#i am here for writing partners

[alphacrone]

"he would not say that" except it's "they would NOT use/go by that nickname"

[littleplantfreak]

For good luck

Two leaders leave their partners to go to battle - not without a token of their love though

or to put it less dramatically, you give Choji and Ume something for good luck before a fight (separately)

SFW anddddd no other warnings ig

Characters: Umemiya Hajime, Choji Tomiyama

Tomiyama Choji

You're holding two cards left in this UNO match and one happens to be a draw 4. Just as you're about to put in down on the pile, Togame walks into the room carrying Choji's jacket.

"Sorry to interrupt, but it's about time for that fight, Choji." He looks to you apologetically and your boyfriend looks at the clock on the wall.

"Uno," you place your second to last card down and he looks back to the pile.

"Again?" Choji whines drawing four into his now ten card pile. It isn't the first time this round you had him drawing stacks of cards. You think he might just be incredibly bad at the game given how often you win.

"When you get back, the color's green," you say faking grumpiness at the fact that he's leaving right before you secure victory.

"If I win can it be red?" he pouts and furrows his brow. It's his equivalent of puppy dog eyes that he pulls out at least once a day, so although he looks adorable, nose all scrunched in upset, you're used to this ploy. There is no mercy in UNO and he knows that.

"You know you're going to win, and no, it's green." His cheeks are puffed out like a hamster as he puts his jacket on, but his mood switches up and suddenly he's the trusted leader of Shishitoren, ready to lead his guys into their next brawl. He still silly and excited, your little lionheart, as he gets pumped up to fight, but he's a little more serious too. "Choji." Never one to want to interrupt when he's about to go all out, but knowing it wouldn't feel right to let him leave like this, you're standing, waiting for him to remember the small tradition you two began in the beginning of your relationship.

The first time you ever sent him off to a fight, you were so nervous even Choji could tell. He'd said you were really lucky, so if you squeezed him as hard as you could the luck would rub off on him like a charm. You weren't really lucky, but you knew he was practically unbeatable if what Togame told you was to be believed. It did also calm your nerves, so you elected to always send him off this way just in case.

"I almost forgot my hug!" He spins and runs into you, grabbing you in an embrace.

"Big squeeze!"

"Even bigger squeeeeze!" Stretching your words to prolong the hug, you both release the insanely tight holds you had on each other. He's out of the door before you can say anything else, Togame close behind.

Leaving the cards on the stage of the Ori you were playing on earlier, you decide to make a quick trip to the store for snacks. Surely they were gonna be hungry when they got back, right?

Umemiya Hajime

"I'll hold down the fort while you guys are gone," you say, not looking up from the song book. Your boyfriend is the last to leave after hearing there's a fight outside the Karaoke Bar on Keisei Street. Nakamura and his gang were surely already there taking care of whatever troublemakers showed up, but your Furin boys couldn't hear the word fight without running towards it.

"Babe," his voice is strained as he's ready to head out. "can you...y'know?"

"Can I what, Hajime?" You put on an unaffected act, but it's not one you can hold for long. He taps his cheek as he bends towards you, a little bashful now that you're actually looking his way. "What do I get in return for giving you all my hard-earned luck hm?"

"My everlasting love and affection princess," he says bending his knee in front of you in an equally regal display. He places a small kiss on your hand and sees you crack a smile despite your initial play of indifference.

"How could anyone pass up an offer like that," you giggle, giving your prince a good luck kiss on the corner of his mouth as by accident. "You'll get a full one after you're back and in one piece," a hint of warning in your voice as you send him off. You hate when he comes back hurt, even if he says it's not that bad and that you really should see the other guy. A heavy sigh leaves you as you're left alone for whatever amount of time it takes for your boys to return from battle.

Once they're back, more people than had initially left showed up. It seems some of the Roppo-ichiza group heard there was karaoke and decided to tag along dragging some new faces into the room, not that you mind. Umemiya pops in while everyone is saying their hellos and takes his seat next to you again.

"You're back from war huh?"

"Yes ma'am! Can I collect my kisses now?" He's extra clingy, feeling bad that he left you alone for even a short while.  You can see no one is really hurt from the fight save for a few bloody knuckles and swollen cheeks. Ume himself only has a small bruise on his jaw and small cuts on his hands. "Gotta heal you first," you say putting your lips to his knuckles, your intention to kiss every injury being made clearer the farther along you progress. What he doesn't know as you're distracting him is that you've queue'd up 'baby shark' on the karaoke tablet about 20 times as payback for leaving you by yourself.

[lucydoodlessometimes]

Icon...

[oneluckydragon]

✨🌸 Sunshine on your skin, flowers in my soul 🌸✨

🌊🫧Summary → In the midst of his reconciliation with Team Wish, Dusknoir begins coughing up flowers. This unfortunate brand of bad luck should be a cosmic joke. A spiteful punishment that the world has brought down on him out of malice, out of vengeance for his past deeds. A cruel, agonizing curse manifested with the single unjustified purpose of preventing him from realizing happiness, ever seeking redemption, ever righting his multitudes of wrongs and moving on with his life. But that's not true, and he knows it deep down. Knows it in the very core of his soul like the flood of petals building in this throat.

This is his fault because he is a coward, and that's all he has ever been. A backstabbing, lonely coward.

And now he is going to die because of it.

[AO3]

[CH. I -- Word Count -- 13,290]

🌒💫 Return → the act of going back to a place, person, or memory

[CH. II -- TBA]

[therentyoupay]

im completely feral over all your jelsa stories!!!!!! do you ever write established relationship jelsa or have any headcanons about what they would be like together in a serious relationship or marriage????

THANK YOU SO MUCH. 😭😭😭😭😭😭💕💕💕💕🙏 thank you thank you nonny for this super sweet ask and this really lovely question and all of your love and support!! 💕💕💕💕💕

i have... never actually written established!relationship (in any fandom), now that i'm thinking about it? that said, i guess i can come up with a quick list of some headcanons, maybe? 😂 i will have to think about this more, but for now, here's a quick drop:

elsa is an early riser; elsa helps jack create more sustainable sleeping patterns and habit formations 😂

when jack gets Impetuous Urges to Do Something Rash and Impractically Spontaneous, elsa will ground jack, reminding him to think before acting. (he occasionally Still Does It, anyway.) elsa knows what she signed up for, lol.

jack loves to play Harmless(!) Pranks, just to watch elsa’s reaction. (he is no longer allowed to sneak up on her after The Incident).

they also quibble over the definition of "harmless" and the specific logistical implications of that; for a while, jack was banned from further pranking, but then he got more creative at showing elsa that pranks could be wholesome and genuine, in which they could both be in on the joke. however, due to elsa's deeply-rooted Need to Excel and her (Not-so)Secret Competitive AF Streak, her retaliation in escalating the Cleverness Prank War quickly resulted in jack's prompt implementation of the Prank-Free Zones and Time Periods. (no, he was not scared.)

elsa, usually reserved, has learned to let her playful side show more often with jack. she might still pretend to be exasperated by his antics, but sometimes it's part of the game (or habit).

elsa sill struggles with opening up emotionally sometimes, but she progressively feels safe enough to share her innermost thoughts and fears. with time, she confides in him more about her worries. she still never likes the idea that jack sees her Imperfect Parts, but at least she can tolerate the discomfort (and, yes, take comfort in it) now

(jack loves elsa's Imperfect Parts, and jack admits that he is Weirdly Proud and Competitively Honored to be one of the only people, even including anna, who gets to see them. he also is strangely Comforted and Validated that elsa is, in fact, not perfect because for a while there, he was pretty freaked out and intimidated by how fancy she is.)

until he realized that no one ever let her actually be a Weirdo before, and once he realizes the Truth of Elsa Also Being a Secret (albeit perhaps more Subdued) Weirdo, the Universe Aligns.

jack listens to elsa's Big Conversations intently, activating varying levels of Serious Mode.

jack is getting better at recognizing the moments when elsa needs him to play and needs him to listen or Give His Opinion or any combination of those things.

jack learns that it's not always about Saying the Right Thing (which he is not very good at, anyway, or so our Serially Unreliable Narrator thinks), but rather being able to read elsa's mood and anticipate what she might need (even if she is not aware of it herself yet).

elsa is meticulous about planning and preparing for special occasions.

elsa likes traditions! jack likes tradition only because elsa likes them, lol, and hey, okay, these are more fun than he thought?? (who knew fun could be organized??!!?)

so he really wants to show (off to) her by pulling off Incredible Planning Feats in her honor, too (they do not go as smoothly, lol).

jack will often go out of his way to spontaneously create something meaningful, a moment or a gift or a gesture, that reminds elsa that he cares. he is big on words of affirmation, gift giving (but like, souvenirs that he collects on adventures like, "i saw this rock and it reminded me of your cousin olaf, we should put it on the window after we paint his face on it"), and acts of service, as well as physical touch and quality time. HE WANTS LOVE. he wants TO BE LOVED. he wants to prove that he is worthy of being loved.

(and elsa has to get him to Chill Out sometimes, remind him that he doesn't have to Do Things For Her/Anyone in order to be deserving of care; he is more than what he provides for other people.)

(jack gets its, and appreciates it, but also, the Urge to Provide and Protect is still strong, even after so much time, and sometimes Old Habits Die Hard.)

i get the sense that he'd be the type to he wake elsa up in the middle of the night to take her on a surprise adventure, or convince her to Do a Fun Thing without any preparation (/warning).

and she would Be Alarmed at the Lack of Plan (especially if/when jack Did Not Think This Through), but he also took precautions to ward off Concerns by pacifying her with tea, or reassurances that yes, he did call ahead to make sure the restaurant was open before they left the house, of course he did, he would never just leave home without double-checking beforehand (and frantically googles it two minutes later when he thinks she's not looking; she is, naturally, and even occasionally pretends not to be).

elsa approaches conflict with a desire to resolve things Calmly and Logically. she tries to understand jack’s perspective, even when she disagrees, and she’s careful with her words, not wanting to escalate the situation.

however, she can sometimes withdraw emotionally, fearing that she might say something hurtful if she’s too overwhelmed.

jack was initially (and, honestly, still is, even though he understands more now) hurt by her tendency to shut down when she Feels Too Much, and understands (although it's still hard) that elsa needs time to process her feelings and organize her thoughts.

jack also helps elsa actually Feel her Feelings, instead of just trying to intellectualize and analyze them. (she hates it, BUT sees the value. jack lives for these moments in which he realizes that he's actually contributing positively to her life and helping her in some way, rather than just being a burden or a nuisance, as was/is his fear.)

his initial reaction might be to push for a resolution quickly, but he’s also deeply afraid of Creating Distance between them, so after the first few fights, he really makes an effort to find the right balance between Pushing Hard Enough and Not Pushing Too hard, so that he doesn't drive a wedge between them as they work things out.

jack FEELS intensely, and can be so stubborn. he does not always have the most precise vocabulary or tools to describe his thoughts and feelings, or identify the root causes of what is actually going on inside him; sometimes elsa asks a lot of insightful and guiding questions that help jack come to the conclusions himself, and other times, she Puts Into Words the very thing that he had been thinking or feeling, but could not name, and it is very reassuring to have someone who understands him well enough to be able to do that.

after conflicts or arguments, they take time to Decompress and reassure one another (especially if at least one of them, if not both, was Overthinking again).

when they argue (and healthy couples do, remember!), it’s a dance of patience and understanding: elsa might need a moment to Collect Herself, and jack learns to give her that Space while also making it clear that he’s ready to talk whenever she is, and that he is going to try very hard to be Rational and Patient About It.

in the end, they both prioritize their relationship over any disagreement, always finding a way back to each other.

[landfilloftrash]

someone. on tiktok. is making a youtube presentation. about how the original resident evil 4 merchant is obsessed with leon and im going. to eat a dresser. i need that on my desk by yesterday

[good-beansdraws]

Mutual left this tag on one of my Fuuta analyses and yeah...

Part two of "Fuuta’s central theme is invasion of privacy and he has extreme anxiety over being watched, so it's interesting that we get to pick him apart and see all his worst, most private thoughts" :(

[hkblack]

Let me tell you a story...

It starts in the summer of 2021. Honestly it probably starts a little before that. 2020 through 2022 ish are a bit hazy because there was a lot of sitting around at home doing nothing.

Somewhere in that haziness my partner goes “wait, you haven’t watched this Good Omens show yet? And you haven’t read the book? … oh no. You should do that.”

And immediately after finishing the show I knew I was in trouble. I knew if I read the book I would absolutely fall down the fandom rabbit hole and be trapped, and so for a very long while, I didn’t. Until I did.

And then in August 2021, I wandered into fandom. I had been lurking. Seeing what AO3 had to offer. Crawling back onto Tumblr. But I had a story idea, and I needed a beta reader. And the last time I was in fandom, LiveJournal was still a thing, so I didn’t know where to go.

I found out about Discord, and I signed up for a thousand servers, it felt like, and in one server I bravely started sticking my neck out.

There was talk about someone writing a Human AU on a farm, and farm animals in general, and I chimed in about goat-scaping. And then I made the joke that would seal my fate.

“I don’t know if I could write a kid fic, but you know. I could write a kid (goat) fic.”

It was meant to be a short, sweet, meet-cute. Professor Aziraphale has a goat from the goat scaping team break into his office. Based loosely on a campus experience where a member of the goat-scaping team at a campus I was on tried (and failed) to get into a classroom once.

A simple formula. Maybe a 4+1? 4 times a goat broke into Professor Aziraphale Fell’s office, and one time it didn’t.

I even found the first beta reading request. First chapter done, I’ve got four more planned. Rated T.

Ha.

I started writing Chapter 5, you know, the final chapter, and realized—there’s more to this story. These characters have life, and story, and who doesn’t want to see more goats? Also, had I truly fulfilled the “kid-fic” portion of my joke?

I think we can all agree that no, no I hadn’t.

So, I kept writing. But I also found my stride in other Discord Servers and in Fandom in general. And in the winter of 2021, I went on a beta-reading blitz for the Gift Exchange happening in the Do It With Style Events Discord server. I read something like 14? 15? stories in a very short amount of time and in doing so, got to know some really amazing people and began to carve out my spot in the community.

From this server I found folks with lived goat-experience who were willing to share and advise me. From this server I found beta readers and brit pickers willing to cheer me on and guide my writing to the best version it could be. I found friends and joy and I found community.

And if you look very carefully through the pages of Bleating Hearts, I think that at its heart, past the puns, past the obvious fast burn love story, and the crooked Luce Matin and demanding James Starr, and even beyond the goats, it’s a story about finding your place in a community. While we talk about Aziraphale and Crowley and their relationship, so many people have asked me about Anathema and Crowley at the chicken coop (we only got to see Newt and Aziraphale in the bedroom). The most commented on scene is Anathema pulling the car over and getting Aziraphale’s consent to go to Tracy’s for lunch.

It's a story with goats, romance, and drama. But it’s a story about community.

I have thanked the people most involved a thousand times over, and I will always take an excuse to thank them again. @ambrasue, my ride or die beta reader. She is who to thank for the sentences making sense. And for me not beating you all over the head with the word “Gently.” HolRose, for the Brit-Picking and second pair of eyes when Ambra and I had gone cross-eyed, and always, always, always having a kind comment ready to go for every chapter update. @writingordinaryrealities, for all things Goats, and for not laughing at me when we met in person and I lost my cool over real life goats.

@mirjam-writes! Mirjam made me my first ever fanart for one of my fanfics! And so many more of you have followed suit and I never know what to say when I see it but I always make a noise and run excitedly to my partner and flap my hands and show him his heart and he always gets the dumbest smile and goes, “I love when people make you goat fanart. You are adorable when you’re verklempt.”

But also, the DIWS and Good Omens community. Every single person who shouted at one of my snippets when I needed a boost and shared a bit of what I was proud of. Every single person who tagged me in a goat video—you all have tagged me in so many goat videos. I watch each and every one of them. Every single person who got excited when I said I was finally ready to start posting.

Because you see, that support, that community, led me to pay it forward. At TIC4 in 2023, I had just finished my panel on beta reading and was feeling a bit amped up. I saw in the chat that someone wanted to talk Slow Show and Human Aus and, I don’t know if y’all know this, but uh, I’m a big fan of human AUs. And so I hopped into the break out room and met J.

J is a lovely human who has been fandoming since the OG Star Trek days with Kirk and Spock. She had found a physical copy of Slow Show and just needed to talk to someone, anyone about it. She wasn’t sure what the Archive was, she was still learning her way around digital fandom, and I instantly wanted to reach out and help her find community and joy the way I had when I got started in the fandom. So, I sat down and I gave her my favorites. I told her how to find me on socials. We connected on Discord. We sent each other long letters back and forth on Discord sharing our joys and frustrations and our love of GO and talking about all sorts of other things. And it has been amazing listening to her stories and getting to know her.

Unbeknownst to me, J had reached out to @brunheiffer to ask for a physical copy of Bleating Hearts. Now—I’m all for fandom in the physical space, but it’s never even crossed my mind to do more than something printed out at my home printer, hastily hole punched, and shoved into a binder so I could sneak fanfiction reading time during 5th period math class after I was done with my worksheets many, many, many moons ago. When brunheiffer reached out and asked if they could print and bind a copy for me—I didn’t know what to say. Or do. Or think. I think I keysmashed? I keysmashed after I made my partner read the message out loud. And then I went and looked through tumblr and all of brunheiffer’s excellent work. And then I went, “Do I say yes?” and he went “um YES OF COURSE YOU SAY YES. WHAT”

So, I said yes.

I also said yes to progress shots and got to watch some of the coolest work ever. I didn’t know how books…ya know…booked. Witchcraft probably? I’m still convinced there is witchcraft involved, but there is also an incredible amount of skill, and time, and patience, and hard work, and love that is put into making a book a book. And learning what I did, and watching the process, and seeing the care that brunheiffer put into each of the three (THREE!) sets of books that were made (one for me, one for brunheiffer, one for J), was just stunning.

Do you know, J reached out to me and apologized for not asking me first and asked me if it was okay that she had reached out and asked if brunheiffer would do this for her? Why would I ever be against something so heartfelt and kind?

I cried.

I legitimately sat in my office and cried.

When people ask me how I write the way I do, or why I write, or anything along those lines. I have the same answer. “I write for myself.”

Oh sure, I started to write Bleating Hearts to make Ambra laugh and/or have feelings, but at the end of the day, when I write, it is because I need to get the bed time stories I tell myself at night, the day dreams while sitting on the bus, out of my head and somewhere else—so that a new movie can play. And when I write, I write knowing that I will come back to that story. That I will forget the little pieces (because I have a pretty shit memory tbh), and I’ll be able to go back, and wrap myself up in the comfort of the story I have written, and be surprised by some of the little details I left as presents for myself. And be excited. And be happy. And watch my favorite movie again.

So every time I see someone make art of this story, or talk about how they love the story, or how happy it made them, or the feelings it inspired, or how reading goats made them want to write their own fanfiction—I get, well, like my partner says, “verklempt.” I don’t know what to do with that feeling, other than to just be overwhelmed that somehow something I made to entertain me has brought other people so much joy. Has helped people connect and find community.

What a powerful and beautiful thing that is.

Not everything I write is going to be Bleati—y'all I am just going to call it Goats. Calling it Bleating Hearts feels so weird. It’s Goats. That’s the name of the story. That’s my name for the story.

Anyway.

Not everything is going to be Goats. I’ve got some wips in the hopper right now that are um…lots of angst and heavy spice. Not everything I write is going to be liked by everyone. Some of it may even offend you.

But knowing that this one thing has inspired you all to the point that I’ve been gifted the ability to hold my story in my hand?

That’s powerful.

And it only exists because this community, this Good Omens community, has come together and chosen joy.

There’s some bad apples out there, there are in every bunch. But I am liberal with my block button and have been blessed to find a welcoming and warm community that creates some amazing and incredible art—whether that’s like actual like digital or pen to paper art, or the fiction you write, or the podfics you record, or the meta analysis you write, or the playlists or the animatics or the beta reading or the shouting unhinged support or the role playing or the plushies, or the books you bind—this community is full of incredibly creative and amazing people.

So thanks, y’all, for letting me part of your community, and enjoying my silly little goat fic. And thank you brunheiffer and J for this amazing gift.

If you haven’t read it, or just want to reread it, you can read Bleating Hearts (GOATS) on Archive of Our Own.

All my love,

HK

(I am the most cringe sap on main right now. No regurts)

[cosmicdahlias]

AAAAAAA SO THIS HAPPENED A COUPLE OF DAYS AGO AND I TOTALLY FORGOT TO SHARE BUT I’M IN ED TREATMENT AND EVERYONE AT THE CENTER KNOWS I WRITE SMUT AND SOMEONE TOLD THE GUY WHO RUNS THE WRITING GROUP AND NOW I’VE BEEN INVITED TO SHARE IT AND LITERALLY ALL OF THE THERAPISTS WANNA JOIN IN WHAT THE HELL IS HAPPENINGGGGGG

[clover-46]

the writers on here making the miguel fics need to remember his fangs inject paralytic venom hes not a real vampire it was just a joke in the movie 😭

oh but i still want him to bite me don’t get me wrong idgaf if they have venom 🤷🏾‍♀️🤷🏾‍♀️

[stillresolved]

.

[onehundredandeleventropicalfish]

there's so many del conversations i really fucking love and wanted to put my own spin on before we get an officially cast delirium, so starting off with this fun one from kindly ones!

(i have also started a del themed tiktok bc i have a lot more audio/video stuff in the works, so if you're interested you can find this video cross-posted here)

[nbmudkip]

rehyperfixating on a children’s game that came out in 2015, is one of the least popular entries in its series, and has minimal content, the vast majority of which i’ve seen before. the series has been dead for nearly 10 years, nothing has happened recently that would warrant anyone’s returning interest in it, very few of my friends give a shit about this specific game, and those few who played and liked it in the past have no reason to give a shit about it at all right now. i have been coasting through on a playthrough i’ve been doing with a friend who’d never seen the game before and who was kind enough to let me show it to them, but we just beat the game, and after we play the epilogue we will have nothing left to do, and on top of that they really have just been humoring me as they have their own very strong current hyperfixation they would much rather be thinking about. also i am depressed enough right now that literally nothing else except for waiting to play this game with them and playing this game with them and watching them enjoy it at least a little has been able to briefly quiet the constant cacophony in my head screaming how much of a worthless, lazy, constantly-failing miserable excuse for a living person i am and how much better everything would be, especially for myself, if i stopped existing lately. would anyone like to volunteer to 🔨💥⚒️Kill Me With Hammers🔨💥⚒️ because i would really like for someone to 🔨💥⚒️Kill Me With Hammers🔨💥⚒️ right now

[necrotic-nephilim]

Fandom: DCU (Comics) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Underage Relationships: Tim Drake/Dick Grayson, Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne, Tim Drake & Damian Wayne Characters: Dick Grayson, Tim Drake (DCU), Damian Wayne Additional Tags: Omega Dick Week (DCU), Omega Dick Grayson, Alpha Tim Drake (DCU), Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Reverse Robins, first heat, Tim Drake is Red Hood, Dick Grayson is Robin, Damian Wayne is Nightwing, Porn With Plot, Mildly Dubious Consent, Degradation, Multiple Orgasms, Knotting, Bratting, Dirty Talk, Begging, Pre-Flashpoint (DCU), Dacryphilia, Overstimulation, Batkids Age Reversal, Imprinting Summary:

Dick doesn't expect to have his first heat like this. He doesn't expect to have a first heat at all.

But when he presents around Tim Drake, the Red Hood he's been clearly warned to stay away from, he imprints on Tim and Dick will do anything to be near him. Sometimes, flirting with danger is worth the price.

-

Omega Dick Week 2024 - Day 1: Reverse Robin | First Heat

[the-silver-chronicles]

Kinktober Day 22 & 31: "Breeding Kink" & "Aftercare" - For OTP: "Boa Lurking In The Bliss" (Silva Omar x Faith Seed)

Tagged by @socially-awkward-skeleton @imogenkol and @josephseedismyfather

Tagging @adelaidedrubman @raresvtm @derelictheretic @inafieldofdaisies @noodlecupcakes @direwombat @voidika @cassietrn @aceghosts @icecutioner @shallow-gravy @strangefable @statichvm @cloudofbutterflies92 @carlosoliveiraa @wrathfulrook @ladyoriza @la-grosse-patate @thewanderer-000 @omen-speaker @alypink @shellibisshe @josephslittledeputy @skoll-sun-eater @g0dspeeed @afarcryfrommymain @strafethesesinners @turbo-virgins and @florbelles + anyone else who want to join.

Prompt based on this kinktober post made by fellow mutual @starsandskies. While the main Kink of this post is "Breeding" and "Aftercare", you'll find it also includes ones such as "Praise", "Oral", "Biting" and a little bit of "Dirty Talk".

Hey everyone, here's my second and last contribution to Kinktober for this month. Here's a oneshot devoted to the main couple of the Far Cry section of The Silver Chronicles; Silva and Faith as you've probably guessed. From the mature tag and the title you can probably already tell that this oneshot (which will also be uploaded onto my AO3 as well) contains explicitly sexual content meant for 18+ users only. Minors Do Not Interact!

Here's a few warnings as to what this oneshot contains:

CW: Shameless smut, Minor angst, Cunnilingus, slight vaginal fingering, slight teasing, stroking a dick to erection (I don't think a handjob necessarily fits the context because Faith doesn't let Silva cum), P in V sex, unprotected sex, gentle sex, creampie, Silva's kind of unsubtle breeding kink and both women's obvious praise kinks. Includes a lack of contraceptives here (not the fault of either women, Kamski's flaw was that he thought Silva would be like him, miserable and single (neither words correlate nor share a connotation connection with each other here) and also doesn't take into consideration that majority of people don't think like him) and discussions of (getting) pregnancy. Plus the unspeakable horror of including the vaguest hint of a plot in a smut oneshot.

But also enthusiastic consent!

Okay now for the ONLY two Trigger Warnings: Minor reference to past religious and child abuse. These aren't the center focus of the oneshot and aren't explicit either, but these are something that are at the very least inferred (I hope that's the right word) to during Silva's POV thought process in the beginning, but not during the smut itself. I only make these warnings because it's better to be safe than sorry.

You may also notice Faith is a little different (possibly) personality-wise, and I imagine its because of being influenced by certain characters (like say... Sharky and the Drubmans (mostly Adelaide)) and this is set many months post-game and Collapse, and both she and Silva (plus Azriel) have taken shelter in Silva's prepper bunker, so I imagine at this point a certain level of character growth and change has occurred. I’ve also given a short personal explanation in the tags as well.

Author's Final Edit: I've been working on this nonstop for four weeks, at differing states in mind but refused to leave it unfinished, so apologies in advance if it's not that good or even a little rushed (as you can likely tell it's no longer October) than what I originally planned. Anyway gonna post this now and hope for the best.

I'll be sure to reblog this post with the link to the one that'll be posted on my AO3. Anyway, enjoy the fic under the cut:

Title: This Sweet Leisure

Series: The Silver Chronicles (Far Cry 5)

Character/s: Silva Omar (Deputy OC), Faith Seed, Azriel Omar (mentioned OC), Irene Neon (past referenced OC), Persephone Neon (past referenced OC), Elsa Omar (past referenced OC), Kamski Neon (past referenced OC), Tracey Lader (referenced) and Father Adam Omar (Barely referenced OC and thank the Gods, he's super dead).

Words: 7,734

Quiet moments had never been something Silva thought she could afford to enjoy.

She was familiar with various forms of quiet though. Many of which denied her comfort, including peace, or even leisure.

She had experienced a cold kind of quiet throughout her youth. It was tense and foreboding, a wordless warning hanging over their heads like the ill-omen of a guillotine. The only sounds allowed were the roaring winds of a wrathful blizzard outside and the slight clinking of plates and utensils shared between two quivering hermanas.

She had spent many nights as a child in a quiet that was always too quiet. That was the worst kind of quiet for Silva. Dread left her restless, sleep evaded her like the answers she constantly prayed for, haunted by anticipation as she listened for the recognizable signs of Father's approaching footsteps outside her bedroom door...

But the most familiar quiet she's known would be that of loss and mourning. The moments where silence would replace where there should be joyous laughter, or whispered promises, or the normalcy of conversation.

Where she expected a small form to run around the house once she exited her room, her little one's delighted giggles filling the room as her ginger bangs bounced from her enthused race... she found nothing and the heaviness would weigh down on her heart once more.

She would spend periods lamenting on each and every loss, whether it be family, friends, her amor or her beloved hija.

When trapped in this quiet, her mind would betray her... always following the same maze in the labyrinth of her thoughts, with each memory visited and revisited while she punished herself for the grave inescapable sin of not being strong enough, fast enough, doing enough.

Simply put, the quiet moments remind her of how no matter what, she'll never be enough to keep those she cared for. She found no escape through sleep either; her imagination was often the most cruel.

Punished by constant night terrors, which only grew more frequent from there.

Perhaps that is why she enjoyed the action, those fast-paced minutes that squandered on hours. The wars, the fighting, the very act of survival, the violence she despised, justifying her use of it as necessary and right.

The very same violence that took pieces of her until she was nearly hollow from the high. But at least she couldn't feel anything but the emptiness afterwards... distracted from the grief.

What a twist of fate that, at the end of the very collapse of society, all she could have would be quiet moments. For approximately seven years, she would have to live in the very bunker she had dismissed as a paranoid and needless precaution, even for the likes of Silva herself.

In spite of this, she had kept it well-maintained. At least to honor one of Elsa's lasting gifts to her.

And even though Elsa and Persephone were long gone from her life, Silva would be forever grateful of it since it had saved the last two of her most precious remaining loved ones; Faith and Azriel.

It was a rough few months at first, for herself especially, but they made it work. A routine had been set up, tasks given for each of them, and both Faith and Azriel seemed to have put aside their animosity, for the sake of Silva at least.

Silva, though prohibited from putting too much strain on her muscles, had recovered enough to do the laborious tasks that the other two were unable to do, as well as keep track of their inventory, rationing the power and water they were using, keeping track of the days by making calendars (at least enough so they have a fraction of an idea of when they should leave), keeping the only functional clock left out of Azriel's reach, general cooking and proceeding with Azriel's education (and ensuring her pequeño inventora utilizes the parts they don't need for her machinations).

Usually these tasks were completed with the assistance of both Faith and Azriel.

Faith utilized the knowledge she retained from the Eden's Gate to correctly double-check and correspond with the information Silva gave, as well as support a garden from within the bunker that gave them all fresh fruit and vegetables besides the preservatives, aided Silva in Azriel's education with subjects Silva had less expertise in and was the only person in the bunker with any specialization in medicine, besides Silva's apparently redundant strategy of "ignore the problem until it starts affecting you personally" or "only treat problem when close to the nearest convenient bandage, stitches or medic".

(Silva could admit Faith had a point about her reckless behavior).

Azriel's days were mostly spent assisting Silva, or Faith when the girl chose to stop detesting the other woman. She attended her "classes", whether it be academical or practical, so she'd be as prepared as she could be for whatever was outside the bunker doors.

Azriel's hobby in engineering proved to be handy, with Silva and Faith both stumped on the workings of such a subject despite their reliance on the bunker's generator and water filter.

They'd have their meals together, and would often spend time in the same living space once their tasks were done. When it came to nightly routines, Silva would bathe Azriel herself, and would share her own shower with Faith as to not waste water.

Those moments were strictly kept tame, given Azriel's close proximity from the bedroom and the necessity of the water. However, Silva didn't mind, as she and Faith got to be closer, with hands touching the places neither wanted others to see. Their scars were only for them to admire, neither holding shame nor judgement as they took care of each other.

After cleaning off, Silva would put Azriel to bed in one of the spare bedrooms she had claimed for herself as Faith shut off any non-essential power for the night, before both she and Silva retired to their shared designated master bedroom.

That was where the quiet became more prominent.

It wasn't so bad; sometimes one or both of them would be able to drift off. Other times, sleep would evade them, and they just enjoyed each others company, sharing stories and jokes, their voices barely above a whisper. Often they'd talk about the plans for the next day, perhaps wonder about the future... or even confess their own fears, quelling doubts. A peaceful quiet.

There were few nights when these fears took form as nightmares, interrupting their rests. Such nights were spent comforting the other in an understanding silence, few words exchanged while they found warmth in each other's arms. A comforting quiet.

But those night terrors were becoming far and few as the months passed, and Silva found herself cherishing the quiet as much as she did the time spent with her little family.

Though months passed, there was a slight change from the routine, one night where Silva rediscovered a quiet she hadn't experienced in a long while, and would revisit the following weeks.

Although sexual intimacy wasn't a first for either Silva or Faith, after the Collapse, they prioritized the ensured function of the bunker, recovering from their own physical and mental wounds and Azriel's well-being over their passion. It was the practical thing to do in that situation.

However, so much time had passed since the Collapse had occurred, and though the intimacy they did share was cherished and fulfilling, there was a familiar desire that burned patiently; the want to be connected, the need to be closer, to make the other sing with pleasure, and to share their love and affection through one of the few ways they could.

After Silva tucked Azriel in for the night, she had returned to the master bedroom. Shutting the door behind her, she turned to the sight of Faith awaiting her by the foot of their bed.

Silva shared a soft smile with her amor, making her way over to Faith to give a nightly embrace and kiss before bed.

Faith had stopped Silva with a hand on her chest, green eyes looking deeply into grey as the former herald tried to put her desires into words.

"I want you," she said softly, a noticeable shade of light pink across her face with eyes full of a need that stole Silva's breath away, "Tonight. I want you, and I want to make you feel good."

Silva felt a burst of exhilaration invade her body, her nerves lightened up with renewed enthusiasm. The feeling only increased when Faith delicately held one of Silva's hands and brought it to her soft lips.

The kisses she pressed down onto the faded scarred tissue sent tingling signals throughout Silva's body, a pleased sigh escaping her lips as her cheeks darkened into a blush. Faith gauged Silva's reaction, her gaze anticipating her answer and yet pleading all the same, lips brushing against her sensitive hand.

Silva responded with a loving smile, using her spare hand to cup Faith's face, fingers caressing the skin like light kisses as she brought her own face closer.

"Si," Silva had acceded, connecting their lips, feeling the thrum of Faith's enthused hum. When breaking off the kiss, the former deputy stated, "Under one condition."

Faith visibly wet her lips, tilting her head into Silva's palm as she asked, barely above a whisper, "And what would that be?"

Silva smirked, and Faith waited with bated breath on Silva's response (but if she hadn't been so focused on Silva's answer, she'd notice beloved's grey eyes shined with a flicker of silver), bringing her chapped lips to ghost along Faith's ear, and purred, "I'll make you feel bliss first."

Faith broke into a grin, and wrapped her arms around her lover's neck as both of their desires heightened, lips caught in a dance before Silva took the lead.

While their tongues communed and tasted one another, Silva's hands wandered, brushing over Faith's dress and squeezing at certain areas to bring out those small noises she never gets to hear in any other moment.

She settled both her wandering hands at Faith's hip and culo respectively, giving a squeeze on both that elicited a surprised yelp from her amor, though a giggle soon followed after.

Silva retracted from the kiss as her hands reached the hem of Faith's dress, "Let's get this dress off, mi querida."

Faith only nodded as her hands joined Silva's to slip the dress off from over her head rather smoothly, freeing her perky breasts for only Silva's eyes to see. She pressed her hands onto the skin, how good and warm it felt under her touch. Her thumb grazed over a scar just under Faith's rib cage.

Her attention was deterred however by her amor's impatient fingers unbuttoning her shirt.

Silva followed suit, unbuttoning the rest of her dress shirt and shrugging it off. She reached for the strap of her bra behind her, but Faith ceased her struggle when she pressed her hands onto Silva's clothed breasts.

"Arms up, darling," Faith directed, and Silva saw the glimpse of the herald whose reputation commanded fear and respect from her foes. It sent an exhilarating shiver down the former deputy's body, feeling a twitch in her lower body as she followed her amor's orders.

Faith pulled the undergarment over her lover's head, tossing it away. Silva didn't bother to chide about the messiness, figuring it to be a issue she'll deal with tomorrow. In the mean time, she was too preoccupied with giving Faith's greedy hands access to feeling her swell chest up. She let Faith grope at her breasts, hands wandering all over her exposed upper half. Even in the darkness, Faith accurately pinpointed every faded scar there was on this portion of the Omar woman's body.

From her healed cuts and slashes, to the closed scarring from past bullet wounds, to her shoulders; the left harbored old burns, while the right was less clearer, though the texture of the skin was notably a shade lighter, if only slightly.

Silva hummed from the touches she received, massaging Faith's breasts in return. Faith gaped in pleasure, and Silva jumped at the opportunity to reconnect their lips, tongue inserted back in, this time to dominate.

Faith moaned into Silva's mouth, and the reverberation spurred Silva on. Her hands moved to behind Faith, she pulled the other woman's body against hers, their chests colliding. Faith's hands gripped at Silva's back, pushing herself against her lover to chase after the pleasure of grinding their breasts together.

Silva slowly lead Faith backwards to the bed, letting the foot of the bed buckle Faith's legs into sitting down.

Without hesitation, Faith spread her bare legs to give Silva a peek at the lacy white lingerie underwear, embroidered with a familiar pattern, that she had adorned for this occasion. Silva got the impression that her amor had been planning this for some time.

Silva wouldn't disappoint.

Though that pattern did look familiar-

Flowers. Of course, Silva noted in mild amusement.

Faith closed her legs together and dragged her underwear down, shimmying the flower-patterned lingerie down to her ankles, kicking them off to the floor. She opened her legs once more, displaying her nude, bare self for Silva's eyes to feast upon. The sight made Silva's crotch felt uncomfortably restrictive, but she restrained herself from taking her pants off and making love to Faith there and then.

Silva wanted to draw this out; she wanted Faith to feel the greatest heights of this high until she was fully satiated, as well as for herself too.

Caressing her amor's face, Silva's eyes lingered down to Faith's wet folds awaiting her, the light brown bundle of curling hairs layered at the top, and asked, "May I?"

Faith gave an eager and affirming nod, and Silva descended down to her knees until she was face to face with the younger woman's lower lips. Putting her amor's legs over her shoulders, Silva circled two fingers around her labia to stimulate more wetness and gather it onto her fingers, while her other hand's thumb gently brushed against her clit.

She heard Faith's breath hitch above, which made Silva temporarily halt, her eyes meeting green to wordlessly check on her pareja. Faith met her lover's gaze and returned an assuring nod. Silva took a breath and continued to tease her amor's slick pussy and clit, feeling a tug of pride within herself when she heard a soft airy sigh come from above.

Satisfied with the slickness, she inserted one finger inside, earning her a gasp and small moan from Faith. She massaged her index inside the warm insides before inserting a second finger to join the first, curling and gently twisting both as she proceeded to press a bit firmly on Faith's clit with her thumb.

Spurred on by the sounds of Faith's heavier breathing and soft moans, Silva gave a trail of kisses along both of her thighs, perhaps lightly sucking at the flesh to leave a mark or two where no one but both of them would see.

She carefully twisted her two slick-covered closed fingers to face her and opened them up in a V-shape, spreading her amor's vagina.

Silva leaned closer, breathing in her scent. The pungent tangy musk tinted with a hint of earthy sweetness to it. A floral scent really; not like the acrid sweetness of the Bliss though. That had long since been washed away.

Without wasting another moment, she pressed her tongue flat against Faith's vulva, licking it in a glide upwards until she reaches her clit.

Faith tasted like honey, with a hint of sourness that reminded Silva of yogurt. It was something surprising to discover; how different the taste was. She'd expected a metallic taste and bitterness not unlike coffee when she first went down on Faith, as she had remembered Irene's being, and the few women she had brief relations with holding a similar taste, but had been pleasantly unprepared for the flavor.

She continued to lap up the slickness, proceeding to explore with wide licks that swished around the folds of her amor's vulva, enjoying the sweet little noises she drew out and the feeling of Faith's legs shaking over her shoulders.

Silva hadn't expected Faith to cross her legs to pull her mouth closer, but the Omar woman held no complaints. She focused on flexing her tongue deeper inside, licking every nook and cranny.

Silva felt Faith's hand furl into her dark hair to keep the former deputy where she was, grinding herself against her lover's tongue. Silva hummed her appreciation into her amor's pussy, the vibrating sensation provoking a whimper out of Faith.

Feeling her lover's tongue retracting, Faith almost expressed her dissatisfaction with the lack of contact until Silva's lips enveloped around her swelling clit, lightly sucking as her tongue gently circled around it.

Faith choked out a cry as she felt Silva's two fingers re-enter to massage at her sensitive flesh. Lips parted, her moans didn't escape quietly, though it didn't discourage Silva from her relentless efforts to bring about Faith's high.

Silva heard Faith murmur out words incoherently yet consistently (though that may be due to the thighs squeezed around her head canceling out most noises), though was unable to inquire about it as she felt Faith's legs tense around her.

She had enough time to glance her eyes up to see Faith slightly arch her back before she felt the inner walls of her vagina constrict and spasm.

Silva had half-a-mind to have her mouth open when fluid squirted at her face. She lapped up the sweet sticky fluids as Faith rode her high out.

Leaving soft rewarding kisses around her amor's sensitive flesh and thighs, Silva began crawling up to trail her kisses along Faith's waist and stomach. She peppered her breasts, collarbone and neck with special attention, sucking on the skin to leave little marks.

She kissed along her jaw, face and settled on her lips. Face to face, Silva admired the flushed yet blissful expression that resided on her amor.

Breathing returning to a regular intake, Faith opened her green eyes to gaze into Silva's adoring ones.

"You look so beautiful right now amor," Silva complimented, lightly tucking a loose hair behind Faith's ear.

The Seed woman licked her lips, the smile on her face joined by a light blush from the praise. And though Silva meant what she said, she still had the need to confirm.

"Was that good for you, mi querida?" Silva asked softly, searching for any hint of potential discomfort from the young woman below her. Faith blinked at Silva, maybe touched by the concern, maybe in bafflement at the question. Though she proceeded to bring her head up to rest against Silva's own.

"It was wonderful. You ate me out so well my sweetheart," Faith assured with a pleased sigh. She proceeded to bring her lips to the shell of Silva's ear and whisper, "Now why don't you take those pants off? I can't be the only one naked here."

Silva gave an affirmative nod and obliged to Faith's request. Scooting to the side of bed, she pulled down her loose night pants, kicking them off at her ankles. She went to remove her boxers next, but Faith slipped up behind with wandering and electrifying hands that danced across her front.

Faith peppered light kisses along her neck, and softer ones to her old burn scars, which Silva appreciated. One stray hand palmed over the bulge throbbing against her boxers, massaging the member, earning a shameless moan from Silva.

"You're so good to me, Silva. Always accommodating. Putting my needs before yours," Faith revered warmly, massaging the stretching bulge that began to tent up at her boxers, eliciting a low groan from Silva, while Faith stated, "You're so full of love. And I'm happy to be someone you share it with. Which is why I want to make tonight special for you. To give my own love back to you, in the most intimate act together."

Silva bit at her bottom lip as she felt herself get harder at Faith's words, the kind and adoring words flustering the woman. She felt Faith reach into her boxers to pull out her erect cock. Freed from its confines, Silva didn't try to suppress the moan that rose in her throat when her amor curled one hand at the base and began to pump.

Precum leaked from the tip, and Faith brushed a thumb over it, spreading the slickness around the head. She reached down to gently massage at her scrotum to further tease her lover, receiving a choked yelp that morphed pleased groan. Satisfied with her work, Faith tugged at the boxers, with Silva pulling it down the rest of the way.

"Now for what I promised," Faith purred sultry, intertwining her hand with Silva, leading the compliant woman to crawl further onto the queen bed with her.

With both now bare and their hearts beating with a thrill, Faith took initiative, placing a halting hand onto Silva's chest to halt her approach and lightly push her down backwards.

"Can you sit for me?" Faith requested, flashing sweet honest pearls at her, and Silva nodded affirmatively as she followed suit, sitting down with her legs splayed out, her cock proudly pointed up as Silva's eyes traced ever bit of Faith's body.

She swallowed on nothing, wishing she could count the stars to mark a number down of how much she had been so unbelievably lucky to have not only meeting Faith, but get to be with her. And to keep her and Azriel safe, a small relieved voice spoke up, though it didn't last, You never were able to do that with anyone else.

Silva almost frowned at the thought, and briefly closed her eyes. What happened wasn't my fault. I did all I could in those moments, she reminded herself, defending against the guilt, just as Faith coached her.

She opened her eyes when she felt Faith's hands grasp onto her shoulders, her legs at both sides of her hips. Her wet entrance hovering above Silva's leaking head, though Faith paused as she cupped Silva's face into her hands, the next words she spoke sending a spike of pleasure through her veins, "I want you inside me."

Heart fluttering at the proclamation, Silva wanted nothing more than to obey, to be inside her amada and feel how she clenched around her, to murmur little praises into her skin as she just enjoyed having her amor in her arms. However, through the haze of love and lust, she had a realization, "I don't have condoms. I don't think there are any down here."

"Nor birth control," Faith informed her, green eyes gazing down, and Silva wanted to kick herself for not noticing when she did stock checks, "I checked the infirmary; it just wasn't included amongst the stock."

Silva could take a guess why. The infirmary had been an additional room inserted by Kamski himself without her permission. Though she was grateful now for his foresight, she felt an annoyance towards Kamski's paranoia overstocking the infirmary with supplies for illness, injury, surgery and even birth delivery, but was flippant about her chances of finding a new partner that he was he convinced her contraceptives wouldn't be necessary. By Jannah, why did I listen to him?

She brought a hand over one of Faith's own which still had her face cupped, thumb brushing at the knuckles. While Silva certainly wasn't against the idea of unprotected sex, especially if Faith gave her consent, under normal circumstances there would be a world with safety nets to fall back on if they decided to risk it.

However, they were stuck in a bunker, while luckily stocked for more than three people with food, medicine and other resources, it was without the contraceptives to avoid the high-risk results of the act.

She would love nothing more than to make love to Faith, to be inside her, to join her on the brink of their own bliss and just release. However, she knew of Faith's reservations, not to the act itself, but the potential consequences of said act.

Instead, she suggested, "If you really want to do this, I can try the pulling out, which does comes with risk. But we don't have to, we can do something else..."

Silva quieted down when Faith pressed a finger to her lips, shushing wordlessly. Faith smacked her lips together as she gazed at Silva with sincere affection.

"I appreciate that you're thinking of me, but there's no need to fret, my lotus flower," Faith said with a fond smile, running a hand through Silva's long dark hair, her green eyes full of a devotion Silva's doesn't believe she's seen on her before, not even with Joseph, not this intense and self-assured.

"But I made my mind up about this weeks ago," Faith informed her lover, an adoring smile blessing her face, "I want to feel you. And more importantly, I want you to feel good. I know you personally dislike the condoms. Not only that, but I know you'd rather not pull out. And yet you do those... all for me. And I'm flattered. Which is why tonight, I wanted to do this for you. No contraceptives... even if they ideally should have been optional... and no pulling out either. And whatever comes after this... I'm okay with it."

Silva blinked, not expecting this from Faith. Although she wanted nothing more to accept her words at face value, she still had to make sure, "What about what you told me? I thought you didn't want to risk-"

"I know what I had said. It was something I took time to think about too," Faith acknowledged, but her tone changed to something more impassioned, "But... my time spent with you and Azriel has made me reconsider. I know you. I trust you. Of all the people I was lucky to fall for, I'm glad it's with you. Because you won't abandon me. You'll be with me, through it all."

Faith's hands glided down to behind Silva's head and neck, bringing her beloved's face closer to her chest, adjusting Silva so her ear was to the skin.

"You hear that?" Faith asked above, her heartbeat thumping in a swift measured pace, and Silva only nodded, still a little lost until her amor explained, "That's my excitement at the thought of us giving in for tonight. Of us quivering and trembling in ecstasy, on the toe-curling edge until I milk you dry. That's what I want, but most importantly, I know that's what you want to do."

Silva felt herself burning up; from her head being in Faith's bosom? The lewd description she'd never expect Faith to use (Had she rubbed off on her somehow? The Drubmans and Sharky? Or had she always had this side of her? came the discord of thoughts) until this occasion? Or the admission that she not only knew of Silva's concealed desires, but wishes for her to act on them too?? Perhaps it was a combination, but Silva wasn't entirely sure.

Silva lifted her face to look into Faith's unabashed green eyes, finding no hint of doubt in those beautiful orbs.

"I want this. You want this. And we won't be unprepared," Faith assured, nuzzling her head into the nook of Silva's neck, hands residing at her back, "We have an abundance of supplies with everything needed for a full-term pregnancy, and the infirmary is ridiculously prepared with instructions and instruments ready for when the day comes. I know this is selfish... but I want to make something beautiful with you. To carry the culmination of our love within me. No more holding yourself back... take a leap, love. Put yourself first for once."

Silva chewed at her bottom lip as she felt her cock grow stiffer at the idea of succumbing to her base desires, and to join Faith through a union of their raw bodies, rutting into the warmth of Faith's inner walls until she released herself into her amada's womb, until she was sure Faith was pregnant.

Faith got her attention with a small kiss on the lips, green eyes staring straight into Silva's souls as she said her next words with utmost seriousness.

"I know how I sound, saying all these things to you, but here and now, I want you to understand that ultimately... it's your call, my lotus flower. If you don't want to risk it, I'll respect your decision. You're not obligated to do this, not even for me. I can do something else to have you reach your own high if you'd prefer," Faith offered, one hand reaching down to Silva's hard cock, stroking at the shaft, earning a pleased trill, "If you want to proceed, you already know I'm all for it. If you don't, I'll be happy with whatever decision you make. It's up to you."

Silva was grateful that Faith was willing to wait for her consent. She took the opportunity to think about it. She found Faith's points to be valid; they had an infirmary with information and instruments at the ready, the bunker was well-supplied, Silva has the experience to take care of Faith and their not-yet conceived child, she knows Azriel would be thrilled for a sibling and she had Faith's approval. Hell, she wanted to do it.

I want to do it, Silva realized, an anxious energy buzzing within her, I want to have a child with her.

Silva met Faith's gaze once more. Her bright grey eyes scanned Faith's green, and her hands moved up to rest on her amor's waist as she said, "I want to do it."

Faith's eyes blew open, delight filling her face, "Really? You mean it?"

Silva gave Faith a smirk that sent a shiver of exhilaration up the other woman's spine, "Si. Now mi amor, how do you like the sound of me cumming into you tonight?"

Faith's only response was a resounding, "Yes."

With a gentle tap from Silva, Faith proceeded to lower herself until her entrance met Silva's tip, grinding their sex together, the sensation causing Silva to gasp agape while Faith husked out a wanton groan.

Silva couldn't deny her own heart's elation at the feeling of Faith's slickness making contact with her own precum, mixing and leaking down her shaft.

Faith sunk until she enveloped the head of Silva's cock. The former deputy groaned at the sensation of Faith adjusting to her, her walls stretching and clenching around her. Faith masked her own moan as a pleased hum, hand bringing Silva's head to her collarbone.

Silva planted more kisses and small bites to decorate her skin as she delicately maneuvered Faith past her cock's head and down the shaft. Her amada rocked tenderly, rasping out breathy, needy moans as Silva's cock stretched her pussy.

Both women's breath hitched when Faith reached the base of Silva's cock, the latter once again adjusting to the former. For Faith, it felt warmer, and she felt fuller with Silva inside compared to when she wore the condom. Silva could feel her amor's slickness and heat, how she pulsed within her, how wonderful it felt to have Faith's walls clenched around Silva. It felt right.

Both held each other close, until Silva's knees rose up until they were behind Faith's back. She grabbed hold of her amor's legs, gaze bor into her green orbs, a determined look not unlike what Faith saw during the Reaping gracing Silva's features.

"Are you ready?" Silva asked one last time, giving Faith the chance to back out. Faith gave a thrilled, "Yes", her green eyes begging for more. Silva proceeded to ask, "You remember what word to use if things get too much for you?"

Faith nodded once more, recounting, "Tulip."

Silva gave a confirming nod, "That's right. Buena chica. Now stretch out your legs and lay back for me, mi amor."

Faith did as instructed, stretching her legs out and, with Silva's guidance, she locked them around Silva's waist. Faith proceeded to lean back onto the support of Silva's thighs.

Silva hooked one hand under Faith's culo, giving it a teasing squeeze as she leaned forward to bring her other arm around Faith's back. The former herald hooked one hand at the nape of Silva's neck while her other gave herself some support from behind, grasping onto Silva's leg to anchor herself.

She gave Silva an affirming nod to go ahead, and Silva tested the waters with a small thrust with a rock of her hips. Faith gasped out a lewd noise, and with another thrust, she let out a pleased hum at the contact, and as Silva thrust again and again at a steady pace, Faith began to pant out long, wanton moans while Silva breathed out grunts and husked out her own impassioned moans.

Silva continued to thrust into Faith as her amada continued meeting her thrusts with enthusiastic rocks, the wet sound of skin slapping against each other all that filled the room.

"You feel so good," Silva murmured in a drawl, and as she rocked her hips up into Faith's slick velvet walls, she let out a surprising growl, "Mierda, you're coño's perfect for me, Faith. I need to fill you up... I need to get you pregnant."

Faith let out an enthused titter, her gut recoiling with warmth like the hammer of a gun, and she teased, "Yeah? Is that what you're going to do, my lotus flower? Rut into my bare, unprotected pussy raw until you cum? Spill all your seed into my empty womb until I'm all nice and full? That's fucking hot. You're so sexy whenever you speak your mind. Gets me really wet."

Faith gasped as she felt Silva's thrusts quicken in pace, causing her body to rock from the jerky movement. Though Faith was not displeased by the change as her content moans and her sweet gaping features indicated.

Images flashed within Silva's mind while her sharp eyes lingered on Faith; the flat of her stomach swollen with life for Silva to cherish both with the hold of one hand. Her bouncing breasts full of milk, perhaps more swell and more sensitive than before. Silva was also fascinated by what Faith's stretch marks would look like, during and after the pregnancy, the beautiful markings long-lasting evidence of their joyous union. She remembered only briefly being able to admire Irene's post-birth marks a few days after Persephone was born.

Silva could feel herself reaching her end, she knew in the way her breathing grew strained, and her cock became stiffer and hotter. It was a familiar sensation, but here it was special, as nothing was stopping her from filling Faith up fully now.

"Faith, look at me, querida," Silva drew Faith's green eyes to retain direct contact with her grey, "That's good, mi amor. I'm glad to see your beautiful face. This is a moment in our bond I want to last. I'm close. I'm so close now. I'm going to cum inside you. And I'm going to get you pregnant. I want to hear you tell me you want it. I need to hear it."

So close to coming undone, Faith refrained from breaking their shared contact as she husked out, "I want this. I want to feel you cum inside me. I want to be full with your seed. I want to be pregnant with your child. I want all of you, Silva."

Silva felt herself tighten and her resolve to hold on break. With little strength, she wrapped her arms around Faith as her amada tightened her legs around Silva's waist, both pulled their sweaty bodies close to each other. Both clung to one another as the only lifeline, as Silva gave one last rock of her hips and their sexes spasm.

Faith's walls constricted and clamped around her cock in a creamy coat and milk up all that she unloaded inside. Faith wailed out a moan while Silva shouted in ecstasy. She gave a sparse few weaker thrusts, and felt Faith's walls throb followed by her amor cumming once more.

Both refrained from separating, catching their breaths within each other's arms, fingers playing with hair, breasts pressed against each other from each heave of their chests, basking in each other's mind-buzzing afterglow.

The embrace lasted until Silva lightly pressed a kiss on Faith's soft lips before she removed herself out of Faith, her member deflating and spent for the night. She laid Faith down on the blanket of the bed, who was recovering from the intense pleasure she experienced twice. With limbs still interlocked, she laid beside Faith's prone form.

"Thank you," Silva told Faith, the latter humming in question, dreariness weighing on her half-lidded eyes, so Silva elaborated, "For this. For letting me hold you, and kiss you, and taste you, and... make love. You made me feel so good. Tonight was just perfect."

Faith giggled, green eyes gazing into Silva's grey with adoration, "Of course, honey. You did amazingly too. I noticed you had a lot more enthused determination. Not that you hadn't before but... there was a more primal feel. I liked it."

Silva felt her face heat up from Faith's appraisal, feeling her cock twitch. It hadn't gone unnoticed by her amor; Faith bit at her bottom lip as she commented, "And with our new goal, we'll be doing this again for the next few nights, I'd hope."

Silva felt an excitement burn at the thought of doing this again, though it reminded her of some things she should do to help.

"I'll need to go get a new blanket from the linen cupboard since..." Silva trailed off as she looked at the damp spot, "...yeah. But in the meantime, we should have your pelvis raised a little higher to increase the chances of conception."

Silva couldn't recall where she gained that information from; whether it had been something Kamski had somehow brought up in conversation for whatever reason or something she had learned while reading for any information from the old medical textbooks they could scavenge to help Irene during her pregnancy with her firstborn.

Regardless, Silva grasped a pillow and placed it underneath Faith's lower back, to raise her hips slightly above. Satisfied, Silva asked, "While I'm out, is there anything you need? Snacks? Water? A cloth to clean up?"

Faith shook her head, but made a small grunt as she tried to clear her coarse throat, "Water, please."

Silva gave a smile, caressing her amada's face before getting off the bed, "I'll be back in a jiff, mi amor."

Silva peeked out of the room, searching for any signs of the familiar orange-streak across the dark hair of her hija, hoping she was still asleep in her bed and not awoken by the noise, even if their rooms were fairly dense.

Spotting no signs of her fellow night owl, Silva exited the room, and made her way to the linen cupboard for the new blanket, and then dashed to the kitchen to get Faith's water.

With the glass filled and blanket over her shoulder, she made haste back to the master bedroom.

Closing the door behind her, she made her way back to Faith back on the bed. She placed the blanket down by the foot of the bed while taking the chance to admire her nude form. Though she noticed how Faith's hand was placed below her stomach, lost in thought.

Silva got onto the bed with a creak, breaking her amor's attention train of though and bringing her attention back to her.

Offering a smile, Silva didn't immediately inquire, instead tapping the glass of water, which earned her a soft gaze of appreciation.

She helped Faith lean up from the bed, and passed the glass of water to her. Once her amor's throat was satisfied, Silva had Faith temporarily hop off the bed so she could remove the ruined blanket (which she placed by the door for tomorrow) and laid down the newer, softer blanket.

Once the bed was ready, both Silva and Faith crawled back onto the bed, huddling close. Neither put back on their nightwear.

Silva brushed her fingers through Faith's light brown hair with enthusiasm and adoration in her heart. Faith snuggled into the crook of her neck, one finger tracing aimlessly at Silva's back.

"Are you alright, amor?" Silva asked softly, concern rearing its head once more, though she had a fraction of an idea of what Faith would be thinking about.

Faith glanced her green eyes up at her, briefly holding contact before she nodded.

"Just thinking?" Silva pried gently, observing how her face made those little quirks, subtle twitches, halting furrows and the way her lips open partially before closing again.

Faith responded with a small and affirming hum. The vibration's contact against her skin, although short, eased her hammering heart.

"Want to talk about it?" She finally asked, swallowing any remaining nerves as she discerned Faith's expression towards the question. Does she have any regrets? came the question she was worried for the answer of.

Faith hadn't replied immediately, stewing in the silence as she gathered her words, and said, "I'm just... coming to terms with this. Wondering... maybe a little worried. I've made quite the spontaneous decision, no different than what I've done before."

From the top of her head, Silva could only recall three that she could be referring to; leaving home with Tracey, joining Eden's Gate and helping Silva and Azriel in their goals.

"Are you having... regrets?" Silva asked hesitantly, but knew it was important.

She was a little surprised when Faith snorted incredulously at it.

"No... not that at all. It's a choice I'm not backing down from," she answered fully looking up to her, bringing one hand to cup the side of Silva's face with tender affection, slowly nuzzling their foreheads together, "I'm just a little nervous is all. This is a new and rather big step I would never have considered in my life before meeting you and Azriel. But it is something I want to experience, as long as you're with me."

Relief flooded Silva's mind, washing away any lingering presence of the ugly guilt that tried to form.

"Besides, I liked tonight as much as you did. And I loved how you were too," Faith said as she "walked" two fingers all the way up Silva's chest to her lips, seductively brushing both over her lover's bottom lip as she leaned forward with a whisper, "And I'd hope to see more of that side of you last a few rounds in the night to come."

Silva joined her lips with her amor's, an unbridled smile curving up once again. I've been doing that a lot more recently, she noted, in spite of the sorrow she still feels for the loss of the world above.

Though that's not something she'd focus on as of now. She had better priorities she needed to attend to.

Disconnecting their lips, Silva replied, "I'll let you hold me to those words. In the meantime... want to just snuggle until sleep takes us?"

"Yeah," Faith snickered, eyes drooping lower as she cuddled closer into Silva, "I won't refuse such an offer like that."

Silva wrapped her arms further around Faith, as she just cherished this moment of holding onto her amada diente de león.

Faith dozed off first, and though Silva was not far behind her, within the dark of their room, she whispered into Faith's hair, "We're going to be okay. I promise, mi amor."

With nothing else to say until tomorrow, she let out a content sigh as she dragged the soft blanket over their exposed bodies, and sunk into Faith's slumbering embrace. Finally finding a quiet to look forward to.

[A/n] Finally it's over. I can move on to the tag stuff I've missed.

[Skit #1: Faith: "How might Azriel take the news of a possible new sibling?" Silva: "I wouldn't worry about it. She'd probably be more thrilled at finally being taller than someone for once."]

[Skit #2: Kamski: "Alright I've installed a functioning infirmary into your doomsday bunker in the scenario we'd have to bunk together during a disaster." Silva: "...Not thrilled but ok." Kamski: "It's prepared for injuries, illnesses, surgeries and any pregnancies in the unlikely case we have others bunk with us." Silva: "That sounds good and all, but what about contraceptives?" Kamski: "Don't be ridiculous Silva... no one's stupid enough to fuck in a bunker during a disaster and neither of us are getting lucky enought to change our single status any time soon." Silva: "Hurtful but sounds legit." Years later... Silva: "Once I die, Kamski when I get my hands on you, you motherfu-"]

[viviane-lefay]

AU for Dagan & Santari

… because I absolutely can't accept how things turned out for them - therefore, I made my own, preferred scenario for them.  

I’m not much of a writer, I’m afraid, and I don’t have much experience in storytelling, so this text will mostly be of a descriptive nature, like a plot, if you will - with some parts in between where I comment on certain aspects, sharing my opinion on them. It’s a bit chaotic, but please bear with me. ^^;;

Of course this is just my headcanon, based on my take on these characters & their relationship (more about that here & here), as well as my personal preferences. I mainly wrote this for myself, after all – and, hopefully, some like-minded others.

Anyway, please be nice! If you like it, then that is great - even if you only like some parts … just pick whatever resonates with you. And if you don't - please keep that to yourself, ok!?

Here's (roughly, for now) what I had in mind:

~*~

From what is shown in the game, there is no information about what happened to Santari after she left Koboh.

What if she, after she realized that Zee failed her mission, and there was no one left to release Dagan from his stasis (who would likely remain like this for a prolonged period of time), put herself in a stasis too, linked in duration to his (and, hence, didn't die), because ...

she just couldn't let go of him like this, refusing to give up on believing in him

but also felt that he needed to make a decision for himself, which path to choose undistractedly, and therefore didn't go to release him herself (which he, unfortunately, misinterpreted as yet another abandonment upon his release by Cal - but, then again, he was still traumatized by her turning on him during their last encounter).

Since she left Koboh for good with the remaining ships, it struck me as rather odd that, in the game, you can find her lightsaber hidden in a chest there, located in a sealed passageway.

Why is it on this very planet, of all places!? Shouldn't it rather be in her latest location? Or did she even leave it there on purpose?

Knowing of the significance of the saber for the Jedi, as well as the importance to never lose it (“This weapon is your life.” - Obi-Wan, Ep. II), it makes me wonder if she left behind the life of a Jedi, and just remained a scientist. Since being a Jedi was such an important part of her life, this must have been a very profound decision to make, and maybe even a sacrifice for something of even greater importance to her.

Frankly, her complete disregard for the Jedi council's decision, as well as her further plans, make it pretty clear where her true loyalties and priorities lie - and it's not the Jedi order in this case.

You can see that illustrated very well in the game, when she refuses to turn him in, disobeying a direct order by the council by doing so - which, in itself, is already a huge crime, given his actions and how powerful and dangerous he is. Then, she keeps what happened to Dagan a secret, hides him from them, plotting for him to get away with it all and reach his goals nonetheless.

That she also plans to reunite with him after he is released from stasis indeed raises the question of her potentially having left the order – because to them he is a wanted criminal now – and it would make no sense if she lead him into a trap when she had already put in so much effort into his protection. Imho, her leaving because she chose the man she loves over the Jedi order is definitely the most likely explanation.

That she turned on him in the end is not because of his open rebellion against the order, or his plans regarding Tanalorr - after all she rebelled in her own way, albeit in a more subtle, hidden manner. Her and his goals were the same … the means, however, weren't.

And that is exactly where the problem is - the way he went about it - especially with him turning to the dark side.

She was clearly desperate, terrified to lose him because of this, and tried to stop him for that very reason. She wanted to prevent him from going further down that road.

Ironically, he wasn't able to see that, and, of all things, it was her (perceived) betrayal first and foremost, that caused his actual fall, and further descent after being released from stasis.

Her severing his arm was a complete kneejerk reaction, borne out of her despair, and I’m inclined to believe that it weighed quite heavily on her, and would haunt her from then on.

In the flashback scene you can clearly tell how distressed she is, inside, despite her somewhat level-headed demeanor. How she immediately rushes to him and holds him, calling out for help. Only after he's fallen unconscious, she gives vent to her feelings, doubles over and cries (you can't see her face, but it's fairly obvious that she does).

Aside from the arm issue, their confrontation was quite faltering anyway. You could really tell that neither wanted to do this, let alone hurt the other.

Especially with him, this becomes evident, given what he did to the other Jedi who opposed him, and what he is capable of, combat skills - wise. (I'm sure, Santari is proficient with her lightsaber, but she's not a warrior, like him, who is renowned for his outstanding skills as a duelist. She would have lasted some time, I'll grant her that, but not for long.) Instead he just shoves her away via the force, and also just lightly.

~*~

Anyway, here’s a description of one of the key scenarios I had in mind:

After awakening from her stasis and coming to terms with the historic changes that have taken place, galaxy-wide, Santari prepares for her return to Koboh. Once there, she keeps a low profile, as not to catch too much attention, and to just gather information on the recent happenings there. Troubled by what she learned, she decides to act instead of taking a more passive, observant approach, as she planned earlier.

She barely made it to the observatory in time to interrupt the fight between Dagan, Cal, and Bode, that had just started.

Her sudden appearance unfortunately heated up the situation any further, throwing the already upset Dagan into complete turmoil.

She tried to reason with him, but he was too caught up in his feelings of betrayal, and the version of reality he had so carefully constructed to endure and justify everything, that he just wouldn’t hear her out – not before Tanalorr was secured.

But he would not attack her. After all that had happened between them, he still did not hate her. Anger, yes, resentment for her actions, but hate ... he couldn't bring himself to feel that way towards her - and never would.

Instead, he quickly redirected his rage towards Cal again, and the fight resumed, more furious than before.

Bode, who was getting impatient, inserted himself at some point by starting to fire shots from his blaster at Dagan in quick succession, which were all blocked, but one. Normally, this wouldn't have been a challenge for Dagan, but the whole situation with Santari had thrown him off balance, and he lacked his usual poise.

The damage was but minor, but it jolted not only Dagan awake again, but also Santari, who had been watching the scenario unfold in grief-stricken numbness.

Seeing their chance, Cal and Bode started a coordinated attack from different directions.

This time, he would have been able to both parry Cal's blows, as well as deflect Bode's shots, but an alarmed Santari rushed behind him to block the blaster shots, just in the moment as he spun around and set out to do so himself.

It happened too fast even for him, too unexpected, and the moment was already over before the realization about what had occurred crept in. He could only watch in dismay as his blade struck her, see her falter and fall, only to be caught by him, just before she would hit the ground, and hear himself crying out her name, holding her seemingly lifeless body in his arms, as the world zeroed in on her and her mere existence, and a wave of mind-numbing pain and regret washed over him.

As he holds her close, he notices that she is still breathing, albeit weakly, and thus still alive, despite her serious injury. Desperate to save her, he carefully picks her up and sets out in a rush to carry her to the nearest medical facility.

Just as he got up, an incensed and clearly impatient Bode steps in his way and shouts at him, demanding the compass, which at the time is still in Dagan’s possession.

Aware that any further delay would come at the cost of Santari’s life, Dagan, who is beyond caring at this point, snatches the compass from his belt and dismissively tosses it in Bode’s direction, before storming off.

~*~

Frankly, in his case I think a profound shock such as this is necessary to snap him out of his rather set thought- and behavioural patterns and to truly make him question his actions.

It is also important that it was Dagan, of all people, to strike her down, and not her being hit by an attack by Bode or Cal. If it had been the latter, it wouldn’t have had such a transformative effect on him in the way the proposed scenario did, as it would have just provided an opportunity for him to further project onto others, and to redirect his anger towards his opponents any further.

Accidentally hurting the woman he loves, himself, with no one else to lay the blame on, would finally be the catalyst for him to shift his focus inwards and recognize the error of his decisions and actions - that it was his own pride and obstinacy that led to this outcome - and then to take accountability.

Above all I want him to realize (or rather remember) that he loves Santari more than anything in the universe, that he would do anything for this woman, and would gladly sacrifice anything for her - be it Tanalorr, his pride, any other ambition of his, whatever the cost - that all these things are meaningless without her, and that he is willing to forego it all, if only she is alive and well.

Basically, I want them to have this "reverse anidala" theme, where the man's love for the woman, and his strong attachment to her, instead of spelling his doom, ultimately is the key factor that saves him from the dark side, initiating a profound transformation within him, which also leads to his redemption arc.

You know, in Star Wars foreshadowing (especially via dialogue) has always been a huge theme. More often than not, there was a deeper meaning hidden somewhere, which would become evident during the course of the story.

A prime example of this is Obi-Wan's remark to Anakin: "Why do I get the feeling that you're going to be the death of me?", or when Anakin says to Padmé: "The thought of not being with you - I can't breathe." These are all allusions to things that have not yet come to pass, but eventually will.

In Dagan's case, this one line, spoken to Santari in a Force Echo, really stood out to me as such a potentially prophetic statement:

"You're the only one who can guide me back."

In the scene itself they were talking about Dagan's perilous mission to fly into the Koboh Abyss. I found the choice of name for this nebula quite interesting on a symbolic level, as the word "abyss” (which, in myth, was a term used to describe the underworld, and even the hellish realms - a dark and dreadful place) could very well stand as a perfect analogy for the dark side, and getting lost therein.

As we saw, Santari’s betrayal and her loss of course had been a major factor in his fall, there is no deying that (for instance, we see that this particular memory was the crucial one to truly complete the bleeding of his lightsaber’s kyber crystal).

In the game's canon, however, we are merely confronted with a missed opportunity. There was no Santari anymore - she was long since gone - so he had to deal with this ultimate loss on top of his already existing trauma, and all that was left for him was to cling like a madman to the only remaining thing that had a connection to her, which was Tanalorr. And it was pretty clear that his emotional ties to Santari were a pivotal aspect of his obsession with this planet.

So, in my AU I want to explore what would have happened, if Dagan had been given that chance, and Santari would have been there, after all, "guiding him back" - or rather her being the catalyst for him, to give him the hope and strength to walk this path himself, as it actually is his love for her that truly guides him back:

That this would be possible is pretty much a given, as there were other characters that were way further gone, darkside-wise, than he was, that also turned back to the light - prime example being Anakin Skywalker, of course.

(The original) Star Wars has always been all about hope, faith, and making the seemingly impossible possible – at its core it has always been deeply optimistic, with a firm belief in and emphasis on the good in mankind. If you're looking for nihilist, cynical portrayals and outcomes ... sorry, wrong universe. (If that is the shit you want, then try Game of Thrones, ffs!)

No one believed that Anakin could be saved, except for Luke, and Padmé, who expressed her unwavering faith in Anakin's innate goodness and his ability turn back with her dying breath.

More cynical minds would probably say that both Luke's, and Padmé's judgements were clouded by their feelings for Anakin - except that this wasn't the case - quite the opposite, in fact.

As for Padmé - she might not have been able to acknowledge the warning signs of his imminent fall in the moment, but she certainly felt that something troubling was going on. However, concerning the nature of his being, her perception couldn’t have been any more accurate.

After all it was her, who had this profound and intimate connection to him, who knew him better and deeper than anyone else, and, for that very reason, was able to perceive something in him that the others just couldn't. And she was a woman with a sharp mind and common sense, and her reasoning was absolutely sound.

And, yes, she was vindicated in the end!

I see that very much mirrored in Santari, her unwavering faith in Dagan, and her unwillingness to give up on him.

Here's her expressing her conviction in a force echo scene, that took place after her confrontation with Dagan, and right after he was put in the bacta tank:

"The council may have given up on you, but I know who you truly are, Dagan. Even if you yourself have forgotten..."

Of course she knows! It has been hinted at in the game multiple times that these two have known each other for a long time, are very, very close, and share a deep bond based on mutual trust, amongst other things. So, this conviction of hers is very much built on the fact that she knows him better, deeper, and more intimately than anyone else - that she knows things about him that no one else knows, has seen a side of him that no one else has ever seen. That she is the only one able to see him truly as the way he is, and is, therefore, the only one able to make a sound judgement of him and what he is capable of - or isn't.

This woman is anything but a sentimental fool, not only is she a fucking genius, she also possesses great wisdom, discernment, patience, and self-control, so, of course, there is substance to her claims, regardless of the fact that she is in love with him.

~*~

That said, I’ll now continue to describe the scenario for my AU:

Cal had been watching everything unfold with conflicting emotions, and he could not deny that the tragic turn of events on his opponent’s side affected him.

Ever since he saw them together in the force echoes, Cal has always had his suspicions about the true nature of the feelings the two Jedi harboured for each other, and now he saw the undeniable truth right in front of his eyes.

As much as he resented Dagan’s previous actions - seeing this proud man so broken and forlorn, clasping the lifeless form of his lost love to his bosom, he could not help but empathize with him, being all too familiar with love and loss himself.

It did impress him no less to see Dagan, moments later, relinquish the key to Tanalorr - to his discovery, his home, his ambitions, and his great obsession - without a moment’s hesitation, as not to lose time for saving his beloved.

At the same time, Bode’s behaviour in this situation filled him with indignation. How was this any better than Dagan’s previous conduct towards them!? It was not. If anything, it was just as unscrupulous, and that was not how he wanted to be, or to act.

Maybe it was his sense of justice, maybe it was a surge of sympathy, maybe both, that made him turn and go after Dagan, who had just disappeared through the door.

Even so, his sudden reappearance, was met by a furious glare by Dagan who was in no mood to tolerate any further delays, not believing Cal’s claim of only wanting to help. So Cal just prompted BD-1 to act, who immediately understood and administered the last health stim in his possession to Santari, who indeed seemed to show a response.

Dagan, who was too caught up in his concern for Santari just shot him a glance, before rushing off again. However short it had been, the surprise and relief in his eyes had still been visible - as well as a hint of gratitude, or so Cal believed.

From behind, Bode urged him to leave, but he refused, saying he would follow later. He needed time to reflect.

As he made his way back down, hours later, walking through the corridors, he passed by the medical ward. He stopped and stood there, wondering what had become of Santari - if his help had made any difference, however small, even if it meant that she just barely made it, and if, at this point, she was still alive after all.

With a mixture of curiosity and concern, he entered the hallway that led to the examination room. The door was still left open and he slowly made his way to the front, so he could catch sight of what was going on inside.

On the surgery couch, connected to a device that was monitoring her vital parameters, there was a still unconscious, but alive Santari.

Inclined towards her, Dagan was sitting by her side, lost in thought, holding her hand in his remaining one, his eyes fixated on the delicate features of the woman in front of him. His expression was full of sorrow and longing, yet above it all there was a deep affection gracing his handsome face, displaying a tenderness, Cal wouldn’t have associated with him before.

How long had he been watching over her like this, Cal wondered. Night had almost passed, and the horizon was already lighting up in a faint violet.

Daring not to interrupt the scene, he slowly turned, moving as silently as he could, when a deep voice, lowly but firmly, commanded him to wait. He did not know how and when, but somewhere along the line Dagan must have taken notice of his presence.

He again turned to face the Jedi master, who sat still, immovable, in his spot. Even now, as Dagan spoke on, his gaze remained, dwelling upon his beloved.

“When she was examined, I was informed, that it was your medicine that had made a difference, after all. Without it, I would have lost her.”, he concluded, his voice raw with unexpressed emotion. A moment of silence followed, an indrawn breath.

“Thank you!”

Although greatly humbled by the previous events, it must not have easily passed his lips … and yet, he seemed to feel the need to express this to him. A declaration so simple, as it was powerful, genuine, heartfelt.

Cal could appreciate that, inquiring if there was a chance she might make it now that her condition had stabilized at last.

Dagan nodded, ascertaining that until then, he would remain by her side and keep vigil over her quiescent state, waiting for a sign, however long it would take.

In case she woke again, he expressed his hopes that, should they meet again, may this be on better terms than their past encounters.

In case she did not … he paused with a pained expression, briefly closing his eyes, before continuing … then this should now be his bidding him a final farewell.

Cal, understanding the unspoken message, dared not pursue the question any further, and instead agreed expressly to Dagan’s sentiment regarding better future relations, before taking his leave.

Still deep in thought, he returned to his friends, who were already waiting for him at the Mantis, ready to take off for Jedha.

For Dagan, a long vigil remained, that would last another night and day, hours of uncertainty and doubt wearing on in a gruellingly slow pace.

In the silence that surrounded him, the voices in his mind kept on howling all the louder, seized with remorse, confronting him with every decision he made, every action he took - that ultimately led to this result, that he now realized were wrong - in an unceasing and damning judgement.

“If she dies, it is your fault!”, they would scream, and he knew there was nothing he could say to deny their allegations, that lessened his guilt in this matter even for one bit. That was the hardest thought to bear – that it was him, his pride, his obstinacy, and impatience, who had brought about this misery, him, of all people, who hurt her – the one he loved the most.

At this point, the voices that wondered about the “what if”s and “what could have been”s chimed in, telling him the tantalizing tale of chances lost, and all the roads not taken. If only he had listened to her …

At last, a breathed sigh that signalled her waking pulled him out of his thoughts, after a time that felt like an eternity, spent in his personal purgatory.

Her eyelids slowly fluttered open to reveal the soft brown gaze that he so often had lost himself in, that he was again losing himself in in this very moment. With quivering lips, he uttered her name, his voice shaky and raw.

Her mouth silently forming the syllables of his name in response, and the accompanying expression, the longing he felt mirrored in her eyes, were enough to push him over the edge.

A sudden, hot wave of emotion overtook him and before he knew, their lips were locking, and he was kissing her with a desperate, fervent hunger he had not known before – not like this.

When he finally let go, his eyes were moist, and two rivulets of tears, shed out of relief and regret in equal measure, were trickling down his face. His heart was screaming and pleading her to forgive him, but the words just barely escaped his mouth. Dainty fingers reached up and softly brushed his cheek, concern and understanding in her eyes.

Just as he set on to speak again, she just lightly shook her head and pulled him in once more.

Slender arms wound tightly around his broad shoulders, and her hands delved deep into the silver masses of his hair, silken strands between her fingers.

His own remaining arm gently slid behind her back, supported by his force-conjured limb, to pull her up and close, always careful not to put too much pressure on her still fragile and healing form. Still, his hand was clutching the fabric of her tunic so hard it was almost shaking, clinging to her with the urgency of a drowning man.

As short and intense their previous kiss was, it was merely a prelude to the additional sweetness and depth of the one they shared now. She yielded under his touch like delicate flower petals under the rain, sinking back into the crook of his arm, as his lips were bearing down on hers with the full weight and ardour of the love he could not contain anymore.

After what seemed like ages, and yet too soon, their lips slowly parted, softly grazing, catching and releasing each other in feverish zeal in between, reluctant to let go.

They would remain, tightly entangled in their embrace, for a long while, trying to steady themselves, their breath still shaky from their madly racing heart. Trying to make up for the loss of his hand, that would have come up to rest at her face at this point, he inclined, giving her nose a gentle nudge with his own.

Santari, who knew the mannerisms of her beloved like no other, picked up his unspoken intention. Memories came welling up, unbidden, in a wave of guilt and regret that had never left her since their altercation on the Shattered Moon, overtaking her mind and finding their final release in a strangled sob, with her own heart begging for a forgiveness it would never grant itself, but knew it was already given by the one her plea was directed towards.

Like an answer, his cheek came to rest against hers, and their tears mingled, building bit by bit into a torrent, running in silence, until one of them finally rose to speak.

And there was so much to speak about, so much that they had to tell each other, that finally had to be said.

As they talked, they made their way up again, towards the top level of the observatory, with Santari leaning on Dagan for support, who had wrapped his arm around her in a protective manner, steadying her, attending her along the way, walking slowly, carefully.

When they arrived, the sun was nearing the horizon, painting the sky in a gradient of fire, that, itself, was fading into the darkening blue of the falling night, wherein the most luminous stars were already glimmering, scattered across the celestial landscape.

They sat down in the spot they so often had frequented once, two centuries in the past, gazing at the starlit sky, dreaming together. His arm remained, tightly wound around her and she sank into his embrace again, as he patiently, intently listened to her, before it was his turn again to speak, in an exchange that would yet become hours of unburdening their hearts.

It was already deep into the night when Dagan’s exhaustion eventually made itself known, getting the better of him after his prolonged, untiring vigil without rest. So, they laid down, snuggled up to each other on their makeshift bed under the stars, heads rested on his cloak, turned into a pillow for them both, and under Santari’s loving and watchful gaze, he finally allowed himself to drift off to sleep – this time, with her keeping guard over him instead.

He woke to her humming, the caressing, feathery touch of her fingers running through his hair, and a smile as warm as the rays of the midday sun that now stood at its zenith in the sky. She was still in the same position she occupied last night, concerned not to rouse him all too early, but also not entirely willing to remove herself from his embrace either, savouring the languid hours of a morning slept-in in the arms of her love, something they were but seldomly granted to do in the past, watching the expression of serenity and peace gracing his exquisitely fair face.

She already felt better, invigorated even, and so did Dagan, who had regained his usual strength after his long overdue night’s rest.

Both agreed that it was now time for them to leave and they set out for the landing platform on which Santari’s ship was stationed.

The ship was an old relic from a bygone era, that Dagan immediately recognized as his own, that, despite its age and traces of usage, had served him well during his countless expeditions, bearing him to many faraway places, just as it now had borne her here.

So, instead of choosing a new one, she took his old ship and made it her own, just as he had planned to do with her droid. He could not help but chuckle at the thought.

Granted, it was an elegant vessel, with its streamlined form, and tasteful, spacious interior, that in its day had its use as the private transport of some aristocrat – at least that is what the previous owner had told him. What most stood out about it, though, was its great maneuverability and speed, that even time and use did not diminish – qualities that, aside from his own outstanding capabilities as a pilot, carried him through the Abyss and back again.

Whereto would it carry them now?

That was the one question that still remained. Where did they go now, without a home to return to!?

But the answer was - it did not matter – truly, it never did. All he knew and all that did matter now, was that he could go anywhere, anyplace, as long as she was with him. His true and only home was her - the home he could not live without, the home that he never wanted to be parted from again.

As he expressed these sentiments to her, he gave in to the thought that had been occupying his mind during the lonesome hours of his vigil, a rekindled dream of yore.

He took a step back, all the while keeping his eyes locked on hers and his gaze, strangely intense, took on an almost imploring quality. Like this, he remained for a moment, his breath shaky, then he sank to his knee, finally daring to ask the once forbidden question that had long since been burning in his heart.

With a gasp of disbelief and recognition, her eyes widened …

It had been a secret dream of theirs, something they once had wondered about - she remembered it like yesterday - born in a blissful moment, as they lay in each other’s arms, snuggled together after lovemaking and immersed in the other’s eyes, exchanging drowsy kisses every now and again, they were envisioning what life would have been like for them together if they were no Jedi, dreaming up a possible scenario … just a woman and a man, bound by no other vows but the one that tied them together as one.

And they would go on - imagining the home they would have built and shared together, a small sanctuary just for the two of them - until they drifted off to sleep, only to wake up again in the life they had - the life of a scientist and a knight of the order, and a love lived in secrecy. Because that was all it was – just a fond wish, a lovely fantasy far beyond their grasp. Tanalorr was the closest they got, and yet it had been taken from them.

But now … times had changed - the order was gone, the Jedi but few, their doctrine a mere relic of the past, and they were free – free to do whatever they pleased – a second chance to try and seize, but even now she would not have dared to believe, to hope, he would be so bold and act – to actually ask her – and yet here they were.

Too overwhelmed to speak, she just stood there for a moment, her hand cupped over her quivering lips, gulping back a sob, before she fell down into his arms, finally blurting out the answer he so longed to hear. With a deep sigh of relief, betraying how tense and nervous he must have felt, he pulled her close and kissed her in his characteristic, passionate manner that always made her knees go weak.

~*~

Frankly, I don't think the assumption that they might have these desires is all that unreasonable, considering they had this dream of a shared home, that was at the core of their overarching plans of building a temple, and achieving great things for the order.

This is especially strong with Dagan … first of all – because it is mentioned by him in the game (along with other things being heavily implied).

When he bleeds his kyber crystal, his voice takes on an increasingly agitated tone, finally peaking when he refers to Tanalorr as “my home” - not his project, his contribution to the order, but his home - and then, when he mentions Santari’s betrayal, everything explodes.

Of course, you also, if not especially, need to consider his formative years as a slave on Arkania (at least how I imagine them to be like), and the influence these had on his needs and desires.

So, why should marrying the woman he loves not be one of these desires!? Maybe not of Dagan the knight, with his lofty and noble ambitions, but of Dagan the man, carrying this wish in his most secret heart.

It definitely sounds like something he would want, and actually act upon once he sees a chance – after all, he’s a very emotionally passionate person, prone to follow his heart’s desire, as well as his instincts more than anything else (just like Anakin), and someone who doesn’t give a f*** about conventions (also very much like Anakin, who also happens to be not the only Jedi ever to have tied the knot, btw – it is said there have always been some to have done this despite the “rules”).

Imho, he’d totally dig this idea of the completely committed nature of marriage, this absolute and unbreakable bond, as well as showing Santari his undying love and devotion this way. And the fact, that it’s very much an official thing – even better! The whole galaxy has to know, too!

As for Santari … I think her sentiments are absolutely the same, but she’s, of course, more the sober-minded and patient one, but not any less strong-willed, nor any less stubborn and defiant than him, if she truly wants something, mind you - it’s just that her nature allows her to act in a far more subtle manner.

One thing is certain - their actions have more than proven that their priorities and loyalties lie, first and foremost, with each other, and no one else!

Ultimately, I feel, getting married is such a great choice for them, because of their bond that runs so deep - a love that is not only profound and strong, but also enduring - and the magnitude of their attachment that is already present.

Sealing this bond in marriage - while being of singular personal importance to them, of course - would only be a symbolic act, in the end, to make said bond visible to the outside world. So, regarding their status as force user and Jedi, it would hardly have any relevance, as the attachment is already there anyway, as I said.

[ Btw, I can’t stand the attitude that emotional commitment and attachment has to be this exclusively negative thing, with predominantly negative consequences. It is said to only lead to the dark side, but, Imho, there is so much potential for the positive in these bonds – if only they can be channeled in a favourable direction.

Only a bond as deep and as powerful as this would be able to produce the emotional impulse of a magnitude strong enough to tear someone away from the grasp of the dark side for good, as was seen with Anakin. I’m actually more than a little surprised that this fact gets overlooked so constantly. Shame!

Besides - as if Jedi hooking up, sleeping around and just leaving with unfazed detachment because “muh rules”, even becoming deadbeat dads in the process, is any better … WTF! And no, producing force sensitive children and potential initiates for the order is no excuse. Ugh, I hate this argument! Whoever must have come up with that must have been a massive fuckboy…

Dagan definitely isn’t such a guy – quite the opposite, in fact!

Good that Luke got rid of that stupid mindset and rule! After all, his father fell, to a significant degree, just because of it. And I wonder how many Jedi did as well, who remain unmentioned – let alone the hearts that got broken because of it. ]

Maybe Tanalorr was the attempt to reconcile these two sides (the two Jedi versus the man and the woman), and make this dream, which he shared with Santari, a reality.

And, of course, "what happens in the Temple on Tanalorr stays in the Temple on Tanalorr", as I read somewhere. ;)

~*~

Some hours later, they were off, heading to Coruscant, leaving Koboh behind for a while, to accomplish what they had planned to do.

At Santari’s urging, they made a stopover at the nearest medical center, for Dagan to finally get a cybernetic replacement for his lost arm. Still full of remorse over what happened on the Shattered Moon base, she felt unable to find any peace of mind until at least the visible signs of the damage, that her saber had wrought, were undone. Dagan, who still felt the pain of his own regret as acutely, perceived her sorrow despite her composed demeanor, drew her in his still one-armed embrace, and tried to cheer her up, voicing his support of the idea, as it would enable him to hold her again like he used to. The prospect, as well as the disarming nonchalance in which it was stated, the playful smirk and the twinkle in his eye, still managed to conjure a smile on her face.

When they returned to Koboh two weeks later, now a married couple, they first made a visit to Pyloon’s Saloon, to look for Zee, as Santari had learned of her whereabouts after her initial arrival on the planet, and was looking forward to meet her old assistant, hoping for her to join them again – especially after the restoration of her memory.

Just as they wanted to enter the saloon, the Mantis emerged in the skies and landed on its usual place on the platform – Cal, Merrin, Greez, and Kata disembarked and came their way.

Cal, who was still reeling from Bode’s betrayal and loss, a downcast and sombre expression darkening his face, lightened up a little at their sight, seeming almost glad to see them.

Once inside, they were about to exchange greetings, still a little tense despite their recently changed, now more amicable relations, when Zee, who had recognized their voices from above, rushed down to greet them, only to be brought up short at the sight of Dagan, of whom she took note with no little bewilderment and shock, the memory of their last encounter still present in her mind.

But when the delicate figure, that clung to his side, his arm gently placed around her, turned her head in Zee’s direction and was immediately recognized as her old master, she came heading towards her in exuberant spirits, an overjoyed exclamation of “Master Khri!” ringing out of her vocalizer, and immediately assailed her with a plethora of questions, inquiring to know about the reason of her sudden appearance, which also aroused the attention of the others in their circle.

Santari explained everything Zee, as well as the others, wanted to know, in her usual calm and patient manner. It was the instant, when she was speaking about Dagan, referring to him as her husband, that took everyone by surprise, and for a moment there was silence.

While it was, by now, known to everyone but Zee, that the bond between Santari and Dagan was one of love (thanks to Cal’s account), none of them had expected the two Jedi to take it a step further and actually wed, in complete defiance of the rules the Order had instilled into them from early on.

Rules that were quickly brought up by the nonplussed droid, who just couldn’t believe her master would ever go against this doctrine - and now seemed so unconcerned about it, happy even, exchanging enamoured glances with her now-husband, who put his affections on display with a boldness that would have made Zee blush, had she been able to.

Curious enough, no one else seemed to have any objections, and, she didn’t know if she read it right, but there seemed to be a subtle note of approval, respect even, colouring the voice of young Cal Kestis, as he joined Merrin in expressing his congratulations to his fellow Jedi.

Following this, the conversation quickly evolved into a discussion about the recent events.

Eventually, they came to the conclusion that it was best to unite regarding the settlement on Tanalorr, as well as the redevelopment of the Jedi temple, and the new directions the teachings should be taken to.

The only matter left to sort out now were the Bedlam Raiders, and what was to happen with them, now that Dagan, their leader, and the only person with enough influence to rein them in, was to depart to Tanalorr.

That is what they were now planning to take care of, before starting their journey together with the others.

Before they set out for the Raiders’ Lucrehulk headquarters, Santari pulled a small device out of her pocket, a data carrier of sorts, and quickly restored Zee’s memory.

Out of consideration, the latter was allowed to wait in the Saloon for their return, instead of joining them on their mission to the place that still held nothing but bad memories for her. Greez, however, was grateful to have someone to help him with the preparations for the upcoming relocation.

~*~

So much for the key part of my AU.

Of course, there is more, but the most important aspect, the big turning point, has been dealt with here.