#i love you ao3 but i never know what tags to use lmao

[umbracirrus]

"Do you surrender?"

Guess who has finally written - and posted-! - smut of her idiots Elyse and Balgruuf? Meeee 💛

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Fic rating: E

Fic relationships: Balgruuf the Greater/Female Dragonborn

Description:

When business in Whiterun grows far too tedious for Balgruuf's liking, he takes a break to find his wife in order let off some steam. What starts out as a sparring session with Elyse on the Dragonsreach porch takes a heated turn.

Excerpt:

"Balgruuf?" She blinked a few moments as she took in the empty space in front of her. "Where in Oblivion-?" She realised mid-sentence that he had changed tactics during the moment she had stopped. Given where they were, and after a cursory glance backward revealing that he wasn't behind her… She rolled her eyes as she approached where she knew that he was standing, just outside on the balcony of the porch behind the cover of the wall, before she took a final few steps forward, and quickly moved her sword before he could blindside her. The point of her blade was against his chest, giving him just enough space to breathe whilst keeping him pinned to the spot. "Elyse-" "Balgruuf, do you honestly think that people haven't tried the whole 'hiding to catch me off-guard' thing on me before?" she hummed, moving closer to him, and shifting her sword so that the edge was now pressing against his tunic and the distance between them was almost entirely closed. "Though it makes a nice change seeing you instead." She glanced towards his own sword in his hand after that moment, and the corner of her lip turned up at the sight of him seemingly being uncertain in what to do. Her victory was all but guaranteed. “Do you surrender?” she whispered, her voice quiet and almost like a purr as her conjured blade slowly moved upward, and pressed against his neck. The edge just barely caught at some of the hairs of his beard, though went entirely unnoticed. The sword in his hands fell to the floor with a clatter, but his lips - less than an inch from hers as she leaned on the tips of her toes to maintain eye contact with him - curved up. “Never.”

[wwinterwitch]

cowboy like me — coriolanus snow

summary: it takes one to know one. you and him were exactly alike, which explains why you were inevitably drawn to each other

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

word count: 2k

tags: you can't fix him you're as awful as him, being delusional together, fluff??? (not really but u guys are in love and happy and married), mentions of/implied murder and being bad people, romanticizing everything

notes: idk where i was going with this i just had this idea in my head and taylor inspired me to write it. i'm also absolutely feral for young!snow it's not even funny at this point, i needed to find ways to cope lmao

i'd really appreciate a comment or reblog if you enjoy my work.

masterlists | read on ao3

A smile appears on your face the second you feel a hand on your lower back, turning around to meet your husband's loving gaze.

He stands directly in front of you, staring down at you in a way that to this day makes you feel butterflies in your stomach, like you're nothing but a teenage girl who's unlucky enough to have developed a blinding crush on a guy too charming for his own good— the thought of it makes you feel almost nostalgic, looking back at the early stages of your relationship.

Coriolanus Snow has always been a familiar face. Growing up together, you two have known each other for ages. You might've interacted a few times, but nothing beyond brief conversations between classmates.

You had a boyfriend at the time. A much too sweet and caring guy that made the big mistake of falling irrevocably in love with you. In all fairness, it was hard for him not to trail behind you like a lost puppy all the time when you were so good at making foolish boys believe you were the girl of their dreams.

Love is not a word you would use to describe your relationship. He was tolerable and clearly obsessed with you, so it made sense for you to stay with him. He learned with time that buying you very expensive gifts would get you to pay more attention to him, so that became his way of showing his affection for you.

In his mind this was perfectly reasonable. His girl likes being spoiled, so that's exactly what he did. The adoration for you blinded him enough to ignore the truth: you're just sticking around for the money. Some people warned him you were bad news, but you always managed to find a way to make him worship you all over again. Maybe you could've felt sorry for him at some point...if only he didn't have such good taste to pick things out for you.

But then Coriolanus happened. You started to notice him more and more until you inevitably started having feelings for him. How could you not fall for a guy like him? Especially after he started his quick ascend as one of the best Game makers in history.

Maybe it was the way he so fervently claimed his interest in you, willing to pursue you even when your boyfriend was still in the picture. Or perhaps it had to do with his growing popularity and power. After all, you can't deny how attracted you are to guys with ambition.

And Coriolanus is not exactly sure what made him fall for you either. There's many things he loves about you, that's for sure, but he can't say which came first. Was it your captivating beauty and intelligence, or the news that you recently became the only heir to one of the wealthiest families in the Capitol?

Whatever force pulled the two of you together, it really doesn't matter at this point. What matters is that he loves you with every fiber of his being, willing to do whatever is in his power to make sure you're happy (and what isn't, he'll do anything to get). And you love him too, of course, offering him a companionship he always craved— undying fidelity, the purest honesty and understanding.

You've never once judged him for being who he is. If anything, you seem to admire his strength to do whatever it takes to secure his place in society. No one has ever been this loving and accepting, almost encouraging him to be as determined as ever to get the two of you on top.

Whatever he did or didn't do is already in the past. Why should the past matter? Shouldn't you enjoy the present with your loving and successful husband? Be proud of the work the two of you have done to get where you are?

No, the past is gone. It already happened. There’s no need to look back at things you can't change and decisions you can't take back. It all brought you here. Every tiny little decision led the two of you to this moment; married, in love, happy, powerful. It was meant to be like this.

He didn't seem to mind about your own past either. Any other person would've judged you for the difficult decisions you had to make in order to become the wealthiest woman in all of Panem. You've seen it in the face of ex friends and lovers. They never understood your hunger for what you so rightfully deserve.

Good things don't happen to people because they're good. They happen because you make them happen. You fight, you take, you conquer. It's what life is, and it's something you and Coriolanus understand perfectly. That's why the two of you make sense. Why it feels so right to be together. You understand him and he understands you— understands you like no one else has in your entire life.

It was him the one who held you that night when you just couldn't hold it in anymore, and he sat with you while you cried and cried about your beloved sister, because even after all those years you still missed her and wished things could've been different.

If only your parents made it easier for you. They shouldn't have played favorites from the moment you were born. And they really shouldn't mess with something as important as inheritance. It's your goddamn birthright! How could they be so cruel to you? If they corner you against the wall with no apparent way to escape, it was a matter of time before you decided to stand your ground.

It's a shame your poor sister had to suffer the consequences, though. You really do love her...

Coriolanus couldn't judge you even if he tried. He could see himself in your tear-filled eyes and hear his own inconsolable sobs through your voice. It took him back to a particularly difficult point in his life where he had to make a similar choice.

He pours his heart out to you as he holds you tight against his body, revealing all the unfortunate things he was forced to do because it's all that was left. An act-or-die situation that kept repeating itself until he had no other choice but to do the unspeakable. What else was he supposed to do? What else were you supposed to do?

The regret in his voice is evident, and you know he does regret it because he’s a good person with a heart of gold. One of the best people you’ve ever met in your life. He’s good, and brave, and passionate…enough to sacrifice what he loves if the circumstances require that of him. Not many people have the privilege to claim to be as great as him.

"You did what you had to," your voice came out in a soft whisper, still affected by your sudden outburst with the thought of your sister engraved deep inside your brain. At the time you thought you were trying to ease his conscience, but maybe your statement was falling from your lips in a weak attempt to ease your own inner conflict too. "Life has been so unfair to us, Coriolanus. Is it too bad that we want just a little bit of peace?"

He stays quiet for a bit, stroking your hair in hopes to bring you some comfort as he processes your hopeless, pain-filled statement. That's probably the hardest thing about loving you; caring so much that he cannot possibly function if he knows you're hurting, and cursing himself for not being able to take that pain away. 

"We'll have peace," he eventually assures you. His voice is soft, yet fiercely determined. There's no room for discussion. He'll make it happen for the two of you. What's a few more difficult choices when he's so far gone now? When he knows it has worked perfectly before and it made all his dreams come true?

In that moment, snuggled up to his chest with his arms tightly wrapped around you, it was clear. That sense of familiarity you only get when you look back in the mirror, or when you quickly scan a room when someone speaks your name. He has suffered as much as you. He knows what it's like to be mistreated in life, and how difficult it is sometimes to live with the fact that you had to leave people behind to finally taste a drop of happiness.

The guilt comes and goes. Sometimes it's easier to remember you had no choice, but other times all you can think about is what life could've been if you weren't forced to take such drastic measures. Perhaps now that you have someone who truly understands, you'll learn to always remember you deserve all you managed to achieve.

When you move back from him to look up into his welcoming and comforting blue eyes, you knew you'd never be alone again. You'll never get to experience this free-fall, soul-consuming feeling with anyone else. And why would you even want to waste your time like that, when you already found the one person who sees the world exactly like you do? 

A love like this is hard to find. Most people spend a lifetime trying to find a love decent enough to make them feel like they're losing their minds. Like the air is missing from their lungs and everything looks much darker when the other is not around. Like they're willing to do anything to make the other happy. Like the fear of being consumed entirely by it is the sweetest of fates.

You thought you could only experience affection in the form of luxurious jewelry, fancy clothing and all that came with the important status your ex boyfriend provided. At one point, you could say you almost needed him. Or least needed his money. He provided a safety net you desperately needed after your stupid parents decided to leave everything to your annoyingly perfect sister.

After becoming the only heir in your family (it really is a shame that your sister was gone so soon, poor thing), your boyfriend was no longer a necessity, but a way of distracting yourself when you needed it. It's not like you're going to refuse his gifts and attention anytime soon, right?

But that was it. The furthest it can get to what being in love should look like. And that was what your relationship with Coriolanus should have been when you decided to make your way into his heart. Never in a million years would you have expected to meet a soul that matches yours in even the tiniest of details, that loves so deeply and cares enough to act like it's required to survive. 

With his arms still surrounding your body in a protective and comforting manner, you knew he’d be the guy you’d spend the rest of your life with. You knew it long before the day he got down on one knee, professing his undying love for you and offering the most beautiful engagement ring you have ever seen in your life. You pledged to always be there for him and, in return, he vowed to give you the world— he'd find a way to reach the night sky and collect every single star for you if that's what you ask of him. You kept each other's deepest secrets like they were your own. Two smart and ambitious people joining together in their search for greatness.

The hand on your lower back now rests against your cheek, tracing your skin in such a delicate manner that it almost makes you shiver. The white rose attached to his impeccable burgundy suit is slightly tilted to the right, fixing it with your hands as soon as your eyes notice that detail.

He smiles wider after your gesture, leaning down to capture your lips in an affectionate kiss to show his gratitude. You wish the moment could last longer, but you know it's impossible to stay behind these walls for longer when there's a loud crowd out there chanting your husband's name.

There's the briefest of interactions when he breaks the kiss, the two of you standing in front of each other with a smile of pure conspiracy— a silent recognition of the work individually done to get here, an unspoken ‘thank you’ to one another for the team effort, and the promise of a never-ending companionship that would only take you higher.

He grabs your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours before finally stepping outside to the marble balcony. Before you, a sea of people cheer and welcome the new President and First Lady of Panem.

[neysaadept]

heyyyy,

I LOVE your Emily fics and only just saw you’re taking requests!! Congrats on the followers.💗 I was wondering if you could do an Emily/Reader fic maybe with the prompts “they didn’t deserve you” and “why are you doing this”, (early days in the relationship) where it’s Christmas time and Emily mentions in passing how she always spends Christmas alone cause it’s too much to go to her parents and reader decides to surprise her by making dinner and bringing it to her on Christmas Day! Emily is confused because she’s never had this kind of care or treatment and reader says she deserves it ( maybe first time saying ily?)

anyways just an idea and NO pressure if it’s stupid lmao! Ily

thanks

Please let me know what you think of this. It got really carried away and I really hope you liked what I did with this. *hides*

Take a Chance

Emily Prentiss x Female Nurse!Reader

Tags - No use of Y/N, swearing, angst, fluff, meet cute, first Christmas. Minors DNI

Summary - Please refer to the ask for summary!

AO3

Word Count: 4.4k

As a nurse, you had few rules for who were out of bounds in dating. Doctors are a big hell no. Yes, it seems romantic and dreamy to fall for some sexy, brilliant, doctor but there is too much overlapping and fucked up hours to connect that things can fizzle out so quickly once you realize there is no compatibility. And god forbid you end up having to work with one another? So, so awkward after a breakup.

And yes, you’ve been there and done that. Never, ever, again. You moved out of ICU to have less contact with the intensivist, Dr. Vanessa Hyland, and the ER has been headhunting you for a while now. You took the opportunity and ran. It is a change of pace, but it had the same adrenaline vice that you crave working and triaging the unknown that walk through MedStar Washington Memorial that was close to the VA*.

Your exclusion list also includes paramedics, firefighters, police officers, and anyone in your department. You didn’t want someone that had similar bizarre hours as you and that you might end up seeing at work if shit hit the fan. Healthcare was a small world, and you didn’t need your exes in your immediate orbit.  You had enough drama at work and for the last year, the ER has become your work home and it has pushed you to pursue your license as a nurse practitioner. You had one year to go and were currently a resident.

You are career focused, intelligent and driven which currently made dating a low priority for you. Since the fling with Dr. Hyland fell through, you focus on yourself and enjoy being single since no one of genuine interest caught your fancy. And you stopped looking.

You didn’t realize your world was about to flip upside down when you knock on the window to Bay 3 in the ER and a deep voice said to come in.

That definitely didn’t sound like an Emily Prentiss to you. That must’ve been her partner speaking per the report given to you that he came along for the ambulance ride.

“Morgan, I can speak for myself …” came the snippy reply confirming your suspicions.

You pull the curtain back and take in the two feds in the room. The tall, dark, and muscular handsome fellow was hunched over the side rail before he saw you. “Hey, Doc. Mind telling princess here that she needs to behave?”

Your eyes dart to the woman on the cart who was squinting her best death glare at him. “I am behaving. I came here, didn’t I?”

With the concussion the female fed has, the bright lights of the room weren’t helping which made her glare pathetically cute. You turn the lights down, which the staff should have done in the first place.

“Better?” you say with an understanding smile.

She nods thankfully.

“Also, not a doctor. NP in training.” You walk in and introduce yourself. “So, shall I call you Emily or Agent Prentiss?”

She looks at you funny.

“Some feds have a stick up their ass about titles.”

“I definitely do not have a stick up my ass. Unless you count him?” She points a thumb at Morgan in all seriousness.

His face falls playfully with feign hurt, clutching at his chest. “Ouch, girl.”

“Hm,” you look thoughtfully between them and could feel the deeply rooted respect and love for these two partners. You decide to play along and return your attention to Emily. “Well, I’m sorry to say we don’t have a surgical consultant that specializes in that.” Then you wink. “I can always call security and throw him out if ya like.”

“Hey! Wait a second.” He lowers his hand accusingly. “You’re all not playing nice now.”

Emily chuckles. “I guess he can stay. He’s kinda my ride anyway.”

“Duly noted. Now, to business. May I?” You gesture to Emily’s head as you put on gloves. She nods and you start examining her scalp by gently running your fingers along her hair to smooth back to getting a better look. “The officer that was driving with you is doing OK. Same issue with head trauma after the T-bone. Do you remember hitting your head on anything before the airbags deployed?”

“Well, I was driving. Then we got the call on our suspect. Then we … we got the call on our suspect …” she shakes her head, wincing, trying to recall the memory before impact.

“Hey, if you don’t remember, it’s fine. I’m sure you know that. Doubt this is your first concussion?” You stop for a moment to make eye contact with Emily who rolls her eyes in affirmation. “Alright, well… you do have the start of a nice bruise here.”

You gently brush over the injury mid-scalp about halfway up from her left ear. “How’s the headache?”

“Pounding”, as she winces from your touch.

“Any nausea or vomiting?”

“No.”

“Dizziness or lightheadedness?”

“Nope.”

“Double or blurry vision?”

“A little. Tho it’s an improvement for Morgan’s looks.”

He whistles, shaking his head. “I’m letting that one slide since you’re suffering.”

You chuckle. “Alright, let me take a quick look at the rest of you. Anything else hurting that isn’t Morgan’s heart?”

That made her laugh as you pull the stethoscope over your head. “No. Nothing else hurts.

“Ladies, I’m starting to take offense now.” But he was all smiles.

You knew she suffered minor injuries from the ambulance report – contusions and small lacerations from shattered glass that didn’t require stitching. The officer on the passenger seat got cut worse being on the side of impact. You then listen to her heart, lungs and abdomen and palpate her stomach after making sure nothing was tender. Then did the same with her limbs testing neurological strength and any sore spots that may have been missed.

“Okay, Emily. Let’s get that CT done of your head.” You put the stethoscope back around your neck before placing your hands in your lab coat pockets. “If that comes back clean, I’ll release you home …” You see she’s about to ask a question you’re already anticipating. “… and no work until you’re medically cleared.”

She pouts rather prettily. You wish you didn’t notice. “And that also means no pretending to be cleared and going to work either.”

Morgan shakes his head and half smiles down at his partner. “Busted.”

“Had a feeling.” Morgan smirks between the two of you. “I’ll get those orders in.” You check your watch. “Should be done within the hour and we’ll go from there. If you need me, just call.”

Morgan steps around the bed to shake your hand. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure.” And you turn to look at Emily with a firm tone and playful eyes. “You behave.”

She huffs and settles back against the pillow, but Emily was fighting with a smile. To you it appears she was grumbling under her breath which was oh so common with law officials. When you leave the room, Morgan looks at Prentiss with a knowing look. In her state, she was genuinely confused. “What?”

“You’re making heart eyes with the nurse.”

“What? I … wasn’t. No way I was doing … whatever that thing you said I’m doing. It didn’t happen,” she says with a scowl.

“Heart eyes,” he reminds her.

 “Whatever,” she snips. “Has to be the head injury.”

“Uh huh.” He looks back at the curtains then at his partner. “She’s your type too …”

“I’m not having this conversation right now,” she says, stopping Morgan from talking further about the nurse that was definitely her physical type. Plus, you were clearly smart and had a fun side at the bedside that made her smile.

Morgan smirks, seeing the dopey look. He knows she’s thinking about you. “When you’re better, then.”

“I’ll probably won’t remember this stupid conversation then either.” She ends the topic by crossing her arms and looking away from Derek. A perfect model of a petulant Prentiss.

Emily does hates that he was right. The question that remains is if she was going to do anything about it after Morgan’s teasing that would inevitably come at a later date.

Two weeks went by since you discharged Agent Emily Prentiss and life went on. You were working a double today in the ER.

“Let’s get a bag of O neg going on Bay 2 and prep endo for a scope.” You put the orders in and use the inter-hospital chat through the EMR* with Dr. Aorsen who is the GI specialist on call. Poor patient had a bleeding ulcer.

One of the techs calls your name and you answer without looking up, continuing to type up the H&P* on the patient so there will be no delays in the procedure. You answer with a pen dangling between your teeth. “Yeah?”

“An Agent Prentiss is here to see you.”

The pen drops from your lips as you swivel your chair around to look at the disheveled tech in surprise. “Uh, what?”

You couldn’t have heard that right.

He throws a thumb over his shoulder and nods in confirmation. “Fed named Prentiss is here to see you.”

Your eyes dart around the room trying to figure out why she is here and come up empty. “Is she here by herself?”

“Yep.”

“O … kay. Yeah. I’ll see what she needs. Tell her I need ten minutes to finish something before I can see her. Thanks, Marc.”

“Kay.” He wanders off and you finish your necessary charting. You weren’t going to drop everything to speak with her just yet when a patient needs your attention. Though your mind couldn’t grasp why she was here. You sent over the medical report on Agent Prentiss to the FBI the same week you discharged her. Nothing was out of the ordinary in your report. She suffered a typical concussion and filled out all the workers’ compensation documentation for the feds. It was way worse than filling out the damn metro police claims, and it took over an hour to finish.

Once you have all the necessary orders and documentation for your patient to go to endo, you meander through the nurses’ station and down the hall to where Emily is waiting. She currently has her hands behind her back which shows off the gun holstered to her hip. The white button down was under a black blazer that made her professionally beautiful and it was nice to see her be more casual from the waist down with jeans and black work boots.

And then there you are in your navy-blue scrubs, lab coat, hair up in a messy bun, and a stethoscope hanging around your neck. She definitely looks put together and was easy on your tired eyes.

Emily is distracting herself as she waits for you by taking in all the scenery around her from laundry bins to rolling medical equipment. But when she sees you, she visibly perks up and shifts on her feet.

You wonder if Emily is nervous but that is ridiculous. You push that thought out of your mind as you smile to greet her. “This is a surprise, Agent Prentiss.”

“Ah, Emily’s just fine. This isn’t anything official.” She says it a bit too quickly that makes your brows raise up in question.

“Well, that’s good. I was wondering.” You look her up and down and see that’s she’s recovered nicely, even if she isn’t relaxed speaking with you. Her hands are still behind her back. “You look well.”

“So, do you,” she says a bit too quickly when your eyes narrow in thought to her response. “I mean … for working long hours are the ER. It’s not easy.”

Your head moves to the left in curiosity as to where this was going. “Definitely not, but I love it. Wouldn’t be anywhere else. Though …” you bring your arm up and slowly gesture towards back down the hall “ … I’m sorry to be abrupt but with patients waiting … can you let me know how I can help you, Emily?”

You see her look mortified at keeping you waiting and that is when her arms swing around to her front, one crossing her abdomen. She was definitely nervous, but it is unclear why.

“Yes, I did want to thank you and see …” She nervously licks her lower lip, and your eyes are inevitably drawn to the motion.

You were hanging on her next words. The moment between you is filled with the sounds of electronic beeps, a patient moaning in confusion, and then the old Batman TV show theme goes off alerting your hospital that an ambulance was calling in a patient on the emergency line affectionately dubbed ‘The Bat Phone’ by the hospital. That seemingly jolts her back from looking at anything but you.

“ … well, see … you,” she says bashfully.

Your eyes widen. “See me?” You sound as confused as you appear.

“Yes,” Emily confirms with a hesitant nod.

Your eyes dart upwards in continued bewilderment before settling on her hopeful-looking brown orbs. “Look, I’m a complete idiot right now. Why did you need to see me?” You smile brightly with encouragement.

That seemingly provides the necessary motivation to be direct. “Yes. Socially. As in … dinner …?” Though Emily did end the last part awkwardly and began to flick at her thumbnail that was lying against her thigh.

Now with Emily’s intentions clear, you take a step back in wonder. “You’re asking me … out?”

Seeing that you took a step back makes Emily frown, thinking you weren’t interested. “Well, I was …”

“And you came here. To ask me out.” Your continuation of confusion is making her slowly back up towards the exit.

“Yeah, I’m sorry. I …” she loosens the hold she has on her stomach and gracelessly swings her arms as she is about to turn, and hits the linen cart, causing a pile of towels and washcloths to tumble onto the floor. “Oh my god! I am so sorry!”

She crouches down to pick them up as you do the same but sliding to your knees. This wasn’t your first laundry pile up in the ER. “Hey, it’s okay!”

“No, it’s not.” Emily’s pale face was flushing prettily, and it makes you smile. “I made a mess.”

“Sweetie, this isn’t even close to a mess in my ER. Ever drop a commode?” That makes her laugh and diffuses the tension between you a little, but she was avoiding eye contact with you.

You both work at cleaning up when the two of you end up grabbing a towel at the same time. There was a quick game of tug of war and that finally brought her eyes up to see you. She was nervous and expectant, ready to run off in a heartbeat.

You give her your answer. “Yes.”

Her head leans in with disbelief. “Yes … what?” She asks hesitantly, needing confirmation.

“Yes, I’ll go out with you.” And just like that, you broke your rule about dating officers. There was something enigmatically irresistible about her and Emily mustered the courage to come down to your place of work to ask you out. How sweet is that?

Emily is too fucking adorable as her face works through the shock of what you said. “Oh … kay.” She nods. “Good. I mean …” She grins wide and bright. “Great.”

You both remain on the floor for a couple of beats before you lower your head, eyes studying Emily with a coy look. “Does this mean I can have the towel back?”

She busts out laughing and finally lets go.

That was a little over a month ago and you found out on your first date that it was her partner, Morgan, that helped talk Emily through her concerns. She explained how he was not just a good friend but was also like a brother to her. You were happy that Emily took this chance, and it was the happiest time of your life. You never thought that you’d find a partner that was able to understand the demands of your job and education by someone not in healthcare. Emily’s job is mentally, physically and emotionally draining like yours and despite the differences in careers, you understand the depts of humanity. Emily saw the worst of it and tried to bring the criminals to justice or at least provide closure for the victims and families. You do the same in your own way trying to save as many lives as you can as well as being the one to break bad news to people who loved your patients fiercely. You also saw the worst in a different way – shootings, stabbings, rapes, protests gone ugly. You and DC metro had a lot to talk about a lot of time. But the times you make a child smile when feeling terrible, or provide information that eases the mind of a patient that was so scared of why they were sick, or even the simple bedside talk to show you were a human being that truly cared, it was worth all the shit you dealt with.

But in between the long hours and when Emily was out of town, you make time for one another. Simple dinners, going out to the movies, long walks discussing nothing and everything, but the best was when Emily took you to the Smithsonian to see the staff carefully place a Santa hat on the life size brontosaurus display since Christmas was just around the corner. You didn’t even know they did that, and Emily was so pleased with herself at seeing your face light up in wonder. You of course took a selfie together after it was placed, but it ended up being at an awkward angle where you both were laughing as you were pointing to the dinosaur.

When you weren’t together, you had long talks over the phone and constant texts when Emily was on a case to make sure she was doing alright, which she did for you too! You both cared about your workaholic selves and kept reminding each other to take a break, eat and drink more than just beer when off the clock. Emily was able to keep work at work when in the moment with you but you could hear the weight of Emily’s job straining her voice. A hint of raw insight to her true feelings. You never push. Your relationship was still new, and you both were still learning one another.

When Christmas came, you were coming off a sixteen-hour shift that started right before 7am Christmas Eve. You were exhausted, the status quo for any resident, but you were also determined. This was your first Christmas with Emily, and you wanted to make it special. She admitted that the relationship she has with her mother is complicated and didn’t need, nor want, to show her face at one of her mother’s extravagant Christmas parties. Emily would just be shown off for propriety’s sake. It was easier being home alone with leftovers that Rossi made on Christmas Eve of pasta, seafood, and amazing Italian beef and sausages right after midnight. Between that, the homemade cookies gifted to her by Garcia, and a six pack of Stella bottled beer, Emily settled in for the day watching Die Hard because it is, and always we be, a Christmas movie. If you wanted to disagree with her, Emily was ready to fight.

By mid-afternoon, John McClane is crawling through the air vents and iconically complaining about ‘Come out to the coast, we’ll get together, have a few laughs…’ line when there’s a knock at Emily’s door. This confuses her because she wasn’t expecting anyone and you were at the hospital working. You told her that this morning over the phone during a break that, unsurprisingly, the hospital was short staffed, and they needed you. She put down Garcia’s festively colored frosted chocolate cookies and went to see who it was.

Which is why when she looks out through the peephole of the door, she gasps and quickly starts unlocking the door. She holds out her arms in surprise at the sight of you and speaks an octave higher in greeting. “What are you doing here?! You said you had to work tonight!”

She was all smiles seeing you … and you weren’t wearing your work clothes. You have on jeans, an ugly Christmas sweater that said ‘Fabulously Grinchy’ and arms full of bags. Emily was distinctively not festive on purpose with grey shorts and a baggy Yale sweatshirt. Even the black slippers were humdrum. It empowers you to see this and that you made the right decision to surprise her this way.

“Well, I lied,” you explain as she takes some of the bags from you. “Surprise!”

She steps aside to let you in and smells the familiar scents of pasta, sauce and bread. “What did you do?” she asks cautiously.

“I made Christmas dinner for us.” You beam, spinning around carefully in the living room with your arms out to display the bags. “Just need to warm it all up.

As you really did have to work long hours at the hospital, you enjoyed Skyping with your parents who lived of town while making homemade manicotti. It was your tradition to cook together, and it was nice to do it together this way. Thankfully you still had some frozen homemade pasta sauce that you could use and not be considered a heathen to your family because no daughter of theirs was going to serve their girlfriend pasta sauce from a jar.

“Oh my god,” she says your name and follows you quickly into the kitchen, trying to catch up. “You … you really didn’t have to go through all this trouble. And, really, why are you doing this? You’ve gotta be so tired after working a long shift. You should be relaxing.” Emily knew you did work today since she heard the intercom and all the various beeps, whirls and whistles of a hospital.

You left the bags on the island counter and start fiddling with the oven controls. “Eh, I’ve had worse.” You smirk over your shoulder. “So have you. Therefore, we deserve a nice Christmas not alone. Now. … ” you start looking for oven mitts and utensils by pulling out drawers and opening cabinets. You’ve been here once before and don’t have the lay of the land yet where Emily keeps everything.

What you didn’t know is that Emily is standing by the island counter with a firm grip on the edge because she is feeling a powerful rush of affection for you and a profound sense of guilt. She swallows hard and almost jerks with her movements in trying to find words to address you.

“Hey, Emily? Where’s the spatula? I don’t need to whisk anything, and you got like, three of them here.” With no answer, you turn around with the whisks in hand and a goofy smile which soon falls into a look of concern. Emily was staring at you with watery eyes.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” you ask, quickly setting aside the whisks that roll around the counter. One drops and bounces off the floor, but you don’t care. You place your hands around Emily’s shoulders and rub soothing circles. “Talk to me, please.”

Her face scrunches to the side, still struggling with guilt. “You shouldn’t be doing this. You’re tired. You should be sleeping. Or resting. Or just –“

You cut her off by gently cupping her face. Your thumbs continue their gentle stroking along Emily’s cheeks. “If I didn’t want to be here, I wouldn’t be.” You smile with sincerity. “Only place I wanna be.”

“Fucking sap,” she says, curling her hands around your forearms. You both naturally bring your foreheads together in that moment and feel Emily’s shaky inhalation of breath. “I don’t deserve this.” She feels the need to clarify. “You.”

You close your eyes and ask nonjudgmentally. “Why?”

“Because I’m gonna mess it up. I always find a way to do it. Even if it’s not exactly me.” She sighs. “Like work, or my mother…”

“Hey, don’t do that.” You bring your hands down while lifting your head to gaze into Emily’s eyes. “Anticipating. We just gotta take it day by day and right now, I feel, that this is a good one.”

“Yeah?” she says quietly, licking her dry lips.

“Yeah,” you confirm, bringing one of her hands up to gently kiss. What you’re about to say you feel in your heart and it has been growing for the last week. Perhaps it was too soon to say it, but Emily deserves to know how you feel and that despite this being new, this was a relationship you were determined to see where it takes the both of you. “Maybe if I give you one of your presents, it’ll help you feel better?”

Her eyes look along the ceiling while she chucks. “Maybe.”

You lean forward and cup her cheek, gently caressing it until you lock eyes. “I love you, Emily Prentiss.”

Her audible gasp at the admission is swallowed by your lips gently kissing hers. The kiss was soft, a silent signature of proof to the words already spoken. It is affirmation that you want to be here with Emily, and you feel her free hand slide around your waist as she steps closer. The press of her body forces a sigh from your lips which makes Emily smile against yours.

“I love you, too.” She confesses quietly, pulling your joined hands against her chest. “And it scares me.”

“Well, here’s the good news.” Emily pulls back to look at you, brown eyes equally fearful and exhilarated, as she waits for what you must share. Your smile helps to ground her. “We get to be scared together.”

She laughs as a couple of tears fall free and you reach up to wipe them away. As she leans into your touch, Emily asks you a question since she has doubts about this gift of yours, no matter how much she treasures it. “Was that really one of my gifts?”

“No,” you admit and kiss her forehead. “But it’s all true. Consider it a bonus.”

Emily looks up to you with a smile that lights up the entire room. “Mm, I do like the sound of that,” she says before capturing your lips once again.

*Vetarans Affairs

*EMR - Electronic Medical Record

*H&P - History and Physical

[peggyao3]

Relic - Pt. 10 "Fettered Flesh"

PAIRING: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Unnamed Ambiguous FMC

SUMMARY: ✧ Dreams are messages from the deep ✧

A woman from the unknown comes to Feyd in his dreams and his nights become his days as he flees to the dreamscape to escape the nightmares that haunt his waking hours.

TAGS: 18+, smut, she/her AFAB FMC, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, oral sex, Porn with Plot, Feyd-Rautha's black cum and big cock, Praise Kink, Body Worship, angst/hurt and comfort, drama, fluff, Frank Herbert would frown, some politics, implied/referenced (child) abuse❗, Trauma, mentions of suicidal thoughts❗, Healing, Strangers to Lovers, falling in love, Vulnerable/Emotional/Possessive Feyd, Feyd is a sweet baby who did nothing wrong and I WILL pamper him, nurture not nature, Stockholm Syndrome but in a consensual way, lucid dreaming, implied/referenced cannibalism❗, Murder, Female rage, Teaching the Universe about Feminism, Angst with a Happy Ending

WORD COUNT: 5k

A/N: HELLO PRECIOUS PEOPLE 💕 Shit hits the Giedi Prime fan, so get out your umbrellas!! I feel like with every chapter I'm getting more excited 🥹 And everyone who has left a comment is to blame 😭 I appreciate it so greatly 😭 I've recently started an internship thingy (in a manner of baby's first real job experience lmao), so I have a bit less time to write, but chapter 11 and 12 are finished already, so I do have a bit of food in stock 💪

Reposted from my Ao3 💕| Masterlist | Relic Masterlist

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

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Day 5

Jealousy is a beast, but loneliness is a monster.

Jealousy ignites with fiery tendrils but loneliness drowns you slowly until you're staring up from the bottom of the pitch black sea, yearning for the light.

All day she's been mulling over the three woman-creatures, Feyd's "pets". What is it that infuriates her the most? The physical violence? The fear of what they might have done to her - Death, torture or worse? Their derogatory status? Their beastliness grafted into female bodies, paired with the fact that Feyd has been bedding them at some point?

Without thinking about it, and perhaps it is tactless, she has been pouring her heart out to Lilia while the attentive handmaid is treating her scabbed injuries from last night. Now it is evident that wound management is a well-needed skill around the Harkonnen palace. The sarcophagus is safely folded up and her new weapon is tucked into one of the compartments.

"Am I overreacting?!" She asks, even though - hell no - she knows she isn't, but a part of her soul yearns for human connection, affirmation, camaraderie, friendship. It feels so good to be talking to someone who is not the man she thought she knew or the belittling Bene Gesserit sisters.

"Hmm," Lilia begins tentatively and the glowglobe light brings out the unusual color of her eyes as she tilts her head, so amber that they almost appear golden. "While I'll say it's never been common for the na-Baron to practice monogamy… I'll also say that I'd be quite furious at my husband if he had three women on the side." Her voice quivers upon women, as if it repels her to describe the three beings as such. The spider in the Baron's throne room may be the most harmless monster to roam these halls.

The engineer's questions chip away and it becomes perfectly clear that it's the jealousy that cuts the deepest, even with her superficial wounds cared for, a blade is wedged inside her guts that will keep on cutting.

"And do these 'pets' have handmaids too?" A self-destructive question to determine where her own status truly lies. What's a bride but another pet to him?

"They used to have handmaids…" Lilia hesitates. "But they always ended up eating them. I'm glad to be assigned to you, my Lady."

Great. There she has another horror to add to the menagerie.

Lilia continues: "If it calms you, I doubt there will be any further incidences with them. The na-Baron has been in an, uhm, unstable mood since last night." The maid's posture turns rigid. She shouldn't be speaking about the na-Baron like that, but the Earth woman's emotions are contagious. Lilia will get herself killed if she's not careful. She's been telling that to herself since she was a little girl.

"Unstable, uh-huh, well so am I."

The Harkonnen woman nods and decides it is best not to elaborate on what it means when Feyd-Rautha is having the worst day of his life.

Vladimir Harkonnen chuckles with delight at his nephew's distress and the infantile killing spree that has been painting the halls black since last night.

It took even less time than he expected, for the new woman to be disgusted by his poor nephew and he cannot hold it against her. Feyd-Rautha is a raging child in an unfortunately manly body. 

The Baron is well-entertained by the hollow screams that blare down the hallways. First the three harpies. A shame, they had helped keep Feyd settled so nicely and they hadn't been cheap either. It's also a shame that the Bene Tleilax don't offer bulk discount, considering the number of Gholas the Baron saw himself forced to commission for the little game his nephew and he have been playing.

Next on Feyd's blade was the guard at his little witch's door, then anyone who crossed his path in the night, all the while Feyd was chafing with desire to be cut and hurt. But no one outside of the ring is allowed to raise their blades against the Baron's heir apparent, unless instructed by the Harkonnen sovereign himself.

Some fire has returned to his nephew since the woman's arrival and he appreciates that, yes, he does, but he will keep a sharp eye on the two of them. He has no doubt that she's a Bene Gesserit agent who has implanted phantasms in Feyd-Rautha's mind, but Vladimir is willing to play the sisterhood's game, for his nephew's sake, even though he had sworn to never let a witch enter his fortress again. 

Not since Lady Margot Fenring had tried to steal his lovely boy's precious seed. Luckily, Feyd's blade had worked quicker than the thief's vocal chords.

But Valdimir is willing to adapt. The boy had been boring him to death for the past two years and he used to be so entertaining and feisty!

In the evening hours after a night and day of bloodshed, Feyd still has stamina (a trait the Baron cherishes so dearly about his nephew) and comes barging into the guarded dining room, bringing with him the cloying scent of blood that sticks to the tacky soles of his boots. He wears the clothes of yesterday and blood lust in his eyes.

Careful now.

Vladimir gives no sign to the guards, chews without haste and takes a noisy gulp of wine, making sure a bead rolls down the folds of his massive neck. The muscle at his nephew's jaw twitches and his fingers strangulate the blood-slick handle of his blade.

The eight arm-legged arachnid creature shivers in its basket under the table, eager to get to Feyd, partly because his boots smell yummy, but it doesn't dare move away from the Baron's feed. Smart thing.

"Don't look at me like that. It's not my fault that she doesn't like you, boy."

Feyd halts as if struck by one of the bolts of infrared lightning that cook the atmosphere during the summer months. Tension strains his neck, a bull ready to charge at his Matador and for a second the Baron thinks he'll have to switch on his shield ring. But his nephew turns and barges off with bouncing, stomping steps, draining his stamina and wetting his knives on everything that breathes, when the only one he really wants to kill sits fat and mighty on his throne. 

It's almost cute, Vladimir thinks. The boy could kill him so easily now, if he really put his cunning, little mind to it. He's strong enough, smart enough, but his spirit - that's the crux. Feyd's spirit is broken and riddled with fear of the punishments. The last time he tried was at 17 and then never again.

Ah-h-h, yes, the Baron has conditioned him well and he considers it his retirement plan. Age hasn't left the Harkonnen sovereign unscathed and while his mind may still be sharp (or else how would he have come up with such a genius plan!), his morbidly obese body fully relies on the protection of his shield ring, guards, lung machine and poison snoopers. But as long as the boy still fears him, the deadliest threat within these halls remains on a pretty, silver leash.

The fire of jealousy has dwindled down and now all she does is miss him, sitting lonely in her room, lonely on this planet, lonely in the universe with only inanimate objects and the virtual messages and images of dead people to keep her company. None of this can ever compare to the warm hands of her beloved and his smile, the roundness of his cheeks and his painted teeth. She misses the way his eyes used to crinkle just for her. He had made her believe that only she could make him smile and offer a sliver of peace to his soul.

It's been two years since their last dream. Why wouldn't he have taken other women?

He said he "hasn't touched them". Since when? Since he learned she's alive? Since their first dreams? Ever?

She regrets now that she denied him when he knocked on her door an hour ago. The bitter guilt of disgracing oneself crawls over her when she slowly moves towards the door, but her self-respect has cauterized and become cinders along with her fury. Feeling sick to her stomach, she places her hand on the panel and the heavy door slides open.

Finding herself face to back with a guard in bulky plate armor, she halts. She wouldn't know where exactly to find Feyd's room anyway. The man turns on his heels and salutes briskly before returning his hand to the hilt of his saber.

"Good evening. Ah, wait, are you… New?" She blurts out, not meaning to seem disrespectful. The Harkonnens often do look quite alike to her, but she could have sworn the old guard was a little shorter.

"Yes, my Lady." The man looks right above the crown of her head, avoiding her eyes.

"What happened to the other guard?"

"He was replaced, my Lady."

That does make sense and she's almost a little relieved. She wouldn't want anyone who'd let these bloodthirsty creatures inside to guard her and her most valuable possession. However, she still hopes this incident won't ruin his chances of employment indefinitely.

"I see." She glances cautiously down the austere corridor. Past the windows, there is only blackness and the occasional faraway rumble from the factories. "Do you have to stand here all night? Your feet must be hurting. What about a chair?"

"I'm not allowed such luxuries."

"Says who? You can't excel at your job while being overworked and your feet are aching in those boots." 

The man wonders if the na-Baron's Lady wishes to insult or test him. "I am at full capacity, my Lady!" He salutes again. "I have no complaints about my boots."

"Fine, alright. Could you please point me the way to Feyd's room then? I want to see him. No need to accompany me, I'm sure I'll find it, just make sure no one enters my room, please?"

"Sorry!" The man extends his arm to the side, stopping her advance around him without laying a finger on the Lady. "The na-Baron has ordered this door to be sealed unless he or your handmaid demand entrance."

"Well I don't demand entrance, I want to exit. I want to see Feyd."

The guard grows queasy. That scenario was not included in his instructions. To be fair, the briefing for his new position can be considered rudimental at best but he didn't complain. Up here has been the safest spot in the palace tonight. "The na-Baron doesn't welcome visitors in his private quarters."

"But I'm his…" She swallows uncomfortably. "Betrothed, or am I not?"

"You are, my Lady."

"So, couldn't you perhaps call him?"

The poor guard's expression says 'I'd rather not'. The na-Baron has only just settled, finally, and even the dumbest desert rat knows not to wake a sleeping tiger. All evening long he's been wondering how many of his comrades will be dead come the morning and he doesn't want to be the next one to become fodder for the slaves' food rations. "I'm sorry, my Lady. It is against the protocol to disturb the na-Baron at night unless there is an emergency. Is there an emergency?"

"No…" The woman's expression twists into defeat and she pads backwards with slackened shoulders and somber eyes. "I'm sorry to have bothered you."

The door slides shut and she is too sad to even be angry about her gentle imprisonment. There's nothing out there for her anyway, except for Feyd, and if he doesn't want to see her…

Self-destructive thoughts sprout from the cinders in her chest and grow into the wildest phantasms. The guard was too kind to tell her Feyd has visitors in his room. Perhaps he explicitly decreed that she is not to join him.

To prevent herself from hurtling into a bottomless spiral, she must find a distraction. Nearly choking on bitter tears, she opens up the virtual app drawer that she's most familiar with and selects the 3d-modeling tool. A nice, little task to keep her thoughts from straying is exactly what she needs, and so she settles down on the bed and begins to design a practical, foldable, printable chair for her guard, thoughtfully optimizing stability and the required resources.

The engineer doesn't notice when her tears dry, but they do.

Day 6

She sleeps awfully that night, despite the chip's helpful sleeping program consisting of gentle rain and soothing frequencies. It can't have been much longer than two hours when she is awoken by a knock on the door, followed by another, more insistent one a moment later.

The 3d-modeling interface still overlays reality when her eyes snap open and her sluggish brain activity requires a moment to shut it down. She was almost finished with the printable chair parts last night, but she must have dozed off eventually. 

The knocking persists and she calls: "Lilia?"

A pause. "It's me." An unmistakable, deep and raspy voice comes muffled from the other side. Feyd-Rautha, freshly showered and dressed in a clean, casual suit, leans his forehead against the cool, thick plastic, breathing hard and fast so that his respiration condenses on the door. Waiting, he pleads silently for mercy. He cannot do this anymore, doesn't want to kill anymore just to feel something other than fear.

She freezes, legs half swung off the mattress as anxiety twists her belly. All of her jealousy comes crashing back and a little demon whispers poison in her ear: Go back to your hyenas and toy around with them, not me!

When silence is the answer to Feyd's timid greeting, his stomach drops as if filled with lead. Blood pounds in his ears like the war drums on his birthdays and his breath becomes shallow, so that he no longer even hears the guard's antsy shuffling. What will he do if she never forgives him? 

A harrowing need for violence flashes through him cold and dark and his twitching hand jerks for the blade at his hip but the door rushes open before he can brandish it and his woman faces him with crossed arms, her face puffy from sleep but her eyes are wide and vulnerable.

She beckons him to enter and he follows, eyes racing to the crowns of thorns in the vase, the sarcophagus, the ruffled bed, everything the way it was. How does she deal with pain?!

"Hello," Feyd mumbles, voice reduced to a tiny, grated whisper.

"Hello."

"Can we… talk?"

The relic nods and waits, clammy fingers clutching her sleeves. But then Feyd says… nothing. His eyes are focused on an imaginary point somewhere behind her navel and his jaws strain as if chewing a brick.

So, she begins: "I'm sorry, but I was very upset." She paces, shoulders drawn up. "I know that customs are different around here, I mean, they obviously are," she guffaws quietly and shakes her head. "But where I'm from, it requires consent to have more than one partner and I never gave you that consent. I've never given my consent to anything that's happened to me since I woke up! And then I found out you're alive and I can be with you and I really believed everything would finally be better, but you-" Her voice hiccups. "I'm very upset, okay?" Her lips twist and she lifts a hand to her mouth, sobbing quietly into her palm. "You're so different in real life."

Feyd's frozen limbs regain their agility and he jumps to her side as she tries to turn away, a swift predator despite his anguish. He clutches her by the arms. "Wait! Remind me. H-How was I in our dreams?" 

"I- I don't know, you looked happy." Her arms burn where he's holding onto her with his broad palms and long fingers. "And you were kind."

"Have I not been kind to you?"

"To me, yes. But being kind only to me is not enough." She shakes her head bitterly.

"What do you want me to do?" 

"Be honest with me. Who are these three?! They said you don't play with them anymore like you used to, and they hurt me, Feyd!" She writhes out of his clenched fists and he lets her because when her fingers skim his wrists, all his muscles go weak. She yanks up her shirt, showing off the healing gash on her waist.

Feyd wants to kill his darlings all over again and his sinful mouth twists into anger. "They used to be my pets. Pleasure slaves, if you will. Just some meaningless toys, nothing more, I swear it to you."

"Pleasure slaves!" She blurts out, shaking her head. At least he's being honest but - what the fuck?! "You-" Stumbling over her own words, she backs away from him with disgust. "Who are you? Who the fuck are you?"

More violence waits on her tongue. Does he respect anyone other than himself?

"You know me! You know who I am, where are you going?!" Doesn't she know she knows more about him than anyone else?

"I don't know shit about you!" She yells. "Where were you last night?"

"What?" All color is drained from his face. How could she know?

"Were you with them because I couldn't perform the way you wanted the other day?"

"What are you talking about?!" Feyd tries to grasp her by the arms once more but she twists away. If anything, he is at blame for being unable to make his woman comfortable enough to reach her release. What a pitiful good-for-nothing he is, pathetic down to the last, rotting cell. "I haven't touched my pets since I met you and that's the truth!"

"Oh, yeah? Then why was I not allowed to see you at night?" 

"What makes you say that?" 

"I tried to come to you last night, but the guard at my door said I'm supposed to stay in this room! So, were you with them?!"

Feyd stops his advance and an incredulous shimmer glazes over his blinking eyes. He could have held her last night, against his hurting heart. A dizzying lightness befalls his chest and sorrow becomes anger and anger wings his footsteps when he turns to the door, grinning, then giggling. Feyd slams his veined hand against the panel so hard, the screen cracks and inky blood slips down the valleys of his palm.

"Feyd? Feyd! What are you-"

The baffled guard faces the snickering na-Baron behind the opening door, last night's tiger resurrected like a Ghola for one last kill. A stammered 'my Lord' on diddering lips. Feyd-Rautha looks as bestial as his hyenas with prowling steps and rolling shoulders, searing eyes locked on his unmoving prey.

"You told my woman she couldn't see me last night? S'that right?" A slip of pink peeks out of the ghastly frame of black, gnashing teeth.

"My Lord, I beg your mercy, I didn't wish to distur-"

Metal flashes. The relic screams as the length of Feyd-Rautha's blade carves into the guard's pallid neck, Adam's apple bulging and sitting on the knife like a popped, black cherry. Blood sputters around Feyd's clenched fingers and laughter has faded from his lungs at once. He digs deeper as the guard draws in gurgling breaths, bubbles of air swimming in the blood around the metal.

The relic freezes like a mouse, glued to the spot as if she might turn invisible to the cold eyes of the beast who wears her lover's clothes. He looks nothing like Feyd-Rautha now, his features empty and alien with eyes that don't feel and hands unfazed by the death that stains them in thick, inky streams that roll down his victim's neck. 

This is how the universe sees him.

Feyd's blade slashes sideways, spraying a half moon of blood across the corridor and when the guard stumbles, he falls back into the na-Baron's knife, adding a vertical gash to the horizontal one, tip sinking into the flesh under his jaws, and with a jerk - up into his tongue.

The man grunts, still clinging to his life by a thread, and lurches forwards without drawing his sword. His head falls on Feyd-Rautha's shoulder. Feet shuffle in a grotesque waltz and Feyd's bloody fingers slip around the taller man's neck, holding him there while his blade plunges into his belly between armor plates so deftly, he could find all the weak spots blindfolded. The body slackens, weighing down on Feyd-Rautha whose ichor dripping fingers aren't ready to let go.

Shuk! Shuk! 

Is the sound of his blade sinking into soft flesh and viscera, whipping back out with a spray of blood and entrails.

The Bene Gesserit may have proclaimed her human, but the adrenaline that sets her nerves ablaze is a gift from her ancestors, animals, because that's what humans are at the end or the day when facing a bigger predator.

Fwump.

Feyd looks her way, the dead body dropped, and blood covers his hand like a shiny glove of ink, dripping down the blade tip in a drizzling stream. The light catches on the sharp edges of his alabaster skull and all she sees is a new, terrifying breed of human, birthed by a world of poison and decay. There are millennia between them. They may share the same DNA but that doesn't mean he is not an alien to her. 

In the end, the man from her dreams is not the man of her dreams.

Out the door? - Blocked! Death!

Off the balcony?! - Death!

To the Sarcophagus then. To her gun.

She turns and sprints, feet skidding over the shards of her rose-colored glasses, but Feyd pounces, a beast hungry for carnage, and catches her around the waist, hurling her backwards with the strength of three men. His blade clatters to the ground.

"No, wait. No. NO! NO! You can't go," he howls. "You cannot leave me!"

Wailing, she thrashes in his grasp and slams her elbow into his guts, her foot against his shin, then his crotch and the soft flesh there is squashed by her heel. When his hold slackens, she twists away and bolts, bare toes slipping across icy marble, but blood-smeared fingers find her shoulder, tearing on the fabric. She throws herself away from him so hard, the seam starts coming apart, so his other hand flies to her throat, steel-hard fingers curling around clammy flesh, yanking her around and against the wall.

She can't be looking at him like that, like he's the devil. Like he looks at his uncle.

Desperately, his lips search for hers but she jerks her head to the side, bites, scratches, nails burrowing into his throat. No is the word that Feyd-Rautha raps out between violent kisses that seek her pulse point with his tongue and teeth, no, she can't ever leave him, no, not ever, even if she hates him like everyone else. Her fear poisons the sweat on her neck and her nails don't egg him on, they hurt. He takes a knee to the guts and his lungs pop open for a harrowed cry.

Pain used to be pleasure but everything hurts, she doesn't love him anymore. One more meek and quiet final 'no' as he abandons the assault on her neck and his slackened arms wrap around her middle, hiding his face from rejection in her shoulder's soft flesh. Tears drip hotly, finally. All day and all night he's been waiting for the cathartic downpour, but not even the most pitiful plea could rouse a sliver of empathy in the hollow of his chest. Now he bawls like a baby forgotten in its crib and his blood-soaked hands seek purchase at the back of her shirt.

The woman grows still, nails still wedged inside the bloody crescent indents in his neck. Her lungs ache when she draws a trembling breath and Feyd-Rautha's hard, heavy chest moves with her, no more fight left in him. Quietly, she cries with him and curls her arms around his round shoulders, holding him there as he clings to her like an abandoned child and sheds tears for all the hurt and all the fear.

The man of her dreams is still there, somewhere, under the alien shell, vulnerable, weeping.

"You hate me, don't you?" A broken sob.

Looking over his head, the dead guard's viscera glitters darkly on the hallway and she is surprised to realize that even now, she doesn't hate him.

Feyd continues: "This is why I never wanted you to know who I am. I am awful."

"You're not awful," she whispers, fingers slipping around the back of his head, nails rimmed darkly by Feyd's blood.

"I have to be awful. I was born to be awful." 

"That's not true…" He was groomed to be awful.

But Feyd isn't finished. In a fashion of now or never, confessions spill out of him like poison rain. "I killed my mother when I was four. I don't remember why. I killed my pets. I kill men for sport. I kill people for fun. I kill because it's the only thing I can do. Yesterday, I-" His voice breaks. "I killed anyone I could find and no one fought back. I lo-o-ost count."

A full glass can't get any fuller when pouring more water, so shock and disgust are lost to the acceptance that has smoothed over the crescendo. They're just information to be added into a folder in her head. Feyd killed his mother. Feyd kills people for fun. Still, she holds him, fingers sliding up and down the back of his head as his shaky sobbing turns breathless and ugly.

"Okay," she whispers and rests her cheek on his head, exhaling softly so her warm breath fans his scalp. "For fun?"

"Ye-e-es."

"So, you had fun last night when you-" She swallows. "Killed?"

"No."

She lets out a thoughtful hum and Feyd's grip on the small of her back tightens. Still, he doesn't dare look at her and tears and snot have soaked her shirt. With her emotions currently defective, her ability for logic is still sharp, and so she concludes, it does all make sense.

Her poor Feyd, a current had pulled him under when he was barely a child and then layer after layer, he has been building his armor so as not to drown in the maelstrom of abuse. With every kill, a little boy has been screaming for help in an empty room.

Soft lips press a kiss to the crown of his head and Feyd's breath trembles in her hold, a beast tamed by a loving caress. That's all it takes.

Just because she understands his actions, doesn't mean she endorses them.

"Will you still be my wife?"

"I haven't decided yet." Another kiss so gentle, it taunts the corpses stacked up in the processing hall.

"So, we're no longer engaged?" 

"I don't think we ever were, not to me. But that doesn't mean I don't love you."

Dizzily, Feyd-Rautha raises himself. If not for the fingers twisted into his woman's shirt, he might just topple back into the spinning vortex at whose edge he is teetering now, one foot in heartbreak, the other in salvation. Blue eyes crack open, rimmed with dark blood vessels. She doesn't flinch, doesn't bolt, only her hands slide to the front of his suit and slip under the lapels, thumb rubbing where his heart hammers.

Feyd sees the tracks of dried tears on her cheeks and the shadow of horror tucked away in the corners of her eyes in a way that is all too familiar to him. More than anything, he wants to delete the images from her head and close the door, kick the blade under the bed, pretend it never happened. He tried to do everything right, got her flowers, hid her away in her own room away from state matters, made love to her with all his heart, but at the end of the day he is still who he is when he can't hide within a dream and it'll never be enough.

"Feyd, is… Is Lilia okay?"

"Yes, she is," comes the earnest reply and she exhales shakily, head sinking against Feyd's chest, arms sliding around his waist beneath the suit where his skin is burning hot.

"Thank God." Her voice warbles, the only warning before her knees give out and every other muscle along with them. The pair sink to the cold, hard ground.  "I just want to go home," she sobs and crawls in her beloved's lap which is still the only place in the cold, hard universe that soothes her soul.

Not her sarcophagus, although it is tempting to freeze herself up again and sleep forever. No, it is still him. A new home, not what she had imagined, but a home.

"Me too," Feyd sighs and squishes his cheek against the top of her head, closing his eyes to envision the bedroom of their shared dream, blue pillows, a white bed, a softly rustling fern in a terracotta pot, her in his arms. Home.

How easy it would be to demand of him: 'If you kill one more innocent, I will leave you!' But she might just kill more than she saves that way, and maybe him too, and maybe herself.

"Feyd, can you-" She sniffles. "If you get angry again, please never hurt Lilia. And whoever the new guard will be, don’t hurt him either. Can you do that for me please?"

"I promise." He squeezes her tight, eyes screwed up so tightly that he sees only dizzying stars. "I love you. I'm sorry."

She cannot fix the whole world, but she can start where she can see. It's not a solution, but a sapling, and a sapling can grow.

Mother Father How did I end up here, stone bound? All I feel ist the striking distance to the clouds My flesh is fettered on the skin of the soil But even so I almost reach the sparks in the void Sailing through the vacuum, am I drowned or alive?

- Cepheus by Fewjar

A/N: Okay, I promise promise this was the angstiest chapter, we're climbing uphill from here!! 🥺🥺🥺 Hand over your guesses, what do you think will happen from here? 😌💕 Thank you so much for all of your time!

TAG LIST:

@nostalgichoya, @forgedfromthestars, @sweetiee-o, @missbingu, @minedofmoria

@sebastianswallows, @charmingballoon, @flower-frog, @welliah, @aoi-targaryen

@coastalcowgirl35, @esolean, @szapizzapanda, @tatertooted

[butchyeons]

PLEASE write more sub/bottom jeongyeon PLEASE i want that butch obliterated

ask and you shall receive! congrats anon i am using this as a drabble request. lmao, hopefully you won’t mind. i’ve been wanting to write jeongsa for awhile now, so here it is. this will probably be up on ao3 at some point, too. we need more sub jeongyeon, so i hope you enjoy needy loser butch jeongyeon getting absolutely obliterated by her mean femme gf ❤️

party trick

college au jeongsa ig? it’s pure smut. also jihyo’s there for “plot” purposes :)

tags/warnings: mentions of alcohol/semi-drunk sex, pwp, semi-public sex (they’re in a bathroom), mommy kink, jeongyeon gets called puppy idk, verbal humiliation, dirty talk, exhibitionism, implied voyeurism, strap-ons, jeongyeon sucking off the strap. this is crazy icl.

cishet men and minors dni.

———

“Really, Jeongyeon?” Sana huffed out. “We’re at a party. People could catch us.”

The older girl let out a whine, continuing to pull Sana up the stairs. The two of them were at some party in some house on the other side of campus- one of Jihyo’s frat friends had invited them. Quite frankly, it shocked the two of them that they were even told about it. They were pretty well known as the college’s token lesbian couple; the weird-scary-butch music student who was “secretly a man”, and the pretty-ditzy fashion student who was “clearly confused about her sexuality”. They caught a lot of shit for it, tended to stay away from functions such as this one because of it. But hey, they’d never turn down free alcohol. So, after Jihyo begged them to come with her, to just put their resignations aside for a few hours, they did.

The night was fine, the party was booming. A lot of their friends were there, thankfully, which meant they didn’t have to socialize with the straight boys who clearly only wanted them there to watch them make out. There was free food, drinks, questionable music, and a place for them to dance, albeit poorly. What wasn’t to like? It was a good time, and they both needed a break, anyways.

The only problem now was that Jeongyeon was tipsy. And when Jeongyeon was in any way buzzed, she was needy. Not that Sana had an issue with it. She loved to spoil her girl, really. But that was in the sanctity of their own apartment, not some frat house full of a bunch of underage drunk college students puking their brains out.

“Sana- I don’t care.” Jeongyeon said as they got to the top of the stairs. Her words came out slurred, her cheeks bright red as she huffed, looking over at her girlfriend. “I know you wore it. I felt it when you were grinding against me earlier.”

Well. Maybe Sana did want something to happen. She wouldn’t have gone out packing if she didn’t.

“Just because I wore it doesn’t mean you were gonna get anything, Jeongie.”

Jeongyeon whined again, stomping off down the hallway. Sana followed closely behind her, making sure to watch carefully as Jeongyeon tried each and every door until finally, one opened. Before Sana had time to really say anything, the older girl had grabbed her wrist, pulling her inside.

“Please, Sana. I know you. You’re literally my girlfriend.” Jeongyeon huffed out indignantly as she closed and locked the door. “You want it just as bad as I do.”

Sana looked around, examining her surroundings. It was a tiny bathroom, but clearly one that multiple men shared. It was… Well, it was as clean as it possibly could be. Several cans of deodorant strewn across the countertop, toothbrushes everywhere, the vibrations of the music from downstairs causing them to shake with each bass thump. The shower curtain was half open, revealing a hoard of different 3-in-1 shampoo bottles. She was just grateful the toilet seat was closed, and that there was even a toilet brush next to it. Clearly, someone cared. Thank god they did.

However, this was still risky. They were in public- at a party they were clearly only invited to so a bunch of boys could gawk at them, in some sketchy bathroom that wasn’t theirs. Anyone could come up there and find them. Sana had half a mind to put her foot down, to take her girlfriend downstairs and trick her by giving her shots of water so she’d sober up faster; they could go back home and finish things there. But before she had any time to protest, Jeongyeon was already on her knees in front of her, haphazardly grabbing at the front of her skirt.

“I just don’t think we should do this here, baby.” Sana said, swatting at Jeongyeon’s hands.

Jeongyeon pouted again, leaning her head against Sana’s thigh.

“Please? ‘S your fault I’m needy. You wore it, you knew I’d want it…”

All of Sana’s reluctance went out the window the moment she looked down at Jeongyeon. She had the sweetest pout on her face, her bottom lip poking out just slightly so. Her big eyes were round with want, her cheeks still slightly red from the alcohol. She was adorable.

Sana wanted to ruin her.

“And I’ve been so good lately…” Jeongyeon added as she nuzzled her face against Sana’s thigh. “Please, mommy?”

God. She just couldn’t resist her sweet girl.

“Fine, fine- just…” Sana sighed. “You have to be quiet, okay? And we need to do this fast.”

Jeongyeon’s expression lit up.

“Thank you, thank you. I’ll be so good Sana- so good for you.”

Cute. And incredibly fuckable.

“I know you will, baby.” Sana whispered, running her fingers through Jeongyeon’s hair. “Always so good for me, hm?”

Jeongyeon nodded absentmindedly, going back to what she was doing before. She hooked her fingers under the waistband of Sana’s skirt, pulling it down. The outline of the strap was so clearly visible in the pair of safety shorts she was wearing in lieu of actual underwear, which made Jeongyeon chuckle.

“I don’t know how you even manage to hide that thing.” She muttered, pulling the shorts down, too.

“That’s for me to know, and for you to be the only one who gets to see.” Sana replied, kicking the offending fabric away.

Jeongyeon’s hazy eyes immediately focused on the toy. Sana had worn her favorite- a medium-sized, realistic looking one that matched her skin tone. It wasn’t extraordinary in any way, and they had other, much more fun toys, but it never failed to make Jeongyeon scream. Sana didn’t miss how her girlfriend quickly ran her tongue over her bottom lip, her expression completely blank with want. Her body trembled just slightly as she finally looked up at Sana, locking eyes with her.

She was being good. She was waiting for permission.

“Go on, baby.” Sana whispered. “Suck it.”

And Jeongyeon did. Within seconds, her mouth was on Sana, making a show of swirling her tongue around the head before taking the rest of it into her mouth. Even though Sana couldn’t actually feel it, the sight alone was enough to make her stomach tense up, a jolt of pleasure going straight to her core.

“Good girl.” Sana said, her hand finding the top of Jeongyeon’s hair, her fingers tangling into her freshly dyed blue locks. “Mommy’s good girl.”

She helped guide Jeongyeon up and down on the toy, resisting the urge to buck her hips. Jeongyeon’s moves were sloppy, still remotely tipsy as she worked, drool spilling out of the corner of her mouth as she stared up at Sana the entire time she sucked her off. It was gross, it was still so unsafe. At any point someone could absolutely be banging on that bathroom door, trying to get inside.

Sana loved all of it.

So yes, she did want something to happen. Maybe not this exact scenario, but something. It had been weeks since her and Jeongyeon had gotten to do anything, and honestly, Sana had planned to rail her brains out in the backseat of her car after they left. But this would work.

“Mommy…” Jeongyeon whined around the head, her mouth muffled from having the toy between her lips. “Need you in me…”

This would definitely work.

Sana finally pulled her off, a string of spit connecting Jeongyeon’s mouth to the toy. The older girl was looking at her with so much want, her expression dazed as she wiped the corner of her mouth with her sleeve. She adjusted herself so that she could press her thighs together, whimpering as she stared up at her girlfriend. Sana tried to ignore how the sight made her core ache, still wanting to get this done quickly.

“Alright, alright. You’ve been good, c’mon.”

Sana helped Jeongyeon to her feet, her hands immediately finding the buckle of her belt, making quick work of undoing it. She pressed a gentle kiss to Jeongyeon’s cheek, not wanting to smear her lipstick, before tugging her jeans and boxers down to her knees.

“Against the counter, baby. Show me that pretty ass of yours.” She whispered, her hand on Jeongyeon’s waist.

Jeongyeon just nodded absentmindedly, doing exactly what she was told. She held on to the edge of the countertop, leaning forward. Sana got behind her, her hand slipping down between her thighs, gently running her fingers through Jeongyeon’s folds. She gave her clit a few taps with her index finger before lazily circling it, making sure to focus on the sensitive spot under the hood. When Jeongyeon’s knees buckled slightly, she drug her finger down to her entrance, dipping it in just enough to tease the poor girl even more.

“Fuck, Jeongyeonie.” Sana taunted. “Already so wet for me.”

Jeongyeon just whined, looking back over her shoulder.

“N-Need you, please…”

It would be so easy to keep teasing her. It was fun to make Jeongyeon work for it- to have her broken before Sana ever even fucked her. But when she saw the look on Jeongyeon’s face, the sound of the loud music echoing up the stairwell and into the hallway, she remembered they really needed to get this done. Sana had no intention of denying her anything. Right then, she couldn’t. Even if she wanted to.

“I know, baby. I know.” Sana whispered, taking her hand away and finally lining the toy up with Jeongyeon’s entrance. “It’s okay. I’ll take such good care of you, puppy.”

Sana moved her hand to hold onto Jeongyeon’s hip, finally pressing the toy into her. A loud moan spilled out of the older girl’s mouth, and Sana’s grip tightened just a bit as she froze.

“Jeong- you need to be quiet. Or else you won’t get anything.”

Jeongyeon just bit her lower lip, nodding desperately. That was good enough for Sana, who took it as a sign to press herself in further. Jeongyeon leaned forward even more, giving Sana a better angle. The moment Sana was all the way in, Jeongyeon let out a sigh, her eyes falling shut as she pushed herself back against Sana, grinding against the toy. Normally Sana would’ve reprimanded her, reminded her that she would take what was given to her, but she’d give her a pass. For now, anyways.

“Feeling better, baby?” Sana cooed, gripping Jeongyeon’s hips tighter, but still not moving. “Such a little slut, couldn’t wait ‘til we got home?”

She’d play with her just a little, though.

Jeongyeon shook her head. Sana gave her a shallow thrust, pressing the toy impossibly deeper and earning a squeak from the older girl.

“N-No, couldn’t wait-” Jeongyeon whined. “Mommy, please-”

Sana cut her off by giving her another harsh thrust. Jeongyeon couldn’t help but grunt, whimpering as she fell forward onto her forearms. Sana finally took off, bucking her hips roughly, as fast as she possibly could. She watched Jeongyeon through the mirror, practically grinning at how her jaw would clench and release each time she pushed back in. It was the prettiest sight in the world, to her. The sounds of skin against skin filled the tiny bathroom, echoing over the music from below. Sana didn’t care at that point- she needed to absolutely ruin her girl.

“God, puppy, you’re so easy, y’know that?” Sana huffed out between thrusts. “So fucking- easy to get all worked up.”

Jeongyeon nodded, completely brainless as she groaned. Sana had no idea if it was the alcohol or the fact that she was being fucked, but either way, she was gone.

“So fun to play with.” Sana added, reaching up to grab Jeongyeon’s hair, pulling the shivering girl up. “So desperate to cum, aren’t you? That’s all you ever think about, isn’t it?”

“Y-Yes- fuck.” Jeongyeon croaked out. “All I want- wanna cum for you.”

Sana thrusted again, even deeper this time. Jeongyeon moaned unabashedly, arching back into Sana’s grip. Sana continued to hold her up by her hair, her other hand still hanging onto her hip. She dug her nails into the soft skin, earning yet another pathetic noise out of her girlfriend.

So much for getting this done quietly. Sana really didn’t give a single shit anymore, couldn’t. Even if she tried. And she was absolutely not trying.

“So fucking loud.” Sana hissed, her pace never letting up. “Bet you want us to get caught. I bet you’d love if someone walked in on us like this- you want everyone to see me ruining you, don’t you?”

Jeongyeon did her best to nod, her eyes still screwed shut.

“P-Please, I want- want everyone to know I’m your- your slutty little puppy. Hope all of them can hear me, hope they all know just how good you fuck me.”

Sana could really feel it then. She knew she was fucking dripping, felt the way her clit pulsed each time she fucked herself into Jeongyeon. And to hear that, on top of everything else? Oh, this was so much better than she ever could’ve imagined. To have Jeongyeon so willing to be ruined, to know she wants to be caught. To be absolutely railing her in some nasty frat boy bathroom, to know that those boys would never know what happened in there. Sana wondered if she’d finish without Jeongyeon ever even touching her. They’d never done anything like this before, so she had no idea how Jeongyeon felt about it. But fuck, was it good. They should go to parties more often.

She thrusted again, knowing she hit the spot that Jeongyeon loved the most just based on her reaction. The older girl cried out, her body practically going limp as Sana begin to focus on that spot, hitting it over and over and over again. Another whimper spilled from Jeongyeon’s lips as Sana finally let go of her hair, using that hand to reach around to her front, slipping it between her hips and the counter. She found Jeongyeon’s clit and quickly began rubbing tight circles into it, earning another languid sound out of her. Her knees buckled, her hips pressed back, her body falling back against Sana’s front right as she-

“Sana? Jeongyeon? Are you two up here?”

Both of them froze. They stared at each other in the mirror, horrified as they heard footsteps approaching.

“C’mon guys, I’m worried. You’ve been gone for so long.”

Jihyo.

Jeongyeon was the first to move, trying to pull away.

“Sana-”

Sana didn’t let her go.

“That’s not my name, puppy.”

Jeongyeon bit her lip, hard enough that Sana was almost concerned she’d break the skin. Her face was bright red, her expression pained. Sana cocked her head to the side, smirking as she rocked her hips again. Jeongyeon leaned forward, gripping the edge of the counter, doing her best to contain a whimper.

“W-What are you doing?” She whispered, her voice laced with panic.

“Thought you wanted to get caught, baby.” Sana replied, leaning forward so her lips were right next to Jeongyeon’s ear. “Or were you lying to me?”

Right as Sana bucked her hips again, there was a knock on the door.

“Sana, Jeongyeon- is that you guys?” Jihyo asked from the other side.

This made things so much more fun.

Jeongyeon pushed herself back up, her brows threading together at the sensation of Sana getting pushed deeper inside her because of the movement. Sana quickly reached up, cupping her mouth with one hand, her other hand starting to rub her clit again, even fucking harder than before.

“Yeah- sorry, Jeongyeon got sick.” Sana replied evenly, raising her voice just loud enough so Jihyo could hear. “We’ll be out in a few minutes.”

“Oh, oh god- do you need help?” Jihyo asked, concerned. She started to fidget with the doorknob. “Here, let me in-”

“No, it’s okay!” Sana replied, pressing her fingers down harder.

Jeongyeon’s body shuddered, a small squeak escaping her lips. Sana clamped her hand down even harder.

“Are you sure? Did she throw up or something?” Jihyo asked.

“Yeah- she drank too much. It’s okay though, promise! I’ve got it handled.” Sana answered, her voice still completely calm as she continued to work at Jeongyeon. “We’ll be out in a few minutes.”

By then, Jeongyeon’s eyes had rolled to the back of her head. Her body was completely limp as she laid against Sana, letting the younger girl do whatever she pleased. Each pass of her fingers over the sensitive nub caused Jeongyeon to tremble, her hips jerking, the toy that was still nestled inside her pressing even deeper. Jihyo was still standing at the door, the floor creaking each time she shifted her weight, seemingly unaware about what the two of them were actually doing. The whole scene was fucking absurd.

But clearly, Jeongyeon was enjoying this. And Sana was, too.

“I mean- I’ll just wait here until you’re done.” Jihyo said. “I can help if you need!”

Sana needed to push it even further.

“Jeongyeonie.” She whispered, just loud enough for only the two of them to hear.

Jeongyeon finally came to, blinking a few times before looking at her in the mirror again. She didn’t reply, couldn’t.

“You gonna cum just like this?” Sana murmured, smirking. “With my cock so deep in you while your best friend is right outside that door?”

Jeongyeon exhaled deeply, a moment passing before she nodded rapidly. Sana bucked her hips again, the hand that was still working at her clit pressing down even harder. The tiny bathroom was practically shaking from the music downstairs, just loud enough to muffle everything.

It was the perfect opportunity to test Jeongyeon’s limits.

“Bet you want her to see you like this, huh?” Sana pressed further. “Want her to watch as your mommy absolutely ruins you? Want her to know just how much of a disgusting little slut you really are?”

The faintest whine escaped Jeongyeon’s lips, her fists clenching at her sides, tears welling in her eyes as they fell closed again. Sana had her right where she wanted her.

“I could reach over and open that door right now, if I really wanted to. Let Jihyo watch you right as you broke. You’d love that, wouldn’t you?”

Jeongyeon just kept nodding, grinding her hips back against Sana’s front. After a particularly harsh movement, she shuddered.

“C-Close.” She managed to whisper through gritted teeth, her voice still muffled by Sana’s hand. “Mommy, please let me cum. Please.”

So fucking filthy.

“Go ahead, baby.” Sana said, her voice coming out honey-sweet next to Jeongyeon’s ear. “Cum for me. And for her, too. Put on a show for us, puppy.”

Jeongyeon just kept nodding as she rocked her hips back in perfect timing with Sana’s fingers swiping under the hood of her clit. The sensation of it made Jeongyeon finally break, her jaw falling open in a silent scream as she trembled violently. Sana quickly moved her hand from her mouth down, wrapping it around her waist to keep her upright. Her other hand stayed pressed against the now very swollen bundle of nerves, rubbing gentle circles into it to help guide Jeongyeon through. Sana pressed a few kisses to the side of her face, not really minding the lipstick smears it left behind.

When Jeongyeon finally came back down to earth, her breath evening out and her body shuddering from the overstimulation, Sana pulled away. She finally stepped back, ungluing herself from the older girl as she slowly pulled the strap out of her. Jeongyeon did her best to hold back a whimper at the feeling, leaning forward to hold the countertop.

Talk about a show.

“So good.” Sana whispered, helping Jeongyeon get her clothes back on. “Did so good, Jeongie.”

Jeongyeon finally turned around, facing the younger girl. Her face and neck were red, her forehead covered in sweat, lipstick marks all over her cheek. She leaned back against the counter, a blissed out smile on her lips as she held her arms out for Sana. The whole scene was beyond cheesy, even for Sana’s hopelessly romantic self. But the moment Jeongyeon finally opened her now watery eyes, tilting her head to the side just like a little puppy expecting a treat, Sana couldn’t resist. She’d really never be able to resist her sweet girl.

She let Jeongyeon pull her in by her waist, trying her best to not let the stupid strap get in the way. Eventually she just gave up, choosing to settle between Jeongyeon’s legs, the toy awkwardly pressing against the older girl’s stomach. Both of them giggled softly as they kissed, Sana smiling brightly against Jeongyeon’s lips.

But, of course, the moment she opened her mouth to say something, that’s when Jihyo knocked on the door again. Go figure.

“Yah! Sana?” Jihyo asked. “You promise she’s alright?”

“She’s good, Ji! She’s so good!” Her voice dropped, low enough for only the two of them to hear, her thumbs coming up to wipe a few lingering tears away from the corners of Jeongyeon’s eyes. “So, so good.”

“Alright.” Jihyo said, clearly annoyed. “I’m gonna go wait downstairs. Nayeon wants to leave when you two get back, but take your time.”

“We’ll be down in a few minutes!” Sana said, cupping Jeongyeon’s face in her hands as she ran her thumbs across the apples of her cheeks. “Just need some time alone, okay?”

“Whatever you say, girl.” Jihyo said, her voice a bit distant, as if she was facing away from the door. “I’d have left her to die, personally.”

Jeongyeon couldn’t help but snort. Sana rolled her eyes.

“And that’s why you’re the best friend and I’m the girlfriend, Park Jihyo!”

“Yah! As if I’d ever want to date that!” Jihyo argued back. There was a small sigh from the other side of the door. “You’re a saint, really, Sana. You’re really good to her.”

Sana looked up at Jeongyeon with a soft smile. The older girl just nodded before leaning in to peck her lips again. A few moments passed before, finally, Jihyo walked away. Sana and Jeongyeon both let out the breath they’d been holding for what felt like hours, sighing with relief as they held each other.

“How you feeling?” Sana whispered, laying her head against Jeongyeon’s shoulder.

“Incredibly sober.” She answered dryly. “But good. That was… Fun. Very fun.”

“You seemed to really enjoy it, baby.” Sana teased, earning a small noise of protest from her girlfriend. “We’ll have to have a talk about all of that later. Didn’t know you had all that in you.”

“God- I know, I know. Really, I didn’t know I did.” Jeongyeon huffed out, wrapping her arms around Sana’s waist even tighter than before. “And frankly, I didn’t know you did, either.”

Jeongyeon shifted just a bit, grimacing.

“I’m gonna be sore for days.”

“Aw, but you like that.”

“I do. Only for you, though.”

Sana looked up at her, squinting.

“Better not be for anyone else.” She said, her cheeks puffed out with a pout. “You’re mine, Jeongyeonie.”

Jeongyeon just smiled, rolling her eyes.

“I’m yours. No one else’s.”

They kissed a few more times before Sana finally pulled away, reminding Jeongyeon that they had to leave. And, reminding her that they were very much not finished. Jeongyeon awkwardly stared at the floor, her cheeks turning red when Sana casually guided one of her hands down between her thighs, allowing her to feel just how wet she was. Jeongyeon repeatedly reassured her she’d handle it the moment they got home as she took the toy out of the harness and washed it in the sink. Sana stayed pressed against her back the entire time, watching her work.

It was cute how embarrassed Jeongyeon got after everything was said and done. She whined when Sana looked over her shoulder, told her to go away, tried to make it so Sana couldn’t see what she was doing. It was adorable. Her big, strong butch that was secretly the neediest person on the whole planet. No one got to see that side of her, only Sana. And Sana loved her more than anything or anyone else.

The two of them slightly panicked when they couldn’t find anything to dry the toy off with. Sana started opening cabinets, thankfully stumbling across a roll of paper towels underneath the sink. They awkwardly dried the toy off, putting it back in the harness, and Sana turned around so Jeongyeon couldn’t see her tucking the toy back into her shorts. The older girl whined, wanting to know how Sana did it, but Sana just shooed her away as she finally pulled her skirt back up. She had her secrets, always had to keep Jeongyeon guessing, after all.

“You have to act like you were in here puking when we go back downstairs.” Sana said as she took a wet paper towel to Jeongyeon’s cheek, wiping the lipstick stains off. She ran her hand through Jeongyeon’s hair, ruffling it just a bit. “Good thing you already look a little disheveled.”

“Hey-” Jeongyeon pouted. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means-” Sana said as she threw the paper towel away. “You look fucked out, baby.”

Jeongyeon mashed her lips together, her cheeks turning red as she looked down at the floor. There was no way in hell she was gonna let this incident go, but she’d teased enough already. They had other things to be doing, anyways.

“It’s cute.” Sana said, cupping Jeongyeon’s cheek. “You’re cute.”

Jeongyeon rolled her eyes.

“Whatever.”

She smiled softly.

“I love you. Thanks for this.”

“I love you, too.” Sana replied, patting down her skirt before giving herself one last look over in the mirror.

Before she could say anything, Jeongyeon had already pulled her lipstick out of the pocket of her jeans. She silently handed it over to Sana, who quickly reapplied it, making sure she looked remotely decent. The moment she put the cap back on, Jeongyeon was already taking it back from her, sliding it back into her pocket (with the rest of Sana’s “necessities”) for safekeeping.

Jeongyeon was just as good to her, really. So, so good.

“You know I’ll always take care of you, baby.” She said, finally turning around and nudging Jeongyeon’s shoulder. “Now c’mon. You owe me big time for this little stunt.”

Jeongyeon couldn’t argue with that. In fact, she had other ideas of what she could be doing instead- ones that would be way better done in their own bed back at their place. Sana gave her a quick kiss before finally pulling her out of the bathroom, the sounds of the party becoming much more clear and bright as they stepped into the hallway. There were cheers of students clearly playing some game, the sound of music and laughter spilling up the stairs. Sana gave Jeongyeon one last look, smiling coyly. Jeongyeon shook her head incredulously before going to lean on Sana’s shoulder, making sure they’d be able to fake their way out of anyone questioning if she was really sick or not.

So maybe frat parties weren’t that bad. If it meant they’d get to do that again, they’d definitely be going. For the free booze, they’d say. But hopefully no one would ever find out why they were really there.

[lincolndjarin]

Best Kept Secret

chapter twenty one : te mirci't

ao3 link ✿ series masterlist ✩ main masterlist ✧

pairing : bodyguard!Din Djarin x afab!princess!reader

rating : 18+ mdni

word count : 9.0k

summary : reader does a lot of thinking, and a lot of expressing of said thoughts

warnings, etc. : language, angst, canon typical violence, smut smut smut smut, p in v smut, food play sort of kind of, din djarin nearly creams his pants over the concept of domesticity, sort of a dom/sub thing, switch!reader & switch!mando, din has a breeding kink and it's addressed, reader has like zero chill this chapter, dirty talk, men whimpering (hooray!), light bondage, use of handcuffs, unprotected sex

a/n : ik y'all are hype about breeding kink din but i'm gonna real quick say that i will not throw in like a surprise pregnancy in this fic, cause it hasn't been tagged with that thus far and sometimes it irks me when i'm knee deep in a fic and suddenly the reader is pregnant without warning and it wasn’t tagged,, so yeah. it would be different if i advertised this as a pregnancy fic from the get go but i didn't so i'm not gonna spring that on people. (reader could still potentially end up pregnant at the END of the fic (possibly maybe who knows) but there will not be any surprise pregnancy, sorry!) that's it lmao, just wanted to throw that out there.

“It means I love you.” 

You aren’t entirely sure how long you stare at him, looking rather silly with your jaw practically on the floor. 

How many times has he said it without you even knowing? How long has he loved you? Maker, your mind is racing as you try to recall when the first time he said it would have been.

You’ve already said it to him. 

Albeit you didn’t realize what you were saying but you’d said those words to him. And hearing you say them had worked him up so much that he’d fucked you like it was his last night alive. 

He doesn’t seem to have much to say now that he’s dropped that bomb on you. You just stare at each other in this blistering silence for an eternity. Until the smell of burning has you shooting out of bed, scrambling towards the oven as you grab the lone oven mit off the counter, removing the smoking baking trays quickly, propping open the single window above the sink and tossing the ruined cakes under the faucet.

“Kriff.” You lean up against the counter, staring at where he’s currently getting up from the bed to join you. Are you a terrible person if you just ignore it? Because currently the last thing you want to do is think about it. “I’m gonna start a new batch, I lost track of time with this one.” You whisper towards him, never actually meeting that thin black line of his helmet. 

“You don’t have to say it back.” He whispers back to you, taking a seat at the table. 

You know you don’t have to. 

Honestly the pressure of having to say it is the least of your worries. The most troubling part of this situation is the question that now plagues you which is, do you love him? 

You rinse out the last batch of batter from the bowl before starting a new one.

You’ve always been so hesitant with him. Even from the start. You wouldn’t let yourself think about him, then you wouldn’t let yourself feel for him, care for him, want him. At one point you wouldn’t even let yourself like him. 

So to think about if you love him? 

The only thing you’ve ever let yourself do is hate him. And you never even really did that. 

“I didn’t mean to upset you.” He leans forward in his chair, his elbows resting on his knees. 

Shit. You’ve been quiet for too long.

“I’m fine, sorry, just… upset about the cakes.” You both know it’s a lie. But neither of you says a thing. He just nods. You work in silence, willing your mind to think of anything else as you scrape the burnt cake tin off into the sink before refilling it with the new batch of batter. As you slide the tin into the oven you turn, unable to face him you turn your gaze elsewhere, to the single shelf in his home. 

A few days ago when you were here it was covered in assorted pieces of metal and scrap. Now it’s mostly bare. In a desperate attempt to change the subject you walk over, picking up one of the few remaining scraps. 

“What happened to all your stuff? You hold a small metal ball between your fingers as he walks up behind you, resting his head on your shoulder as he leans down. You feel the chill of beskar against your skin. 

“I used it all.” He’s still being far too vague about all this and you frown, holding the ball up in front of his face. 

“You forgot this piece.” He takes it from you as you say it, you don’t remember him taking his gloves off but they are, his bare hands holding it like it’s a precious gemstone. 

“This isn’t a part of my secret project,” He murmurs, rolling the ball between his fingers. “this belonged to the kid.” 

You have to remind yourself not to pry, that you promised yourself you’d let him talk about it on his own. His free hand snakes around your waist as he stares longingly at the metal piece, you say nothing, giving him the option to go on if he wants. After a brief moment of pause, he continues. 

“I tried to buy him a proper toy. Just once. He used to play with this, I thought maybe he was just bored because we spent so much time on the Crest. On one of my jobs I stopped and got him this little stuffed frog toy.”

You think of the frog he picked up from the lake all those moons ago. A pang of sorrow in your chest.

Every time he talks about the kid it seems like he’s talking more to himself than to you, this time is no different. He adjusts himself, standing up straighter so his chin rests atop your head now. He sways you gently to a song that only he hears.

“He tried to eat the damn thing, I tried to explain that it wasn’t for eating but he didn’t seem to care. Once he realized I wasn’t gonna let him eat it he lost interest, threw it into the fresher and went off to find this again.” He sets the ball back onto the shelf and just holds you for a moment. Just when you’re about to reach down to touch the hand he’s resting on your stomach he speaks again, in a whisper, like he isn’t sure he wants you to hear what he’s saying. “I used to worry that he was bored. Spending so much time on the ship with just me, without any of the things a child usually grows up with.” His grip on your waist tightens. “I thought for the longest time that he’d be happier somewhere else. Now I wonder if maybe he was content with what we had.” 

The more you let him talk out his feelings the more you realize that deep down Din is one thing above all. 

Someone who doesn’t think he is deserving of love. 

You turn around in his grip so you’re facing him and don’t hesitate to wrap your arms around his waist, holding him tight. You might not be ready to tell him you love him but that doesn’t mean you can’t show him that he is cared for. He doesn’t move for a moment but eventually holds you back. 

He makes no effort to pull away so you don’t either. Staying like that until you have to get the cakes out of the oven before you burn another batch. He follows you in silence as you set the new batch on the table, he reaches for one and you smack his hand away. 

“You’re gonna burn your hand, stop that. And I still need to frost them.” 

You turn back to the book for the recipe, happy that the two of you seem to be in mutual agreement to not talk about the current situation. As you start pouring the sugar to make the icing you hear a hiss of air, on instinct you turn to face the noise, not realizing until it’s too late that you shouldn’t. 

You should feel regret.

But Maker, how could you. 

Your eyes fixed on the way he parts his plush lips to take the chunk of pastry he tore off into his mouth, his finger lingering on his bottom lip and that tongue. Darting out to lick his fingers clean. The way the corners of his mouth turn up ever so slightly. You know you shouldn’t look, he’s got the helmet pulled up just enough that you can see the tip of his nose which means he doesn’t even know you’re looking, there’s metal between his eyes and you. You can’t, this is so bad, shit. You just keep finding reasons to not look away, especially now that he’s smiling. You always thought his smile would be condescending, maybe a triumphant smirk, but it’s so… dorky. He’s got such a dopey grin.

Stars, he’s got a dimple. 

Are you still breathing?   

And you can finally see the facial hair you’ve only ever felt brush up against you. Surprisingly well kept, with a few small bare patches. You want nothing more than to lean forward and kiss each one of them but you’re quickly reminded of how bad this entire situation is as you hastily turn back around. Stirring the bowl in front of you, acting as if nothing happened. Only a few seconds after you’re facing the counter again do you hear the airlock reseal. 

You hear a sharp inhale and a part of you worries he knows you accidentally looked but he hisses again before cursing.

“Fuck, that’s hot.” You can hear him breathing heavily through his mouth into the modulator.

Thank the gods.

“I warned you.” You chastise him, turning around and pouring a generous amount of the cinnamon sugar icing onto each of the cakes while they’re still hot so it absorbs into them. “These need to sit overnight in the conservator.” 

“Okay, should I put them in now or when I get back tonight?” 

You know what he’s really asking. 

He wants to know if he’ll be staying with you or coming home alone.

The answer is obvious to you as you nudge the conservator open with your foot, sliding the tins onto one of the shelves. 

“I’ll do this now since you won’t be around to. Should we go?” You slip your shoes back on, watching as a bit of tension leaves his shoulders. 

“Sure.”

★

It’s a quiet walk back but it isn’t really uncomfortable. You just want to get him back to your room, where he’ll hopefully help you forget about this whole mess. 

You waste no time when you get to your chambers. You drag him to the closet, struggling to remove his armor, carefully setting each piece on the floor while he simultaneously lifts your shirt up over your head. Once you have every piece of beskar removed, you find yourself tumbling to the floor as he practically tackles you into the blankets. Both of you fumble for the lamp until finally you manage to flip the switch and it’s like he can’t get the helmet off fast enough because in what feels like a single second, you’re shrouded in darkness, you hear the the sound of air, a thud onto the ground, and his lips are on yours. 

You’re waiting for something more to happen, he’d been so urgent just a moment ago but now that you’re here he’s just kissing you.  

Of course you aren’t complaining. Every kiss with him feels like a blessing from the Maker themself. You’re just a little surprised. 

You had sort of hoped he had plans to ravage you solely for the purpose of distracting you from the question, still searing your every thought, demanding your attention. But instead he kisses you one last time before laying atop your chest, arms wrapped around you. You think about teasing him but there’s something cathartic about this. His willingness to just be with you without searching for more. So you let him.

And when he inevitably falls asleep, his monstrous snores filling the small space, you’re left alone with your thoughts. 

Well, thought. 

Do you love him? 

Do you want to love him? 

Loving him means too much. 

You tangle your fingers in his curls, in an attempt to soothe yourself. 

Loving him is complicated. It means you’ll have to finally answer the rest of the questions you don’t want to so much as think about.

Kids? Marriage? Kodo? Any sort of future.

Loving him puts him at risk. 

He’s always been at risk. His choice to love you meant putting his life on the line. Everyday he wanted to be yours was a day that he could be dragged off by one of your husbands unlimited guard members and killed. 

Loving him means understanding that you’re on a clock. A clock to get off of Naboo as quickly as possible, to somewhere far away to hunker down. To hide from the inevitable onslaught of search parties that would come after a missing royal. 

They’d send bounty hunters.

Kodo doesn’t even like you, but if you ran off with the man he hired to protect you? He would stop at nothing to get you back. The thought of what he would do to Din when he inevitably found the two of you makes your blood run cold. 

But you need to push those thoughts away. Yes, they are important but they shouldn’t impact your feelings. Because at the end of the day you either love him or you don’t. 

And you can’t even seem to figure that out. 

You’ve never been in love before, you don’t really have a frame of reference. 

You’ve certainly never felt for anyone the way you feel for him. 

Is that love? 

If you weren’t already married would you have said it back?

You aren’t even really a wife at this point. 

You’re a prisoner. 

You aren’t sure when he woke up but he brings you back to reality with a kiss to your chest. 

“You should be asleep, princess.” His voice is gravely, still thick with exhaustion. You run your hands along his vast shoulders in an attempt to soothe him back to sleep. 

“So should you.” You whisper into the darkness, he hums softly in response. 

It goes quiet again. His arms tighten around you and you know he remains awake, every so often he’ll place a chaste kiss to your breast. 

Would it be cruel to bring it up again?

At this point he doesn’t seem bothered in the slightest that you didn’t reciprocate the sentiment and you can’t keep fighting these battles alone. 

If you love each other, talking about these things is something you would do. 

It might be nice. To not be alone with these thoughts for once. 

“Din?” 

He hums again in response. You feel the scratch of his stubble against your chest as his head turns in your direction. 

You should let him sleep. Shut up and not bother him with this. 

“What does love mean to you?”

It’s such a corny question but you really are curious.

“What did you say?” For a moment you’re worried you’ve upset him but his tone makes you think he genuinely didn’t hear you. 

“What’s it like, to love someone?” 

He chuckles softly and a wave of relief washes over you. 

“That’s an awfully complicated question, cyare.”

“Okay, then, how did you know?” You purposefully avoid saying the words, “that you loved me.” 

“It sort of snuck up on me. It started my first week with you, when being with you started feeling less like a job and more like an honor.” 

Does he have to be so good with words? Even in this state, barely awake, he manages to be a goddamn poet. 

“Eventually it got to a point where I couldn’t ignore it anymore.” He mumbles his words into your skin. 

“When was that?”

“When you gave me a birthday.” 

Right before he had ended things. 

You don’t have to ask to know now that that's why he did it. 

“And that was when you were sure?”

“Yes. That was when I knew I loved you.” 

If he’s upset about you not saying it back he doesn’t make it known, he says it so casually.

“What does it feel like?” You run your fingers along the scar on the back of his head. 

“It feels like being afraid. There is a certain vein of fear that I had never known prior to meeting the kid, when I los-“ He hesitates. “When he left, I didn’t think I’d ever feel that fear again.” He sighs. “When I met you I learned how to be afraid all over again.” 

You sort of understand that feeling.

You felt it when you thought Kodo knew. And you felt it when you imagined Kodo’s reaction to your hypothetical children with Din. 

You felt it just moments ago. When you asked yourself if you loved him. 

“It’s like all the air leaves the room, replaced with terror. That terror eats away at everything until there’s nothing left.”

All you can think of is the night you found him in the hallway, and you’re certain you’ve never felt that level of fear.

“It’s not all fear though. I assume it’s different for everyone but the fear is only a part of it. For me it mostly feels like devotion and temptation. I know what it is to be devoted, for decades I followed my creed without question, and when I finally did abandon it, it was a matter of life and death, fueled by that fear.”

He sounds half asleep as he says it, like he’s telling himself a bedtime story, and you don’t dare interrupt. 

“That’s how I feel about you, except in your case, nothing could make me question my devotion to you, not even a matter of life and death. And as far as temptation goes…” He laughs quietly to himself. “I was unfamiliar with that feeling before you.”

“Temptation?” You whisper to him.

“When will you understand what you are to me, sarad’ika?” He sits up a little, you can’t see him but you feel his nose bump against your jaw as he rests his face in the crook of your neck.

“I know how you feel about me, you tell me quite often.” You’re only half-joking.

“Not how I feel about you, what you are to me. You are so much more than the one I never meant to love, I swear you were created just to tempt me.” You let your hand rest on the nape of his neck as he absentmindedly brushes his lips up against your throat. “If you asked me to remove my helmet, I would.” He murmurs against your throat. 

That’s a rather serious claim.

“You could have asked me from the moment I met you. It took time for me to realize I loved you but I have always, been sworn to you.” His fingers trail up and down your torso. “From the moment I first saw you, when you tried to remove my helmet, I promised myself that if you ever tried again, that I wouldn’t stop you.

Maker. 

How the fuck do you respond to that?

“We can talk more in the morning. Get some sleep.” He kisses your temple and lays back down against your chest.

He can be annoyingly eloquent when he wants too. You can’t help but wish you were as capable of putting your feelings into words the way he does. Seriously, how are you supposed to top, “When I met you I learned how to be afraid all over again.” 

Maybe tomorrow you could try and show him how much he means to you. Since you can’t seem to find the right thing to say, and even if you could he’s already asleep again, snoring at an ungodly volume like he didn’t just profess his profound love to you.

But talking to him helped, from how he describes it, you might just love him too.

★

This morning is much more coordinated than your last. 

Din wakes you up before the girls arrive. You have plenty of time to pick out one of the simpler pink gowns in your collection, along with a matching pair of slippers. You leave him there with plenty of time to spare. 

The girls don’t question it this time either. Neither of them tries to go into the closet and they waste no time dressing you. Lysa finds you a nice pink nightie from the dresser but you honestly aren’t all that thrilled about it this time around.

It’s getting harder and harder to care about this. 

Being dressed up like a doll every day.

Din certainly doesn’t care about what you look like so why even bother at this point? You’re antsy to get back to him and you’re about to hastily thank and dismiss the girls as they finish but Elaine speaks first. 

“Princess, would you join me for tea this morning?” 

You have no logical reason to refuse and you do enjoy time spent with Elaine.

You just want to be with Din.

But you can’t tell her that. 

“Certainly, shall I meet you in the gardens again?” 

“I will see you there, my lady.” Both girls give you small bows before leaving. Only a few seconds after they’re gone the closet door opens and there stands your Mandalorian. He makes his way to you, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close.

“Shall I escort you to the gardens, my lady?” He leans down a bit so your eyes are level with the line of his visor.

“Lead the way.”

It’s a short walk and you’re once again surprised by how quickly Elaine has set things up, a table and chairs wait for you in the gazebo.

“Do you think you could find something to do for a few minutes on your own?” You say quietly enough that you know only he can hear it as you approach. 

He doesn’t respond but as you step into the gazebo he doesn’t follow you in, once you’re seated he walks off into the garden. 

“Seems like things are better between the two of you?” She pours you a cup, making it the way you like it before handing you the saucer. 

“Much better.” You smile as you take a sip. 

“May I speak freely ma’am?” She sets her cup down and crosses her arms, staring at you. Her tone has gotten so serious so suddenly you’re a bit stunned. 

“Of course.” 

“Lysa and I stopped coming to help you undress in the evenings many moons ago, we stopped waiting for you to summon us.” 

What a strange thing to say. 

“Okay?” Is all you can manage, still unsure as to what she could possibly mean by that statement. 

“Well, my lady, we just assumed you didn’t need the help anymore…” She stares at you expectantly but you’re still giving her a confused look. “You know…” Her eyebrows are raised but you just shake your head slowly, giving her a blank stare. “With getting undressed.”

Oh.

Oh.

Not much you can really say about that, she’s right, and you hadn’t even noticed because someone else was undressing you. Still, she can’t expect you to outright admit that. 

“I don’t need you to say a word, my lady, I just needed to talk to you, to warn you.” Something about her tone makes you shiver, even out here in the sun. 

“About?” 

“You’ve been reckless, princess.” You set your cup down. 

“Spit it out Elaine, you’re making me nervous.” You laugh anxiously but her expression remains stern.

“Kodo won’t take your absence from dinner lightly. And you’ve been too blatant about your friendship with the Mandalorian. You should act with more caution.” 

Well, you had wanted her to be blunt, you can’t be too shocked about that. 

“He is not a man who takes kindly to disrespect. He will retaliate if you aren’t careful, that’s all.” You nod as she takes a sip of her tea.

That’s all she says on the subject, quickly moving on to another topic.

Her warning was genuine and you’re thankful for it but you push it from your mind. You will right this wrong and attend dinner with Kodo this week.

★

Tea is short after that.

You aren’t in the mood for small talk anymore, you just want to spend the rest of the day with Din.

You whisper a genuine thanks to her before she departs, and you rush over to where he stands in the flowers.

“Cabin?” He asks. Thankfully he doesn’t risk holding your hand in broad daylight but he lets his knuckles brush against yours. 

“Cabin.” You follow him towards the pond and once you’re close enough he scoops you up into his arms to keep you out of the water. “Din! What if someone sees?” You whisper yell at him, eyes scanning the vacant gardens. 

“This isn’t any less damning than you walking in on your own. Besides, no one’s around, promise.” He pushes open the door before setting you down, locking up behind the two of you. “I’ve lived here for long enough to know that nobody comes out this far except us. Now, what do you want for the rest of the day?” He kicks off his boots and you set your slippers next to them.

It’s past noon at this point, you have nothing planned. 

“Do you want to just stay here? I think today I just want to stay here.” You walk over to the bed, lifting your skirt and taking a seat. 

“Works for me, I’m going to get some chores done if you don’t mind.” He removes his gloves, tossing them on the table before kneeling beside the dresser. 

“I don’t mind at all.” You scoot back a bit to rest against the wall, you’re actually quite curious to see what he’ll do, and you need time to think of how you’re going to show him how much he means to you. 

You watch as he takes out different weapons and tech that you don’t recognize. He tosses his gloves to the side and starts methodically cleaning every item. 

You’re sort of hypnotized by his attention to detail, it lets you think.

What does he like? 

Green, you, the kid, classic ships. 

None of those things can really show him how much he means to you though. 

He’s setting different things aside as he finishes any maintenance required, every so often he looks up at you before returning to his work. You feel a little useless just sitting here so you get up to take the cakes out of the conservator. 

Suddenly you have his attention. 

You don’t dare say a word, letting him just observe in peace. He drops whatever he’s working on, you don’t look but you can feel his visor trained on you. 

You take the tins out, setting them on the table before finding a dull knife. Each cake is small enough that you can fit your hands around each tin if you hold your fingers in the shape of a circle. You carve each cake out of its tin and he watches you intently the entire time, you can see him in your peripherals. 

So he likes… watching you do a shitty job at taking cakes out of tins?

It’s crass but you go through the list of things that have worked him up before. Things you’ve said to get him to give you what you want during sex. 

Two instances come to mind. 

The time you unknowingly said I love you.

And then last night, when you told him he could finish inside you.

And now? Your head tilts up just in time to watch him adjust himself in his trousers before sheepishly tuning back to his work when you catch him watching you. It takes a second but eventually things start to click.

He likes watching you look at home in his cabin. He likes the intimate feeling of a simple life. Watching you bake, saying I love you, having kids. 

Things a normal couple might do. 

He tosses something up onto the bed, you stare at it for a moment as he starts putting other things back into the dresser.

Handcuffs. 

Thick, padded, and metal. 

You know he intends on using them on you but you act fast, hurrying over to him, taking his hand. 

“What are you doing mesh’la?” He chuckles as you sit him down on the bed.

This is gonna be a shot in the dark, but if you’re confident enough, (and right) it’ll be worth it.

“Just, let me take care of you.” 

“You already take care of me.” He insists, starting to get up but you firmly plant your hands on his shoulders, pushing him back down. Your plan is rapidly forming in your mind.

“I mean it, now stay put.” He sighs loudly but nods, tilting his head to the side in confusion. No sense in being coy, might as well be clear with your intentions to see if he’s actually into it. “Don’t be a baby, I know you get off on this kind of thing.” The moment you say it he scoffs but you’re already across the room, taking one of the little cakes and putting it onto a plate. 

“Excuse me?” “His voice is already terribly defensive but you just laugh it off. 

“You’re not the only one who can make observations. You think I didn’t notice the way your tone switched when I offered to bake for you?” He starts to argue but you cut him off. “And I’m definitely not going to ignore how quickly you came when I told you you could finish inside of me.” That surprisingly shuts him up. This might actually be the only time you’ve caught him so off guard that he doesn’t have a response. 

You bring the plate over to the bed, setting it on his nightstand.

“You like domesticity.” You lean in to whisper to him. “You want me to take care of you, don’t you Mr. Tough Mandalorian?” You can’t gauge his reaction because of the helmet but you can gauge the tent in his pants perfectly fine. 

“Djarin.” He certainly doesn’t sound stern now. 

“Djarin?”

“Din Djarin.” You hadn’t even realized until just now that you didn’t know his last name. 

You straddle one of his thighs, spreading his legs with your knees.

“Well then, let me take care of you, Din Djarin.” You like the way his name feels in your mouth and based on the way his cock twitches against your leg you’d reckon he does too. 

He’s always been so open with you and you’ve always kept him at a distance. 

Right here right now, if you weren’t dealing with the worst possible circumstances (your husband), you know that you’d tell him you love him, that you ache for him, that you know fear because of him. You know you love him. And you’re pretty sure he knows it too.

You just aren’t ready to say it. 

So you’ll have to show it. (And maybe say a few things that you are ready to say.) 

You love each other, at the end of the day you can’t keep censoring yourself when you think about him, he doesn’t deserve that. 

You want to show him what he deserves. 

You reach behind him and grab the cuffs. As you do his hands wrap around you to tug at your corset strings, an act that he’s getting rather good at. 

“You gonna put those on for me, mesh’la?” He drawls. Once he’s loosened your corset enough so that you’ll be able slip out of it you lean back again.

“No.” You grin at him and he immediately shakes his head. 

“Absolutely not.” He says the moment you start smiling.

“You’re always in charge, just let me be in charge, I’m doing this for you.” You grab one of his wrists but he easily pulls it away. 

“You were in charge last time.”

True, but irrelevant.

“Do you love me?” You stick your bottom lip out a little. 

“You’re terrible.” 

“I know.” But it works, because when you grab his wrist again he doesn’t pull away. 

“You know I can get out of these right? Very easily.” He says, watching you close the first cuff around his wrist, removing the belt around his torso and the one around his waist. 

“I know that too, but you love me, so you’re going to leave them on until I take them off.

“This feels less like you’re taking care of me and more like I’m your prisoner.” He mumbles. 

“Oh hush, you’d be happy either way.” Once again he seems at a loss for words as you cuff his other wrist, he sets his hands in his lap. You smooth out the fabric of his cowl before carefully removing it, folding it and walking it over to the table and setting it down. “I’ll make you a deal.” You say, turning back to face him. “If you don’t like it then I will stop and we can do this your way. But if you don’t then I will assume I was right, and you do want me to take care of you.” You straddle his thigh again and play with one of the releases on his chest plate.

“You’re being purposefully vague. What does taking care of me entail?” The impatience on his voice trails off as you start releasing his chestplate, finding the little locks, undoing them one by one. 

“Well… I just think that you like certain things, and I think you’re too embarrassed to admit it.”

“What things?” 

You click the last release and remove his chest plate, walking over to the dresser to set it down carefully before returning.

“You like that I baked for you.” You remove his gauntlets, setting them on his nightstand.

“Who wouldn’t like that?” You swear you almost hear him stutter. 

“Oh but I think you really like it. Because you know I did it just for you.” You remove his pauldrons and kneel between his legs to remove the pieces of armor on his thighs. “You like when I hold you, you like seeing me here, in your home, in your bed.” You slide his remaining armor down his legs, setting them aside before standing again and spreading his thighs with your knees to slot yourself between them, your hands grip the edges of his helmet. 

“Can I?” You whisper. 

After a moment's hesitation he nods. 

Your fingers snap the airlocks and you gently lift. 

Before closing your eyes you allow yourself one peek. 

You’re graced with a bashful smile, and you know that it’s okay, so you squeeze your eyes shut and completely remove the helmet, setting it on the bed beside him. Almost as if on instinct he leans forward and you feel his lips on yours as you gently push him back. 

“Let me do it, Din.” You laugh softly. “You don’t have to do everything.” You lean forward this time, hands on either side of his face, running your tongue over that bottom lip you wish you could see. “I’m going to take my dress off.” You mumble into his mouth before pulling back, you turn around and quickly slide your gown down your body, you grab the plate on his bedside table before closing your eyes and turning back around. His restrained hands play with the front of your nightie. 

“What are you-” His unfiltered voice is like warm honey, deep and raw, but you silence it by putting two fingers from your freehand to where you assume his mouth is. He starts to speak again so you gingerly slide your thumb between his lips and you hear any more questions he might have flicker out. 

“Can you go more than five minutes without asking me a question?” The moment you say it his lips purse like he’s going to ask again, you place your thumb over his tongue. Once you’re certain he isn’t going to interrupt your actions again you remove your hand from his face and tear a chunk of the cake off of the plate. “Open.” You laugh softly as you bring your hand towards his mouth, he immediately starts to protest again but you take the opportunity to stuff the pastry into his mouth, you get lucky and actually manage to get it in on the first try. 

If you’re being honest, you aren’t completely sure if this is going to work. You’re still acting on a hunch. A very presumptuous hunch, that deep down he wants nothing more than a quiet, soft life. 

A home. 

Unless of course you’re wrong. In that case you’re going to be rather embarrassed. Which is starting to be a worry as you realize he isn’t moving, two of your fingers just barely past his lips, he still hasn’t moved and you fell you nerves starting to get the best of you, just as you’re about to withdrawal and apologize for the entire silly affair, his lips close around your fingers. You can’t help but gasp at the feeling, accidentally taking a step back in surprise.    

His fingers immediately grasp at what fabric they can on your undergarments, trying to pull you closer again. You’re about to say something smug, along the lines of “I told you so.” But you’re stopped dead in your tracks.

Because Maker, he whimpers. 

You let him tug you back between his legs. The cold metal of the cuffs brushes against your thighs. 

You reach down and tear off another chunk of the cake, his bound hands guide you back to his mouth, which you're shocked to find is still open as you gently feed him. This time you don't flinch back, his lips close around your fingers and his tongue licks them clean.

This is the temptation he spoke of. 

You respect his creed. You’ve sort of taken your own creed, a vow to yourself not to look. But right now it takes all of your restraint to not look. Nothing could possibly make you happier than knowing what he must look like right now, lips wrapped around your fingers, trying to pull you closer. 

But just like him, you resist those temptations, finally pulling your hand away. 

“I told you I’d take care of you.” You whisper, a slight teasing edge to your voice.

“You’re a strange woman, sarad’ika.” He whispers back.

“So you don’t like this?” You tear off a piece for yourself, popping it into your mouth, feeling the icing coat your tongue. You bask in his silence before picking up the remaining pastry, gently feeding him, tossing the plate blindly onto the bed.

The only answer you need to your question is the way his tongue drags across your palm when he’s finished, you waste no time after that to push him down into the mattress. Letting your lips find his.

His mouth tastes just like it did the first time you kissed.

Vanilla. 

His arms go over your head, trapping you in his embrace. 

“Tell me I was right.” You pull back from him, grinning.

“I wouldn’t exactly go so far as to say that you were right.” His mouth latches to your chin, peppering a trail of kisses back up to your lips but you pull further back, as far as his arms will let you, eyes still shut.

“You’re a terrible liar, you know that right? Because about thirty seconds ago you were quite literally eating out of the palm of my hand.” He continues trying to kiss you to silence you but you keep turning your head to the side, he settles on your jaw eventually. 

“That doesn’t prove anything, I’ve barely eaten anything today, maybe I was just hungry.” He mumbles against your skin. 

“Mhmm, sure. Are you sure you don’t like playing house? I think you like imagining me as Mrs. Djarin.”

Whoops. Where the hell did that come from? 

“Don’t say that.” His voice isn’t playful anymore as he sits up, keeping you in his lap. 

“Kriff, I’m sorry Din, that was too fa-” You hear a metal thud behind you on the floor and his hands are no longer cuffed, they hold your waist now. 

“If you don’t mean it, don't joke about that.” His breath is hot on your face and his grip on you tightens. 

If you don’t mean it. 

So you were right. 

Your mind screams at you to be rational. You have a husband, there are a million reasons to apologize and to move on from this. 

Stop using the husband that was forced upon you as an excuse.

You can’t keep holding back when it comes to Din. It isn’t fair to him. Not when he gives you everything. 

“If I do mean it, can I joke about it?” Your voice is the quietest it’s been all day. 

He takes your hands and brings them up to his face, so you can feel him nod. 

“I’ll keep joking about it if you tell me I’m right. I’ll joke all night long.” You laugh a little as he brings one of your hands to his mouth so he can kiss your wrist. 

“You’re right.”

You can’t help yourself.

“About?” 

“I like this.” He drags his lips down your arm before dropping it. “I like when you take care of me.” 

“Turn the lights off.” He doesn’t hesitate once you say it, the curtains are all already closed 

Once the lights are off he flips you onto your back, you hear everything on the bed clatter to the floor as he tosses it aside.

His bed is lower than yours so his hands grab you by your hips, lifting your bottom half into the air a little, making you squeak in surprise. 

“Tell me another joke.” He says under his breath as he spreads your legs so he can grind his still clothed erection against you. 

“I thought you were going to let me take care of you?” You scoff at him, hearing his zipper.

“I am,” You gasp as he drops you back down onto the mattress, climbing on top of you. “I’m letting you tell me jokes.” You can practically hear his grin as he guides the blunt head of his cock into your folds. Lazily rubbing it against your clit and leaning down to whisper to you. “You started this with all your talk, is that all it was? Talk? I thought you said you meant it?”  

You’re trying to remember how he got the upperhand so quickly but it’s hard to concentrate when he keeps nudging himself against your most sensitive spot.

Everything always happens so fast with him, just once you’d like to turn things around on him and have it work.

“I-I meant it.” Is all you really manage to get out, he brings his cock down a bit to tease your entrance, never actually pushing in. His voice has that condescending tone to it that tells you he’s willing to play this game for a while and you hadn’t really factored in just how aroused you’d get during your display a few minutes ago. You’re soaked and there’s a good chance he’s going to draw this out in retaliation. He swipes his tip back up to your clit, the both of you hiss in unison. 

You still have one ace up your sleeve as you recall your conversation from last night. 

“So you liked one of my offers?” 

“I might have been interested in one of them”

One thing you know he wants. 

“Come on, sarad’ika. Where are your jokes?” He chuckles against your skin as he kisses your shoulder. 

“I was just trying to think of a baking joke. Can you give me a second?” You gasp out as his free hand reaches underneath you to squeeze your ass before coming up to rest on your hip. 

“I know you can do better than a baking joke.” You can feel him grin against you now, his teeth lightly graze your shoulder.

“It’s a shame, you would have liked it.” He goes back to teasing your entrance, pressing himself into you just enough to make you squirm but not enough to actually be inside you. You try to shift your hips downwards but his hand keeps you pinned in place. 

“I liked your jokes about Mrs. Djarin.” 

It’s now or never.

“Well you liked my cooking as well, so I thought I’d make a joke about a bun in the oven, you’d like that wouldn’t you? Filling me u-”

His hips buck forward and his grip on you tightens to the point of a sharp pain. To seemingly both of your surprises, in an instant he’s buried nearly to the hilt in your heat. 

“Maker, Din!” You’re gonna have a brand new set of bruises tomorrow. 

“Sorry! I, fuck- sorry.” He’s grunting in your ear, not bothering with your shoulder anymore, burying his face into the pillow next to your head. 

“Dank farrik, Din…” You’re reeling from the sudden motion, your head tilted back into the mattress. You need to catch your breath but the muffled groans coming from him distract you. The sting from the sudden stretch you're experiencing is quickly fading and you bring your hands up to his head, one resting in his hair and the other at the nape of his neck. 

He wanted to make this a game so you’re going to play, and you’re going to win.

You’re still panting a little as you turn your head to the side so you can whisper into his ear. 

“Stars Din, it’s that easy to get you worked up, huh?” His breathing is starting to level out, his grip on you lightens up. “I thought I was easy to rile up but look at you, all this just at the thought of a bun in the oven.” 

He isn’t making noise anymore, he’s still against you, listening intently as you run a soothing hand down his spine and back up again. 

“I can’t imagine what you’re going to be like when you actually get me pregnant.” 

You’re surprised by your own words, like your brain is on auto-pilot and you can’t filter yourself but he fucking whines so you don’t care in the slightest. High pitched and needy, muffled by the pillow. His hips start slowly rocking into you and you bite back your moan, wanting to maintain your advantage. 

You tangle your fingers into his hair, pulling his head out of the pillow, savoring the whimper that comes from his as you do.

“Oh come on, you can’t even  handle the thought of it?” You breathe out the words and his head falls downwards as you release him, he bites your shoulder. “What does it for you?” He unclenches his jaw, starting to bury his face back into the pillow but you pull him back up again.

“Is it just the idea of finishing in me?” 

He doesn’t answer, to be fair you’re barely holding it together either at this point.

“Or do you just want everyone to know I’m yours? Want everyone to see that you knocked me up?”  

You get your answer with that because he’s trying to bury his face back into the pillow. A low wail leaves his lips as he frantically ruts into you. How quickly everything’s escalated has you hurtling towards your climax and you can tell by the desperate whine that leaves his lips as he presses them into your collar bone that he won’t be far behind. 

“I know you can do better than that, Din.” You mock his tone from earlier but he’s unfazed, pounding into you until finally you can’t tease him anymore because he’s reduced you to gasps and moans.

It doesn’t take long after that. 

One after the other.

You first, when his hand travels downwards, it takes only a few precise circles rubbed into your clit and your grip tightens in his hair, your walls flutter around him.

Just like that he’s going over the edge with you.

He pulls out, finishing on your stomach. 

You shouldn’t feel upset but there's the tiniest bit of disappointment as you feel his cum against your skin. 

He collapses onto the bed next to you, pulling you into his arms.

“I love you.” He presses a kiss into your hair. 

“I know.” 

★

You sit in the quiet dark for a long while, until finally, you have to ask.

“Do you actually want kids someday?” Your voice breaks the silence of the pitch-black room. “Little Djarin’s running around?” 

He rolls over so he’s hovering above you now.

“Are you trying to start round two?” He chuckles, resting his forehead against yours, your nose bumps against his. “I’ll need a few more minutes before I can go again, sarad, but I can keep you occupied until then.” He kisses you quickly, already starting to move his mouth south but you stop him. 

It’s so effortless right now. To be happy with him, in the darkness, pushing away thoughts of royal responsibilities. Letting yourself be with just Din, even if it’s brief. 

“I’ll take that as a yes?” You ask.

“Yes. Someday.” He kisses your sternum, laying down on your chest.

“With me?” 

“No, with Elaine.” You smack the back of his head when he says it, he laughs against your skin. “Yes, with you.” 

You let him lay on top of you as you nod to yourself. 

“Is it weird that everytime we have sex it turns into a competition?” He starts to laugh once more as you say it.

“It’s weird that you keep losing.” 

You smack him again.

★

Your peaceful break from reality is brief, as always, as you sit up. 

“We have to go. I can’t be out all night.” The last thing you want to do is return to your room right now, you want to stay here, the cabin feels more like home than any room in the castle ever has. 

He seems as unhappy with this as you are. The two of you dress in silence once he flicks the lamp back on, you turn around until you hear him reattach his helmet. 

You hold his hand on the walk back. You don’t have much to say right now, you’re certain at this point that you’ve made it clear that you love him.

That you just aren’t ready to say it. 

And he doesn’t seem to mind. 

You’re ready to just sleep. Your blanket nest seems more and more inviting the closer you get to the castle. 

The two of you sneak in through the back entrance and as always the castle is quiet at night. You keep your hand in his as you make your way up the steps. 

It isn’t until you get to the hallway where your chambers are located that you hear it. 

A persistent banging sound and someone yelling incomprehensibly. 

Din immediately drops your hand. 

Neither of you speaks as you walk but he shifts himself so he’s walking ahead of you, as you get closer you recognize the distinct, nasally voice. 

In the dim light of the hall you see Kodo, banging on your bedroom door.

“Wife, come now, you can’t ignore me, I’m your husband.” He hisses, you can smell the alcohol on him from here.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

“Kodo, are you okay?” You plaster on a faux look of concern as you approach, Din tries to put his hand up to stop you but you ignore it. 

He turns to stare at you, his clothes are askew and he isn’t even wearing his crown. 

“Wife! Where have you been?” He slurs, leaning in for a kiss that you sidestep, he doesn’t seem bothered by your rejection. 

“I went on a walk.” You answer quickly and he takes hold of your waist, you try not to look too repulsed.

“You skipped dinner yesterday, dear wife.” He teeters a bit, leaning towards you as you again try to avoid his kiss but this time he holds you firmly in place, it’s sloppy and you have to wipe a bit of spit from your face after.  

“I did, I wasn’t feeling well.” Your voice is getting smaller and smaller as you feel fear bubbling in your chest.

“Where are your guards?” There’s no respect in Din’s voice, no “your highness” or “your grace.” No one speaks to Kodo that way, not even you, but he’s too drunk to even notice. 

“I dismissed them, as is customary when one is visiting his bride’s chambers.” Kodo lurches forward, his hands sloppily grope the fabric of your skirt and you make an audible groan of discomfort. 

“We should get you back to your own chambers, come now dear husband.” You try to sound patient, you know he’s capable of violence and you don’t want to push him in this state.

“Why would we do that, wife? Come now, tonight I shall join you in bed. I missed you last night.” He hisses the words and you know he didn’t miss you in the slightest, this is a punishment.

This is what you get for disobeying. 

For skipping your dinner with him.

This is the inevitable thing that has made you unable to tell Din you love him. This looming promise of Kodo.

There’s nothing you could possibly do right now to escape the fate before you. The fear you feel right now is certainly not the fear of love that Din described to you. 

But that quickly changes.

You don’t get a chance to react as Din takes a step between you and Kodo, he doesn’t even wind up, he just drives his fist forward and you hear the sickening crunch of your husband's nose just before he slumps to the floor. 

As you stare at Din, you know your fear has changed. His shoulders heaving, his rage fills the corridor as you listen to his ragged breaths through the modulator. He turns around to face you, but you just stare at his hand, where the evidence of this potentially deadly mistake is dripping down his fingertips. You have never been more terrified for another person's life the way you are right now for Din. 

You’re mesmerized by the little speckles of your husband's blood, a stark contrast to the yellow fingertips of his gloves.

And suddenly it feels like all the air leaves the corridor as you finally look into his visor, you don’t see Din though, all you see is what they’re going to do to him for this.

I am no longer doing taglists so follow @lincolndjarinnotifs and turn on notifications to be notified when new chapters are posted !!

[wandering-tides]

TNE Fandom where are you?

Sujin shippers where are you?

I have Fics to Rec

I don't really go out of my way to rec fics (and I dunno why I have never done this before on tumblr), but BY GOD, have these two fics taken a special place in my heart.

I ADORE everything about them.

They are both Suho x Hajin ships

But the ship aside, I am so incredibly grateful for the authors to have brought them to life and allowed us to read these absolute GEMS of a fic in this little, little fandom of The Novel's Extra.

Really, y'guys have no idea how giddy and excited I get at every update.

Now, the fic in question?

1. Flowers of Agápē by DescendedGaia (Not sure if the author has a tumblr or any other social media... but lemme know if you want me to tag you :) )

Kim Hajin is a failure. There's no two ways to look at that objective truth. It's a truth that resonates through how others look at and ridicule him. It's a truth that echoes infinitely inside his head, compounding and doubling down on his inadequacies. It's a truth, despite the unconditional love of two parents that soothe but cannot dispel those haunting doubts. Kim Suho is simply perfection. The desperate vessel and ideal of Hajin's "ifs" and wishes. Because Kim Suho, the protagonist of Hajin's novel, is everything Hajin wants to be for his parents and more. But, that same story falls apart at the seams the same way Hajin has lost faith in himself. Yet, as the common narrative dictates, everything begins anew with an innocuous email requesting to remake Hajin's novel, his desperation and desire incarnate.

*** Alternatively, the extremes of Korean culture break Kim Hajin into someone who feels much more acutely, and everything shifts to the left.

This is such a MASTERPIECE. Hajin's characterisation in here is just *chefs kiss*. For me, thats one of the biggest plus points in this fic. Hajin is so much more emotionally sensitive in here and feels far more acutely than in the orignal, as should have been.

This fic has been adressing almost all the points that made me frown at or dislike in the orignal novel and manhwa (and from what I can notice, almost every one too).

This fic is kinda a rewrite of the orignal novel, (tho the author follows the manhwa flow of the story) with added Suho interactions, and such good characterization of Hajin, I fell in love at first read LMAO.

So far, there aren't any major spoilers (unless you read the author end note, where they give their own tid-bits of the chap, which sometimes contain spoilers too, or go to the comment section which may sometimes give you spoilers to the novel lol) If you are caught up with the manhwa, or atleast the season 1 of manhwa, then so far there won't be any spoilers for you!

And I think i'll stop talking about it here cuz if I keep going, I think i'll end up giving in-fic spoilers Lmao

(Oh, btw, this updates every other thursday! So far, it's been consistent in its updates ^^)

So onto the next fic!

2. Mountain To No one by @thek1ngtalks (as k1ng0fn0b0dy on ao3)

There's a number on his smartwatch that leads to nowhere. Suho's gotten in the habit of texting it throughout his day. Today, it texted back.

_ Or, in a world missing Kim Hajin, everyone is worse off. Fixing this starts with (a lot of) text messages between a protagonist and his missing piece.

And Man.... where do I begin? I have SO MUCH to say about this fic but I think i'll end up spoiling the whole fic if I start lmao. It's just so good dammit. Just gonna say that this fic takes after the end of the novel, after the conclusion. Only couple few remembers Hajin in the orignl right? Well, in this fic, nobody does. But Suho is probably (???) Going to be the first to remember... I dunno tbh, the fic is only 2 chaps in (and yes, I really adore it already)

I love what the author did with Suhos character and how he is dealing with the aftermath of... everything. Same goes for Hajin, and I love where they seems to be taking this fic. How they characterizes these two main characters and everything.

Listen, I have a LOT to say but i'll just end up giving spoilers so really go read it for yourself. This is another MASTERPIECE of a fic and I am so grateful for its presence in this little TNE fandom TT

Really, thankyou for such amazing fics authors!!

And that's all from me!! Lol I was so excited while writing this XD (could you tell? Lol)

(I edited this post twice because of all the typos I ended up making in excitement LMAO)

[thehypnone]

Sundown: Chapter 7

WC: 3,1K

Relationship: SwissAlps

Tags: AU; Cowboy!Swiss x Barmaid!Mountain,Transfeminine Mountain, Angst, Crying, Alcohol, Makeup, Backstory, Grief

He can blame his father for that, but not for his choices later on. That’s all on him, hurting Mounty is all on him.

Notes: I’m not very happy with how this chapter turned out, but the idea was good lmao hope you enjoy :3 Divider by the lovely @ghuleh-recs <3 Also happy Pride Month everyone!!!

Playlist here. / Chapter 1 here or on AO3.

Read chapter 7 under the cut or on AO3.

Swiss slept in the stables with Monty. Curled up and shaking through the cold night on a falling-apart cube of hay.

As fragile as he is, if not less.

He thinks about the irony, looks back at his life and wonders where the fuck he went wrong. He’s well aware, of course, but when he looks far back, ultimately he didn’t put himself on that road on his own. Albeit, he can blame his father for that, but not for his choices later on.

That’s all on him, hurting Mounty is all on him.

It doesn’t matter now, anyway, he already fucked up the best thing that has ever happened to him.

The man gets up, only imagining how pitifully he looks—though there’s no pity he deserves—and turns for Monty’s tack. He’s getting the hell out of there as soon as his chick is ready. Mere minutes later she is and Swiss walks her out of the stable.

“Once again it’s gonna be just the two of us, girlie,” he sighs, rubbing Monty’s nose as she nudges it into his chest. She understands.

Swiss’ jaw is clenched tight and his eyes still sting and he’s about to hop on and walk away from the best few months of his life like it was nothing when he hears footsteps on the soft ground behind him, followed by a familiar voice.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Swiss flinches, not turning to the other.

“Dew, you don’t unders–”

“I do,” Dewdrop interrupts him. “I know everything, Mounty spent the night at our place.”

Swiss looks over his shoulder despite his voice wavering and hot tears threatening to fall already. “You should be chasing me out of here with a pitchfork,” he jokes, but there’s no real humor in it.

“And yet I asked what the fuck do you think you’re doing,” the other man repeats, coming closer. He puts a hand on Monty’s neck to pet her; she leans into it and it’s as if both Dewdrop and the mare want to show the cowboy he should stay.

“What else can I do?” He shrugs, still not looking Dewdrop in the eye. “I messed up.”

“Yeah, you did. Big time,” he points out, “but the Shadow never sounded like a coward.”

Silence falls for a moment. Swiss takes a shaky breath and when he speaks again it’s barely audible, “I ain’t him, Dew. A coward is all I am.”

The other shakes his head. “You can’t leave her. She loves you.”

“And I love her, more than life itself,” Swiss claims and both of them know he’s not exaggerating. He’s never loved anything or anyone as much as he loves Mounty. She’s everything he’s not, she’s the best thing that ever happened to humanity, she erases all of it’s faults. She’s perfect and he’s…far from that. “I’m doing all of you a favor, I can’t–I don’t deserve her.”

“It’s not your decision.” Dewdrop argues. Swiss is surprised by his persistence, even though he knows the man is stubborn and more sharp-witted and wiser than he lets on. “She’ll forgive you, it’s how she is, you just have to be patient. Don’t run away, it’ll hurt her even more.”

“She’s scared of me.”

“Yeah, because you murdered more people than this town even has!” he bites back, nearly laughing, and Swiss hurts. Although he deserves it, he supposes. “I’m scared of you, too.”

Swiss’ breath hitches and he lets it back out with a dry sob, “Then why the hell are you trying to stop me?”

Dewdrop throws his arms up, nearly spooking Monty. “Because none of that matters! You said that the Shadow is not the true you and you’ve been here for long enough for me to believe that. Get rid of him once and for all and everything will be alright. Mounty will forgive you and forget about the fear.”

There’s nothing else Swiss can say. He wants to believe Dewdrop’s right, he needs him to be right if he is to stay, but he knows he’ll fuck it up all over again if he does. That’s just what he does.

Heartbreak and grief follow him wherever he goes, why would Sundown be any different?

“Come on, let’s get you a drink,” Dewdrop sighs, taking Swiss’ arm. His eyes widen, he’s not ready to see Mounty just yet, it’s too– “Relax, she ain't there now.”

He doesn’t say anything, but he lets the other walk him to the saloon, leaving tacked-up Monty behind. She looks rather pleased with the outcome, going back to her hay right away.

Dewdrop lets Swiss and himself in from the back and goes to make him a drink, leaving the cowboy in the storage. His head is throbbing and he really does need a drink, but he doubts whatever Dewdrop is pouring is going to be enough.

Before he realizes what he's doing he grabs an unopened bottle of whiskey off a shelf and shoves it under his shirt.

Just then Dewdrop comes back and hands him a glass that Swiss downs in two gulps. It burns his throat and belly but it's not enough.

Still, he thanks the other, “I'm gonna go now, I'll…I'll try to bring myself to talk to Mounty tomorrow.”

“You better.” With that Dewdrop leaves and Swiss heads back to the stable. Maybe he'll be warmer later, when the night comes, thanks to the alcohol. He takes the tack off Monty and settles himself on that same cube of hay that he slept on.

He sighs at how pathetic he is as he opens the bottle and glues his lips to it, reveling in the bitter taste and the acidic burn going down his throat.

A few hours later he notices he's moved. Or was moved.

Where? He doesn't really know but it's harder under his ass than the hay. He hums an off-key tune under his breath, rolling his head from one side to the other against a piece of wood. Is it a wall?

He zones out with an empty mind and he giggles at the foggy void taking over his brain. He has no idea how long he's been there and even where he is or what he's doing. It's dark but it might just be that his eyes are closed.

“Swiss? What the hell are you doing?” someone asks. The man tries to blink but his eyes are closed so he just squeezes them tighter for a moment before he manages to actually open them. His face feels numb as he tries to smile.

Swiss wonders how that beautiful girl knows his name.

“I’m–nevermind, but I do know your name.” Did he say that out loud? “Do you know my name?”

“Hmpf…” he huffs, trying to open his mouth and actually say what he wants to, ”you're ver’pretty bu–but I can't.”

“Can't what?” the girl asks, standing over him with her hands on her hips.

Mounty doubts Swiss can register the emotions on her face if he can't even recognize her, but she tries to mask them anyway. She's worried, she didn't expect to see Swiss tonight, much less in such a state. She hasn't made peace with all of what happened yet, but she still loves him and cares about him.

“There’s a girl, I–” Swiss hiccups, “I don't think she likes me anymore but–but I'm in love with her, y’know? So I…I can't do anything w’you.”

“That's fine.” Mounty crouches down, smiling, despite everything, at Swiss' ramble. He's drunk out of his mind and doesn’t realize it's her before him, but he is still loyal. “I just wanted to make sure you're okay over here, kind sir.”

“I ain’t a sir,” he giggles. “‘m a mess.”

“Respectfully, you have a point,” the barmaid agrees. She comes closer and reaches out to grab Swiss’ hand, trying to not shudder at the feeling of his skin on hers again, even though it's been barely twenty four hours since everything went down. “Which is why you can't stay here, come on, let's get you up.”

“No, I can't go w’you, my–my girl’s gonna be angry,” Swiss slurs in protest, shaking his head clumsily.

“Yeah?” Mounty can't help but giggle now, too. “I think your girl is gonna be more angry if you freeze to death out here.”

“Hmmm…but–but you can't touch me, ‘cause ‘m hers, o–okay?”

“Okay, I promise to not touch you anywhere weird,” Mounty grabs his other hand and tries to haul him up. It works as well as it can with Swiss in such a state, with him stumbling into her arms once he's up, “but I think I have to help you walk up the stairs, don't I?”

“Uh…p–pos–billy,” he hiccups again, but nods, grinning up at the girl. His breath stinks, but Mounty doesn't really mind. She is a barmaid after all, it's not the first drunk man she's dealing with. It is her man, though, this time.

She all but hangs him over her shoulder and walks into the saloon. The stairs are a challenge, but neither of them falls down, so Mounty considers it a success when she drops Swiss onto a bed in one of the guest rooms. She’s not ready to put him back in hers, not before they have a proper talk about everything. She knows she is going to forgive him, especially after what Dewdrop told her earlier, but they have to talk first.

Still, there’s a little voice in the back of Mounty’s head telling her to milk more out of Swiss. “Tell me about your girl, won't ya?”

“Oh, oh, she's…she's s’pretty, y’know? No offense t’you, but she’s the prettiest girl ever,” the man rambles, gesturing wildly. His eyes are wide and glassy—not only because of alcohol—and his grin is as wide and bright as ever. “She's an angel! She’s kind and–and lovely…and a–also she has nice…very nice boobies.”

“Huh.” Mounty puts a hand over her mouth so as not to snort. Of course he had to mention her tits. “She sounds amazing.”

“She is…” Swiss sighs dreamily, freezing with a goofy smile as he—most likely—gets lost in memories from not so long ago.

“Anyway, it’s way past bedtime for you, kind sir,” she snaps him out of it when she notices his eyes start to close on their own. “I think your girl would agree.”

“Mhmmm,” he hums in acknowledgement. “She’s always tellin’ me to go to bed when I don't wanna.”

“Sounds like she’s smart, too.” Mounty pushes him on the shoulder and he falls back like a ragdoll, flat on the bed.

“Mmm, the smartest,” Swiss mumbles, wiggling on the bed in something that looks like a rather poor attempt at getting comfortable. The barmaid shakes her head and throws a blanket over him.

And resists the urge to bend down and kiss him.

Swiss blinks and suddenly it’s morning.

His head is pounding and someone knocks on the door again and it doesn’t help it—even though it’s rather quiet. He realizes that the knocking is what woke him up. He tries to roll over and maybe get up to get the door but a wave of dizziness washes over him so he resolves to calling out, “Come in.”

His heart skips a beat when he sees Mounty in the door. Only now he realizes that he’s in one of the saloon rooms, but how he ended up there is a mystery. Though he supposes it might have something to with that bottle of whiskey he snatched yesterday.

Fuck.

“Good morning,” Mounty says, leaning against the doorframe. Swiss’ stomach turns and it’s not his hangover’ fault. “How are you feeling?”

“I’ve had way too much,” he mumbles. “Who brought me in here?”

“I did.” The barmaid shrugs and the corner of her mouth twitches upwards at Swiss’ grimace. “Found you half-conscious on my doorstep last night. Don’t remember much, do you?”

“Not really,” the cowboy admits. He sits up to lean against the wall and watches as Mounty walks inside and shuts the door behind her. She has a little basket hanging off of her arm and Swiss notices there’s faint steam coming from it.

“I can imagine. Here,” she hands him the basket, “from Rain.”

The man groans as the smell finally reaches him; freshly fried sausage with a slice of buttered bread and a glass of water.

“Thank you. Not only for this, for…everything.” Swiss takes a sip of water first, and even though he is not a fan of such a simple drink, his dehydration makes it taste heavenly. “Can we talk?”

Mounty doesn’t reply, but she nods before sitting on the edge of an empty bed across the bed. The man takes a bite out of his breakfast and it is delicious—as anything made by Rain—but there’s a certain bitterness to it at the distance that the other has put between them. He couldn’t expect anything less, but it aches nonetheless.

“Let’s start with apologies. I shouldn’t have hid who I was. We wouldn’t have gotten where we did if I had been honest, but I should’ve been, you didn’t deserve getting lied to. All I wanted was to get out of that life once and for all. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, sweetheart. You have no idea how much I regret everything.”

Mounty remains silent, but her eyes are on Swiss. Her presence alone is more than he could’ve wished for after everything. He swallows a few more bites of the food she brought and washes it down with more water before he dares to continue.

“Can I…will you let me explain everything?” he asks once the breakfast is gone. Swiss pulls his knees up and curls up as much as he can under a scratchy blanket; he tries not to think about how Mounty must’ve pulled it over him yesterday. “Can I tell you my story? I don’t want it to be an excuse, nothing can excuse what I did, but I just…I need you to know. Will you let me tell you?”

The barmaid still doesn’t speak, but her gaze is soft and somewhat curious, as if she’s trying to be angry with him—mad, even—but can’t bring herself to hate him and is looking for a reason to forgive him, whether it’s there or not.

Swiss doesn’t deserve her in the slightest.

The problem, though, is that his lie—or rather avoiding the truth—is, after all, the least serious of his crimes. He's a murderer and even if Mounty can forgive his dishonesty, he can't imagine she'd be willing to look past all of his sins.

“I have…had a sister. Our dad was famous for getting into all kinds of trouble and one day he got himself killed and my sister—Sunny—kidnapped,” he pauses to take a deep, shuddering breath. He hasn’t uttered her name since the day he buried her. He wipes a tear from the corner of his eye, threatening to fall, before he continues. “I had nothing, there was nothing I could’ve done to get her back, but I went there and begged, offered my life in exchange for hers. They…those men decided that they’ll let her go when I pay off our father’s debt by doing all their dirty work for a while. That’s how the Shadow came to be.”

“How did…what happened to her?” Swiss flinches at Mounty’s voice. She sounds like Sunshine did, a bit; something he has noticed that first night down by the bar and tried so hard to ignore all these months.

“I did all they wanted, all their bidding, everything. I became a monster, a soulless–” he says, barely above a whisper. “I should’ve known it seemed too easy, that they weren’t men of their word.” 

He drops his head against his knees, still not fully able to say…it out loud. Saying something, letting it sound, makes things real and Swiss is far away from accepting the reality in which she’s not with him.

It’s barely audible when he does say it, “They killed her the moment they didn’t need me anymore.”

“Swiss, baby, I’m–” Mounty gasps. “I’m so, so sorry. Nobody should have to go through anything like that.”

“I killed all of them that night,” the man chuckles pitifully, sniffling wetly as he rubs his eyes against the blanket. “That’s why nobody heard of me after that, because there was no Shadow anymore, he died with his masters. I should’ve done that earlier, I should’ve fought and saved her, I–I failed her, Momo.”

The barmaid is speechless. She…Swiss shouldn’t have lied to her, but she understands—though not really, she’s never gone through something as awful as the man before her, but she can understand how all he wanted was…out. 

“I don’t–I don’t want you to forgive me and take me back with open arms,” the cowboy cries quietly, “it's just that…what I need is for you to–to understand. Please, sweetheart, just tell me you understand why I did what I did.”

“I do, darling,” Mounty states, loud and clear, and Swiss sobs with relief, choking on air. “But I will–I am taking you back with open arms. You're mine and I'm yours, Swiss.”

She gets up and walks over to the other bed—with her arms open, indeed. She’s not much bigger than the cowboy, but in that moment he’s tiny, as fragile as a man can be. Mounty wraps her arms around him and pulls him close, lets him sob into her chest.

“Seeing her body…seeing her, my baby sister, and having to bury her, I–I don’t… Believe me, sweetheart, I have paid for all I’ve done t–tenfold.”

“C’mere, lay down,” Mounty whispers as she strokes Swiss’ arm with all the gentleness in the world, not knowing any words that could fill the gaping hole in his heart. He keeps quiet, but obeys, resting his head on the barmaid’s shoulder. She brings them both down and tightens her arms around him, trying to comfort that broken, broken man as much as she can. She doesn’t feel like it’s enough and Swiss doesn’t have words to tell her that it’s more than enough and way more than he deserves.

What he can tell her, though, is words that he’s never going to be too overwhelmed, exhausted or hungover to say.

“I love you, girl.”

Swiss is afraid that he’s not going to hear it back ever again, but Mounty smiles and mutters, “I love you, too, cowboy.”

Somehow, hope fills him. Hope that they’re going to be okay.

He’s surprised to find himself believing it.

[twirlymarimo]

since you've read a lot of zs fics, could you recommend some? like specifically ones that you think are underrated 👀

hi! this ask is so exciting to me, thanks for sending! i’m fairly new to the zs fandom but been reading fics for about 8-9 months straight so yes haha you could say i’ve read a lot 😆

to preface my recos, i like zsz so i dont mind anything 💚💛

anyway, here’s my list of underrated fics (underrated for me is like under 500 kudos and please mind the tags on some of them):

1. him by lostmathmajor - one of my first parenting au fics and i think about this fic from time to time. it's incomplete sadly but i'll wait for the author to update forever! what i love about it is how you feel zoro's desperation and pining for sanji through his actions and it extends to sanji's daughter. ugh you just have to read it.

2. at last, i see the light by anxietyismymoralcompass - tangled au! this was such a good adaptation of my fave disney princess movie <3

3. never grow a wishbone by peacesigndisasterbi - set post laughtale where sanji and zoro reaches their goal. i loved the angst and yearning in this plus the fantasy plot was so good too!

4. a sip of sunlight by greenyogurtelephant - such a cute little oneshot. very summer-y, i read it recently when i was in the mood for something bright. i imagined like an italian countryside or some wine country areas in northern california.

5. stuck in your throat by fruityumbrella - val writes one of the best dialogues ugghhhh read everything they write!!!

6. let's go to bed by fantasmagorial - so soft and fluffy....very comforting. i read this when i was having trouble sleeping lmao

7. i got this feeling by harubo - i know, this author is very popular in the fandom but this one fic of theirs is not as popular i think. i really loved it cause i have a pet as well and used to run an IG page for him so i related hahah

8. tin lover by riotoftime & aevv - ongoing, im kinda shy to add this but i am hooked....the writing style and dialogue are so good and distinct because each character is developed/written by different authors!

i unfortunately don't have an ao3 account so i've lost most of the fics i've read but i've learned to keep track now! if anybody has any underrated fic recs as well, feel free to add!

[errruvande]

Fanfic writer interview

Thank you @thelettersfromnoone for the tag!! 💖

How many work do u have on AO3?

3, not your local AO3 girlie lmao

What's your total AO3 word count?

8 534

Your top 5 stories by kudos/likes

I'll go with Tumblr ones, cause from my 3 AO3 works the biggest number I got is 31 lmao

Anyone but you (Legolas x f!reader)

Night watch (Legolas x Reader)

Well-deserved rest (Haldir x f!Reader)

One messy night (Boromir x f!Reader)

Transition (Haldir x f!Reader)

Honorable mention (since it's not fics but headcanons)

Green Council receiving a hot pic from you (HotD)

TLK men's reaction on being pet named

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I always try to respond to comments! These little things are brightening up my day, so I wanna let the people know that they are my heroes hahaha

What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

I really think it's Transition. All in all it's a pretty dark story, a bit depressing I think (I had these intentions while writing at least).

Otherwise, I don't think I have angsty endings fics?

What's the fic you've written with the happiest ending?

New family members for sure!! Was thinking hard what to choose, cause I think all of my happy ending fics are on the pretty same level on a happy scale, but I remember that I have this gen, non romantic baby and I love it so much ❤️‍🩹 There's a little TLK OMC for y'all

Do you write crossovers?

I wanted to say I've never done this BUT THEN!!! My Assassin's Creed (Ezio) x LOTR little headcanon!!! My beloved child!!

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

No, not that I remember getting any hate on my fics

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I do, tho not much and on rare occasions. I used to write a lot of smut when I was younger (a teen), then I stopped being comfortable with it for a wild few years (tho reading never made me uncomfortable lmao).

Now I started writing smut again, idk what kind? Don't really understand what does that mean lol F x M traditional sex? Pretty detailed? If so, then yes lmao

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I don't know 😂 Maybe, maybe not. I think rather not.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Not to my knowledge, I don't think so.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

We tried with my friend a long long time ago. Didn't go well lmao It's hard and kinda stressing, cause you never know what the other person is gonna write (at least we had this SURPRISE system), so... You kinda have zero plot cause everything you want to write plot-wise can be ruined by the second person's plot lmao

What's your all-time favorite ship?

Athelnar?? Athelstan and Ragnar were my first ever OTP (quickly followed by Alfred and Uhtred). You could never beat that Athelnar shit out of my body lmao I've never written for them, but oh I do love them boys!

What's a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will?

Now, that's the HARSH one lmao

I think I have at least 3 OC stories that I really wanna write (2 for TLK and one for LOTR), but I'm scared that I will never actually do it. I never was good with multi chaptered stories, and these are indeed not a one shots 🥲

What are your writing strengths?

Ugh... I don't know? I think I was pretty good with dialogues and descriptions of the surroundings to build the atmosphere. But... I guess it's not for me to decide but for the readers?

What are your writing weaknesses?

I rarely finish what I've started lmao I should write everything in one go or else I'll never finish it... Or will finish it in two months even if it's a 2k words one shot

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I love them! I've only done it with my LOTR fics (with Sindarin) but I really love it. But I really love it when the language is different from the language of the settings? Like, if the story is happening in England and everyone is English, but you have two characters who can speak idk Dutch, let them have a Dutch language in their dialogue. I had a rant post about it not that long ago actually lmao You have to think about your in-universe language

What's a fandom/ship you haven't written for yet but want to?

Ahhh Bungou Stray Dogs! I love them, and I'd gladly try to write something for them. Not a character/character but reader my beloved.

And maybe Stephane Narcisse (reign) my beloved and a reader

What's your favorite fic you've written?

The blood on my hands (Eomer) and Peace (Finan) are definitely my fave ones I think. They are dark and both explore some trauma

No pressure tags: @whitedarkmoonflower @lord-aldhelm @holy3cake @gemini-mama @emilyhufflepufftlk @persephones-journey @solinarimoon @mrsalwayswrite @emmanuellececchi @bilbotargaryen @levithestripper @mrsarnasdelicious @paula-in-dreamland

[plutoccult]

ALWAYS THE ARTIST, NEVER THE MUSE

pairing: eren yeager x gender neutral reader

description: you know you shouldn’t have let yourself fall for eren, but you did anyway, and it only left you with nothing but hurt when you knew his heart belonged to another. after months of torture, you finally have the strength to let go, granting you the happiness you so desperately needed back in your life.

word count: 1.7k

also available to read on my ao3 here

author’s note: happy december? no, angsty december. this particular one shot is a little personal for me because it’s based off a final conversation i had with someone who i essentially let have hold of my heart for far too long and finally had the strength to let go of them a few months ago. he’s like jake gyllenhaal minus the age gap. i say this because he gave me the ability to relate to the moment i knew aka not being there for my 21st birthday! insane! i did however make it less personal by giving it some how i met your mother vibes, but there’s still inklings of my personal life in it. writing helps me heal and express my feelings in a way that i’m comfortable with, so i feel good writing this as part of my healing journey? corny to use fanfiction for healing, but to each their own. sorry if this is too angsty, but imagine how my life has been LMAO. anyway, big shoutout to my friend @toorubobatea for beta reading this. i really wanted her to read it before i posted it, so thank you queen!! and now i hope you guys can enjoy it just like she did! mwah! and i’m tagging @jeanboyjean since she so kindly asked me to <3

you knew that the day you met eren yeager, your life would never be the same, but my god, did it your life turn upside down. pulled in so many different directions you couldn’t tell what was left or right anymore. you felt like you were losing yourself in the process, but you wanted more of him like you wanted to breathe air.

it was always a mistake. one beautiful, soul-crushing mistake. he’d lead you on with mixed signals and uncertainty, but you lived for the thrill because it was the only interesting thing going on in your life. it’s “for the plot”, as you’d always say. even if your friends told you a million times he was bad news and you would only get hurt in the end, you didn’t care.

he was just your friend, that’s what you two always claimed; just friends, but you always sensed a hint of a lie in those words. you couldn’t be just friends. not when he remembered everything you said down to what you had for lunch last week or that time your mother fainted as she watched you get stitches for the first time as a kid. not when he spoke to you everyday like clockwork, a routine that seemed to come easy. how could you ever be just friends? how could it not be more?

you were inevitably in love with eren yeager, and it crushed you when you realized he never once had those feelings for you. not only that, but he was in love with someone else; mikasa ackerman, his best friend since childhood. it all made perfect sense, and you wished you never met him in the first place. but even then, you couldn’t keep yourself away from him. as long as he didn’t know of your feelings, everything would be fine, right? oh, how you were so, so wrong.

you tortured yourself every time you spoke to him. you listened to him as he pined for mikasa, too scared to admit his feelings to her. of course you knew what it was like to be in that position, the one you wanted was sitting right in front of you and he didn’t seem to have a clue. it frustrated you so much, but even so, you’d rather have something instead of nothing with him. such a sad way to feel, such a sad way to live when you think about it now. always the artist, never the muse. constantly crafting for others, nothing ever created just for you.

you’d push those feelings deep down into the darkest pit of your heart, but no matter how hard you tried, it would all come back every time you saw his face or even thought of him. those thoughts of maybe if you were prettier, funnier, and just overall better plagued your mind, but you had to shake them away. one day, you knew, you’d ultimately become fed up and blow up about it. it was the only way you knew how, the only way you could be free.

so now here you were, sitting at your usual booth in your favorite bar—assuming it may no longer be yours after tonight—waiting for eren to arrive so you could talk. you assumed he could sense your seriousness and urgency when you texted him, but you figured so be it. one way or another, you’d do this.

he arrived like you expected. you refused to let him make you second guess yourself, so you kept your cool and acted as normal before you dropped the bomb on him. besides, the shot you took before he showed up was quite the help, plus the drink you swirled around in its glass now.

eren walked over to the bar to grab a drink before heading over to the booth, expecting you to stand up and greet him with a hug like always, but you remained in your seat, clutching your drink in your hands.

“hey, i got your text.” he said as he sat down across from you.

“i see that.” you reply. he noticed you were acting different, not like the y/n he knew. it was obvious you had something on your mind, and since he knew you so well, eren could sense you were going to spill your guts about something.

“what’s up? is something wrong?” eren asked. this was it.

“i just.” you pause. oh god, you were really doing this. “i just wanted to say that i’m done with whatever this is.”

he’s silent, he doesn’t know what to say. you feel like the words are all coming out like vomit. you almost wish you were spewing real vomit right now, but you weren’t quite drunk enough for that. you had to get through this hellish conversation first, at least.

“i’m done. i’m not going to make a fool out of myself anymore. i’m done trying. i’m giving up.” you say, tears threatening to stream down your face, but you fight them away. “i’m done exhausting myself of trying to be something i’ll never be because deep down i know i’ll never be yours.”

eren should’ve seen this coming. all those times you fell silent when he ranted to you about his love problems. you always wanted to scream in his face about how the one person in this world that actually wanted him was always right there, that it was you. even so, he could never give you what you wanted, and he felt like the worst person in the world because of it.

you wait for him to speak, but he doesn’t say anything. if this was going to be your final conversation, he might as well say something. “well, speak now or forever hold your peace because i’m clearly not holding mine.”

“i mean, it’s just not what i was expecting to hear.” eren finally spoke. “i’m just shocked.”

“trust me, i never expected to say it either, but if i’ve learned anything, it’s that i care too much.” you tearfully admit. “too much about you when i know where your heart belongs and it’s not with me.”

“i’m sorry, y/n. i never meant for things to get like this.” he said with sincerity, although you wondered if it was all a lie. “and you must know that there was never any hostile intentions behind any of my actions.”

“that’s funny. it always seemed like there was.” you looked down at your drink, quickly moving your gaze back to him as he spoke once more.

“no, you…” eren paused, trying to put the words together in the best way he could. even if he didn’t seem like it, he did care someway, somehow. “you’ve been there for me when i needed someone most and i’m really, really grateful for that, but i can’t give you what you want, and i’ve been unfair to you as a result. i’m sorry.”

huh. this really wasn’t what you were expecting. where’s the insults? where’s the twisting of your words? why is he actually being apologetic and taking accountability? you wanted to say this was crazy, but this is eren you’re talking about. you always knew he was too good. too good to ever be yours, even.

“you know, this is usually the part where you flip out and make it all my fault instead by calling me delusional and crazy.” you force a laugh. might as well laugh through the pain, right?

“i’m not gonna flip out.” eren said.

“why?” you question him.

“because i know i’ve done wrong by you.” he replied.

“well, that’s a shock.” you take a sip of your drink, tempted to chug it, but eren’s words shocked you into stopping the liquid from going past your lips.

“it shouldn’t have to be, y/n.” he frowned. “you deserve someone who won’t weigh you down. you deserve to move on, even if it’s not flattering for me.”

you set down your drink as you let out a sigh and briefly cover your face, rubbing your eyes before showing yourself once more. “i hate that you’re being so nice about this. i was expecting to yell at you or something.”

“do you want to?” eren asked you.

as much as past you would have loved to, you didn’t have the energy to be bitter anymore. “no… i’m okay. this is better.”

“you sure?”

“yeah, positive.” you say, followed by silence. there wasn’t much for you to say anymore, and you couldn’t beat on this dead horse any longer. it was time to finally say goodbye, no matter how much it pained you to do so. “um, i guess we should just end this here, huh?”

“yeah, guess so.” he looked away. this hurt eren too, but you both knew this was for the best. you’ll be thankful later down the road.

“would it be totally wrong to sneak in a taylor swift quote right now?” you ask, almost immediately regretting the question.

“no, go for it.”

“eh, maybe not. too corny.” you thought it would be best to keep those words to yourself. besides, it was too hard to pin it down to just one thing. he was worth a hundred songs, ones you may never listen to the same way, but that’s okay.

“she’s a wise, wise woman, you know.” eren said, a grin slowly creeping up on his face, despite the circumstances.

“yeah, she is.” you softly smile. at least you could end this on a little good note.

“goodbye, y/n. i wish you the best in everything.”

“goodbye, eren. i really hope you get her someday.”

and with that, you placed a twenty dollar bill on the table and left the bar, no longer claiming it as your favorite and leaving it to eren, along with your favorite place to sit. like with everything else in life, nothing lasts forever, nothing stays the same, and that’s okay. you knew that now.

it was such a strange feeling, having this weight lifted off your shoulders. you had been burdened with this boulder for so long you forgot what it felt like to be weightless. you were finally clean of eren yeager, light as a feather, but most importantly, happy, and freeing yourself of such delusions was the greatest gift you could ever receive.

© plutoccult / 310802. please do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my content in or outside of tumblr. reblogs are appreciated <3

[blissfulip]

—Legion

On AO3

Priest!Viktor x F!demon!reader

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Priest Kink, Blasphemy, Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Self-Flagellation, Demon Sex, Demon Summoning, Demon/Human Relationships, demon reader, AU - Canon Divergence, Post medieval era, Dubious Science, Church Sex, Roman Catholicism, Catholic Guilt, Improper Use of Catholic Rituals, Shameless Smut, Masturbation, No use of Y/N, third person.

Cw: mentions of Child SA, allusions to the witch trials

Words: 3.1k

[A/N: Sorry for making the bishop so annoying I made myself angry proof-reading this lmao (let me know if you want to be tagged or removed in future fic updates!)]

Tags: @ihopeinevergetsoberr @chemical-killjoy @jinxed-jk @bobobomao @queen-of-elves @thedustybunny @syren201 @thayfass @thehistoriangirl @hypocritic-trash-baby @zaunitearchives

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II.

Noon had started to crack, and Viktor sat still at the edge of his bed, his left leg throbbing with a persistent ache and guilt consuming him as he grappled with the weight of his recent actions. His mind swirled in a tumult of self-condemnation and regret as the looming certainty of facing Father Isidore when he would eventually be called up to the kitchen for lunch weighed over him.

How could he, entrusted with the guidance of others, find himself so lost in the labyrinth of his own sin? It was so easy, too, to feel like the absolutions he offered were hollow, his own inability to forgive himself casting a shadow over the sanctity of his role. And amidst this turmoil, the relentless ache in his left leg—probably due to kneeling for a prolonged stretch of time, but that in the wake of what he had just done felt more akin to divine punishment—served as a reminder of his frailty, both physical and spiritual. 

But pain is purification, suffering gives way to redemption, and penitence is salvation, so isn’t pleasure the correct response after all? If martyrdom is the ultimate act of love, then why shouldn’t agony be met with enjoyment? That was the lie Viktor soothed himself with before deciding to be a step ahead of the altar boys and make his way to the kitchen. 

-----------------------------

His leg protested with each step, but it seemed insignificant compared to the stinging feeling on his back now that he had the rough fabric rubbing against it. What lingered wasn’t nearly as pleasant as before; however, he felt undeserving of making a fuss about it, it being a punishment—ironically—for a self-inflicted punishment that he shouldn’t have delighted in. 

As he entered, the comforting scent of freshly brewed coffee greeted him, mingling with the faint aroma of incense that clung to his robes and clashing with the uninviting presence of Father Isidore, who sat at the table, steaming cup in hand. 

“Viktor, my son,” he exclaimed in a voice that sounded sweet and as sticky and treacherous as molasses, “I trust you have...repented.”

Viktor clenched his jaw, a wave of trepidation washing over him as he felt his judgmental gaze on him. Viktor severely disliked the special way Father Isidore enunciated; emphasis on certain words never seemed like enough for him; he always made it a point to hiss and spit; his lips thinned out and tense like he was holding in a growl. It didn’t match his childlike guise, and this made Viktor weary of him ever since he was a kid. 

“I have,” he replied tersely, taking a seat opposite his superior’s robust presence. 

"It seems, however, that some of us struggle more than others with the concept of self-control," he remarked, his words dripping with a subtle veil of aggression.

Viktor's stomach churned with resentment. "I am aware of my shortcomings, Father," he retorted, his voice tinged with bitterness. 

“Don’t misunderstand me, son. It is never my intention to prohibit your studies or peg your enthusiasm for learning; you know our monastery has always valued knowledge of the great arts.”

“Until it challenges one of your universal truths, that is.”

“Precisely, are you trying to imply we should challenge the dogma?” 

Viktor stayed silent. 

“Tell me, do you think you are above us all?” 

“Of course I don’t, father.” but he did, and this whole lecture was starting to get old. 

“Then you must clearly think you are above sin. So holy and pure that you are able to read such heretic words and not be tempted by them?” He said this as he got closer to Viktor, his face slowly turning beet red: “unde et corda filiorum hominum implentur malitia et contemptu in vita sua et post haec ad inferos deducentur.”

And then he did the same eyebrow raise he used to do when Viktor was a child, and he was testing his knowledge of the scripture. Viktor sighed, partly in defeat but mostly in annoyance. 

“‘Hence the hearts of the sons of men are filled with malice and contempt in their lives, and after this they are brought down to hell’,” he answered as he instinctively leaned back on the chair, the scorching sensation reminding him why it was a terrible idea. 

“I can tell you are in pain; why must you still be so stubborn, even when you are enduring your penitence on the flesh?” 

“I see no malice in curiosity.”

“Even when you intentionally seek the words of miscreants, knowing full well the danger it presents?”

“I don’t seek dangerous ideals; the universe is, and I simply try to understand it.”

“You are lost, Viktor.” Father Isidore’s lips curled up into a grin of contempt, a show of mockery that made it clear his concern for Viktor’s soul came from a place of scorn. 

“Temptatio vos non adprehendat nisi humana, something something, and God will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear and, eh, I forgot what comes after,” Viktor recited, quiet but defiant. 

“To me, you are nothing but a test of resilience, Viktor. If I have to tear you down myself to build you back up as a God-honoring servant, I will.” He said this as he visibly struggled to disguise his frustration. “Come, I would like you to meet someone.”

--------------------------------

As they made their way through the narrow streets of the small town, the bustling activity of the market greeted them. Vibrant stalls lined the cobblestone paths, their displays of fresh produce and handmade goods drawing Viktor’s attention. All the while, he wondered who this mysterious person and possible weapon of torture would be. 

Father Isidore walked with an air of authority, his presence commanding respect as he exchanged warm greetings with anyone who crossed their path. Soon they came upon an elderly woman sitting by a small table, adorned with a meager assortment of goods. Her weathered face bore the deep lines of a life well-lived, yet her eyes sparkled with a warmth that belied her frailty. She smiled weakly as they approached, her gnarled hands clasped tightly in her lap.

"Good morning, Father!" called out an elderly woman, her face lighting up with a smile as she approached. "Blessings be upon you." 

He gave back a smile that could've fooled anyone, but Viktor couldn't shake the feeling that there was something calculated in his demeanor. "And to you as well, my dear," Father Isidore replied, his tone tinged with a hint of forced sincerity. "How are you faring today?"

"Oh, just getting by as best I can, Father," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. "Times have been hard, but the Lord provides."

"Indeed, He does, and speaking of such, have you been able to fulfill your tithe to the church this month?”

The elderly woman's smile faltered slightly, her gaze dropping to her lap as she fidgeted with the worn fabric of her apron. "I... I'm afraid not, Father," she admitted, her voice barely audible. "Things have been tight lately, with the harvest being poor and all."

His expression hardened imperceptibly, though his tone remained gentle as he pressed the issue. "I understand, my dear," he continued. "But you must remember the importance of supporting the church, especially in these trying times. Perhaps there is something else you could sacrifice to ensure your tithe is met."

Viktor watched in silent anger as the elderly woman's shoulders slumped in resignation, her eyes downcast as she nodded in reluctant agreement. Despite his own discomfort, he couldn't help but feel a surge of rage at the ease with which Father Isidore exploited the vulnerability of this woman for the sake of the church's coffers.

“If I may, Lucida,” Viktor interjected. Different from his superior, he knew the members of their community; he had taken time to know them and had offered his friendship along with his guidance. “You must be forgetting; your daughter has already come to offer lithe on behalf of your family.”

This was a lie, but be it because Lucida’s age was betraying her memory or because she had taken the hint of what Viktor was doing, it didn’t matter. Her mouth shaped into a round O as she nodded at both of them. Father Isidor looked at Viktor with suspicion but did not press the issue any further either, simply dragging Viktor by his free arm to continue on their way. 

A modest house was nestled along the path. Father Isidore announced himself with a drawn-out knock on the solid wood of the door, and the figure of a weary woman appeared as the door peered open. When she saw the men, her feeble demeanor swiftly morphed into visible uneasiness. 

Viktor knew her; she had been at the cathedral at least once, and multiple times she had made herself present at Viktor’s masses in the small town parish. She had never reacted this way to him before, so Viktor knew it was the man beside him who was causing this woman concern. 

“Father Isidore, I’m sorry; I did not expect to see you here,” she cried out, trying to hide the tremble in her voice. 

“Fret not, dear; I haven’t come to collect her yet; I simply wanted Viktor to meet her.” He scrutinized the inside of the house from where he stood before gently pushing the woman aside to enter the house, uninvited. Viktor gave her quiet apologies and small awkward smiles, following close behind him when she gave him a sign to invite him in. 

The woman took them to the other side of the small house; there, the threshold of what seemed to have been a door in the past separated this expanse from the rest of the house. In the dimly lit chamber, a young teenage girl sat on the edge of her bed, her long black twin braids cascading down her shoulders like a dark veil, so dark that if you looked at it under the right light, it might even look blue.

Her posture was slumped, and her slender frame seemed to wilt under an invisible weight. The room around her felt heavy with silence, broken only by the faint sound of her shallow breaths. She looked up to look at them as the three entered, but her once vibrant eyes, now dulled and distant, gazed blankly ahead, unfocused and unseeing. 

“Darling, Father Isidore has come to see you; will you say hi to him and his friend?” Her mother asked delicately as she sat down on the bed next to her. Viktor was stumped; he didn’t remember seeing this girl at any of the functions before or around the town as he ran errands. The girl’s hands lay limply in her lap, fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on the faded bedspread as she looked at Father Isidore. 

And very subtly, her once empty gaze welled up with noticeable rage. 

“What do you want, sheep?” Her voice sounded so sweet, yet her words were so filled with venom.

“Careful now; I’m not here to take you yet, but I might change my mind if you decide to get nervy with me.” 

She squinted slightly before giving Father Isidore an empty smirk and snapping her head quickly to look directly at Viktor. “Are you in trouble too? I’m only ever used as an example.” 

“I-eh, I’m not sure.” Viktor pondered her words for a short second: “An example?”

“For what not to do.” She scoffed; she now seemed unaffected by their presence, giggling at Viktor’s confused expression, like he had told her a joke. “What did you do? Illegal medicine?” she asked, and she continued when she received no response. “You’re a priest; did you lay with a woman? Oh, oh, oh, a man, perhaps?”

The amusement in her tone was not enough to cut the tension in the air. Viktor wondered why no one seemed to care about what she was saying, but he figured Father Isidore was attempting to make a point out of this, and her mother was too afraid to do anything that might upset the bishop. 

“I would ask you if you touched a child, but they care considerably less about that than they do about banned...That’s it, isn’t it? You—” She said, now wiggling her feet like she had reverted to an earlier stage of her life. “—are a man of science; I can see in your eyes that you know what heliocentrism is.” She giggled her way through those words and looked at Viktor with wide eyes, awaiting a response. 

A tense silence hung in the air, broken only by the soft shuffle of feet on the worn floorboards as the mother stood by the door, her expression wrought with fear, while Father Isidore's features were etched with thinly veiled frustration.

Suddenly, the girl spoke, her voice soft but tinged with defiance. "You can't stop me, fawner," she said, her words cutting through the heavy silence like a knife. "I won't let you."

Father Isidore's eyes narrowed, his lips pressed into a thin line, as he shot the girl a warning glare. "Enough," he admonished. "You know the consequences of disobedience, and you know what awaits you; don’t make an effort to rush your departure."

With a sense of urgency, the mother hurriedly ushered them toward the door, pleading and apologizing on her daughter’s behalf, and in the onslaught of their departure, Viktor felt a small object slip into his hand. Startled, he glanced down only to see the girl’s swift fingers pressing something into his palm and a pair of brazen eyes that quickly snuck back onto the bed, unnoticed. 

He didn’t dare to look, not as long as he had eyes on him, so he clenched his fist around it, as if something told him he ought not to lose it. Viktor's mind raced with questions, his confusion mounting with each hurried step as they silently walked the path back to the parish. As they climbed the small steps to go inside the building, the bishop spoke. 

“She is being taken to undergo a trial for witchcraft, but I’m sure what you saw made that evident.”

“She doesn’t look like a witch.”

“What do witches look like, son?”

“Wretched, evil, hateful...”

“And is it not evil to go against the dogma of our faith? Is it not wretched to seek deranged ideals like ‘heliocentrism’ and ‘geokinesis’, mad, truly mad things for someone who is fearful of God to believe, and especially wicked for a woman to believe?”

Viktor did not answer. 

“God has great plans for you, Viktor. Do not stray from your path, and you’ll be able to avoid an end like hers” He said, punctuating the last word with a hefty—and ignobly intentional—pat on his back. 

The wounds, still fresh and tender, protested vehemently against the sudden contact, each movement a reminder of the agony that plagued him. He visibly winced and took a sharp breath through gritted teeth, doing his best to suppress the urge to cry out in pain. But it wasn't just the physical discomfort that gnawed at him. Beneath the surface, a simmering anger had been bubbling. 

-----------------------------------

Alone again in the confines of his quarters, Viktor sank to his knees in front of the small wooden crucifix that adorned the wall. His hands trembled as he clasped them together in prayer, his lips moving silently in fervent entreaty. 

“Pater Noster qui es in caelis, sanctificetur nomen tuum…” He began automatically, but he didn’t know what he had prayed for. 

When the prayer ended, there was silence.

“Ave Maria, gratia plena, Dominus tecum, benedicta tu in mulieribus…” He started once again, perhaps a mother would pity him.

Silence. 

Anger burned within him like a smoldering ember. The rotund face of Father Isidore plagued his inner thoughts. How could a man of God, a shepherd of the faithful, wield his power with such callous disregard?

But beneath the anger lay a deeper, more insidious emotion: guilt. Guilt for his own weakness, for his depravity, for his inability to rise above the turmoil and find solace in his faith. With a frustrated sigh, Viktor bowed his head lower, his hands clenching into fists as he fought to contain the tempest raging within him. 

"Why?" he whispered, his voice barely audible in the silence of the room. "Why do I pray, day after day, only to be met with silence? Have I been forsaken, abandoned by the very God I serve?"

But as the echoes of his words faded into the darkness, there came no answer, and in that moment of profound solitude, Viktor felt more alone than ever before, until he remembered the small object he had managed to slip into his robes. 

A brass coin, small and thin enough that he could break it with his bare hands if he was not careful. It appeared to have worn off with time, the original color having faded into a dark green, corroded shade. As he held it up to the dim candlelight, the symbol etched into its surface seemed to shimmer—a circle with small letters around its circumference that he couldn’t read. In it there was a smaller circle, and inside of it, even smaller, a strange swirly shape with five triangles on its flat top and a cross in the very center. 

He knew, deep inside, that he recognized what he knew to be the symbol of a creature of darkness and forbidden knowledge. His instincts screamed at him to cast it aside, to rid himself of its tainted influence, but a curious fascination held him captive. In a surge of frustration and desperation, Viktor closed his eyes and clasped the coin tightly in his hands, his lips moving in silent prayer.

“God has failed me; let this be the time I am acknowledged.” For a long moment, nothing happened. The silence stretched on, broken only by the soft whisper of his own breath. But then, just as Viktor's hope began to wane, he felt a strange warmth emanating from the coin, spreading through his fingertips. 

Like a heavy shroud enveloping the room, suffusing the air with palpable tension, the atmosphere shifted, thickening with an otherworldly energy that seemed to hum with ancient power. A chill ran down Viktor's spine when he felt a small hand on his shoulder. As he summoned the courage to gaze upon the figure behind him, he found himself confronted by a sight that defied all comprehension.

The figure of a woman, alluring and terrible but terrifyingly familiar, stood before him. A surge of primal terror mixed with a morbid fascination compelled him to stand his ground, and then he heard her voice. 

“Curious, very curious.” She whispered. 

[frownyalfred]

tl;dr: what's your opinion on posting roleplay replies on ao3?

i know they are frowned upon on ao3, at least that's what i've seen so far, which i can understand... to some extend. they are allowed in the archive, yes, but they also clock tags and it's annoying to read something you don't understand without the other replies and further context. they are tolerated, but i get the sentiment.

here's the thing... i rarely write for myself. i enjoy writing with others and building something together, and sometimes i create pieces i'd love to share. like, recently i have written a reply for someone that explores two different bruce's; one that has helena wayne/the huntress as his biological daughter, one that doesn't, how she got cursed into another universe, and how one deals with losing his child, while the other tries to re-order his life in order to make her fit. it's something beautiful that works on it's own, something i am very fond and proud of, but i'm torn on wether i should post it or not.

i could've kept the fact it's from roleplay a secret, but that also feels shit, lmao. i could keep it to tumblr, but no one would read what i put out -- let's be real, tumblr works very different compared to ao3. so i thought i'd give reaching out to one of my favorite authors a chance.

sorry for the lenght, feel no need to answer.

Hmm. I guess I haven't given it a ton of thought before now. I don't usually engage in roleplay myself, but I absolutely view it as a legitimate version of creation. Just because it's created a certain way doesn't mean it doesn't belong on ao3 -- it's an archive for transformative works, not just cookie-cutter fic formats.

I would say, err on the side of caution and tag as much as you're comfortable (tagging things after the required ao3 warnings is always optional, I want to reiterate, but sometimes additional tags help readers a lot). Make sure it's clear what the structure of the work is, if possible, but don't do yourself a disservice by making roleplay a dirty word, if you use it.

I don't think you're "clogging" up the tag, any more than the person writing 139/250 50 word individual fics haha. There will always be floods of content in various tags, and people who throw shitfits about that need to grow up. Unless someone is breaking the ao3 TOS, everything else is "etiquette" and that truly is nebulous and subjective, even if people will insist it isn't.

As for the missing context and replies -- I think that's something you can get creative with, if you want. But also, if you never fill in those blanks or provide that context, that's okay too. It's an archive, not a site where you have to actively promote your fic and make it the most appealing it can be to the largest group of people.

A final note on context though: I've found that the roleplay chunks I do come across in the wild look a lot like dialogue planning I do for some fics! If you ever want to turn them into a traditional fic structure, I don't think you're very far off at all. But only if you wanted! As I said above, I think what you have is 100% legitimate and should stand on its own on ao3.

[yourtwistedlies]

❝ women’s hearts are lethal weapons ❞

val ! ✩ she/her ✩ minor ✩ jason grace’s gf (REAL) ✩ speak now obsessed ✩ gracie abrams lovebot ✩ summer baby ✩ certified procrastinator ✩ professional listener ✩ pathological people pleaser ✩ general amaya’s #1 fan ✩ fitz vacker defender ✩ honorary grammar police ✩ kpop stan (mostly ggs) ✩ my moots’ cheerleader ✩ under the illusion i can write ✩ somewhat smart ✩ cabin 13 girl ✩

dni: if you are racist, homophobic, xenophobic, support kill all ___, sexist, 18+ only, religiophobic, creepy, toxic, or literally just a jerk, please leave!

byi: i swear sometimes!! i also adore using cute nicknames and pet names for my moots!! if you don’t feel comfortable w/ that or anything else, please let me know <33

moots - wattpad - ao3 - carrd - follower event (coming soon ⁉️) - save the children!

•̩̩͙⁺ the basics ₊˚. ↴ ·˚༘

call me valerie/val or twisted!!

she/her, straight (heterosexual), minor (18+ only acc’s please do not follow), 18+ do not interact unless i interact first or we are moots (on my list or to be added- i am the judge of who is to be added), cancer (zodiac, but i don’t believe in them), Christian (i post about it sometimes), << summer baby, entp (mbti), 8w7 (enneagram), ambivert, slytherin, cabin 13, shade (guys i swear i wasn’t trying to be edgy or smth with the past two and this 😭😭 i took the official quizzes i promise lmao), swiftie, kpop fan, staying up writing until 4am gives me life, purple is the best color (this is not up to debate, only yellow even comes close), proud notes app writer, CATS > DOGS (occasionally my verdict changes), bunny lover, chronic platonic sofitzer, i’m either hyperactive or extremely tired (there is no in between), people say im smart, but sometimes i feel like the biggest idiot ever lmao, and ofc dex dizznee’s much needed publicist (my favorite role of mine ever)!!!

•̩̩͙⁺ music ₊˚. ↴ ·˚༘

taylor swift, olivia rodrigo, sza, conan gray, alicia keys, emei, gracie abrams, maisie peters, sabrina carpenter, laufey, queen riri (rihanna), adele, beabadoobee, tiffany day, le sserafim, ive, newjeans, itzy, nmixx, stay-c, aespa, everglow, txt (baby fan), illit ＆ more kpop, lizzy mcalpine, pheobe bridgers, nessa barrett, pinkpantheress, claire rosinkranz, lyn lapid, alessia cara, reneé rapp, mckenna grace, and more!!

as i hope you can tell, i like a lot of music :)

•̩̩͙⁺ books ₊˚. ↴ ·˚༘

pjo, hoo, (never read toa, but yes, ik what happens in tbm), the rrverse, kotlc, city spies, ss (spy school), alex rider (not done with rr), the academy for the unbreakable arts,

and my many other fandoms i’ve forgotten about (dead magisterium fandom oop-)

i’ll add more fandoms as i remember them lol

•̩̩͙⁺ ships ₊˚. ↴ ·˚༘

rayllum, clauderry (stfu they’re adorable), percabeth (otp energy), sokeefe, dexiana, tiana (yes i know im the most indecisive bitch ever shut up you toad /jjjj i actually love u platonically), jason grace x ME (/j but i do love him lol), and more!!

•̩̩͙⁺ blogs ₊˚. ↴ ·˚༘

side blog: @yourtangledpromises

taylor blog: @iknowplxces (guys this is so abandoned + has my old intro 🤮 ignore this js trust - august 15 2024 val)

and perhaps more?? (muahahaha)

•̩̩͙⁺ side note ₊˚. ↴ ·˚༘

if you’d like to be added to my moots list, or talk, please tell me (by wonder girls)!!

if we’re moots we’re actually bffs now (you just don’t notice it yet)

if i don’t respond to your ask/tag/rb/literally anything immediately i am not ignoring you!! i’m just lazy or busy and will do it later <33

im your biggest fan btw

1 Corinthians 16:14

with love,

valerie

[welcometololaland]

almost uploaded a picture of my bank statement instead of this header! happy days!

thanks for the tags @hippolotamus @kiwiana-writes @happiness-of-the-pursuit @rmd-writes

@nancygillianmvp @terramous @tellmegoodbye @freneticfloetry @beautifulhigh

@orchidscript @myheartalivewrites and @strandnreyes (don't think that was a real tag but i'm taking it anyway to force you to love me).

1. How many works do you have on Ao3?

49 (last time it was 46 but i feel like that isn't enough of a difference? disappointed in myself dfhskjh)

2. What's your Ao3 bodycount word count?

1,119,086 which does include some co-writes, but I also have around 200k of unposted WIP in my google docs so i'm counting it (including a fully written fic - someone put their hands around my neck and force me to edit it PLEASE).

3. Which fandoms do you write for?

red white and royal blue, 911 lone star, top gun maverick (flirting with winter's orbit always)

4. Top 5 fics by kudos?

the order of these has changed but not the identity:

Speak for Yourself (RWRB) (you know when eminem said he'd never be able to top My Name Is? this is my version of that)

Fifty First Dates (RWRB) (oodie agenda reigns supreme)

The RIng-In (Lone Star) (otherwise, lone star is in danger of being eviscerated from this top 5 lmao)

(Not) A Cinderella Story (RWRB) (NDAs are hot, apparently)

Cursed is a State of Mind (RWRB) (cursed caffeine is the main drawcard let's not lie)

5. Do you respond to comments?

i try my absolute best to. i am currently really behind and i apologise for that (the problem is, i reply to comments before i post anything and i haven't posted anything in ages).

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

serious answer - Contaminated

my answer - oh baby i'm a fool for you because we never find out if they actually watch twilight and that's a damn shame

7. What is the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

literally everything else - i don't really do open endings or sad endings! in the words of the great philosopher, skepta: "nah, that's not me."

8. Do you get hate on fics?

i used to, but i haven't in ages! thank god for that.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

yes, although i have to say i've been moving away from pwp lately. i feel my best smut is written into longer fics where the sex serves a plot or characterisation purpose within the frame of the overarching narrative.

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

yes, a RWRB/LS but i never finished it. ALTA is a veronica mars inspired tarlos fic which kind of feels like a crossover at times.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

not to my knowledge :)

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

yes! Phonography (Lone Star) has been translated, as has Baby, Make Your Move (Lone Star) and Warm Whispers (Lone Star). I'm very grateful to the incredible people who have made these translations happen - you are so talented.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic?

yes, many with @dustratcentral. I also wrote a chapter of a co-written fic with a whole bunch of incredible RWRB authors called never the same twice.

@rmd-writes and I have created (Un)Professional Services and (upcoming) Call Me (By Your Name).

The Rainbow Fish was co-written with @strandnreyes.

I love co-writing so much and I am always open to anyone who wants to give it a go!

14. What's your all time favourite ship?

me + my unposted wips.

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

probably the aforementioned crossover which was apparently also my answer last time.

16. What are your writing strengths?

i'm allergic to giving myself compliments but i would say maybe dialogue/banter and worldbuilding.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

keeping things short. also, exposition.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

kinda scared to because i don't speak any other languages and i'm so hesitant to annoy my very talented multi-lingual friends with my annoying questions.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

we don't talk about that.

20. Favourite fic you've written?

probably still Love Game because the experience was just so amazing and i never wanted to stop writing it.

heaps of people have already done this so leaving an open tag and also a couple of suggestions under the cut but apologies if you've already participated or been tagged 7 million times:

@bonheur-cafe @theghostofashton @thebumblecee @indomitable-love @eclectic-sassycoweyes

@tailoredshirt @vineofroses @liminalmemories21 @mikibwrites @birdclowns

@ladytessa74 @basilsunrise @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut @rosedavid @sanjuwrites

@alrightbuckaroo @three-drink-amy @marjansmarwani @dumbpeachjuice @doublel27

@lemonlyman-dotcom @blueink3 @ambiguouspenny @clottedcreamfudge @emmalostinwonderland

@sail-not-drift @inexplicablymine @celeritas2997 @cricketnationrise @reyesstrand

@goodways @carlos-in-glasses @heartstringsduet @sunshinestrand @sherryvalli

[pixelatedraindrops]

Hello everyone!! Today I grow a year older :3 (and I hate it lmao) FEEL FREE TO REPLY BIRTHDAY WISHES IF YOU WANT :3

So, over the time I've come back here, I've become pretty confident and proud of my once hidden passion about sick characters, sickfics and sick comfort/whump... 🌡️

And you all have been so supportive and sweet despite my weirdness so I thank you for that. You helped me feel more confident in my otherwise weird fixation <3 So, for my birthday I thought I'd try and make up a little drawing challenge for anyone who wants to give it a try... There are soo many talented artists on this site (and in this fandom)

So... It's your turn to target your faves now. You will see how fun it is and hopefully understand why I love doing it so much. 😈🌡️

(plus it's my birthday and I require some sustenance LMAO JKJK)

But yeah anyone can join in. This is just for fun though! You don't have to if you don't want to! I think its okay to ask for some food on my birthday though...right?? X'D So if you wanna do sth for my birthday...then... 👉👈 💦

CHALLENGE BELOW~

DRAW YOUR FAVE ON A SICK DAY CHALLENGE🌡️😷🥵🤧

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(Mmmmkay, I am lying to myself when I say this isn't mostly aimed at the RainCode community... X'D Can't help myself. But anyone can join regardless of the fandom!!)

So here's the challenge and the rules!! (featuring my two main lil targets ofc :3)

Regardless of who it is, put your fave through some sickness hell >:3c I'd love to see it! Make em' as miserable as you want!

destroy them 😈 jkjk XD

If you're in the RainCode community you can target anyone, but as you know, my main targets are Yuma and Makoto. If they're also your faves and who you decide to use, that will make me extra happy!

Some tips for anyone new to drawing a sick day scenario art. A few things that make it look convincing are the following:

Pajamas or Loungewear

Messy Bed Hair

Fever flushed face w sweat or at least a red nose

Tired Eye bags

Shivery body

Ice Pack or a Compress on the head

Thermometer sticking from their mouth

LOTS OF BLANKETS

Tissues or medicine surrounding them

Tea or Soup (or both)

Those are just to name some from the top of my head. If you'd like some pointers on how to make a character look ill, check out my Fever Coloring Guide. This is for digital artists but traditional artists can try it too!

You can add injury or angst to the scene but I'd like illness to be the main focus of it.

The scene can be anything you want to, it can be fluffy and wholesome (with a caretaker) it can be angsty, or it can be silly. Its all up to you! Do it for the sake of fluff! Caretaking scenes are the best for any kind of relationship >w<

Either way, have fun with it!! I look forward to see what people make if they decide to give it a try! It doesn't even have to be a full on picture! Doodles and sketches are fine too! Just show me something >w<

(feel free to tag me and say happy b-day and mention my challenge, I am proud to be known for this and would love for many to participate :3) I wanna see you take a go at it :3 Show me your style! :D

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(wow look at me misspelling the word writing on text when I did it fine with my own hands lol)

Now, I know not everyone can draw...

Well never fear! I accept writing as well! ✍️✍️✍️

(hi vivia lol sorry for giving you a cold, at least you have an excuse to read and do nothing now haha x3)

Sickfics are one of the biggest things I live for! Any little drabbles or full fics with more than one chapter are welcome! Again target who you want any fandom you want, but I'll def be super happy if you make a RainCode fic. And even happier if you target my faves as well, but again, anything will do! Just make a cute story about your fave being miserable and being tended to! Trust me, it's super fun!

You can add injury or angst to the scene but I'd like illness to be the main focus of it.

Feel free to post your writing here and tag me or mention my AO3!

If you need a start to your fic, look on my blog for illness prompts! Maybe it can help give you a good start or give some inspiration! (thats why I share 'em :3)

I look forward to anything you try to write!

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That's about all!! I hope you decide to participate! ✨

Good luck, have fun, and godspeed you future whumpers! 😈

(nah jk XD)

AGAIN THIS IS FOR FUN! NO PRRSSURE IF YOU DON'T WANT TO!