#and i just head canon that knows common sign language too

[sca3a]

Signs of affection

Gale absent-mindedly turned a page, although he hadn't read much in the last few minutes. Or at all, really. Instead his attention had been more and more focused on Trystan, and his mind had gone down quite the rabbit hole.

The half elf was sitting cross-legged outside his tent, intently focused on the spell book he was reading. Every now and then he waved his free hand, as if trying to imitate the gestures described - but whatever spell he was trying to learn, sizzled out quicker than a raindrop in a drought.

“Must be quite the page turner,” Astarion quipped as he sat down next to him.

“Hm?” Gale hummed as he tore his attention from Trystan and turned towards the vampire.

“You’ve turned fifty pages in the last five minutes,” the spawn mused, “but you haven't looked at the book once. I suspect there's something else stealing your attention. Or rather, someone else.”

Gale felt the blush spread and he closed the book with a huff. “I’m just making sure his spells don't backfire. We do not need anyone turned into a sheep.”

Astarion chuckled. It had been a running joke at camp that they risked being polymorphed since Trystan accidentally transformed himself during a fight. The dangers of wild magic.

“It's easier to teach him if you actually talk to him.”

“Please, leave,” Gale grumbled as he ran his free hand down his face. But, Astarion was right. On both counts. Trystan had stolen his attention ever since pulling him out of that stone, and maybe it couldn't hurt if he actually helped him with his spells.

Putting down the book, Gale rose. Taking a deep breath, he slowly made his way towards the sorcerer. He was very mindful of where he was stepping, always making sure to be in Trystan's line of sight.

When close enough, he produced a couple of dancing lights in his palm - drawing the attention of the occupied man.

“Gale…” his voice was soft, low and had that distinct note to it that was so very much Trystan. “Can I do something for you?”

The wizard dispelled the lights and sat down in front of the other man. “I thought,” Gale said slowly, making sure that Trystan managed to read his lips, “that maybe I could help you?”

He then gestured towards the book with a soft smile.

“Oh…” Trystan looked away as a blush crept upon his cheeks and Gale thought it was the cutest thing he'd seen. The half elf then swallowed heavily and handed him the book, biting his lower lip nervously.

Gale glanced at the book and realized it was about the message spell. He looked up again, not entirely certain why he'd want to learn such a spell - but he had his suspicions.

He opened his mouth to reply but noticed that there was a frustrated wrinkle between Trystan's brows. He was annoyed that he couldn't do it himself.

“I don't know if I pronounce it correctly.”

A soft smile spread across Gale's lips and he put away the book. Relaxing he began to slowly and meticulously speak to Trystan in sign language - something he had learnt, but questioned if he'd ever need.

A surprised chuckle escaped the sorcerer, but the relieved smile that then spread across his lips made Gale's stomach flutter.

‘You're full of surprises,’ Trystan mused.

‘I have a lot of qualities,’ Gale replied with a wink, ‘if you'd like to explore them’.

[flowerandblood]

The Fall from the Heavens (31)

[ canon • Aemond x Strong • niece female ]

[ warnings: sex content, sexual tension, smut, angst, swearing ]

[ description: A cool distance turns into friendship and more when two children see that they can find refuge and understanding in each other. However, naïve dreams collide with the reality in which every event has consequences and what once could have been love becomes a dark, newly painful obsession. Angst, sexual tension, obsession, violence, madness, very dark Aemond. ]

The story in this series is an alternate reality from the oneshot Stay and love, leave and die, in which Aemond reads the letters his niece has sent to him over the years. They are the same characters and it shows what would have happened between them − I have changed the background story from their childhood slightly for the sake of the plot.

Characters & Series Moodboard Lady Strong Moodboard Aemond & Lady Strong Moodboard Aemond & Lady Strong Childhood

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

She couldn't believe it, but the measter left her with no illusions − after weeks filled with fear and prayers, a miracle had happened and she was expecting a child.

She knew it was a blessing from the heavens, that some women waited months or even years for their offspring.

She thought with joy that it was a sign that the gods were supporting them and their cause.

That they also did not desire war.

It seemed to her that, despite everything that had happened, her mother was also reassured and pleased by this information − by the thought that perhaps she would give birth to a son who could be declared heir to the throne and bring a solution that would at least partially satisfy all sides.

The only person who was not pleased by this news was Jace. He was the only one not to congratulate her, and at the common table he pretended not to see her, speaking only to his betrothed.

She realised that their mother, while protecting him all her life, had at the same time weakened him, allowing him to remain immature deep inside while maintaining a semblance of masculinity.

She decided, however, that it no longer mattered.

She eagerly awaited her husband's return, wanting to convey this wonderful news to him in person − she wished to see his reaction and enjoy the moment with him. She gushed with delight when one morning her servant announced that a message had arrived from Harrenhal, hoping that she would read in it when she would see him again.

Her anger at him was now completely passed, replaced by longing and desire to be reunited.

She unrolled the parchment, chewing on the piece of bread she had just had in her mouth, and began to read.

I reached Harrenhal however, unfortunately, I found the fortress empty. Lord Strong escaped with several spies − we are still searching for them. In accordance with your will, I have spared Alys Rivers' life and locked her in her chamber. I cannot predict when I will be able to return to Dragonstone. I ask your forgiveness for not fulfilling my duty as your husband and not being by your side. Aemond

She swallowed hard, feeling a twinge of discomfort and grief in her guts at the thought that the matter was not yet closed and there was no way of knowing when it would be.

The thought of further separation devastated her.

This made her come up with an idea that her mother did not approve of.

"No. You are carrying your child inside you, I will not let you fly to Harrenhal. It's too dangerous." She communicated to her clearly, shaking her head.

She pressed her lips together at her words, feeling her heart pounding fast.

"The journey to Harrenhal is not long. Who would attack me in the sky? My husband has informed me that the fortress is empty. I will be safe there. He is there to prove his loyalty to me and you."

Daemon chuckled at her words, shifting from foot to foot, amused.

"He's fixing something he destroyed himself. If he had said what he knows instead of playing with us, I would have taken care of the matter myself, and Larys Strong's head would have greeted visitors to Harrenhal on a spike." He said coldly, staring at her expectantly. She looked at him in disbelief, wondering if this was what they were discussing then, on the seashore.

Daemon knew of what was about to happen to them and Aemond had thwarted his plans.

She swallowed hard at the thought.

"I…−"

"− I'll fly with you −" She heard Baela's voice and raised her gaze to her, surprised. Jace moved beside her uneasily.

"− what are you doing? −"

"− I've never seen Harrenhal − I'll make sure my cousin got there safely, rest a day or two in the fortress and return to Dragonstone −" Baela said without heeding her betrothed's impatient, furtive gaze.

Rhaenyra pressed her lips together, turning her head away, clearly frustrated that her daughter wanted to leave her family home, which she felt was the safest place possible for her.

"− if you lose this child −"

"− I won't lose it − I'll look out for myself − it'll be easier for me to calm down when I'm by his side knowing what's happening −" She explained, looking at her with a certainty from which her mother sighed heavily.

She and Baela set off before dawn the next day. Her mother hugged her tightly, tears in her eyes at the thought that her child was leaving her again.

"− watch out for yourself − you are my only daughter −" She muttered with regret and pulled away, placing a lingering, warm, tender motherly kiss on her forehead.

She glanced at Daemon, who stood in the distance − he was looking at her with his chin raised high, as proud and filled with mockery as always. He nodded as if he accepted her choice, the fact that she had done what he demanded.

She had made a manly decision with all its consequences.

She was her husband's wife.

Flying in the skies alongside Baela and Moondancer, she wondered why she had never done this before; her cousin's dragoness was as beautiful and agile as Larax, her scales shining wonderfully in the light of the rising sun.

She was grateful to Baela for offering to fly with her − her company calmed her and gave her strength, a sense that she wasn't treating her like a traitor, that she was trying to understand her and help her as much as she could.

She thought with pain that if she had opened her heart to her earlier, they would have been close friends for years.

She hoped in her mind that they would make up for lost time when at last the succession issue would be finally resolved.

When peace would reign.

The journey to Harrenhal on the dragon's back proved to be quick and pleasant − they landed just outside the fortress when the sun was already lazily rising in the sky.

She couldn't stop the wide smile that appeared on her face, the rapid pounding of her heart or the trembling of her hands as she slid from her saddle and saw her husband step out of the stronghold gates to meet them, looking at her from afar.

She felt what she had experienced when she saw him for the first time after eight years then, in the courtyard of the Red Keep, when he was duelling with Criston Cole.

She wanted to run to him, throw herself into his arms and whisper how much she missed him.

This time he didn't turn away, and she didn't hold back.

She laughed as she felt her legs begin to carry her forward on their own, her body filled with warm affection and emotion at the sight of his pain-filled disbelief.

As she fell into his arms, as she smelled his familiar scent again, she felt his hands catch her under her hips and lift her high. She threw her arms around his neck, her legs entwined around his waist as their lips came out to meet each other, locking in a sticky, messy, hot kiss from which they both sighed quietly.

She squirmed when she felt his tongue slide deep into her mouth, rubbing her palate, her walls clenched greedily as his throbbing manhood slapped against her lower abdomen, betraying how great his longing actually was.

She pulled away from him, breathing loudly as he did, wanting to look at him and noticed his hazy, dark gaze filled with desire, his lips, puffy from their caresses parted.

She sighed when his broad hand stroked her head and pressed her forehead against his, only to have their lips join again a moment later in a soft, warm kiss with a loud click of their saliva.

Only after a moment did she remember that she had not come alone.

She grunted quietly, pulling away from him − her husband glanced sideways and furrowed his brow, setting her back down on the ground, clearly unhappy with what he saw before him.

Their cousin stood a few steps behind her, smiling at her uncle with feigned affection and mockery, from which his lips pressed together in a thin line.

"Baela accompanied me on the journey for my safety. Mother did not want me to fly to Harrenhal alone." She said quickly, wanting to calm the situation and what was surely just going on inside his head.

She saw him glance at her quickly at her words, as if surprised. He hummed under his breath and nodded − his expression softened, as if he recognised that this was indeed the right decision.

"I am grateful to you for your sacrifice, cousin. I will order a chamber to be prepared for you." He announced coolly and matter-of-factly − their cousin nodded, still smiling.

She knew she was trying to bring him out of balance, but there was nothing she could do with it.

As one of the servants took Baela to her quarters, her husband looked at her and licked his lower lip with his tongue, as if he was thinking deeply about something.

"− I must speak to you in private −"

"− I need to speak to you too −" She said cheerfully.

She was so eager to share this joyful news with him.

She closed the door behind her as soon as they crossed the threshold of his chamber, ready to tell him, but he grabbed her violently by the shoulder and turned her towards him, slamming her back against the wall.

She squealed when his lips pressed against hers as if he wanted to devour her, his tongue invading deep into her throat with his loud sigh on the edge of pain and relief.

"− w-wait − uncle − I must −" She mumbled as his hand clamped down impatiently on her breasts and his hips began to rub against her stomach − his manhood was all hard and swollen beneath his breeches, and the very thought made her feel the wonderful, familiar wetness between her thighs.

"− were you touching yourself? −" He breathed out into her mouth, as if he was in amok and hadn't heard her words, his hands trailing from her hair, down her neck, to her breasts and buttocks, as if he couldn't decide what he wanted to feel more, what he longed for so much.

"− I − y-yes − gods, Aemond −" She gasped in pleasure as one of his hands slid deep between her thighs − his fingers dug into her womanhood hidden beneath the fabric of her breeches, teasing and squeezing it, making her nipples harden all over with desire.

Only a sigh escaped her lips as he turned her with her face against the wall, his moist tongue running over her thrill-warmed neck, his twitching cock pressed against the place between her buttocks.

"− me too − every day −" He hummed into her ear, untying her breeches with his long, nimble fingers − she involuntarily pressed her cheek against the wall understanding and desiring whatever was about to happen, her fleshy insides clenching desperately around nothing.

"− morning and evening − thinking of this tight little cunt −" He gasped with delight, running his fingertips over her soft, plushy folds as he spoke the words, satisfied apparently that she was completely ready for him.

"− as always sticky and warm for her husband − hm? −" He hummed, sliding her breeches down with a single, sure flick of his hand.

She swallowed hard, feeling her thighs and what was between them being enveloped by the cool air of the room, her heart thumping like mad as she heard him try to deal with the material of his garment behind her back, his hot breath teasing her neck again and again.

"− yes − ah −" She mumbled when she felt him grab her with his arm around her waist and pull her hips closer, forcing her to buck her buttocks and bend over.

Pathetic, helpless moan broke from her throat when she felt how swollen the head of his cock was, with what difficulty he tried to force it between her slick, hot, puffy walls.

"− fuck − fuck −" He exhaled, with impatient thrusts of his hips invading deeper and deeper into her warm core, spreading her open on his fat erection.

She gasped, clenching her eyes shut, trying to keep her balance by leaning against the wall in front of her and fit what he was trying to force into her − she thought in disbelief that it seemed more swollen to her than usual, she could feel exactly every vein of it rubbing again and again the wonderful spot inside her.

"− why is it − so big − o-oh, gods −" She mewled, moaning like a mere whore as he began to pound into her without any warning, opening her wide again and again on his throbbing cock with loud splats of his thighs against her buttocks.

She felt her wetness run down her thighs − she knew he had seen it because she heard his low groan of pleasure.

"− and what do you think − fuck, Rhaenys, I'm not going to pull it out of you tonight −" He breathed out, leaning forward, slamming into her again and again as brutally and quickly as if he'd lost his mind − he leaned one of his hands against the wall just above her head, the other clenching at the same time on her hip, forcing her to take what he was giving her.

She clenched her hands into fists, feeling the tickling, hot sensation building up in her lower abdomen at a startlingly rapid pace, her hips involuntarily beginning to respond to his thrusts, meeting him halfway, clenching around his manhood, refusing to let him go.

Her nipples swelled wonderfully as she felt him press his face against her hair, as if he was drawn to her scent, groaning and panting along with her, thrusting into her so fast and deep that he was hardly sliding out of her.

"− let me, Rhaenys − let me, let me, let me −" He uttered with a heavy breath, and she felt that it was over for her − her body shook with a wonderful, tickling shudder that she felt in her mouth, in her fingertips, in her nipples and in her weeping cunt, which began to suck him inside her in an fulfilment so strong that for a moment she saw darkness before her eyes. She heard his surprised gasp of pleasure, followed by his loud sigh of relief.

She felt his hot seed fill her womb again, his hips rocking inside her for a moment longer, his face pressed into her neck, as if he wanted to prolong this wonderful moment.

They both couldn't catch their breath, panting and quivering, his arms wrapped tightly around her waist, keeping her from slipping to the stone floor.

"− Rhaenys −" He whispered, and she sighed quietly, smiling involuntarily, tired and fulfilled.

"− hm? −"

"− stay wtih me −"

She swallowed hard and pressed her lips together into a thin line, for some reason feeling a squeeze in her throat, a wonderful elation at the thought that he craved her presence so much, that he missed her as much as she missed him.

"− I will, my love −" She hummed and heard him sigh in relief, his lips placing a soft, warm kiss on her neck.

"− what did you want to convey to me? − your mother has another condition? −" He asked reluctantly, as if he didn't want to bother himself with this topic, having her at his fingertips again. She smiled at his question, placing her hand on his arm, with which he embraced her at the waist.

Her heart sang with joy.

"− I'm carrying your child −"

She felt him freeze behind her, his breath caught in his throat.

"− what? −" He muttered, as if he thought he had overheard himself and needed her to say those wonderful words again.

She smiled under her breath feeling that, for the first time in months, happiness and hope filled her. With a soft movement, she grabbed his wrist and gently placed his hand on her lower abdomen, pressing it against her bare skin. She heard him swallow loudly, taken aback in disbelief.

"− you're going to be a father, uncle −" She hummed, turning to face him over her shoulder − her breath caught in her throat when she heard him laugh.

It was not a mocking or cold sound, more an expression of joyful disbelief, there was a warmth and happiness in his gaze from which she felt moved.

She felt the tips of his fingertips dig into the soft skin of her stomach, his lips found hers in a greedy, wet, deep kiss, his half-soft manhood pulsed deep inside her again.

"− Rhaenys − oh gods − this must be a dream −" He breathed out into her mouth, slipping his slick tongue deep into her throat, panting with delight − her walls squeezed him tight with pleasure as she felt him involuntarily begin to root into her again with the tentative, soft thrusts of his hips.

"− then it is a good dream −" She whispered tenderly into his mouth and he murmured loudly, saying no more.

This time, knowing she was expecting his child, he took her to his bed, wanting to look at her face and what he was doing to her, panting into her mouth at how much she pleased him, how well she did, already carrying his offspring in her womb.

He pulled their garments off of them, ripping his eye patch from his face, wanting to be vulnerable with her, wanting to be exposed with her.

She knew what she was to him at that moment.

A dragon egg that had cracked.

As his swollen manhood pushed against her moist slit again, he slid into her with ease, slowly and unhurriedly this time, merely rocking his hips back and forth inside her, making her lips part in delight at how gentle and tender the experience was.

His cheek snuggled into her hair and his face sank into the pillow under her head as if he didn't want her to see the expression on his face, how much pleasure he was getting from this soft intimacy.

They both moaned shyly as he slowly began to accelerate his pace, each time slapping his bare skin against her buttocks − her lips placed soft, butterfly kisses on his bare shoulder and neck, her hands ran down his back and buttocks making his soaked cock pulsate impatiently deep inside her.

"− I've missed you −" She whispered, answered by his low sigh, his hand blindly finding her breast and squeezing it lightly, as if the sensation of that plump, soft structure under his fingers gave him a sense of security and reassured him.

"− me too −" He muttered so quietly that she barely heard him, a lazy smile filled with happiness spread across her face as she closed her eyes and let herself drift off.

When it was all over, her husband, all breathless and sweaty, laid his head on her womb, facing her, looking down at her belly, running the tips of his fingers over it as if he was thinking about what was hiding under her skin.

"− how did you find out? − are you absolutely sure? −" He whispered, as if doubts were beginning to invade him, as if he feared it was too beautiful to be true. She sighed quietly at his words, the smile never leaving her face.

"− I fainted and was examined by the maester − I am sure −"

At her words her uncle furrowed his brow, raising the gaze of his healthy eye at her, his sapphire shone dangerously in the sunlight.

"− you fainted? −"

"− yes − I despaired because I didn't know when or if I would see you again −" She mumbled in embarrassment, combing his long, snow-white hair with her fingers. He closed his eye and murmured contentedly, opening his eyelid again after a moment.

"− if you had only written to me − I would have flown to Dragonstone immediately −"

"− I was afraid my message would fall into the wrong hands − I didn't want to take the risk −"

Her husband hummed at her words.

"− wise girl −"

She smiled, letting him place a warm, moist kiss on the skin of her lower abdomen.

"− I have a gift for you −" He murmured, running his fingers over the hot skin of her stomach. She looked at him, surprised, her heart beating harder in excitement.

"What's it?" She asked, curious.

"I give Harrenhal into your possession. I hand it over to you in my letter, which I have already sent to King's Landing. The fortress is your property until your death. It will then fall as a inheritance to our offspring."

She blinked, twisting in her place, looking at him in disbelief. Seeing that he grinned, she covered her mouth and giggled like a little girl, unable to contain the joy and warmth that spread through her body.

"Do you mean it?" She mumbled, unable to believe that he could do such a thing without consulting his brother and mother.

That he had made this decision alone.

Her husband hummed under his breath, trailing his fingers from her lower abdomen to her chest making goosebumps appear in the places he ran over her bare skin.

"You are your father's daughter. This is your legacy." He replied, his wide hand stroking her belly with a tenderness from which shivers ran through her.

"And my brothers?" She muttered, reminding herself that, after all, her father, although she didn't know him very well, had sons too. Her uncle smirked at her in a way that was disturbing, to say the least.

"I don't give a shit about your brothers." He sneered, making her swallow hard, wrinkling her eyebrows but unable to hide the smile of amusement from which his face lit up.

"You're cruel." She mumbled, stroking his hand lying on her womb with her fingers, softening her words and their overtones in the process. Her husband snorted at her words.

"I am. I am a walking cruelty." He whispered maliciously before he lifted himself on his hands, moving towards her, leaning over her face − his tongue invaded deep between her lips with his hum as his mouth pressed against hers in a loud, sticky, messy kiss.

She squirmed as his fingers slid from her womb between her thighs, warningly beginning to tease and squeeze her sore bud, puffy from earlier caresses and fulfillments.

"− uncle −" She mewled weakly into his mouth, feeling the wonderful tickle in her lower abdomen again, tentatively parting her thighs apart, his half-hard erection slapping impatiently against her belly, demanding her attention.

"− I warned you −" He exhaled, shifting the weight of his body to his elbow, spreading her legs apart with his knee. "− open −"

She obeyed his command obediently and whimpered loudly with exertion as she felt him try to force his long, throbbing manhood into her again with the impatient thrust of his hips.

She threw her head back as he finally broke between her oversensitive, swollen walls, pulsing around him in panic, her short nails digging into the sweaty skin of his back as he began to sink into her again, panting with pleasure.

She felt her moisture mingled with his seed ran down her buttocks.

"− too much −" She mumbled out, moaning each time he teased the sore, swollen spot deep inside her again, trying to pull out of him at the same time and bucking her hips in response to his thrusts, feeling both the discomfort and the wonderful, tickling pleasure shaking her body.

"− shhh − I know − we'll take it slow − there's no reason to rush −" He whispered tenderly, placing comforting, soft, warm kisses on her face, leaning on one forearm, his other hand stroking her effort-warmed cheek, as if trying to give her reassurance.

"− I warned you − I warned you that I wouldn't pull it out of you today − didn't I? − is your husband lying? −" He cooed, as if he were speaking to a small, frightened child. She shook her head, struggling to fit him deep inside her again and again, feeling his thighs hit her buttocks with loud splats of their shared wetness.

"− n-no − no, husband −" She mumbled, looking up at him pleadingly, running her hand over his scarred cheek, her puffy lips parted in heavy breaths. He gasped with satisfaction at her words, pressing his forehead against hers, with slow, deep thrusts making his way to his next fulfilment.

"− just like that − let me do my duty to my wife − as many times − ah − as necessary −" He exhaled, quickening his pace, swollen and already completely hard deep inside her, slamming into her with greedy, sure thrusts from which she felt like she was losing touch with reality, the chamber around them, the bed she lay on seemed blurred to her, she could only smell his scent, only feel the strong grip of his hands.

"− g-gods, Aemond −’" She mumbled out, feeling the way his bare chest pressed against hers with his low groan of satisfaction, her nipples rubbing against his exposed skin with his every push making his cock pulsate aggressively inside her with pleasure, intensifying her sensation.

She gasped when she felt him grab her thigh and lift her leg higher, putting her knee on his shoulder, pulling her closer to him.

"− uncle, what are you − o-oh, fuck, uncle, uncle, uncle, uncle −" She whined out, tilting her head back with her lips parted in disbelief, her eyes closed with her loud, shameless moans as she felt him like never before, his entire length pressing wonderfully against a place inside her with each of his thrusts, from which her body quivered all over with pleasure, writhing before him.

Nothing more than a babble and a plea left her lips as he watched her in awe, not slowing his pace, placing hot, sticky kisses on her knee, stroking her thigh with his wide hand, panting loudly along with her.

Something like a smirk of satisfaction flashed across his face as she threw her other leg over his shoulder on the other side of his head, his body leaning over her in such a way that she could in no way escape his brutal thrusts, which again and again teased the intensely oversensitive spot inside her.

"− I can't − I can't, I can't, I can't, I can't, p-please −" She cried out, but her husband didn't stop, bringing her to a state where pleasure different than usual took her speechless − she felt a sudden, wonderful relief, her walls began to squeeze and suck him inside her, she heard him hiss quietly, clearly feeling what she was feeling.

He groaned low as he came a moment later, clenching his eye, panting hard and swallowing loudly as he looked down at the sheets beneath them, under which a huge wet spot had formed.

"− did I hurt you? or the baby? −" He exhaled horrified, thinking that perhaps she had miscarried due to his brutal treatment, however there was no blood after all. She shook her head, rising on her elbow, struggling to collect her thoughts, panting loudly, her body quivering all over.

"− no − b-but − this time − it was different − I mean − my fulfilment was different − and then I felt...this −" She muttered in shame, feeling that her whole buttocks were wet. Her uncle swallowed hard at her words, embarrassed, his lips tightened into a thin line as he looked at their sticky bodies.

"− I − I think I read about it − in one of the books −" He said uncertainly and grunted softly, sliding out of her gently with a click of their shared wetness. She hissed quietly, pulling away and noticed a large, colourless stain under her buttocks, as if someone had poured water there.

"− the maester wrote in it that a woman is also able to − well − come as well as a man if she is properly… teased inside −" He hummed, licking his lower lip involuntarily, looking at the stain beneath them as if he was proud of his achievement.

She raised her eyebrows in amusement and giggled involuntarily, feeling some kind of relief.

"− what kind of books do you read, uncle? − what would your mother and Ser Criston say? −" She sneered, smiling broadly. Her husband threw her a frustrated look, which however softened after a moment, his grimace turning into a mischievous smirk.

"− in the same book I also read about this position − after I became your husband I began to delve into the mysteries of these…sensations − what else can I do with you −" He murmured, running his index finger along her thigh, a glint of satisfaction and contentment in his eye from which she sighed heavily.

She leaned back and made herself comfortable on the bedding, shifting her body closer to him so that she wasn't lying on a wet spot. Her uncle leaned on his elbow, watching her intently in silence − they stared at each other for a moment, with only the rustle of leaves and birdsong outside the open window around them.

"− I'd like to rest now −" She muttered, running her knuckles over his bare chest. Her husband hummed quietly under his breath and nodded, his broad hand stroking her head.

"− sleep − rest after the journey −" He murmured, combing his fingers through her hair the way he had when they were children. She closed her eyes and purred softly when she felt him lay his head beside her, his gaze on her face, his warm breath enveloping her cheek as his free hand covered their naked bodies with warm furs.

"− do not fret − your husband is by your side now −"

_____

Author note: Those who were to know know. I promised you, didn't I? Hehehe. 👀👀👀👀👀

[parasolladyansy]

hello! i've liked ansy's adventure for a while, and i noticed how you play on japanese names for the pokemon, especially for mizumi's and sasmu's. what do you think of the languages in the pokemon world? i can guess hisuian equals japanese, but does sinnohan/kantonese also translate into japanese? or the four japanese-based regions are adapted into english ( or unovan?) i don't know if i'm explaining myself, but how do you view the pkmn languages and their equivalents in our world?

こんばんは! Good evening! Thank you for following along ^o^/

Class is in session lol! Professor Laventon seems to be most comfortable writing in his native Galarian, though he also has various notes in traditional “Japanese”, written vertically & read right to left.

So, language is a very interesting thing in fiction, & the Pokeverse is no exception! Through the games (& especially the latest ones, Scarlet / Violet) we’ve had a number of characters who spoke in different languages. I remember a couple of NPC’s in BW Unova, there’s Fantina in Sinnoh who peppers her speech with Kalosian (French), & a Hiker on Galar’s Route 6 who spoke what I’m guessing was Paldean (Spanish) rather than Galarian (English). Then in SV, we have Mr. Salvatore who teaches (& uses) many languages (off the top of my head, I remember him teaching how to say “thank you” in Spanish, French, Chinese, & German).

It does get tricky when it comes to the “Japanese” regions of Kanto, Johto, Hoenn, Sinnoh / Hisui, & Kitakami, as those regions otherwise make up one country in our world, but this has yet to have been canonically established (which is why I always put “Japan” / “Japanese” in quotes, as there currently isn’t a name for that one country, same with “America”). I do believe they share the same language - at the very least Hisui & Kitakami have the same written script, & I feel pretty confident that if they were to retcon it, they would have the other “Japanese” regions use it, too (before Legends Arceus, they just used random shapes that didn’t seem to spell anything, which I interpreted to just be placeholder characters).

If there is a common language in their world (& I think is, from characters from different regions being able to talk to each other no problem), I personally would guess it to be “Japanese” - as we look at the other regions, we can see a sort of Japanese flavor that would otherwise not be there (though they clearly did their homework on the various parts of the world these regions reflect!). Of course, Pokémon is from Japan, so it would make sense that they would add some of their own culture to this world they created. For a possible in-universe explanation, the Pokeverse seemed to have started in Japan (specifically in Sinnoh as we learned in Legends Arceus, so I guess their universe actually is geocentric like old astronomers used to think ours was?).

I think that’s about it. In DxP REWRITE, while my own language is American-English (& beginner-level Japanese lol) so I read the characters to be speaking American-English, they are actually speaking “Japanese” while in Sinnoh (which is why I haven’t really been peppering Ansy’s dialogue with Japanese). I have tried to write in the “Japanese” or Galarian scripts for signs & things a couple times:

The sign just says “Gear Station”

Here I (tried to lol) translate Mizumi’s letter to Japanese then wrote it out in in-game characters (in the modern horizontal, as Mizumi is from the modern era writing to someone in the modern era).

Thanks for reading yet another post of me geeking out lol. Feel free to let me know your thoughts in the comments! じゃあ、またね! Until next time! ^o^/

—

PS: For funsies, here’s the (non-canonical, as these were made by fans) references I’ve been using when writing in either Galarian or “Japanese” in DxP REWRITE:

I personally was confused by the “Japanese” script also being alphabetical rather than phonetic like hiragana / katakana (two common scripts in Japan, the first being mostly used to spell Japanese words while katakana is used to spell foreign words - the third script, kanji, is used to write whole words). If that is the case (which is how I wrote it in Mizumi’s letter), “Japanese” is written in what’s called “romanji”, where they write out words in the Latin (aka Roman) alphabet rather than phonetically: “ありがとうございます” becomes “arigatō-gozaimasu” (“thank you very much”).

Whether it is actually written out that way in game though…? At a glance of the signs I saw in Hisui & Kitakami, it does look like it’s more like hiragana & kanji instead, but this chart is all I got for now. Any Japanese folks or fluent Japanese-readers who can tell me if there’s anything out there in the Japanese fandom about this, please lemme know so I can do right by it into future - as of writing this, I haven’t seen much else among the English-speaking fandom 8u8;

As for the Galarian script, it’s clearly based on the Latin alphabet that much of the Western world uses for our various languages - we see it in Paldea as well as Galar, & according to the trailer in Pokemon ZA, they retconned it to be used in Kalos as well. In universe, I wonder if they were at all influenced by the Unown, being based on the Latin alphabet themselves. Again, who knows? (though I question the accuracy of this particular font / chart: if it is, the first thing Laventon’s chalkboard says “REXBOQ” lol XD)

[draculasfavoritewife]

Hunted

Summary: Tatooine is a planet filled with old ghosts, and when one of yours rears its ugly head again, your Mandalorian takes matters into his own capable hands.

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!Reader

Warnings: Canon-typical violence and minor OC death at the end. Allusions to hunter/prey roleplay and bondage, my voice kink makes a couple of cameo appearances. I the writer was particularly thirsty for Din Djarin the day I wrote this and thus take full responsibility for the results.

This is really one of the most blatantly self-indulgent things I've written, born of many long daydreaming sessions and my love for any episode where my man rubs elbows with the delightful and despicable denizens of the OG desert planet. I truly can't explain it, Tatooine Din™️ just hits me different, so please enjoy this very long fic about it.

*Translations of less common words/phrases in Mando'a at the end

You step into the crowded main street of the city, taking a moment to let all of your senses adjust to the stark difference. The last week or so has been spent on the ship in a cold vacuum, the gleaming blur of hyperspace and the steady thrum of engines a constant gentle halo in the background. It was nice, if a little quiet for your personal taste. Your partner certainly doesn’t talk much, and you tend to spend much of your time alone with him less conversationally inclined as a result.

He’s rubbed off on you that way. 

Now the twin suns of Tatooine scorch down on you from above, making eyes that have become accustomed to soft darkness sting. A throng of street vendors, lowlifes, and ne’er-do-wells streams through the ragtag market on all sides, moving bodies chattering nonstop in floods of Basic, Huttese, Aqualish, Droid, and snatches of more exotic tongues. 

A moment, and you feel yourself suddenly at ease again, as your brain resets back to your old lifestyle in the Core Worlds. It feels like putting on a well-loved shaak-leather coat that remembers all your contours just right. 

“You look happy,” the Mandalorian observes from beside you. 

You always wonder about him, how he's actually faring under that helmet, so shiny in this harsh light that you come away with spots in your vision after glancing at him too long. Din walks with the easy confidence of a man that’s walked these alleys many times before, but you know him more personally than most. He’s a quiet man under that shell, one who vastly prefers his solitude and finds the company of most beings in the galaxy a soul-stealing chore after two minutes. 

And unlike you, he never relaxes. 

“I am.” You side-eye him, briefly admiring his prowling stride as he diligently scans the moving figures surrounding the pair of you. “Sometimes I really like big crowds.” 

“You’re crazy,” he remarks. “This many people add too many variables.” 

“Your comment stands.” You draw closer to him in order to reach into the satchel slung across his body and ruffle the Kid’s long ears. “But to me, it’s almost easier. I can usually read people’s intentions pretty well. Bodies speak louder in crowds.” 

“I suppose.” He hasn’t stopped his surveillance yet. You can guess at how his eyes are darting here and there beneath the visor. He probably has at least two escape routes planned out already, if not more. 

You want nothing more than to tell him to relax and enjoy himself — you’re not even here on hunter business, simply to refuel and stock up on supplies before your next run — but you know that’s a useless endeavor. 

“I found that strangely hot, by the way,” you say instead, since it HAS been taking up space in your mind for some time. 

“What?” 

“Finding out you speak Tusken. That’s VERY attractive.” 

It was. When he had to negotiate with the scouts on your way into town, you couldn’t deny the fluttering in your stomach at hearing his low, smoky voice bark out the harsh sounds as he supplemented his meaning with crisp sign language. 

And besides the sound of it, you certainly find it very hot for a man of his stature to be so willing and ready to communicate and settle fraught situations peacefully. 

“I — what — I don’t — ?” 

It still makes you grin, how easily flustered he is when you catch him off-guard with flirting. 

“Don’t you think so, Grogu?” You poke the Kid’s tiny nose. “Isn’t it attractive when your buir talks like that?” 

The little one squeals enthusiastically in response, probably more to your teasing than the actual question. 

“Stop that, don’t encourage her.” Din casts a disapproving look first at the Kid and then at you; it strikes you as funny how well you can translate such a simple tilt of the helmet. “And don’t you ask him that, he’s just a kid.” 

“I think you’re blushing under that bucket,” you smirk, sidling away. 

“I’m not.” 

You subside with the teasing for the time being, and the Mandalorian releases a sigh of relief as you start wandering, letting handmade jewelry and stoneware snatch your attention away from him. He’s getting better at keeping up with your rapid changes of interest, but somehow your more romantic moods still manage to get the better of him when you’re out in public. 

He blames the environment. When it’s just the two of you alone, he can see what’s coming in the slant of your lips or the way you suddenly decide to plant yourself right in front of whatever he’s working on. And he’s almost as likely to initiate now, so long as the Kid’s not in the same room. But out here, as his field of vision constantly shifts in the sea of bodies, and his right hand drifts between Grogu in his satchel and the pistol at his hip, he just doesn’t possess the bandwidth to also process what the kriff could possibly turn you on so much about his language skills. 

He tucks that particular piece of information away in a metaphorical corner, to dissect and possibly use at a later time. 

You return to him after your little side trip, flirtation seemingly forgotten for now. “I saw a ring at that one booth —” you gesture over your shoulder “— that I’m almost positive is dolovite. So pretty. I’m not even sure the vendor knows what he’s got. It’s tempting.” 

“I bet.” He notes the tone of your voice, the way you glance back one more time as the pair of you move on. 

“But we are here for the essentials, first and foremost. Maybe if it’s still there by the end of the day.” 

He nods thoughtfully, and listens as you ramble through the list of what the three of you need, both in terms of provisions and to keep the ship flying. 

The sooner you’re all able to leave this crowd and noise behind, the better. 

He doesn’t care for the feeling that his little clan’s safety isn’t completely under his control. 

Hours later, stewardship of the satchel carrying the Kid has passed over to you. Din carries the day’s purchases, slung from either end of the pole balanced across his wide shoulders. He watches affectionately from behind his immobile visage of beskar at the sight of you spiritedly haggling with a Twi’lek vendor over the price of fruit. The arm not being used to illustrate your point cradles Grogu, half-asleep, close to your torso, and it touches something deep inside him, to see you care for his foundling so naturally. 

The image almost — almost — lulls him into something resembling a dangerous sense of peace.

Almost, but not quite. 

Which is why, when the blaster bolt narrowly misses your shoulder and instead blows a crate of produce into a violently sticky explosion, he’s only a half-second slower than he normally would be as he pivots sharply and yanks out his own weapon. His shot drops the sniper leaning out of a second-story window across the street, a Rodian crumpling to the ground in a tangle of ragged cloak. 

His armor-clad body is positioned in front of you in another second, keeping you and the Kid sandwiched between the booth and his beskar as he rapidly searches for any more guns to rear their ugly muzzles. 

The market has dissolved into chaos around you, but no more fire is heard. 

You slip your DL-44 out of your back holster with one hand and push the satchel carrying Grogu further out of the way with the other. The road had cleared in seconds, the trembling fruit vendor ducking down behind his wares. The atmosphere is suddenly quiet, too many people holding their breaths all at once. 

“See anything?” you whisper to Din. 

“Negative,” he mutters back. “He was acting alone, or else the others have retreated. Looking for heat signatures is useless, they’re everywhere here.” 

A grim suspicion starts to rise in your chest, but you keep your voice removed as you step from behind him and give him a sharp nod. “Cover me? I need to take a look at our shooter.” 

He stalks behind you as you cross, your trigger finger settling into its well-worn spot in readiness. Grogu is silent; only the tips of his giant ears poke up from the top of the bag. 

For a kid, he’s been in enough firefights to know the drill by now. 

Arriving beside the smoking form of the Rodian, you flip him over and push aside the cloak, your hand drawing back when you see exactly what you were afraid you would find. 

The sigil of a sand ape emblazoned on his jacket in red. 

“Talk to me,” Din urges, voice tight. “Do you know why he was targeting you?” 

You straighten up and bite your lip for a second, struggling over the best way to break the news to him. You’d thought it was long enough ago that old scores would be forgotten, but on Tatooine, grudges rarely die, instead simmering deep beneath the filth like a krayt dragon awaiting its next meal. 

And now you’ve unwittingly brought your riduur and his ad’ika into danger. 

“I lived in Mos Eisley for a bit at one point.” You sigh. “And I left under…difficult circumstances. I’m a bit of a loose end as far as a local gang is concerned, Din. They paid well for some mercenary jobs — it was a nice temporary setup. Last hit I was hired for turned out to have a Guild bounty on him though, and they paid more to have him delivered alive. I saw a business opportunity and didn’t look back. But I made some powerful people here pretty angry.” 

“Dank farrik.” He curses under his breath. You can nearly hear his exasperated thoughts — can’t I have ONE uneventful outing? Just ONE? — but he shakes it off swiftly and is soon all business again, his next query clipped and brusque. “Does he have a tracking fob?” 

You shake your head. “They don’t want Guild here anymore, if you recall. No, it’ll be a more intimate affair, I’d bet my blades on that. This is about revenge and closure; if there’s a reward payout it’s from the boss man himself, and probably only advertised by word of mouth.” 

The Mandalorian refocuses his thoughts from where they ever so briefly derailed at your casual misuse of the term “intimate affair” and grunts his acknowledgment. “I gather the boss man wants you alive, then?” 

You laugh, a dry, ironic sound. “Oh, he will. I have a feeling he wants to watch me suffer a bit before he kills me. Or who knows?” With a shrug, you shove the body into an alleyway and return to where you both left your purchases, only the dance of your tense fingers across the grip of your blaster giving away your readiness to protect yourself. “Maybe he’ll make me his own personal slave instead. I knew all that club dancing I did would come in handy someday.” 

Din makes a hissing sound of annoyance at your flippant tongue as he follows. There’s something about the way you can talk so carelessly about such degrading fates that truly distresses him. He knows you don’t need his protection on the same level the Kid does, but the thought of either of those options actually befalling you under his watch makes his hands clench into fists, leather gloves protesting as they stretch across his knuckles. But he knows too, that dark humor is often your way of dealing with stress, so he endeavors to let it slide and not see red. 

“Do you know where he is?” he demands suddenly. 

“The boss man? I used to. And there are people I could ask.” You take the satchel with the Kid off and hand it back to him, opting to take the parcels instead. He can fight with a baby strapped to him better than you can, and knowing you’re the primary target this time, you’d rather keep him safer. “Why?” 

“Later.” His voice has gone tense again, he must have seen something you don’t. “Right now we have to get out of here. You’re too exposed.” 

Your gaze falls on a nearby speeder bike with no obvious owner nearby. “They’ve gotten lax without me around,” you smirk, straddling the bike and revving its powerful engine. “Leaving their valuables all helpless and unattended. It’s a real shame.” 

The Mandalorian is staring at you, the drop of his shoulders suggesting surprise at your brazenness. 

“Get on,” you encourage him, laying the carrying pole across the seat behind you. “You’re getting twitchy, so there must be trouble. What’s got your cape in a twist?” 

He takes a seat behind you and settles his pulse rifle across his knees. “There’s a couple more in similar jackets closing in,” he reveals in an undertone. “And I just haven’t seen you…steal a vehicle before, is all.” 

A shot pings over his helmet before you can properly react to that. 

“Drive!” he orders, pivoting to return fire. 

You oblige, gunning the motor and tearing off down the main thoroughfare. “There’s still a few things you haven’t seen me do, Cyare,” you toss back as he dusts one of the gang members on your way past. “You and the Kid made me go soft.” 

He huffs doubtfully and nods to a narrow opening between buildings up ahead. “Can you get us out of sight?” 

“If you hang on tight enough.” You execute a tight turn at the last moment and shoot down the alley, glad the bike is compact enough to follow the cramped tunnel between the crumbling dwellings. “It’s gonna be rough ’til we’re in the open, though.” 

Din doesn’t answer in words, but his free arm wraps around your waist and you can feel the Kid’s small body tucked between the two of you. 

And it’s almost an oddly pleasant feeling, outrunning any would-be pursuers with the two of them held so close. 

By the end of the hour, supplies have been loaded into the ship and Grogu has been left in the doting care of Peli, who as always is more than happy to entertain the little guy as long as you and Din keep trouble far away from her repair station. You and the Mandalorian are now camped out on a rooftop overlooking the marketplace, a tattered fabric canopy mercifully providing some scant relief from the sunlight if not the oppressive heat. As always, your riduur appears totally indifferent to such a thing as physical discomfort, leaning out from under the awning to scope the street below through the sight of his rifle. 

Does his armor have an internal cooling system? Or are Mandalorians really just that tough? 

“You know, we could just leave,” you finally suggest. “It’s not like this particular group ever goes off-world.” 

“We could.” 

You can tell there’s a reason why he won’t. 

“But I return to Tatooine semi-frequently. And I don’t want you to constantly be looking over your shoulder every time.” 

You sit back with a sigh, idly tuning up your blaster. His ways are still foreign to you sometimes. Before your partnership, you made a life depending on adaptability and quick thinking. Having only yourself to worry about, and knowing there was no one else out there worrying about you, made it easier to simply uproot and go elsewhere whenever the heat was on you. 

Din is nearly the opposite. If there’s a way he can make things more secure for those in his care, if there’s a good enough reason, he won’t ever back down from a struggle.

He already has his mind made up. 

It’s just a bit jarring to realize that you’re the good enough reason this time. 

“What are you thinking, then?” you prompt. 

He doesn’t break his focus on the area below as he answers. “I’m thinking I just killed a couple gang members and got some interesting information out of them. I’m ex-Guild and looking for work, and being a ruthless mercenary, I might just be willing to turn on a crew member if the price is right.” 

You can’t help your sudden intake of breath at his ingenious plan. “And once we get there?” 

He finally turns to face you, his next words cold and hard as tempered beskar. “Then we kill him.” 

And there’s something a little bit more menacing in there than simple pragmatism. He has taken on the role of cabur for you and the Kid; this isn’t just about keeping trouble off your backs in future. 

Someone has threatened you, and he will not rest until that threat has been put down.

That is his duty, and he will not shirk it. 

“I love you,” you murmur, barely above the hot breeze that rakes through your hair. 

He rises to his feet, shoulders his rifle. “And I you. Which is why we’re going to have to make this look convincing. You get a two-minute head start. Whenever you’re ready.” 

You swipe a dull sand-colored cloak from a stall as you pass, immediately diving into the heart of the throng, which seems to have recovered from the earlier incident. Mos Eisley is nothing if not desensitized to crime and violence, and for a moment, you almost lose yourself in awe at the apathy of the average citizen as you let the flow of movement carry you along. Nobody cares what happens around here, so long as it doesn’t happen to them. 

It’s…odd, to remember how it felt to think that way. 

Shaking yourself back into the moment, you weave between beings of all shapes and sizes, focusing on making yourself forgettable and not appearing in too much of a hurry. You know Din will find you no matter where you end up — he’s just too good at his job not to. So for the moment you let yourself enjoy this little game, a moment spent as the quarry of a very desirable predator. 

It would be a lie to say you haven’t fantasized about this before. 

A ripple passes through the crowd to your left and behind you, people shifting to make room, like river currents split by a large stone. Only one person you know could possibly cause such a stir.

Only idiots choose to stand in the way of a hunting Mandalorian. 

Which means he’s here. 

Your heart accelerates and you try to think of a way to stall him just a little longer. Reluctantly pulling a few credits from your belt pouch, you regretfully let them scatter in the dust, knowing the only thing that reliably beats fear is greed. The people nearest to you devolve into pushing and shoving in their eagerness to get their hands on them, a writhing wall springing up between you and your pursuer. 

With a grin, you slip backwards, drifting in the opposite direction of where you had been headed before, catching the barest glimpse of sun glaring off metal as you pass. 

That's a little longer. 

He’ll expect you to be thinking the way he thinks, not the way you do, so you stamp down the inclination to think that way and instead travel into a seedier part of town, seeking out more raucous company. Wandering through cantinas and gambling dens, you pick up a refreshing blue milk along the way and almost start to let the tension ebb from your muscles. But when you see him emerge from the street and gaze through the window of the same building you were just about to exit, your adrenaline shoots up again. A dash through a maze of alleys and one stolen ride on the back of a droid rickshaw later, and even you aren’t so sure what part of the city you’ve made it to. 

The twin suns are finally beginning to sink lower in the sky as you thoughtfully chew on a piece of bantha jerky and walk through a crowded residential section, no doubt where the lower classes live. It’s much quieter here, the low-income strata not having the credits to spend on frivolities at the market. 

It’s almost…too quiet. 

You hear him before you see him, an almost deceptively musical clink of the explosive charges on his belt against his vambrace as his arm brushes past. There’s nowhere to run anymore, so you pull back your hood with an admittedly dramatic flourish and discard your savory treat, hands sliding to the twin vibroblades sheathed at your thighs. 

“So, its finally come to this, Mando.” You pull your knives and take up a fighting stance. “No use in trying to sweet-talk you out of this, is there?” 

He doesn’t answer, just pulls his own blade and gestures with his chin as if saying “Try me”. 

So you do. 

The pair of you has sparred many times before, and this altercation is brief but outwardly brutal. Finesse is nice, but necessity calls for any potential advantage to be pressed and pressed hard. For the agility your much lighter choice of clothing grants you, you can’t dent him when fully armored, so finally you resort to simple but effective tactics and throw dust in his face. 

Even a visor with a heat sensor takes a second to recalibrate from that. 

You do, however, have a scripted ending for this outing, and as you sprint off, his grappling cable snakes around your hips and down your legs, dropping you in the sand. He strides up to you, tosses a pair of binders down next to you. 

“Cuff yourself,” he orders, breath coming in heavy pants after your scuffle. “I’m taking you in.” 

And since it’s him who just captured you, who would have captured you eventually no matter what because he’s just THAT good, you don’t mind. 

No, you reflect as he hefts you over his shoulder and walks away from the few scattered spectators your fight drew out, you really don’t mind this arrangement at all. 

Maybe you’ll have to tell him that, later. 

Your former employer’s headquarters are still where you remember them, and you almost smirk at the sense of uncomfortable familiarity when Din lowers you to the floor and unties your legs. Still cuffed — and a bit tired after spending the afternoon trying to outwit the best hunter in the parsec — it’s not difficult to look angry and beaten down, kneeling there in the dust. 

The boss man rises from his seat at the table, a hulking Devaronian with a chipped horn and a hungry grimace. He swaggers over, nods at the Mandalorian standing behind you. 

“I suppose I can turn a blind eye at the loss of a few good men for this. You have absolutely no idea how this one little troublesome scavenger has been occupying my thoughts.” 

Din remains silent, simply holding out a hand, a wordless demand for payment. 

Your old boss grins, nods to a couple of lackeys to bring over the credits, hauls you to your feet by the back of your shirt. 

The Mandalorian’s hand brushes past your leg as you move, and one of your knives is quietly returned to its sheath. 

“Since you turned tail and ran so quickly after disobeying me, I assume you have some idea of what I do to clever little turncoats, don’t you?” sneers the Devaronian, leaning altogether too close for your liking. 

Your cuffed hands lower in seeming fear as you shrink beneath his intimidating glare. 

“This is going to be fun,” he threatens, a hand drawing up your neck and along your jaw. “You need to learn some respect, and I’m going to —” 

The vibroblade sunk deep into his chest cuts his words off rather suddenly. 

There’s a lot you can still do, even in binders. 

The outraged lackeys are swiftly dropped by precise shots from Din, and the two of you are left gazing at each other in a now oddly quiet room. 

“I don’t know if I’d call that ‘fun’," you remark to your limp ex-boss, crouching to retrieve your knife. “A little anticlimactic, actually. Bit of a shame I had to do that. But also satisfying to see your plan turn out so well, don’t you think, Mando?” 

Din doesn’t answer right away, tucking away the bounty that he earned by catching you. “We should be on our way,” is what he finally grunts. “There’ll be more gang members swarming this place any minute now.” 

“I agree.” Rising to stand in front of him, you hold out your arms expectantly, casting a flirty smile up at his dark visor. “And, much as I enjoyed being your prisoner for a day, you can let me go now.” 

There’s a long pause. 

He stares down at your bound wrists, up at your face, down at your wrists again. He appears to be pondering something very intently, and your breath turns a little choppy for some reason. 

“I don’t think I will,” he says simply, after a little more consideration. 

“You won’t?” 

“Not yet.” His large hands tenderly find your hips, and he throws you over his shoulder again, walking out the exact same way you came in. “You’ve caused me quite a day here, you know. Keeping track of you like this might be the only way to make sure we don’t run into any more trouble.” 

“What would happen if I screamed ‘Help, I’m being kidnapped!’ as you carry me down the street?” 

He snorts. “No one’s going to help you here, Cyar’ika. Who’s going to challenge a Mandalorian over his prisoner?” 

You smirk. “No one in their right mind.” 

“Besides, you just said you enjoyed this.” There it is, a sly edge to his filtered voice, the indicator that he has more going on in his mind than simply staying out of more trouble. 

“Oh no, caught by an attractive bounty hunter! I’ll probably never see the light of day again.” You groan dramatically and drape yourself a bit more comfortably as he loosens up into an easier stride. “I’m completely at his mercy — who KNOWS what devious things he’ll do to me behind closed doors?” 

“This bounty hunter is hot and tired, and in need of a shower, if that gives you any consolation.” 

“Ah.” You poke him in the back. “Are you saying you’re all sweaty under this shiny shell, Cyare?” 

A hand slides up the back of your thigh, a subtle reminder that you ARE currently at his mercy, as you just said. 

Undeterred, you try again, knowing he must be getting more riled up than he lets on. “Have I ever told you how much I like it, when you take all these awful layers off for me and you’re all sweaty underneath…?” 

“I would rein in my suggestive tongue a little, if I were you.” He’s still looking straight ahead, but the edge beneath his words is a bit more strained now. “If you behave for me until we get back to the ship, maybe I’ll even take those binders off.” 

“And if I don’t?” 

He sighs. “My belt compartment back there. Take a look.” 

You manage to get it open, and can’t quite stifle a delighted sound as you pull out the dolovite ring from much earlier. “You sneaky son of a — ! How — ?” 

“I gave you a two-minute head start,” he shrugs, by way of explanation. 

“I adore you,” you inform him as you slip the ring onto your finger, admiring its burnished color. “I’ll be a good little prisoner for you, Mando, I promise. And who knows…,” you nudge him again. “Maybe I’ll let you keep these binders on me after all, since you’ve been so good to me today.” 

He can’t find anything to say to that, but by the fact that you can see the flush creeping up the back of his neck in that tantalizing gap between cowl and helmet, you know he’s definitely sweating now, if he weren’t before. 

“Is my big bad bounty hunter at a loss for words?” you tease softly. 

He clears his throat. “Just saving my voice, Mesh’la. If you’re REALLY well-behaved, I might — possibly — be persuaded to talk Tusken to you later. Possibly.” 

The idea takes a moment to fully crystallize in your brain; Din, and a shower, and binders, and if you just stop teasing him so naughtily in public he might actually bring that unreasonably provocative language into the bedroom? 

You finally let yourself relax into his hold, and after a bit you hear his breathy sigh of relief that you aren’t going to keep tormenting him anymore for the moment. 

After all, he has put forth an offer you can’t refuse. 

Ad'ika = Little One/Small child

Cabur = Protector

[magnoliabutters]

• THOUGHT YOU DIDN'T CARE •

pairing: joel miller x (18+, she/her) reader

summary: joel and ellie are tasked to move a package from jackson to san diego. little did they know you were the "cargo..."

warnings: 18+ content, mdni, adult language, cordycep apocalypse related violence & weapons, canon divergence, tlou part 1 & 2 spoilers; angst, medium to slow burn, pet names, voyuerism, sub!joel and dom!reader, age gap in pairing, masturbation, etc.

word count: ~6.3k

support your writer: reblogs for daddy joel ✨🌿

request: by @yourmomsmilfmistress; katrina babes, i have another idea!!! i was thinking something along the lines of (whatever male character you want/ im not picky) is OBSESSED with reader and one day after a torturous hangout he starts to 🍆💦 ( ya know) after she leaves and for some reason it's not working and it's like he's just edging himself but (of course) reader comes and walks in on it and it's like sub!male and dom!reader smut!!!

note: um… most definitely. the way i thought of joel freaking miller instantly. sub male? common now 😈 we are set in a post-tlou part 2 world where no one died, abby who?, and ellie lives happily on the farm (aka 20+ age). also, loosely following the plot of part 1. for visuals of characters, i am moving forward with what we’ve seen so far of hbo’s part one and game’s part two casting. although as it’s older ellie, i went with video game looks. hopefully that makes sense. enjoy my fellow hoes ⚡️

Don't tell them your name. Just tell them you're there to see Maria.

His words keep running through your head as you gallop atop your trusted steed, Horse. He told you, repeatedly, that they will find you - not the other way around. All you needed to do was get to the vicinity of Jackson County. Well, you are about a mile into said county and you haven't come across a single person. Let alone, a single runner.

The two things cannot co-exist this far from the cities. If there are no runners or clickers, then there must be people. If there are infected, there are no people. But emptiness? That is something unheard of. It puts you on edge. You swear you want to just yell, yell to draw something out. But that would be stupid. You don't know how many are out here ... people or infected.

You hop over a razor wired fence in the middle of the road. Its height hits a the top of your knee. Perfect stop runners. Your first sign that people have been in this neck of the woods. The deeper you get into Jackson County, you wonder why all you need to say is "I'm here to see Maria." Would these people attack you and saying those words would be the only thing to stop them? Or are they dumb enough to bring just about anyone back into their town? You have absolutely no clue what he has signed you up for.

Fear stands your hairs on end. It fuels your adrenaline and heart as Horse guides you into an opened field. On the main road, you read a sign that displays "surface may be icy." You're thankful you were assigned this job in the middle of July. In front of you, you note green ivory glued to the brick walls of an old music store. The roads were shit, as usual. Cracks and bumps from overgrowth and lack of maintenance. You hope they are not too rough on Horse's shoes. She had them switched out in Colorado, back when you saw your people last.

Horse abruptly stops. Harsh enough for your full body to push up against her back. "Fuck," you grumble with a hand to your head. "What the hell?" You slowly open your eyes to note the clicker before you. With widening eyes, you swiftly reach to unhook your knife from the saddle. As quiet as a mouse, you hop off of the pillion and carefully land your feet on the grass below. You side step as you make your way closer. its clicks grow louder as it uses its echolocation in the opposite direction.

Your eyes are constantly moving, wondering if there are any other infected around. There is luckily no movement. Just one single clicker. The fungi sporadically growing throughout its body. The cordyceps on full display on its face - if you can even call it a face. In your last two steps, you rush up to it. You hook your arm over its chest. Your fingers curve over its shoulder as you grip tightly against the rough flesh. With your other hand, you stab your knife into the crook of its neck. It quickly became limp in your arms. You let slide off your body and ultimately onto the road.

"Drop the knife," you hear behind you. The voice is rough and booming. You gradually put your hands up. You drop the knife, careful to have it fall upon its hilt and not its blade. "On your knees," it bellows. You laugh, tilting your head to the side. "No can do," you scoff. "I only get on my knees when I want to." The man behind you laughs as he slowly walks up to you. His boots crunching against the dirt and gravel.

"On your knees," another voice appears. Despite its higher tone, it is just as rough. A smile grows upon your face as you carefully drop to your knees. "Oh for you, of course," you mutter to the woman. She quickly grabs hold of your wrist and places it behind your back. Her grip harsh and tight. You release a laugh as you lean back into your captor. "I'm here for Maria," you mutter.

Abruptly, the movements behind you stop. The grasp remains tight. "Maria?" the exasperated man's voice pushes through the air. His boots' steps become faster as he rushes behind you. "Why?" the woman asks. You feel the cool head of a gun at the back of your neck. "Hey, hey, hey," you furiously mumble. "I-I'm a smuggler. I'm with a group of people who told me Maria owes them one. I just got sent here for her to pay the debt."

The gun is pressed harder against your neck. "What debt?" the man's voice asks. You move your head to the side, attempting to pull yourself away from the gun's focused point. The gun holder makes sure it stays against your skin despite your movements. "I don't even know, man. I was just sent here. They told me to say 'I'm here for Maria' and that she would know what to do," you spit out.

You hear the man pace behind you. He sighs heavily. His voice hushed as he speaks towards the woman. "I don't feel good about this, El," he whispers. "Does she have any people in her past?" the woman asks. "Not that I know of," he says as those steps draw closer once more. You are suddenly pushed to the ground. You cut up your chin as you couldn't catch yourself in time. "Fuck," you mutter into the ground. "Your name," he mumbles. "I don't have time for games." You yell as your palms lay flat against the surface. "Rita," you quickly lie.

"Alright, Rita," the man's voice bustles behind you. "Let's go." Next thing you knew, a bag was pulled over your head. Your head was then banged against the hard rubber bedding of a truck.

They grip against the bag over your head so hard that it pulls on some of your hair as it uncovers your face. Your eyes slowly blink to adjust to the light. "Shit," you grumble as you relax your arms, only to realize that you were tied to a chair. Rope. Fuck, you think. Rope hurts the most.

"Now, Rita, I'm not going to ask again. Why are you here for Maria?" The familiar voice asks. You squint to look in his direction. A latino man with slicked black hair crouches before you. You look behind him to recognize that you were in a stable - a wooden stable. There is hay all over the floor, but no horses. What kind of stable doesn't have horses? As your eyes trail back towards your feet, you note red splotches staining the wooden floor below you. "Damn it," you whisper the elongated swear under your breath. You know exactly what kind of place this is.

"I told you already, man," you whine. "My people didn't tell me shit. Just that I was assigned a job and Maria owed a ride." You look into the brown eyes staring holes into your face. "I'm here to collect on that ride," you whisper. "To where?" the man asks. "I'll tell Maria ... once I get my ride," you answer with a smirk. The man raises his fist as his upper lip tenses. You wince at the sight.

“Tommy!” You recognize the woman’s voice as he holds back his fist. She walks out from the darkness of one of the stables. You smile at the sight. She looks younger than you. Her reddish brown hair gave you goosebumps. Her eyes a greenish blueish grey. Something you would have envied as a child. She some how looks sweet, but also has clearly endured so much in her short time.

“So, we have Tommy,” you share as you nod towards the man. “And El,” you murmur as you look up to her. You smile - a smile that El winces at. “I’m not here to cause trouble,” you sigh as you attempt to shrug against the chair. “I don’t want to give anyone grief. I just need to talk to-” Suddenly, a remarkable woman bursts through the doors. Another man at her side. Her eyes serious and hellbent. Her skin a deep and beautiful brown. She is undeniably gorgeous, and surprisingly pregnant. She definitely had the glow, complete with her large firmed bump. “Tommy, what the hell is this?” she asks sternly.

Maria, you think. They never gave you a picture, but you knew from the second she commanded that room. The second both Tommy and El backed away from you. Their hands either up or open at their sides. She was in charge. And she was headed right for you. “Maria,” you say with a sing songy voice. Her head shoots your way. “I need a ride.”

Maria stares down at your smile. Her upper lip pulls, just like Tommy’s. “Where?” she asks calmly. “San Diego,” you answer. “San Diego?” she scoffs. “I don’t owe them that much.” You tilt your head, smiling to yourself. “Well, someone thinks you do,” you smirk. Tommy grunts as he steps towards you. Maria quickly puts out an arm across his chest.

With a sigh, she returns her gaze to you. Her arm still across his chest. You are curious about those two. “I obviously can’t take you myself,” she mutters. “Obviously,” you affirm as you nod towards her stomach. “I’ll find you someone. You’ll leave in the morning,” she says carelessly. She turns around and speaks to her people. “Untie her,” she says under her breath.

The man who walked in with her quickly follows through with her demand. You rub your wrists and forearms where the rope’s red rings pressed into your skin. You stand with the devil’s smile across your face. El is the first to walk up to you, while Tommy’s eyes are still daggers. “Hey, sorry,” she says as she rubs the back of her neck. “Things didn’t go so well the last time a new person asked about one of our people.” You hum as you nod. “Make sense,” you say under your breath as you return your gaze to Tommy.

“Maria’s his wife,” El adds as she follows your eyes. “He’s been extra sensitive, given the baby and all.” You smile at her words. She pulls your attention. “It’s also Ellie by the way,” she mumbles. She gestures goodbye and walks out. “Rita?” the man asks. You look at him with confusion. “My name’s Jesse. Come on, follow me.” With hesitation, you follow the tall man out into the dark night.

Your eyes quickly fall upon the string lights crossing from building to building. It is so beautiful your mouth gapes open. “We have a small bed and breakfast for travelers,” he shares as he points to a building at the end of the street. “Shit - a bed and breakfast?” you scoff under your breath. As you walk, you note the happy and clean people randomly walking about. They are loud - comfortably loud. It must be nice.

“Where you from?” Jesse asks. His gaze stuck on you. “I don’t do small talk,” you say with a weak smile. “I don’t mean to be rude.” He laughs, raising his hands. “No, I get it. Just trying to make conversation,” he answers. “Oh, well if we’re making conversation, tell me what your favorite color is,” you teasingly laugh. He chuckles, shooting you a sweet smile. “Orange,” he scoffs. “You?” You nod, smiling as you step onto the front deck of this apparent bed and breakfast. “Green.”

With quick goodbyes, you go inside and easily secure your room. The room is on the first floor. Inside the small space, you have a worn down desk, chair, and bed. Your pack is already resting against the foot of the bed frame. You grab the back of the chair and hook it underneath the door’s knob. You turn the lock and deadbolt the door. When you finally lay back to rest, you reflect on your day. It didn’t go as well as you had hoped - as you had been told. But at least you are alive. At least you are on your way to San Diego.

After the best sleep of your life, Jesse led you to a building across the way. Maria, Tommy, Ellie, Jesse, another woman and a man sit alongside a long dinner table. The woman appears sweet. She sits closely to Ellie. The man is something else. His demeanor laid back, like he had no care in the world. His face kind, but also worn thin after years of this shit world. You can immediately see through the facade and know he is good. But damn does he give off such a strong guard dog vibe. He has random patches of grey amongst his black hair and beard. His eyes dark, but youthful. You struggle to keep your eyes off of him. He watches you, though. He sized you up as soon as you walked through the door.

“Rita,” Maria calls out. You are too busy attempting to watch him through your eye lashes. “Rita,” she says louder. You quickly turn your attention to her. Only now remembering that Rita was the name you gave them. “Yes,” you answer with high energy. “These are my best people,” she shares. “I want Joel and Ellie on this.” Ellie sits up straight, shocked as she exchanges looks with the girl beside her. The two begin to discuss in hushed tones. The man abruptly turns towards Maria, disingenuously laughing under his breath. “No, Maria,” he scoffs. “That ain’t happening.” The man stands, his hands firm against the table. He must be Joel. Rarely have you met someone who’s name perfectly fits them. It makes you smile.

Maria sighs as though she saw this coming. “I would go myself-” she starts. “So let me go,” Tommy interjects. Joel and Maria quickly respond “no” in unison. Maria takes a breath as she slowly looks to her partner. “I’m about to pop. You can’t go,” she whispers. “I need you.” Tommy solemnly nods as he looks back towards the rest of the group. Maria turns back to Ellie with patient eyes. “Ellie, Dina - are y’all okay with this?” she asks. Dina nods, looking at Ellie. "J.J. will be fine. You should go," she whispers. Ellie then turns to Maria and nods.

Joel's scoff could be heard from two buildings down. "This is bullshit, Maria and you know it," he yells as he slams his hand against the table. Tommy stands, pointing towards him. "Watch it, Joel," he warns through gritted teeth. Maria takes a breath as she looks between Ellie and Joel. "You two have gone across state lines more times than any of us. This should be easy as pie," she says softly. He rolls his eyes as a deep, unenthused chuckle falls from his lips. "What's the cargo?" he asks with furrowed brows as he looks off in the distance.

Maria turns towards you. She rakes over you with slight confusion and hesitation. Within a second, there was a moment where her face smoothed out. She took a breath and returned to Joel. "She is," she states with finality. Your face remains looking down the table, but your eyes travel to Joel's seat. He gradually turns to look at the group. With a guttural growl, he says, "Absolutely not." Maria throws her hands up. "Joel, they will come to collect. I will not put anyone else's life in danger," she yells.

"If they come to collect, they can take her dead body," Joel booms as he pulls a gun from his holster and points it towards your head. You remain still. Your breathing intensified as the remainder of the group stands to their feet. "Joel," Maria says softly. "We need her - whether you like it or not. We need her in San Diego." Joel exhales through his flared nostrils. His mouth tight as he looks down at you through the sights of his pistol.

"What's so important about her?" he asks as he lowers the gun. Maria sighs in relief. "I don't know," she shakes her head. "All I know is these people helped us in a pinch back when me and dad started up. They said they'd come to collect and all they needed was a team to get something to San Diego." Tommy watches her intently. It must have been the first time she shared this with him. "I've seen what these people have done when groups don't pay up, Joel," she mutters. "We will not win that fight without losing everything."

Joel sucks his tongue against the back of his teeth. He holsters his gun and walks towards the front door. He hooks a backpack over his shoulder and turns back towards the group. "Ellie?" he asks as he slowly opens the door. You turn to watch Ellie kiss Dina. She presses her head against hers and whispers things you cannot make out. They separate with a strong embrace. Ellie walks towards Joel. "You coming, Rita?" she calls out behind her. You stand immediately. Your shocked eyes fall upon Maria and Tommy as you attempt to process everything that has happened in the past few minutes. You grab your pack and walk out to meet the pair in the street.

Ellie watches Joel with trust and a hint of distaste. You wonder about their story. As you walk up, the two stop talking and turn to look at you. "Hello," you greet awkwardly. "While we're out there, you do exactly what I say - when I say. Understand?" Joel says sternly as he points a finger in your face. How could those sweet eyes simultaneously look so threatening? "Understood," you whisper under your breath as you exchange looks with Ellie.

Joel quickly turns and heads straight to what looks like a mechanic's garage. "Does he always have a stick up his ass?" you ask as you skip to catch up with Ellie. She smiles, nervously biting her lip. "At first," she mutters under her breath as her eyes remain on him. "The Chevy," he asks a man standing behind the desk. He promptly hands him keys without question. You nod, noting how nice it must be to live in Jackson.

"Chevy, huh?" you say, attempting to start a conversation with the man. Joel completely ignores you as he slides the keys into the door handle. "Nice try, but he's not going to crack for a while," Ellie whispers in your ear as she walks to the other side of the truck. You laugh as you open the side door and hop into the backseat. "Seatbelt," he says softly as he points Ellie's way. "Oh," she mutters as she slides it over her body and clips it at her side.

The three of you sat in silence for the first hour of the trip. It was unbearably boring. Wyoming's sights were not as incredible outside of Jackson county. You wish you could sleep, but did not trust the two enough to even try. "Joel," Ellie starts but continues to laugh. "Remember when we cleared this hotel. Remember the tomatoes?" She laughs so hard that she holds her stomach. She leans fully against the passenger seat as she kicks her feet up. You swear you watch Joel crack a smile as he watches the girl burst into a laughing fit. You wish you got a better look.

"What happened with the tomatoes?" you curiously ask Ellie. She turns, struggling to speak between laughs. As she starts, Joel quickly interrupts her. "Don't tell her anything. She's cargo, nothing more," he instructs. Ellie sinks into her chair. Her expression perplexed as she seemed excited to share. "Just cargo, huh?" you taunt. His face remains still as he eyes focus on the road. "Wow, you Jackson people are the sweetest I've ever met," you say sarcastically. "Maybe I should just dip out on this trip. I can probably make it on my own."

Joel quickly slams against the breaks. Your shoulder digs into the back of his seat as you let out a stunned groan. "What the hell?!" you yell. "We are taking you to San Diego, or we are taking your body," he turns to say with stern eyes. You place distance between you two. A sudden rush of alertness and danger bursting through your body. "Let me be clear. I don't care if you're dead or alive by the end of this trip. We are paying off Maria's debt," he seethes. "I'd recommend shutting up if you plan to get there alive."

You suck your tongue against your cheek as you laugh under your breath. You lean back harshly against the back of your seat. "Eyes on the road, asshole," you say as you nonchalantly gesture towards the street. He rolls his eyes as he faces forward behind the wheel. He presses on the gas gradually. Ellie sits in awkward silent with a tight lip. She finds comfort in looking out the window.

Less than a week has gone by and you are barely crossing the border into Utah. In each passing day, you learn something new about Ellie. She loves to draw. She met her partner, Dina, on the first day she got to Jackson. Her son is named after Jesse and Joel. She calls him her "potato" - an incredible nickname you find endearing. The days are starting to blend together, but Ellie remains a highlight of each.

Joel, on the other hand, has remained annoyingly silent. He solely speaks to Ellie. If he does choose to talk to you, it is usually some demand where he forgot how to say "please." He is abundantly cold. It is infuriating. Here and there, you catch him staring your way. His glimpses seem familiar, as opposed to his usual and intentional looks of anger.

He never looks at your eyes, but his gaze tends to fall on your lips and hair. Any time you caught his eye line, he would immediately look away. The way his gaze lingered on you always left you in a ball of confusion. You thought you would have been on edge, being stared at for hours on end. Yet, you loved it. It made you feel seen. It made you feel beautiful. If he wasn't so vocal about his disapproval, you would think he had a "thing" for you. For now, you just enjoy his looks - hoping they are filled with adoration and not hatred.

Luckily for the three of you, communication was not needed as much when taking out the infected. The trio even came across a group of clickers a day ago. Without saying a word, the three put on their gas masks and stepped into the spores. They could all hear the clicking echoing through the old and damaged walls. With only nods and looks, the three separated and silently took down each clicker.

You turned to look at them with excitement. “That was awesome!” you said joyously. “Very SWAT-team.” Ellie was kind enough to crack a smile as she cleaned her blade on the side of her jeans. You turned to Joel, waiting for any reaction. He gave you absolutely nothing. He shook off the blood on his machete and gracefully placed it back onto his backpack. He then immediately moved toward the cabinets in front of him to search for supplies. God, did he really not have a sense of humor?

Tonight, you find yourself resting beside Ellie in a closed off room. The day was once again filled with ambiguous look exchanges with Joel. Your body aches from taking out runners. You wonder if you'll be in pain for the entire trip. The room rests at the end of a long hallway with no other entrances or exits. The only doorway to the outside was located at the end of the hallway and was guarded by the one, Joel Miller. You continued to wrestle with sleep as you lay uncomfortably in your sleeping bag. You have now spent hours staring at the plant infested ceiling. Ellie, luckily, rests peacefully at your side. She felt safe enough to put earbuds in to help her sleep. Another thing of hers to be jealous of.

After a few hours, you decide that it will most likely be impossible for you to sleep tonight. You quietly stand and put your pajama shorts over your undies. You open the door into the hallway. It's long corridor was scarier at night. You pull your flashlight from your pocket. Clicking it on, you remind yourself that the only door is at the very front. You would undeniably see if anyone entered the dark hallway with you.

As you reach the end of the hall, you begin to hear quiet moans coming from the other side of the door. Your mind quickly rushes to the thought of a runner making their way inside. But once you hear slight heavy breathing and groans, you immediately recognize that the sounds were coming from Joel. Excitement bursts through your chest as you press your ear against the door. You could not have imagined a better sound escaping his lips. His groans sound so sweet, so supple. You wish you could be the reason they fall from his lips.

You nervously turn back to see that the door at the other end of the lengthy hallway remained close. There was no way anyone would be able to hear at the other end. Not unless they were right where you were standing. With a smile, you hear his breathing louden. You wish you could see him. See his brows pulling together as his mouth hangs open. You wish you could watch him stroking himself. You would bet on your life that his cock was large and girthy. You have been stealing glances of it beneath his tight jeans.

Your mouth starts to water as you hear his moans grow louder. It takes all your strength and will not to burst through the doorway and beg him to let you help. God, would you absolutely beg for that man - without question. You wonder who's on his mind. Who could possibly be the lucky person whom he is wanking off to? Your legs feel weak. You actually contemplate sitting down and playing with yourself alongside his intoxicating moans.

“Oh, Rita,” you hear fall from his mumbling lips. Your entire body lights up with pleasure. He is thinking about you… Your legs buckle beneath you as you struggle to stay standing. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you hear escape his lips. He must be close. You swear you can hear the slapping against his skin. All your blood rushes towards your clit. You want him - bad.

Out of no where, Joel stops. You hear a sound of frustration but remain curious. Was he edging himself? Shit. Why is that even hotter? you think to yourself. His moans slowly start again. Your mouth hangs open as you tighten your knees together. The friction feels good but it’s definitely not enough. You wish you could touch him. You wish he would be muttering your name as your hand strokes his dick. You wish his big hands could hold your head down as you take all of him in your mouth.

Almost as though you two were connected, Joel’s moans started to repeat more and more. His breathing heavies as your knees tighten harsher and harsher against themselves. Your clit now pulsating, desperate for stimulation. You cover your mouth, hoping your own gasping breaths were not loud enough to hear in the other room.

His voice strains as he gets closer and closer. He mumbles again, “Yes, Rita.” Shit, why aren’t you already in there? Your entire body is on fire but, oh, so nervous. You hear his skin slapping against each other. His moans growing louder. You hear a bump against the wall. His voice begins to break. God, he’s so fucking close.

“Oh baby just like that,” Joel whines. “Cum for me,” you whisper on repeat. Then silence fills the air. You worry if he might have heard you. You’re sure that him catching you listening in is so much worse than you catching him jacking off. “Damn it,” he yells softly with a grunt. That’s when you realize he isn’t edging on purpose. It seems like he can’t get past that final push. To release all that pent up energy.

You could help him. You know you want to. It’s the right thing to do. He must be in so much pain - all swollen down there, thinking about you. You would be helping him. You are so selfless. With a deep breath for courage, you quickly knock and open the door.

You spot Joel in his jean shirt. His legs are spread wide while he sits, bare, on the couch. His pants wrapped around his ankles as he holds his lengthy cock in one hand. His head rests back onto his other. As he hears the door creak open, he nervously grabs hold of a pillow and covers himself. You have never once seen shock and worry on the man’s face until now.

“Shit,” he yells as he scrambles to cover himself. You play dumb, covering your gaping mouth with your hand. “I’m so sorry Joel,” you whisper. “I-I thought I heard my name so I came out here,” you slyly taunt as you end with a smirk. Joel’s usual annoyed face returns as he realizes you know the truth. “Why didn’t you just come get me?” you ask innocently as you sit on the arm rest of his couch.

Joel watches you in confusion as he recognizes your advances. “I shouldn’t have done this, I’m-” he starts. You swiftly interrupt, “No need for apologies. I’m just confused is all.” You gracefully fall beside him. Your bare thigh touching his. The tips of your fingers dance atop his thigh. His grip onto the pillow covering his unit grows tighter by the second. “I thought you didn’t care about me,” you whisper as you lean closer to his face. You are now still, a few inches from his face.

"We don't have to do this," Joel mutters. His teeth locked as he watches you. He must think he's in danger. No, its quite the opposite. "Do what, Joel?" you ask as you pull away from him. You note a chair across from him. His backpack is sprawled over it. You carefully carry the backpack and place it closer to him. To show him that you are not something to be scared of. You then turn to sit in the chair. Your legs spread open as you bite your lip. Your eyes rake over the vulnerable man in front of you.

Joel watches you. He takes in shaky breaths. It is almost as though he is more nervous, now that he understands your intent. "Don't stop on my accord," you say as you gesture towards him. You slowly cross your leg over the other, batting him off with your eye lashes. You gently laugh as you watch him sit still, uncomfortable. "Oh, I get it," you murmur with a nod. "You need help." You watch your shoulder as you slowly push your spaghetti strap off it. You do the same with the other side. When you look back at him, a smirk is shown across your face.

His eyes are darker than normal. He still holds the pillow firmly against the skin between his legs. "Don't stop, Miller," you whisper as you slowly pull your shirt up. You expose your breasts to the cool air. Your nipples immediately harden. He involuntarily bites his lip as his eyes grow full of wonder. With that, he gradually pulls the cover off and shows his enormous cock. You start salivating. Fuck, you knew it would be big.

Joel's thumb starts to move slowly up and down his shaft. His eyes now fully on you. No pulling away this time. Pleasure fills your chest as you raise your chin and open your mouth. You lick your lips, hell-bent on tasting him. He starts to smile between soft moans. His rubbing becoming quicker as your hands calmly travel up your stomach and to your tits.

His breathing shakes harder as your fingers circle your nipples. Your tongue resting gently against your bottom lip. He loves it. His moans become louder as he watches you. "Oh baby," escapes his lips as he watches your sensual movements. "The name's y/n," you whisper. You smile at the shock spreading across his face. "I want to make sure you're moaning the right girl's name this time."

"Your name's y/n," Joel mutters under his breath. His movements stop as he watches you gradually open your legs. Your shorts clearly expose your inner thighs. It shows enough to give him the slightest sneak peek. "And your name is Joel," you coo. “Does that change anything?” He scoffs. A smile spreads across his face. First time you’ve seen it and shit is it beautiful. “Not a single thing,” he mutters. “Then rub one out for me, daddy,” you whisper as your hand travels down your stomach and atop your shorts.

Joel presses his tongue against his cheek as his smile grows larger. His hand starts to rub against his hardened cock. His fingers wrapped around his girth. You bite your lip. You wish it was your hand, but you are not giving up control. “Yeah, start slow,” you murmur as you adjust in your seat. His eyes track you. His eye line at your lips, waiting for the words to just flow out.

His breathing intensifies as he drops his jaw in excitement. “Ooo, just like that,” you whisper as you try to maintain deep breaths. Your clit begins to pulsate. Begging you to jump atop of him. “What next, y/n?” he asks with a gaping mouth. He fully enunciates your name with a smirk at the end. You laugh as your brows bounce. “Hm,” you think aloud. Your finger tapping against your chin. “Have your other hand play with your balls.”

Joel’s brow raises as he’s slightly taken aback. “Don’t make me say it twice,” you playfully seethe through your teeth. He sighs with a smile as his other hand moves from atop his thigh. He cups his balls slowly. A thumb rubbing between them. You suck in a deep breath as you adjust again in your sit. You can’t get comfortable. Your body screams that the only seat you want is on his lap.

His lower jaw keeps moving as deep breaths fall from his lips. “Shit,” he breathes. His eyes close ever so slightly. “Mmm’such a good boy,” you whisper. “Let me hear you.” He gasps as the muscles in his legs begin to tighten. He lets out a low moan. One so deep your entire body shakes. You let out a hesitant breath as your hand covers your mouth. You are trying so hard to keep in control, to be the dominant one - but shit did you want him to wreck your pussy so badly.

“I know you can moan louder than that,” you murmur with a grin. Joel softly laughs and quickens his movements. His breath is fast. His eyes closed. He sits up straighter. His hand slaps against his skin. You spot precum falling from his tip. “Shit,” you mumble under your breath. His head starts to fall back. It rests against the wall. He moves faster and faster. You squeeze your thighs together, holding your breath.

“Fuck, baby,” he whines. You could just about faint. “God, you’re going to make me cum, y/n.” You dig your nails into your thighs. You want nothing more than to see this gorgeous man cum all over himself. “Cum for me, Joel,” you whisper in excitement. Your entire body feels on fire. Goosebumps travel throughout your skin. “I want your big cock deep inside me, Joel. Please cum for me,” you gripe in an innocent voice.

“Oh, fuck,” Joel moans as his brows pull together. He squeezes his eyes shut tighter than before. You hear his voice raise in pitch. Higher and higher as his body moves faster and faster. You note him thrusting into his own hand. He looks so strong. He would feel so good thrusting inside of you. Finally, his breathing fastens and he starts to moan louder than before.

“I’m cumming. I’m cumming, y/n,” he whisper yells as his body tenses up. You immediately rush in front of him. You sit on your knees as you watch the show, up close and personal. Beads of cum stream down his elongated cock as he strokes firmly. You place much effort in keeping your hands to your sides. You watch as his breaths begin to slow.

“Fuck, Joel,” you say breathless. His eyes start to open. He lets out a gentle laugh through his smiling face. You crawl between his legs. His smile quickly falling as he curiously watches you. There you sit, his softened unit before you. “Your turn to help me, Miller,” you say as you bite your lips. His smile re-emerges as his hand pushes your shoulder back towards the ground. His body slides over you until his face hovers above yours. “Yes, ma’am,” Joel whispers as he plants a kiss on your lips so hard, yet so soft, that you completely fall head over heels for the man.

note: whatcha think? joel screams sub and fuck do i love it. also episode 3?? can someone just cry with me about that real quick? shall there be a part two? 🤫

*edit: there shall be & here it is

taglist: @fan-fiction-floozy, @dirtydianaahah

reblogs are much appreciated! feel free to comment or message if you’d like to join a tag list! 🌿✨🌿

• nav • no-no plagiarism • one shot • requests open •

[y-rhywbeth2]

Lore: Gnomes #1

Link: Disclaimer regarding D&D "canon" & Index [tldr: D&D lore is a giant conflicting mess. Larian's lore is also a conflicting mess. You learn to take what you want and leave the rest]

Culture | Homelands | History | Religion ---WIP

Today we remember that the Forgotten Folk exist.

Featuring whatever scraps of their culture I could get my hands on while digging.

Including gnome and halfling solidarity; gnome weddings; birthdays; the toaster and some other stuff.

Then the three distinct groups: Svirfneblin, Forstneblin and Rock Gnomes who don't have a fancy gnomish name as of now.

-

Amongst themselves, the gnomes refer to themselves as the Doamun - roughly translated to "Us-who-endure," and their language is munthar ("us-talk"). The gnomish accent is something of a brogue; soft and quieter, described as having a humming or murmuring quality. Pronunciation is mostly flat, with a firm downward emphasis on stressed syllables.

Amongst outsiders the doamun are often referred to as "the Forgotten Folk", because history and the vast majority of non-gnomes often totally overlook their existence.

In the Realms there is a form of short-hand sign language that developed amongst workers in noisier industries to quickly communicate basic, vital information using arm and hand gestures. Gnomes and halflings have both adopted this into their everyday speech when conversing amongst themselves, and are capable of adding extra information or carrying on two conversations at once (one verbally, one by sign). The two races also have a tendency to co-opt human slang and make their own variants while living in cities, so that they can “talk in front of humans without humans knowing all that’s said.”

Gnomes deliberately keep to themselves, to avoid the violence and other trouble that often seems to plague other races' societies. Due to their lack of enmity with any particular faction, and their dedication to political neutrality, they also make useful intermediaries when there's friction.

Some call gnomes cowards, which would be incorrect - gnomes have martial traditions and the willingness to use them if they must, it's simply that gnomes as a whole have absolutely no interest in territorial borders, or having land be considered "theirs," or wielding power. These social constructs are foreign and irrelevant to them. Gnomes are largely content to live in their towns and villages hidden away from the world. Humans have begun to shake this ages-old neutrality, however, as the never-ending expansion of human settlements has begun to encroach on the peace of gnomish homes.

This desire for peace and privacy is a factor in the fact that gnomes heavily favour the school of Illusion when it comes to magic.

Their lack of interest in riches and glory means that should a gnome achieve those things, the famous adventurer can expect to return to a nonplussed community that places no value on these things and sees them as just some guy. Maybe one with a head too big for their shoulders after spending too much time with the Big Folk.

-

Tidbits of overarching gnome culture:

Gnomes have a unique form of traditional dance called "slap-dancing" - the audience forms a ring around the dancer, and both they and the dancer slap the front of their upper thighs to form a syncopated beat between the steps.

Doamun history is an oral tradition, preserved by women in the form of traditional chants.

Gnomes are the master inventors of the realms, and have invented numerous clockwork gadgets. Including a kind of clamp that works as a toaster.

A birthday is a day to reflect on one's ancestors and departed loved ones while the individual is "still here" for another year. Visiting graves and telling the departed how you're doing is a common way to celebrate. (That doesn't mean there won't be a party though.)

While not on the same level as dwarves, gnomes can definitely hold their liquor.

The Doamun and the Hin ("halflings") appear to have had significant cultural exchange;

They both have the knowledge to concoct a very powerful painkiller called meerithaele. This drug is only used in the most circumstances, when the patient is suffering extreme physical trauma, or to ease the suffering of the dying.

When a gnome would count with their hands, as humans do with their fingers, they instead count the backs of their knuckles.

Apparently the Realms has a tradition of ancient magic based on runes, and the Doamun have their own form of it, but I can't find any more details. It's an old, dying art that most people know nothing about, even amongst the gnomes themselves.

Their famous philosophers include Nith Foelkor (884-929 DR) who wrote a treatise called Yoan Drae, roughly; "The life of a gnome." He posited that the only concrete truth of existence is what one perceives and feels.

Other traditions they share with the Hin include very similar wedding ceremonies:

While there are traditions for weddings, they're not that big a deal and the partners tend to invent their own customs, or at least their own spin on tradition, unique to themselves and their relationships. There is no standard dress for weddings, and the bridal veil is not a concept in their culture.

The traditional structure is as follows:

There will be an officiant, and the vows will be said in a setting of natural beauty - such as a glade or by a stream. The officiant will begin the wedding by beginning the "calling song", which will signal the couple to step forth - if it's a m/f couple then traditionally the groom will step forth, if it's a same-gender couple then the oldest of the pair is the first to step forward. These rules are not set in stone though, and the couple may chose to mix it up. There are many traditional calling songs, which are often customised to fit the couple. Sometimes couples write their own.

Once the two are standing face-to-face you have the usual "does anybody here object?" - It is not socially acceptable to actually object, unless there are legitimate legal issues (such as if this marriage is taking place in a realm/amongst a clan that doesn't recognise polygamy.) Naturally, many romantic dramas feature the romantic lead standing up and declaring their undying love at this point, but in reality that wouldn't be acceptable behaviour.

There will be a brief sermon on love and marriage, and a varying degree of religion, depending on how religious the couple/clan is. The couple exchange speeches they've written for each other (as before, either the groom or the eldest traditionally goes first).

The couple then spit on their left palms and raise them up to hold hands as the officiant begins a lucky chant to bless their wedding. The bodily fluid is usually spit, doesn't have to be - you could use tears of joy, or blood, for example. They will then embrace, kiss and exchange tokens. These tokens can be anything, including rings, though those are not the default.

Then the reception; dancing, music, food and then the couple goes off to enjoy some private time - said private time may be anything from planting a new seed as a symbolic ritual to going on some kind of quest/adventure together.

-

According to their creation stories, the first gnomes were born when Garl Glittergold came across a cavern rich with minerals. He breathed upon them, and they opened up to reveal the first gnomes.

Forest Gnomes The forstneblin live for around 400 years. They stand at a range of 2'1" - 2'10" tall and they none ever reach 3 feet, making them the smallest of the Doamun. They are the only gnomes that live almost exclusively above ground, and according to the creation myths were born from emeralds, which are sacred to them.

Forstneblin have made no mark whatsoever upon the history books, the most they've done is shut down logging companies and other incursions in their home forests, and even then their work and settlements are so well hidden by illusion magic that nobody realises they were there in the first place. Other defences include the local fauna, as forest gnomes put their innate ability to speak with animals to good use and use them as an information network. Nature and life are sacred to the gnomes, and clerics are as likely to have injured animals brought to them for healing as villagers.

They have no quarrel with or even a mistrust of outsiders, they simply do not believe that either party has anything to interest the other, so they don't make contact. When they do approach an outsider, they'll use illusions to pass themselves off as a member of the outsider's own race. They are shy in their interactions, but pleasant enough and easy to befriend, and when it comes to outsiders they generally get along best with the races whose cultures share their love of the natural world; other gnomes, elves, and halflings. Humans, they tend to be wary of, as human industry rarely keeps the welfare of the environment in mind.

Their communities are rarely more than 100 people strong, and are sustained through foraging and a small bit of hunting. The entire hamlet is carved inside the trunk of a still-living tree, carefully constructed so that they are hidden within the boughs and almost impossible to spot. The homes are spaced out enough to afford the occupants sufficient privacy, and all sport cylindrical windows to allow plenty of light in. Each home has a passage down into the earth below the tree-hamlet, where a communal chamber has been excavated as a public space.

Forest gnomes have a great respect for their elders. The leaders of these communities are the eldest gnome in them, and they have no divisions of labour based on gender; everybody is treated the same. This leader wields no authority, they are simply afforded respect and their advice is valued on account of their long life experience.

Religion is important in forest gnome society, and clerics and druids are common. Their patron deity is Baervan Wildwanderer, who has charged them with the protection of nature. The gnomes, who love said nature dearly, are incredibly grateful to the deity for entrusting them with this.

Childhood is a time to run wild and do as you like under the careful, but unobtrusive observation of one's elders, and children usually learn the ropes of adulthood simply by observing their parents.

The age of majority in forest gnome culture is 20 years old.

As with all gnomes, forest gnomes have a love for gemstones and enjoy crafting with them. Forstneblin jewellery often features motifs depicting the beauty of the natural world.

-

Rock Gnomes Despite not having an official name, we do have the pattern for the names of gnomish subraces, and the word for "rocks." I would hazard a guess it's Cammarneblin, though obviously that's a headcanon. Rock gnomes are associated with diamonds, and favour those sacred stones in their craftswork.

Their homes tend to be underground, in "burrows." If they live in a human city, they'll usually buy a house and start extending the basement (or make one, if none is available). Human cities with a significant gnome population may end up with some kind of underground warrens populated by the gnome community.

They live for 350-500 years, and stand between 3' - 3'6" tall. Rock gnome children have hair that can be any range of colour, including the ones seen on humans, or any other colour on the light spectrum - however their hair will begin to turn white or grey once they reach adulthood. Their skin comes in any shade of brown, although they don't tan or pale.

Rock gnomes are the most commonly encountered gnomes, and the ones you'll find in human cities (although the vast majority of them have no interest in living there).

Their culture places great emphasis on the importance of the journey over the destination. It's the learning and the joy of creation that makes things like jewelling, and gem cutting, and alchemy, and magic, and inventing so wonderful, not whatever the end product is - although it's certainly nice if that product is beneficial. Life itself is one big journey, and it is to be enjoyed as much as possible. Play is just as important as work, and if those can be the same thing then that's all the better.

As with their forest cousins, children are given free reign to explore the world at their own pace. While all young rock gnomes are expected to learn basic self-defence, and a useful trade, they're also encouraged to dabble and experiment until they find something that suits them. Youths are given a long time to explore what the world has to offer, and what they want from it, and rock gnomes aren't socially considered adults until they're 40. And then there's a party.

There is always a party. Rock gnomes do not need such silly things as reasons for parties, though a flimsy excuse can probably be found somewhere, if required. Said parties are wild, out of control, and may last for tendays. Part of the reason for that is that the rest of the time is spent working for tendays on end, and after stepping away from the workbench or the mine, working out what month it is and getting the cricks out of one's neck, what one really needs is clearly to blow off some steam.

Rock gnome religious philosophy holds that life and the world at large is a puzzle, meant for solving. The greatest joy lies in the study of that puzzle and the onward march of science.

While they hold great affection for their gods, attend services regularly, and often talk about them in daily conversation, they don't tend to be religious as a culture. To a rock gnome, the gods are present and reachable everywhere and always, and specific buildings and pomp and ceremony are just toys to wave around.

Prone to inquisitiveness and a highly sociable society (overly so by some people's standards), a common trait rock gnomes are infamous for is that They. Do Not. Shut Up. Ever.

They get along best with dwarves, who share their love of craft and creation; and halflings, who they share similarities like a love of a simpler life, home and family, and a good time. The fact that the Big Folk tend to literally and figuratively look down their noses at all three of them doesn't hurt either.

They are infamously bad cooks (rock gnome cuisine is either too bland or too salty), but their alcohol is considered excellent. They also make rock candy. Between their skill as brewers, their love of fun, and the dedication gnome musicians have to their crafts, gnomes are the best guests or hosts you can have for a good time. You are, however, entirely to blame for whatever shenanigans happen if you get drunk with them.

They're also the inventors of the firearm (gunnes), and the only people who've mastered their use. It is in fact common to find a rock gnome bearing a pistol.

-

Deep Gnomes The the shortest lived of the gnomes, with an average lifespan of up to 260 years. They stand between 3' - 3'6" tall, and tend towards a scrawny frame, sometimes described as "gnarled". They look like they're made of bone and sinew, although said sinew is actually a significant amount of muscle mass and deep gnomes are heavier than they look (average; 45lbs). Their skin takes on tones of earth and rock; brown, grey or brown-grey. AMAB svirfneblin do not grow hair on their scalps, and AFAB gnomes grow stringy dark grey hair (which may be dark enough to seem black). Likewise their eyes are dark grey to black.

According to legend, the deep gnomes were born of rubies, and prize those best.

The reality of survival in the Underdark means that deep gnomes are far more reserved and practical than their cousins. Their society functions on strict male and female gender roles, with each work force answering to the King and Queen respectively. The men make up the miners and the armies, and are responsible for expanding city limits, trade, and other vocations that require leaving their carefully hidden homes. The women take on the roles of maintaining their settlement and society; the water and food, fishing and farming, city services and maintenance, crafting, raising and educating the children, etc. Women rule inside the city, and men outside of it. It is possible to find svirfneblin outside of these roles, but it is very rare.

Their governments are monarchies, with the monarchs being advised by a council of elders. The monarchs are elected from amongst the city (anybody is eligible, but status within the community plays a large part), and rule only by the consensus of their people - deep gnome communities must be able to trust each other and cooperate to survive so deep into the earth, there is no room for selfish tyrants. Everybody has their place and their role, and everybody does it so that all may live. Kings and Queens are not necessarily married, though it is possible for a married couple to both be elected or for a governing pair to get married on the job. Regardless, these are simply jobs, and no relationship between the two is inherently involved.

Despite their practicality and apparent sullenness, the deep gnomes do not lack for creativity. They love gemstones and take joy in working with them to create art as much as any gnome; it's for the sake of their craft and the gems that they came to and remain in the Underdark.

Each svirfneblin settlement is unique in its design - featuring anything from smooth rectangular cuts to undulating waves and curves in artistic places. Their cities are well fortified fortresses, built near mineral veins. Homes are carved into the walls of the cavern, consisting of a series of small rooms with windows overlooking the city. The rich gnomes live in hollowed out stalagmites. Cities are much larger than the homes of other gnomes, often hosting over a thousand residents. As light and heat could give away their location, the deep gnomes simply don't use any such thing. They navigate purely by darkvision, and their world exists only in greyscale. On that same note, sound also carries, so these civilisations tend to be eerily quiet compared to what one expects from a lived in settlement.

Deep gnomes don't bother with keeping history or tracking the passage of time. The closest they get are two holy days; the Festival of the Star in winter, and the Festival of the Ruby in summer. The festivals celebrate the svirfneblin ancestral ties to the surface world, as well as their descent into and continued survival in the Underdark.

Naturally, they don't trust their Underdark neighbours, not any outsider really. The common practice of slavery disgusts them, and they would rather not deal with any society that partakes in it. Nevertheless, they are willing to engage in careful trade when required for survival, and Underdark trade being dominated by the drow, interactions with the dark elven merchant clans are a necessary evil. Surfacers tend to assume that svirfneblin are the "evil counterparts" to surface gnomes - as duergar to dwarves, or drow to elves - and respond to them with similar hostility and violence. Even if they're not assumed to be evil, deep gnomes are so used to being on guard for danger from strangers that they're sullen and suspicious of anyone they don't know, and many people write them off as rude and miserable.

Amongst themselves, deep gnomes tend to be warm and affectionate, and they're fully willing to adopt friends into this circle once they've proven safe to trust. When one of the community betrays their neighbours they will be brought before the monarch and council - whether it's the king and male advisors who presides over the proceedings, or the queen with her female advisors, depends on if the crime took place outside or inside the city. Rehabilitation of the offender is preferred, and punishments escalate in severity from shunning, to incarceration, banishment or execution. If banishment is the punishment then the exile will be armed and given supplies in the hope that they won't die. If the offender is deemed a security risk then banishment will not be considered.

Svirfneblin children are treasured and doted upon. Once they start puberty they will begin their apprenticeship, and at about 20 they will be considered an adult. There is no celebration or any note of the occasion; you know you're an adult when you graduate and start working. There is no retirement age, you work until you die. Gnomes live with their parents until they get married, at which point they'll move out.

Their lives aren't devoid of joy - the priesthoods are responsible for morale, and often declare an impromptu holiday when they feel the people need cheering up. Clerics of Segojan Earthcaller, god of the deep earth and the dead, also take on the task of caring for the elderly.

Deep gnomes tend to come across many lost, ancient magical artefacts in their excavations, and cities tend to preserve these treasures.

Their books tend to be crafted from lizard-skin and bioengineered fungi cultivated for the purpose. Svirfneblin fashion tends to sport a lot of gems and jewellery. Due to the lack of fire, they don't tend to cook. Fungi, raw fish and rothé meat all feature heavily in their diet, and most outsiders find their cuisine unbearably salty. They have two unique beverages; a unique, nameless brew made from fermented fish, and Gogondy which is a crimson wine made of... something, and apparently includes crushed rubies amongst the ingredients. Drinking it is said to induce visions, and is likely to knock you out after a few mouthfuls.

[dullgecko]

(Just read your comment and thank you so much I’m so glad your enjoying my headcanons, also I would turn anonymous off but part of me just likes being known as the anon that signs their comments xx)

To go with your goblins having their tails touched being considered a flirty/ intimate thing or just something close family and friends do;

During that bit you wrote about riz being perched on Fabian when they’re being welcomed by a hoard of goblins and growling at anyone that comes too close, what if Fabian without really thinking about it starts playing with rizs tail (the same way someone might play with a hoodie string, ya know kinda just gently twirling and flicking it around).

Riz does know that tail touching is considered an intimate thing but thinks that since Fabian is a close friend and part of his hoard the other goblins won’t have a problem with it.

Which they don’t, the only thing is the way Fabian is touching his tail is basically the goblin equivalent to hardcore flirting. Combine this with the fact that riz is currently sitting on Fabian, his reaction to the other teen goblins flirting, his lack of reaction to Fabian’s ‘flirting’ and the entire hoard is now convinced Fabian and riz are definitely going out.

Also it’s great to think about riz being really hot by goblin standards, cause imagine your just some teen goblin and one random day a group of elders bring in this group of tall men and a random smoke show goblin you’ve never met before with exotic clothes and accent.

So of course every single teen (and some that aren’t, polygamy a thing) shoot their shot, some more aggressively than others, only to get completely rejected and later find out that oh he’s definitely dating the half elf.

Also I know you wrote about everyone having a hard time eating Goblin food, but I’m thinking since gorgug is a half orc who canonically ate raw meat as a baby he’d be fine and actually enjoy eating goblin food.

Plus since he’s so big he definitely put a lot of it away, that is to say imagine a bunch of tiny goblin grandmas being delighted by gorgug, fussing over him, continuously offering to have him try various dishes and talking about how a growing boy needs food etc. xx

(Yaaaay xx hi! hi xx!)

All of his friends will mess around with the tail tuft if they get the opportunity, which they do because he often wraps his tail around their wrists or arms to stabilize himself while perching. He doesnt even think about it when Fabian starts fiddling with it, just readjusting his position slightly and dropping his head onto the other boys hair with a huff.

They werent exactly all hanging out in private, Gorgug can barely fit through the doors of the sleeping areas let alone fit in the interior rooms (goblins like their dwellings a lot more claustrophobic than gnomes so the half-orc has no chance), so the whole party had just been hanging out in a common-area plaza inside the cave where they'd set up their camping gear.

Riz DOES however notice the sideways glances, and body language shift of a couple of the younger goblins. Ears flicking up into a curious and alert position before settling back to a more confused cant. Clearly they just comprehended SOMETHING, but he hadn't been listening all that closely to what they were talking about.

Riz wasnt all that interested anyway, since it was probably more of what he was getting bothered by while not perched on Fabians shoulder (at least three of the female teens had asked if he wanted to go back to their living quarters, and when he turned them down one of the males had fully groped him and made a lewd comment about joining him instead). He was starting to prefer the total LACK of flirting he got in Elmville at this point.

It was more fun watching a group of elderly goblins rushing backwards and forwards with various food-stuffs to Gorgug, who was very happily sorting through what they were handing him and eating most of it. Apparently they had made a bit of a game of working out what the huge, sweet, green lad (Riz was belatedly realizing that oh yeah, Gorgug WOULD be considered kindof hot by goblin standards) would and would not eat and the answer was 'almost everything as long as its not too old, but definintly not any mushrooms or berries'. Which was smart on Gorgugs part, because while he could digest the meats they were handing him Riz clocked at least four things in the 'not eat' pile that were definitly a little bit toxic to half-orcs.

At least one of the nonnas had broken off from the feeding group to come over and ask if Gorgug was single, because he was such a sweet and tall lad and her granddaughteer Skeklen was looking for a mate but definitely didnt want children so it would be a good match. Riz had thought for a moment, ears flicking as he did so, before shaking his head at her question. "No, i think he's spoken for? And before you ask i'm not sure if he's open to polyamory either."

Fabian had paused in his fiddling with Riz's tail when she came over, but since he couldnt understand anything had gone back to working the tangles out of the hair in the tuft quickly enough. Jumping a little when the elderly goblin gave him a fond pat on the knee before toddling off.

"Oh well, that's a shame. Make sure you tell your lovely elf lad here he's doing a good job of taking care of you, but if he wants the others to back off he's going to have to make a bigger show of it. I know they can be a sort of delicate folk but he needs to be more outwardly forward." She laughed, wandering back to the group of other elders to amuse herself watching Gorgug taste another goblin dish.

Riz was just very confused by that little comment, plopping his head back down as he yanked his tail out of Fabians hand. The tail-thrashing recommencing as he rotated the mystery in his mind. What the hell could she mean by 'more forward'?

[theteasnake]

Michael Myers: Yay Halloween

His favorite word is no. It was also his first word.

Was given a whiteboard to write on and was taught sign language. Refuses to do both. Just to be difficult.

Had his first kiss with Danny. Hated it. Then proceeded to stab him for it. He tried kissing with Amanda afterwards and found he still hated it. He gave her a hug as an apology.

Aroace king. Is probably fine with being in a romantic relationship, but just... doesn't care? His head is empty except for evil thoughts.

He loves juice boxes, especially apple juice. Fruit punch is a second favorite. But if it's in a box or pouch with a straw, he will chug that shit then proceed to blow up the container before sucking in the air for a good minute.

He's very protective over the people that are close to him, and that protectiveness trickles down to people that are close to his people.

He's very aggressive towards Danny, yes. But that's only because he's over heard Danny talk about how he'd thank certain killers for choking him (including Michael). If he knows Danny wouldn't be okay with it, he wouldn't be so physical (borderline abusive).

Give him a coloring book and he's tamed for a good few hours.

I find it funny that The Entity didn't mean for him to show up, she just took Laurie and he wen't "it's a two for one package deal" and just showed up. I'm also pretty sure the Entity doesn't have any control over him, he just does whatever the fuck. However, he's a polite man and follows her rules. He may be evil but he's not ill mannered.

Give this man some Mac and cheese, and not the mushy shit.

Ate a dog once. Didn't like it. 0/10, would not recommend.

He really likes Halloween, like a lot. Aside from the fact it was the day he first committed murder, he also just really likes the spooky season. The Entity gifts him pumpkins before October so he can carve them and place them around.

Has trauma with doctors. He's attempted to kill the Doctor various times because of it.

Chucky has attempted to sneak up on him to attack him. It just led to him being kicked across the room.

Michael keeps his hair short. It's a hassle to take off and put on his mask with longer hair. He once had it longer, but immediately requested it to be chopped off as soon as it got past his ears.

One of his favorite things to do is to just say no when someone asks him to do something then just do it. Danny taught him that and Amanda is not impressed, but Michael thinks it's funny.

Lets Amanda paint his nails black to match her and Danny's.

You gotta let this man watch his cartoons. Even the Entity is too scared to see what would happen if he couldn't watch his cartoons. He likes Scooby-Doo. Especially the episode with the Spooky Space Kook.

Knows how to walk in high heels. Don't ask him how he knows. He won't tell anyone. But he can.

Frequently mumbles words or phrases to purposefully trigger Danny's echolalia.

Michael: bing

Danny: bing bong

Michael: bing

Danny: bing bong

Michael: bing

Danny: bing bo-

Amanda: can you two shut the fuck up?!

Is also probably on the spectrum? I've been seeing that head canon pop up a lot as well.

He doesn't laugh or smile. Never has. Never will. At least not outwardly. Inwardly? He does it all the time.

Dino nuggets are superior than any other shape of nuggie, and he will die on that hill.

Has once spoken to the Entity. It scared the shit out of her to suddenly hear him talking to her. She swears she almost had her version of a heart attack. And he knows this. And he is amused.

Michael: boink

Danny: bonk

Michael: boink

Danny: bonk

Michael: boi-

Amanda: oh my fucking god!

He is very chaotic evil. Much more than he lets on.

Will sometimes tell jokes. With a straight face. People thinks he's not joking, but he is. Not to make them laugh, oh no, it's so he can watch their confused expressions.

"God damnit, Michael!" "Michael, no!" "Michael, stop!" Are all common phrases said by both killers and survivors.

He's not fully mute. He can talk, it's just a lot of energy and he views it as a waste of time sometimes. It could also be because of the isolation he experienced in the hospital, that he's just used to not having someone to talk to.

Any sorta of doctor? Dead on sight. Doesn't matter if you're just called a doctor cause of your degree. Slap Dr in front of your name and he's hunting you down.

Occasionally will join PH in elementary school to just sit next to each other, in silence, to space out. Both of them view it as 'hanging out' but neither have spoken a word to each other. Michael just sat next to him one day and they both just accepted it as a normal thing. Sometimes they'll turn to each other and share a grunt.

He has to be forced to bathe, otherwise he'll stay a stinky boy. He also has to be forced to change clothes and clean his janitor outfit.

When he eats, he has to sit in front of the tv. Like, crisscross apple sauce on the ground, right in front of it.

Sometimes when he has a survivor cornered, and it's just them with no one else in sight, he'll just flip them off. Cause he knows if they say something about it to everyone else, no one will believe them.

[c-kiddo]

tmn are all nd: a bunch o headcanons

(a sequel to these trans headcanons lol)

(also, warning before that this post is about neurodivergency and mental illness, so various mental illnesses will be mentioned. i dont want to single any out here, but you should probably skip this if thats something thats upsetting 2 you)

(also also, this is a infodump and not super in-depth or articulate, so sorry if i worded things wrong because i don’t mean to lol im just bad at reading things on screens so it might get jumbled. . )

beau: she’s got adhd and will hyperfocus and work All night on her theories and notes. perhaps she has audhd, has low-ish empathy and doesnt know how to regulate volume or realise her tone is usually annoyed sounding ksjnjkfs :''') also she has depression n that combined with adhd made her especially impulsive and self destructive, but she’s working on it, getting better :’) also had problems with substance abuse but the cobalt soul (dairon specifically) helped her get out of that. has cptsd because of her upbringing and abuse from her dad 

fjord: he’s got adhd too, babey!!!! also he’s got tourettes and his most common tics are: clearing his throat, a small head tilt, raising his eyebrows and grinding his teeth. he's a bit (a lot) impulsive and him and beau cant be trusted alone together they will get distracted and into trouble

yasha: she's autistic!! mostly effected by th social aspect of it.. like, talking to people is hard and she doesn’t get jokes or sayings and its all just tiring. also has p bad social anxiety. also memory loss from trauma as per canon.. struggles with when she does start to remember things but luckily has a support system so she doesnt just run off on her own like before :')  she also tends to disappear off like that due to sensory overload and just being overwhelmed in general bc of autism

caleb: i mean, he’s autistic n its basically canon. he experiences psychosis and has ptsd n depression/anxiety that has come from his trauma. he already had OCD before trauma and his obsessions revolve around hurting others A Lot, especially with fire after his trauma.. he also has dermatillomania due to ocd and anxiety. also has some sort of disordered eating in a self-punishment way.. .

veth: she has autistic-girlie-who-was-diagnosed-as-an-adult swag .. . and then the substance addiction that often comes with that i guess :''') .. also think she has body dysmorphia of course, especially during her being Nott, and some lingering things after too.. she just struggles to perceive her body for a while.. yeza rly helps ground her back to herself tho so thats nice :' ) . also she ptsd from her own murder + drowning , as per canon

molly: has npd and also he has a traumatic brain injury caused by all the things going on in his brain when his souls leave and he dies and things.. so struggles sometimes to find the right words and with memory and with mood regulation. also experiences psychosis and just, in general, strange things going on in his brain.. . also he likes sounds and textures all the time but will sacrifice th sounds for hanging out with yasha because its 110% worth it to sit with her instead ;w; they sign to eachother sometimes and have a made up sort of language

jester: she's got adhd and it means she loves having 10 conversations at once and spinning around and telling you all about her fave romance novel at lightning speed. she stims like all the time with little objects and ribbons and bells. also accidentaly yells a lot sknfsk and same as molly, likes noise n things all the time, gets kinda anxious or sad without it.. ;-; oh jester,, filling up space with noise so she doesnt have to be in the quiet..im not sure if i have any more thoughts about her rn :o

caduceus: he’s autistic (so overwhelmed by noises and too much all the time, also his empathy is fluctuating and he's not sure how to perceive it.. its confusing, he can be very empathetic and then, sometimes he's just in focus-mode and totally doesnt get at all what the vibes th other person is putting out is).. he’s got (inattentive) adhd. also depersonalisation derealisation disorder. and experiences psychosis since it was triggered by being alone in the grove so long + consuming hallucinogens a lot. he tends to just deal with it and not to tell tmn though, even though most of the time there's some little whispery noise or a fuzzy shape around, he's not scared mostly, only when he's triggered by something... also bad anxiety sometimes that he doesnt know how to deal with so he usually casts calm emotions on himself to help, or the herbs he chews (or smokes) for his joint pain help it. and also, his eating is Disorded but doesn’t quite realise (denial, ignoring it perhaps) the eating habits he has aren’t healthy,... he's just. kinda messed up still from all that time alone.. he had his own odd sometimes nonsensical reasons behind ways he treated his body and some of them stuck. also omg this section is a mile long im sorry,  but also he has dyslexia and dyspraxia and dyscalculia . .. numbers and letters and walking without bumping into stuff is tricky. also thats why his fine motor skills for writing /drawing aren't so good like in canon :-3 

ok,. thee end. good night now u_u zz

[treepan0]

some random hcs for the characters I like writing for because why not? not all of them are here, this is just four characters I had some thoughts on.

note: I'm using a fully romanized version of the spelling of Baby's name (tone indicator removed to clarify) so it's less weird, also there's a lot of rare pairs and I am unapologetic about that.

Cooler:

let's be real here there is a reason why he and Bebi hardly show romantic affection in Chaos Magic, and it's not a discomfort actually. In reality it's because this man gives me the vibes it would be slow work for him to get to that point, he grew up with a family that was actively trying to kill each other, and is written as a stoic character, he's going to take longer than Vegeta to get comfortable with that.

I don't know why, but this man gives me demisexual energy and I cannot unsee it. (don't ask where this came from, I have no clue.)

please for the love of kami someone take this man away from his desk, he desperately needs a break thank you.

completely unaware people find him attractive most of the time, too distracted by work.

learned to control the movements of his tail, so Frieza and Cold couldn't read him like an open book.

Bebi:

I have mentioned this twice, but I like combining his sub & dub portrayals, errors and all.

speaking of errors from the sub he says "Big Bang Attack" while using final flash, on purpose because he knows it annoys and confuses people.

is he bi? is he pan? is he Omni? I don't see him caring much actually. I feel like he doesn't care as much due to his ability to reproduce asexually, while he still feels the needs and urges of the body he possesses (thus the way he is, pretty much I hc it's from vegeta who I see as bi, unless it's an au, I just leave that fact intentionally vague), he's more reliant on romantic attraction if he wants anything outside of that. I see him as panromantic to clarify

if I have an excuse to give him a tail I will, GT robbed me of it so I will do it myself. it's also fun to make him emote with it in a more subtle manner, like I do for some other characters. (Cooler, Janemba and Broly to name a few, I would say Bebi & Janemba are the most open of the four though, since Broly's is hidden)

I think he should have Janemba, android 13 and Hatchiyack as a friend group, as a treat, I think they could all get along with their own individual dynamics and everything.

Bebi & 13 can roast the ever loving crap out of people, Janemba & Bebi can be relaxation buddies who talk about general stuff, and Bebi & Hatchiyack I see as almost like a sibling relationship.

Janemba:

I usually go with the buu's fury background; where he was an organised crime kingpin, before he got caught up in the soul scrubber, outside of that I take from various places. I like to hc he ended up in there, because Beerus sealed him inside, just like elder kai and the z sword.

out of boredom one day I did give him an adoptive mother, since he had no pre-existing canon family. Her name is Koall, she's a succubus who's tired out of her mind and still grieving her loss, despite the passage of time being massive for humans.

just like Bebi I also hc this man gets around at times, and most of it is because of his design. (dear goodness super Janemba's design.....)

it's a common hc that he likes jelly beans, since the spirit shields resemble jelly beans. I actually enjoy this common non serious head canon, I think it's actually cute for him to do that.

kind of claustrophobic, especially with dark environments. however he can subdue it with some sort of activity, so it's not terribly intensive. he keeps a portable console where ever he stays, mostly so he can build blanket forts for Broly.

I straight up said "I don't see why he and kid Buu can't learn sign language, especially since dragon ball has a universal language." so they either use their native tongue, or use sign language. most of the time however they're guilty of saying stuff behind peoples backs in said native language, Cell & Koall are the only ones able to catch them.

has definitely tried to teach some poor unsuspecting soul, to swear in his native language because he thinks it's funny. think of someone teaching a baby swears, it's pretty much the same effect for him considering his age.

complete opposite of how I see Cooler with affection, he's just a tease. this man will smooch Broly in public an the only one who can stop him, is Broly himself and no one else.

DBZ Broly:

doesn't like his neck being touched in general, Janemba completely respects this and has adjusted to such.

when he's in base for an extended period of time by choice for the first time since he was a kid, he ended up being gifted a green rabbit plush from a friend, her name is Mint and she gives him comfort.

I chose a rabbit because I felt like he could empathise with them in general, he grew up in an environment where he had to ensure his own survival, just like rabbits have to since they're at the bottom of the food chain. (nothing to do with the symbolism connected with them)

he won't openly admit it, but he likes head scratches and pats. like almost anyone could touch his head for whatever reason, and he will expect either scratches or pats.

that red fabric around his waist is the only thing keeping people from seeing everything he feels, since he never learned to clasp it like most, nor did he learn to control the movements like I hc Cooler did.

finds small spaces comforting, since the pod trips would be what little time he had away from his father, outside of being dismissed or after Paragus' death.

I feel like after a long extended period of remaining in base, he develops likes and dislikes after time here's just a few I thought of: he likes rock and metal music, he dislikes the taste of coffee, he likes relaxing scents (i.e lavender and chamomile), he dislikes white chocolate. I have my reasonings for both of those likes.

most of the time he'll ask Janemba if he wants certain affections, he's too shy and ashamed to ask anything nsfw though. not that it hasn't stopped Janemba from coaxing him into the baby steps past that, so poor man doesn't make himself suffer in silence.

it's actually been a team effort to help him get to this point, with all sorts of people teaching him proper life skills, not that he's learned to calm.

[lumiereandcogsworth]

okay I know it’s technically weeks away BUT valentine’s day has been in my mind and I’m curious how Adam and Belle celebrate 👁️ (did this holiday exist back then? I have no clue)

LOVELY okay so every valentine’s day since i’ve been writing for these two yahoos, i just generally assume they go all out for the day. adam’s love language is gift giving so whether it’s in canon or modern au, you know that guy is getting belle a million gifts and they’re going to fancy dining establishments and seeing a show and all that good stuff. but your question made me want to dig in and actually look into the history of valentine’s day, SO I DID THAT!!

as i suspected, it is super super old. the oldest story is in 270 AD, when the roman empire had been at war for some time. apparently the soldiers were tired of fighting and wanted to marry their sweethearts and settle down with families. but emperor claude ii was like uhhhmmm No. so he made marriage briefly illegal?? but there was a priest called valentine who was still secretly performing weddings, defying the law for love!!! but emperor claude ii found out and threw him in jail. BUT THEN valentine fell in love with the daughter of his prison guard!!! and supposedly, according to the legend, right before his execution, ON FEBRUARY 14th, he left a heart-shaped letter to the daughter and signed it “from your valentine.”

AND THAT IS SOOOOO ROMANTIC HELLO!!!!! defied the law AND died for love. A KING!!

valentine was declared a saint by pope gelase i in the 5th century, after the collapse of the roman empire.

the holiday didn’t become a thing until the middle ages, when the catholic church was trying to fight a pagan holiday for the roman god luperculus that was celebrated feb 13-15. the church was afraid of losing their power amidst europe so the pope made feb 14 st. valentine’s day to honor the guy who sacrificed his life for love.

there is ALSO a story specific to france, that in 1415, the duke of orléans was captured and taken prisoner in london and while he was there he was apparently writing love letters to his wife in france. and i guess there was one (or multiple?) specifically dated for valentine’s day, so it’s considered some of the first Valentine’s Day Letters™️ in france. because before that, in france, letters weren’t really exchanged on the day, it was more a social thing, like a singles mixer in the streets. single people go out and try to pair up. and anyone who is bitter can have a little bonfire and burn images of their exes. but that got out of hand quickly and the government banned that. hence the letter writing became more common.

and this is my own speculation but i would assume that gift giving only took place amongst the upper class at first, and then eventually the trend caught up in varying levels for everyone to the point that we’re at today! where a gift for your beloved on the day is quite common 💝

but anyway there’s your little history lesson!!!!!! was fun to flex my historian muscles thank you 🤓🤓🤓

to answer your question, basically, adam spoils the heck out of his wife and belle lets it happen because she’s as head over heels for her husband as he is for her. in canon they’re probably always in paris. they save their bigger trips for their anniversary and also they just travel a lot in general for king & queen reasons. paris is their home away from home ❤️ they probably stay for nearly a week, (this may vary depending on the ages of their kiddos, of course, they don’t like to leave their Babies for too long 🥺), go to a couple different shows, opera, theater, dance, etc. go for horseback rides, go to a ball (i’m debating if they put on a valentine’s day ball or if they attend one already happening. it’s super likely that adam wants to host it though because he loves hosting. But i could also just see a ball already taking place since it is a Known Holiday. but EITHER WAY THEY’RE DANCING!), and yeah just in general they’re being super in love and gross. i enjoy thinking about this day for them in modern au too, just because it’s a tad easier for my mind to picture, but yeah it’s definitely a holiday they love. they love a day dedicated to love ❤️

also i wrote this last year, it’s short and QUITE lovey dovey, Of Course.

[foxbullfrog]

oh the post is up now! it kinda turned into pointing out how a bunch of the assumptions of the “inherent” motives of beatrice’s parents could be false, and/or not cut & dry, i.e people taking beatrice’s parents being stated to care about appearances as being inherently negative and that they must only care about beatrice only for how she reflects on their appearance

https://www.tumblr.com/ftm-viktor-hargreeves/712137453619838976/i-feel-like-a-lot-of-how-beatrices-parents-are

and like yeah!!! anytime anyone makes any of the ocs american i’m just like 😭😭😭 what on earth did they ever do to deserve this insult

and w ava, silva is literally the most common Portuguese surname and alba is portugese, (also iirc simon said he hced ava as being from canada) so why on earth. english is the “universal language” for better or for worse, american dominates everywhere, and we know ava watched a lot of tv in the orphanage, which there was probably a lot of american media on, so it makes sense that she has an american accent while not being an american,

and yeah!! people, do not account for familial and/or cultural religion enough, especially cultural religion, and white americans are particularly guilty of this (which is ironic given they’re one of the biggest ones who spread that stuff everywhere but i digress) and the american centrism reeks when like, reading a wn fic set in spain and for some reason so many times all of the characters are atheists for some reason??? regardless of if they’re one of the more gen devout believers in the show or if it makes sense for them or whatnot, when spain is like one of the most culturally catholic places ever 😭

like i’m from the philippines which was colonized by spain, and it’s very culturally catholic, like everyone and their mom will do the sign of the cross and pray and go through a lot of the motions, ir regardless of how much they actually believe in it, and from what i’ve heard and learned, spain is very similar in this aspect so, yeah, why all the atheists in these fics lmao

and if the reason is “because they’re queer”.. well hate to break it to you but queer people of all religions exist and being like “religion & queerness can’t co exist” is kinda lowkey culturally western too, just take a look at many cultures had what we’d consider trans & genderqueer people as spiritual leaders or special in some way spiritually or something

apologies for going on a bit of a tangent in your inbox, whoops, i just see a lot of potential in warrior nun for interesting & nuanced explorations of race, nationality, religion & disability and how they can overlap and/or impact someone’s life esp given how canonically (relatively) diverse the wn characters are so it’s :/ when so much stuff just seems to be entirely blacj & white, western pov of stuff

don't apologise I love your pov!!

I really like the point you made about queerness and religion and the way queer people in certain nations interact with religion because I honestly feel like it's overlooked how ingrained culturally religion can be for queer individuals even if they're no longer religious. especially for a nation like Spain where its heavily homogenously a particular religion. like I dont engage with the church anymore but the traditions don't just go away i still celebrate the feast days and wear my st christopher and use the sign on the cross/religious language in my everyday life bc its culturally and socially ingrained, it doesn't mean I agree with the church's teachings or even that I'm a believer.

its funny. despite sharing the same language i feel like america and the uk are such stark opposities on this point. the US has genuine separation of church and state but a very high percentage of the population identify as religious. whereas britain is one of the most atheistic nations in europe but our head of state is also the head of the church and state run schools have kids singing hymns and our national anthem references God. I can still casually call myself Catholic (even if I often qualify it with 'non practicing') because people here likely won't even assume it means I'm religious. its a cultural marker. so I can't believe there's that many people walking around Spain flat-out calling themselves athiests when catholicism defines so much of the cultural make-up of the nation. but I could be wrong! I've spent a very limited amount of time there.

anyway your last paragraph is just *chefs kiss* and it sums my own thoughts on the matter up perfectly so ty

[lulue-xie]

I write something !

unquired past prideshipping / violetshipping

Post-canon / post DSOD

please note : english is not my native language, i didn’t write outside of RP since a really long time and never directly in english + i have dyslexia so, it not strange for me to forget how to write stuffs correctly, be indulgent and correct me kindly

Have a good read !

While Seto continue to be a good CEO for Kaibacorp, Jounouchi start his dream to be a pro duelist, that how they start to hang together more frequently, they have the same place to work, the same subject in head, the same event to go.

Their story start out of nowhere, it’s not like they were know to be in good term, always going to find bugs in other hair but time pass like a rocket after their graduation and help to ease the tensions.

Events that speak about duel monster but also money, where you get bored easily wearing your best clothes, start to drink a glass to much and to speak with your old classmate and rival just to realise how much you have in common, how much you love his humor finally and maybe the end of the day what not so bad and it will be the start of something new for both of you.

Jounouchi didn’t believe it will be almost 3 years since he is in couple with Seto and it’s been a hell of a roller coaster, at first because they have to ajust to each others, then because they have obligations and travel a lot, reducing their time together.

He discover multiple faces of his boyfriend during those years but one in particular always worry him when he was so far away, that part of Kaiba that was so obsess about things and paralysis him into the past, it was hard to pass by something, to not think about it.

Kaiba was so obsess about winning to the pharaoh in the past, he didn’t feel like Atem acknowledge him like he wanted, it’s almost make him crazy just to think about it, it make him construct a whole system to go in the after life, he didn’t even remember how he come back in the real world but that was the end, that was when he finally decide to turn the page about him, he understand now that his love was to much for himself and the both of them maybe, since Atem didn’t even look at him this way but something, something when he was alone at night in their house, the one he choose with Jounouchi, he think about it, he think about all the time he had and lost in this story and it make him depressed and lost in his own head.

But Jounouchi always come back with the sun, he know how to keep him outside of his own head, that what he loved the most about him, always bright and ready to bring positivity into his live, after all this time he know he can be loved at the end of the day.

***

He just come back from an other travel, get in America to play in championship for two weeks and have Isono to pick him up at the airport, the flight always wash him off but what he wanted to most was to see Kaiba’s face before to take a good shower and sleeping in his arms.

He turn the light on and can see Kaiba’s back on the couch, it was a bad sign to see, surely the loneliness start to eat him up again.

“hey, what happen ?” he say while closing the front door, manifesting his presence, standing in the entry, he can see Kaiba in the livingroom looking at him over his shoulder, even with the low light he can see shiny spots on his cheeks where the tears was not so long ago.

“Kat i just” closing his eyes one second to no break down again “you know, thinking about him” admitted it in a tiny voice before putting down his head

A softly “oh” emanate of him and he took off this shoes, let hi bag lie on the floor, before crossing the entry way to sit next to Kaiba, putting this arm around his shoulders and he lift his head with a soft hand “that ok Seto, we all miss him”

“yeah but” he don’t look Jounouchi in the eyes, too raw, too ashamed to always go back at the same place in his brain “i loved him so much and i hate the fact he still haunt me when i have you” he put his hand over his face in despair, just wanted to stop, stop all of it, stop to think, then strong arms encercle him and he feel the warm of Jounouchi body, listening to his heart make him feel instantly better

“shh ok, you have just a rough time here, time to think about other stuffs” Jounouchi start to play in his hair and they just stay like this for a moment, it could be a minute, a hour, more important is to be together again, far way from his spiraling mind, Jounouchi stop to take his hand and start to kiss his no-so-wet-anymore cheek “and you know, it's not because you loved him back, that you don't love me as much today” he give him is big sunny smile, the one that can melt any ice and Kaiba manage to give him a little smile back, feeling a lot better.

“Let’s stop that “ Kaiba say after some silence

“stop what ?” 

“To travel i mean”

“oh yeah” say Jounouchi in a little sigh, “that a good idea, i m tired anyway and want to be home with you” finally he get his welcome home kiss.

[discombobulatedshoe]

the biggest thing for me is the care factor. like the part where the book gives you a reason to care about the characters and what happens to them. in a fic, the care factor is in-built because other fans are coming to fic specifically because they already care very much. too often in fic-to-romance novel adaptations they don't spend enough time up front giving the reader a reason to care.

i think this is also partly a contributing factor to the jump cut effect. because it's in those moments between major events that you can put subtleties and nuance and quieter emotional beats that endear the characters and their relationship to the reader. (in fact, it's frequently these very moments that can spin off entire ships within fandoms). when we get to the big moments of a book, we should be going in to them already caring about the outcome of these major turning points. that's what gives those moments stakes. when you skip the care factor, these important moments feel soulless.

basically the affective reading experience of fic versus novels is just totally different. and i don't think publishers, authors and editors take that into account enough when turning a fic in to a traditionally published novel.

a fic is more like a continuation of a larger narrative -- or rather a continuation of a conversation about a larger narrative. because often fic is interacting with the discourses and culture of the fandom surrounding the source material, sometimes even more so than the source material itself. fic is inherently born out of fan communities, and the authorship and readership speak a common language with common references that are often only intelligible because of that shared community. not even just fandom-specific references like knowing popular head canons and characterisations, but also understandings of fic structures and archetypes and tropes (think coffee shop AUs, 5+1 fics, fix-it fics &c.) add to that AO3's tagging system and readers of fanfic actually go into the fic with a lot of established knowledge before they even get to the fic summary let alone the fic itself.

there's a lot of crossover with the romance genre (specifically around tropes) but it's still a totally different medium and community. part of the promise of a (good) romance novel, is that the author will give you a couple you care about and can root for, will craft a relationship journey with ups and downs that keeps you hooked, and will finally resolve the tension with a happy ending. but outside of that general promise, the specifics of setting implied by the subgenre (sci-fi, western, historical etc.), and whatever tropes are mentioned in the blurb and the marketing -- novel readers are going in with relatively little information about the story, characters and world. all of that has to be established in the text itself -- and frequently, in fic-to-novel adaptations, just isn't.

this is fix is much more involved than just Ctrl+F find and replacing all the character names, so it's probably why it's not done as much. especially if the publishers' perception of fic-to-novel adaptations when they sign them is that they're a fast and easy turn-around. they're very deeply not, or at least they shouldn't be if you want to do them well.

this comment on that vulture article about the "fanfic-to-romance novel pipeline" is very interesting and not something i've seen articulated...much to think about...

[notnctu]

forever | kim doyoung

❀ slytherin!doyoung x hufflepuff!femreader ❀ genre - slow burn, angst, fluff ❀ details - hogwarts!au, exes to lovers!au, ft. boyfriend!jaehyun ❀ word count - 8.4k ❀ warnings - explicit language, small mention of violence and injury ❀ synopsis - in which an ambitious slytherin and a loyal hufflepuff find their way back to a forever love.

❝ I'll love you forever, Doyoung.❞

❝ You will?❞

❝ Yes, that’s the problem.❞ ❀ a/n - here is PART 2 to PUSH & PULL. This is also written in part of @danishmiilk​​’s OF WITHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY COLLAB. you can read it as a stand alone fic since p&p has smut, i wrote it with intentions of a new story but with the same relationship and characterization. if anything, reading the other parts just gives a little more background to the relationship. Marking and some details are not canon to HP! I focused a lot less on the competition and more on the relationship.

Seasons change, and along came an end that you had dreaded. Your relationship with Doyoung may have lasted through its trials, but it’s hanging by a thread and every loose end.

Through all the misfortune, your etched Patronuses have slowly begun to lose their light and are practically invisible. It feels out of your control, every time you look into the mirrors, you wished that your eyes deceived you. You wished that it was a curse upon your reflection because there was no possibility that you could ever fall out of love for your Slytherin Boy.

But it happened. You and Doyoung meet your pitiful breakup. The displayed love mark that was supposed to last forever faded into nothingness. 

Doyoung sits at the edge of his neatly made bed, with his head in his hands. He refuses to look you in the face, knowing that every spoken word will only make the hurt show too evidently. “I think we deserve different people.” The worst thing Doyoung has ever encountered is a sad Hufflepuff and he wonders how long he’s been ignoring your signs. 

To simply put, you lost your light and joy. Every source of the sun seeped from your skin and you walked in the halls with the most beautiful bright glow. Doyoung was never able to look away, you were the light he was attracted to. So when did it all go wrong? 

While you reassured him many times that public affection and attention was not needed, you couldn’t help but regret your words of comfort. Doyoung remained rather cold in the public halls. Every public moment together felt wrong, as if he was always on the lookout for spectators. He wouldn’t hold your hand and though his acknowledgement of your existence was a bit more improved, it was still hard to date him when he could only smile at you in the halls.

As a true-blood Slytherin, Doyoung was not raised to be openly affectionate to others. Through strict parenting and a hostile family environment, he couldn’t learn an ounce of how to love someone properly. He wanted so badly to change, but he couldn’t. The thought of that alone caused him to feel all the worst feelings. Every negative thought muddled his brain, he felt insufficient and lost every ambition to care. 

“Different people?” There is an edge to his voice and he stares at the wooden ground below.

There has been a small gut feeling that festered in the midst of your relationship. Before Doyoung’s confession, you were convinced that this sheltered Slytherin boy would prefer someone from his own house, someone with commonality. When things began to go array, that feeling seemed to solidify unhealthily in your heart.

You started to notice his confidence when speaking to other Slytherin girls. Through lighthearted bickering, a slight sense of competition and comradery, he seemed so comfortable with them. 

“That’s correct. Maybe we can’t give each other what we need.” Your voice lost its song, like a dagger that pierces through his heart. 

He hates to admit it. He hates this throbbing pain in his chest, it’s worse than any jinx or spell. He’d rather hit the brick wall at the 9 and three quarters platform than to experience this pathetic heartbreak. 

“Fine. Take your leave, then.” He mutters, and with the flick of his finger, the door slams open. The immediate drift picks up the ends of your robe, but your focus remains on the boy that you once loved. He stays hunched in his own being, expressionless and cold. It’s as if every sweet moment with him never existed and the pain that lingers in your chest chokes you up.

“Just like that? You don’t even want to fight for us?” Every last hope diminishes. Doyoung finally looks up at you, fire in his eyes and every vein in his neck protruding. 

“I can’t give you what you want, so find it with someone you deserve.” The twisted words leave a bad taste in your mouth. Doyoung may seem calm and unwavering on the outside, but his heart has broken into unfixable pieces.

With a puff of your chest, you storm out of his room and never look back. Every voice in your head, even the ghosts that linger the stairs, is telling you to turn around and to fight for him. But you fight to smile on your way out, holding back every tear that will drown you for the rest of your days.

As days turn into months, Doyoung can’t seem to shake you off of his mind. He tried to sleep around, tried to see other people like you had suggested, tried to even date someone for a hot second. In the end, he is alone and rotting in the most horrible stench of competition and jealousy. 

It might’ve only been a month after the breakup that Doyoung spots the worst sight upon his entire years of being alive --- you being paraded in the arms of a Gryffindor right in the center of the Great Halls. Under the floating candles and in the midst of the chaotic crowd of wizards and witches, he sees the direct crowd that has gathered around you and Jaehyun. The most beautiful smile appears on your face as you’re linked arm in arm with the Captain of the Quidditch team and for a moment, Doyoung is lost in you. 

Nonetheless, he is brought back into his reality when Jaehyun turns his head and their eyes meet. The single smirk on the dimpled boy’s lips is enough to make Doyoung’s fist clench around his wand. But you wouldn’t want him to hurt Jaehyun. You wouldn’t like that one bit. Doyoung exasperates a heavy sigh and blinks away from the tantalizing image of the two of you. 

The pain in his chest is enough reminder of everything he has lost. You and the chance to get you back, all slipping away at his fingertips. At this point, you don’t even acknowledge his presence at all. You haven’t spoken to him since the day you left his chambers. What is he when the friendliest person at Hogwarts ignores him? You were the one source of love that felt kind and unconditional. 

There must be a way for him to prove himself, for him to regain a sense of confidence after this miserable defeat. He needed to find himself, to better himself as a wizard and as a person. Doyoung distracted himself with his studies, missing events with friends and oftentimes skipping past the Great Hall and common room.

He roamed the library as if it was his second home. Dusty, tall shelves of heavy old scriptures and spells, he learned and studied them all. Late nights servicing the halls would be when he’d recite spells and potion mixes to practice retention. Sooner or later, Doyoung became one of the top wizards in his year. 

Then came an opportunity that Doyoung never thought of pursuing. This is the first year of the TriWizard Competition recommencement and the first time that it became a Hogwarts exclusive event, as it shifted to one representative from each house was selected by the Goblet of Fire to participate. After the tragedy of Cedric Diggory, the competition was suspended for over two hundred years, until all the revisions of the events had been made and safety was ensured.

Doyoung, with the encouragement of his fellow posey, scribbles his name on a torn piece of paper and approaches the intimidating cup of blue heat. It seems even more deadly up close, Doyoung could barely take his eyes off of it. 

The way the paper burns into the flames astonishes the young ambitious Slytherin. His name entered the raffle successfully and while everyone cheered and clapped for his bravery, you stood nowhere near the scene to support him. That devastation is enough to drag his heart into the pit of his stomach.

Later that evening, as everyone gathers in the Great Hall for the grand selection, the blazing blue fire stands in the center with such threatening flames. When the headmaster’s voice rumbles for everyone’s attention, the selection process eagerly awaits the noble students.

Doyoung holds his breath; Are the odds against or with him? 

“For the House of Gryffindor,” The blue flames turn a ruby red, swirling into the air with gusto and spitting out a tiny paper that drifts slowly into the headmaster’s hand. “Jung Jaehyun!” 

The hall roars with celebration and loud applause for the popular boy. Doyoung watches as you get up to embrace Jaehyun, and he pulls the most hideous stunt for all to see. Jaehyun pulls you in by the waist and gives you the most saccharine kiss on the lips, fueling the fire in Doyoung’s own eyes. 

“Life has its favorites.” Yuta tsks at the sight, mumbling for only Doyoung to hear. However, Doyoung is trained on the next announcement ahead.

“For the House of Slytherin,” Doyoung feels his throat go dry, the anticipation practically killing him. He shuts his eyes and hopes on every powerful wizard that his name is called. “Kim Doyoung!”

His eyes shoot open and absolute joyful chaos erupts from the Slytherin tables. Yuta hurries him to stand on his feet, congratulating his friend for being chosen. Applause continues to fill the room and Doyoung is star struck at the wildness and dazzling attention. It’s as if the dull Great Hall exploded with gold specks of exhilaration and his heart feels full with aspiration.

“Now you have more of a reason to win.” Yuta smirks, pushing his friend to make his way toward the front of the room. For once, Doyoung soaks up the praise and excitement that bubbles for him. Nervousness, eagerness, and ambition fill his lungs as he takes his place next to Jaehyun.

Every ounce of glory is found at this very moment. All the hours sacrificed in the library, hidden between large shelves full of traditional magic, paid off. Pride circulates his veins with glee with the taste of victory right at the tip of his tongue. He feels reborn. 

“Congratulations.” Jaehyun extends his hand for Doyoung to shake, the most arrogant smirk plastered on the Gryffindor's face. “Consider this more than a competition for the TriWiz Cup.” 

“Only a Gryffindor would try to compete over love.” Doyoung rolls his eyes, but bites his cheek as he scans the large crowd for your reaction. He can’t forget that amongst the crowd, you sit gazing upon all the action as well. “But congratulations, I suppose. She settled for a cocky, over confident wizard that knows nothing about love.” 

“I guess she has a type, then? You and I don’t sound too far apart.” Jaehyun chuckles mockingly and Doyoung swallows harshly at his statement. However, Doyoung’s pride is well and revived. The sting can barely be felt in all the numbness of his heart. 

You watch Doyoung at the front of the room with a great worry settling in your chest. While you tried to seem happy like the rest of the room, there are so many concerns that drown out the applause. He’s in way over his head, you thought to yourself. 

The breakup was not easy, in fact, it was the worst thing you’ve ever experienced in your life. And you can’t even admit that you’re completely over Doyoung. Nevertheless, Jaehyun swooped in on his broom after one of his Quidditch practices quickly after it happened to lend an ear. One thing led to the next and you two made promises to each other that you wanted to see through. 

Did that stop your heart from yearning for Doyoung? Absolutely not. 

Did that stop your brain from replaying every moment you two shared? You couldn’t forget him. 

Did that stop your eyes from looking for him in the crowd? Momentarily. 

The only thing that you could stop yourself from doing was approaching him, as it came quite easily when he barely ever acknowledged you in the first place. But the silence must be broken, even briefly, as you knew deep down in your heart the one defining trait that made you a Hufflepuff to your core, was the loyalty to this man remained strong. 

As the commencement came to an end, you made your way to catch Doyoung before he left. Everything left on your chest was ready to be said until you stood face to face with the person you once loved.

Doyoung feels a light touch on his arm, spinning around to see your figure before him. His mouth opens slightly, unaware how to interpret your sudden appearance and an odd sense of resentment fuming in his chest.

“Why?” It’s all that you could say, seeing him up close again chokes you up. In the low light, you both examine each other’s tired features and every ounce of sparkling light is gone. Dark circles paint his under eyes, his cheeks look rather sullen, and the frown that pulls at his lips are details that tell you more than words can. 

Doyoung scoffs at your pitiful demeanor and he feels a bit apologetic that you can’t seem to look him in the eye. Your shoulders slump forward, fingers twisted in your palms, and averting gaze wears down your confidence. You’re almost unrecognizable. “Pardon me?” The amount of attitude that laces his words is venomous.

“Why did you enter your name? You’re going to get hurt.” You bite back the urge to explode. His sudden aloof behavior feels cold; ice against your skin causes a chill down your spine. A sense of discomfort and it just all seems so wrong, the stiff tension between the two of you is too thick to ignore.

“It’s quite humorous that you’re concerned for me rather than your attention seeking boyfriend.” He always gets the last word, a dry chuckle and he’s walking away with a darkness that surrounds him.

Doyoung should feel faltery, that you of all people are concerned for his safety and wellbeing. But he doesn’t and instead, takes your intentions as undermining his abilities as a wizard. You no longer know of his greatness and the extent of his knowledge. He wanted to change, to better himself as a wizard and he did. How easy it is for heartbreak to ignite ambition. 

However, as you watch his figure disappear in the corridors and the trail of terrible feelings that linger from him, you wonder, who has he suddenly become? 

It had been incredibly unsettling nights after you had approached him. Sleepless nights had him wondering off about how he could have handled the situation better. 

It is true, he was rather harsh due to the immediate rivalry between him and Jaehyun, your current boyfriend. Along with the sheer fact that you asked nothing more, than to question him about his decision to join the greatest competition of the century. You couldn’t even congratulate him, celebrate him. 

After all the silence, all the avoidance, your first words to him are why? So in his right, he felt anger and resentment that you barely took time to grieve over the relationship as he is. He is suffering inside over you while your new relationship is on public display. 

Nonetheless, you seemed so dull and even more drained than before. It was hard to ignore how reserved and timid you had gotten. Just how does someone who used to light up the room, heads turning at her entrance, become part of the background so easily? 

So with more thought, he wondered if you were alright. Were you getting enough sleep? Were your exams treating you well? Did you eat enough today? 

Overall, he felt apologetic at the thought of his rash responses and jealous behavior. All this fire blinded him so much to where he couldn’t see your pain right in front of him. 

Doyoung is frustrated at all his over analyzing, his annoying thoughts about you and your actions. The first task of the competition was approaching faster than ever, yet you are the only thing on his mind.

Doyoung has faced one of his greatest challenges in his whole wizard career. Task one will haunt his dreams and thinking of task two keeps him well awake. How will he possibly get any sleep during the competition? 

Task one had him thrusting between the towers of the school on a mere broomstick as dangerous dragons hunted him down. This may have been the only moment when the textbook on mythical creatures actually came into rescue. 

Doyoung knew his flying routes like the back of his hand and the magical properties of several dragons, his biggest challenge was to remember which spells combat them as he steered hundreds of meters above ground. 

Although the ends of his robe did singe from the fiery breaths, he managed to retrieve his golden egg in one successful piece. Jaehyun finished before him by a few minutes, already rubbing the fresh wound with a victory kiss and wearing you on his arm like the true prize. 

Though it stung to see your celebration for him, the cheers for Slytherin as second place distracted him from permanent agony and disappointment. It was one hurdle completed, with impeccable skill, strategy and speed. 

His next challenge is to figure out who he is going to dance with for the Yule Ball, given that the competitors open the ball with a first dance. And of course, he’d wish for no one other than you to be spinning and smiling in his arms. 

The frosted evergreen trees stand at the front of the Great Hall. Snow drifts down from the ceiling in falling white specks of glitter. It’s almost unrecognizable, how astonishingly well decorated it is for the Yule Ball.

Intricate glass carved sculptures sit beautifully as center pieces on large clear round tables. Dazzling floating icicles frame the tips of the front mantle, replacing the usual floating candles that lit the room. Winter graces every corner of the room in the most elegant way, just breathtaking at how bright and white the atmosphere has become. 

Doyoung refused to look your way the entire night, knowing very well you’re incomparable to the beautiful decorations. You have always been the centerpiece, without even trying. Effortlessly breathtaking, and that is the sole reason he avoided every possible glance on the dance floor during the tournament champions’ first dance. In his mind, you’re dancing with him and no one else in the room was important enough to take that moment away from him. 

Despite every effort, he still sees you in the midst of all the chaos. Doyoung chokes up at the sight of you. You sit alone, in a ballgown made for the grandest witches and with lipstick that paints your lips an eye catching ruby red. Your hair is nicely made to frame your features and there is a soft glow that kisses your skin.

Everything about you just makes his knees weak and heart racing, enough to make his throat close. Some passing peers may have noticed tiny stars in his pupils, but they must understand that the pure feeling that comes from looking at you is more than he can explain. 

And you look nothing like how you did nights ago in the dark hall outside the Great Hall. Whatever agony that had painted your face was now washed away. Your spark resumes for this one evening, and Doyoung can’t look away any longer.

He swallows harshly, you look too beautiful to be left alone. Doyoung scans the room for Jaehyun, who cluelessly chuckles with his huddled group of friends at some other corner of the room. A fire grows within the pit of his stomach and he is confused at the passionate feelings that hit him all at once. 

Anger, envy, confusion. Jaehyun is such a fool to leave you sitting alone. Jaehyun is such a fool. Doyoung notices the twiddling of your thumbs and the most evident pout on your glimmering face. 

Doyoung doesn’t know what compels him to walk toward you. Could it be the sudden change in song? The melody and his heart pulls toward you unknowingly. He swore that he wouldn’t give you one look tonight, and now he faces the consequences of your gravitational pull. He stands before you with a pounding and shy heart, doe-like eyes round in utter shock at how he managed to approach you. 

“May I have this dance?” Doyoung stammers, unsure of your reaction. He opens his palm for you to take. It has been quite some time since you two had last spoken, the bad taste of confrontation the night of the champions selection. Though Doyoung half predicted that you’d brush him away, the greatest shock and adrenaline fills his system when he feels your warmth glide into his hand. 

He takes you to the dance floor, among the few pairings that sway to the slow tempo song. Your arms wrap around his neck so naturally and his hands find their way around your waist. The close proximity feels foreign, being that it has been quite awhile since the last time you two have been intimate like this. Ever since your breakup, you two distanced yourselves so far from one another. 

The swelling of your chest cannot be ignored as Doyoung’s face is only inches away from your own. The taste of his gentle lips bursting into your foggy memory, wondering if they still tasted the same. He just looks as beautiful as ever with his suit neat on his shoulders. And his gaze upon yours is enough to cast a spell on you. 

Doyoung gives you something that Jaehyun does not. A sense of comfort, familiarity, and serenity surrounds you in Doyoung’s embrace. Every lightest touch feels right where you’d want to be. Everything with him feels right, like the missing piece of the puzzle. Doyoung feels like home. This brief moment with him is minimal, but it proves more than anything you’ve felt in the recent months of your new relationship. 

Standing so close before you may cause him to lose his wits. His chest twists in knots, the sole aching of his broken heart yearns for you so painfully. He misses you beyond any knowledge, every memory of being in love with you flashes before him so quickly, and he can’t hold onto them. Being here, dancing with you, may be one of the happiest moments he’s had in the last few months. 

“You look rather stunning tonight.” Doyoung speaks with a gentleness that reminds you of your past. All the moments of shyness, of soft compliments that were rare for him to say, every moment that caused your heart to soar. How do his words have such a strong effect on you? 

The way your heart beats for Doyoung is different. It is evidently loud, a drum in your ears that drones out anything else. It is consistently wishing to be his. You wished you were his. 

Then something clicks within you, this feeling is never going to go away. You blink up at the starry-eyed boy, and he’s like every dream come true under the winter hue. Doyoung makes you feel magic that no other wizard can. A love that is more powerful than the Amortentia. A love unlike anything you’ve ever come across. A love that will never fade, and that’s what scares you deep down inside. You are his until the day your heart decides to let go. 

Doyoung takes your silence as a form of hesitation, with fear that you’re still angry at him for participating in the competition and for his previously harsh behavior. “I apologize for my behavior in our recent encounter. Is there anything you’d like to say to me?” He asks, knowing that the song is quickly coming to an end and the scarce time is running out.

Lost in realization and contemplation, your heart speaks before you can catch your tongue, “I’ll love you forever, Doyoung.” 

His eyes widen and quite frankly, your statement causes him to stop in his movements. You two stand still in the middle of an empty dance floor, in each other’s arms and eyes locked. Doyoung feels a lump in his throat, knowing how horribly wrong he was to not chase after you the night you two broke up.

If he had his hands on the time turner, he’d use it to right all his wrongs. He could better himself all he wanted, he could study until he’s the top of the entire school, he could win the whole TriWizard Competition, but none of those will fill the empty void of his heart. That is not where his happiness can be found. His happiness is found within you. 

“You will?” He questions, his eyebrows knit together in confusion. Nonetheless, the grip on your waist tightens and he’s pulling you in closer to him. He searches for the answer in your glossy eyes, hope fueling the fire that burns inside of him. 

“Yes, that’s the problem.” You say, a heavy heart pulling a weight into the pit of your stomach. With a drop of your arms, you’re pulling away as you hear Jaehyun’s voice calling for you. He walks up to you and Doyoung with hands shoved into his pockets and a dark expression. 

Jaehyun clears his throat, “I’d like to have my girlfriend back now.” 

Before Doyoung can get another word, Jaehyun escorts you away. Just like that, he watches as you slip away from him so easily yet again. Your last look back at him seems sorrowful and longing. Doyoung can’t shake this unsettled feeling in his chest, a pain that is fueled by regret and every foolish thought. Your statement lingers in his head, you still love him. 

The freezing murky waters bite at his bare skin, Doyoung may go into shock at the temperate drop. As revealed by the golden egg from the first task, the second task entails saving something dear to them that is held by the merpeople at the bottom of the lake at Hogwarts. Finding a way to complete the task was simple, Doyoung’s mind has become a copy of the textbooks in the library.

Using a bubble-head charm, a pocket of breathable air surrounds Doyoung’s head. The charm allows him to survive underwear for the allotted time needed to finish their mission. The deeper he swims, the lack of light reaches the bottom of the lake and the moans of the merpeople grow louder. 

He can only wonder what it may be that he needs to save, perhaps his journal of mastered spells or the soft scarf you had bought him over the holidays. As he swims and swims, there is no sight of the other competitors and only dark shadows of tails and tridents. 

Doyoung has to be careful with his actions, trying to keep everything subtle when the vicious merciless merpeople circle around him. As he approaches a clear and bright opening underneath the water surface, his heart sinks to the pit of his stomach. 

Through the murky waters, he sees an image that shocks him tremendously: the four lifeless looking individuals floating by a chain attached to their ankles. He sees you, eyes closed and completely still. You are frozen, no movement, no self awareness, absolutely nothing. 

Something dear. Task two meant saving a loved one held captive by the merpeople. Doyoung has no time to ponder what spell was used on you to cause your lifeless nature or who managed to smuggle you to the bottom of this wretched lake, he needed to free the both of you in time before his own spell ran out. 

However, he stops in his tracks. Were you his to save or were you Jaehyun’s? No one else is anyone that he knows or has had more than a brief conversation with. His inner conflict causes him to hesitate, the merpeople growing notably impatient at his weary approach. 

They hold the trident against his throat, the sharp weapon threatened at the base of his neck. They are hideous creatures, with faces of mutilated fish and bodies of mermaids. He never thought that he would see one up close, truthfully, he never wished to encounter such a dangerous situation. “Make a decision or none at all.” The raspy, scratchy voice snarls at him and he gulps. An unsettling chill runs down his spine and a crippling fear grows in his throat.

He does what his heart believes is true. 

And that is saving you. 

With a zap of his wand, the chain becomes undone and your body drifts slowly in the water. He catches you, hand wrapped around your torso tightly as he swims faster toward the surface. Doyoung has no other thoughts in his mind than to get you two out of there as soon as he can, without any further thought of the repercussions of when you two reach above waters.

A complete gasp of air, you two splash above the rough currents. The spell upon you breaks, as you cough violently at the sudden volume of water that surrounds your being. You’re confused, lost, scared, so you hold onto the only warmth that you find by your side. To your surprise, Doyoung blinks at you with grave concern. 

“Are you okay?” He yells over the loud cheering of the crowds of students by the deck and on land. He is the first champion to finish the second task, with an incredible speed that is worth noting on the charts. 

Nevertheless, he does not care about that at this very moment. In this moment, he only sees you and the chilling image of you lifeless in the water below. He reads your expression, you’re frantic and latching onto him as hard as you can hold an individual. 

“I was just in the library, then… nothing. Absolute darkness and now, I’m in the middle of the lake! Cold, drenched and confused. Terrified to my wits, actually.” Your arms are wrapped around his neck lightly, face digging into his broad shoulders. “What is going on?!” 

His hand pats your back to soothe your shaky figure. The waves crash into your bodies softly, and everyone is witnessing this intimate moment of comfort. From an outsider’s perspective, you and Doyoung are afloat a bit far out past the wooden deck, in each other’s embrace and definitely in your own world to pay attention to the tournament. 

“Task two, save something dear to you at the bottom of the lake held captive by the merpeople.” He whispers against your ear and you pull away to examine his face. He can’t be serious. 

But his expression remains stone, droplets line his pale skin and his wet hair pushed out of his eyes. You could kiss him right then and there. Because your heart swells so hard that it feels suffocating, it rubs painfully at your ribcage and you refuse to believe that you were his person to save. 

“Who did Jaehyun--” Doyoung cuts you off, treading the water quickly and pulling you along to hurry out of the freezing waters before you both develop hypothermia. Others help pull you out as they are quick to wrap you with a towel. 

The water drags at your clothes, pulling weight against you and the chill of the air is enough to send goosebumps to form all over your body. However, you’re not shocked by the cold. You are shocked by the sheer fact that you still are Doyoung’s important person.

You weren’t down there for Jaehyun. Whoever was menacing enough to kidnap you and cast the wicked spell chose you as leverage for Doyoung. It is a twisted form of romance, but something inside your heart continues to burst with gratitude and admiration at the man who had the courage to rescue you. 

Although you had admitted to him of your feelings the night before, you never got any response of reciprocity. But this task proves something, enough of it to show that you still meant a whole lot more to him than he can verbalize. So there may be hope. 

Doyoung hoists himself out of the water, biceps bulging and pale toned stomach dripping with streams of water. You’d do anything to be back in his arms right now. He catches your stare, breaking quickly to avoid any further embarrassment for the both of you. Nonetheless, Doyoung silently smiles to himself.

In this world, you and him continue to exist next to each other, despite every obstacle. And the thought from Yule Ball plays on a loop in his heavy mind: you still love him and he will always love you.

“Thank you.” Your small voice and fingers on the back of his hand are gentle. Doyoung feels electrified, like a joy that he has been seeking for so long and hard for finally erupted.

“You were used for my gain. Not sure if you should be thanking me. My task was to save you.” He tsked, and how you loved to hear the snarkiness in his tone. 

Your light giggle rumbles his heart, “you’re right, but I am still grateful that I was part of your winning moment.” You plant a small kiss on his cheek, and his heart beats rapidly. Please kiss him again, he begged in his thoughts. 

“Congratulations, Doyoung.” The sincerity in your voice is enough of a prize to him.

His stare lingers on your figure as you make your way back to campus to freshen up, not even a care for the man that suddenly rises from the surface of the water. Doyoung’s head snaps toward the commotion. Jaehyun is ripping through the water tirelessly, but with another girl in his arms. 

Doyoung does not recognize her, but it didn’t matter. It all came clear to him, like a foggy glass that was finally wiped clean. The realization falls upon him: Jaehyun’s heart belongs to another. 

Later on that night, Doyoung seeks to confront Jaehyun at the far end of a dim corridor. “Let’s talk.” His tone is venomous. He knows it shouldn’t bother him, but the fact that Jaehyun saved another has to have meant something. 

Jaehyun is taken aback, but does not feel threatened by the Slytherin. He leans against the cobblestone walls arrogantly, under the torch that does a poor job at illuminating the dark hallway. Hands dug deep in his pockets and his lips formed a tight line.

“We don’t have much to discuss.” Jaehyun lifts an eyebrow, trying to maintain his relaxed posture. Nonetheless, it’s obvious that he’s on edge and a bit put off by Doyoung approaching him abruptly after the second task. He knows the reason.

Doyoung rolls his eyes, “who did you save today?” He has had enough of his lame behavior. Although you are no longer his to love, you should still be showered in every form of appreciation and mutual attraction. It is just what you deserve, anything less of that is unacceptable. It makes him sick, even. Could Jaehyun have been the reason for draining your light as well?

Anyone can see it right away; the tense in Jaehyun’s jaw is evident and his stare drops to his shoes. Jaehyun does not love you. Doyoung can’t tell if he even genuinely likes you and that single thought causes his blood to boil. 

“None of your business.” Jaehyun spits back harshly, “but thanks for saving my girlfriend. Quite a show you two put on for the whole school to see.” 

Doyoung scoffs at his ridiculous remarks, “says her own boyfriend who saved someone else. I didn’t realize we were all tied up in an estranged love triangle for the whole student body to feast upon.”

“You should hear the way people talk.” Jaehyun stands straight up, chest puffed up to assert some pride that lingers within him. 

“Don’t need to. The only words that matter to me are hers.” Doyoung clears his throat and walks to close the distance between him and the faltering Gryffindor. He notices the way his eyes are frantic, worried about what Doyoung can see behind the fake façade. 

Then, Doyoung says the words that have Jaehyun in defeat. “You can’t mark her, can you?” His low voice is taunting, Doyoung’s sharp gaze looks down at the embarrassed man with a great sense of his own pride. 

Jaehyun purses his lips, contemplating how he should go about answering. If he admits it, he admits defeat. If he denies it, it only makes him look more like a fool. Doyoung holds back the growing smirk at his hesitation. 

“I don’t need a silly little mark to know that I love her.” Jaehyun circles. His shoulders drop forward, does he genuinely believe that? He has attempted on more than two occasions to mark you. 

Ever since your first encounter, Jaehyun felt something from you like no other. You understand him like no one else does. He wanted to mark you to prove to himself that his feelings were more than lust, he wanted to be in love with you. 

The mark is a tale old as time. A lover’s mark is the ultimate testament of mutual love. The appearance of your lover’s Patronus on wherever it is chosen to be marked is absolutely sacred and special to the couple. A marking makes someone untouchable and unattainable to everyone else as to why newly established couples are so eager to mark one another. 

Once marked, the individual is unable to develop feelings for another person until it naturally fades when they fall out of love. It’s so beautiful in theory, as the symbol glows with an iridescent shine whenever love is felt. However, the attempts have been left with a miserable sparkling star hue that fades after a few days. His Patronus never appears. 

“I don’t think you know what it means to be in love with her.” Doyoung pronounces boldly. His heart is caught in his throat, but he is more than certain about the next words he is about to say.

Jaehyun scoffs, rolling his eyes at the serious boy. “What does a Slytherin know about loving someone?”

“When I feel it simply by looking at her.” And that confession is stronger than any fighting words or explanation. Jaehyun blinks at Doyoung, as if he is genuinely questioning if this lovesick fool is really the same Kim Doyoung he knows. 

Doyoung does not say anything further and for a brief moment, the two tall rivals stand in contemplation and silence. The embers of the fire blaze softly in the night, crackling as it eats away at the wooden torch slowly. The howls of owls are lost in the distance and the weather is gracious tonight. 

They are both speechless, staring at the concrete floor and thinking about their own realization of their emotions. Doyoung’s heart tugs, as if admitting that he is still greatly in love with you to another person finally means that he accepts that he will never move on. Despite the hope that you still love him, there is no visible future of you two getting back together. Did you want that? He wonders. 

Jaehyun clears his throat to break the heavy silence, “In all honesty, yes. I don’t love her. I was just determined to win her over finally.” All this time, Jaehyun secretly knew why his mark never appeared. He knew that through all his flirtatious compliments and public displays of affection, he didn’t feel a single thing. All the feelings he believed he had were nonexistent after you first had rejected him.

You become a competition to Jaehyun. You, the most popularly sought out for, was a prize for any man. He didn’t actually ever know you the way Doyoung did. 

Doyoung nods knowingly. The anger that surrounds him is not visible, but it coats every part of his body. It makes him sick, regretful. Above all, he is angry that you were viewed for no more than your reputation. He knows you better than anyone, and you are the one person in this entire wicked academy that is worth getting to know. 

He begins backing away, knowing that if he stayed to listen to more of the bullshit that spewed from Jaehyun’s mouth, he wouldn’t be able to hold back from punching that snarky piece of shit. Through his quiet fuming, Doyoung’s last words are a mixture of utter disbelief and vengeance.

“Well,” he laughs dryly and bitterly. “It was quite brave of you to pursue her when she was at her most vulnerable.” Gryffindors, he’ll never grow to like them.

He isn’t sure when it all went terribly, terribly wrong. Task Three was the final task. The TriWizard Cup is placed in the center of an impressive maze that spans across the Quidditch field. Besides the goal of being the first to touch it in order to be declared the outright winner, there is no prior instruction or awareness as to what lies behind the tall grass hedges. Doyoung had to be prepared for anything that lurked in the dark.

In fact, he was more than prepared. Spells, jinxes, and giant creatures were all on the agenda and Doyoung memorized every helpful tactic the night before. What he wasn’t prepared for that ended up putting him in grave danger was the mimic of your voice between the high grassy walls. 

It could be the lack of sleep in this entire competition that causes delusions that appear in the shadows, but Doyoung swears that he heard you faintly and saw the slight outline of your figure. He called out your name, but you didn’t turn around and kept slipping away from him, pulling him further away from the TriWizard Cup. But he ran after you like a lost puppy, trying to search for you between leaves and lack of light. 

Before he could snap out of these twisted imaginations or figure out what ill witted spell this was, he was practically trampled by a giant dark creature with eight legs. It may be the most violent thing he has ever experienced, pain instantly surging throughout his arm and leg. Though he fought his hardest, Doyoung felt his breath slow and chest crumble into him.

In the midst of fighting a monstrous spider, his mind is heavy in fear. However, it was not the fear of death or elimination, but the fear that he could potentially lose you. His spells no longer held much ammo and the creature was not slowing down, Doyoung could barely breathe underneath all the pressure.

That’s when it all spiraled, Doyoung eventually lost consciousness and Jaehyun found his tattered body in the middle of a pathway. Forfeiting the championship, Jaehyun transports them both back to the entrance, where the whole school and judges awaited for the winner’s grand finish.

“Help!” Gasps from the stands, everyone falls silent at the sight of a badly injured Doyoung in Jaehyun’s arms. The teachers begin scurrying down to the scene, the headmaster also in complete dismay. 

You probably look absolutely out of your mind, as you frantically run down from the stands. There is no regard for anyone else besides Doyoung. You can feel the lump in your throat, the wounds on his skin being hard to look away from. You’re calling his name in the tense silence, panicked and complete tunnel vision. 

He hears your voice again, completely unaware of his whereabouts. He regains consciousness, seeing your beyond concerned figure pushing past professors and other gathered individuals. With the weak flick of his wand, he transports the both of you to his room. Finally some fucking privacy. 

It’s as if the TriWiz Competition no longer mattered, the sting in his abdomen and arm reminding him of the horrors from the maze. Though he left the crowd in confusion, he knew it was only a matter of time before someone came barging in and interrupting this very much needed resolve between the both of you.

“I’m sorry.” His voice is hoarse and you hover over him with the furrowed brows and an utterly confused expression on your face. You kneel beside him, picking up his head to rest on your lap. Your heart aches painfully at the sight of him so hurt, in so much pain, in such a brutal condition. 

“What the fuck are you apologizing for? Kim Doyoung, you need to go to the infirmary right this instant!” Your voice breaks in the midst of your nagging, tears lining your waterline embarrassingly. 

This was the sole reason you couldn’t happily congratulate him for being selected. This magnitude of pain is too hard to endure, you couldn’t watch the one you love risk his whole life over a meaningless cup of gold. Although you believed in him the most, you knew that there was an underlying possibility of injury and your worst nightmare came true. Your heart sank to the pit of your stomach the moment his tattered body appeared in Jaehyun’s arms.

“I should have stopped you the night you walked out. I’m sorry for letting you leave so easily.” Doyoung reaches his hand to caress your cheek. You couldn’t even feel the single tear that rolled down your complexion, his thumb wiping it away with no hesitation.

“Doyoung… it’s done and in the past.” There is a quiver in your vindication. Anyone listening in can hear the hurt in your tone and see the pain in the emptiness of your glossy eyes.

He calls your name, and something about how it rolls off of his tongue reminds you of how much you loved hearing him say it. How beautiful it sounds coming from his lips only. “What I saw in the maze made me realize that my biggest fear was losing you.” 

You can’t believe your ears at his confession. “I want to change, I don’t know how. If there was a potion to drink, I’d take it in a heartbeat for you.” He finishes, wincing at the sharp pain that sends up his leg.

“Love makes you do ridiculous and outrageous things. It makes you say foolish things.” Your empty words pelt at him, but he doesn’t give. He can’t hold back the emotions that you still make him feel. After all this time, this journey of self improvement, he still can’t be the man you wanted him to be.

“Love makes me a pathetic fool, I’ll admit it.” He carefully sits up with your aid. His face inches forward to yours, tilting his head to get a really good look at your delicate features. With eyes bored into your own, he whispers, “but there is no greater feeling in this world than to be in love with you.”

You tear away from his gaze, blinking out the tears that rimmed your eyes. Before you can stop more from spilling, you’re sobbing into your palms. “You must have lost your wits in there.” 

Doyoung frowns, holding onto your wrist loosely. His heart swells in his chest again, this familiar feeling that he loves and hates. “(Y/N), I’m sorry I failed to give you the forever I promised and it keeps me up at night wondering if there was a possibility I could have succeeded.” 

Your hands drop from your face and your eyebrows are still knitted together. “But you have! You gave me forever, Doyoung.” You yell rather loudly, all the air within your lungs escaping you in one breath.

Doyoung blinks at you quizzically, not sure what you quite mean. Your markings faded long ago and you two broke up months ago. You two had an ending, or so he thought. 

“Don’t you understand?” Your expression softens, as you prepare your next few words as carefully as he did with his. “You have always been my forever. My beating heart is yours until the day I take my very last breath.”

He gulps, but his throat remains dry. Doyoung can hear the pounding of his heart in his ears and the way his chest burns heavily at your confession. He looks at you, speechless at how you look at him with so much awe and admiration. 

Is it happiness that explodes within him? 

Doyoung watches as you slightly part your hair, your finger running across where his mark used to be. Then, he makes out the faint white ink that thinly etches your skin. He has to lean closer to make out the image, but when he does… his jaw hangs slightly open and eyes widen. A swan, his Patronus, is intricately lined in the same place as where the magical mark used to be. He couldn’t believe his eyes.

“I got it over the break in the Muggle world. It’s a permanent drawing on your skin.” You explain to the pureblood Slytherin boy, who you are so madly in love with.

Endless research was put into finding the spell that would never cause your markings to fade. In the end, there wasn’t one. Until you stumbled across an old muggle friend from your past that had drawings across their skin. There was no spell, not a single form of magic needed to be casted. Something as simple as that, your marking was finally back where it had belonged. “It doesn’t hold any magical properties to glow, but I don’t need it.” 

Your arms wrap around his neck, a feeling that you have longed for. “My heart glows for you every moment we’re together, every single thought of you that runs endlessly in my mind, every glance you make my way. That loving feeling blossoms in my chest and the glow is hardly enough of a visual to show how you make me feel.” 

He can’t hold back any longer. Your breath on his lips, the aching pain in his chest, the desire to be yours. Doyoung caves in; every part of him reaches out and pulls you into him. His lips crash into yours like they know no other. 

The taste of your lips, your skin underneath his fingertips, your scent filling his lungs. He’s so overwhelmed by a hope and love that eats away his whole existence. He wants growth, he wants to be a better version of himself for you, he wants to give you the love you deserve. 

But to his surprise, an epiphany erupts in all the craziness. It is you who gives him a love fit for champions. You are the love that will never fade. So perhaps, you’ve given him forever. 

[acourtofthought]

We know that Azriel and Gwyn are similar in some ways but opposites in others- same with him and Elain or him and Mor.

But what's the difference between the similarities and opposites that Gwyn shares with Azriel and the ones that Elain and Mor share with him? Why is Gwyn the 'better option' for Azriel?

And why would Azriel be the better option for Gwyn rather than for Elain or Mor?How do they complement each other?

(English is not my first language so sry if it's a little hard to understand. I don't even know if "complement" is the right word)

Your ask was very easy to understand so no worries there!

I don't think any character will ever be a carbon copy of another, even Rhys and Feyre had their differences. And those minor differences are not the ones to focus on. Maybe someone likes to sleep with the windows open and the other closed, maybe she likes to shop and he prefers to have someone handle it for him. So while Elain and Az, Mor and Az, and Gwyn and Az will all have some differences and some similarities, what matters most in terms of compatibility is who they are at their core. Say you're Jewish and that makes up a very large part of your identity and who you are. Then it might be important for you (when searching for a partner) to find someone who shares in your same beliefs. There's nothing wrong with someone who believes in Christianity or is Agnostic but, it's also alright that you want someone who can connect with you on a religious level. Elain craving Sunshine and needing it to thrive isn't something minimal. It's not something simplified to "she likes gardens and needs sunshine to do so". It's symbolic of the optimistic nature of Elain. That she is bothered by death (canonically), that regardless of the bad that happens around her she still wants to live in the light and focus on the positive, that she comes alive around the good energy of others. Elain being disturbed by cruelty is also not something to take lightly. Sure, none of the other characters in the IC necessarily want to engage in cruelty but they do it without much remorse. They do it because it's just their way of life and they're willing to do whatever is necessary (over and over again) to protect their people. Az hides a huge part of who he is from Elain and that's a major warning sign. Because she is under the impression he's polite and kind, soft and gentle with her. But Az is full of "icy rage", threatens to kill allies (her Mate) without blinking an eye, and talks about what she shouldn't be doing when she's not even in the room, all after it's something she said she wanted to do. Having Elain with Az is putting her in a situation where she has to give up too much of what matters to her in order to accept him. Mor is similar to Elain in a lot of ways. She's full of light and sunshine and very social and welcoming to everyone. She is a warrior when necessary but she's not quite as bloodthirsty as the others. And canonically, she is bothered by the way Az flies off the handle and is bothered by the way he pouts and becomes moody when he doesn't like herself heading into dangerous situations. Even if Mor were interested in Males to the extent that she'd want a relationship with one, I just don't see them having enough in common to have a successful long lasting one. Gwyn as an individual is more like Az even only having one book to really get a peek at her character. She's friendly but at the same time, she prefers a bit more solitude (just like Az). She has seen him slaughter people right in front of her yet she has only grown more curious about him after witnessing such a violent act. They are both competitive which sets them up for a relationship where they are always challenging one another. She's also not bothered by his slightly dismissive nature whereas someone like Elain picks up much too easily on those negative cues and would back away rather than someone like Gwyn who keeps pushing (and that's probably what Az needs to come out of his shell at times). In relationships, what doesn't always seems like a big deal at first can become a huge problem down the line. And Elain being with someone who is probably always going to be a bit moody and broody, someone who will always be slightly hot-headed and aggressive, is not the type of person that I think she'd find true happiness with. I think it would always result in her having to sacrifice the things that are most important to her.