#Deep South Wrestling

[xomegaman]

A young and handsome Kenny Omega on Deep South Wrestling 😍

[divacrave]

Deep South Wrestling TV

Deep South Wrestling was WWE's developmental territory from 2005 - 2007.

2006

January 12 - Angel Williams vs Tracy Taylor

March 9 - Michelle McCool vs Tracy Taylor

June 15 - Kristal Marshall vs Tracy Taylor

June 22 - Tracy Taylor vs Krissy Vaine

June 29 - Tracy Taylor & Mike Taylor vs Krissy Vaine & Matt Striker

August 3 - Krissy Vaine vs Tracy Taylor 

August 10 - Krissy Vaine vs Shantelle Taylor

October 5 - Tracy Taylor & Shantelle Taylor vs Krissy Vaine & Angel Williams

November 9 - Angel Williams vs Tracy Taylor

2007

January 4 - Brooke vs Angel Williams

January 11 - Angel Williams vs Shantelle Taylor

January 18 - Angel Williams & Shantelle Taylor vs Luscious & Tracy Taylor

February 8 - Angel Williams vs Krissy Vaine

February 22 - Angel Williams vs Melissa Coates

March 8 - Krissy Vaine vs Nattie Neidhart

March 15 - Krissy Vaine & Angel Williams vs Nattie Neidhart & Krissy Vaine

April 5 - Nattie Neidhart vs Krissy Vaine

April 12 - Nattie Neidhart & Shantelle Taylor vs Krissy Vaine & Angel Williams

[ringthedamnbell]

Wrestling With Sin: 486

This is the 486th installment of the ‘Wrestling with Sin‘ series. A group of stories that delves into the darker, underbelly of pro wrestling. Many of the stories involve such subjects as sex, drugs, greed and in some cases even murder!

Brian Damage This is the 486th installment of the ‘Wrestling with Sin‘ series. A group of stories that delves into the darker, underbelly of pro wrestling. Many of the stories involve such subjects as sex, drugs, greed and in some cases even murder! As with every single story in the Sin series, I do not condone or condemn the alleged participants. We simply retell their stories by researching…

[topflights]

CM Punk’s signature moves, part 4 of ?

Pepsi Plunge (diving pedigree)

[keekee-23]

Unexpected Melodies

A Damian Priest x Y/N fluff fanfiction

Side Note: Today is my birthday (Let the Libra season begin ♎️⚖️!), and I love me some jazz! I thought I would share another one-shot fic! Happy Fall, everyone!

Summary: Damian surprises Y/N with jazz festival tickets for her birthday, leading to a night of music and unexpected feelings between the two close friends.

Y/N was lounging in her New Jersey apartment, sipping on her favorite tea and reflecting on her upcoming birthday. It had been a tough year, filled with ups and downs, but she was grateful for the good friends in her life, especially Damian. Despite his busy wrestling schedule, he always found time to check in on her, offering words of encouragement and friendship that she deeply appreciated.

She glanced at her phone and saw a notification. It was a text from Damian: “Hey, what are your plans for your birthday this year?”

Y/N smiled, her heart warming at the thought of him remembering. She quickly replied, “Hey, D,” Y/N answered, leaning back on her couch.

“Hey, birthday girl,” Damian’s deep voice came through the phone, making her smile even wider. “Got any special plans for the big day?”

“Not really,” she admitted. “Just the usual dinner with the family. Maybe some drinks with friends. Nothing too crazy.”

There was a pause on the other end before Damian spoke again, his voice carrying a hint of excitement. “Well, I’ve got a little surprise for you.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh? What kind of surprise?”

“I’ll give you a hint,” Damian teased. “It involves music, relaxation, and spending some quality time with one of your favorite people.”

Y/N laughed. “Music and relaxation? Sounds like a spa day or something.”

“Not quite,” he said. “How do you feel about the South Jersey Jazz Festival?”

Her heart skipped a beat. The South Jersey Jazz Festival was one of her favorite events, and she hadn’t been able to attend in years. She loved jazz music, and the thought of being there, enjoying the performances and the atmosphere, made her giddy.

“I love the jazz festival,” she said, her voice full of excitement. “But what’s that got to do with—”

“Check your email,” Damian interrupted with a grin she could practically hear.

Furrowing her brow, Y/N quickly opened her email app. Her eyes widened as she saw a message from Damian with the subject line: Happy Birthday, Y/N! She clicked on it and gasped as she saw the attachment: two tickets to the South Jersey Jazz Festival.

“Damian, oh my God!” she exclaimed, her voice full of shock. “Are you serious?”

“Completely serious,” he replied, his tone smug. “I thought it would be a great way to celebrate your birthday. You love jazz, and I figured, why not?”

“But you’re into heavy metal!” Y/N protested, still reeling from the surprise. “Are you sure this is something you want to do?”

“I’m more into heavy metal, yes, but I also know how much you love jazz,” Damian said. “Besides, I think it’s high time I broaden my musical horizons. And who better to do that with than you?”

Y/N was silent for a moment, overwhelmed by his thoughtfulness. It wasn’t just the tickets or the festival itself; it was the fact that Damian was willing to step out of his comfort zone just to make her happy.

“You’re amazing, you know that?” she said softly, her heart full of gratitude.

“I try,” he said, a playful lilt to his voice. “So, what do you say? You and me, the jazz festival, your birthday?”

“Yes, absolutely yes!” she exclaimed, her excitement bubbling over. “Thank you so much, Damian. This is the best birthday surprise ever.”

“I’m glad you like it,” he said warmly. “I’ll fly up the day before, and we can hang out and catch up. It’s been too long.”

“I can’t wait,” Y/N said, her heart fluttering at the thought of seeing him again. “This is going to be so much fun.”

Two days later, Y/N found herself anxiously waiting outside the entrance to the South Jersey Jazz Festival. She glanced around the bustling crowd, her heart pounding with anticipation. When she finally spotted Damian, her heart did a little flip. He stood tall, his dark hair tied back, wearing a casual black button-up shirt and jeans—a stark contrast to his usual edgy wrestling attire. He looked surprisingly relaxed, even though he was completely out of his element.

“Hey, birthday girl!” he called out, waving as he made his way over.

“Damian!” Y/N ran up to him, wrapping him in a tight hug. “I can’t believe you’re here. And I can’t believe you did this for me.”

Damian hugged her back, his strong arms enveloping her in warmth. “I’d do anything to see you smile like that,” he said softly, pulling back just enough to look at her. “Ready for some jazz?”

“More than ready!” Y/N beamed, her excitement palpable.

As they walked into the festival grounds, Y/N couldn’t help but steal glances at Damian. She knew how different this scene was for him, yet he seemed at ease, more focused on her than anything else. The festival was alive with the sounds of saxophones, trumpets, and smooth melodies drifting through the air. Vendors sold everything from gourmet food to handmade crafts, and the crowd was a mix of jazz enthusiasts, families, and curious onlookers.

They found their seats near the main stage, the perfect spot to enjoy the performances. Y/N noticed Damian glancing around, taking in the scene with interest.

“So, what do you think?” she asked, her curiosity piqued.

“It’s… different,” he said with a thoughtful nod. “But not bad. I can see why you love it. It’s got a vibe.”

Y/N grinned, nudging him playfully. “You’re not secretly a jazz fan now, are you?”

He laughed, shaking his head. “Don’t push your luck, Y/N. But I’m here for you, so I’m willing to give it a shot.”

The first set began, and the music was mesmerizing. Y/N closed her eyes, letting the soulful notes wash over her. She felt Damian’s arm drape over the back of her chair, a casual, protective gesture that made her heart flutter. When she opened her eyes and turned to him, she found him watching her with a soft smile.

“What?” she asked, feeling a bit self-conscious under his gaze.

“Nothing,” he said, shrugging. “Just… I’m glad you’re happy. That’s all.”

Y/N felt a warmth spread through her chest. “I am happy. And it’s all thanks to you.”

They continued to enjoy the performances, laughing and talking between sets. Damian surprised her by knowing a few of the artists, which led to Y/N playfully accusing him of being a closet jazz fan. He took it all in stride, clearly enjoying the banter.

As the night wore on, the music became more lively, and the crowd began to sway and dance to the rhythm. Y/N watched couples twirling and moving to the beat, a wistful smile on her face.

“You want to dance?” Damian’s voice broke through her thoughts.

She looked at him, a bit startled. “Dance? I… I don’t know, Damian. I’m not exactly good at it.”

“Neither am I,” he admitted, standing up and holding out his hand. “But it’s your birthday, and I want to make it special. Come on.”

Y/N hesitated for only a moment before taking his hand. He led her to an open space where others were dancing, and they awkwardly began to move together. Y/N couldn’t help but laugh at the sight of Damian, a towering figure who could command an arena full of wrestling fans, now trying to sway gently to jazz music.

“You’re really out of your element, aren’t you?” she teased, her eyes sparkling.

“Completely,” he said, smiling down at her. “But I’d rather be here, looking like an idiot with you, than anywhere else.”

Y/N felt her heart skip a beat. She hadn’t realized just how much she’d needed this—this simple, joyful moment. As they swayed to the music, she rested her head on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart. For the first time in a long time, she felt at peace.

The song ended, and they reluctantly pulled apart. Damian’s hand lingered on her waist, and for a moment, Y/N thought he might say something. But he simply smiled, his eyes warm and steady.

“You want to grab a drink?” he asked.

“Sure,” she replied, her voice soft.

They made their way to one of the nearby vendors, grabbing a couple of drinks and finding a quieter spot to sit. The night air was cool, and the stars twinkled above them. They sat close, their shoulders touching, comfortable in the silence.

“Thank you for today, Damian,” Y/N said quietly, staring at her drink. “I know it wasn’t your scene, but it means a lot that you came all the way here. You’ve been such a good friend.”

Damian looked at her, his expression unreadable. “Y/N, I didn’t just come because it was your birthday. I came because… I care about you. A lot. And I want to see you happy, more than anything.”

Y/N’s heart raced. She looked up at him, searching his eyes. There was something there—something deeper than friendship. But before she could speak, Damian leaned forward and gently kissed her forehead.

“Happy birthday,” he whispered, his voice filled with emotion.

Y/N closed her eyes, feeling a rush of warmth spread through her. “Thank you, Damian. For everything.”

They sat there for a while longer, talking and laughing, enjoying the night. And as they listened to the distant sounds of jazz music, Y/N realized that this was one of the best birthdays she’d ever had. Not because of the festival or the music, but because of the person sitting beside her.

With Damian by her side, everything felt just a little bit brighter.

[gatorbites-imagines]

Kinktober day 7

Mickey Milkovich + Wrestling or sparring

Still been studying, thanks to my teacher giving us twice as much work than usual, so this isn’t as long as I would have wanted.

I have no idea what warning to put for Mickey talking and thinking the way he does, but mickey warning I guess??

kinktober 2023 masterlist

Mickey Milkovich wasn’t the type to go down without a fight, it laid deep in his blood to never go down, and if he did, to go down swinging. Even just playfighting always lead to real scuffling or outright fighting resulting in bloody noses or knocked out teeth. Apparently, he had anger issues, and they always seemed to flare right up when someone got him swinging. It was why he found himself in some less than stellar gym in the south side, run by some gay guy and his friends.

Everyone knew about the gym’s main owner, (Y/N), his family had lived in the south side as long as anyone else’s, were mixed up in the same stuff as everyone else, and got into trouble like everyone else. Only difference about this guy was that he was openly gay, and would knock anyone out cold if they tried to target him for it. Mickey had found him at the ends of his fists a couple of times, and had always woken up with the sickest migraines, maybe even concussions, though he had never gone to the hospital about it.

(Y/N) had left the south side for a while, apparently he was off to get an education on a scholarship, but strangely enough he had returned to the shithole that was the south side. No one had recognized him as first. He left as a skinny guy who packed an insanely mean left and right hook, and came back packed in muscle and taller, with a confidence that few saw in gay guys in the south side. His muscles weren’t for show either, as rumors quickly spread that his hits were not only harder but quicker than ever.

Then he had opened up a gym for anyone who wasn’t gonna start trouble, and if you did start trouble, he took care of you real quick and efficiently. He had quirked a brow as Mickey stepped into the gym, but like he never questioned the local gun dealer being there, he wasn’t gonna question a milkovich being there as long as he paid. Mickey went about his business, taking out some of his burning anger on the punching bags, trying to put all the hatred and anger in his soul into those punches.

Mickey almost swung around and knocked (Y/N)s teeth out when the taller guy had placed his hand on Mickeys shoulder. “You’re standing all wrong, you’ll mess up your shoulders” he explained, his strong hands grabbing Mickeys arms and pulling him into the better pose.

Mickey wasn’t gonna ever admit that he felt warmth rise to his cheeks as (Y/N) grabbed him and moved him around, it was just cuz the guy was eyecandy around the south side. Few guys cared about their appearance around this part, so seeing a guy who actually bathed on the regular and walked around in tight tank tops always caught Mickeys attention. If Mickey wasn’t the type to deny himself so much, he might have seen how his appreciating stares were returned.

One night when Mickey showed up to the gym, a time where there were never anyone around but the owner, he had been stewing in anger. The punching bags just didn’t seem to be enough, even as Mickey cursed and made his knuckles bleed. (Y/N) had sauntered up in that tight tank top and a pair of sweats that left little to the imagination and goaded Mickey into a spar in the wrestling part of the gym.

In reality it was just some mats laid on the floor and against the walls, no way a place like this could afford an actually wresting ring, but it was good enough. Good enough for Mickey to charge at the guy, his normal south side approach foiled by (Y/N)s actual talent for fighting. Mickey only grew more and more angry the more he kept losing, even as his muscles ached and burned, even as he found himself pinned over and over against the mats.

Mickey growled at the smile on (Y/N)s lips, the guy had been smiling the entire time, and though he was sweating and breathing harder, it was in no way as much as Mickey himself. Even as Mickeys moves grew sloppy as he felt exhaustion creep up on him, his pride wouldn’t let him just give up or call quits.

(Y/N) must have felt some pity, as he finally let Mickey pin him, Mickey crouched above his head, pinning his shoulders with his legs and holding the taller man’s arms above his head. “Good job Mick, you finally got it” he laughed, looking almost too pleased as Mickey panted above him. “That deserves a reward, right?” he almost purred, and before Mickey could question it, (Y/N) had freed his hands and reached up towards the waistband on Mickeys pants.

Mickey choked on his breath as (Y/N) dragged his pants down, freeing Mickeys half hard length to the heated air of the gym. The sparring must have gotten the blood pumping in Mickeys system, and he shivered. On instinct alone Mickey almost jumped to his feet and spat some homophobic comment, but before he could warm lips wrapped around his tip and sucked him down, a broken gasp slipping from Mickeys lips at the action.

(Y/N)s hands gripped Mickeys hips as he lifted his torso to keep bopping his head, taking Mickey down his throat with skill one only got from repeating an action many times. Mickey gripped onto (Y/N)s hair as he thrust his hips with little to no rhythm, panting from the strain in his muscles and the pleasurable feeling as he grew fully hard, his toes curling in his shoes as he shivered.

Mickey groaned as he spilled down (Y/N)s throat, his muscles finally giving out, and if it wasn’t for (Y/N) catching him, he would have tumbled down onto the mats beneath them. Mickey didn’t even notice the murmured praise leaving the taller man, even as he tucked Mickeys spent length back into his pants or rubbed his sore muscles. Mickey didn’t even fully comprehend that he was pulled into what looked like a back room, or that he was placed on a comfortable sofa, or even that he dozed off.

It seemed that the energy that hadn’t been wrung out of him from the wrestling, had been sucked right out of him by the very man that had goaded him into said fight. (Y/N) gave a snort as he watched Mickey become dead to the world, leaving a water bottle beside him before leaving the office to go disinfect the mats. This might be the south side, but he was at least semi professional and serious about his business’s hygiene.

[ddejavvu]

Love to think that Anakin purposefully lets you land hits on him during training so that he can go back to his rooms and press and poke his bruises you’d give him. He’d imagine it was you, and it gets him so rock hard

-el (@anakin-skywalker-always)

i had to take a deep breath after i read this... i wanna beat the shit out of him <333

obvious cw for impact play/masochism, don't read if it'll bother you

this post is 18+, minors dni.

you notice that after the first couple of times that you spar by chance, he ends up standing conveniently next to you in your saber class from then on. he tries to play it off as just having found a seat/corner that he really likes and maybe you believe it, maybe you don't, but what he's really after is to get you to beat the crap out of him. he finds out that this is so enticing after only your first session together, because you were partnered together by chance and he'd stayed up a little too late watching a holoshow and after three tries obi-wan probably gave up on telling him to get some sleep. so he's tired and a little grouchy (he's absolutely pissy) but the one thing he's a master at over all else is dueling, right? he flourishes in his saber classes, he steps up to it with a liiiiittle too much confidence, and it only takes one second late for his sleep-lagged brain to register your foot heading for his face until your heel is ramming into his jaw and he's knocked to the floor.

you're not thirteen anymore, you're either older padawans or already knights, so no one monitors your matches too closely. you won't be reprimanded for kicking him rather than swinging your saber, because this class is less about learning the different forms of dueling and more about honing your sparring skills to fight in actual battles. your move had been totally fair, and if he'd just gone to bed on time, he'd have seen it coming and been able to block it, but now he's knocked on his ass with a searing pain in his jaw, wide eyes, and a feeling he should not be experiencing now of all times below the belt. he stares back up at you, and at first, he's pissed. how dare you beat him at his best game, how dare you fight dirty and knock The Chosen One on his butt in front of the entire class? but then he watches your sly smirk as you stare down at him, your saber still ignited as you hold it by your side, and he fully registers what that misplaced sensation is down below, and oh maker he thinks you're so fucking hot.

he's a little slow to get back up on his feet, and he's ridiculously grateful for the loose jedi garb that hides his predicament from you. he nods once, trying not to let it show on his face that he'd actually liked getting k.o'd by you, and gears up for another fight.

he doesn't want to seem too obvious, but he wants to test his theory again. so he lets you win roughly half of your matches, and the other half, he uses the rest of his quickly dwindling energy to overpower you. he has a fleeting thought that you might also be taking pity on him for having such an off day and you might be letting him win, but that bruises his ego too much and that's about the only part of him he doesn't want you to bruise, so he pushes the thought away.

he's careful to avoid your saber, but you quickly catch on that hand-to-hand combat is what usually trips him up, and you're very generous with the punches and kicks you throw his way. every time his body makes rushed contact with the mat below him, whether it be his shoulder slamming against it when you knock his feet out from under him, or his nose cracking against it and leaving behind a dull ache, he lets the pain spread through his body, letting it rush straight south to his embarrassingly stiff cock. he feels so juvenile, popping a boner in class, but he wrestles it down as much as possible before your session is up. he relishes the surprisingly arousing feel of your knuckles smashing against his face or arm, and kriff it feels so good when you knee him just above the dick, somewhere on the left side of his waist. Like you know he's achingly hard beneath his flowy tunics, like you're teasing him.

he passes up the opportunity to eat after the session is dismissed, and rushes straight back to his quarters. he locks himself in the bathroom and sees a bruise quickly forming at his jaw where you'd initially kicked him. peeling away the layers of his robes, he finds several more aching splotches across his tanned skin, a sight that makes him greedy for more. he tentatively pushes his fingers into one on his side and though his instinct is to get away from the pain, his fingers press relentlessly into him as his cock twitches in his briefs. he moans, he audibly and uncontrollably moans at that first contact, feeling the memory resurface of your elbow jamming into his skin and staining it black and blue.

he gets off three times in the bathroom before his next engagement. three times. he tugs on his cock with embarrassing desperation as he uses his other hand to aggravate the painful marks you'd left all over his body, each persistent push of his digits against a bruise flooding shameful heat and pain through him. he cums on his hand, then his stomach, and by the third orgasm he slumps against the wall and zones out while staring at a bruise you'd left on his thigh. he cleans up and gets himself re-dressed, but the bruise on his jaw is still tantalizingly visible. he inspects it, turns his face to the side while his eyes track it in the mirror. his mind conjures up the most delicious image of your mouth latched onto the mark, sucking and biting and making it worse, so much worse. he wants you to make him worse, he wants you to pummel him into the ground and then bite at all of his bumps and bruises until he's blacking out from the pain. his exhausted dick threatens to jump in his briefs at the image so he pushes it down, if only to be on time for his next class or meeting or meditation or whatever else he's got planned for the day. he does, however, revisit the image in his quarters later that night, where he again receives shamefully less sleep than he should. this time, though, he's not taken by a holodrama, he's enamored with the thought of you beating him up further, and he formulates a shoddy, half-baked plan to get you to knock him around some more.

he spends the next few sparring sessions as your partner, once again pretending he's losing to you a fair amount of times. you grow to be friends, if you weren't already, and you even touch the bruise on his jaw before it fades completely. you brush your fingers over it softly, apologetically, like you're trying not to hurt him, when all he really wants you to do is slap the mark, slam your hand against his face so that it gets worse, not better.

after those few sparring sessions, whoever's officially supervising you realizes that you two are always together. he doesn't want either of you to fall into a rhythm of each other's fighting styles, doesn't want things to be predictable or easy, so he bans you from being partnered for a while. he tells you both to find new partners, and while you shoot him a sympathetic smile, anakin's busy glaring holes into the back of the master's head when he walks away. he feels that rush of anger again, like he had when you'd first knocked him over, but this time of course it doesn't fade to pleasure. it burns white hot through his body, how dare they take you away from him? how dare they try to separate you? and he almost feels bad for taking that anger out on the poor man he'd had to partner with. he doesn't feel the need to fake a loss with the guy, and he pulls victories in every single match that they have together, just like he used to before he discovered his penchant for pain. for your pain, for your violence.

he uses this as an excuse, though. to ask you to spar with him outside of your classes. he pitches this sob story about how everyone else in the class isn't as good as you are, and how you're the only one he can't consistently beat. how you two should start sparring on the side, to keep each other on your toes. and of course you agree, because you're friends with him now, and you're somewhat ego-boosted by the thought of being too good at sparring for anakin skywalker to beat.

private sparring sessions are so much better, anakin finds. there's no audience, no one to marvel at how he so easily drops to the mat after a punch from you. no one to call your attention over to them, even for a second. it's just the two of you, and you always lose track of time and spar for hours. it means that anakin leaves your sparring sessions a lot more broken and bruised than he typically did from your classes, which only means more late nights relentlessly jacking himself off while pressing his hand against the marks.

when he does it he snaps his eyes shut, imagining it's your hand. he likes seeing the bruises, but he likes imagining that you're the one aggravating them even more, so he screws his eyes shut and pokes at the spots until they scream with pain. his other hand is busy beating his dick, slicked with his own spit but well-smeared with precum now, as he drives his fingers against his own sore spots envisioning you tormenting him further. his breathing comes hot and heavy and panted as he does it, aching chest convulsing as he spits the foulest stream of huttese curses he can fathom. his teeth are clenched and his fist is too, accidentally squeezing his poor abused red-tipped cock too hard and only hurting himself further. there’s something so carnal and feral and lustful about the thought of you doing it on purpose, you bursting blood beneath his skin and hitting him, staining his skin with the residue of your want for him. he gets off every night, multiple times a night to the vision of you sneering at him, slapping his sore spots and biting at them until he's in agony. he truly doesn't know why his brain has crosswired pleasure and pain, but he'll let you beat the shit out of him any day, if it means he gets to fuck his fist later and pretend you're the one poking and prodding at his bruises until he cums hard.

[missisjoker]

Cannibal!Cregan

When Cregan Stark mixes his northern blood with the fiery blood of Jacaerys Velarion, the magic stirs beneath the roots of the weirwood tree and bursts free, like the fire of the Fourteen Flames.

Soon after the southern prince leaves for Dragonstone, Lord Stark starts having dreams. He's had similar dreams before- tracing the autumn forest with soft steps of a wild cat, watching Winterfell from above through the eagle's eyes, hunting elk in the skin of a dire wolf.

But it was never... this. He felt wild and untamed and beastly before, but now? He feels like his veins are like molten metal burning from within, a deep-rooted fire churning with every heartbeat. His dreams are filled with ash and smoke, and he soon realizes he must be dreaming of being a dragon.

So, he writes to Jace to ask for advice. But he can't say it outright, or else his prince - and naturally, the Queen- would think he's lost his wits. So, he tries to be a little more cryptic, hoping Jace would understand since the prince's family is no stranger to magic or dragons.

Jace, in his eagerness of youth, misses the meaning completely and instead thinks Cregan is trying to confess his love for him (and Cregan does love him deeply, but he would tell that face to face, not betray it to a piece of parchment). He writes back, confessing his own feelings.

That almost wrecks Cregan- because he wishes to have his prince next to him, to kiss him eagerly, to mate him... All while his dragon dreams become more fierce, and more real.

It takes him a few nights to make peace with the thought that he is warging into a dragon- an untamed and wild dragon at that. It takes him a few more weeks of excruciating battle of wills to bind the dragon to his mind. He doesn't want to, but he is a practical man. If using this gift fulfills his promise to Jace and stops the war, and if it spares the lives of his men- then so be it. The dragon is unrelenting, so Cregan sends more letters to Jace explaining his predicament, his fear that he will lose his mind to the beast, and, if that's the case- his final loving farewell to his prince.

Then he prepares himself, wrestles full control from the dragon, and flies to King's Landing. He perches on the Red Keep's tower, watching as the guards scramble below, waiting. Then, when he sees a man with targaryen white hair and a crown, he eats him. When another blond man with an eye patch comes running out of the gate, he eats him too. And then he leaves.

Cregan comes back to his senses drenched in sweat, shivering and aching. He marched after the greybeards south, but didn't make much progress because dragon dreams left him almost crippled. He only manages to finish a bath and dress up when he hears in the back of his scull Vermax screech and roar in the skies above; and then he sees his prince land into the yard.

Jace throws himself on Cregan, worried sick and horrified to lose him, but also incredibly grateful and amazed... because only a few hours before he was told that a wild, riderless dragon has eaten the usurper and Aemong and thus ended the war.

Cregan drinks up Jace's kisses and tears like a drowning man gulps for air, but has to stop because he feels - deep in his bones- that the dragon he warged into, the Cannibal, is furious and coming for his vengeance. Dragon is no slave, and he will have to pay the price.

He tells Jace to leave, that he will face the beast alone, but Jace cups his face in his princely hands and tells him no. They will face whatever the gods send their way together. Besides, Jace might just be able to deal with the dragon.

(Everybody lives. Jace proves he can charm anyone- including a wild, angry, untamed dragon out for blood. Cannibal gets a herd of 50 sheep for devouring and another 10 sheep weekly doordashed to his lair on Dragonstone. Vermax gets a new grumpy friend. Cregan gets a rider.)

[toriluvsnickwayne]

Double Dates

Bo Dallas x Reader

Requested : yes/no

After some convincing from a mutual friend Y/N and Jojo decide to agree to go on a blind double date.

Masterlist

Lana corners Y/N and Jojo backstage at the arena, a sly grin spreading across her face. "Girls, I have a proposition for you..."

"What is it, Lana?" Y/N asks, adjusting her entrance gear.

"I've got two friends who are brothers, and they're looking for a double date... blind double date, to be exact," Lana says, her voice low and conspiratorial.

Jojo raises an eyebrow, checking her makeup in a mirror. "Blind double date? You mean, we don't know anything about them?"

"Exactly!" Lana replies. "But trust me, they're great guys. And who knows, maybe you'll even hit it off... you could use some fun, Y/N!"

Y/N playfully rolls her eyes. "Hey, I have plenty of fun... but okay, fine. Who are these mystery brothers?"

Lana just winks. "All I'll say is... they're in the business. And they're interested in meeting you both."

"Girl, I'm so nervous! What if our dates are total duds?" Y/N exclaims, fidgeting with her sweater as Jojo does her hair.

"Aww, don't be! We're in this together, and who knows, maybe we'll even have a blast with these guys," Jojo replies, securing a stray curl.

"I know, right? I'm trying not to think about it... but I do know they're brothers," Y/N says, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, that's all we know! The mysterious brothers... I wonder what they're like," Jojo adds, intrigued.

"Okay, but if things go south, we're making a break for it and getting ice cream, deal?" Y/N asks, eyes sparkling.

"Deal! And remember, we're doing this together - blind double date, here we go!" Jojo says, grinning as they head out to meet their mysterious dates.

Y/N and Jojo giggle nervously as they slide into the backseat of the car, trying to calm their jitters.

"Okay, so we know nothing about them except they're brothers... this is wild," Y/N whispers to Jojo.

"I know, right? I hope they're not, like, creepy or anything," Jojo replies, checking her phone for what feels like the hundredth time.

The driver, a friendly woman, asks about their favorite music, and Y/N and Jojo eagerly discuss their shared love of indie rock.

As they approach the restaurant, Y/N's nerves start to flutter again - what will these mysterious brothers be like?

Jojo gives Y/N's hand a reassuring squeeze - they're in this together, after all!

Y/N and Jojo arrive at the restaurant, looking stylish and a bit nervous.

They approach the front desk, where a friendly hostess greets them. "Hi, welcome! Do you have a reservation?"

Y/N smiles. "Yeah, we're meeting some... friends. Lana made the reservation."

The hostess nods, checking her book. "Ah, yes! Right this way, please."

She leads them to a cozy table in the back, where two guys are already seated, sipping drinks.

Y/N's heart skips a beat as she takes in the sight of Bo, looking handsome and relaxed in a button-down shirt.

Jojo, meanwhile, can't help but notice Bray's intense gaze, his eyes fixed on her as they approach.

The hostess introduces them, and they exchange awkward but charming hellos.

As they sit down, Y/N whispers to Jojo, "Well, this is it... wish us luck!"

Jojo grins back, "We got this!"

- As they sit down, Bo stands up to greet Y/N, his smile warm and friendly. "Hey, I'm Bo. It's great to finally meet you."

Y/N feels a spark of electricity as their hands touch briefly. "Yeah, same to you. I'm Y/N."

Bray, meanwhile, nods at Jojo, his eyes never leaving hers. "Bray. Nice to meet you, Jojo."

Jojo feels a shiver run down her spine as she smiles back at him. "Likewise, Bray."

The conversation starts a bit awkwardly, but as they order drinks and start talking, Y/N and Jojo begin to relax.

Bo regales them with stories of his wrestling antics, making Y/N giggle.

Bray, meanwhile, engages Jojo in a deep conversation about art and music, surprising her with his thoughtful insights.

As the night wears on, Y/N and Jojo can't help but sneak glances at each other, both thinking... this might actually work out!

As the main courses arrive, Bo turns to Y/N and asks, "So, what do you like to do for fun?"

As they finish their meals and order dessert, Y/N and Jojo can't help but notice the chemistry between them and their dates.

Bo reaches out and playfully brushes a strand of hair behind Y/N's ear, sending shivers down her spine.

Bray, meanwhile, covers Jojo's hand with his own, his touch sending sparks through her body.

As the night winds down, Bo and Bray get up to pay the bill, leaving Y/N and Jojo alone at the table.

"Oh my god, can you believe those two?" Jojo whispers to Y/N, fanning herself dramatically.

"I know, right? Bo is so charming and sweet!" Y/N replies, giggling.

"And Bray is so intense and brooding! I love it," Jojo adds, swooning.

Just then, Bo and Bray return, smiling and laughing together.

"Ready to go?" Bo asks Y/N, offering his arm.

Y/N takes it, and they all exit the restaurant together.

As soon as they're in the car, Y/N and Jojo burst into squeals and giggles.

"OH MY GOD, THAT WAS AMAZING!" Y/N screams.

- "I KNOW, RIGHT? BO IS JUST PERFECT FOR YOU!” Jojo adds.

- "AND BRAY WAY SO NICE AND SWEET TO YOU!" Y/N fangirls.

They continue to scream and laugh, reliving the highlights of their date.

"Best. Night. Ever," Y/N declares, still grinning from ear to ear.

Author’s Note : heyyyy I almost didn’t feel like putting out a story tdy. Not in the best mood from yesterdays summerslam and now ive torn abt breaking up w my boyfriend but that’s a story for another time. Js been contemplating if once I finish writing getting hooked and was gonna write that love story w Dom,Damian, and jey since the judgment days broken up. I’m sure I’ll figure it out and if I have to I’ll change a few characters maybe. I js know tmr Monday night raw will be a BLAST and can not wait especially since im going to see it. I live in Philly so its kinda(not rlly) close as always lots of loveeeeee- Tori❤️❤️

[ringthedamnbell]

Grappling With Tragedy: Damian Steele

Grappling With Tragedy: Damian Steele

Brian Damage Grappling with Tragedy is a series of articles that deal with unfortunate, tragic incidents that have occurred throughout the history of professional wrestling. It is unlike the ‘Wrestling with Sin’ series that deals more with the seedier side of wrestling like arrests, murders and suicides. Grappling looks more at particular tragic incidents that have in some instances altered pro…

[indierpgnewsletter]

Every Game I Played in 2024 (So Far)

It’s time for one of my favourite posts to write every year. Here is every game I’ve played in the first half of 2024:

Series

Fathoms Deep (as GM): Let’s get my own game out of the way first: I’ve ran about 11 playtest sessions of Fathoms Deep, a game about a community of salvagers aboard a living ship in a flooded world. The game is my big project. If I was studying game design, this would be my masters’ thesis. It’s got a lot of parts – action-packed underwater dives using my flavour of card-based Forged in the Dark, a cool map where you move your ship around, downtime scenes, campaign arcs based on survival, hope and salvation, etc. There’s a lot of tinkering left to do and I am in no hurry to finish because, deep breath, it’s about the journey! Like in the game!

Pasion de la Pasiones (as GM): We took the spanish telenovela game and set it in a X-men-like school. Sadly we didn’t get to play past the first couple sessions but it’s a slam dunk concept and a great game. My game of the year for 2023 if I remember correctly!

The Wildsea (as GM): This was the big campaign that marked the first half of the year in my (online) home game. It has a lot of overlap with my own game, Fathoms Deep – both are pirate-games-without-pirates. But Wildsea has a very different tone – it’s optimistic high fantasy in the vein of some of the best D&D 5e games I’ve played. I would easily recommend it as a game for people who are playing 5e and want something to easily switch to. The world and setting is lovely – a solid thematic core garnished with a variety of fun ideas, great flavour, and lots of stunning, evocative art. I had so much fun playing zany characters to match the vibe of the zany world. The system isn’t my cup of tea for a variety of complicated reasons but this is a fantastic achievement, especially since it was the designer’s first game afaik!

Rich Kid Problems: Last year, I played Capitalites by Sam Mui and this year, we returned to that classic genre of rich people behaving badly with this game by Maria Mison. It’s a light storygame – improv heavy but good fun.

Last Fleet (as GM): We’re one month into this Battlestar Galatica-inspired game by Josh Fox. It’s far future space opera with humanity on the edge of extinction – all inter-personal politics and feelings in the face of almost certain doom. I love this game already. It meshes perfectly with my directorial GM style and helps me serve up some fantastic moments. It feels like every session, I am throwing some impossible decision or loyalty-threatening revelation at my players who pick up the ball and run with the ball unflinchingly. It definitely helps to think about it as prestige TV and frame scenes using that language – lots of walking and talking in corridors, that sort of thing. The characters aren’t on the same side, there aren’t missions – just agendas and obstacles. Will write about some of the cool design stuff going on when the campaign is done.

One Shots

Okay, got to rush through these!

This Ship Is No Mother (as GM): I ran 4 great games of my little lets-make-Mothership-a-storygame game. These were mostly at online cons or things like that. I love playing this game.

Wizards Grimoire and Mobile Frame Zero: Firebrands: Getting to play two games from the Bakers was a real treat. Wizard’s Grimoire is the start of a series of games that flip the GM-player relationship in great ways. You should check it out. Firebrands is a game of daring mech pilots told in dramatic vignettes where the less you force a narrative, the better!

Steal away Jordan and Tales of a Fisherman’s Wife: These are two games from designer, Julia Ellingboe. I think Steal Away Jordan is my favourite of the two. Even as you wrestle with the discomfort (if you’re not Black) of playing Black slaves in the American south, it’s still a game about being heroes with a lot of delight and joy at the heart of it! Fisherman’s Wife is a game of Japanese ghost stories with tentacle porn on the cover. I’m not sure what else to say!

Navathem’s End (as GM): This game by Pam Punzalan and Sin Posadas fits well with Wildsea on this list because it feels like an alternate take on the genre that is D&D 5e. It’s that light-hearted brand of heroic fantasy but with a different ethos – less colonial, more grounded in community.

Yazeba’s Bed and Breakfast: A book which is probably as fun to read as play. You probably have heard about it enough but if not, go listen to the Yes Indie’d episode about it.

After the Mind, the World Again: This is a Disco Elysium inspired game where there’s one player and four GMs who play facets of a detective’s mind. It’s not really a one shot game – definitely takes 4 hours or more but we rushed the ending and got somewhere. Also, free!

City of Mist (as player): I always joke about wanting to read this game but bailing as soon I as open the PDF to see that it has more than 500 pages. The new version has cut half of the system out so maybe I had a point.

The Hunted (as player): This is a slick one-shot game – Forged in the Dark folk horror in the vein of Blair Witch Project and the like. Easy to play and run, would do again.

Swords without Master (as GM): This game should’ve inspired a whole design lineage. The text is a bit tricky to parse but if you get a chance to play this, you should take it!

Damn the Man, Save the Music: If you like Empire Records and don’t mind doing some improv, this game is great.

Cloud Empress (as player): The giant psychic cicadas are a great linchpin for a setting. If you play the game, head straight for them.

There was a bit more here and there. I already wrote about playing older games like Metamorphosis Alpha, Bunnies & Burrows and Dallas RPG on here. There was also a lot of playtesting including a very fun session of Protect the Child by Mint about a found family of monsters looking after a child a la Monsters Inc. Overall, another very satisfying half-year.

[blessedarethebinarybreakers]

Wanted to go anon but I asked in DMs if I could vent so hopefully this’ll make me feel better:

A lot of times I feel Christianity is causing me more harm than good. I grew up in the Baptist south and I see Christians so happy with God and their blessings. And while I acknowledge my blessings and thank God for them I don’t think I feel the same kind of joy everyone else does. I went to a revival at my aunt’s church last October and came out of it with horrible anxiety that lasted for months. Even as people talked about God’s love and mercy and second chances I left without feeling that love, I was scared and it felt like I wasn’t a good Christian and that when I was saved years ago no longer counted. Any time I see someone talk about spreading the Gospel I feel low and awful cause no one has come to me and told me they’re Christian now and why should God let me into Heaven if I can’t do that?

I recently discover scrupulosity and I’m 90% that’s what I have. It was a relief to know (even if I can’t always believe it) it’s ocd making me feel this way and not God. But how I can I find comfort in the faith when that is where my anxiety stems from?

Hey there. My heart aches for you and the harm Christianity has brought you. When faith is done right, it should be a place of support, a place you feel encouraged towards growth and vulnerability. Instead, it sounds like you've been taught fear — that you're not "good enough" for God or heaven; that not feeling what everyone else seems to be feeling is a failing on your part.

You deserve so much better, and it's not your fault that this is the Christianity you've been put through.

I want to start by saying that what you're feeling, or what you don't feel, does not make you a "bad Christian"; it's not a sign of God's disfavor; and it absolutely does not bar you from heaven!

It's such an alienating feeling to be surrounded by people who seem to be experiencing something you just can't seem to access. It reminds me of Psalm 42, where the psalmist wrestles with their depression and anxiety:

But I remember these things as I bare my soul:     how I made my way to the mighty one’s abode,     to God’s own house,         with joyous shouts and thanksgiving songs—         a huge crowd celebrating the festival! Why, I ask myself, are you so depressed?     Why are you so upset inside? Hope in God!     Because I will again give him thanks,         my saving presence and my God. (Psalm 42:4-5)

In the above verses, the psalmist visits God's Temple, is surrounded by people shouting joyfully...and all they seem to feel is that soul-deep depression. They also wonder, "What's wrong with me??" The hope they find even in this fretting about their inability to feel the joy everyone else is, is the hope that there will be a future time when they will once again feel the gratitude and joy they can't access right now.

What will it take, what does this psalmist need, in order to work through their depression and into joy? ...What do you need?

One thing I highly recommend, if at all possible, is finding a therapist who can help you through your religious hurt and help you navigate scrupulosity.

Look for therapists who specialize in religious trauma, or scrupulosity, or "deconstructing" faith, or working with "ex-vangelicals."

In your consult with them, make sure they are, like, not part of a conservative Christian church themselves and actually aim to keep patients in such spaces; make sure they are there to help you find spiritual wellbeing, wherever that journey takes you. Asking about their view on LGBTQ+ persons might be one way to determine their overall aims.

I'm by no means a mental health professional; I'm not an expert in scrupulosity and I don't know best practice for working through religious trauma when scrupulosity is part of your experience. So please take everything that comes next in this post with a huge grain of salt, that I'm offering what I've seen work for some people, but that doesn't mean it's the right thing for you. Getting that professional support is much more ideal.

Along with professional support, I do feel that a break from Christianity, or at least the Christian spaces you are currently part of, may give you the space to work through everything.

However, if not going to church will impact your scrupulosity or activate fears about hell, prepare some options in advance for dealing with that — whether it's having someone you trust you can talk to, or setting up your own Sunday worship, a space and time where you pray, read scripture, etc. at home.

If you feel that even those preparations won't be enough to keep safe from those fears, you might wait till you get a therapist who can help you navigate whatever comes up when you leave church.

You could also start looking around for different kinds of churches than you've currently experienced, churches that make space for depression and fear, and that emphasize that God's love is freely given, not earned. This is my post with tips for finding an affirming church near you. But I want to emphasize that it's okay if you aren't ready to start looking for a new church, or if you're unsure you ever want to do that.

Finding people who are going through similar things could be very helpful — people who get it, who can share their stories with you as you share yours with them.

A progressive church might be a place you can find that support.

It's also possible that LGBTQ orgs in your area might offer resources for those with religious trauma.

There are also online options, such as Journey Free, which offers both free and paid support — including online support groups.

Recovering from Religion is another site with support group options, online and in person (note: I'm not that familiar with this org, so if anyone has experience with them please share).

If you're a reader, two books I think might bring you some healing and reframe your relationship with faith are:

Learning to Walk in the Dark by Barbara Brown Taylor, which explores a Christian faith that has room for depression, grief, fear, pain, rather than pressuring everyone to Be Happy All The Time to "prove" they're blessed. (I have a tag with a few excerpts from this book)

Bad Theology Kills by Kevin Garcia, which unpacks a lot of the harmful stuff Christians in evangelical / fundamentalist type churches internalize.

You might also find some useful stuff on my FAQ, particularly the "emotions and sins: guilt and fear, anger and hate" section and the "on God" and "prayer and faith" sections.

I'm not sure how helpful all this was, but I want you to know that you are worthy of spiritual thriving, of finding places that bring you peace and joy rather than fear and isolation. I'll be praying for you as you unpack what you've been through and where you need to go to find that thriving. The journey will probably be long and bumpy, but you do not have to go it alone. <3

[skzpixie]

Happy Wedding, my love// happy ending saga

Part 1 - Part 3

CW: none! Just a whole lotta fluff and the two being unserious in their wedding

Taglist: @mynameisnotlaura, @palindrome969

December 21st, 2024 

It wasn’t every day two idols got married, especially ones that were considered to be the nation’s power couple. But today was that day. The day when many people tuned into the news and livestreams to see the two get married.  

Kai paced a hole through the floor of the bridal suit, her brother looking at her confused. He never knew the type of stress brides got on their wedding day. Her bridesmaids had gone to get pictures with the groomsmen, so it was just her, Bo, and Yuqi, Yuqi being her maid of honor. 

The wedding was taking place in a large greenhouse, keeping the people warm from the chill that was winter in South Korea. The large building held several of their closest friends and biggest celebrities. Yuqi and the rest of (G)-Idle were her bridesmaids, while Lisa and Wonyoung were the last two. The boys were Changbin’s groomsmen while Chan was the best man. Ateez, the rest of Blackpink, and almost half of the industry was on the guest list. The rest of the guest list was family on Changbin’s side, making the wedding have roughly seven hundred people attending. Even JYP and his family were attending, that was how big the wedding was being promoted. 

Along with the upscale wedding, came her dress. It was a slight mermaid style, the skirts flaring out after her mid-thigh. The dress from the thigh up weighed 5-10 lbs. itself. It was adorned in jewels and beads, making it hard for her to breath, the corset back not helping her case. Her hair was styled into an elegant updo, the front two strands of her hair freely flowing and curled to frame her face. Her makeup was simple, a nude look with peach lips to enhance her natural beauty. On top of that, her neck and ears were adorned with sapphires and diamonds, making her look like one of those dolls. The necklace, thankfully, wasn’t too gaudy, putting just the right amount of interesting texture to her look. 

Yuqi got a buzz from her phone, and she cursed. “Kai, baby, it’s go-time.” Kai internally groaned. She wasn’t ready yet, she doesn’t think she’ll ever be ready. She took a deep breath, linked her arm with Bo’s, and made her way to enter. Yuqi had quickly gone to walk down with Chan on her arm, giving her a look of encouragement. It reminded her of that day in February, not too long after their engagement. 

“Who's the best man?” Hyunjin asked Changbin, days after the announcement over Instagram and Dispatch. 

“I don’t know.” Changbin commented, braiding Kai’s hair, who was fast asleep with a glass of soju. 

“It’s going to be me, obviously.” Han snorted, making heads snap towards him. 

“Ain’t no way, it’ll be me.” Feliz said, and it became a huge argument between the seven members. Changbin watched them, amused, already having an idea who it’ll be. 

Kai stirred, making the men freeze. “What’s going on?” She yawned, making Changbin glare at the men who woke her up. 

“Just because of that, Chan will be my best man.” Changbin told the seven, picking the one that was least responsible for waking Kai up. 

Chan fist bumped, which led to the members wrestling and dog piling over Chan. 

Kai snorted at the memory, her nerves melting away as the music filled her ears. It was the instrumental version of Butterflies, making her crack up slightly. She met Changbin’s eyes, and they couldn’t stop the giggles that left their mouths at the sight of each other. 

After a quick couple seconds, she stood under the altar, hugging Bo after he went to sit down. The officiant, BoA, started the ceremony. The two had to hold in their laughs whenever they looked at each other, feeling shy whenever they made eye contact. 

“Now, repeat after me.” BoA instructed Changbin, who nodded diligently. She started telling the vows, pausing every now and then to let Changbin repeat after her. After his set, she turned to Kai, doing the same thing she did to Changbin to her. The two held bated breaths, until it was said they could kiss. 

The two went in for a kiss but instead of kissing, they bonked their heads together. This caused the two to burst out laughing. She cradled his head while the two laughed, trying to rub away the red mark while their wedding party couldn’t help but laugh as well.  

After a few seconds of the wedding party being anything but serious, Kai eventually landed a kiss to his lips, getting cheers from the crowd. She pulled away and continued laughing, making her wheeze from how tight the dress was. 

The two walked back down the aisle while their wedding party was following, bouncing and jumping up and down, like it wasn’t supposed to be serious, to hype the couple up. Security quickly crowded the guests into limos to transfer them over to the reception. Kai continued to rub the red mark on his forehead, before kissing it to make it feel better. Changbin chuckled, before kissing her deeply, making her squeak. 

She sighed happily, wrapping her arms around his neck before the limo lurched, the two falling to the floor with a laugh. Changbin quickly helped her up, pulling her into his lap. 

“My husband, ever the gentleman.” She snorted, Changbin kissing her cheek and making her giggle. 

“Call me that again,” he said. She smirked, before doing so. After each time she called him her husband, he would reward her with a kiss in a different place on her face.  

The two soon settled into a comfortable silence, ready to spend the rest of their lives together like this. 

BONUS!!: The pics that inspired Kai's dress (Can you tell these two have plagued my mind??)

[heeleryuta]

April 17, 2019, 2:24 AM

I can't sleep. I'm wrestling Chuck Taylor today. Even though I'd consider him a great friend now, I never told him this story. When I was a sophomore in high school, a junior asked me to prom: even though I said yes, I was terrified. On the day of the prom, I remember sitting in my parents bathroom in my father's tux, freaking out. So I went to what I knew would calm 15 year old Wheeler down and I watched Chuck Taylor matches until I could take a deep breath. I went on to dance the night away. Yes, I'm a nerd 😂.

Fast forward to last year, and I was essentially homeless. Even though I suppose I could have moved home to South Carolina with my parents, all my work as an independent wrestler was here. I didn't know where to go, so I called ol' Chuckie T and asked if I could crash on his couch for a weekend. That turned into a whole month, in which Dustin and Orange Cassidy took care of me and made sure I had everything I needed while I found a new place to live.

Wrestling Dustin means the world to me. There's really only 2 other people on this planet (Colt Cabana, ZSJ) that I've ever wanted to wrestle as much as I have Dustin. This match has also been canceled multiple times in other promotions, so part of me doesn't even believe it's happening.

I don't mean for this to be overdramatic, but I do want you to know how much I care about this match. I want you to know how much it means to me that we'll even share the same ring. I firmly believe that Chuck Taylor is one of the most influential and underrated independent wrestlers of the last 10 years. We're kicking off the show tomorrow, and I think that's a mistake. Because if there's any time to have a career defining performance, it's now. If there's any time to prove yourself to the world, it's now. And most of all, if there's any time to prove you can hang with your heroes, it's now. See you tonight, Dustin

[court-jobi]

Expert in Distraction

Pairing: Din Djarin x reader

Word Count: 1,883

Rating: M, 18+ (please scroll on by, kiddos)

Warnings: 🔥stress relief, est. relationship, spicy stimulation, fem pronouns, excessive use of the nickname 'angel', #thehelmetstayson

Summary: He’s been workin’ on this new hot-rod of his for a while now. He works hard enough with errands of his own, and deserves a break more than anything– especially after all he’s been through lately. So you try to spell your Mandalorian– only to have him bail you out when things go south on an errand in the Tattooine market scene. Frustrated and down on yourself, you try to keep your angst out of his sight… only for your Mando partner-in-crime to sense his girl needs him and opts to helps alleviate your stress. 

“D’you wanna talk, or a distraction?”

You meant it as a clarifying question, but it came out soft: a plea for the solution to the problem.

“Distraction…?”

Oh, yes. Yes to the touch, yes to that angle, yes to the distraction, yes to your Din Djarin. 

A/N: Inspired by my favorite bounty hunter (and how the phrase "rough day" will forever be cemented in my mind by @no-droids beloved work), here's how I imagine the sharp-eyed -but ridiculously in love- Mandalorian would help you unwind after a day where nothing's gone right. Cleaning carbon scoring can wait; after you've answered his question for how best to help you...

Read on AO3

Ashla knows you'd had a rough day.

You'd been running clear across compounds in search of what you thought were easy to find supplies while your Mandalorian was making repairs in the comfort of a private shipyard. He needed a break from finding his own parts this week, but would never say so. Routine stuff wasn’t anything you couldn’t handle picking up and enjoyed the time alone to feel accomplished, so you set out for the chore yourself. 

What you didn't expect was the shootout in the hangar. Damn hothead spacers...

That sure put a wrench into things. You got interrupted on the job and caught in a really tight spot without much cover or a good exit path. Not that you could handle without being covered in beskar. So, you sent out your reluctant call about the outburst to the other end of your comm, where Mando obviously came to get you, broke it up, and brought you back right as night fell. 

But the adventure of the day left you feeling pent up and irritated at how it'd gone.

You steamed at the sink, having rinsed the parts you’d salvaged but staring the pile down before mustering the will to dry them off. Sighing as you did so, you sensed his presence behind you. His shadow on the wall gave you pause so you just carried on, thinking he'd move along. 

Only he didn't. Inside that she'll keeping his face from you, he wrestled with how to help you. A hand came to your waist, a low voice breaking through the incoming tension headache brewing behind your eyes;

"Hey you."

He was in soft mode. Shit. You could hear it in his voice, and your heart sank. 

You seriously loved when he'd get sweet like this. But after today? You knew you were in a horrible mood and felt guilty for not falling into him as easily as you wanted.

"Hey," you tried to manage back pleasantly, but you were tired. "I'm almost done here, then we can relax if you want," and so you picked up your pace.

The Mando leaned over you easily and led your hand off the counter. "Don't worry about those."

Your temper flared and turned around to face him, 

“Look I'm fine, just let me do this, ok? I can do this one thing!" 

Deadly quiet calmness shut your throat again as he looked down at you. One sided tip of the helm, a cue for you to check yourself. 

You hopelessly just wanted something to go right out of this day... and you regretted the tone as soon as you said it.

So, you took a deep breath and stared off to the side. Giving up the bite, you chucked the towel somewhere behind you, gripping onto his belts' hooks in midreach– to communicate his touch was welcome at the very least. You'd still take the hug, even if you weren't happy. Ungloved and warmer than the usual gloves covering him up, his grounding hand returned-- this time coming to your cheek.

"D'you want to talk, or a distraction?"

Ugh, you’d had enough talking about the things going wrong recently. Now, distraction? That could be anything from fixing you a snack, to shooting mynocks off the hilltop. Depends if he’s angry enough.

You meant it more as a clarifying question, but it came out soft- for the solution to the problem.

"Distraction…?"

With another tilt, the Mandalorian closed the rest of the space between you and trailed that hand up to rake your hair away. He caught the pair of pins where you'd tied your front pieces back in a hurry and worked them out, tossing them in the sink behind you. With another careful shake and swipe all the way down, now he was able to work the braid out. You let your eyes fall shut at the sensation, releasing your finger's grip into a gentler hold on his sides. A slight hum came from you without realizing and you worked to let your brow fall from its tensed peak.

"There’s my girl," he whispered. "I've missed you."

He meant the smile that had been missing; it was back the instant he touched you. You flickered up at him a little pitiful, and he hummed at you– the sign that he was watching.

"Sweet girl..." The mutter under his breath at the sight of you. "...why don't I just help you unwind a bit. You’ll feel better. "

"How's that?" You asked softer, your voice weak and a bit higher.

He leaned in a bit closer to your ear, nuzzling against your temple as his gently as beskar would allow. Cradling the back of your head to him as his hand planed across your stomach,

"I can help relax you. You won't have to move or lay a finger on anything else tonight. Just let me take care of you. Touch you, in all the ways I know you love."

His hand slid down lower as the moment blended into something else, and you suddenly inhaled quick at the fluttering you now felt in your thighs. 

A delicious distraction.

Your Mandalorian coaxed you, his hand massaging at your hip. "How does that sound?"

You nodded and hummed high in your throat, moaning a little when he massaged that hand into your hair to scratch your scalp.

He'd do anything to keep you safe and happy. He'd accomplished the first, now to solve the second....

You hummed when he massaged through your hair, and reacted: pulled him close enough where you could reach up to his shoulders. He pressed in like a perfect fit and traced the edge of your pants, right at the tender skin of your stomach.

"S'that feel good, angel?"

He nuzzled you again to gauge your permission. You nodded again and fell into the sway he started, your hips unconsciously pressing into his. Anything to be closer. Your head dropped towards his neck while your arms found their home atop his shoulders. He swelled with pride at how easy you would stay under him.

WIthout an ounce of hesitation left, the Mandalorian took the submission to let his hand slip under your waistband. You hummed bright at the intrusion and whimpered when he'd ghosted over that tender part at your core before he let his hand cup you fully. Hiding in that warm spot of fabric before the hard beskar chestplate, you sighed into his touch below… The sink of your entire body wasn’t far from your Mando’s sight, as he cradled you back to lean against the counter the whole way down.

"That's my angel... I've got you. There we go~." 

Softness galore and buttery warmth coated his voice while he coaxed you just enough to have you sink back against the countertop and your legs widened a bit more for his hand to move. "Is this ok?"

"Yes please," you whispered- laced with far more begging than you anticipated.

Yes to the touch, yes to the angle, yes to the distraction, yes to him. 

His chuckle echoed in the helm. "So polite.. you have good manners, cyar'ika." 

Fingers began to work gently against your opening (all to elicit a moan from you), finding their home and making space as he pleased,

 "--But I want you to forget the honorifics tonight. You just let go and say whatever you need to. Loud as you want."

The sigh that left you at his words was so needed and gripping him tighter sent the message: 

"Fuuuuck that feels good."

You felt your hips rock against him on their own. As your guide the rest of the way in, he captured you to his chest.

This here, this guy was a man of words you got when the two of you were alone. How grateful you were for the brief respite being on this dustball of a planet gave you. Away from the other hunters, from the garage techs, even out of Peli’s guest rooms– here in the little corner of your private, rented garage, he'd litter all sorts of sweet words on you while handling you against that counter… your stomach jumping at each one as they flowed through you.

You sound… so kriffing gorgeous, just like this.

That's it, c'mon.

That's my pretty girl.

You work so hard for me. This is all for you, now.

Let go for me.

Any aggravation of the day be damned. Nothing mattered except for the bow to burst; and your Mando was making great time, the expert of distraction he is. That's his secret weapon-- turning around a bad day the moment you give the word.

The live wire in you was beginning to burn, sparking trembles in the body that made your legs shake. A foot popped off the ground and atop the strong thigh that parted you. 

Normally you were laying down for this part, and nerves for the sudden onslaught of it rose with a vengeance, getting better of you. 

Beside his helmet, you caught the reflection of your brows tense for new reason. Facing your light and relieving pants, the black of the visor stayed fixed on your face. 

"I-I,I cant- Din,” you begged, “I can't–"

"Yes you can, mesh’la." He whispered as if he were the call of Sleep himself. As if it were a dream.

The quiver ebbing inside brought you to hide in his neck.

The voice seeping from the edge of the helmet, 

"You're so close, let go.”

The core of you revved to the edge. Your only hope was that voice– 

–and its final, sweet order:

“Cum for me, angel."

For gasps of breath after you stopped shaking, you held onto him for dear life. Thankfully, he made doing so more comfortable by slipping off his chestplate between you.

It's no secret now, your loving him. In your light, ditzy whisper to tell him so, he merely hummed a little chuckle back, gave you a gentle keldabe kiss, and swayed again. Just content to hold you- and murmur it back in turn.

The gesture of what you did today didn't go unnoticed; Din knew exactly what you'd been trying to do. Taking on the grocery run would have spelled him after a string of long days this week. How could he blame you for a a frustrating turn of events like a shootout? He'd be pissy, too.

Not only would he come every time to help, but he'd spell them from you if he could. He honestly preferred having you by his side on errands, anyway. But the offer meant the world to him.

"Mmm'love you..." the little whimper came from the lovely bundle in his arms. The stress appeared to have melted away entirely.

"Someone has tired eyes," he replied back, equally sated at the sight of his darling, "Now, no lifting any fingers, hear me? I mean it. I'll take care of these in the morning."

No fight from you there. He drove it straight out of you, to his own happy calm.

Of course, when Din led you both out from the workspace and toward the residential district, locking the garage behind them, he made sure to keep you under his arm and gave his warm word of love right back.

[stirringwinds]

When do u think the modern personification of Korea was born? Cause there is the kingdom of Goguryeo which place Korea at like 4000(but like would it be like a china situation where it’s the same personification who’s just stupidly old or like Greece and Egypt where they had an ancient version) there’s also the three kingdoms period which started about 2000 years ago. Or there’s even the more modern eras like Joseon. I’m just curious how old u see the current personification as.

*Gojoseon I accidentally typed the wrong G kingdom. Goguryeo was later on. Sorry for any confusion

thanks for the question! this is my personal take on it: yong-soo is at least 2000 years old; he thus dates back to the three kingdoms period rather than to gojoseon. i do think there's always some wiggle room with the age of a personification and how we interpret history so i can see other variations; my main hard no is making him too young (such as born after the 1950 korean war...please no).

contemporarily, yong-soo represents south korea, but in the beginning, i see him as the old korean kingdom of silla. nations don't suddenly spring into existence overnight, so while silla was was officially founded in 57 BCE, he's probably older than that. that's just the latest date i see him being around by. yong soo, imo, also has/had at least two brothers: goguryeo (who later represents north korea after wwii) and baekje, who was kiku's close ally—as per how, in real history, the kingdom of baekje and yamato japan had quite an important alliance. baekje dies by a combination of yong-soo and yao's actions after the baekje-tang war—as per how baekje got annexed into the kingdom of silla, and china crushed the japanese forces attempting to support baekje restorationists at the battle of baekgang. i don't think yong-soo necessarily wanted his brother to die, but it was a power struggle, and those have consequences (as tang dynasty yao would probably say coolly, while seated atop his war horse...😔)—nations mirror humans, and how often have royal houses across different cultures warred against family members throughout human history? so, it's kind of sombre but there were once three brothers.

overall, i see yong-soo as an old nation who's lived many lives before his present incarnation as the republic of korea (and in the east asian cosmology; reincarnation is quite a familiar concept for us). i see him being older than kiku, and he's the one who taught kiku advanced shipbuilding and navigation, as a reflection of how mariners/shipbuilders from silla influenced japan. this is naturally very ironic from the meiji era onwards, particularly when korea comes under japanese colonial rule, and kiku refashions himself as a 'modern' naval power. so, rather than the canon dynamic that seems to posit a rather youthful yong-soo vs. old man china and japan...imo it's really Old Men Wrestling with the Confucian Hierarchy All the Way Down (even if Yong-soo's skincare regimen means he looks good and he is skilled at putting on a friendly and youngish persona if need be). one implication that's important to me about yong-soo's age is exploring how he and kiku (and also yao) have a very old relationship that runs deep due to all that history and cultural exchange, but it is naturally, far from easy.