room and remove his helmet to trail his lips over everything he was seeing right now. As if reading his thoughts, you licked your lips before speaking in a desperate tone, panting slightly with the effort to get the words out around your pleasure.

“I want to kiss you.”

His fingers stilled inside you, his thumb atop the bundle of nerves that had you gasping just a second ago freezing. You whimpered at the stillness, his hands still on you. You felt your hips undulate still, desperately searching for the friction that had pleasure rolling over you just a second ago.

“I want to feel your face in my hands even if I can’t see it, to feel your lips trail down my body.” You keened, the words falling unbidden from your mouth as you writhed underneath and against him. “I’d let you, I’d let you touch me, mark me.”

They must’ve been the wrong words, the wrong thing to say because the energy in the room shifted from charged and sensual to stiff and uncomfortable. Fear trickled down your spine, making you shudder. You had never wanted someone to touch you the way you were asking, begging for. Never. And you had felt so safe, so sure he would want the same that you blurted out your desires as the haze of pleasure had overtaken you.

You had messed up, if the complete rigid form of Din in front of you was any indication. Spoken too honestly and too selfishly. Insultingly, of his Creed.

“We can’t…I-I don’t...” Din slowly removed his hand from in and around you, placing it on the bed near your hip. He ignored the way it seemed a shame to waste the taste of you on the fabric when his mouth was such a better home for it. He moved his weight around slightly, so he wasn’t hovering over you as you spoke, but was perched near your legs. You sat up a little as well, bringing your arms that had been grasping at his biceps and shoulders underneath you to push up. Bottom lip coming between your teeth, and you worried the skin, emotions spiking and trying to keep them at bay.

Despite your efforts, you felt a lump form in your throat, the hot shame of speaking such things lighting up your body from the inside out in a rather unpleasant way. Replacing the heat of desire that had been flooding you just seconds ago. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath to try and center yourself.

When you opened them back up, you had reverted back to the neutral expression you would hold around him when you first met and all those weeks after. The tightening of his shoulders told you as much.

“You don’t want to kiss me.” Your voice was small, taking on the void of emotion it had for most of your life. You were shrinking into yourself, bringing your limbs close and making the space you took up as small as possible, a far cry from how you had just been stretched out across the entire bed. His bed. Your bed. The bed you shared.

You had made an absolute fool of yourself, writhing around and begging for him in a way that was too uninhibited. You knew that it was a serious thing, for him to even consider removing his helmet.

Firsthand, you had seen how he refused to remove it even in the face of death, in the case of extreme injury that needed to be tended to. Feeling small, insignificant, foolish for asking after such a thing from a man sworn to do nothing of the sort. He undressed, he allowed you to see and feel his body, a test to the boundaries and meaning of his faith already. Selfish, the word rang loud in your head, you were selfish. And you had no right to be. “You don’t want to kiss me.”

“It’s….it’s an intimate thing…I don’t…I have…” He didn’t know how to get the words out even as they all rushed around his head, overlapping with each other. He watched the way your face composed into a mask, an unreadable cover that didn’t give way the crush his words were causing.

It didn’t matter the commitment he made to you, his actions now stung, his lack of a response as to why hurting like a blade imbedded in your chest. He would touch you, he would rock against your body with his own, but he didn’t want to kiss you. Stupid, you thought, how stupid it was to want to kiss someone. Such a dumb, adolescent thing to yearn for.

With a blink your eyes cleared of any pleasure you had lingering on your skin, in your very nerves from him. You calmly reached out across the bed to pull your bandeau top back on before slipping the discarded tank top back over your shoulders.

“You don’t want to be intimate with me in that way….it’s- it’s not just your Creed. You don’t- you don’t want me physically the same way I want you. I’m- Maker, I am so stupid.”

Your words might as well have come from a droid for all the emotion they were devoid of. You reached further to retrieve your underwear and stood, your legs a little shaky from the magic that Din’s fingers had been casting on you, had used to distract you from the truth of the situation. That you would never get to feel all of him, that he would never give you all of himself. You felt his reach to help steady you, but you stepped further away, closer to the door of the cabin as you stepped into the fabric and tugged it up hastily.

“No, no, that’s not! It’s…you’re so… just…” He wanted to ask if you were sure, if your words were real and not just you getting lost in the pleasure of the moment. His helmet coming off was something that needed to be planned, needed to be wanted, by everyone involved. He’d never…he had never removed it to be with someone and Maker, he wanted to so with you, but he hadn’t wanted to overwhelm you.

He hadn’t wanted to scare you off with the meaning behind it, the undermining breach of the Creed he devoted himself to.

But you couldn’t know that, because he hadn’t voiced it. Nor the dreams he awoke from in the night of your lips on his. It didn’t matter if he had made a commitment to you, had even uttered a loving decree, he didn’t want to remove his helmet and it hurt.

“I asked too much of you, I apologize. I didn’t mean to overstep my place, jatne vod.” You bowed your head slightly, brain shutting back down in the face of daring to ask for something once in your life only to be turned down so quickly. It shouldn’t feel like your heart was being impaled, but your breath was shallowing out as it did so, your chest aching in a way you weren’t familiar with. Rejection, it stung like nothing you had ever experienced, not even akin to the blade of your saber during training drills. And then: heartache, your mind betrayed you as it gave word to it.

Of course he wouldn’t want to remove his helmet for you, he hadn’t even wanted to remove it on the brink of death. He was already cruising the line of his Creed by allowing you to see his body, to share in pleasure with him in that way, and you felt shame, disappointment, greedy. And you didn’t like it.

He was motionless, the stab of the term you called him harsh in his chest. Piercing him and stinging far worse than any injury he could have sustained.

Din stood, grabbing his shirt from where it lay on the floor, he tugged it over his helmet, only to hear the door to the cabin hush as it opened the second the fabric was blocking his visor. When he pulled the collar down to rest along his neck, you were gone from the space in front of him, the door left open. The rustling of fabric and the clinking of your pauldrons had his skin buzzing.

“San?” Din’s voice was frantic as he tried to pull the flight suit top closed quickly over his shirt, his fingers not quite able to grasp at the zipper for a second. He reached for his gloves as his head swiveled as he searched for where you ran off to in the hold. The sound of the ramp door opening and lowering settled heavy in his middle as he finally managed to pull his gloves on, still wet with the tears that had fallen from your eyes. He didn’t see any shadows or movement about the ship, crazed energy began to wash over him. You had run. You had run from him. You had run from him and left the ship.

He repeated it louder as he marched down the ramp, he reached up to press the side of his helmet to activate the heat sensor. He followed your steps down the ramp with the visor, his own quiet beneath him despite the flood of emotions overwhelming him and urging him to run. To chase. He followed the trail through the landing pads of the docking area before they were lost in the dozens and dozens that led into the hectic streets of the city.

It was after an hour he realized he hadn’t put on any of his armor, essentially walking into the dense city streets naked. His flight suit pants, separate top zipped up over an undershirt, boots and gloves. He suddenly felt worried for you, donned only in your clothing, no armor either. He knew you could hold your own but that didn’t do much to help ease his mind as he realized he had eyes tracking his every movement. His helmet garnering unwanted attention.

He needed to regroup, if he had any chance at tracking you. He knew you, knew how well you could hide and stay hidden from those searching for you. But he also knew you. That you liked the fancier places to eat, the fresher food served in such places, the colored drinks they offered. That you liked the comfort of a soft bed, the security of a hotel, to look out the windows at the ever-bustling city even well into the night as sleep pulled at you and made you lethargic. Despite not liking crowds, you flourished in the busy marketplaces, making idle chit chat with the vendors, asking after local fruits and wanting to try each one.

Sighing, he scanned the street he was on one last time, visor unable to pick up on your trail. Turning, he vowed to get dressed properly and find you. He needed to. He needed to swallow the self consciousness that had taken over him in that moment and still was. He needed to tell you that he wanted to kiss you too, more than anything. But that he hadn’t kissed anyone. You would be the first, the only. But he had to find you. You had to know.

But come nightfall, he hadn’t been able to find any leads. Having secured his armor and weapons before securing ad’ika in the bunk of the hull, with a promise to return with you in his arms. Even when he had ducked into a bar whose sign surely called you toward it. Asking the guard at the door if he had seen someone of your description, but they had claimed not to. Even when he had scoured the marketplace, hoping to pick up any signs of you purchasing a replacement cloak or a new pack of cigarras that you were so fond of.

It was like you had vanished, no trace of you to be found.

Din doesn’t think his heart had stopped thudding heavily in his chest the whole time he searched.

You tried to keep the tears at bay, but they stung in the column of your throat, they stung behind your cheeks. Your head was throbbing with the effort to focus on things in front of you. The waning pleasure thrumming in your body no longer welcome as shame overrode it. The suns were too bright, and the crowd was too large. But you continued to walk, continued to put distance between you and the one place you thought you had been safe to ask for things. To be yourself.

Ignoring the concerned and wary glances of onlookers around the busy streets, you pushed on. No destination in mind other than to get as far away from the docking station set up in the middle of the city.

Catching sight of a flashing neon sign, you turned, coming face to face with a man standing guard at the door to a bar. Trying your best to smile, to appear put together, you greeted him in Basic. He stepped aside, allowing you to enter. Thankful for the simple clothing you preferred to appear classy enough to allow you admittance. Though you did regret not thinking to grab your cape or armor in the quick rush away from the embarrassing disaster that was now your afternoon. You had only managed to grab your saber handle and the pouch you kept attached to your thigh in your haste.

At least you had a way to protect yourself, at least you had credits.

But even the attempt at seeking peace to calm down and gather your thoughts seemed to be a mistake on your part.

“What’s a pretty thing like you doin’ all alone?” A twi-lek approached you, broad in the shoulders and donned in all black. The leather of his headdress was stitched with yellow, complimenting the tone of his skin. Lekku draped over his shoulders. He didn’t sit, which you were thankful for, but he did hover directly in front of your small booth, a drink in his hand.

“Just having a moment alone,” You didn’t look up from your meal, not wanting to entertain the man even the slightest. Even if it didn’t feel like it at the moment, you were committed to another. And you would never betray Din’s trust. Even… even if it meant you would never get to experience the feel of his lips on your own.

The announcement of his commitment to you, his intention of courtship. It had been a lot, but you were okay with things being an eventuality. Or at least, you had thought that you were. But you had failed to express yourself properly…or you had done so correctly but in the wrong circumstance, with the wrong words. Still unaccustomed to feeling such strong physical emotions and urges, still unaccustomed to the ways in which you were both discovering each other’s bodies in such a safe space.

It was a confusing thing, due to the instances he would disengage the seal on his helmet and allow you a glimpse. Though rare, they made you feel like he had unfailing trust in you, that he was comfortable.

“I can get you another drink, if you’d like?” He slid into the booth, effectively setting your instincts on high alert. He didn’t look like a threat, but his presence was unwelcome, and you were already at an emotional capacity and unwilling to entertain civility.

“No.”

“C’mon, a pretty face like yours shouldn’t look so glum.”

“Then leave.”

When he didn’t get up from the seat opposite side of the table, you did. Placing a few credits on the table as you did so.

You weren’t paying attention, head not on a swivel or senses on alert as you walked out of the bar, the guard bidding you a good evening.

A nod in return, you ducked out into the busy street, missing the feel of gauze from your cloak. The crowd was too much, the skin of your arms covered in goosebumps as you brushed past people moving too slowly. Unsure of where to go, you entertained the spare thought of checking into a hotel and contacting Din to ensure you were safe. Too wrapped up in your thoughts, you didn’t notice the shadow of someone hiding just inside the alley you walked past.

A hand shot out and you shoved your own out to throw the person into a wall. But you had moved too slowly. The larger person pulled you into the darkness of the canopied alley, the suns having set completely and bathing the planet in a dark blue sky lit up with sparkling stars.

“Let me go.” You growled, unwilling to go down without a fight even through the sheer exhaustion that had taken hold of you from the day. But they were strong, you had to concentrate and harness a wave of energy at them to get them to back off. They let it happen, grunting when their back connected hard with the brick of buildings side. He recovered quickly, lunging at you, pinning you to the opposite wall of brick.

“No can do, little one. Your mother sent me to fetch you,” Thrashing, your fists thunked against his armor, echoing down the length of the dark alley.

The pinch of a large needle being pushed into the skin of your neck was the last thing you felt, barely able to get your mouth open to protest. The contents of the syringe acting fast and you felt your body go limp, mind fighting against the haze that was washing over you. Hands gripped you tight, arms closing around you and dragged you off…

previous chapter || next chapter

taglist: @clevergirl74 @strawberri-blonde @js-favnanadoongi @littlemisspascal @moonknight-s-cumdump @bookloverkat @golden-mando @beskarandblasters @feral-ferrule @bearsbeetsbeskar @76bookworm76 @anoverwhelmingdin @sarap-77 @picassopedro @sawymredfox @jessthebaker @genetics4life @mosssbawls

dividers: by the lovey @cafekitsune

[fairytale-poll]

WINNER ANNOUNCEMENT POST!!!!!!!

Before I get into the winners, I want to thank everyone who participated in Cinderpoll!!! Everyone who wrote propaganda, who sent asks and wrote comments in the reblogs, even if you just voted thank you for making Cinderpoll as fun as it was! It couldn't have happened without you <3

Now, onward to the winners!!!

The first congratulations will be to the winner of the Mod's Choice poll: Hatsune Miku from Various Songs!!! The Mod's Choice poll is less popular than the main tournament or the loser's bracket, but it's important to me, so it's on here. Here's to Miku Miku!!!

(Technically the Mod's Choice poll is still open at the time this announcement is made, but it looks like she's winning and it's almost done and if it changes I'll edit this post)

The next congratulations is a bigger one. It's the winner of the loser's bracket, Brandy as Cinderella in the 1997 adaptation of Rodgers & Hammerstein's Cinderella!!! Many thought she was done dirty when she lost in Round 1 of the main tournament, so I'm glad she was able to take this reward at least. You know what they always say, it's possible! :) Congratulations Brandy as Cinderella, you defined a generation!

Now we're onto the winners of the main tournament.

We have the two bronze place winners. In 3rd place, we have two popular characters-- one of which I feel as though very few expected to get here. That one was of course Mofurun as Mofurella from Mahou Tsukai Pretty Cure! But that cute little teddy bear, who I have been told is transgender, did it! She made it to the podium through the power of being a cute teddy bear! The other 3rd place winner is Missy Piggy as Lady Holiday from The Great Muppet Caper. The beautiful and talented diva herself, is it no surprise that she made it this far? Honestly, if she was here, she'd probably karate chop me not for giving her the gold (and that's why we love her). Congrats bronze medalists :)

Here is the big one! The runner-up!

It is none other than Cinders from Once Upon a Time (in Space) by The Mechanisms. Cinders had a lot of energy going into the tournament, as she was the second-most submitted character and another Once Upon a Time (in Space) character got runner-up in the last tournament, and she defeated some other big names in the tournament including Cinderella from Into the Woods and Linh Cinder from The Lunar Chronicles (who was the most submitted character). Her fans were passionate and campaigned for her fiercely, and with that, she landed all the way up to the runner-up!!! A very high honor indeed, congratulations Cinders!!! Not bad for a character who doesn't have any official art of her.

There is one character, however, that managed to drum up even more support than Cinders from Once Upon a Time (in Space).

The gold medalist, the winner of Cinderpoll, Tumblr's certified favorite Cinderella, and the unofficial official best Cinderella--

CONGRATULATIONS TO ELLA OF FRELL FROM ELLA ENCHANTED!!!!

I am more than pleased, as Ella of Frell was one of my favorite (if not THE favorite Cinderella in the tournament), and I am so glad that so many other people loved this book. Honestly didn't expect her to make it this far, much less win! I encourage all of you to read it if you enjoy reading! :) Good job Ella, you deserved the gold!!!

Once again thank you everyone for a great poll! I'll start submissions for the next one sometime in the next week.

[tmnt-tychou]

Thanks everyone for participating in my earlier poll. Donatello and Raphael won the team up. So here is part two.

Here is Part One

Don't Make A Sound

Part 2: Work

“There's an issue with the toilet in the women's bathroom near theater 6,” her manager told her.

Name just looked at him. She already had a full time day job. Working nights part time at the theater was just to help supplement her cash flow to pay for the expensive New York rent prices. And right now, she was very much reconsidering remaining employed.

“That's not my job,” she said flatly. “I work concessions.”

Working the theater was a job of feast or famine. There were either long lines of movie-goers, or an empty lobby between start times. Currently, they were in the middle of a lull, not a customer around.

“We don't have anyone else who can do it right now,” her manager insisted. “And it needs to be done.”

“You can do it,” she shot back.

“I'm not going into the women's restroom,” he insisted.

There was a bit more back and forth, but ultimately, Name knew she had to do this or her job would be in jeopardy. And she really liked being able to see movies for free. So she trudged off to the indicated bathroom with the janitorial cart. As unenthusiastically as one could, she put up the sign indicating the restroom was temporarily closed and wheeled the cart inside.

There was definitely a smell. And a clear puddle of water leaking out of one stall.

“Great,” she huffed. What a night to not have janitorial staff. If her work uniform got wet, she was going to be pissed.

With an expression of distaste, she set about slipping on gloves and grabbing the plunger. She could hear the movie playing in the theater next to her. The heavy thuds of explosions and loud music from an action flick. She approached the offending bathroom stall, not looking forward to seeing what exactly was in the clogged toilet.

“Ugh! What is that smell?” demanded a voice behind her. She turned and saw an old lady standing at the entrance, her nose scrunched, frowning at the wet floor. “Why hasn't that been cleaned up?”

“I'm cleaning it now,” Name responded with incredulity. “The sign was up that this restroom is closed.”

Screams were heard from the theater. Maybe it was a horror movie they were watching. She glanced toward the door. That...that was a lot of screams. That was too many screams.

“Well I thought I'd just use it since I'm here,” the lady insisted. “I didn't expect it to be like this.” Her voice rose, as did the screams in the background. “This is so unaccept--”

The woman was silenced in an instance as some...thing snatched her as fast as a snake strike and she was gone in a splatter of blood. Name stumbled back at the sight of the creature, horrified. Too scared to make a noise. She stumbled into the cart and the mop clattered to the floor. The creature immediately lunged toward the sound. She backed up soundlessly as the bulbous head opened up into a giant maw of teeth and shattered the mop handle into splinters. She wasn't sure why she didn't scream. Something in the back of her lizard brain told her to be silent. Her back hit the wall, hands over her mouth.

The monster 'killed' the mop and crouched, sweeping its head back and forth, listening. Despite it not having visible eyes, Name backed into a bathroom stall and silently closed the door. She needed something between her and it. Even then, it was still too close. Hand still on her mouth, she could hear it snuffling around. She climbed up on the toilet and crouched on the seat, praying for it to leave.

Somewhere by the entrance, screaming was heard. Then a scrambling sound on the title floor as someone ran in. More screaming. Then silence and wet sounds. It all happened so fast. Name trembled where she was, hand still over her mouth, praying she wouldn't be next.

Then she shifted. The sensor on the automatic toilet went off. The monster crashed against the flimsy stall door, easily breaking through it. Name scrambled away as the monster aimed not for her, but the thing making the noise. It was so loud, the monster couldn't hear her slither under the stall right into—oh God—the over-spill from the clogged toilet next to it. She wanted to vomit as the smell hit her. But staying alive was more important.

She army crawled through the rancid spill as the sounds of broken porcelain and spilling water clattered behind her. She wriggled her way through to the last stall and sat there in the corner, shaking uncontrollably, trying not to make a sound.

The monster must have burst a pipe, it had reacted so violently. More water spilled out all over the floor. It reached her, but she dared not leave. The sound of the water made it impossible to hear anything else. So she sat and waited, unwilling to move. She wasn't sure if the creature was still there, hunting her, or if it had left. So she sat, getting soaked as the water spilled out. After several minutes, the automatic lights flipped off. She continued to sit, too afraid to move. Shivering from both the fear and the cold of the water.

It felt like hours, it felt like days of sitting there, waiting in the darkness. Was she going to die here? She had to get up and leave sometime or she really would die here.

Then, the lights flicked back on again and she froze. The monster had come back for her. Her ears strained above the din of the broken pipe. She heard the door of the far stall open between the gurgle of the pipes. Her heart started to race. It was looking for her.

The next door opened. With a shaking hand, she reached up and locked her door. Something walked over to her stall and the door was tried, but didn't open. A little bit of fiddling and she watched in horror as the latch moved. The door opened and there...

Her turtle saviors were there, standing in front of her. They came for her! She never thought she'd see them again! She nearly cried out with relief before Donatello put a finger to his mouth as a reminder for silence. He helped her up onto her shaking legs. His hands grounded her as he wordlessly checked her for wounds. His relief to find her was just as palpable as hers to be found. He smiled at her, making her feel like as long as he was there, it would be okay. Outside the stall, Raphael skulked, sais out and eyeballing the entrance. Larger than his purple-clad brother, his presence only reassured Name that she was going to get through this. The other two brothers weren't around. Name hoped they were okay.

Donatello pulled her in when she couldn't stop shaking. He gave her a warm, solid hug. He didn't seem to mind that she smelled like fetid bathroom water. A perk of having friends that lived in the sewers. Donatello was always both a bright, kinetic energy, and also a grounding influence on her. Name snuggled in and just let him hold her against his solid body.

Raphael poked his head in to give his own once over of her physical state. He was such a big brother. So protective of anyone deemed under the umbrella of his care. He didn't always know how to express it emotionally, but he showed he cared in his actions. He was always there for those who needed him.

Right now, she needed him—needed them both—and they had come for her.

So much she wanted to tell them. That she was so grateful to see them. That she was glad they were alright. That she loved them so much for always showing up for her. But she could not express any of it. The turtles seemed to know just as well as she did: no sound.

Donatello took her hand and she followed. Out of the bathroom, the theater was a scene of horror. There were bodies. There was even more blood. The carpet and walls were raked with claws. Everything was silent—the projectors, the popcorn machine—anything that could make noise was now forever silenced.

Name wanted to cry. From the horror and death. From the thought that Donatello and Raphael came in here, saw all the carnage, and still decided to pick through it all, trying to find her. Not knowing if she had survived. They still went in to look at the bodies for her. She squeezed Donatello's hand harder. He smiled back at her and she saw the weight of what he had seen on his face. Her turtles liked to help people, they liked to protect. They were not able to protect anyone here and she was sure it broke their hearts. If they had also found her dead...she wanted to hold Raphael's hand, too, but right now, the goal was to make it through the building in silence.

They paused once as one of the monsters skulked down the corridor. Breaths held, they carefully continued on. Through the lobby, the shattered glass doors were the barrier between them and outside. The piles of broken glass were the landmines. Step by step, they threaded their way through, making as little sound as possible.

Each step was careful among the broken glass. A touch of toes first and then the rest of the body weight. Light-footed, like a ninja. They were nearly free. They raised their feet to step out of the theater through the broken door frames. And Raphael's shell just happened to bump a sharp point of glass still sticking out of the frame. That was enough to send it and several other pieces clattering to the ground.

All three froze at the sound, holding their breaths. Two separate monsters galloped from opposite ends of the hallway, meeting in the lobby to stampede straight for them. Name froze at the sight, but she felt Donatello's hand on her wrist, jerking her out the doorway. She ran blindly, unable to see anything in front of her but the turtle's large shell.

She heard the creatures blindly crash through the broken doors, gunning for them. Fear seemed to pull the energy from her legs. How was she supposed to outrun them? What if she only slowed the turtle's down?

Ahead, she heard the familiar sound of the large fountain in the middle of the shopping plaza where the theater was located. Donatello wasn't going around. Name nearly cried out, but she felt Raphael grab her from behind and put a hand over her mouth. His strength always awed her. How easily he leaped with her extra weight. He cleared the pool and all three landed on top of the fountain, about seven feet off the ground.

Unfortunately, the top of the fountain sputtered water, too, and the three of them were getting soaked. Name hardly minded. At least this wasn't rank toilet water this time. But below, the monsters were confused. It seemed they truly were blind. But also intelligent. The sound of the fountain had disguised your whereabouts, but they knew their prey hadn't disappeared.

They began to circle the fountain, listening. The bulbous heads would open like a blooming flower, presumably to hear better. No eyes, no nose. Their only senses were sound and touch. And Donatello was going to take full advantage of that. He pulled a device out of one of the pockets on his belt, fiddled with it, and then threw it as far as he could. It hit the ground and began to make a beeping noise. The two monsters immediately took off after it. They attacked it so violently, they were hurting each other trying to get to it.

Even more horrifying, more of them came out of the woodwork. They appeared from all over, even from the tops of the buildings around them. All converging on the sound. There were so many. Name felt a heavy pit in her stomach from how many there were.

But Name and the turtles didn't stay to see what happened. The second the monsters were distracted, Raphael picked her up again. They jumped from the top of the fountain and fled the opposite way as silent as possible.

[fe-smashorpass]

Introduction! (Please Read)

Inspired by other smash or pass blogs, this one is about Fire Emblem characters!

My name is Mod Garn and I use she/her!

Will only be posting characters who are 18+ but since this is Fire Emblem not everyone has a canon age. Even if they do, a character's age can be called into question (here’s another post I made on this topic). TL;DR I'll be arbitrarily judging a character if they look old enough for this. If you think a character should or shouldn't be here, I am sorry.

I will be doing almost every character in the franchise, including from the mainline and spin-off games, one off generics, the cipher exclusives, and manga exclusives.

Also I am splitting up characters who are technically the same character but under different identities.

Characters that will be excluded are:

underage characters (as mentioned before)

characters without a decent (or any) picture of them

Characters who share the same portrait as each other since that will be redundant

Generic portraits for classes, so if a character uses a generic class portrait (ex the 10 elites from fe3h) they won't be included (the only exceptions are Abysskeeper and Gatekeeper)

I'll be posting 3 characters a day, alphabetically, at 12PM EST.

Also thank you to reddit user u/Just_Nefariousness55 for making this post compiling every character in the games. My life was made so much easier because of you.

Also I'm running this event called the December Video Game Music Event (link for more info on it)

FAQ under the cut (please read!)

Q. Why? A. Because I can

Q. What’s the age limit of the polls? A. I’d rather not have any underage people rebloging/commenting/liking on the smash or pass polls (for y’all’s safety)

Q. I don't care for the other things on this blog, what are the tags for the smashing or passing? A. #fe smash or pass and #fire emblem smash or pass are the tags used for the actual smash or pass polls, in case you don't care for the random bs I sometimes post on this blog

Q. Why are people smashing/passing X character? A. IDK!!! Maybe to piss people off. Maybe the character is not as hot as you think. Maybe something else. Baseline is… I don’t know!

Q. Can you post X character? A. No, as I've stated before, I post characters alphabetically and certain characters will be excluded due to a multitude of reasons (read above). If you're asking me if I were to smash or pass a certain character, please specify and I will answer.

Q. Can you add a “not attracted to character’s gender” option? A. No I don’t think it’s necessary to have, you can just press “pass” or not vote at all

Q. Why is fe2 Nuibaba your pfp? A. It funni

Q. IDK this character, can I still participate in the poll? A. Sure! You can decide whether to smash or pass just based on looks

Q. Can I explain the reason why I would/wouldn't smash? A. Yes cause I'm nosey

Q. What will happen once you’re finished with all the characters? A. I’ll do the generic portraits for classes and idk what will happen afterwards

Q. Are you a fan of Digimon? A. Yes :}

[chimcess]

→ Chapter 3.5: When She Sees Me Pairing: Jimin x Reader Other tags: Werewolf!Jimin, Witch!Reader, Shifter!Reader, Shifter!Jimin, A/B/O Dynamics, Alpha!Jimin Genre: Supernatural!AU, Werewolf!AU, Angst, Mutual Pining, Fluff Word Count: 1.8k+ Synopsis: Within the four realms of Lustra lay the Bangtan forest home to the Foxglove pack of the south and known as the “land of magic.” It is also home to the Bridd, a powerful witch from a cursed bloodline who is one of the sacred guardians of the forest. Park Jimin is the man who's in love with her, and when their worlds collide in tragedy, he must decide if he is willing to put his old life aside to make a new one. Warnings: Jimin POV, Kissing, talks of sexual feelings (not exlipict), I love this man with my whole heart, just a boy in love, takes place at the end of chapter three of the main storyline, THAT scene, FLUFF, This was so much fun to write, to be in wolf Jimin's head... the dream. Disclaimer: While you don't have to read any of the series to understand what's going on, it won't make a ton of sense. I highly recommend reading this in conjunction with the original work, Trees That Wheep. A/N: On the first day of Christmas Lex gave to thee... Jimin's P-O-V. Thanks so much to everyone who participated in the poll I held. Hope this meets expectations despite her being on the shorter side. Happy holidays and stay safe.

|| Chapter 3 || Masterlist ||

"Yours must be very interesting."

I shook my head. "Not really. Mostly the angsty ramblings of a teenager. Nothing more."

I sounded convincing enough. I heard Jimin shuffling around but refused to look his way. Deciding that I was done for the night, I began closing and stacking the grimoires I had taken out. I'd sort through them later. Glancing at the walls, I couldn't tell what time it was, but I knew it had to be close to sunset. I needed to get to my room soon.

Turning, I felt strong arms resting on either side of my waist. Shocked, I turned my head to find Jimin standing directly behind me. His chest pressed against my shoulder as I faced him. He had never been so close to me before.

Jimin’s POV

Her chest felt soft against me, and I struggled to keep my nerve. Walking over here had been impulsive, my feet moving before I was able to think it over, but having her between my arms made the potential embarrassment worth it. She looked so lovely in the candlelight, and whatever she had been reading caused her shoulders to tense uncomfortably.

Her eyes were wide, confused, and couldn't find a point of my face to stop on. I could hear her heart fluttering like a hummingbird's wings, and her scent made me force a groan back. She was so sweet, like vanilla, with an almost bitter aftertaste. I would compare it to whiskey, but that was too strong. Tobacco, cotton, and vanilla came to mind.

"Jimin?"

She was so gentle when she said my name, caressing it as if it were a precious secret. I leaned into her, wanting to hear her heart beating closer still. Drunk off her presence, I found myself talking.

"Can I tell you something?" I whispered, just as softly as she had said my name.

Our chests touched, and I moved my hands behind her back. Wrapping around her, I forced my hands onto the table. I was itching to hold her tightly, but I was afraid of what might happen. Placing one hand on top of the other, I felt myself trembling. We had never been so close, and only in my dreams did I think this possible. She refused to look at me, her breathing as heavy as my own, causing me great pleasure.

"Y/N," I called to her, hoping she could hear all the ways I loved her within it. "Can I?"

Eyes locking, I had to grip my fingers to keep them on the table. I could smell the faintest trace of her arousal, and it took all of my self-control to ignore it. She shivered against me, and I knew she was feeling the same electricity that I was. I could hear her swallow, something I found oddly arousing, and she nodded.

Something was crossed tonight. The lines I had meticulously placed between us for years had come crumbling down ever since the day I came here with Hoseok. There was something about watching her walk around her home, her feet unable to stay still while she worked that had struck me. Feeling her eyes on me, knowing that she wanted to watch me just as much as I wanted to watch her, unleashed this animal. The more primal part of my personality wanted to shout at Hoseok to leave us alone so I could take what was mine. The other side, the man, wished to sit and listen to her talk about the knives she loved to make, to ask her all of the questions I had been dying to have answered, and watch the way her eyes lit up. Realizing that we would never go back to a time before this, I decided to be upfront.

"I enjoy your company," I had to tell her.

She nodded, dazed. Her eyes did not leave my own, and she searched, ever the curious girl, for something. I had long ago stopped trying to figure her out. Instead, I hoped that she would tell me. I wanted her to want me to know her. With that in mind, I decided to destroy the walls between us.

"I like being close to you. Is that alright?"

"Yes," she replied breathlessly, needily.

I leaned into her, drawing closer. Her eyes were hooded, heavy, and the lust within them brought me to my knees. She wanted me so badly, the smell of it clinging to the air, adding another layer to her familiar smell. It reminded me of sea salt. I swallowed thickly and leaned in closer. Not tonight, I told myself, the grip on my left hand painful now. I could wait for that. I had been waiting for her for so long.

"Do you want me to stop?" I whispered, so close to her lips that I could feel the ghost of them against mine.

I felt her hesitate. This was nothing new. She had always kept her emotions for me on a tightly controlled leash. It had bothered me for a long time until I realized that she might have thought them foolish. I had never announced myself or made an effort to get closer to her. My own fears made me weak, but to have denied her this made me feel half a man. How could I have ever taken this choice from her? From us? Foolish.

"No," she said, her eyes already closing.

It would take less than a second of a second to lean forward. Such a small, inconsequential gap in time. A blink, and it was gone. Nothing. However, as I leaned in, I knew this small space would be burned into my mind. The anticipation, the way my heart sang and my hands trembled. Our lips brushed, and my knees went numb.

Kissing her was unlike anything I had ever experienced. She was so soft, so warm, and frail beneath me as I struggled to keep myself at her eye level. She sighed, her hands finding home on my chest, and I could no longer keep myself off her. Wrapping her in an embrace, I wanted to cry from joy. Everything that I had ever wanted, wondered, and fantasized paled in comparison. None of it did this moment justice. With her hands twitching against me, her lips chapped, mouth dry, and breathing into my mouth each time we pulled away, I was certain I had never done something so right in my whole life.

She finally started pulling away, and I opened my eyes to watch her. She was so beautiful. Her eyes were glazed and not even halfway opened. Staring at her, the candlelight making the beads on her top shine prettily, all I could imagine to say was that I loved her. Instead, I bent over even more and nuzzled my nose into her hairline.

"Thank you," I mumbled, already thinking about kissing her again.

She nodded before leaning into me once more. Tiptoeing to reach my face, hands traveling from my chest to my shoulders, her eyes closing. Cupping her face, so small and delicate beneath my hands, I pulled her to my eagerly waiting lips. She grinned against me as I tangled my fingers in her hair.

Suddenly, I felt her tongue licking at my lower lip, and the delicate balance I had been desperately trying to keep since I approached her tipped. With a strangled groan, I opened my mouth to hers and slid a hand from her hair to her hips. Sucking her tongue, I picked her up off the floor and lifted her onto the desk she had been occupied with all night. I didn't even think before my leg was forcing hers apart and making space for the rest of me.

Her hands gripped my shirt tightly, and I wished she would go back to twitching against my chest. She felt more solid there, more real. Her mouth was wet and hot as we kissed, her tongue hesitant and shy while I knew I was being more aggressive than she was used to. Thoughts of her kissing another made me uncomfortable, so I kissed her even harsher to remove whatever they may have left behind.

Then she was shoving me away, ripping her lips from mine as she struggled to catch her breath. I took a few steps back, unsure what the problem could be. One look at her, however, and I was sure. The change was coming.

"Go," she choked, scrambling off the desk.

A loud, piercing scream called me to action. As much as I hated leaving her in moments like this, I knew it made her uncomfortable to have me around. Her comfort would always trump my own needs and wants—that I was sure of. Running up the cellar steps, I threw open the little door and threw myself onto the living room floor. Closing the door, the tortured screams of my love were muffled.

My heart shattered as I listened to her, but I knew it wouldn't last long. A few feet away, Taehyung slept soundly. I envied his ability to do that. Ever since I got here, I had found sleeping restless. With her so close yet so far away, it was impossible to relax.

A large, toothy grin overtook me. I would never sleep without her again. I would try my hardest to be sure of that. Her lips lingered on my own, tingling and swollen, and I never wanted the feeling to fade. I would make sure I always felt this way, every day, for the rest of our lives.

I could see it now, living here with her. We would cook dinner together, eat together, sleep together. For Yule, we would put up a tree. For Litha, I would tend her garden while she watched me from the window. We would have children, beautiful children that looked like her, and love them the way they deserved to be loved. My family would learn to live with my choices, and my pack would always be my own, but I needed to be where my heart was.

As her screams dissolved into ragged, guttural sounds, I felt a strange kind of calm settle over me. It was as if the world had narrowed to this single, intense moment where my heart felt exposed, raw, and ready to bleed. I knew what needed to be done—what should have been said the very moment my wolf snarled and bared its teeth at anyone who dared stand between us in that dark, twisting cave. When I had painstakingly tended to her wounds, her frail body barely clinging to life in that small, dimly lit room. Each fleeting glance, every stolen moment, the restless dreams and nightmares that had haunted me—every fragment of yearning and hope had led to this.

Tonight, I would lay bare my soul. I would tell her that she was my mate. Tonight, we would draw our lines in the sand and never look back. Tonight, I would love her with every ounce of strength I had, and I would pray she would accept me. Tonight, and every night after, I would fight for her, for us, until the very end. I needed her to see—no one, not even in the darkest corners of existence, has ever loved another as I love her.

@greezenini@adventures-in-bookland@kthstrawberryshortcake-main@zae007live@jimin-neverout@nikkiordonez12@canarystwin@yamekomz@chimthicc@michiiedreamer@amorieus@mima795@yunki-yunki-yunki

© chimcess, 2023. Do not copy or repost without permission.

[cartoonsbyandie]

Filler Episode Poll: Answer Key

Thanks to everyone who participated, this was really cool data! So for those curious, here’s the answers with vote counts! Out of 949 votes, 268 were for the ‘Sees answers/Detco fan’ category, with the other 681 split between all these.

#9. “The gang re-enacts Home Alone in a closed department store” - 62 votes

Real! Episode 17: The Department Store Hijacking Case. One of the earliest fillers, the third one ever. I dunno if it’s specifically a Home Alone reference, but it does have that vibe.

#1: “Victim is killed by culprit with a fishing pole from across the street” - 22 votes

Real! Episode 53: The Mystery Weapon Murder Case. It’s a pretty basic one, just one I happen to like since it’s not technically solved by Conan himself, which fillers don’t do too often.

#5: “Conan's parents buy a nearby house to stalk him in disguise” - 95 votes

Real, unfortunately. Episode 418: Home of Beika’s Grenier. This one’s pretty bad. If the character limit was longer, I would’ve added “Conan figures it out because an old man stands up wrong.”

#8. “Culprit blinds a driver with a road sign so he can crash into his car on purpose” - 42 votes

Real! Episode 556: The Fearful Intersection. The culprit committed murder by making it look like he accidentally collided with another car. Gave himself a head injury and probably whiplash and everything, now that’s commitment to the bit. (I didn’t screenshot it, but after that screenshot of the cars crashing, it shows the culprit seemingly unconscious against his own airbag before giving an evil smile.)

#4: “Culprit traps Conan in a collapsing building but is saved by a celebrity cameo” - 34 votes

Real, and the only two-parter on the list! Episodes 804-805: Conan and Ebizo's Kabuki Jūhachiban Mystery. Honestly I wish I had a longer character limit for this one, because the collapsing building is just one part of this whole thing involving a stolen mask, two murders, blackmail, and getting caught because of a button. The celebrity cameo is Ichikawa Ebizō XI (currently known as Ichikawa Danjūrō XIII, but was Ebizo at the time of this episode,) and focuses on the Kabuki aspect of his career, but it seems like he does a lot of things. The special really just glorifies him the whole time, though he is written as being a massive fan of the show’s idiot detective, Kogoro. Who later almost accuses him of murder.

#6: “Man is catfished by an old lady, who then fakes a murder for Instagram fame” - 198 votes

Real! Episode 943: The Tokyo Barls Collection. I could’ve made this one so much longer too, and honestly I don’t even know how to screencap it. The name is a play on the “Tokyo Girls Collection” (the name of a Japanese fashion show), apparently. The group of old ladies fake an attempted murder (because one of them pretends to choke on a cabbage core and insists one of her friends put it in her food on purpose somehow) and lure in a famous detective (Kogoro, the catfished one which is also his dark souls boss name) to draw attention to their show. Their apology goes viral on social media afterwards.

This wound up being the most voted by far! I think partly because no one thought Instagram was a thing on the show. Which is fair, the show doesn’t call it that. Maybe Youtube would’ve been a better comparison since it has a view count that goes up, but whatever, same principle-- he’s what it looks like.

#3: “The gang is hired to find a lost armadillo, the culprits are the Blues Brothers” - 92 votes

Real, and one of my favorites. Episode 976: Follow Them! Detective Taxi. Not a favorite because it’s good, but because it’s just as insane as that summary suggests. And you can watch it dubbed on Tubi with the BangZoom cast if you want! I’m not sure why you’d want to, but that sure is a thing you can do if you want to watch Kogoro flirt with this cab driver.

#2: “Jewel thief steals pizza from children” - 80 votes

Real! Episode 1068: Mitsuhiko Tsuburaya's Detective Notes. Man this show has gone on a long time. Technically the culprit only steals the boxes. Had to put the jewels inside something.

And finally...

#7: “Gun smuggling ring is stopped by a drunk remembering what happened last night” - 56 votes

Fake! As far as I know. With all the episodes of this stupid show there are, maybe there’s a filler I haven’t seen that’s close to this. Oh my who left this fanfic I wrote here how strange, I wonder if the plot is similar to this fake filler episode, I guess you’d have to read it to find out

[mrs-lockley]

Results of WIP Poll

Thank you to everyone who participated in my WIP poll! Here are the results, and I'd love to hear your thoughts on which character you think it was 🥰 In ranking order!

Tagging: @soft-girl-musings @writefightandflightclub @venting402 @musing-magpie @sleepy-timaeus @marc-spectorr

I was supposed to protect you, not fall in love with you (34.8%)

Pairing: Jake Lockley x Southeast Asian Fem!Reader, (Platonic) Steven Grant x Southeast Asian Fem!Reader, (Unrequited) Marc Spector x Southeast Asian Fem!Reader Fic Title: Reach for the Moon | Series Masterlist | Part I. The Breaking Summary: To heal your broken heart and move on from your unrequited crush on Marc Spector, your family sends you to help establish your cousin’s bakery in Singapore for two years. You return to New York as a more confident woman, but you find yourself picking up the pieces of your broken heart (again) after meeting Marc as he continues to heal from his divorce. Sensing the pain and heartbreak between you and Marc, Jake steps in to create some distance to protect you, but he was never meant to fall in love with you. No Moon Knight AU.

In another world, I would have loved to do laundry and taxes with you (23.7%)

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Southeast Asian Fem!Reader Fic Title: Forever the Name on My Lips Summary: Chasing an anomaly through the Spider-Verse, Miguel finds himself stranded in a house that seem so familiar, but unfamiliar at the same time. He expects to find his way out, but what he does not expect is to see you standing in the doorway, your eyes wide as if you have seen a ghost, a wedding ring on your finger, wearing one of his college shirts. In his universe, you and Miguel never made it, but in yours, he was your late husband buried six feet under.

The dragon eats the moon, and I am afraid you will consume me whole (16.3%)

Pairing: Namor of Talokan (K'uk'ulkan) x Filipina (Kapampangan) Sirena Fem!Reader Fic Title: Where the Spirit Meets the Bones | Part 2 (Title TBD) Summary: Part 2 of Where the Spirit Meets the Bones. After reuniting with his Sirena, the King of Talokan returns to Asia’s Pearl of the Orient to see her again, only to learn that his Sirena is not what she seems (aka her human backstory revealed).

I never break a promise, but I broke my promise to you and fell in love with you (14.8%)

Pairing: Marc Spector x WOC!Reader Fic Title: A Thousand Cuts Cornelia Street Summary: Heartbreak is something you and your friend, Marc Spector, are familiar with. After one night of drinking and tears, you and Marc make a promises to each other to never fall in love again, but you soon find yourself breaking that promise. But you’ll be alright, it’s just a thousand cuts

We were never meant to be, but came to be, and only in this way. (10.4%)

Pairing: Jake Lockley x Southeast Asian Fem!Reader Fic Title: We'll Always Have New York Summary: Wanting to get out of California, you temporarily move to live with your aunt in New York to help take care of her after her fall. Not wanting you to spend your time looking after her, she suggests setting a blind date between you and one of her old coworkers, only for him to stand you up at the restaurant. Mortified and heartbroken, you seek refuge at a nearby coffee shop where you meet a taxicab driver, Jake Lockley. Takes place before the events of Moon Knight.

[yen-sids-tournament]

Favorite Fairies Results and Final Thoughts:

Tinker Bell from Peter Pan wins the Tournament!

A close final round as Rani, the Water Talent Fairy, gave our winner her closest match.

Now before we go any further, lets give a big round of applause to all the fairies and fae who were nominated and competed. Just because they didn't win we don't want them to think we don't believe in them!

Rani does get a few crowns of her own: she was the Favorite from the Disney Fairies series characters, and she received by far the most submissions. If you counted all the submissions (including the non-Disney ones) she was more than 10% of them!

We also don't want to go without recognizing a few other moments. LIlia Vanrouge! What a great fan base he has?! His and Maleficent's battle was the most voted in and decided by only 8 votes (less than 2%)! And we saw y'all trying again against Fairy Godmother making our second most voted in poll this tournament!

There were few other close first round matches as well, just a difference of 3 votes could have shanked up the tournament!

On the other side, Silvermist: She got on the bracket by being in of the top 5 submitted characters, yet never did anyone give us propaganda for her! She did get some support in the tags, and was able to defeat the Disney Fairies version of Tinker Bell to make it to the semis.

If you had asked us to fill out a bracket considering how we imagined the voting going, we had a very different expectation. We saw Tinker Bell's only real competition being Maleficent. And we must have been feeling a premonition for the horn aesthetic because we thought the Mistress of Evil was going to win it all...

Thank you to everyone who participated in our mini tournament with submissions, asks, reblogs, likes, tags, and/or anything else. We would not have been able to do this with out you.

Finally the results you have all been truly waiting for: Where do you prefer to watch movies?

All of the propaganda was taken from the submission forms. The only character which had excessive amounts was Rani. Because she made it to the semis we were able to use all of it! Everyone else was the same each round.

The Art We Used:

We tried our best to use all the images which were submitted in the form. If a character had two different pics we used one for the bracket graphic and one for the face off graphics (eg Princess Marianne). Since Rani had more than three submitted pictures, we rotated through them for the face off graphics. (we added one on each side for the finals) For the few which had no submitted pictures we used pictures from the wiki (usually the profile picture).

The backgrounds: On the general fairy side and for the bracket, we took frames from Fantasia/Fantasia 2000's segments (like the Nutcracker Suite). On the Disney Fairies side they were all scenery from the Tinker Bell movies. These were lightened to not distract from the matches. The Finals background was from Pinocchio.

The font we found by googling. The site is fontspace.com and the name is 'Botanink'

[oc-poll-tournament]

OC Poll Tournament Round 1 Character Announcement!

Thank you everyone who submitted! There are 12 characters in the running, so it will be a small tournament, but I hope to make this fun!

Here's the plan: I put the characters' names in a random wheel spinner, and whichever characters get pulled successfully will be up against each other in the first round poll! IF (and I'm totally not saying this because it happened, no way (sarcasm)) the wheel chooses two characters who are from the same writer, I'll reroll, since I don't think that's fair. I am putting the names of the characters and who they're up against down below, along with their pronouns and the blog that submitted them. If there's anything that needs to be changed, please let me know! After that, I'll work on the polls themselves, and I'll plan for them to be posted tomorrow at noon central time. They will be open for a week, so there's plenty of time to vote! If any of the participants wants to send me extra propaganda during the week, please send an ask or submit, so I can post the propaganda without comment. I think that's about it, but if anyone has any questions, please let me know!

Now, here are the characters and who they're up against!

Poll 1

Rodri (he/him) @grailfish

Crislie Crimsworth (she/her) @gailynovelry

Poll 2

Conor (he/him) @pen-of-roses

Athansios (he/him) @somealienquill

Poll 3

Levi (he/him) @abalonetea

Yuen (he/him) @grailfish

Poll 4

Valerio Álvarez (he/him) @lieutenant-amuel

Viper (she/her) @maple-writes

Poll 5

Meparik (he/him) @gailynovelry

Nat Finch (he/him) @albatris

Poll 6

Eddie Alfaro (she/her) @calicohyde

Chess (she/her) @concealeddarkness13

[voloslobotomyservice]

thank you @necroticyuzu for the tag! 💫 and thank you everyone who participated in my poll! I love talking about my little Tavs and I can’t stop making them so I’m always down to be tagged in these sorta things!

no pressure tags: @beesht @grandmother-goblin @auspex-author (yk I’m always down for Shior lore)

Name: Saoirse Nic’Phaid

Gender: female

Pronouns: she/her

Sexuality: mostly straight (but she’s working on defining it)

OTHER

Family: A complicated conversation. Older human father who’s unable to work, younger wood elf mother who abandons the family often, and an older brother Arthur who was tragically murdered five years before the events of BG3 took place.

Birthplace: Lower City of Baldur’s Gate.

Job: Criminal, I suppose? She doesn’t really have a traditional job. Instead, she’s spent most of her life stealing and then selling items to make a living. It even brought in more money than Arthur was making when he was alive and working.

Phobia: Thalassaphobia. She never learned how to swim.

Guilty Pleasure: Hooking up with problematic men. They oh-so-bad but oh-so-good in bed. Her own ex-boyfriend was a member of the Zhentarim, after all.

MORALS

Alignment: Neutral Evil - rather selfish in her actions, yet will help others who are similar her.

Sins: Theft. Lots of it. Jealousy, coveting what others may have knowing she could never have it. Will usually say whatever pops in her head without thinking it through first, which gets her in trouble. Can be very self-centered in different situations (ex. she refused to take poison from Nettie at the Grove after she didn’t help the party cure their tadpole)

Virtues: Loyal to those she loves, almost to a fault. When able to, very much a “steal from the rich to give to the poor” type. Believes honesty is the best policy (unless your life is at risk, then lying to save yourself is acceptable). Family is also very important to her, especially her father, and she tried to make sure he had well over a years worth of gold before going on the run.

THIS OR THAT

Introvert/Extrovert/Ambivert - Likes to be social but also enjoys time to herself. Tries to keep a healthy balance of both.

Organized/Disorganized - in some aspects of her life, at least. When it comes to her money, she’s very organized.

Close Minded/Open Minded - No defining reason. She just is.

Calm/Anxious/Restless - Being on the run for a crime she may (or may not) have committed, she is constantly looking over her shoulder to make sure she and her companions are safe (but mostly her).

Disagreeable/Agreeable - That is, if you see eye to eye with her.

Cautious/Reckless/In Between - After the loss of her brother, she was very reckless in her crimes and overall behavior, but she has calmed down a bit. She will still do risky things for the fun of it, though.

Patient/Impatient/In Between - Do not test her.

Outspoken/Reserved - Almost too outspoken for her own good.

Leader/Follower/Flexible - Because she’s very headstrong, she easily fell into the leader position of the party.

Empathetic/Unemphathetic - To those that are like her: who’ve struggled, who understand how hard life can be. Won’t listen to the sob story of some upper class elitist.

Optimistic/Pessimistic/Realist

Traditional/Modern/In Between

Hardworking/Lazy - But hardworking in the way that she’s taking from others… yeah I don’t like to think about the logistics of it too much.

RELATIONSHIPS

OTP: Don’t hate me. But. Saoirse is absolutely crushing on Aradin, despite how much of an ass he is. She thinks she can fix him. Maybe she can.

Other Ships: Hooks up with Rugan after rescuing him from the gnolls, which leads to an interesting throuple dynamic when they’re all in Baldur’s Gate.

BroTP: Surprisingly, she and Lae’zel get along swimmingly. Maybe it’s because they have similar personalities. She and Astarion also gossip about the drama between their camp companions, as well as tease each other over their romantic pursuits. Also apparently she and Shadowheart get along very well!

NoTP: Gale annoys her, but she also sees him as a powerful ally and a good companion. Thoroughly rejects any of his advances.

[huramuna]

wine red, tears gold - preview.

king aegon II x baratheon ofc

a 'what if aegon didn't get poisoned and the greens technically won the dance but at what cost' au. basically aegon, alicent, otto and jaehaera are the only greens alive. and larys i guess. someone get rid of this guy.

this is for my 100 followers poll. it was supposed to be a oneshot but will be a mini series in 3 or 4 parts. this is my first time writing aegon and it will also be somewhat of a character study.

thank you for 100 followers and everyone who participated in the poll. love <3

content: smut, canon typical misogyny, canon typical violence, angst, fluff, arranged marriage, touch-staved aegon, aegon isn't a r*pist in this au but he is still a bad person and has his vices, ofc and aegon need to go to therapy together, justice for jaehaera

its been so long - the living tombstone • nobody - mitski

She was plain, unbelievably plain. Long, curled brown hair desperately in need of a trim, a poorly tailored dress that needed to be more fitted at the waist, stature too small and unremarkable to stand up to anyone of importance. Oh, and picked cuticles, the spots of red eking out from her nail beds. Mayhaps she and his mother would get along just jolly, then. She was to be his prospective wife and bear him more heirs. He wanted to shove it back in the council’s face and say he has an heir, his only living child, Jaehaera. Melancholy and withdrawn as she was, she was his heir.

The council disagreed, allowing Borros Baratheon to shove his last unwed daughter at him like a piece of meat that no one wanted.

Her eyes wafted up to glance at him, every move of hers uncertain, cautious. She was so deathly aware of each minute gesture, her posture having to be adjusted to straighten every few minutes. 

Lyanna Baratheon wasn’t of prominent knowledge and reputation like her sisters, aptly named ‘the Four Storms’ – she didn’t remind Aegon at all of a stag or a doe, but rather something more diminutive and easily killed, like a prey animal. Mayhaps a rabbit– it would be an apt description, as she had giant eyes, brown –almost black– in their hue, a shiny glaze over them as she stared at the ground. Every so often, their eyes would meet, brown to violet, and she would look apt as Aegon thought she was.

A rabbit begging for its life.

[justplainwhump]

Season's Greetings

After last week's poll (thank you so much to everyone who participated!), here's the Christmas special for 238/training!Angel.

This is dedicated to and inspired by @angst-after-dark, Thane Barlow is their character.

As to be expected, it is pretty much leaning into smut. Enjoy!

[Making Angel]

Content/warnings: BBU, facility whump, institutional whump, nsfwhump, recorded whump, dubcon use of toys, male whumpers with female whumpee, whumper pov.

Walking through the hallways of facility 002 before Christmas was special, somehow. Even without any decoration among the sterile white, there was a festive mood to be felt, just from the way the handlers smiled when they greeted each other, or the spring to their steps.

The trainees wouldn't get any gifts for Christmas.

But the employees, they did.

As head handler, Jared Grimm had introduced various employee benefits; one of them a very popular Christmas tombola. Not everyone could get the main prize - taking home a pet over the holidays - especially not given the often more delicate nature of facility 002's acquisitions, but there were several more prizes: a full cleaning of the home before the relatives arrived, catering for Christmas dinner, a full styling and hairdo, all declared part of the facility's Domestics' training, all doing wonders for the workplace climate.

And there was of course, another choice group to receive Christmas gifts. Clients. Pretty much every case they handled in facility 002 was personal, meaningful for the prospective owners, and insanely price, too.

Personally tailored Season's Greetings were the least the facility could do.

Jared looked down at the instructions on his tablet. Alex had prepared a little script for each of the greetings. 238's prospective was to get a video. Technically, her primary handlers was meant to speak the opening words, but Alan Nguyen hadn't as much glanced at the notes, just lifted the Santa hat with two fingers and handed it back to Jared. "I did my professional due. Humiliating the girl. I will not humiliate myself for that douche and be his clown in a Santa hat. You do that alright."

Jared rolled his eyes. Arrogant douche himself. But Jared couldn't afford to annoy him - plus, he was the best handler they had, and there could be worse than spending some quality time with one of his trainees.

He pulled the hat over his head and nodded at the cameraman, waiting for his prompt to start speaking. "Good day, Mr Barlow! I'm Jared Grimm, WRU head handler, and it's my honor to send you Christmas greetings in the name of the entire company! We have a little something prepared for you behind this door, in honor of holiday season! Let's have a look!"

Jared got how it could feel little degrading indeed, playing the cheerful entertainer, but he was a WRU handler - he'd gone through worse for a lot less.

The door opened at a swipe of his card with a beep and a click, and cameraman panned to the door, filming through the crack where the dim flicker of christmas lights filled the room.

Angel, Alex had noted. Client seems to like angel analogies for this product (quote: "Make her be my Angel, and make her love it").

And they had taken this literally today.

Jared stared for a second, giving the cameraman time to slowly, carefully catch every detail of 238's flawless presentation.

She was wearing sheer white lingerie, that covered nothing yet emphasised everything. Her golden hair was curled into soft locks and crowned with a glittering halo, and small feathery wings strapped to her back over a short golden cape. Golden glitter was applied to her body as well, shimmering on her collarbone and chest.

She smiled at Jared, flirtatious and confident, curving her body in just the right ways for the camera to catch her.

She didn't kneel, though, to his slight dismay. It made sense for the order, of course. A luxury pet. For a demanding client.

Jared was a stranger to her - and she wouldn't kneel for just anyone.

"Well, good day, 002238," Jared said. There wasn't a script for her. Trainees didn't need to be told to act. Their entire being was a performance, and he expected her to excel at it. "You're special, aren't you? A very precious, very special pet for a very special owner." He reached out to clip a golden leash to the soft golden leather collar around her neck. (Prospective: "She will look better in a leash.")

"Of course I am," she whispered, and Jared was struck by the perfect counterpoints of the almost confident smile tugging at her lip and her gaze devoutly cast down. "I'm special for you, and I will be perfect for my owner."

Jared felt the pinpricks of an urge to discipline her, make her perfect for himself. It was part of her configuration of course, just like the part about not kneeling. A slight air of arrogance, but always submissive to her owner - and only him. Showing off her master's luxury.

Nguyen had outdone himself.

"You will be," Jared assured her, lifting her chin towards him. Glitter was smeared over her cheeks, too, sparkling between her freckles. "You're a beautiful product. Why don't you smile at the camera, tell your owner yourself? Season's greetings."

A soft blush blossomed on her cheeks underneath the gold, perfectly crafted, and still so natural. "He's... is he watching?"

"He is," Jared said.

Shivering, she sank to her knees. "Happy holidays, Sir," she whispered into the camera. "I can't wait to be yours."

"Why don't you show him just how much?"

"How?" She looked up at him, her dark eyes seeming even deeper among all the glitter.

"Get... Get on that table, 238." Jared didn't even try to hide the hoarse roughness tinting his voice. The product worked. It was always something else, if you hadn't trained them yourself. Even after more than two decades on the job, feeling that power over the entirety of another human was thrilling.

She got to her feet, with a grace that would seem natural to any outsider but perfectly matched that of any other WRU product, and swung herself on the edge of the table, legs dangling, upper body leaning backwards, presenting her cute breasts once more.

Jared's own trainees, back in the day, would've all been trained to be on their back already, presenting a whole different view.

This one was still keeping eye contact. Not with Jared, though. With the camera. "I hope I fullfil everything you desire." Her voice was tinted with arousal, and Jared couldn't even tell if it was fake or real. It didn't matter. Her hand ran over her body, playing with the straps tied around her, fingers idly circling her nipples.

The cameraman shifted his weight nervously, pressed his thighs together, and Jared smirked. She worked just as she should.

"Here," he mumbled, as he stepped in with the finishing decor - golden clamps, adorned with tiny bells that jingled when he fixed them to her nipples. The noise was lovely, but even more so was her sharp little gasp.

"238 isn't trained for pain," Jared said to the camera. "But she promised us, she'll take it for you."

"Anything," 238 said. "I love you, Sir. I love to be whatever you want me to be. I'm ready."

They hadn't told her to say that. Or what to do. But as any well trained Romantic should, when told to perform while none of her betters made a move, she did it on her own. She let herself sink onto her back on the padded table - finally - crossed her hands above her head and slowly, almost teasingly, opened her legs. This time, the gasp came from the camera man, staring at the diamond nestled in between her folds.

Jared bit back a chuckle. Yeah. That one was a sight.

"Good girl," he murmured, reaching for the seasonal fastenings he'd brought - a rough rope, entwined with fairy lights - and fixated her ankles to the table before he moved on to bind her hands above her head. "You'll be so good for your owner."

Still standing behind her head, he pulled a vibrator from his pocket, as golden as herself, and presented it to the camera. "Mr Barlow, here's your gift. The card we delivered to you held a small golden controller. Would you push the upper button on it?"

It took a moment, before the vibrator hummed to life in Jared's hand.

The pet shivered at the noise, already conditioned so perfectly, and a soft jingle sounded from the bells on her.

"And now press the other?"

238 back arched, and she let out a surprised cry of pain, the bells rattling.

Jared reached out and ran a caressing finger over her breast. "There's electrodes in the clamps, at your free disposal."

Jared pulled back his hand a second up late, when she seizured again, his hand thrumming with the remainder of a tiny shock. Seemed like the owner's kind of humor. Great then. He'd hopefully enjoy this whole display.

"Be good, 238," Jared whispered to her. "He's watching."

The vibrator was buzzing in his hand, wildly alive, as he slid it into her with practised ease.

She was wet already. If Jared assessed correctly, she'd stay so for a long, long while. Her owner wouldn't make this easy for her.

But then again, that was exactly what they'd made her for.

Jared waved at the camera, now mounted on a tripod. "Merry Christmas, Mr Barlow. We'll leave you to it in private now."

The cameraman swallowed, as he stepped back, wiping his palms on his pants. "You can wait in the observation room," Jared said to him, quietly enough for the camera not to catch their voices. "There's tissues, if you need them."

Jared might tune into the livestream from his office he thought. Or not. After all, he'd definitely be the one to get the privilege of being with 238 after Barlow was done. He preferred being the only one in charge.

He pulled off the Santa hat and ruffled a hand through his hair, ignoring the pet's moans behind him. As he followed the cameraman outside and raised his card to lock the door, the last thing he heard was the pet's sincere whisper.

"I love you, Sir."