#and that did not... stop me. but i also was fighting very hard against persistent infections bc of said tooth and working a hard job

[starlit-mansion]

i got kind of curious about why i never really got the 'sugar is too sweet now' thing (i know like. other people aren't faking it, because that would be. unhinged. but i do think it must be easier to talk about hating overly-sweet things in fucked up diet culture world than it is to be like 'yes i'm almost 35 and i can eat a few handfuls of sour punch straws or have a cupcake with 2 inches of frosting and thoroughly enjoy the experience and feel no particular unpleasant sensations at any point from mouthfeel all through digestion' to other adults, especially when, like me, you are what's known as a fatty fatty boom boom), but i don't understand scientific papers enough to figure out out. maybe it's genetic/hormonal variance? more anecdotally, maybe it's because i don't 'reset' my tolerance by cutting out sweets as a big lifestyle change?

[brokenpieces-72]

Monster!141 x jackalope/wendigo reader

The following is based on the hybrid au of @bluegiragi and includes the reader character of @diejager

TW: Mentions of trauma, some violence and mentions of death

No Going Dark

Continuation of Sizes

It goes…slow…very slow.

The Percht is a violent creature and it’s hard for you to not get defensive when it charges as soon as he shifts. Still, you do everything to show it who’s boss, and who should be in control. This does help your strength training so it isn’t a complete waste but the beast is persistent. You try to communicate with it with screeches, roars, clicking, and even cooing, but nothing seems to work. König is frustrated and keeps saying there’s no point. Nothing stops you though, and this stubbornness and determination is something Soap passed on to you. You keep going at it, getting into a fight each time, sometimes coming back to base in rougher shape than before. Hunter doesn’t bother trying to dissuade you, simply scolds you from getting into such a dangerous fight.

One day, you get lucky and the Percht doesn’t attack you. Not the first time it’s done this, as sometimes it will put you in a false sense of safety like a stalking lion waiting for the prey to make the first move before attacking. It recognizes you properly as a threat but it knows that you are not the instigator so it simply waits for you to strike first. To anyone outside the two of you it would look like animals making noises and body language at each other. You don’t share it much with others, but sometimes the wendigo is its own entity. When you shift you’re in control but sometimes it comes out as your protector. In this case, it is speaking for you.

“You…dead… “ it wasn’t a threat.

“No. I am living. The earth gives me life.”

“Monster like…me.”

“Yes. But good monster. Protect you. Protect vessel. Protect pack.” You reply.

The Percht seems to laugh.

“Don’t need pack. Need kills. Need death.”

“No. You need pack. My pack, welcomes you. You must join. Survive.”

The Percht considers it for a moment.

“What you want?”

“You join pack.” You say. “Let vessel control. You make kills.”

The Percht stares at you and considers your proposal. The wendigo waits for its response patiently, but shifts a little. The Percht gives its answer.

“Want kills…want…control…”

“Pack is home… you join.”

The wendigo moves closer until their heads are inches from each other, before it stretches its neck to press its skull against the percht’s head. The Percht is oddly calm, and both of their bodies seem to relax for a moment. The percht’s head pushes against the wendigo but doesn’t part with it. It’s an odd moment of communalism, and one you share with König and your shared other halves.

The Percht is still known to take over, but König is able to have more control than he did previously. When Price learns about this, he is admittedly impressed, and encourages the two of you to work more. The rest of the team becomes more comfortable with König and even Rudy and Gaz give him more acknowledgement. König also becomes more comfortable with you, and you learn more about each other. Horangi’s presence is still regular, but he doesn’t feel as strong of a need to keep König in check when you and Hunter are nearby.

König returns the favour of teaching him control by teaching you how to fight bigger targets like him, in human and monster form. Soap keeps an eye on you though, still a little uneasy about König and if he has work to do, Ghost keeps watch and even offers some pointers for you.

König gets more and more comfortable with you and you with him. Seeing the pup getting closer with him makes the pack a little jealous, but less tense. On missions the two of you start to be partnered up, sometimes as clean up but usually as a destructive distraction.

When he does lose control or you’re unsure you approach and will carefully place your head against his. If he backs away it means he’s not there or someone else is nearby that’s considered a threat. If he presses back you know he’s safe.

Your relationship with König is a bit odd; you tend to him like you’re older than him. While you don’t talk down to him, and he gives the orders, when it comes to the beginning or end of missions you’re right beside him ready to help, and do check-ins during ops to see if he needs support. You’re one of the few people on base he feels comfortable around.

You encourage him to get closer with other members, specifically Rudolfo and Gaz as they tend to keep closer watch on König when they’re in the same room. Relationships go both ways though, and König’s hesitation calls for a different approach. Both men are uneasy. Yes they’re all hybrids and yes König had been showing better control, but his pleasure in his work makes them apprehensive.

“You guys came looking for me when I lost control.” You say. They look at each other.

“Yes but you weren’t mindless.” Rudolfo points out.

“He’s not either.” You argue.

“But you didn’t attack anyone. And he attacked you and could’ve killed you and us.” Gaz adds on.

“The report says he’s innocent.”

The conversation is like two older siblings trying to tell their younger sibling no over and over again. Your pleading bunny eyes is making it hard for them to stay firm. The missions and ops had been going well, and König was more cautious and careful in his rampages. They’re willing to give him some lenience, and there is some sparring between the three of them, that shows his softer side.

König learns other things about you though. He takes notice of you in the rec room, curled up on a couch napping. He gets closer and notices you squirming and moaning. Without much hesitation he wakes you. It startles you a little but you’re relieved. He doesn’t ask about it and instead asks rather bashfully if you want to rest against him. You end up laying on your side against his chest while he does some reading. You start fitting again, but it’s more violent. He holds on to you before gently shaking you. When you wake you don’t have the chance the lash out, with König using his large arms to hold you against him. You’re in tears and hyperventilating though and you make small noises that makes him concerned.

He doesn’t stop you from nestling into him, keeping a gentle hold on you. His wrap around you gets a little tighter, reminding you he’s there.

“Sorry.” You say.

“Bad Dream?” He asks, rhetorically. You don’t respond, and you don’t have to, as he put a hand on your head.

“König… don’t go into the dark alone…”

He wasn’t expecting you to say something so cryptic but he doesn’t pry at its meaning.

“I won’t… not alone.” He says. You tug at his shirt and he rubs your back and plays with your hair a bit until you’re able to fall asleep again. Soap comes in and finds you two. König’s face goes a little red while Soap just looks surprised you’re able to settle so well.

“Mind if I join ya?” He asks before sitting down on the arm rest. “She sleep the ole time?”

“N-no… she did wake up. Bad dream.” König admits.

“She ask you not to go into the dark alone?” He asks, his teasing grin turning to a serious expression. König nods.

“You know what it means?”

“I had some guesses. Kid told me her parents were off their bloody nuts, abused her and even locked er up in the basement. The only food they gave her made her a wendigo.” Soap explained. König had some guesses based on your old scars but didn’t realize it had gone so far. His hold around you gets tighter and he rests his chin on you head.

“What did you tell her…when she asked you?” Soap asks curiously.

“Told her I wouldn’t go… not alone at least.” König says quietly. He gets a pat on the shoulder from Soap.

“Want me to take her to her room?” Soap offers with his hands out. König holds you in a way that says “no mine”.

“I-I’m comfortable here. Thank you sergeant.” König mutters, starting to get sleepy himself. Soap sticks around and chats quietly with König. While Soap has left you and König together on missions before there was often a lingering bit of concern, especially after the tracking incident. You’ve only asked the two of them that question, not wanting to lose anyone else.

Your trauma is your own and you don’t share it if you don’t have to. Growing up your mother was obsessive over you, thinking you were some vessel for a creature you weren’t. You were once a jackalope through and through but now…you were a monster, after she locked you up and tossed down someone who was your friend at one point. You don’t remember their name very well, but recall them calling on you and your mother turning them away. It started your small rebellious phase, wanting to try new things and live a normal life. Only after you had to consume the food did the wendigo appear, in the horrible form you lost control over. The wendigo form you preferred manifested as a protector fighting and encouraging you to eat better. You hadn’t known much about it until recently, and assumed the one that craved human flesh was the only one there was. You don’t know how everything unfolded as everything was an on and off blur. Eventually you were taken away from your home and put into the program, and given a retainer to help you with your abnormalities.

Now you were in the custody of the 141. Soap didn’t wake you to tell you about the papers.

@yourlovely-moon @kaoyamamegami @H0n3y_L3m0n @sans-chara

[obscure-imaginations]

GHOST headcanons based upon the movie! Spoilers under the cut.

Notes: I am not interested in “unmasked ghouls” so keep that out of here. I am also not comfortable with xtians and/or c*tholics interacting with ANY of my posts. I can't stop you from enjoying GHOST, but GHOST is a sacred thing to me and my spiritual practice, and for my own personal mental health, go away, please. (Very upset about the asshole who wore a cross shirt to the concert and ended up in a few shots. Disrespectfully, fuck you)

-Not a headcanon but since the “new guy” already has a mitre? I’m praying to hells below that it’s Papa III.

-The reason Aether was replaced by Phantom was because Aether broke a leg doing a stunt. He couldn't heal in time, and since he’s already an older ghoul, he decided to just retire. Dewdrop is still adjusting to the change, choosing to engage more with Rain than Phantom.

-Sunshine is half air, half fire. She plays air instruments but you can see her fire heritage ignite when the pyrotechnics go off!

-Only certain clergy members are “permitted” to see spirits. Both for the protection of the general populace and for further protection on any important magics. This generally creates the “talking to yourself” illusion amongst the high ministry.

-Adding onto that for the canon, that’s why no one sees the spirits of Papas I-III. Sister Imperator couldn’t have them going around speaking against her!

-But that spell is breaking now that Sister Imperator is down…

-”Frate Imperator” just means “Brother Imperator” in Latin. Sister gave/attempted to give Copia a demotion, as Imperators are only advisors to the Papal line.

-The dancers are all Siblings of Sin! Usually it’s just Papa and Ghouls plus a couple tech people that get to go out touring- they hire a lot of “regular” people to help, like the humans for dress and stage, to keep up appearances. They don't need crowds swarming where the ministry is, after all.

-The orchestra ghoulettes are air and quintessence ghouls. Air for the string instruments and piano, but you could also feel the power they hold. Especially the opera singer. Quintessence ghouls have dominion over spiritual magics, and they definitely used that to their advantage to create a stellar performance.

Now for the angst.

-Even though Copia is very upset with both Imperator and Nihil lying to him for all these years, as you saw, it’s hard for him to stand up to them. He’s always had that problem and it still persists in (un)death.

-The twins are humanoid demonic familiars to Nihil. When he died, they died too.

-Due to Nihil’s neglect and generally shitty Papahood, his band ghouls did not like him. Thus they didn't give a fuck when Nihil and Imperator had their little fight. They took the opportunity to snag Nihil’s cash and had a tour of the city.

-Even though Imperator was the one in dire need of medical attention, I appreciate that the ghouls ran to help Copia first. They all knew she was bad for the clergy- killing the past 3 papas will never be forgotten, no matter who’s in charge. It was only when Copia waved them away did the ghouls go to look at Imperator.

Sorry for any Imperator and Nihil fans but I just cannot stand them 😅

-As seems to be the horrible, horrible canon judging by the one little scene… Nihil has a foot fetish. 🥲

[babybemydownfall]

things that shimmer in the dark Part IV: Rhys ( Part III ) There was no point denying it so I kissed her instead, hard and demanding. I wanted her tongue on mine, her body melting, opening for me; wanted to make love to her, to feel her surrender - to us, and everything we could be.  AKA An all night love-fest in the Archeron manor. Definitely NSFW. Read on AO3 or under the cut below. (Also, I only recently realised that my avatar, which comes from a poem by Iain S Thomas and which I've had for 10+ years, is Rhysand: There you are. I've been looking for you. How spooky.)

II

By the time we retired to bed after finalising our letter to the Queens, it was gone midnight. Feyre was tense and exhausted. I’d felt her all afternoon and evening, her shield weak, her emotions pouring out across our bond. She’d been anxious and angry; frustrated and forgiving. And whenever she looked at me, she burned.

I had worn a mask all my life, ingrained in me from a young age. And I had very rarely let it slip, despite times when I’d felt overwhelming rage or fear or despair. But it turned out that the most powerful distraction of all was lust. Whenever Feyre turned her beautiful blue-grey eyes on me, I struggled to stay composed, to keep my expression neutral and my breathing even. When her awful oldest sister questioned whether she was too good for human food anymore and Feyre replied that she could eat, drink, fuck and fight even better than before, my fork clanged to my plate as everything inside me went taut with desire. I wanted her so badly, so immediately, that it took every ounce of my willpower not to grab her and winnow us straight back to my house.

And later, as we wrote and rewrote the damned letter, the four of us arguing over each word and punctuation mark, her closeness was certainly a hindrance. When she leaned in to read what I’d written, I felt her long hair brushing my neck; the curve of her breast against my arm. The scent of her skin, of her arousal, was intoxicating. I would not let Cass and Azriel suspect a thing but whenever I was sure they weren’t looking, I touched her as much as I dared - my finger brushing hers on the page; my thigh shifting on my chair so it pressed against her knee. I loved the way her body reacted: a soft, short inhale; a pulse of longing down the bond.

I found myself thinking multiple times that I was so glad we had had each other in the kitchen earlier. I couldn’t imagine how difficult the rest of the day would have been without that release. And I had meant what I’d said to her there: this thing between us was a bad idea, but I just couldn’t stop myself. I had spent the previous day avoiding her, my mind constantly churning over what I should do. Getting drunk hadn’t helped - I only ended up sad and missing her. I had barely slept afterwards, thanks to the alcohol and my racing thoughts and the memories of our first morning together which left me with a very persistent erection.

When she found me in the kitchen, I still didn’t know what the right thing to do was. But as soon as I scented her, when I saw how fucking stunning she looked and how she went slack with longing for me, I realised there was no actual choice here. I couldn’t just bare myself to her - literally and emotionally - and simply walk away. She was my mate. This was bigger than both of us: it was what the Cauldron had destined; a bond more sacred and permanent than any other. It was inescapable. Undeniable. And Feyre didn’t know the truth, but I knew she felt it too: that we were something extraordinary.

And now, finally, we were alone together once again. She hadn’t reacted when I’d said we would share a room - a room I had immediately shielded, to keep loud sounds in and bad things out. But she did turn to me in surprise when I made my own bed appear and sat down on it.

“What are you doing?”

I looked up at her, still dressed in her stunning turquoise outfit. She wore it like she belonged in the Night Court. Or perhaps it wore her. It wanted her - just as I did.

“Being on my best behaviour,” I replied evenly. “We’re in your father’s house. I didn’t know if you’d want to…”

“I’ve spent all evening trying to keep my hands off you. And now you don’t want to touch me?”

She sounded like she was annoyed with me, which made me smile. “Oh, I do want to touch you, Feyre darling.” My voice was low. “Every single inch of you.”

There was a fire crackling in the hearth across the room and it shone in her dark eyes, in the golden waves of her hair. I leaned back on my outstretched arms and her gaze travelled down my body. I was still fully dressed but she knew what lay beneath now; and if I hadn’t been wearing black, she would have been able to see my cock rise in my pants.

“The last time I was in this house,” she said quietly, “I left to run after Tamlin. To go under the mountain and save him. And yet here I am, barely any time later… with you.” She tugged at her sleeve, looking around the room. “That’s wrong, isn’t it?”

I waited until her eyes met mine again. She seemed so vulnerable, so young all of a sudden. “I don’t think it is,” I told her honestly. “I don’t think time is what matters, in our case.”

“Then what does matter?”

I held out my hand. “Come here.”

Slowly she moved towards me and took it, standing between my legs. I may as well have been kneeling before her again, such was her position of power over me right now.

“What matters, Feyre, is how you feel. What makes you happy. What helps you heal. And I think I can speak to that, because you are all those things for me. Already.”

I felt her tremble in front of me. She was scared. And I knew why - but I couldn’t hide the depth of my feelings from her. I didn’t want to.

“Why does this seem so… inevitable?” she whispered.

Because I am your mate.

I could have told her then. No doubt it would have helped ease the guilt she still carried over Tamlin, the confusion she felt over us. But this was not the place: not in the human lands, in her family home; not when there was danger out there, lurking beyond my Court’s protection. And not when it meant I would have to face her rejection - because she wasn’t ready yet. Wasn’t healed, wasn’t strong enough. And neither was I, to have her push me away.

For now I would take whatever she was willing to give - her friendship, her smiles, her body - and not think too far into the future. As she had so wisely said: we might all die soon. And I would be a fool not to enjoy every moment with her, because I had known from the second I first saw her that she was the light in my eternal darkness.

Instead of saying any of that, I lifted my hands to her hips and guided her to straddle my lap. She did so without hesitation, settling halfway along my thighs - not near enough to feel how hard I was for her. Not yet. But having her this close, all to myself behind a locked door, I felt my soul sigh.

There you are. I’ve been looking for you.

“Perhaps it is inevitable,” I said softly. “The question is, what do you want to do about it? You are in charge here. I will follow your lead.”

I had never uttered those words before, outside of battle when I fell in line behind my commander. But I trusted Feyre with everything I was. I saw her, with all her broken pieces and her courageous human heart and the magic she contained which had nothing to do with her powers. I wanted it all.

And she wanted me too. It was in her beautiful eyes; written all over her face. I couldn’t stop myself from leaning in and pressing a lingering kiss to the side of her neck. I felt her body melt in my arms, her head tilting back. My name rose from her lips to the ceiling, like a prayer.

“Rhys.”

I kissed her there again, the scent of her blood filling my senses; moved up to her ear where I breathed: “What do you want, darling?”

Her fingers slid into my hair, drawing me back so she could look at me. At the same time, I took hold of her hips and pulled her into me, connecting the heat of her core with the raging hardness of mine.

The air sparked around us and we both groaned.

“You,” Feyre murmured, her breath on my mouth, her gaze filled with nothing but lust - that most powerful of emotions, sweeping everything else aside. “I want you. All over me. All night long.”

A smile started to form on my lips but she kissed me before it got there. And from that moment on, we were lost. Our hands slipped beneath each other’s clothes onto warm, sensitive skin. I had never had the pleasure of physically undressing her before, of slowly revealing her exquisite body inch by inch. I followed the fabric of her top with my lips, from her navel to her ribcage to her bare breasts, so pert and full and ready for my attention. She moaned so headily when I circled my tongue over her nipples and I could smell her arousal as it flooded her underwear, as she ground herself against my length.

The top disappeared over her head and then we worked together to remove mine as well. As our mouths found each other again I slid my arm up along the column of her spine, my hand splayed between her shoulder blades, and drew her further into me so her bare chest pressed against mine. Her kisses were voracious, her moans constant as she rocked her hips and took her pleasure from me.

Untamed Feyre was the hottest thing I had ever encountered.

And then she suddenly pulled back to look at me, her eyes so dark with desire, her voice husky as she commanded: “Take me to bed, Rhys.”

I could not have refused her if my life depended on it.

I carried her there, drawing back the duvet and laying her down. I had already warmed the sheets and she looked surprised, grateful. But she didn’t speak - couldn’t, perhaps - as she grasped at my shoulders and pulled me onto her, reclaiming my mouth, touching every part of me within reach. I covered us again, burying down with her into the softness of the bed as we kissed on and on. I had never known how thoroughly arousing it was, to be half-bare and writhing around by the light of the fire, our sounds hushed and urgent. Despite my shield, we were both aware of my brothers just next door, of Feyre’s sisters down the hall - but that only added to the mood.

This was secret and sacred and ours.

I eventually trailed my lips down to her breasts again, and then further - kissing her centre through her trousers before kneeling between her legs and slipping them off entirely. She was wearing the same lacy white panties I’d watched her put back on in the kitchen, and they were wet through. I heard myself growl as I pulled them off too, the urge to taste her impossible to resist, but she stopped me from getting anywhere near her with her bare foot on my chest.

I stared at her, unable to fathom why she would deny me.

“I’m in charge, remember?” she said firmly. “Lie down.”

Giving up control was not natural for me - but Feyre was a goddess and I obeyed.

She made very quick work of my pants and underwear, and then slid all the way down the bed and wrapped her hot mouth around me. I had never known anything so good before: the sight of her there, the brush of her hair and her hands on my thighs and abdomen, the way she sucked and licked and bobbed up and down-

I reached for her after barely any time at all, tugging on her shoulders, groaning her name. But she ignored me and carried on. Her eyes met mine and I imprinted the image in my mind, of the lust and determination in her gaze, of my cock disappearing between her lips over and over again, her rhythm faultless, bringing me closer and closer to the edge.

“Feyre,” I gasped, “I’m-”

She scratched her fingernails all the way down my torso and I came, so hard I lost all of my senses for the longest, most ecstatic moment. I felt her fingers cover my mouth, to keep me quiet, but there was no fucking chance when her tongue was still swirling over me, when my hips were still bucking and I was still coming. It was unbearable and heavenly and I never, ever wanted it to end.

Eventually I did return to the present; felt Feyre retreat and opened my eyes to find her looking down at me with a very satisfied smirk. I was too dazed to speak, to tell her how fucking amazing she felt and what I wanted to do to her next - but it didn’t matter. She had let her fingers drift down onto my chest; I took her wrist and brought her palm back to my lips, licking the tattooed eye there in a single broad stroke. Her smirk disappeared as she felt me in her very core.

I tugged on her hips, pulling her up my body until she was kneeling over my face. She braced herself on the headboard and I inhaled her incredible scent, all her muscles trembling, her breathing shallow, ragged. And then I feasted on her, gorging myself on her softness and her taste, eating her gorgeous cunt until she was all over my face. I kneaded her ass, explored her thighs; slid two fingers inside her and fucked her like that while I sucked on her clit. She came in no time at all, with a muffled scream and a gush of wetness which I lapped up like I was dying of thirst.

When she collapsed onto me, I gently drew her back down into bed to lie by my side so we were facing one another, our limbs loosely entwined. I took half a second to clean my face with magic, but left her taste on my tongue. It would be sacrilege to erase that.

She smiled, gazing at me through heavily lidded eyes. “You are very good at that,” she said, and she shivered - an aftershock. It made my cock ache for her.

“You taste fucking divine, Feyre. I can’t get enough of you. And your mouth…” I outlined her lips with my thumb; they parted and I traced over her bottom teeth too. “So pretty, yet so wicked. I’ve never felt anything so phenomenal.”

I pressed my lower body into hers, letting her know I was ready for more. She looked straight at me and bit down on my nail, firm enough to hurt. Beneath the duvet I felt her hand wrap around my length. Flames roared to life in my blood once more and I hissed, like the wild beast I was.

“So eager,” she teased, licking the sensitive pad of my thumb.

There was no point denying it so I kissed her instead, hard and demanding. I wanted her tongue on mine, her body melting, opening for me; wanted to make love to her, to feel her surrender - to us, and everything we could be. Without thinking I reached for her down the bond, needing her closer, even though physically there was no space between us. As I felt her grip onto me, an embrace around my very soul, I rolled on top of her perfect body and thrust inside her: back where I belonged.

She cried out at being so full; hooked her legs around my waist, inviting me deeper, and I moved slowly at first, trying to be restrained until that became impossible. She felt so good, so right, that I just couldn’t contain myself. And she wanted it: I felt her desire envelop mine inside my mind, where we were intertwined; swallowed the words she gasped into my mouth - “Harder… More… Rhys! Fuck… Yes, more…”

I tilted her pelvis with my hand and reached new depths, and she broke away from my kiss to let out the most guttural sound as she clenched and shook and stretched around me. I dipped my head, sucking on her neck, her right breast, her nipple; kept rolling my hips, fucking her faster and harder than ever before. We were both grunting, moaning, sweat on our skin, her nails digging into my back - and then we were coming, together, a crescendo of movement and sound and rising, cresting pleasure that felt like it would never end.

It didn’t, for a long time. I might have drifted off to sleep briefly, for when I next opened my eyes I was lying on my front on the bed, the duvet over my lower body, feeling more relaxed than I had in decades.

I reached out for Feyre down the bond, checking she was okay; felt her in the adjoining bathroom and closed my eyes again, letting myself doze. Eventually I heard her footsteps on the carpet and then the bed shifted as she sat beside me. Her fingertips traced lightly down my spine and I groaned at how nice it felt.

“I didn’t know you had tattoos here,” she said softly. “And your wings…” She touched the strong muscles of my upper back. “I want to see you with them.”

My voice was so low it made my ribcage vibrate. “You have.”

“Naked,” she clarified.

I smiled. “One day. Not here.”

She leaned in, surrounding me with her scent, her hair; pressed gentle kisses to my ear, my cheek, the corner of my lips. I couldn’t remember the last time anyone had touched me with so much tenderness. The last time anyone had cared about me like this. It made my throat hurt.

When I finally opened my eyes her face was all I could see, so close to mine, our every breath shared. She smiled and sat back up, and that’s when I realised she was wearing my shirt. It was unbuttoned, and she was still completely naked beneath. I had never seen anything so sexy.

My emotions were forgotten in an instant.

“Feyre.”

I rose up, kneeling in front of her, taking her in.

“I was cold,” she said, a little defensive, a little surprised by the strength of my reaction.

“You look…” I reached for her, pulling her against me. I had thought I was completely sated - I was wrong. “Let me warm you up.”

This insatiable need for each other, this wild passion - it felt endless. Frenzied. We fell to the bed and she straddled my waist, discarding the shirt to the floor. As she began to kiss me all over, the small part of my brain which remained functional wondered what would happen if she ever accepted the mating bond. How we would survive.

Then it gave in as Feyre washed over me, as I let myself drown in her once again.

When she rode me she held my hands, our fingers interlaced. I could do nothing but stare at her. The way the firelight danced over the planes of her body as she moved; the flush on her skin, the dark desire pouring from her eyes. I was no painter, but she was a piece of art.

“Feyre darling,” I breathed, grazing my palms along her thighs, feeling my climax building slowly, deliciously. “Will you touch yourself for me? I want to watch you.”

Her dream of me was only a night ago - it felt like a century.

She put her fingers in my mouth and I licked them, my desire rocketing at how fearless she was, how unembarrassed. If I had thought she’d be hesitant in bed or perhaps shied by our age gap, by her relative lack of experience, I was wrong. And yet she was not a sultry, confident vixen either. I could only conclude that she really did trust me, enough to be herself, to show herself to me - to be bare in every possible way.

And that made me more hopeful for our future together than anything else we’d said or done.

Now she circled her clit, her left hand holding her breast, pinching her nipple. Her tattoos were a stunning contrast to the rest of her pale skin. When the sensations became too much, her head tilted back and her spine arched, her long messy curls almost reaching her bottom. And still I watched, my hips now thrusting of their own accord, meeting her movements. I was already at the edge; could have let myself fall at any second. But I held on, waiting for her, completely awed by how fucking incredible she was.  

If things had been different, I would have told her I loved her. The words were on the tip of my tongue, filling my mind. I let the smallest trickle of that golden feeling travel down the bond to her. Even though she didn’t know its name, I knew she liked it - saw the smile on her lips, felt her clench and tighten as I pounded into her harder, faster, as she peaked and then shattered.

It was too much. I lifted her off me, turning her onto her front, pulling up her hips. She was weak, boneless; still in the throes of her pleasure. “You have to be quiet,” I rasped and then I thrust inside her again, deeper than ever before. Her hands fisted the duvet and she bit it, her screams subdued but still there, still heavenly to hear.

“Feyre,” I groaned, the sweetest sound in the world. “Fuck, Feyre. You feel- I’m so- ”

I spilled inside her with a roar, breaking my own rule but utterly unable to care. I felt her coming too, a continuation of her last orgasm. Endless, all-consuming fulfilment.

This time we were both thoroughly done. I fell to her side, bringing her body with me so I was spooned up behind her, quickly cleaning us up with half a thought. I didn’t know if I’d ever be able to move again. I didn’t want to. I pressed my face into her neck, inhaling her, wishing I could disappear into her forever. If there was nothing else but this, I would die happy.

Our breathing gradually slowed. The fire had burned low, the moon now illuminating us through the uncovered window. I ran the fingers of my left hand along the ink on Feyre’s arm, watching as the soft blonde hairs stood on end in my wake. I knew the bond that tied us together wasn’t the bargain that had been written on her skin: it was the mating bond. That’s why we could communicate, why we could feel so much of each other. I wondered how it would change if we were ever truly mated. How much more of her I would feel, how deeply I would know her. I wanted her to be mine so badly it made my soul ache.

The bond was another secret I kept. I wasn’t sure how much longer I could hold it inside.

“What time is it?” she asked, her words merging into a yawn.

“Fuck knows.” I was tired and emotional, which always made me swear more. That and having sex with Feyre.

I pulled the covers over us and then looked outside. The air was still and crisp. There had been snowfall earlier, but it had stopped now. “Usually,” I said, voicing my thoughts aloud, “I can feel the night. The coming of the dawn. But the darkness is different on this side of the Wall. It’s not… mine.”

She turned her head towards me. The moonlight caught her eyes, making them shine. “I love your darkness,” she said quietly. “I feel it, under my skin. It soothes me. Of all the powers I was given, yours is my favourite.”

You were made for me, I wanted to tell her. Wanted to shout it, for the whole world to hear. It’s so obvious. Can’t you see?

And then she went on sleepily: “The nights feel longer here. I was born on the longest, actually. The Winter Solstice.”

I was stunned. Totally speechless. She must have mistaken my silence for fatigue, because she whispered goodnight and in less than a minute, she was asleep.

I held her, wide awake, heart hammering. I kissed the point of her ear and murmured, so softly it was almost inaudible: “You are my mate, Feyre Archeron. And I fucking love you.”

II

TBC...

[wisteria-cherry]

remus with a grumpy slytherin partner who also gives the best hugs and will fight anyone who tries to insult him??? i love the grumpy x sunshine troupe 🥹🥹

omg honey i love this so much

sunshine x grumpy is my life

also is kind of angsty i hope you don’t mind

and kind of short🥲

tw for minor cursing

“i’ll hex them so hard it goes in their asshole and out their mouth!” you bark, trying to fight against remus’ grip on your wand arm as remus’ assailants backed away. you were persistent, but remus was strong. “let me go—“

“love, it’s not worth it.”

“remus—“

“breathe.”

very reluctantly, you relax, and remus’ grip loosened. the slytherins left. you wanted to fight them, hex them, jinx them, anything. you didn’t care if you were slytherin, too. you wanted them gone, gone go they would never talk to your remus again. you wished they’d stop. stop laughing at remus, stop laughing at his blood status, everything. the rest of the marauders were plenty obnoxious. james was insufferable, sirius was a womanizer, and peter just did whatever james did. any comments towards them, you didn’t mind. but remus— remus was different. remus was gentle, remus was sweet, remus was kind and happy and different. you hated it when people didn’t see it.

remus didn’t get picked on often. after all, obnoxious as the marauders were, they were popular. an icon for anyone who didn’t like the rules, who were all for a little bit of mischief. leaders of the student body. trendsetters, if you will. you knew that remus was a gentle soul, and, annoying as they may be, you were grateful that his friends were bold, bold enough to make it known that they wouldn’t tolerate anyone winding up their moony. your moony.

just your luck that your housemates would find you with him alone.

“let’s just go.” remus began walking, his grip steady.

“i’ll make them pay next time i see them.” you grumble. “gits.”

remus lead you out of the dungeons and through one of the many corridors. he soon found a bench and sat down, releasing your wrist as he did so. you reluctantly sat down next to him.

“hate ‘em.” you grumble, slouching against the wall behind you. remus leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees.

“dove, those slytherins were just saying stupid things. it’s nothing to worry about.” remus looked at you, and your expression softened, somewhat.

“it’s not okay.” you narrow your eyes. “they were being racist assholes.”

“all they did was go about chanting ‘half blood’.” remus pointed out. “it’s true.”

“it’s not what they said, it’s the tone!” you exclaim frustratedly. “i don’t care if they’re from my house, they said it like it was derogatory— are you okay?” you stop in your tracks as you see remus duck his head, his hair hiding his expression. remus angled his head away from you.

“remus?” you asked, more gently. remus looked back up at you, and you finally got a good look at him. remus looked exhausted. bleary eyes, dark circles, slightly pale skin. his hair looked shaggy, despite remus usually doing his best to stay well-trimmed. even his hands were a little shaky.

“sorry.” remus apologized, straightening his posture, wiping his hands on his trousers. “i’m just… just tired, is all. a couple of slytherins are the least of my worries right now.”

“oh, remus…” your brow furrows worriedly. “remus, i’m sorry.” you wrap your arms around remus’ neck, pulling him into a hug. remus reciprocated, his arms looping around your middle, his forehead resting on your shoulder.

“it’s alright.” remus mumbled.

“do you want to talk about it?” you offer awkwardly. you weren’t fantastic at comforting. you were a fighter, not a lover. you’d rather duel whoever had made remus like this, teacher and student alike. but you knew that remus would rather have someone be with him.

“no.” remus exhaled, his tense shoulders slowly relaxing as he leaned into you. “just, ah, wanna stay like this.”

“i can do that.” and so you do, and you hug for a long time. you don’t complain once— in fact, you weren’t sure you could ever complain about giving remus a hug.

“alright.” remus said after a good, long while. he broke away, honey-colored eyes studying yours. “you alright?”

“i should be asking you.” you frown.

“you’re the one who’s worked up, darling.” remus pointed out, and you sigh.

“i just hate those stupid people is all.” your frown deepens.

“you’re cute when you pout.” remus gives you a smile, that small, beautiful smile that first caught your eye when you were passing him in a corridor and you nearly stopped breathing.

“i am not.”

“you are too.”

“whatever.”

“i love you.”

“… i love you too.”

[orcelito]

Hi I started playing a game and it has taken over my life

This bitch. I hadn't even heard of it before today (well, yesterday) but now it's 5 am and I've played like 12 hours straight. I've already cried to it. I'm having the time of my life and it's SO hard to drag myself away from it, oh my fucking god

LIKE

I wasn't expecting to get this invested in the characters. I'm rping in this something fierce. In the game you're following this kid from 10 to 20 years old while your community is setting up a settlement on a new planet, & all that entails. It does NOT play nice. Where I'm at, there are Six named characters who have died (bc im committed to not using guides for this first run). But that's like. The Point. It's a game about the dangers of such a place, but also the dangers of unchecked colonization, Depending on your choices. You have your childhood friends who grow and drift apart with conflicting viewpoints and everything. And it's up to you to decide how that turns out.

For me, I'm playing as a kid who wanted to be a biologist (looking up to their botanist parents), but due to the dangers of the world & the traumas that resulted, veered Hard into a more martial role. Every year since they were 10 years old, they've snuck out to fight in battles until they were finally old enough to have clearance to join them officially. They threw themself mind body and soul into exploration and resource gathering to do ANYTHING to help the needs of the colony (but even then, it wasn't enough).

And now they don't know what else to do. Traumatized, they've joined the new military bc it's the only way they can think of to have enough strength to get people to Stop Being Killed. But at the same time, they do still love nature and exploration (for the simple joy of exploration, not just resource gathering), so there's a part of them that knows This Is Wrong. But one of their childhood friends is Also throwing herself wholeheartedly into the military for very similar reasons to them (it's the loss, it's always the loss), while another friend is embracing nature wholeheartedly and protesting against the violence (& judging the first friend's choices Immensely). My character is conflicted between their wish to keep their friends and remaining family safe vs their persisting love of nature. And oh yeah, there's this new hotshot military guy that they just wanna make eat shit ALLLLLLL the time. Gotta train and be the best so that SOMEONE can show him up. They're absolutely thriving on being able to beat him in Anything martial. Which is perhaps a childish drive, but they're still only 15 where I'm at, So.

AND AT THE SAME TIME..........

They're childhood best friends with the local emo kid, who wants so badly to not be trapped here. He wants to be Free! In Nature! But he's also so very depressed For Reasons lol. So it turns into him trying to just walk out into the wilds without a care bc he doesn't care if he dies. And here's my character, falling in love with him (& he very much is with them, too) just trying to figure out what the Fuck they can do to help him. He straight up tried to run away at one point, I full on had a moment of "Oh god is this what naruto felt like when sasuke left?!?!" But he ended up caught lol. So he's still here. And still being Difficult despite my character having expressed that they care about him in a way that's Different than just friends. And so of course emo boy emotionally distances himself, bc what else would he do???? But since I'm playing a teenager and Well there's some new teens in town (one of which being the stupid military guy, who my character kinda just wants to punch). And one of them is very flirty and he invited my character to kiss over a card came, & that petty teenage soul angry about their childhood best friend/potential boyfriend being so DIFFICULT decides. Fuck it! Imma kiss him. And so they do lol.

But it didn't make the feelings go away and emo boy doesn't Know and if he did. Well. It's not like they're dating. Any of them, really. It was a stupid kiss between stupid teenagers, so it literally doesn't matter, but they kinda Do feel a little bit guilty about it.

But in the end, they're throwing themselves into their training with all their might bc the next attack is approaching and the last one went SO MONUMENTALLY WRONG that they just HAVE to be at the absolute strongest they can be. None of this matters in the face of their loved ones being at risk. They're 15 years old, they've watched so many people die, and they're not going to let stupid teenage drama get in the way of them protecting the people they DO have left! Including said stupid teenage boy, even if he is being dumb about it.

I'd say I'm like halfway through the game by this point. So very excited to see where it ends up. It's so fucking GOOOOOOOOD and yes it IS very gay and trans. You can change ur character's presentation and pronouns at any point. Effectively genderfluid, tho I'm keeping it on the nonbinary option of course. Also none of this teen drama even matters bc u can be poly in this game lol (which I am SO excited about) but it's fun rping a teen as a teen would be.

I haven't even met the immortal goth yet. Good chance I'll end up dating the goth And the emo. Should they both be open to the idea lol. And wouldn't that be just like me to do

[sburbian-sage]

A

Ah, no., i

it's just my quirk., t

though you were it seems I can say you were close nonetheless., a

although I cannot explicitly confirm if it was a boss that did it, or if there is in fact a censoring effect on me, but if there were, how might one fight such a being?, w

when one cannot ask others about such a being's weaknesses., d

due to the aforementioned hypothetical censoring effect?, e

especially if such a boss or other being were perhaps too strong to defeat by ordinary means?, o

or isn't a boss at all, and instead is something it would be very very bad to kill?, n

not that I'm saying that it is or isn't., b

because it seems I can't.

I can't believe my ability to sleuth problems and decrypt ciphers is so strong that I arrived at a mostly-correct answer, even using the wrong process.

Anyway, you're telling me that you're being forced to self-censor and be evasive because an entity is forcing you to, and the entity in question is 1) not a boss, 2) too strong to defeat head-on, 3) probably shouldn't be killed. I can only think of a couple of entities which fall under this banner.

A Player. Perhaps one of the Law, Heart, or Rage variety, who has given a sentence/programming/command to not do the thing you shouldn't be doing. They could also be monitoring/brainwashing you with psionic powers, or else just have a bomb collar strapped to you.

Your Sprite. They're usually hardcoded to be friendly to you and guide you and stuff, but it's not impossible that you somehow prototyped a Sprite which is taking a hostile stance against you.

An Other. Technically not a boss, immensely strong, and it's not that killing them is bad, only that fighting them is innately dangerous.

The Debug NPC.

If it's the Player, then it might be worth it to send messages to your coplayers implying and insinuating that some weird abusive stuff is going on. If you think there's monitoring going on, or otherwise feel like online comms can't work, maybe try to meet up in person. As for "fighting", direct fights are indeed risky (putting aside Titles and such), and PKs are probably not desirable, unless you feel this is a prelude to a PK. In any case doing something like (hypothetically) waiting until they're asleep and active on the Dream Moon, finding their physical body, throwing a weighted net on top of them, splashing ice cold water on them, and then hitting them with a bat or other hard-but-not-deadly object while screaming at them to stop putting a censor lock on you, I dunno it could work. It'd be best to get back-up first though, or otherwise let your more communicative players help.

If it's the Sprite, I have no idea what you prototyped it with that it's hostile and has mind-control powers. If it has to come to it, I wouldn't be too worried about destroying the thing. The Sprites don't really contribute much anyway to people who already know how to play the game, outside of sentimental value (which a rogue sprite is definitionally not doing). Just toss in something contrary to its nature, and it might self-delete (only a euphemism in that it doesn't just zip out of existence, it explodes). Or maybe just throw something in that makes it less hostile? If that's not an option though, because it's double-prototyped, then just progress through the game. Every Sprite will eventually give you your Sprite Pendant, and soon after fuck off permanently. This is a mostly inevitable event, and once it leaves, any negative effects might also auto-dispel.

If it's an Other, I can only assume this was your fault because you made a deal with it. Hopefully you can try to find a loophole in whatever contract you made to get your ability to talk back, or else you'll have to make a second deal. And don't think this will wear off once the Session ends, any deal you make with an Other is persistent. Similarly persistent is your ability to communicate with that specific Other in the future.

If it's the Debug NPC, I can't help you. The fact that the Debug NPC is doing anything of consequence means things are going horribly off-rails, such that I literally wouldn't be able to provide you any relevant information or advice. So you'll just have to rely on your own problem-solving skills. Good luck!

[horizon-verizon]

Who do you prefer more Book! Rhaenyra or Show! Rhaenyra?

*EDITED as of 6/11/23*

Book!Rhaenyra, most definitely. This is a rant.

Though she is not as good with strategy as she could have been on her own--due to Viserys not giving her a proper political and military education like Jaehaerys I gave his sons--I prefer her because her being a "girly girl" from birth while pursuing her claim to the throne and never wavering from the belief that it is her birthright when the some of the court and Alicent have made it their business to remind her--most likely since she is the first female appointed heir--that her gender makes her less worthy of it gives me a thrill.

It could have been tempting to give in at several moments throughout her life not long after Alicent birthed Aegon--again, Alicent and the greens plotted, harassed, disparaged ("safe from Criston Cole"), and thus also most likely made her feel unwelcome in her own home since Rhaenyra was 10. It takes special persistence and resilience to be as sure as Rhaenyra was. Even if she did have private moments of doubt unrecorded, they never stopped her from her course or even made her pause (...until the betrayal of course. We all have limits, and again her childhood though Martin could have at least put in a few refusals against Celtigar's taxes and/or have put out one mid-successful strategy. How hard would it have been to clarify that it was her idea to send Daemon and Nettles out against Aemond or be the one to provide one element of the plan to take King's Landing?).

The determination to do as she thinks despite naysayers, while being as femme as she is great to see. And I don't mean that I think "soft femininity" will win the day or some Sansa-Stan bull, I mean that in patriarchal societies, the more femme-presenting a person of any gender is, the more they are taken as weak of heart or lacking in courage and strength and ability and competency, bc such elaborateness and care to one's appearance that could be read as "seductive" is societally coded feminine/"weaker".

And Doylstically, while GRRM made her much too vulnerable and w/o strategy or focus for much of the war (which is itself scented with sexist writing), again, that boldness and self-advocacy is what I like. She reminds me a lot of Cersei, but with comparatively more sense. I also think she was, for the most part, what alinahams says about her HERE. Except Rhaenyra--before her paranoia--took counsel pretty well....unlike Aegon her brother.

Show!Rhaenyra, from her Milly/young self to her Emma/older self annoys me a bit. Just from the way the writers chose to write her.

Show!Rhaenyra losing much of her fire in her adulthood and by episode 6 might seem expected or inevitable to some people because of the long fighting mostly spent alone, the guilt over Joffrey's death, and her need to look out for her sons in a hostile court, but I see it as a flaw in the writing and more sexist than the original story.

Show!Rhaenyra does not really contend with Alicent unless it concerns her kids. And she is not as decisive as the book! counterpart until Daemon chokes her out, her son dies (but not her daughter, who died before Luke and she called a council for in the book after losing?!), and she realizes that Viserys never told Daemon about the prophecy and thus shows to her that Viserys had much more confidence in her than in his male possible-heir...even though she has witnessed--everyone has witnessed!--for YEARS Viserys never named Daemon heir and she has already been the declared heir for those years. Finally, for YEARS, she has known that the greens sought to usurp her, yet at her moment of truth, she hesitates and disproves Daemon fortifying the castle?! That's all he's doing, too, fortifying it! When she has specifically proposed to Daemon asking for his violent/effective help and support for this very reason (other than loving him)?!!!

No Rhaenyra would be more decisive in such a scenario -- not necessarily gungho into violence after she's had w minute from her rage at Visenya's loss, but she'd be planning for a war and accepting that it would happen! Ignoring this just dumbs her down and makes her overly emotional and more vulnerable to Daemon's supposed roughshodding/external pressures instead of her own urgency and drive for power.

Aside from Rhaenyra already having left KL for Dragonstone after she marries, before she births Jaecaerys and ruing it for years alone before she marries Daemon, coming to befriend Laena, and having the chance to rule away from Alicent's presence, @xenonwitch points this out about Alicent:

the writers decided that a woman could only align with patriarchy if she had been brutally crushed beneath it and deprived or all agency. Hence Alicia becomes a doll for the men in her life to play with. This victimization also causes massive discontinuity during the scenes the writers decided to include actual text-based Alicent moments. The character they have set up is simply not designed to state the agency/ambition-based quotes that her book “counterpart” (term used loosely) showcases so easily.

I feel that something like this is also true for Rhaenyra in that the writers could not feel or imagine how/why a woman would fight for her throne on her own merit without the justification of an overhanging prophecy or her father's instructions, or with some awareness of some grand plan set down to define your entire existence to: to make sure that they create progeny who will fight in the Long Night. Both women suffer from the toothlessness of their fathers: Rhaenyra-Viserys, by what I say in the linked post above; Alicent-Otto, by the show making Alicent younger and unwilling to marry Viserys, only doing it by Otto's pressuring her, thus making both more victims than they are supposed to be.

Constant victimhood is not compelling, it's just trauma plot AND it's misogynist because it espouses that a woman can only hold power through suffering to uphold her male relatives' desires and that female power in any form is always given, not taken.

And when has the Dance or any event in the Westerosi monarchial/feudal history has it ever been about "the realm"? That goes for before the Targ Conquest as well--can we actually sit back and assume that any of these people are ever acting for the smallfolk (Alicent against Dyana, the bursting through the floor who Hess called "civilians", Otto not thinking about smallfolk when he pressured Alicent into bonding w/Viserys, etc)? So who is the "realm'? The only ones left to count as "the realm" are rich traders, merchants, and nobles. These are people that Alicent and Viserys tell each other, themselves and Rhaenyra needs protecting?! No, this is a narrative excuse for the prophecy to be the only real indicator for the "good" people vs the "bad" people. The "good" ones are Rhaenyra, Alicent, Rhaenys, & Viserys--those who think of the "realm", while the "bad" are Otto, Daemon, etc. are those who think selfishly--such a reductive thing to do! It became less about Rhaenyra-the-person, and more Rhaenyra-the-device of every male in existence and in her lineage for the sake of the known prophecy.

And to make Alicent more...central or impressive, they took some of Rhaenyra's properties or moments and gave them to Alicent. For example, the show took away her moment of self-advocacy when they gave it to Alicent in episode 5, the reveal of the green dress. Probably b/c they so stripped Alicent down to a helpless goody-two-shoes that they had to give her something some people would sympathize with her for, or think she's heroic. Just to make her more interesting. At the expense of Rhaenyra's characterization, though. And the result is that we also can't really imagine show!Rhaenyra calling for Vaemond's head (she may have or have not made eyes at Daemon, but she still bothered to try and defend herself to the greens when before in the book she took matters into her own hands concerning the Driftmark claim. Viserys didn't have to make a long walk to defend her) OR feeding his corpse to Syrax OR saying "they stole my crown" or "they killed my daughter". this Rhaenyra is nearly unrecognizable...you know why? Because she has become a mere protesting tool.

That isn't at all what ASoIaF--with all its (mostly) gray, well-developed characters--is about. I fell for ASoIaF because it depicted characters trying to find control and a stronger, more autonomous sense of identity in a world that wishes to deny them these and they often find the building blocks. Book!Rhaenyra found strength by recognizing herself as at least part of a great house, similar to what Dany does. In contrast to people like Jon, Tyrion, Arya, who all suffer struggle from their "ancestry not giving them enough solace" to create stabler and healthier identities:

I don't like how the show has made this story about what's good for the "realm" because it detracts from Daenerys and the Big Five's stories by claiming to be that story. And it's not just about fighting for the Long Night, it's also developing personhood through living conflicts between love vs duty vs power.

The Dance is where the Targs began to lose it all. Dany/the Big Five and the main ASoIaF story is when the Targs are gone and the real realm of Westeros AND the realm of humanity are facing a huge fantastical environmental catastrophe. Let the Dance be the Dance, Dany be Dany, etc.

@mononijikayu states with Alicent:

i also have to mention that many people said that the story was not feminist enough when the literal title of the origin was princess and the queen, focusing on the two powerful women who held the reins of power - one fighting for her right to the throne and her house and the other wanting to establish a legacy of her own by using her own children. it wasn't an just an archetypal stepmother story, thats just one part of the vindictiveness that runs along the story. it was two women challenging the status quo in their own way, creating a sense of agency in the damn patriarchal society. people like to apply so much of the modern peripheral on medieval society but look away when the main lead were women trying to decide for themselves what their lives should look like.

This part is especially true: "the main lead were women trying to decide for themselves what their lives should look like." This is what both book!Alicent and Rhaenyra were, women who both were trying to create a future for themselves where they'd benefit, trying to engineer their own lives by their own means and claims to resources, by their own will.

No, because a girl or a woman couldn't possibly try to flout patriarchal mores or try to decide her own fate if she truly is as "girly", feudal woman/girl (think Lucrezia Borgia from 2011 The Borgias) as canon states Rhaenyra to be. We have to have a modern, 2000s, "independent" young girl placed in a feudal world to suffer its inequities (look how bad things were, aren't we so much better off?!)....only to basically give up entirely and not fight for the birthright because....of a page that her treacherous former friend gives her...and ignore the risk to lives and dignities of not only her sons but herself, her husband, her sworn lords, and every other black faction member?

Therefore, it's also the stark dichotomy of her young vs older selves that is justified, by the show's writing, that Rhaenyra is less self-confident or willign to fight back. That she didn't fight with Alicent through innuendos, slight jabs, references of suspicions, or even hint that she thinks that Alicent is after her and her throne. Where's the clever verbal sparring? (This doesn't appear in the book, but esp with Rhaenyra having had her red/black dress moment, do we really think that she would have taken comments like "who protects the princess from Criston Cole" down lightly, as we should know Alicent definitely would have kept making such comments up until Rhaenyra left for Dragonstone and whenever she came back to KL?)

Now just because you get older, doesn't mean you lose a temper or that anger doesn't fill you up when you feel slighted if you are the type of person Rhaenyra in the book was. Remember, her canon characterization was that she could be charming but "never forgot a slight".

azureflight has a post explaining Rhaenyra's canon character HERE, while alinahams has one HERE.

Rant over.

*EDIT* (8/21/23):

THIS is a great post by mononijikayu about medieval queens, female rulers, the history of how women in leadership positions were made and seen as threats to the very structure of social “order”, and contextualizing Rhaenyra thru Empress Matilda. I didn’t even know about Matilda’s husband being comparable to Rhaneyra’s Daemon! PLZ READ!!!!

Excerpt:

just as much, along with these fictitious portrayals, more lies are depicted. these women are considered vixens that cause havoc to men by shifting them into desires and danger. through the written word, we see how women are cast in roles of villains in men’s lives. it is because by their conclusive thoughts, women are the only creatures that are able to turn ‘good honorable men’ into despicable creatures who do shameful, deplorable acts for the sake of women’s pleasures. […]  it is within this narrative that ancient chroniclers declare that women were in fact the doom of men. if they were not able to control the dangers posed by the wiles of women, then the foundations of the mighty society they had built would be up in flames.  [...] as i mentioned, these factors of community are written down and preserved. and with that, the example of the ancients were the foundations by which medieval society built itself. the same concepts continued to cause the same issue within society and that was the exclusion of women from participating in the bigger picture of community and state, much so with governing states in their own right—without judgment or disapproval. 

[heretic-altias]

FFXIVWrite Day 16 - Jerk

Altais is very self aware that she is in fact, a jerk, lol. Yet somehow she still makes friends. This takes place at some point during Heavensward, as Altais spent that expac learning mch.

Don’t know my characters? Here’s a basic breakdown to help you out!

~

Ishgard’s ever freezing climate was not pleasant to an Au Ra. Altais’s scales frequently felt like ice against her skin.

It had originally been the simple warmth emitting from the manufactory that had driven her to see what Stephanivien had wanted. And maybe one could argue that had brought her back the next couple of times. But as Solar’s time in Ishgard went on, she found herself enjoying the work there. Designing and building weapons was a way to grow stronger, and she had a good mind for the magitek engineering involved.

Stephanivien was also the only Ishgardian who acted so friendly towards her. Sure, there were a couple of people who acted friends towards the Scions and Solar as a whole, but Altais had always felt those people tolerated her at best. She was not a kind person, and had never learned a lot of social niceties. She usually came across as blunt and rude, whether it was intentional or not. Combine that with a general mistrust of people, and you had a woman who was very difficult to befriend. Most people backed off fairly quickly. Ishgardians in particular with their general dislike of anything scaled.

So Altais didn’t quite get why she was wanted in the manufactory. She knew Stephanivien wasn’t like the typical Ishgardian noble in regards to origin, he would recruit anyone willing to spend time there. But how had she not scared him off with her demeanor like most others? He didn’t even avoid her while she worked, he would often stop to ask how it was going, or work on his own project nearby to make small talk. Altais could understand her talent being wanted, she had picked up on the craft faster than anyone else, but why did he value her company?

One day, tinkering with her newest weapon, she decided to ask.

“Why do you like being around me anyway?”

“Why would you ask such a thing? Do you have reason to doubt my intentions?” Stephanivien questioned curiously, stopping what he was working on to give her his full attention.

“I doubt everyone’s intentions to a degree, but you’re not exceptional there. Most people don’t like my company though. I’m not exactly friendly. Some people have told me I’m outright mean. Not that it matters to me, I am what I am, but you’ve been the odd exception in this city. Solar likes me, but what we have is something… different” Altais shrugged.

Solar was the group of people she constantly faced life and death consequences with. They knew she could fight alongside them and had seen that she would. That wasn’t an experience anyone else shared with her. It was hard to put into words exactly what, but that had built a special sort of bond between them. One even Altais could recognize.

“Well you and I share this interest in machinistry. That’s enough to start a conversation in itself I daresay. I try to talk with everyone here, but you keep up with my theories better than anyone else. You don’t share much about yourself, but when we work together I see a bright mind behind that harsh exterior that I’d like to get to know more” Stephanivien thought aloud, seeming to consider his words carefully.

“I’m not really sure what it is you think you see. I’m not a very good person and I come across exactly as I am” Altais answered back.

“Ah, but you’re not a bad person. ‘Good’ and ‘kind’ are not always connected. You may not be kind my friend, but I can assure you that you are good. Do you think I would have seen the potential I did in you if you weren’t?”

Altais had her doubts. She could see what he meant, this city was full of outwardly kind people who were rotten to the core. But just following some heroic types around didn’t make her good like they were.

“I don’t think I’ll ever understand your persistence in befriending me” Altais finally decided with a shake of her head.

Maybe someday she would. But she’d said pretty much the same thing to Akku early on, and while she liked him and considered him a friend now, she still didn’t understand his persistent attempts at friendship in face of her attempts to brush him away.

“You might just need more time to grow used to it. But if there is anything I can do to make you feel more comfortable here, be sure to tell me. I would hate for you not to return” Stephanivien insisted.

Altais turned away from her own work to glance at the project behind him.

“Well that gun certainly isn’t capable of shooting me in the back, so I think I’m safe for the moment” she pointed out.

Stephanivien feigned hurt, “You wound me! Worry not though! She’ll shoot perfectly well once I finish putting her together! But I believe the targets we have set up would be more suitable for testing than your back”

“Using those would come with less regret too I’d imagine. The targets don’t shoot back”

Stephanivien laughed, and while Altais’s face didn’t change, a slight upward lift in her tail gave away her amusement to those who knew to recognize it.

Altais didn’t have the answer to her question in the end, but she also didn’t have a reason to stop coming back.

[hunterofthehunters]

14) Resident Evil 3 (PS1)

playing this on a vita may not have been the wisest decision (also on pre-4th of july time with family and relatives, but it's fine)

okay so. how to summarize my feelings here...

full disclosure: i played this on hard mode, and also as i said before on a vita. i did not learn until near the end there was a manual aim because it was physically not bound to any button. as such i had to make those adjustments myself very late. so yeah.

this game's really good and i can immediately see why people remembered it so fondly. but at the same time i'm very. mixed on my opinions.

i think the general presentation of it is great. the story's simple enough with a good premise and good execution. i like jill in it, i like carlos, nikolai is a bastard. but we're not here for those other two. we're here for the Big Boy

nemesis is very fucking effective in this game. like, actually a sincerely terrifying hunter enemy. but he isn't effective bc of his a.i. or his moveset in fights or anything. re3 does this very clever thing where it spawns him in specific ways, at specific times, with specific framing that gives off the impression he is constantly on your ass. they didn't have the ability to program a persistent enemy that actually chases you across the map. it's just a trick; a cleverly hidden illusion, and a great example of how games are very much bullshit that tricks you into believing certain things are happening in a certain way. it's a reminder of how similar to theatre they are imo and i like it a lot.

what i like less is when the game expects you to actually deal with nemesis instead of run

okay so. tank controls aren't inherently bad. they can even be really cool and fun, and they're why i think games like armored core fuck immensely

i don't feel like re's tank controls fall under that category. the number of times i got into bad situations, not because i made a fundamental error in judgement, but because the controls themselves were fighting against me, was actually very frustrating. these things are really just minor grievances when dealing with normal enemies (hell even the hunters were easy in this, but that was bc carlos had an assault rifle).

these minor issues become Really Fuckin Big Ones when nemesis decides to stop being a chase sequence and become an actual boss battle. the tank controls are designed for very slow, methodical gameplay. nemesis meanwhile is moving like you're playing an action game where you have a consistent dodge to avoid getting combo'd for half your health in a single sudden hit.

"oh well you can just get used to the weird dodge and get good" yeah i did. i'm posting this now, aren't i? the problem is the process was kinda grating. i don't feel like his moveset was really considered alongside the gameplay. he moves so quickly, so aggressively, and he has so many ways to disrupt your ability to fight him and make you mash to get up and Whoops He's Instakilled You Off A OTG Command Throw, Better Reload

i swear i don't hate nemesis in this. i like him a lot. i think i just feel a little let-down because i was expecting some masterpiece of design like people kept hyping him up as vs the remake. instead i'm seeing a flawed but cool idea that was let down by faulty boss design.

maybe that was the problem with the remake. people wanted to see it fulfill that promise.

either way, this whole rant is a minor gripe. these fights only happen like 3 times and the latter two can be beaten through the power of Let The Idiot Walk Into The Trap. which is fine i guess and fits the tank controls better. (i'll admit seeing him fall apart over time and grow more frenzied and blinded in the acid valves fight was a very cool bit. why didn't you do that, remake.)

re3 ps1 is a great game. i liked it a lot. i just wish i would've loved it.

[sahhr-studiesmed]

JOURNAL ENTRY - 20 June, 2023

In ten days I have my send ups that will be starting. Basically they are exams. The entire next two months are just exams.

These days I write my journal entry out and don't post it because I couldn't. There is so much to say but I'm having trouble saying just about anything but there is so much to say I want to say but it's as if my words have been locked away and someone took the key away. I've been struggling with that for a week now. Nothing was helping and all I did was doom scrolling as the worst case of executive dysfunction and task paralysis took over me. The kind where you keep telling yourself to get up but your body won't get up so now you are screaming in your head and your body still won't move because moving feels that hard.

Knowing that you need to be doing something else but aren't doing it even though you want to do it. It's the worst feeling ever and this feeling persists very strongly.

I am a bit of the opposite of other people or am I completely misidentifying my feelings. I cannot say. when everyone seems to be bothered and working hard— even those that never did before. I'm not worried about myself at all— as my worry isn't translating into any action at all. Rather I feel these specs of harsh anxiety and they go away just as suddenly as they appear. Perhaps because I know there is not much I can do at this point. Other than doing as best as I can.

Back when I was preparing for NEET ( the qualifying exam for being a doctor in my country ), at one point I stopped caring if I would make it or not. My point is that all I did was do as much as I could and left the rest to God. I did as much as I could by fighting for as long as I could- till the end. What happened after the end was what the god wanted for me. It's not always easy to accept things so I pray. I pray that things go my way and that God is listening because he needs to. People pray to god and I think I have my daily arguments with God. Fights perhaps? Anger perhaps? There is everything. Reverence and anger but the faith I believe remains. Faith that things might not go my way and it really fucking sucks but I will fight the fight because that's my responsibility. That it is my responsibility and no one else's, not even gods. So I fight god because that is why my and his connection is like. He's my friend but we have our falling offs and reconciliation. And I know God is not for everyone but this is what it is for me.

But coming back to people— if people are studying around me, I can't seem to study as well. If people are only sitting around me and I'm the one studying. I can do it. Is this the curious case of body doubling? Or just a severely low self-esteem? Or perhaps both?

I'm envious of those whose heads and minds work with them and not apart from them. I was going to write the word against instead of the word apart but I don't think my mind wants to work against me. It made me sad just as suddenly as it had appeared. I feel sorry for my mind— because it tries to work with me.

So it makes me envious because— why do they get to be normal and me with the extra struggles? I wish I was the normal one or perhaps a little more extraordinary because that's what it feels like— that to belong to this place I need to be more than myself and more like others. It's shitty.

Perhaps there are fifty other people here with the same thoughts as mine and I don't know about them and perhaps there are none. I will never know.

Today I made myself get up and eat breakfast, lunch and dinner properly. I hadn't eaten anything properly for the past three days. Just one meal a day and that too not food. I also made myself attend a few classes today. Just for the sake of it. Tomorrow I might not go. It really depends. I also studied today after I hit another slump.

I downloaded a pomodoro and used that. It was an app I had deleted earlier and now I got it back. I felt the resistance and I'm immensely slow as compared to my counterparts but I'm waking at the snails pace. I haven't turned into a rock yet. I might tomorrow. I don't know.

I'm trying to survive because I can't die. Not like this.

" If winter comes, can spring be far behind? "

[zoeykallus]

Hunter – Dirty Little Thief 2 - Fairplay

Hunter x female reader She/Her (Enemies To Lovers)

Warnings: A little Cat And Mouse Situation/ Some Violence/ Very cocky reader/ Strong Language/ Implied Force Sensitivity In Reader/ Injury/ Mention Of Blood

________

Author's Comment:

Still playing cat and mouse with Hunter, he of course doesn't make it easy for you. But being the good guy he actually is, he is trying not to harm you.... and fails.

________

What Happened Before:

Dirty Little Thief

Part 2 - Fairplay

Hunter ran out of the hut and looked around. He could smell your perfume in the air and started running, but the farther he got from the cabin the fainter the smell became. He stopped, turned around and ran back to the hut. The smell was much stronger here not only because you had been here, but because you still were, he guessed.

You had been hiding, very close, you didn't know about his extreme senses and that he could smell you and at the moment even hear your heartbeat, which was getting faster and faster the closer he got to your hiding place.

He sighed and said, "I know you're under the tarp by your junk speeder."

You held your breath, not sure if he was bluffing.

"Come on, do I really have to pull the tarp away?"

Yes he had to, because you decided to call his bluff.

"Fine, have it your way."

Hunter reached for the tarp but at the same moment your leg swept out from under it and pulled his feet away. He landed hard with his back on the sandy, dusty ground and cursed.

"I'll yank your ears off, girl," he grumbled as he hastily scrambled to his feet as you ran off after all.

He set after you, you could hear his quick footsteps behind you. You ran from your persistent pursuer, hooking and darting from side alley to side alley. He was fast and he just wouldn't give up.

You took a quick look over your shoulder and were startled to see that he was catching up. Soon he would only have to stretch out his arm to reach for you. You hastily stopped and crouched down, as expected he collided with you and fell over your crouched person. However, he did not fall down as you had expected, but reacted quickly, skilfully rolled off and was immediately on his feet again.

You had not expected this. You took too long to collect yourself, when you stood up he was already with you, grabbing the collar of your old leather jacket and pulling you towards him.

"Listen, I don't want to have to hurt you" he said "Just give me back what you stole from my ship and we'll forget about it".

You looked at him stubbornly and said "I don't know what you're talking about".

Hunter sighed annoyed, pushed you against a wall of a house and wedged you between himself and the wall.

"You may be a dirty little thief but you're also a woman and I don't like hitting women, however if you don't give me a choice then..."

"Then what?" you asked laughing "Be sure I'll fight back, don't worry I won't make it easy for you to hurt me."

He growled impatiently "I don't want to!"

You tried to wriggle away from him, but he got a hold of your wrists and nailed them to the wall with his hands to the left and right of your head while his chest pressed against yours, keeping you pinned against the wall.

"Let me guess, you don't have it on you anymore, do you? Where did you hide it? By the speeder?"

He was so close you could feel his hot breath on your face as he spoke. Your eyes found his, his eyes were gray but with an amber underlay, a bit like his eyes were about to change color, which was nonsense of course, but definitely an interesting color. You wondered how you could be distracted by this right now, but at the moment he didn't say a word but just stared back, as if he were similarly distracted.

He was handsome, as far as you could tell. He was strong, that much was certain. Despite his equipment you could see that he was well built, broad shoulders, narrow straight hips and you could bet that his thighs were equally trained, and hard as stone when he tightened them. His slightly longer black hair, thick and full, was tied back with a bandana. Half of his prominent face under a dark tattoo.

You gathered yourself, it didn't matter what he looked like, you weren't friends and probably wouldn't become friends. You had stolen from the man, admittedly something you were quite sure he had stolen as well, but still.

"Why did you take it anyway?" he suddenly asked into the silence of the back alley, snapping you out of your thoughts.

"I actually wanted your weapons," you said honestly "But then I saw this thing, looked valuable and-"

Hunter frowned.

"And what?"

"Nothing," you said dismissively, almost telling him about the whisper you heard "It looked like it would feed me for the next few weeks"

Hunter's brows moved up, surprised.

"You steal for food?"

"It's how I've survived here on Tatooine since I was little," you said defiantly.

Hunter sighed.

"Anyway, I'm on a mission to get the holocron to a certain place, that's what my brothers and I get paid for. So where is it?"

You let the term holocron run through your mind, somewhere you had heard that before. But you didn't come up with where and in what context.

You knew he was wearing protection, but you still pulled your knee up with full force, the impact between his legs, was at least enough to knock him off his balance for a moment. He let go of your wrists and staggered back two steps. You took the opportunity and ran. Of course, he was right back on your heels. The guy wouldn't give up, that much was clear to you by now.

In the next moment he grabbed your jacket and pulled you down with him. The holocron tumbled out of your inside jacket pocket and tumbled across the sandy, dusty ground. He scrambled up, trying to reach for it. You automatically reached out for the object because you wanted it, you knew it was over, he almost had his hand on the holocron, when suddenly, as if by magic, it rolled across the ground toward you and into your outstretched hand.

Your fingers closed around it, while you heard again the soft, gentle whispering that seemed to come from inside the holocron. Your eyes wandered from the holcron to your opponent, who just stood there staring at you as you struggled to your feet.

His look was a mixture of surprise, fascination, confusion, and maybe even a little awe, and you had no idea what was going on.

"Wow," he said "What was that? Are you a... Jedi?"

You frowned at his question, you had heard of Jedi before but never met one.

"What nonsense" you said "There are no Jedi anymore".

"Then explain to me how you did that"

You shrugged your shoulders and said reluctantly "I don't know, I wanted it before you did and it came to me"

"You may not be a Jedi, but you can use the Force" he said with conviction.

To your knowledge, nothing like this had ever happened to you before, none of this made sense to you.

"I don't know, but that thing is mine now, whether you like it or not" you growled.

He sighed.

"I can't let you have it," he said sternly.

You tightened up.

"You're not getting this back without a fight, though," you growled firmly.

With a sigh, he drew his blaster and aimed it at you.

"Hey," you protested "you're not playing fair."

He shook his head and said apologetically "I can't afford to play fair, sorry".

As he pulled the trigger, the stun charge hit you square in the chest. A jolt went through your body, your fingers stiffened, the holocron slipped from your grasp and fell to the floor, shortly after you toppled over. You didn't even realize that your head hit the ledge of a wall before you hit the ground.

Hunter cursed and rushed to your side. He hadn't planned that. He examined your head and saw a nasty laceration.

"Damn it!" he grumbled.

He picked up the holocron from the floor, pocketed it, and finally threw you over his shoulder. He wasn't going to just leave you lying in the alley, injured and alone in the middle of the night in a back alley in a seedy neighborhood like this. Hunter decided that Tech should take a look at your head wound before you parted ways again. Thief or not, he didn't want to be responsible for your death.

@oneshot-one-kill

@moonstrider9904

@photogirl894

@chlorine-claws

@the-sith-in-the-sky-with-diamond

@brynhildrmimi

[kiame-sama]

28 Years - Yandere!Silva x Reader (2nd Pregnancy)

Many have asked and now, here it is!!

Warnings; Dub-con, pregnancy, yandere relationship, manipulation, mention of past abuse, yandere, yandere behavior, yandere tendencies, nsfw, Silva extreme views, family bonding,

It had been a few years- close to six- but the scars of your emotional turmoil were still present in your behavior and actions. You would become distressed whenever Silva attempted to be intimate with you, only calming down when he would back off, giving you the space you needed. Sometimes he would and sometimes he wouldn't, but he generally had not lain a single hand on you with any intent to hurt or force you to do anything.

It seemed he might have learned from his egregious error of taking Illumi away from you and punishing you for running away from him. Now he was cautious and treated you like glass in his grip, still keeping you close as often as possible and readjusting you to his touch. Some progress has been made- you no longer flinched from his touch or sobbed when he held you- but you still reacted like you were being burned or tortured with any kind of intimacy.

Though he wouldn't admit it, Silva hated seeing your pained expression, listening to your frightened whimpers and cries, seeing your panic whenever he tried to pin you under him, and most of all he hated how you never seemed to enjoy intimacy with him anymore. Even when he had first kidnapped you, you would make such loud noises and moans of pleasure any time he touched you and now you just panicked and cried. He didn't think your rejection of his affection would impact him so deeply, but he honestly couldn't remain hard or cum when you cried in such a way whenever he took you.

He was unable to enjoy it if you didn't enjoy it.

He could be a patient man, but he also had burning needs that drew him into near feral insanity if he refused to indulge in them. Silva NEEDED you. He needed your touch, your affection, your intimacy, all of it. He had tried to ignore his needs more than once before and almost every time he was unable to last very long, aching with desire just to feel your touch against his skin.

Even if it meant you were striking him or cursing at him, he would feverishly accept your touch with absolute glee. He was so sick with how desperately he needed you. His only 'cure' to this aching need was indulgence in his addiction to you. He was addicted to everything you had to offer and to everything you did. Nothing other than you mattered to him because you were his world. You were his love, his light, his everything.

True to his assassin nature, he quietly entered the room, frowning upon seeing you curled up in your shared bed and slightly shivering from the cold his absence seemed to cause. He chose to wake you gently, massaging your shoulders and murmuring softly to you in a husky hum.

"(Y/n), wake up..."

"Ngh... Hm? Silva? What is it?"

"I want to try something with you."

He felt your body stiffen as you fully awoke due to his words, fear and anxiety shooting through you almost violently at the implications his words had. You could only muster a whimper and start shaking your head back and forth, not trusting your words to be enough to deny his advances. Still he persisted, arms snaking around your midsection and pulling your back up against a warm chest.

"Shh... Trust me."

"No... No. No! No no no no no no no no!"

You were thrashing like a wild animal at this point, clawing for freedom and screaming out as if in pain, biting him when you could as you tried to wrench yourself from his grasp. He continued to simply hold you close as you thrashed, wailing and fighting his grip with all you had. But even your energy had to die down at some point, panting and whining pathetically as you lay exhausted in his arms.

"It's alright. It's okay... See? You're okay."

"No..."

"Yes. Have I hurt you during all of this?"

"... No..."

"See? I just need you to trust me. It won't hurt and we can take this as slowly as you want."

"I don't want it..."

"You do. You just think you don't because you're scared. I hurt you. I have done you wrong and unknowingly enforced the idea of intimacy being a punishment. I should have shown restraint and should have never done what I did to make you run in the first place. Let me show you this is different. Let me show you it's okay."

"..."

Your whimpers quieted as you lay hyper aware of any movement Silva made, feeling one arm drag down your side and his hand come to a rest on your lower stomach. When you didn't immediately try to push him away, he continued to follow the soft curve of your body until his large hand was parting your thighs. He slid his hand into your sleep pants where he cupped your heat and gently kissed your shoulder, slowly beginning to rub light pressure over your sensitive body.

The softest of noises left you, some kind of mix between a whimper and a moan, uncertain if you were whining from fear or due to the gentle movements of your husband. When Silva added a bit more pressure to your warm heat, you expected a flash of pain to stab through you, instead a soothing sensation ran through your mind and compelled you to calm just a bit more. Your light moans seemed to be the only confirmation Silva needed to keep going, sliding his hand gently between your soft folds, fingers prodding at your wet entrance.

Your mewling moans turned into gasps of pleasure as you gripped his thick arm, pressing back against his warm chest and whining in bliss. The light feeling of his lips trailing over your neck made you whine and shiver, hips beginning to slowly move with his relaxed strokes. You could feel how much your responses were affecting him given the rock-hard length that pressed stiffly against your back, pulsing in desire and need.

He tugged at your loose sleep clothes, easily sliding them off of your body, leaving you bare against his broad chest. His hands were warm as they slid over your chilled flesh, letting the heat sink into your body and warm you to the core. It was clear he was taking great care to not cause you any level of pain, given his relaxed touch and gentle behavior.

You whimpered when he moved so you were laying face-down on the bed, your hips raised up and his muscled body over your own. The firmness that pressed against you made you mewl and turn your head to look at him in vague fear despite the slick that coated your thighs. It was clear you were still frightened and hesitant to the idea of intimacy with Silva after what he had done to you, but the large hands on your hips gave you little room to voice that fear.

"Shh... It's alright..."

He shifted above you and you were about to question what it was he was doing when an intense warmth met your pulsing pussy, gasping and gripping at the blankets as an obscene slurping sound met your ears. Silva lapped his tongue at your soaked heat, making you mewl and cry out against the blankets beneath you, arching your back as pleasure hummed through your entire body. You couldn't stop the moans that tumbled from your lips due to the mind-numbing bliss that sparked through your brain, balling up your fists as you tried to hold back the sounds.

"Fuck..! Fuck, it- it's so good..!"

You were practically drooling at that point from the pleasure that coiled itself tightly in your abdomen, your eyes clenching shut as you continued to whine loudly. Silva seemed to only be spurred on from your pleasured noises, sinking his tongue as deeply into you as he could, gripping your hips and moving you in time with his desperate licking. When you felt like you couldn't take it anymore, you let out a loud screech of bliss as that coil snapped and flooded your body with euphoria, shaking from the sheer force of the pleasure.

"There we go... Fuck, you look so good squirting for me like this."

A whine left your exhausted form as he slid two fingers into you, moving and scissoring them slowly to get your warm walls to loosen for him. You were able to just lean into your pillows, feeling the echos of pleasure building up inside of you once more as Silva slowly but surely worked you over. He continued with his slow movements, letting you move your hips back against his fingers and fucking yourself on them at the pace you wanted all while admiring the wonderful view he had of your blissed out expression.

When your hips began to slightly stutter and jerk at a faster pace, he pulled away from you, relishing the sound of your needy whine of disapproval. He didn't hesitate to lick his fingers clean of your slick, getting a few more slow strokes of his tongue on your soaked pussy before getting to the matter at hand. He lined himself up, only allowing the tip of his large cock to rub against your tight hole as he gently massaged your hips.

"Would you like more?"

"Ple-please! Yes- yes, please, Silva! I need- ngh- I need more!"

"Then go ahead and take more. Go as fast or as slowly as you wish. Take my cock into you."

Silva was actually slightly surprised at how you reacted to his words, almost trying to take him in too quickly as you pushed your hips back, letting him sink deeper into you. The sheer stretch of taking his entire length was enough to make your toes curl in pleasure, needing to pause for a moment just to try and adjust to the full feeling. Some part of him wondered if you were even fully aware of the grasp you had on his heart, the sole being that held all of his affections and attention.

"Silva..! Please..! I need you to move..!"

You were mewling under him, gripping the sheets tightly as you whimpered and tightly closed your eyes. It was clear that you were in need of some kind of release and he was the only one who could provide it for you.

He wouldn't deny your breathy pleas, at least.

Starting with a slow tempo that built up to a near impossible speed, the bed creaked and complained loudly beneath you due to his unrelenting thrusts. You were in mind-numbing bliss and truly didn't care about the absolute racket you were making as you practically screamed out your moans, letting the sculpted man move your body as he pleased. Silva was in a similar state, lost to the pleasure of hearing your sweet moans as he buried himself inside of you.

He had yearned for such a sound for quite a bit now and your rejection of his affection over the past few years had left him nearly starved for you. Truly, there was only so much he was able to take when it came to resisting his physical need for your touch, wanting desperately to just hold you and have you cry out for him. He was finally able to feel your tight walls milk his hot cock and listen to your breathy moans, seeing you writhe in pleasure from the large cock buried inside of you.

"Tell me how much you love it. Tell me how much you love me. Scream it for me."

"Ngh-! Silva! I- fuck- I love it..! So big..! So damn good! Please! Please I need more!"

Despite the fact you did not say everything he wanted to hear, Silva continue to rut into you with fast angled thrusts that made you practically see stars. His grip on your hips was tight, but you didn't register anything other than that thick length moving inside of you wildly. Even as your eyes rolled back, you couldn't help the whining moans that wrenched from your throat fiercely.

The moment that pressure growing within you broke, you wailed out in a near tortured moan while pleasure washed over you for what felt like ages. The hot ropes of cum filling up your soft stomach only seemed to prolong the pleasure that ran through your veins, as if time itself stood still around you. When Silva finally pulled out of you, you collapsed on the bed and panted heavily, feeling almost too full as you moved to a much more comfortable position.

Silva's large arms wrapped around you and pulled you close, letting you sink into the warm heat that radiated from his sculpted figure. It was truly as if the two of you were just basking in the presence of one another all while you slipped back off into sleep, content with the warm figure that held you so close. Silva took longer to just enjoy the moment after finally getting to embrace you once more without any fear getting in the way.

For now, it seems he had managed to mend the scars of his egregious error and had you content to be with him once more.

~~~~~~~~

You lay on your side, curled up on the tile floor of your shared bathroom, trying to get the queasy feeling to subside enough to move. You honestly couldn't remember a time where you felt half as unwell as you did at that moment, feeling tears sting your eyes as your throat burned with exhaustion. At that point, all you really wanted was to sleep, but with the current exhausted state your body was in, you had no way of reaching the comfort of your bed or the warm embrace of your blankets.

The quiet sound of your door opening drew what little you had left of your attention span, hardly able to lift your head all that far from the tile as you attempted to rouse your body into an upright position. Despite your efforts, it was clear there was no way you were going to be able to sit up and so you simply remained on the cold tile as you awaited whomever had entered the room. To your vague surprise it was not Silva who came through the door, it was Zeno and he honestly seemed as if he hadn't expected to find you in the state you were currently in.

With a surprising gentleness, the elder came to your side and rest the back of his hand on your forehead. He seemed to have some level of honest concern as he gazed down at your exhausted form splayed out on the tile.

"Shall I go retrieve that useless doctor of yours?"

"... Please..."

It took more effort than you had expected to huff out that one word, feeling oddly cared for and respected simply for the fact he asked what you wanted instead of acting of his own accord. Silva would have never done that. He would have taken one look at your unwell state and practically ran to retrieve your kind doctor to have you checked for any cause that may explain your current position.

It didn't take long for him to send out word to have your doctor come to your room before he was back by your side. Truly, if there ever were a time you felt honest appreciation for your father in law, it would be at that exact moment. He could have easily left you to suffer alone on the tile and instead not only sent for help, but returned to your side to wait with you.

"Is there anything you need at this moment?"

"..."

You tried to form some kind of sentence to respond to him, but you felt as if the energy had just been ripped out of you as your eyes began to slowly close. A sharp snapping sound brought your attention back to the man before you who now seemed to almost be more than just concerned.

"No sleeping. Not yet. Do your best to remain awake, Brat."

The faintest of smiles pulled at your lips when you heard that name that he only used for those he felt responsible for as well as those he cared for. Zeno was an assassin through and through and was a proud man at that, but he did have some kind of emotions that were reserved for family and close friends of the family. He was cold and to the point with almost everyone, but he was far more gruff and pushy with those he actually cared about given the way he has had to live on where his wife had died delivering Silva.

It was the only way he knew how to show affection.

"Where..?"

"Silva? Just left on a job this morning. A long job. It should take him at the least a month, if not longer. Of course you would choose now of all days to fall ill, Brat."

"Not.. dead yet..."

A low huff of amusement came from the older man as he sighed and sat next to you on the floor, keeping you constant company despite having no obligation to do so.

"I'm not telling Silva about this until he gets back. You know as well as I do that he would leave the job the moment he heard you were unwell. That fool loves you more than even he realizes."

His words, though harsh, made complete sense to you. Often you had thought that Silva was far more obsessed with you than anyone else realized, given how you were one of the very few who ever saw his true nature without the trained restraint and cold tone he almost always had. He was mentally unwell due to his upbringing and obsessed with you beyond reason, and he believed his actions were justified due to his familial heritage when it came to what they considered to be love.

Maha lived through it. Zeno's father died from it. Zeno lived through it. Silva will die from it.

An insane love that compelled them to do all they could to obtain and keep the object of their affections, even going as far as kidnapping and imprisonment. Silva's sickness is worse than theirs had been, and he is the only one that managed to keep his darling- you- alive. They understood and accepted the obsession he had with you and were content to keep you in Silva's arms as long as possible.

The door to your room opened with a loud creak before Kikyo made her way into the bathroom where you lay. It was clear she moved in a much more rushed pace when she saw you laying on the tile shivering, not even needing to be told to start checking you. She was being much more gentle and seemed to be far more expressive than usual as she examined you with great care.

"It seems to me you may be pregnant again."

You felt surprise run through your veins, but that surprise dulled down for a moment as you recounted what it was like when you were pregnant with Illumi. It certainly made sense, especially given all that happened up to that point.

"If she is pregnant again, I need to have a chat with Silva about keeping his damn hands off her child this time."

"Yes, sir. Shall I contact-"

"Tell him and I'll make you wish you never even considered it to begin with."

~~~~Three Months~~~~

You sat next to Zeno as you remained curled up nice and cozy in your heated blanket, sharing it with the elder who kept you company thus far in your pregnancy. Silva was expected to return any day now and you both knew the absolute fit he would throw the moment he learned what his father had been keeping from him. At least you had some peace and quiet without Silva around for a good bit, though part of you figured he would never accept another long job seeing as something important had been kept from him because of it.

Regardless, you were comfortable and starting to doze off when an unexpected question snapped you awake.

"That doctor of yours, she's the one who set you free after Silva took Illumi from you, isn't she?"

Your surprise must have been clear on your face as Zeno simply nodded, not taking his eyes away from the large television screen you two had been watching. He didn't seem particularly surprised at the answer to his question, nor did he seem all that angry either. It was almost like he knew the whole time but still wanted you to confirm it before he accepted it as truth.

"Please don't-"

"I won't tell Silva. I figured that was the case when you had somehow managed to get out. There would have been no way for you to do it on your own and the only person who had access to you outside of the family was her. To tell you the truth, part of me had actually hoped that you would manage to get away. To escape this place."

"... Why?"

"Because in many ways you remind me of my own wife. Often I wonder what would have happened if I hadn't caught her after she escaped. If I hadn't hurt her as Silva did to you... Perhaps she would still be here today."

You were surprised to hear all of this, having been too worried of upsetting Zeno to ask about the fate of his wife. It seemed she had been in the same boat you were currently in, but it had killed her where you had managed to survive. Before you could ask any more questions about the mysterious woman Zeno spoke so rarely of, the door swung open with a familiar level of force that made you jump slightly in response.

Silva was home.

There wasn't even enough time for you to welcome him back before you were being pulled up into his large arms, feeling his forehead against your shoulder as he pressed his face into the crook of your neck. His large hands easily cradled your body close to his own all while his lips roamed your soft skin feverishly. You were about to try and call out for him to stop for a moment before an old voice beat you to it.

"You can't fuck her, Silva."

"I can do what I wish with my wife, when I wish."

"Not while she's pregnant you can't."

All movement halted the moment Silva registered his father's words, tensing his entire body as he slowly came to terms with what he had been told. Silva moved rather slowly as he positioned you to be cradled in one of his large arms, his hand coming up to rest against your stomach which had already begun to swell up. He almost seemed to be in a trance while he stayed statue-still, sorting out both his thoughts and emotions on the realization.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Silva's voice was a deep and angered growl in his chest, sending shivers down your spine due to your proximity to the very man who could quite easily snap at any moment. Zeno seemed mostly unfazed by the aggressive growl and instead took to observing his sharp nails as if he were bored with the situation he found himself in. You really had to admire the old man's lack of fear while facing off with Silva, who you feared more than you cared to admit.

"Because you would have abandoned your job and that would be a terrible reflection on the Zoldyck family."

"She's been pregnant this whole time and you didn't damn well tell me?"

"Watch your tone, Brat. She's alive, isn't she?"

"How long have you known?"

"Since the very day you left. That morning was when she first began showing signs."

You felt the tension in Silva's body rise to near extreme levels, letting out a sharp cry as his grasp around your soft body tightened past the point of comfort. Your cry made Silva calm immediately and loosen his grasp so he no longer held you quite as tight. That cry seemed to have caused a temporary lapse in Silva's anger as he treated you with extreme care and gently set you back on the couch, giving you a quick once-over to check for any injuries he may have caused.

"Never again."

You looked up in confusion at Silva's lowly growled words, wondering just what he was talking about.

"I'll never leave you for that long again, I swear it."

~~~Six Months~~~

You lay in complete relaxation under your warm blanket, spooning a wonderfully soft pillow all while you dozed lightly on the couch. If anything, this pregnancy was far more... Relaxed... Than your first one had been. Silva seemed to be taking extra care to show nothing but the utmost affection towards you and your child during this whole ordeal and honestly it was doing wonders for you.

You still had that internal need to shield your stomach and your baby from the man who had caused all of this in the first place. This meant his caution around you and extra positive attention towards your unborn infant was all your brain needed to feel more secure in your fragile state even though such a dangerous man lurked nearby at all times. Silva got you anything you could possibly want the moment you brought it up regardless of what time it was or what he happened to be doing at the time you mentioned it.

Whatever food you wanted was immediately made and sent straight to you. If you wanted more blankets you need only shiver before countless blankets were being piled on top of you. Any vague sign of discomfort and Silva was immediately doing everything in his power to ease your troubles in whatever way he could.

You even got to see your first-born Illumi more than a few times as the young boy's presence soothed you immensely as did his sweet curiosity. Illumi may show little to no emotion, but what little he did show he only did so while near you. You could only smile at the memory of Illumi's large and curious eyes staring up at you questioningly while he rest his cheek against your swollen stomach.

"But how did it get in there?"

"Eh... I'll tell you when you're older, okay?"

"Okay. Hey, Mama?"

"Yes, Sweetheart?"

"I promise to take care of any little siblings I get to have."

"That's very sweet of you, Illumi, thank you, my darling."

"Anything for you, Mama."

Despite the odd behavior and almost frightening temper of your first-born, you felt more at ease than you had given the fact that you knew your son would always be on your side regardless of what may happen. Even with his cold demeanor, Illumi showed true affection for you and seemed rather insistent that you have nothing to worry about when it came to the future of your unborn child. At least you felt as if Silva learned his lesson to not take your children away from you too early as well as learning just what a positive impact your son has on you.

You were taking a rather wonderful and deep nap after getting to spend some time with Illumi and had recently awoken, content to just lay still and let yourself slowly wake up. The slow and gentle sound of footsteps drew your attention from hazy thoughts into sharp clarity, listening for whomever they belonged to. A large hand against your stomach almost made you tense up in fear, but the gentle way it lay against your skin kept you relaxed and calm.

"If you kill her, I will come for you next."

Cold jolted down your spine as you heard the low growled words against your stomach. Silva didn't often talk to your stomach or the life within unless it was to appease some request you made or to simply cheer you up. You were well aware that Silva would not handle your untimely demise in the slightest given just how distraught he would be at any idea of you being taken away from him.

You needed to keep your baby safe. But you felt like it was a near impossible task due to Silva hovering around you almost constantly. He certainly didn't take your condition lightly and considering how he received the news months after you did, you knew he refused to spend even an hour away from your side.

To some degree you appreciated the knowledge that nothing from outside of the estate could hurt you, but you also feared the fact that your husband took his 'protector' role rather seriously and could easily cause harm to you. He always said he wouldn't and yet you felt like you knew better, especially after your first several years with him. His lowly growled out words chilled you to your core and you only hoped that he would be in a much better mood once the child was safely out of you.

~~~~ 9 1/2 Months ~~~~

When the hell was it going to end!? You head read of some pregnancies lasting up to as long as a year, but you were getting more than a little tired and Silva's patience was near nonexistent.

"That rat is NOT allowed to keep you for so long. It's coming out today."

"Silva, for once would you just let me do things my way and decide what to do?"

"I am done waiting for it to come out on its own."

"What exactly do you plan to do?"

"Get the doctors to induce labor or just cut it out of you already."

"Would you just-"

You went cold and silent as a familiar feeling washed over you, feeling a slowly growing and rolling contraction beginning to tug at your insides. The panic in your expression seemed to tell him that something had happened and he immediately dropped the subject in favor of tending to you. You were barely aware of what seemed to be going on around you as another wave of dizziness washed over you along with a rather piercing contraction.

Silva stayed with you through it all, refusing to leave even as you were rushed into the delivery room. There was not one moment that passed that Silva wasn't letting you grip as tightly as you needed to his hand, speaking in a low rumble that he only reserved for rare moments of sensitivity.

Everything was primarily a blur to you, passing by in seconds that lasted hours and hours that lasted seconds. So when you finally heard that cry and a faint congratulations, you were already blacking out far too quickly to respond as your entire body achingly tried to reduce the tension in your over worked muscles.

Silva's heart rate jacked through the roof as you went limp in his arms, clearly something having gone wrong during delivery. The honest desperation in not only his actions, but in his very being seemed to leech out any other emotion, his eyes never leaving your face all while the doctor and nurses scrambled around you to do what they could. Silva had dealt with being alone while growing up and never wanted to experience it again, the simple idea of losing you causing the most blood-thirsty aura to spill from him.

If the sheer intimidation wasn't enough to get the medical staff working desperately, that cold glare Silva had locked them with sure as hell would be. There were no questions as to the nature of the consequences they face should they fail, the presence of the dangerous man only serving to add more stress unto the delivery room. The infant had been taken away somewhere quiet and safe so the doctor and nurses could focus on your suddenly poor condition, knowing that their only chance of survival was ensuring you survived.

Silva refused to move or leave or even look away from you before the doctor was able to say confidently that you would live. Even after that time came and passed as you were brought back to a stable condition, Silva had no intention to ever leave your side.

Thanks to the fact his father kept your condition a secret on favor of Silva completing a job, Silva refused to be away from you for any longer than a few days from then on. No more month long jobs that required him to leave you for large chunks of time, now he was committed to staying by your side as often as he possibly could. He adored you and honestly figured heirs weren't worth the risk of you dying, resolving to remove any pregnancy that may occur before you became aware of it.

Two was already too many for him. He didn't want to share you with anyone, but at least the two boys will keep his father off his back about continuing the family line.

He could deal with the brats, so long as everyone knew you were his. He adored you and kidnapped you just so he could get close to you, there's no way he would give you up for anything in the world. You were his world, and ue would protect you until the bitter end.

[randomrosewrites]

I would like to request Xiao getting sick and the reader has to take care of him! uwu thank you in advance <33

a/n: You can! Sick fics are my guilty pleasure, I hope I did Xiao justice <3

Under the weather

Pairing: Xiao x GN reader Summary: Xiao falls sick, and tries very hard to not let a certain someone help him out. Words: 1.5K Tags: Sickfic, fluff, comfort, Xiao acting tough when he's really a huge softie <3

Xiao is a person who rarely gets sick. Him being an adeptus contributes to that greatly.

…key word being rarely.

There are times, where despite eons of fighting and surviving the worst wounds, his immune system fails him, and he falls sick. He detests it. It makes him feel weak. His body feels miserable and his senses are dulled for a couple of weeks afterwards. Worst of all, it brings out that sympathetic, woeful look from others, which he despises. The last thing Xiao wants is for mortals to take pity on him.

So, when he wakes up with a sore throat and a persistent cough that refuses to go away, he continues with his day as normal, refusing to let some minor bug affect his job. He eats a quick breakfast, grunts a good morning to Ver Goldet at the front, and heads to the balcony to get to work.

The rain that pours from the sky stops him dead in his tracks. Of all the days to rain, when he’s feeling bad enough as is. He glares at the sky, dark clouds showing no sign of stopping. The last thing he wants to do today is to spend the day fighting monsters in the torrent, but duty calls.

Sighing deeply, he tightens his grip on his jade polearm, grits his teeth, and steps out onto the marsh.

---

Eight hours later, when he returns, dripping water, shivering, and exhausted, he knows he’s overdone it.

He barely makes it past the threshold of the inn and into his room, collapsing onto his bed wet clothes and all. He feels awful and his cough is so bad that it steals all the breath from his lungs.

He knows he should get up, at least to strip himself of his clothes, but he just can’t find the strength to do so. It’s like his limbs are made of stone, weighed down and heavy.

Rain continues pattering against the roof, and below, Xiao can almost make out the sounds of guests talking. It’s comforting. Background noise that puts him at ease. He’s never been fond of complete silence, nor an excessive amount of noise. Xiao closes his eyes, curling himself up in a ball on his bed. Sleep pulls at his mind, making his ragged breathing steady.

He’s so out of it, he doesn’t notice another presence in his room until he feels a pressure on his head.

Terror shoots through his veins and Xiao leaps up, clumsily drawing his polearm into his hands. Too slow. He hisses to himself. He’s right. A hand wraps around his wrists, easily twisting the weapon out of harm's way. He’s considering kicking the intruder in the chest when a familiar voice grounds him to a halt.

“Woah! It’s just me, Xiao,” your eyes are wide with shock, maybe even a hint of fear.

He blinks up at you. There are no enemies. His weapon disappears in a flash of light. “What the hell. You shouldn’t sneak into other people’s rooms.”

“The door was open,” you defend, letting go of his wrists after a moment. “And the carpet was soaked all the way from outside. What happened? You sound awful.”

“I got wet.” He coughs, squeezing his eyes shut. “Agh – do you need anything? Or can I be alone?”

You frown, starting at him so intently that he averts his gaze. “You’re sick.”

“And what if I am? That’s not your concern-”

You’re already turning away before he’s finished his sentence. He wonders if you’re just going to go out the front door and leave, until you turn into the bathroom, your voice calling from inside, “I’ll run you a bath.”

What.

“What?” he asks. “Why?”

“Because you’re sick. Just stay right there, it’ll be ready in a second.”

“I don’t need you to run me a bath like I’m some…” his skin heats with anger. (Or maybe that’s just his fever.) “Child.”

“You’re not. I don’t think you are. I’m just helping you out,” you say simply.

Xiao releases a breath, clinging to his stubbornness. “I don’t need your help,” With his nose plugged, it doesn’t sound half as intimidating as he wants to be.

Your response is light and tender, almost understanding. It makes Xiao’s throat tighten. “I know, Xiao.”

He doesn’t know how to respond to that, so he sits on the edge of his bed, listening to your shuffling. The water runs and after a few minutes, you exit, sleeves rolled up to your elbows.

“It’s all set, go in whenever you feel ready.”

Xiao gets up, clearing his throat. “Alright.”

He probably should say something else, but he doesn’t know what else to say. So, he awkwardly shuffles into the bathroom, feeling his cheeks burn as he closes the door behind him. The bath is fancier than anything he’s ever taken. A few bubbles foam in the water, and if his nose weren’t plugged, he’d be able to smell the fresh scent of Fontaine bath salts.

He strips quickly and carefully lowers himself into the water, sighing as the knots in his muscles unravel. He lets himself soak for a bit longer than necessary, slowly scrubbing his skin, only getting out once the bath starts to lose its heat. The steam does wonders for his breathing. By the time he dries himself with a towel and changes into a fresh set of clothes, he can breathe through one nostril again.

When he exits, you’ve gotten the blankets changed and are sitting in a chair by the side of the bed. A magazine is open on your lap, one of the ones that came with the room that he’s never read. You close it when you see him.

“Why are you still here?”

“Because you’re sick and need someone to care for you,” you turn, digging around in your bag by your feet. “I also want to take your temperature.”

He folds his arms and does his best to seem imposing. “I’ve survived for eons without the need for anyone else, what makes you think I’ll let you take care of me now?”

“I’m not asking,” you sit up, and with all the patience (or stubbornness) Xiao’s ever seen, pat the bed. “Come here, Xiao.”

He hesitates a minute more before ultimately giving in, planting himself in front of you. A thermometer is placed in his mouth, which he begrudgingly accepts. The chills start to return, so he picks up one of the blankets carefully folded at the edge of the bed and wraps himself in it.

His nose isn’t working, so it comes to a shock when he sees the steaming bowl of miso soup on his bedside dresser, boiled bits of soft tofu floating in the broth.

“Is that…mine…?” It sounds silly the moment he says it out loud, and curses himself for it.

“Mhm. I had the staff bring it up when you were in the bathroom. It’s plain, so it won’t upset your stomach, but I want to get some medicine in you before you have any.”

A bath…food…medicine…he almost feels sick with how much care you’re treating him with.

“This is stupid…” he murmurs as you pour a vile of red liquid into a small medicine cup. He has half the mind to tell you mortal medicine won’t work but knowing your stubbornness, he wouldn’t doubt that you’d gone ahead and purchased special medicine from the pharmacy in Liyue Harbor.

“Stupid is going out into the rain and catching a cold,” you quip back. There’s no aggression to your words, he almost feels bad when he responds with a snarky comment.

“I was already sick before I went out.”

You stop to stare at him, narrowing your eyes in a way that makes Xiao’s insides turn, before sighing. “Stupid is going out into the rain when you were already sick. Give me the thermometer, please.”

His temperature is high, by both mortal and adeptal standards. You force him to swallow two tablespoons of medicine that tastes like ashes and he manages a few spoonfuls of the soup before his stomach protests. He wraps the blankets around him, frowning when you get up and tuck the sheets around his body.

“I didn’t need your help.”

You brush the bangs from his forehead. Xiao’s eyes flutter for a brief moment. He doesn’t push you away. “Whatever you say, Xiao.”

“Let me finish,” he snaps, before collecting himself. He really needs to stop doing that. “I didn’t need your help, but…I appreciate it.”

Your eyes widen a smidge before a small smile spreads across your face, making Xiao’s temperature rise even more.

“You’re welcome, Xiao. Sweet dreams.”

You sit by his bedside until he falls asleep, feeling the safest and more comfortable than he’s ever been in a while. Xiao doesn’t dream anymore, but if he did, he knows it would have been a peaceful one.

[thatrandomwriter]

Rooftop Romance

merle x reader

warnings: swearing, gore, sexual language

“You sure he’s worth it?” T-Dog asked, skepticism written across his face.

“Him and Daryl are our best hunters. They may both share about three brain cells, and Merle is about the biggest asshole I’ve ever met-“

“Hey, fuck you,” Merle cut in. I ignored him.

“But the fact is we need them to survive. We’ll make it out of the city, but you need to go before the others leave without you,”

T-Dog looked conflicted, but after a few seconds he dashed out of the door, racing down the stairs. I pulled the door shut, locking it behind him. There was a strong chance that I had just ensured my own death as well as Merle’s. The sound of the dead beating on the door almost as soon as T-Dog had left seemed to give Merle the same idea.

“Well fucking come on then princess, I ain’t getting any younger over here.” He had that god awful smirk plastered across his face. “You know, there’s a lot I can do with these hands. Maybe I can show ya once I’m free,” he made a crude gesture with his cuffed hand.

“Maybe if you didn’t say shit like that all the time, someone might actually wanna fuck you. You’re disgusting, you know that?”

Instead of waiting for his no-doubt even worse reply, I walked over to see what had been left in Dale’s toolbox. It was mostly screwdrivers and spanners, nothing of any use to me, but I noted a hammer and most importantly a hacksaw. Hopefully it would be strong enough to get through the metal of Merle’s handcuff.

“Call me disgusting all ya like, everyone knows you want a piece of this,”

My cheeks grew hot and I fumbled the saw, almost dropping it as I walked over to him. It was a humiliating feeling to know that he was right. To know that despite what a piece of shit he was, over the few weeks I’d known him, I had developed some form of feelings for him. Merle had found me while out checking the camp’s perimeter with Shane. Having just escaped the city, I was exhausted and terrified, and just about ready to collapse on the forest floor and give up. Of course, Merle’s reasoning for taking me back likely had more to do with wanting to fuck me than anything else, but I wasn’t entirely convinced that Shane would have taken me back if Merle hadn’t been there to bear witness. We weren’t exactly close, but we shared a fondness for drinking and he taught me a few things about using a crossbow. I didn’t fool myself into thinking he wanted anything more than a one time fling with me; he flirted with just about anything with tits. But some small, stupid part of me still hoped for more.

I sat next to him, pulling his hand toward me to get a better look at the handcuffs. When I looked up, he was staring into my face with another stupid grin. I sent him a glare back.

“Come on now, don’t be like that. Last I checked we’re all alone up here, no-one needs to know, part from maybe a few walkers,”

“Would you quit it? I’m trying to save your life.”

“Jus’ trying to lighten the mood. You should really try lightening up sometime, wouldn’t kill ya,”

I rolled my eyes, corner of my mouth twitching upwards slightly.

“Looks like cutting through the cuffs is gonna be a no go, but this pipe you’ve been cuffed too looks pretty old. It’s worth a try at least,” I lined up Dale’s saw, and began working at the metal.

“So I’m gonna be stuck with a friendship bracelet from Officer Friendly?”

The thought made me laugh a little.

“It’s not like you don’t deserve it; threatening everyone with a gun wasn’t exactly your best moment.” I teased. In his defence, he had most definitely been high as a kite when he’d started pointing the gun. Not that that really made it any better.

“I wasn’t gunna shoot em. Definitely wasn’t gunna shoot you, ya far too beautiful,” Merle said.

“And so’s Andrea, right? And Lori, and Jackie, and every other woman who isn’t trying to eat us,”

“I dunno, some of those walkers ain’t too bad,”

I hit him on the shoulder.

“Can’t I make a joke? Or are ya gunna get jealous, hmm?”

I stopped talking to him after that, focusing instead on trying to make any headway with the pipe he was handcuffed to. After an hour or so, I had only made a tiny dent in the metal. Merle was getting increasingly annoying, and the sun was starting to slowly set in the sky. If we wanted to leave today I’d have to hurry; travelling the city in the dark was a death sentence. At least the walkers at the rooftop door seemed to have given up, or gotten distracted by some other unfortunate souls. They had stopped pounding on the door some time ago.

The saw blade bent slightly, but I persisted, determined to succeed, speeding up. Under the strain of my sawing, the blade bent sideways, and suddenly snapped under the pressure, coming clattering to the floor.

“The fuck did you do?” Merle demanded.

“The blade wasn’t strong enough. It couldn’t get through the pipe. I’m sorry.” I felt suddenly numb. I couldn’t look at him. I’d failed. I’d failed him. He was stuck here, to starve or to be eaten by walkers.

“Are you fucking kidding me? I’m gonna fucking die up here, god fucking damnit. Look at me, the fuck did you do?” He grabbed my shoulder with his free hand, gripping me hard, shaking me, forcing me to meet his eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” It was one of the first serious, genuine things I’d said to Merle, and it was a death sentence. Tears pricked my eyes. I didn’t have the energy to hide them.

“No. Fuck that, we’re ain’t done yet. You got a knife, right?” He was still staring into my face, but desperate anger had shifted to urgency.

“Yes, but it won’t cut through metal,” I said.

His grim expression told me that he had already figured that out.

“You can’t be serious. You want me to- I can’t,” There had to be another way.

“You got no choice. It’s my hand or my life.”

It took me a few seconds to process this. The only way out would be to cut off his hand. And I would have to be the one to do it.

“Fine. But I’ll do it first thing in the morning. We don’t have time to get out of the city before it gets dark, and I don’t want you bleeding out overnight.”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you cared about me,” His shit eating grin was back. Only Merle could look this smug after discovering his hand was about to be cut off.

“Good job you know better then,” I smiled and sat next to him, looking out over the darkening city. At least we were stuck somewhere with an impressive view. The setting sun sent orange streaking through the sky, bathing buildings in a warm glow. I glanced to my side. Merle appeared to also be taking in the sunset in a rare moment of silence.

*

“I’d do the same for you ya know,” Merle said, breaking the silence after a few minutes.

“No you wouldn’t.” I replied. It wasn’t something that upset me, it was just a fact - if the roles were reversed, I had doubts that Merle would have stayed on this rooftop even for Daryl.

“Course I would. Yer one of the only people I can stand in that group, not to mention ya got a mighty fine ass,” He grinned over at me. I couldn’t help but smile back.

“You mean it?”

“Yeah, course I do. I could stare at it all day,”

I hit his shoulder with mine.

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

“I ain’t good with the mushy stuff, don’t push it,” He was still smiling, eyes looking into mine for once instead of straying to glance down my shirt.

“Sounds like you care about me, Merle. More than you usually let on at least,” I was teasing him but this moment meant a lot; in short, Merle was shit at showing anyone affection. For him, this was like a declaration of love.

“Yer not gonna make me say it again so drop it,” he huffed.

“I’m just kidding around. And I didn’t just stay here because you’re a good hunter,” I confessed, staring pointedly into the distance to avoid his eyes.

“Course ya didn’t, ain’t no way you’d let me die without getting a piece of this,” It seemed to be his way of lightening the mood, diverting the seriousness of the conversation.

“We should get some sleep, busy day tomorrow.”

*

When the hot sun awoke me the next morning, I found myself nestled into Merle’s side, head on his shoulder, his free arm wrapped around me. I took a moment to enjoy the feeling of his broad body against mine, before pulling away to wake him up. The sooner we were gone, the better.

“Mornin’ “ he grinned lazily.

“You ready?” I asked, and his expression dropped to one of determined focus.

“As I’ll ever be,”

I retrieved my knife and a lighter from one of the pockets of my rucksack. It would have to do as a means of sanitising the blade as I had very little in the way of medical supplies. Shrugging off the button down I wore over a tank top, I folded it ready to use as a bandage for Merle. I could have sworn his eyes slipped down to my cleavage, far more noticeable now the shirt was off, but I wasn’t in the mood to bring it up.

“Can I have your belt?” I asked.

“Don’t need to ask me twice,” He said, the implied innuendo obvious. He unbuckled it with his free hand and tugged it loose.

I strapped it around his forearm, tight as I could make it, a makeshift tourniquet that would hopefully do something to stop the bleeding. It had to be enough.

Merle reached inside his pocket, and withdrew a small bag of white powder.

“You sure that’s a good idea?” I asked, very aware of the dangers we’d face in the city even if he survived losing his hand. Merle being off his face wouldn’t do us any favours.

“Need a little somethin’ to take the edge off,” He tried to form his usual smug grin, but his mouth wavered slightly. I nodded. Who was I to make that decision for him?

I gave him a minute or so, and when he nodded at me, I took my knife to his wrist and began to cut. There was far more blood than I had thought. And despite Merle’s best efforts to remain stoic, and the effects of the drugs, he was in an unbelievable amount of pain. I had to fight the urge to just give up and cry in a corner, but I did it for him. Even when he begged me to stop, to just make the pain stop. His yelling had begun to attract walkers, a few were banging on the rooftop door and the longer this took the more there would be. He gripped my arm as I cut, hard enough to bruise.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” I muttered over and over again as I finished, his hand dropping to the floor with a sickening thunk.

Merle was breathing heavily, gasping through the pain. I pressed my shirt against the wound, tying it tightly and leaving the belt in place. There was so much blood. On my hands, my pants, the rooftop.

“Stay there. I’m going to clear the stairwell, I’ll be right back.”

He nodded.

I unlocked the door and wedged my foot under the door to prevent it opening all the way, a walker slamming forward and right onto my knife. It slumped to the floor. Another was quick to take its place. I worked my way through several before they finally stopped coming. Hopefully only a few had been close enough to hear Merle.

I hurried back toward him. The bleeding seemed to be slowing slightly, though it still showed no signs of stopping. He was losing too much blood. But I wasn’t willing to face that reality.

“You think you can stand?”

“Course I can,” he replied through gritted teeth.

I grabbed his good arm and pulled him forward, helping him stand, putting the arm around my shoulders so I could take some of his body weight. He was heavy, but any help I could give him I would.

We walked to the door and I lead him down the stairwell; it wasn’t wide enough for the two of us side by side, but he leaned on my back and I did my best to steady him on the way down. He stumbled a couple of times, no doubt the blood-loss making him dizzy, but we moved as slowly as I dared, me supporting him when he needed it. At the bottom, another walker lunged towards us. It took me a moment to grab my knife and stick it between its eyes, and I kept the blade in my hand after that. One free hand would have to do to help Merle. It was strange, having to protect him like this. Normally I was certain he’d object to me coddling him like this, but he had no choice but to rely on me for once. We made it to a fire exit around the back of the building in a room with several gas stoves. Merle wasn’t looking his best, blood dripping through the makeshift bandage on his arm. He seemed to have the idea at the same time as me.

“Do it,” He nodded grimly and I grimaced, but didn’t hesitate to light the nearest stove, placing a metal tray on top on the flames to heat through enough to cauterise the stump of his wrist.

“We’re gonna make it back, you know. “

“I know,” He said, but it was easy to see the uncertainty in his eyes.

The metal tray seemed hot enough, and I could tell he was gathering the will to do it, slowly, reluctantly unwrapping the open wound. I wasn’t entirely sure Merle could bring himself to. Gently, I took his arm in my hands, unwrapping it myself. Instead of watching the shirt unravel, he stared down into my face. Despite the circumstances, he still made my cheeks hot with the intensity of his gaze which I somehow managed to meet. I reached up, hooking an arm around his neck and a smile tilted the corners of his mouth. He waited for me to move closer first, and when I leaned my face towards his, he wasted no time in bridging the gap between us with a searing kiss. He was perfectly distracted. It was a shame to waste this moment but I did what had to be done, and drove his wrist down onto the hot metal on the stove.

“Son of a fucking bitch!” He exclaimed, yanking his arm away from the stove, and I winced.

“Shit, I’m sorry, but the bleeding’s stopped, right?”

He glared at me through the pain. “You serious?”

“I said I’m sorry, and I did just stop you from bleeding to death,” I smiled tentatively, and he shook his head, still cursing.

“So ya kiss like that fer a distraction? I’d love ta know what the real thing feels like,”

Kissing him had been stupid. But I was in the mood to be stupid, and I couldn’t resist kissing him again. He somehow mustered up that stupid, endearing grin as I pulled him towards me, lips meeting as his good arm found my waist. I could lose myself in the feeling of kissing Merle, all teeth and tongues colliding with no need to be gentle. His hand scooped me in closer until I was pressed up against him, before drifting to my ass with a squeeze. I hummed in pleasure, forgetting to breathe as he kissed me harder. When we finally broke apart all I wanted was to lean back in and kiss him again and again, to stay like this, pressed as close against him as I could be, not thinking about anything else.

“Knew ya wanted a piece of this,” Merle smirked. God he was insufferable. But I was willing to suffer, so long as he kept kissing me like that.

[staygolddindjarin]

Grief

Chapter two: Rebellion

Din Djarin x Reader x Cassian Andor

Series Summary: Raised on Mandalore, born into a bloodline of warriors, no one ever expected for the daughter of a Clan leader to go rogue. Leaving the life of security and making the journey to fight in the war against the empire meant many things... giving up the way of the Mandalore, and giving up a solid future. A future that involves an arranged marriage to a foundling from another clan.

Chapter warnings: some brief angst, this ones pretty mellow ngl

Words: 3.3k

A/n: i was not expecting such a good response from the first chapter but bruh you guys are amazing- anyway here's part two of my brain's misery

Part 2/?

The trip from Mandalore to the planet of Dantooine was long, and still ongoing. We all took turns, watching to see if we were any closer. After each jump from hyperspace, the transport would stop at a space refueling tank, before slowly going onward toward the destination. We must have been traveling several systems across the galaxy. We had a few laughs, mainly while watching Gander try and steal Shyloh's food from his knapsack while he was sleeping. Most of the other time we all just sat in silence, up until this point.

"What do you think we're all going to do once we get to the rebel base?" Merc raised his voice slightly, barely capturing our attentions as we had all been dozing off, and Shyloh was taking watch at the view point.

"What do you mean?" I had asked, not quite sure of what he was getting at. I sat up straighter against the wall, showing my interest in the newfound conversation.

"What branch do you think you'll end up in?" He was in a daze as he spoke, almost unsure of his intentions of bringing it up. His dark eyes were nearly emotionless under his furrowed brow.

"I hadn't really thought about it. I would say maybe something like mechanics," I said, thinking of the best possible use of my talents. I'm sure there's plenty of mechanical help already assisting the rebels, but with the galactic empire growing it's forces by the day, they needed all the help they could get.

"What about flying?" Shyloh perked up from his seat at the window.

"What about it?" I asked, curious as to why he suddenly thought of the new topic.

"You could do it of you wanted to. Be a pilot, I mean. You have the skills," He told me, but I scoffed. He wasn't in any way shape or form was making an ounce of sense at all.

"Speeder control races are a bit different from piloting fighters against the imperial troops don't you think?" I laughed at the idea, but he rolled his eyes, persistent with his opinion.

"It's less different than you think it is. Also mind you, I never saw you lose a race," He objected, but I wasn't having any of it.

"That's because when I raced, my own credits were on the line," I joked, seeing what he would try and come up with next, only to be met with a cold hard stare, before an answer that would shake me to my core.

"Well, now the freedom of the galaxy is on the line."

My smile dropped from my face and I turned to face the other two, who were looking back at me. They didn't expect that answer either. Shyloh was well known to be a boy of few words, and only really spoke to his friends and family. He was a founding just like the rest of them, but he had been with ths clan longer, due to having been saved from a war infested home as a baby.

He could sometimes be very wise, even if he didn't think he was being so. We weren't sure what it was, but he had this sort of presense that was so powerful. We knew when he would walk in a room, or walk out of it. It's like the air would change. Much like it changed now, with his words rendering us all speechless.

The silence was uncomfortable, and I was the one who left it unresloved, so I spoke up in favor of my crewmates to not keep quiet any longer.

"Perhaps I shall see where I am needed first."

"Perhaps you shouldn't be so afraid to explore an option you would excel in," He again rendered me speechless, and I did not have anything else to say this time. I was young, but my mind was not. I could comprehend thoughts the same way that an adult could. I could handle things just as well and if not better than some, too. He was right. I was simply afraid.

"I think we're finally here," Shyloh said, turning back to look out of the view port again.

"Its about time," Gander stood up, slinging his knapsack over his shoulder and standing at the transport door waiting for it to slide up.

We all followed suit, but Shyloh stopped us and held up a warning finger to stay still.

"There's manding droids, we gotta sneak off carefully. They don't look like bulk but they could be armed," He suggested. We were not yet at the rebel base, meaning these were probably droids of the land, and belonged to whoever oversees the exports on this planet.

When the panel opened, we were all careful to first peek out of the transport. This planet was nothing at all like Mandalore, which was dry and hot. This planet was lush with plants. And the air was slightly humid. It was a very welcome contrast from where I spent most of my life.

We all sneakily bolted out of the transport, ducking down behind one of the cargo units placed outside. We saw an opening in what looked like some sort of forrest patch.

There was a chill in the air on this planet, even in the middle of the day. Mandalore only ever got colder at night, when the sun was down and the moons were shining.

"That was close." Merc mumbled as we began to turn around and head into the grasslands, trying to find the rebel base.

We made sure no one was behind us, and were careful to check if any droids had caught sight of us.

We all went to turn around, but as soon as I did, I collided with someone's chest, rather hard might I add, sending me to the ground on my bottom. I didn't even collide that hard with the person, it was just the shock that sent me backwards.

"Need a hand?" I looked up to see a man, a sly smirk on his face as he held his hand out towards me. I took it without question, heaving myself up from the grassy, and somewhat muddy ground beneath me.

"You must be our contact," Merc smiled, and the man nodded, turning and begining to lead us to a speader that was hovering nearby behind a large set of trees.

"We must be careful not to use names outside of the base. I would be more than happy to formally introduce myself once we reach our final destination," He chuckled. It was only now that I realized he had an accent, a thick one. Probably left over from his native tongue that spilled out his mouth when he spoke galactic basic.

I know that sometimes my accent slips in when i speak. I never had to worry about using Mando'a around my fellow crewmates. They were foundlings, and hadn't been raised to speak it. Shyloh was, but he prefered to use galactic basic anyways because he had forgotten so much of it.

We all boarded the speader, Gander and I sitting on the back, our legs hanging off as we held onto the side bars.

"This might be a bumpy ride for you two," The man said, looking at both of us before giving me a wink. I scrunched my face up, not sure how else to react to it. The man was definitely on the younger side, but I wasn't sure how he could possibly see an interest in me.

Maybe he did and I just didn't want him to. Maybe I was still hinged to the idea that I would go back to Mandalore someday and marry my betrothed. I was so young, and hadn't the slightest idea of what feelings I could possibly be harboring, if any at all.

I couldn't deny I found him appealing. Anyone would, at least any human with eyes that is.

His hair was dark, and so were his eyes. He had a bit of stubble along his jaw and above his lip. He was somewhat scruffy looking, but in a good way.

As the speeder went through the forresty stretch of pathway, I kept turning around to catch a glimpse of him. Each time I did I had to look away fast because Gander would give me weird stares.

I would play it off like I was simply taking in the view of the green planet around me, and he wouldn't seem to notice.

After a while, with quite a few twists and turns, and Gander and I nearly falling off the speeder twice, we arrived to our destination.

We all hopped out of the transport, following the man into a giant cargo port. As soon as I looked to my left I could see an X-wing fighter in all it's glory. I had never seen a real one before, just heard stories and viewed holograms.

"Alright. We have about twelve other recruits arriving on this base today, so you will all be attending orientation this evening. As for right now, you look beat, and should rest. PX-74 will assign you to your bunks," He said, gesturing to the droid before beginning to walk away with a nod, but I stopped him before he could take a step.

"Wait a minute... I believe I recall something about a formal introduction," I crossed my arms over my chest and shifted my weight, trying to give off the look of having as much confidence as I could muster. I was putting on a facade, possibly to make me seem more mature. I didn't know the real reason.

He smirked, raising an eyebrow as he scanned me up and down with his dark eyes.

"Cassian Andor," He smiled, then looking right back at me with questioning eyes. "And how about you... you got a name?"

"Y/n from clan Maldrix," I said, my confidence wavering a little when he looked at me the way that he did.

"She's a Mandalorian," Shyloh perked up, and I sent him a warning glare.

"Yeah, sixth generation," Merc added, his cocky smile pasted on his face for all to see and be annoyed by.

"A mandalorian? I've heard the stories but I haven't ever met one. Are you-?"

"I'm not," I cut him off before this got twisted into one big lie. "My mother and father are."

"Doesn't that make you one too?" Cassian furrowed his brow but his tone was somewhat joking and humorous.

"No, it does not," I wasn't harsh with the way my voice came out, but I was firm. Though I wasn't one of them, the mandalorians and all they stood for were very important to me.

"Mandalorian is not a race, it's a creed. Some of the best Mandalorians I ever had the pleasure of knowing didn't even have a bloodline from Mandalore. They were foundlings, like these three," I explained, laying out the facts so that there was no longer any confusion lingering, but now there was a tension that was thicker than the trees on this planet.

"Even still, she can fight just as good as any soldier taken the creed," Merc jumped in, trying to clear the air, and thankfully, it seemed to be working.

"She flies even better," Shyloh mentioned, and I swore I could kill him. He was just so pushy sometimes, even with his massive sense of wisdom.

"You fly?" This peaked Andor's interest, and immediately he seemed more engaged towards me.

"I'm not as good as they say I am," I admitted, but he shook his head.

"No, really... if you can fly we could really use you. We're putting together a team for an air raid that's set to happen about one month's time from now," He came up closer to me and stared me in the eye.

"I'm just a kid, I might really let you down," I joked, trying not to get too caught up in his eye contact. His eyes were much darker when you could see them closely.

"I tell you what, I can arrange for you to have time in the flight simulator after orientation. If we feel you would be an asset, we can add you to the strike team," He said, nodding along to his words. I understood that they might need backup, and if push came to shove, I could maneuver faster than any pilot back on Mandalore. I never lost a race, nor did I ever lose a bet.

"Okay."

I could tell I was blushing from the extra attention I was receiving. I wasn't so sure what about me was so enticing that I deserved it.

"I have to go now to pick up the other recruits from a drop station. I leave you in the capable hands of PX-74," He said, returning to his speeder and letting us be lead off into the base.

"There are only so many open bunks left. Two of you will share one, and the other two will be placed with bunk mates." The metalized voice of the PX unit was strong in our ears, and we all followed after him as we ventured into the long hallway at the end of the cargo port.

The droid stopped at a door about midway through the hall and opened it using the side panel on the wall, revealing a young man that seemed almost younger than me even.

"One of you will be staying here. Which will it be?" The droid asked, turning towards our small group.

"I'll take this one," Shyloh said, stepping forward into the bunk to meet his new roomate.

The boy looked a bit frightened at first, but because of Shyloh's powerful yet calming energy, he seemed to relax almost immediately.

He turned and smiled back at us, waving before the IG unit closed the door and kept us going.

He walked us down passed several more doors, maybe more than twenty, before he stopped at another one and opened it up.

Inside sat a young woman, her legs crossed as she sharpened a knife with a smirk on her face. She looked up and made eye contact with me first.

"I wondered how long it would be before they got someone else in here." Her voice was somewhat low and raspy, but it was kind of soothing in a way.

"One of you-" the IG unit began again, but I stopped him, stepping into the bunk with the girl inside.

"I'll take this one." I smiled at the two boys left before the door closed on my new bunk.

I moved to set my knapsack down on the bottom bunk, but my roomate stopped me.

"Bottom one's mine." She said, looking up from her sharpened knife again to inform me of the sleeping arrangements.

I instead threw my knapsack on the top bunk, trying to climb up into it, but failing miserably.

"You need a hand?" She chuckled, watching my lame attempts to swing my leg up high enough. The fact that there was no ladder should have tipped me off.

"I'll be okay, thanks," I laughed, keeping my attitude loose and positive, though this bunk bed was already causing unnecessary problems for me.

"If you say so," She chuckled again, seeing as I finally managed to haul myself up and onto the bed.

"First try," I joked, and she laughed like it was the funniest thing in the world. I think that we would be getting along, because no one ever laughed at my lame sense of humor.

I laid back, resting my arms behind my head and staring blankly at the ceiling.

"So, where are you from?" She piped up, not taking her eyes away from her previous knife. That thing must mean a lot to her.

"Mandalore," I let out, trying to get comfortable on this lumpy pad that was under my head.

"Actually?" She seemed surprised. Everyone had heard of the planet that the mandalorian tribes had resided upon, and usually they understood what kind of people the place would breed.

"Yeah. Left just in time. Tomorrow's my birthday," I shut my eyes continuing our converastion with one less sense. It didn't matter, though. I was still fully awake.

"What would you have had to do?" She pondered curiously, finally looking up towards the bunk in interest.

"Well, to put it short... tomorrow I would have had to swear my freedom away. No living being would ever be able to see my face again till the day I died," I laid it out plain and simple, and she seemed to understand.

"How old are you?" She asked, her trail of questions getting longer and longer.

"Sixteen tomorrow," I answered, feeling a bit more tired now that my eyes had been closed, and the lights in the bunk rooms were dim.

"You're just a baby," She scoffed. "How could they possibly expect you to make that choice so young?"

"It's just the way it's always been there. This is the way," I remembered. Those words used to be said to me nearly ten times a day, and now they only rung in my mind as a memory.

"That's insane. The people on your planet must be crazy to take an oath like that," She muttered.

"You would think so... the strangest part about it is that there are kids brought back as foundlings that take the creed without hesitation. They don't even belong to a bloodline, they just feel as though they have right to the creed as much as anyone else," I silently remembered Din for a moment. He was the bravest, strongest, most loyal Mandalorian I'd ever known. A foundling.

I began to get bitter at the thought of leaving him. He could have made things better for me if I had just given him a chance. I had to let my head get in the way. I needed to think about something else.

"What about you, huh? Where you from?" I asked, changing the subject as quickly and painlessly as possible.

"Alderaan. Born and raised," She said, getting up from the floor and dropping herself on the bottom bunk.

"You been a lot of places since then?" I asked, but she first let out a heavy sigh before speaking.

"Only too many to count," She said, settling herself on the bunk like I had done.

"Must be nice..." I muttered. Finally able to relax on this pathetic excuse for a bed pad. Of course I couldn't complain. I'm the one who chose the life of the rebellion, including their miserable bedding. "I've never been anywhere outside my home planet until now. I haven't even seen the entirety of my own planet."

"Most new comers are the same. They haven't been anywhere else, then they come here and its like we're moving non stop. Base to base, on just about every planet in this galaxy," She reassured. At least now I didn't feel so out of place.

"How long have you been stationed here?" I asked, unsure of how long I would get to adjust to things.

"A few months. It's likely we'll have to leave soon. There's rumors of the imperials knowing our location," She answered, rolling her eyes, thought I couldn't see from the top bunk.

"You're kidding," I scoffed. After just getting here, I might have to up and leave again. I'll have to learn to accept this new life, it's what I wanted.

"I wish I was, kid," She added.

"I have a name," I retorted back, not a fan of the nickname 'kid'. I waited for her to ask me what it was, but when she stayed silent I sighed. "It's Y/n."

"I'll call you what you are... now get some rest, they'll come pounding on that door in a few hours for orientation," She said, as though she somehow had grown to a habit of mothering me only five minutes after we met. I dropped the conversation and drifted off to sleep, my eyes were too heavy to keep open anymore anyway.

.

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A/n: okay so like i wrote this a while before everything with gina carano happened and i do not in any way condone her whatsoever so let's pretend she's been recast already...