#men in armor…….. save me men in plate armor…….

[borom1r]

im unwell.

[gremlingottoosilly]

The Horror and The Wild [Emperor!Konig x fem!Reader] Medieval Fantasy AU (ch.4)

You had a nice, simple life. Serve the princess, obey the princess, protect the princess with your life. You never thought that this nice, simple life would bring you to be kidnapped by the infamous Northern Emperor. Konig never thought that kidnapping a wife would be much easier than courting one.

CHAPTER 1 CHAPTER 2| Chapter 3| Chapter 4| you're here! AO3 Word count: 3469 Tags/Warnings: Medieval fantasy/Alternative European history AU, Age gap, Enemies(one-sided)to lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Forced marriage, Size difference(Konig is absolutely huge), Somewhat one-sided slow burn, Yandere Konig Warnings for this chapter: Dub-con oral sex(f!receiving), outdated views regarding sex

— Now, dear princess, your husband will expect certain…qualities of his wife. Please, you must listen to this as closely as possible if we want to avoid…traumas. 

You pout, eating the apple that was provided to you by a group of servants who looked way too scared to be appointed to a princess. If Her Highness saw this, she would order them whipped – a servant shall never look unhappy in front of their patron, as not to invoke nasty feelings of sadness, misery, and empathy in the royal rulers. Princess made you smile and laugh through hours of her extensive, albeit a bit improvised and amateur, singing. You were to hold her hair while she was doing it, listening to the melodies of desire to escape the castle. 

The servants in front of you were sent by the Emperor – König, to…teach you something. You were not too interested in his, way too invested in weird fruits from foreign countries that they provided – still, you are too well-mannered to ignore them. 

— Traumas? Is his Emperor’s Illustrosicy going to torture me? 

Servants look over at each other, nervous. You tilt your head to the side, trying to see if you can decipher their gazes – but you see nothing but sympathy. Sad, miserable kind. Your blood runs cold as you get another bite of that apple. 

— You’re as innocent as Emperor said, your Majesty. 

You weren’t, in reality – you’re a liar, a traitor to your nation, the only one of the servants who was too scared to die alongside the royal family and performed that foolish gamble in order for a chance to save your hide. Such silly things like an untouchable hymen between your legs or lack of knowledge of intimacy, saved for a few books, are nothing compared to the life you are saving in your mind, There is nothing innocent about you or your actions. 

— W…well, you see…you are of child-bearing age. 

That was up for discussion. You might be an adult by all standards, a bit too ripe even, too sheltered for the age in which young men are already taking their family’s businesses and women are giving birth to their second and third children, but it doesn’t mean you want to bear someone’s kid. Definitely not conceive from a man who destroyed your future. 

— I won’t do it. 

You act like a princess would – bratty and pouty, all the new dresses and the room they place you in acting like a perpetuar of your ego. 

— My Lady, this isn’t up for discussion. Please, we need to…we need to teach you how to do it, in order to prevent…accidents. 

— What accidents? 

The other servant, an older lady with tired eyes and snappy gestures, took out a pile of drawings from the bag she was holding. Quite a lot of drawings. Quite detailed drawings. Quite nasty drawings. 

Quite…bloody drawings. 

Gods, is this what a woman must endure during lovemaking? Is this even lovemaking, or is this a dissection straight from the medical book? The drawings are lewd and horrifying – whoever was the artist, they didn’t spare the details of the act. Pain, blood, torn flesh…god, if they wanted you to learn how to take your husband properly, they did a horrible job – now you don’t ever want to see him again. Not without armor plates protecting…that thing. 

— I w…won’t do it. Behead me this instant.

Your voice is weak, horrified. Servants look equally scared. 

— Your Majesty, you must know that it’s just…the worst outcome. If you listen to your lessons and relax, you will escape such a fate. 

— How could a living being relax while they are being impaled on a spear?!

— With certain balms and extracts, such fate can be escaped. 

— How can a balm prevent this?! Too angry to ever listen to the servants, you drip the drawings from your hands, along with a half-eaten apple. Un-ladylike, but you need to preserve your life – and your dignity – before they would show you even more horrifying things that would never let you sleep again. Tugging on the heaviness of your skirt, you ran to the nearest hallway as soon as possible. 

The emperor’s palace is disgustingly big and dark – you’d say it was magnificent in that scary, gothic style, but you don’t have the time to think about all the artistic choices that the architects made by installing so many dark hallways in a place that suppose to protect Emperor from possible assassins. Still, you drop to the nearest dark corner, hoping that no one will follow you. 

With a calm sigh, you brush the dust from your skirts. God, you had to bring that apple with you – it was delicious. 

— I never heard anyone calling my cock  a spear before, Liebling. You’re full of surprises. 

Big, gloved hands are enveloping your waist, putting you in the hug you didn’t want. This embrace is all too familiar and too terrifying – you forget that this castle serves the only true owner, and your desire to escape will never be considered an option. Like a rabbit in the wolf’s mouth, you freeze. The worst company you could expect after such a horrifying lesson – your only hope is that, like men from the novels you and Princess were reading sometimes, The Emperor was into his comrades more than he would be into you. 

His warm hands, pulling you into a tight hug against his body, however, make you think otherwise. 

— Let go of me! Pl…please. 

You plead because the drawings installed a new fear into your body. You're not afraid of death – if anything, you wish for it. However, the fait of constant pain and suffering which each nightly visit makes you more terrified than any death sentence would. 

König only laughs, holding you as close to him as possible. A warm hand grazes over your stomach, making you shiver from anticipation. You don’t know what he is thinking about – you also don’t want to. 

— Why would I let go of my precious wife? 

— I’m not your wife yet. 

— And won’t be for quite a while, considering the lessons my servants taught you? 

Blood drains from your face. Even the slightest reminder makes you whimper – like a puppy without its mother, you let go of a pathetic little sound, and your face finds comfort in the armor plates that Knog wears even in many of his castles. Cold metal makes you slightly calmer, and you can force the dreams of touching his chest instead of deep in your mind. Bane to all the lewdness, as you saw the amount of blood it would drain from your body. 

— I will never succumb to such fate. 

— I promise it won’t be that bad. I can whip my servants for installing fear in you if you want to, little princess. 

No matter how scared they made you feel, you will never bestow such fate on any of the servants – you, perhaps, the only one who knows how hard and horrible work as a lady in waiting might be. You might not be the perfect princess, but you certainly aren’t a cruel one. 

— No. They…they shall not be harmed, Your Majesty. 

He chuckles, pushing a hand on your face. A few tears fall down your cheeks – he drains them with his gloved finger, making you whimper only more. God, you look divine like this – eyes are glistening with tears, the face is hot from fear and embarrassment, the mouth is open with a sweet little pout…it takes every last inch of his self-control not to simply pick you up and bring you to his bedroom before you could say anything. 

— You’re kind for a princess. 

There is suspicion in his voice – but you quickly try to brush it away by forcing yourself out of his embrace. Unfortunately, he only holds you tighter, making you bury your face in his armor again. To be honest, it’s not the worst place to be. 

— Shouldn’t you be in the courtroom? 

— I ran. Never liked to greet new people. 

You almost choke on your breath. Is he serious?! His face betrays his emotions – despite how confident his mask is, you can see that his eyes are colder than usual. More nervous than usual. His hands are shaking, if only for a little bit, holding you tight, as you can simply escape through his fingers like sand. You’d love to have such powers. 

— I thought the Emperor had responded. 

— I do. And an army of men to do these responsibilities for me. 

— You’re hiding from my country’s Ambassadors? 

— Collaborators and traitors of your people, yes. The only ambassador I care about is in my hands. 

With this, he quickly pushes you up in his hands, forcing you to sit on the cold stone ledge. The new dress design makes it possible to manipulate and move the skirt as he pleases – you hate this new fashion because it makes it ridiculously easy for König to simply push your skirt upwards, revealing your legs and your dignity, concealed by only a pair of short, frilly white underpants with so many bows and ribbons, it feels obscene. 

You try to kick him in the face, but he catches your ankle before you can do anything. He was a horrible, terrible man – totally unfit for the ruler of half of the world, you have no idea how a man this villainous could still be held in high regard for his people. This place is just as barbaric as their ruler, you presume – no dignity or sense of taste as König holds your skirt up, tearing apart the delicate fabric. God, it probably cost a fortune! 

Emerald green fabric lays like green ocean waves under your legs. You must admit, even the cold of the inner parts of the palace does not make you feel uncomfortable – if anything, this moment of exposure of your legs makes you feel a bit more comfortable and fresh. The light breeze caresses your legs, and you almost want to close your eyes and just enjoy wearing clothes without the stuffiness of the full gown. 

With your corset, torn skirt, and underpants, you almost feel like you’re wearing pants – an obscene picture, you assume, a lady should never show her ankles to anyone but her husband…and you would do everything to stop him from being marked as one. Still, König places his large imposing body between your legs, and you panic immediately – is this monster terrible enough to show you what those illustrations meant, not even in the comfort of a marriage bed, but in the coldness of the stone hallway? You close your eyes, kicking him to your heart’s content – and he is laughing every time you’re trying to resist, only catching both of your ankles in his grip and forcing them open. God, this is the end. Torture that you never wanted to experience will be bestowed upon you right about…

His tongue goes to rub you through the rough fabric of your underpants. Dispute all the layers of expensive material, your maidenhood feels like it had been set on fire. 

You are suddenly aware of the silly things you have between your legs. You can feel them too well right now – every second of movement of his tongue against sensitive flesh makes your legs kick him less and less. Your nails are trying to dig into the stone of a small ledge you were sitting on – but you can’t do anything to stop this sweet torture he is perpetuating. You want for everything to stop this instant, and you want for him to finally take off your undergarments. 

— Wh…wha…what are you doing?! You don’t scream as loud as you can, only because you know that the maids are nearby and you don’t want to be making a scene. Putting the emperor back in his place and revealing him as a pervert would be nice, of course – but it wasn’t as nice as having your dignity saved. You bite your lips, feeble attempts to save at least parts of yourself – still, you feel like you’re being boiled alive by his masterful tongue, without even the need to bring your pants down and feel him on your flesh directly. 

— I want to show you how nice this could be. 

— How nice what could be?! You are still kicking your legs, and he is slowly taking down the fabric of your underpants. You wish he had exposed hair so you could tug on it – you wish he wasn’t afraid of showing you his face, just so you could break it properly. A lady should always protect her virginity from a man with evil intentions, and König was certainly the most evil person of them all. 

Still, his tongue felt so good, circling around the parts you were only finding accidentally, blindly searching for pleasure like a dumb kitten, trying every little button in your body to see what would make you squirm. He is masterful at this, every action is deliberate and strong – every little thing in his movements makes you wonder just how many women he bedded. 

You can still feel the little tremble in his hands, his fingers that supported you and kept your legs apart are trembling, if only just a bit – you wonder if he truly is nervous about everything he is doing or if he just wants to make everything perfect. His touch leaves a trail of bruises on your inner thighs and you never thought that you’d yearn for a man whose touch is literally hurting you. 

— I know how to make… consumation go painless, little princess. Certainly have the experience for this. 

— Is fondling my undergarments a part of this experience, Your Highness? 

— If you wish for me to lost my control, little princess.

Before you could say anything else about not wanting for him to simply take off your underpants and throw them on the cold floor of the castle, he had already lowered them to hang around your ankles – revealing your sensitive folds, already glossy and wet from all the fondling he performed to make you nice and ready for him. 

König knew he shouldn’t be doing this – losing control would be too easy in this case. Little princess, out of her own depth, can barely stop him when he wants to take something precious from her – still, he wanted to at least try to be slower, softer, to make everything perfect and make her his precious trophy. Her dread over bedding him would prove horrible for their marriage – if she didn’t wish for the workers to be saved, he would already sent those dumb maids away. 

Princess is adult enough to learn the pleasures of being a woman – still, he understood why a king would want to hide a precious flower like this. You don’t behave like a spoiled brat would, no matter how much you want to make him think you were nothing but a pouty face and frowned brows, and he wants to see your true self – your inner nature, revealing itself in front of him. And he knows just a way to do this…

Your cunt is perfect – he is a soldier, a man of war and little romance, he can’t sing you a song of how beautiful and perfect your maidenhood is, but he can lick it and tease it and make you come on his tongue more than you ever could with that dainty fingers of yours. 

He isn’t ashamed of touching your sweetness when he is burning his face between your legs. Not even caring that his hood, which he had to draw back as fast as possible, is going to get messy with all o your juices, he licks and tugs on your clit, your folds, on every sensitive bit of skin of your body. 

And, by god, are you sensitive? 

Soon, your little cries of pleasure are turning into moans that you are pathetically trying to hide. Soon you are marking his rough, rugged face wet with your juices – his nose is pressed on your clit constantly, and that well-mannered, perfectly bred royal woman in your body is moaning like a common whore. 

König isn’t trying to be too gentle – his mind is filled with that boyish nerves and anxiety, the fear of getting spotted not because anyone would have anything to say to the literally fucking emperor, but because he doesn’t want anyone else to see how easily he can drown little princess in pleasure. She is a perfect girl, so pretty for him, so nice and wet when he pushes his tongue in and out. 

He forgot the last time he experienced such pleasure – his dick only grows with each gentle stroke of tongue in your folds, and he doesn’t even need to touch himself. You’re perfect for him, writhing under his touch, he had to force himself to stop putting too much pressure on your poor swollen clit. König almost forgot just how sensitive you are – he had to introduce you slowly to the world of pleasure, not pushing you into the depths before you could even get married, but…well, he was never one to follow the rules – and you, as his precious bride, deserved something nice outside of the wedlock. 

— St…stop, it’s t’ much…

You are mumbling, holding his hood in your hands, and he is almost afraid you are going to pull it to reveal his face even more – but even your ruined skirt is enough of a cover to make his identity concealed, and he isn’t afraid of pushing your gummy walls with his tongue, gently caressing your insides. 

You are clenching around his tongue, the intrusion is unfamiliar to you – he makes sure he kisses your clit from time to time, holding the sensitive bud between his teeth so as to threaten you gently. He usually involves a lot more biting and would love to put some permanent marks on your thighs and soft lower tummy, but if you were scared of the drawings those dumb maids put on to you, he doesn’t want to fuel your fear any further. He could try later, making your perfect body into a canvas for his desire. 

— Patience is a grace for a princess, ja? Be patient, Meine Liebe. 

— Pl…please, stop, I don’t…

— What is it? 

— It’s too much, you shouldn’t…

— I’m not claiming you yet. God won’t be against a bit of fun, Schatzi. 

— I’m against it…

— Your moans tell another story, little princess.

He knows you don’t want to be patient – he tugs at every nerve inside your body, his tongue swings in and out, and his lips caress your soft folds, collecting any juice that might be escaping. He will have to gift you another dress after this – but he is so used to seeing you in torn clothes it becomes a thing that stirs his manhood again and again. You look perfect when you’re not perfect – by god, he is unable to control himself. 

You whine lightly as he presses a final kiss to your clit, catching your orgasm and drinking your pleasure. He is a messy eater through and through – his stubble makes you whimper from sensitivity, you sob lightly as he pushes back, a hood returning to conceal his face before your dazed eyes would be able to catch him. 

Hell, you look precious. 

Panting, with sweat beads glossy on your skin, with your lips open and moans escaping it – with your face completely turned into an expression of enormous pleasure, he doesn’t know what to do with himself as he watches you breathe heavily, chest going up and down. If he could, he would chain you to a bed in his bedroom, not ever allowing your precious figure to escape. 

He might just do this when you’re married.

You whimper under him, your eyes are still glazed with that pleasurable expression, making him smile under his hood. You may hate him all you want, but he sees the truth – knows just how perfect you are in your stubborn desire to defy him. 

— Wh…what was it? 

You are still shocked but regain some of your senses – you take on your underpants quickly, stubbornness spreading across your warm, embarrassed face. How he loves that expression. 

— I wanted to show you that our wedding night wouldn’t be as bad. 

— I would rather live without a wedding night, Your Majesty. 

— Now, was it that bad? 

You tilt your head to the side. 

— I am not here to feed your ego. 

— You’re sure it is feeding my other senses. 

He brushes his hand over your face. You allow him to – not because you wanted his touch, but because you needed some time to think, and his touch was gentle enough to ignore. Yes. That is the truth.

[sanjisboyfie]

yandere sanji headcanons

sanji x male reader :)

yandere ! sanji . . . is much, much, much smarter than others. sometimes he has a very subtle way of making all your attention be on him, in ways that you don't pick up on until it's too late. oh, you wanted to go to the island the crew recently docked at? that's fine, he had to go into town as well for new ingrediants, but suddenly you "lost" your way into the main town and are now having a cute picnic at the mountaintop. don't worry about the groceries, sanji had chopper and usopp take care of it so you can have this cute picnic! with all your favorite foods too, don't you love it?

yandere ! sanji . . . cares so, so, so much about you and your comfortability. if he has to kick innocent civilians down the street to make enough space for you, he would do it in an instant. he just wants to make sure you're comfortable enough. if he finds out something is bothering you, he very readily jumps at the oppurtunity to "save" you from your discomfort. he's your knight in shining armor and you're his prince. his entire life reputation rides on keeping you comfortably, safe, and happy.

sanji was hovering behind you, a delighted look on his face. he was carrying around a drink that you were drinking, begging for you to let him hold it, so, "your hands don't have to get tired, my love, don't worry, i'll hold it for you," as if holding a cup would make your hands fall off.

him holding it almost meant that you had to turn to him each time you wanted a sip and that meant all of your attention was on him, even if for a milisecond.

unfortunately, when you turned to take a sip from your drink and as sanji was too enamored in looking at you with nothing but adoration in his eyes, neither of you saw that you were about to hit another group of people.

they were holding a small plate of street food which splattered all over your clothes. they were about to begin apologizing profusely, but were interuppted when sanji's curses cut them off.

"hey! bastard, why don't you watch where you're going?! you've just completely ruined his shirt!" sanji defended, hands clenched at his sides as he tried to not completely floor the people in front of him, "apologize to him this instant, you scum!"

"sanji! stop, it's not even that bad," you tugged sanji backwards, the blonde absolutely melting at your touch. the tight grip you had on his wrist was almost enough to make him keel over and begin kissing at your feet as a sign of worshipping you. "please, don't mind him - it was an accident. i'm sorry for ruining your meal, would you like some beri to buy it again?"

"my love, please, don't give these men-"

"sanji, enough," that single word was enough to silence him.

the men didn't want any of your beri, opting to run away before sanji had kicked some sense into them. a single stern look from you to your lover was enough to make him apologize profusely to you, begging for forgiveness at his brash words and aggressive actions.

yandere ! sanji . . . is an absolute sucker in worshipping you. in any way he can, any way that can make you know that he loves you so, so, so very much.

"my beautiful boy, do you need anything from the kitchen? i can make your favorite?" he wants to make sure you know he is willing to drop everything for you. if you're hungry, he will immediately put his skills to work in cooking up the most delicious meal for you.

"my love, do you want me to wash your hair later tonight?" he loves carding his hands through your hair, he even massages your scalp to make sure you find the experience pleasant as well.

"[name], the light of my life, please, allow me to do this for you - i swear i will get it done as fast as possible," you just needed to wash your clothes.

yandere ! sanji . . . who condemns the idea of finding anyone else attractive but you. his shenangians that he used to do towards women are long gone. he still treats them with respect, but it's genuinely the bare minimum. all his shouts of how beautiful they were turned into cries of how handsome his prince is. the shouts of glee that erupted whenever nami praised him were turned into gruff, abrupt "thank you"s. and whenever you even breathe in his direction, he's going down on one knee and begging you to marry him - to make him your husband.

yandere ! sanji . . . has a really terrible habit of only taking things seriously if it involes you. the crew is in danger? he's going to ask if you're with the crew first and if you are - he's jumping to action. if you're not, then he kind of needs convincing. your presence has clouded his moral compass. because if you're safe and by his side...should he even care about those that aren't you? genuinely sees others that are not you as nothing but nuisances.

yandere ! sanji . . . wakes up everyday and acts as your servant. he lives and breathes everyday to please you, to make you happy. he can't imagine having any other purpose in his life, cooking perhaps comes as a close second. but in his mind, he shamelessly puts you first before every single thing.

[zoeykallus]

The batcher’s reaction to fem!reader saying “ YOU’RE NAKED?” when I’m reality, they’re just wearing their blacks.😭

Being used to seeing in their armor 99.99% of the time caught her by surprised.

😁

Sounds like fun...

The Bad Batch x Fem!Reader Shorts - Under The Armor

Pre Relationship/Fluff/Humor/Slightly Suggestive/Crosshair (Mentioned Nudity)

_______________

Hunter

He comes out of the shower, wearing fresh Blacks, but his armor is still in his bunk. Earlier you were in the cockpit, but right now you're standing at your own bunk making your bed when you notice him enter the room. Hunter's bunk is not far from yours. Your gaze lifts from your bunk to look in his direction. He looks at you in confusion, as you widen your eyes and hastily stare back at your bunk with hot ears. "You're naked," you say quietly, startled and nervous at the same time. "Huh?" Hunter hastily looks down at himself; for a second you've rattled him. He's beginning to think he forgot his Blacks' pants or didn't pull them up properly. But everything fits as it should. "I'm not," he finally says, frowning. "But as good as. I don't think I've ever seen you without the armor. The Blacks don't leave too much to the imagination, after all. Hunter looks down at himself again, clears his throat, and says, "Well, they're tight-fitting, there's a reason for that." You dare a quick glance from the side, eyeing him quickly and looking away again, feeling your cheeks grow warm. A smile spreads across his face. "Come on, I'm fully clothed, feel free to look at me". You ask teasingly, "So you want me to look at you?"

He pauses. "Uh... well, I just mean that there's no reason for you to deliberately avert your gaze." You don't really know what to say, but Crosshair more or less saves you by calling for Hunter. "Hurry up, Hunter, we have to leave soon". Hunter grabs his chest plate, slips into it, grabs his remaining armor pieces and runs. Crosshair stands at the end of the hallway waiting for him. You can't help yourself, your gaze automatically follows Hunter, eyeing his taut buttocks that are clearly visible under the Blacks. Until you realize that Crosshair is looking at you. Hastily, you avert your gaze when you see his raised brows. Then you hear it from a distance as the two men walk away together, "Hey Chief, the rookie totally checked out your ass." "She did?" asks Hunter in surprise, sounding eager. "Definitely," Crosshair replies. You nervously quickly gather your gear as your pulse races. "Damn," you grumble under your breath.

Echo

He is cleaning his equipment and has taken it off and spread it on the table when you come into the room. When Echo hears the sound of the door, he looks up and in your direction. He smiles at you, but his expression quickly turns puzzled as you make a small startled noise, averting your eyes and shielding them with the flat of your hands. "Sorry," you say as you hurry past him, "I shouldn't have just barged in like that." Echo who doesn't understand at all what's going on says, "This is a common room of our squad, you don't have to knock here" he says slowly. You sigh in annoyance and ask, "If this is a common room, why are you getting undressed in here?".

"Well, usually only my brothers are around here, no women. Besides, I'm still clothed. I've only taken off my armor," he says, explaining, still confused. You quickly grab the jacket you left here and just want to get and move back towards the door when he suddenly grabs your arm. Again you make a small startled noise. "That's just my armor I took off, I'm not naked. Besides, I thought you've seen a lot of clones in this state." You yank your arm free and your eyes meet. Your gaze bores into his, burning. His eyes widen and the look he stares at you with is suddenly that of a cornered prey animal. "What did you just imply?" you growl at him.

Echo blinks. "That there are clones running around in their Blacks all over the barracks here. You're bound to have seen one," he says, blinking uncertainly. Now you blink yourself. "Um, no, not really. I've definitely seen tracksuits and such, but not underwear." Echo laughs softly. "That's not underwear" You frown, "Oh no? You do wear that under your armor, don't you?" "Well yeah, but-" "Do you have anything else on underneath, under the Blacks?" Echo pauses. "Uh... no." You say with your ears and cheeks getting hot, "Well then it's underwear". Echo swallows and says, "Well, I guess in that sense it's underwear" "Very tight-fitting underwear" you add. Echo suddenly has some color in his face for the first time in a long time.

Wrecker

He has just taken a fresh shower and put on his blacks. But since he doesn't have to leave for the time being, he has left the armor off. Wrecker knocks on your cabin door, the boys want to order food, and he wants to ask you what you want. When you open the door and open your eyes in shock, though, he pauses. "What's wrong?" he asks, puzzled. "You're naked." Wrecker looks down at himself, startled. He's dreamed of accidentally walking around naked before, and he's unsettled for a moment. But he sees he is wearing his blacks. He laughs heartily and says, "You almost had me". You blink, averting your gaze, and say, "I don't think I've ever seen you without your armor on." He frowns. "Oh. You really feel that's nudity? Girl, I'm not naked" "But as good as" He laughs again, "Not even close, my whole body is covered except my head" With heated cheeks, you look back up into his face, trying not to stare at his muscular body in the tight Blacks. "It is, unfamiliar" "Do I look that bad?" he asks uncertainly. You smile nervously, "No, I didn't mean it like that". He grins at you. "Then maybe you can get used to it".

The words come out of your mouth before you can stop them, "I'd love to." He raises his brows in amusement. "Are you flirting with me?" You laugh nervously and say, "Not on purpose." He laughs softly, "Too bad. Maybe some other time?" You shyly clear your throat and nod, "Sure." "Alright" He says with a smirk and finally asks, "What do you want to eat? We were going to order something"

Tech

He is once again absorbed in his datapad when you come into the room. Tech has made himself more comfortable, the squad doesn't have to go out for the next two days. He wears only his Blacks, and the rest of his armor is in his bunk. He has heard your footsteps and looks up briefly to greet you, with his small, barely noticeable, shy smile. Tech actually wants to turn back to his datapad, but something about your expression makes him look up again, perplexed. You stare at him, your eyes automatically wandering along his lean, tall body. "Is something wrong?" he asks, snapping you out of your stupor. You hastily avert your gaze and mutter, "You're almost naked." Tech tilts his head slightly to the side, questioningly. "Hardly. My body is almost entirely covered with clothes, only my head is unclothed, you can't really call that naked, not even almost naked."

You don't know what to do with your hands and hug yourself nervously. "Well, it's tight-fitting clothes, without your armor. It may not be naked, but it's still pretty revealing compared to the outfit I'm used to." Tech lowers the datapad. ""Revealing? I don't think so." You shrug and say, "It's just unfamiliar, I can see your body clearly outlined under the fabric" Tech blinks. "And that repels you?" Startled, you look back up at him. "What, no! That... I meant it differently... I," the words slip out of your mouth and you fall silent. Tech looks down at himself, a little unsettled, then looks at you questioningly. "Would you rather I put on my gear or Civil clothes?" "No... I mean yes... I mean... you can wear whatever you want.... I was just surprised." Tech shows his shy smile again, then asks, "Could it be that you're nervous because you're attracted to me physically or in some other way, and you don't know how to handle it? Your mouth pops open, your eyes get big, and you get hot and cold. Did he just see right through you?

"Uh... I", you are at a loss for words and in a panic you improvise, "Oh, did you hear that, the sergeant called me". Tech looks after you with interest as you move away. Finally, he smiles again and says softly, pleased, "She likes me".

Crosshair

You jump up, startled, as he enters the room and after a brief stare, you hastily avert your eyes. He stops, looks at you and raises his eyebrows. "What's the matter with you? Scared kitten" "You are naked!" you say, as if that must be obvious to him. A few seconds of silence pass, then he says, "No I'm not, but I'd be happy to show you the difference, so this doesn't happen to you again" You stare at him, startled, as he first takes off the top of his Blacks and is already about to take off the bottom. "What are you doing?" you ask, unable to stop staring. He finally stands naked in front of you and says, "Showing you the difference." Your mouth drops open, and you don't know what to say. Crosshair stands there, naked lean, steeled. With all your strength, you try not to stare at his crotch. "See the difference now?" he asks teasingly. "Uh, yeah, definitely," you say, and swallow. "Good."

Hunter comes in and sighs in annoyance, "Crosshair, get dressed again. You already have two warnings for improper behavior in the barracks." Crosshair leisurely puts his clothes back on and says, "I just wanted to point something out?" Hunter rolls his eyes. "Don't do that, you'll get yourself in trouble. We have a woman on the team now, you need to knock it off." Crosshair smirks and says, "She could have looked the other way, but she was enjoying the sight" With heated cheeks, you hastily turn away. " You don't have to turn around now, kitten, now I'm dressed again".

Ko-Fi (If you feel like giving me some coffee)

@rintheemolion

@andyoufollowyourheart @clone-whore-99

@brynhildrmimi @kaliel2310

@misogirl828 @tech-deck

@meshla-madalene

@chxpsi

@thebahdbitch

@nahoney22 @ladykatakuri

@darkangel4121

@ttzamara

@arctrooper69

@padawancat97

@agenteliix

@allsystemsblue

@palliateclaw

@either-madness-or-brilliance

@ortizshinkaroff

@andy-solo1

@hunterssecretrecipe

@heyitsaloy

@greaser-wolf

@extrahotpixels

@hated-by-me

@hunterxcrosshair

@malicemercy

@bebopsworld

@echos-girlfriend

@cpnt616

@dangraccoon

@jediknightjana

@pb-jellybeans

@antishadow2021

@sleepycreativewriter

@starwarsnerd111

[daisyofwaterdeep]

DAISY OF WATERDEEP SAVE ME DAISY OF WATERDEEP. i donr know if commissions are open hell i dont know if you even TAKE commissions but i am BEGGIBG YOU. WITH MY WHOLE HEART AND SOUL FOR A PART TWO OF THAT CAUGHT ROLAN FIC. you get rolan better than literally everonelse PLSSS. (but for real dont feel pressured if you dont wanna write this just wanna say how amazing ur writting is 🤩)

Read part 1 here!

'Caught?' Part 2

Rolan/femcis!Reader !NSFW!

__ You're not really sure what the entire game plan is here, but you know that you have one goal in mind: to rile Rolan up.

After the events of the previous day, you know that riling him up is easy. But getting him to act-- well, that seems like it's going to be a real challenge. One that you're not sure you'll be able to pull off, but damned if it's not going to be fun to try.

You take longer than usual getting ready for work. Hair, nails, makeup-- you primp and preen yourself to perfection before shimmying into one of your favorite date-night dresses. It's modest by some standards, but the low-cut neck and cinched waist do plenty to accentuate your assets, and you're sure it won't go unnoticed by a certain wizard.

You step into Sorcerous Sundries to start your shift, your plan in motion the instant Rolan's eyes fall on you.

"Good morning!" You wave at him from his place up the stairs.

You're grateful for the glow of his eyes, because it makes it all too easy to see them drag down the length of your body from this distance.

"Morning." He returns curtly before going back to fussing with an animated armor.

You frown at the back of his head, displeased with the lack of reaction. You'll have to try a little harder, it seems.

You saunter around the counter and ascend the stairs, lifting the length of your dress to the side so you don't trip.

"What are you doing?" You ask as you approach Rolan, his hands pulsing with a dim light as they roam over the armor's breast plate.

His eyes dart over to you for a moment, and you don't miss how they flick down to your cleavage for a split second before returning to his task.

"Some minor upgrades to security."

"Ooh, like what?" You close the distance between the two of you, standing at his side as he works.

The flowing movement of Rolan's arms become jerky and stiff as you lean forward, giving him a whiff of your perfume.

"I'm j-just--" Rolan clears his throat and ends the spell wordlessly, the glow wreathing his hands dissipating. "Can I help you with something?"

"Sorry," You say innocently, taking a step back and folding your hands behind your back, "Am I distracting you?"

Rolan turns his head to address you properly, and you swear that you can physically see him fighting the urge to look at your tits. And is it just a trick of the light, or do his cheeks look a deeper red right now?

"Yes, a bit." Rolan's words are as tight as his expression.

"Sorry," you say again, "I'll just ask then....would you be willing to cast a water repellent spell on me?" You jerk your head towards the door, "I think it's getting ready to storm, and I didn't bring my umbrella..."

"It should pass by the end of your shift."

"Probably, but I have to sign off on a shipment coming in from the docks before then."

Rolan's eyebrows raise before setting into a scowl. "No. You can't go to the docks."

"What?" You blink at him, "Why not?"

"Because--" Rolan's eyes dip down to your cleavage before snapping back up, "B-because those men down there are uncouth."

"I've signed off on plenty of shipments," You insist, "You never objected then."

"Yes, well, I didn't want you to do it those other times either." Rolan is talking fast, his voice hard with annoyance. "And I definitely can't have you going down there dressed like--" He manages to stop his words, but not his eyes. They stutter down to your tits again, and it's just then that he realizes that his hands are still on the enchanted armor-- splayed out on the breast plate, like he's groping it. He jerks his hands back like it's burned him, and he hurriedly straightens up. "Just...let me do it."

"Wait wait," You wag your finger accusatorily at him, other hand on your hip, "Dressed like what, exactly?"

Rolan is obviously uncomfortable. There's no denying the deep blush on his cheeks now, and his fingers pick over the front of his robes in search of something to do.

"Nothing." He finally says, flinging a hand in the air as if to bat away the conversation. "I'll finish the upgrades after we open."

Rolan makes to walk past you, but you grab his arm.

"You can't be the one to storm away," You're not really sure what more you're expecting to get out of him, but you're not ready for your button-pushing to stop. "Not when you're the one who insulted me."

"Insult you?" Rolan scoffs and shakes his arm out of your grasp, as if that too is burning him. "It was a compliment, if anything."

You can feel your cheeks prickle at that, but you maintain your faux grumpiness. "Not by any standards that I know of."

"Take it however you want. I have things to do." Rolan begins marching down the stairs, his back to you. "Scrolls and...tomes..."

He continues mumbling his oh-so busy yet oh-so vague list of things to do until he's well out of earshot. You watch as he walks, controlled and stiff, towards the supply room.

Already? You thought it'd be nearly impossible to get him back in there, but it seems that he's easier to break than you had anticipated. It really makes you rack your brain-- Rolan has a habit of ending conversations whenever he feels like it, but just how often did those conversations lead him to the supply room? You should have paid more attention...

Either way, this is your chance to corner him. To confront him. You need to act fast.

Holding the bottom of your dress up, you descend the stairs two at a time, heart hammering and adrenaline spiking.

By the time you make it to the supply room door, you feel like a sweating wreck. Part of you wants to use it as an excuse to turn back, but you dab the sheen of sweat away with your sleeve and fan your arms in an attempt to cool down.

This is it. You got this. You can do this.

As calm as you can manage, you lean your ear against the door and listen.

"Stupid....stupid..."

There's no accompanying noises, just the sad, frustrated quiver of Rolan's voice.

It's heartbreaking, yes, but also perfect for your idea. You have no clue how well it'll work, but there's only one way to find out.

You open the door, heart in your throat as you step into the dim room. There's no windows in the storeroom, only torches that dot the wall at even intervals. It seems Rolan has forgone lighting them, instead casting a set of dancing lights that float up above, giving the room a warm, shifting glow.

"Rolan?" You call, spotting his figure a ways into the room, his body turned partially from you and his forehead against a shelf of potions.

As soon as you call out, he straightens himself and whips around, the enchanted lights nearly flickering out in his surprise.

"What?" He barks, reminding you all too much of a cornered animal lashing out.

You step into the room and close the door, buying yourself time to choose your words carefully.

"...I'm sorry." You walk towards him and stop a few feet away, just enough to clearly see his face. "I know you didn't mean anything bad with your comment." Rolan is still visibly guarded, so you add on, "I won't go to the docks, if you don't want me to."

Rolan's lips tighten and he gives you a long, silent look before turning to his side and fussing with the bottles on the shelf, clearly doing nothing of importance but trying to appear that he is.

"Forget it. I was being childish." He pretends to be heavily invested in the label of an elixir before setting it down with a clack. "Let me know when you're about to leave, I'll cast the spell on you then."

You take another step closer, "Rolan, are you upset with me?"

He scoffs, casting an incredulous look at you as he straightens a row of healing potions. "Of course not." He picks up another bottle and swirls the liquid around as his voice dips into something more conversational, though you detect the prying edge in his words, "So what's the occasion, anyways?"

You take in a deep breath, stomach tumbling as if you're in free fall as you say a single, simple word.

"You."

Rolan freezes, his glowing eyes wide as they stare sightlessly at the shelf, not daring to drag them over to you. You can't begin to imagine the thoughts that are flying through his mind right now.

A few moments pass like that, and it's clear that he doesn't plan to move or respond. He's waiting for you to continue, to inevitably add more to the conversation that will prove him wrong on what he's thinking, or maybe even to exclaim that it's a joke.

You take another deep, steadying breath. "I wanted your attention."

"....Alright." Rolan says carefully, finally turning away from the shelf to face you directly. He looks nervous, lips twitching and eyes restlessly darting. But you can tell-- it's not all just nerves. There's a layer of excitement there, too. His wandering eyes finally lock onto yours, and his voice lowers, barely audible yet still booming in your ears with the weight of it. "You have it. Now what?"

It's a clear invitation. Rolan wants you to take control of this situation-- maybe he's scared to overstep your boundaries, or maybe he's not entirely convinced that you actually want him. Judging by the things you've heard him say to himself, you suspect that it's a terrible blend of the two.

But that's fine, because you're going to show him just how much he's worthy of you.

Slowly, deliberately, you reach up and put a hand on his chest. You push him lightly, and he obediently steps backwards once, twice, then his back connects with the shelf with a clatter of clanking glass. Rolan doesn't blink-- his eyes are trained on you, almost like he's challenging, begging you to do more.

"Am I allowed to touch you?" You trace a fingertip over the intricacies of his silver shoulder piece, head tilted up to keep your eyes on his.

"Yeah," Rolan nearly groans out the word before he wets his lips and you see his adam's apple bob as he swallows, "I mean...yes."

"Where?"

"Gods," Rolan breathes, the points of his teeth shining in the dim light as he pants, "Please, don't tease me..."

"Sorry," You grin up at him, conveying the exact opposite, "You're just really cute right now...I didn't know you could be so docile."

"Docile?" He lets out a sharp exhale from his nose and you swear that his lips pucker out just the slightest, "I am not docile."

"Yeah?" You run your hands down his chest, loving the way the ridges of his ribs make your fingers jump. Rolan sucks in a breath and you can feel the muscles of his stomach tighten and quiver as your hands continue down. "Prove it."

Rolan's nostrils flare at that, the muscle in his jaw flexing as he looks you over. He wants to do something, that much is clear, but his nerves are still holding him back. So you decide to give him one last little push.

You raise up on your toes, bringing your mouths closer together, close enough that you can feel the warmth of his breath against your lips-- but only for a moment, because he holds in his next breath as your breasts press against his chest.

"Don't you want me?"

It's enough to finally break him. Rolan's hands grab your hips with a surprising, bruising strength as his head dips forward, his mouth hot and devouring against yours.

You feel naive to have thought that you were the one in control. His mouth is dominating, rolling against yours with an intoxicating mixture of passion and inexperience. You try to match his vigor but struggle to sync up with him, so instead, you submit. You let Rolan lick and suck and kiss you however he pleases, your head swimming with the hot slickness of his tongue and the rough, hungry drag of his teeth.

It's overwhelming in the best way, and it only gets better when his hands find your chest. His groping is more gentle than his kissing, but you can still feel the bite of his claws as he lifts your tits to enjoy the weight of them in his hands, kneading and pressing them together as he moans into your mouth.

Even though both of you are fighting for air when he finally pulls back, you can't help but whine and try to follow his mouth, not ready for him to stop.

"Gods, so soft, every bit of you..." His lips glisten with saliva and his eyes are burning as he squeezes your tits hard to accentuate his point, hungrily watching as the line of your cleavage swells.

"You haven't gotten to feel every bit of me," You take the opportunity to do some groping of your own, feeling along the lithe strength of his arms, then the taper of his chest to his waist "At least, not yet."

Rolan swallows roughly as your hands finally venture down his robes, feeling the taut muscles in his thighs. He spreads his legs immediately, welcoming your touch, and you can see the hard shape of his cock even through the layers of clothing.

"Poor thing," You coo sweetly, dragging your hands teasingly closer to it, "You're pent up, aren't you?"

Rolan's hands go to grip you by your upper arms as he begins panting again, each exhale holding the smallest shiver of a moan at the end. The sound is intoxicating, and it gets all the sweeter as you finally place a hand over his erection, fingers contouring to it's shape. Rolan's body reacts immediately and intensely to the light touch, trembling and bucking as he lets out a high, needy moan.

"This is what you wanted, isn't it?" You keep your eyes on him, loving the way he fights to do the same as his face twitches and his cock throbs against your hand, "You wanted me to touch you like this, right?"

"Yes, please, yes--" Rolan's voice tumbles into something nearing a cry as you press your palm down softly and begin to rub him through his robes, "Fuck, f-fuck--"

The shifting lights above flicker out just as Rolan's body curls inward in a rough jerk. In the darkness, you feel the weight of him nearly crumple to the floor before he stumbles into balance. His cock flexes against your hand in strong, desperate pulses as Rolan gasps around throaty groans, his claws digging into your arms.

"Fuck," He says again, but his voice is now wavering with embarrassment.

"Gods, Rolan..." You ease the pressure on his cock but don't remove your hand, hypnotized by the spent thumping of it against your palm, "You're so--"

"Please," Rolan cuts you off dismally, his fingers loosening their grip on you as you hear the shelf behind him rattle once more. "Spare me the niceties, I'm humiliated enough."

"Don't be." You press your body against his, once again standing on tiptoes to peck a kiss against his chin, then his neck. "I can't tell you how hot that was....wanting me so bad you couldn't control yourself." You kiss his neck once more, letting the tip of your tongue press against his skin for the briefest of moments, "I just wish I could've seen your face when you came."

Rolan's body shivers and relaxes the slightest bit as you kiss up his jaw before finding his mouth. Now that he's managed to calm down, you get to be the one to guide the kiss. It's tender, slow, the each of you relishing the feeling of the other. You could stand there all day, body pressed against him, lips together, breath entwining, but you know there's other matters that need to be attended to.

"Rolan," You pull away, pecking a kiss on the tip of his nose before finally stepping back, your hands finding his in the darkness. "It's probably time for the shop to open."

"Zurgan," Rolan hisses under his breath, "It probably is. But you-- I didn't get to--"

You know exactly what he's going to say and give his hands a squeeze. "Next time."

"Next time..." Rolan says the words with a sort of awe that makes you grin like an idiot. You hear him suck in a breath, and the hands in yours squeeze back. "Next time, certainly. I'll...take care of you. The way you deserve."

"I know you will." You raise his hand to your mouth and place a soft kiss on the back of his knuckles. "I'll open. You should probably change."

"Y-yes....thank you."

"We'll need the lights on first, though."

Rolan goes silent for a moment.

"Oh."

He gives your hands one last squeeze before releasing you, and you hear the rustle of fabric as he mutters a spell. The room lights up once more, the glowing orbs floating lazily above your heads.

Rolan looks at you, head turned down slightly and bottom lip trapped between his teeth. It looks like he has something to say, so you wait patiently, smiling at him to help ease his worries.

"I'm..." Rolan starts, stops, shakes his head, then starts again. "I've thought about you...I mean, I've wanted..." Rolan exhales sharply from his nose and shakes his head again before giving a shy smile. "I'm just very happy right now."

You can't help yourself. With a big, goofy grin, you raise up on your toes and kiss him again.

"Me too."

[bruhstation]

Can you elaborate more on Spencer wanting to make Henry dependent on him?

Would he do the same to Edward ? Like in the episode Edward the great?

Spencer trying to manipulate Gordon's friends?

spencer has some kind of weird toxic gay crush on henry. he's always liked men who are (in his opinion) in distress because they open an opportunity for spencer to swoop in and save them and feed his ego. henry's personality in spencer's head has been altered and dumbed down so severely to match his fantasies where spencer is henry's knight in shining armor who protects and takes care of him while henry is the damsel in distress who's waiting for big, strong spencer to take him away. this guy is a grade A freakster. henry just ignores spencer like he's scraps on a dinner plate and silently prays for his downfall.

after the events of the beast from sodor, spencer gained a microscopic smidge of respect towards henry. it's frankly embarrassing for him because henry's the one protecting spencer instead of the other way around like he envisioned. it doesn't stop him from annoying henry whenever he gets the chance. once, spencer left a note inside nwr 3's cab "call me if gordon's bothering you xxx-xxx-xxx <3 -S.S.G." and henry had to resist the urge to jump and dive head first onto the rocky road after finding it

speaking of gordon, spencer knows that if he DID manage to pull henry, gordon's gonna be extremely pissed off because 1) gordon is his cousin 2) gordon has been fumbling henry for around one and half a decade through gold dust-fueled mind-twisting situations yet they never ended up together and 3) spencer’s gonna have another insensitive stand up comedy material besides "dead siblings" and "dead father" which just excites spencer even more

edward isn't really spencer's type (wise, can stand his ground, etc) and he knows the older man can see right through him, so he's not interested in chasing after him. also henry will NEVER EVER return spencer's feelings mainly because he's just so annoying instead of the fact that spencer has ulterior motives for him and spencer will always remain having a one-sided crush/twisted infatuation/etc for henry

[separatist-apologist]

Burning Red

Summary: When Arina is brought with her father to Velaris, she sees an opportunity to escape the marriage she's desperate to avoid. She wants a smaller life- a simpler life.

One that doesn't involve a dragon.

For @erisweekofficial

Part Five of the Dragons Series | Chapter 1 | Read on AO3 | Wonderland | A Mythical Thing | A Fragile Little Flame | Amber Skies

-

Running away should have been simple. Vanish into the woods, change her name, find a job and a cottage and settle down far, far away from this place. It had never involved a dragon trailing after her, fighting off a hoard of wolves and then passing out in a mountain valley far from where they’d started.

Arina hovered over his large, orange scaled form and wondered what she was supposed to do. Did she leave him? She could have—it seemed like the only logical solution. It was night…and he’d saved her life. Arina felt a strange, yawning pull that urged her to stay.

Her indecision cost her. A furious roaring shook the valley, causing Eris to thrash his tail for a moment, as if he knew there was another dragon nearby and he needed to do something, but his injuries were too much. 

Arina didn’t move, frozen with fear as a great, golden creature sailed overhead, trumpeting its rage at the intrusion. The thing landed a few yards away with enough force to shake the ground beneath them. She tumbled backward, falling against warm scales before she righted herself. The armored plating was sharp—she cut her palm in the process.

Tears pricked against the corners of her eyes, though Arina stood her ground as the beast came toward her.

“Lucien!” A woman’s voice sliced through the night, stopping the creature in its tracks. Arina could have wept, knees shaking, at the sight of a beautiful brunette stomping down the hill, hands on her aproned hips. 

A moment later, a very naked man stood in place of the monster, gesturing between Arina and Eris and himself. “They encroach!”

“Are you here to kill me?” the woman asked, an amused note in her voice as she quickly untied her apron. She shoved it against him, barefoot in the sparkling grass. Arina didn’t know where to look—she didn’t want to see this naked man, even as he tied the pink and white lace apron around his body with a deep frown, the half-dead dragon behind her, or the woman herself the aforementioned man seemed to be guarding. 

“No?” Arina asked, as the man huffed out a see?! “We didn’t mean to land in this place.”

“See,” the woman murmured, touching the man’s arm gently. “No one is here to harm me.”

“Could you not scent our presence?” the dragon, named Lucien, demanded.

Arina turned to the woman, who only shrugged her shoulders in response. “Of course I can’t!”

Her words were half hysterical. She felt hysterical, truthfully. Unlike Lucien, who very obviously wanted her to rouse Eris and leave, the woman came forward with sympathy etched across her features.

“Are you well?” she murmured, brown eyes radiating warmth.

“I was trying to get away from overbearing men,” Arina whispered, voice trembling as she swallowed her tears. “And I’m back where I started, but with these…these…creatures—”

Lucien snorted softly, parading past them to look at Eris. 

“Come inside—”

“Inside?” Lucien scoffed, clearly riddled with disbelief. “Where we live?”

“Yes, Lucien,” she replied with saintly patience. “A little hospitality won’t hurt us.”

“He might—”

“I don’t think he’s interested in me,” she said with an easy smile, clearly amused. Arina wasn’t, though. The whole thing seemed like a strange hostage situation. Still, Arina had no choice but to follow the woman—who quickly let her know that her name was Elain—up the hill to the house. She didn’t know what prompted her to tell Lucien, the dragon-man, not to hurt Eris. Eris was her only ally at the moment, even if he was incapacitated, and she’d take him over the strangers living in the valley.

At least Eris had demonstrated he didn’t want her to die. Lucien couldn’t boast the same. Arina didn’t believe for a second he wouldn’t kill her if he thought he needed to, nor did she think this woman would be particularly upset with him should it happen.

Elain hummed to herself as they trekked up the hillside, clearly unconcerned about the rising tension. Did she feel it, or did simply not care? Arina was forced to conclude it was the latter, and that in some way, this was a usual occurrence for her. 

Inside, Elain found someone's home. Childrens toys lay scattered across a brightly colored rug, causing Arina to trip when she stumbled over a painted yellow, wooden duck. 

“Careful,” Elain said cheerfully, making her way into a small kitchen. A loaf of bread sat on a floral tea towel, steam rising from the crusty top. The windowsill was pushed open, revealing a pretty latticed pie cooling on the ledge. There were flowers on a little, rounded table and more plants in large, painted pots in the living room beyond. It was cozy.

Lived in.

“You have children?” Arina gaped, setting the wooden toy on the nearby table as Elain began to busy herself with food.

Her smile was soft. “One. Another on the way.”

“With…with him?” Arina demanded, because surely not. Even with the golden band wrapped around Elain’s throat, effectively marking her, Arina simply could not believe this was her chosen, simple life. He’d kidnapped her, if Arina had to guess. Forced himself on her, and she’d merely learned to make the best of a difficult situation.

“Who else?” Elain replied, her gaze sharpening ever so slightly. It didn’t help that she held a long knife in her hand that Arina didn’t doubt she’d use. 

“When did you meet him?” Elain asked with more curiosity than was perhaps polite.

“This morning?” Arina replied. The day felt like several years had passed, and somehow she felt as if she’d known Eris far longer than she had. “I was trying to get away from men.”

Elain’s smile was soft. Knowing. “Funny, how it works out.”

“Is it funny?” Arina demanded, whirling so quickly that Elain’s knife clattered to the floor between them. “To trade one life shackled to a cruel master for another?”

“Is that what he’s promised you?” Elain asked, not taking the bait. Arina wanted a fight so badly that she’d pick it with a near stranger if she could. 

“He didn’t make me any promises,” Arina admitted.

“What happened to him?”

Arina explained as Lucien returned, still wearing the floral apron that didn’t hide his backside at all. Without staring as he meandered his way through the home, picking up items on the floor while generally keeping watch. It felt very much like a polite warning—she was allowed because Elain willed it, but should she change her mind, he would be the one to enforce it.

“He smells…familiar,” Lucien told Elain once Arina concluded her story. He’d taken up residence in a chair at the table, which had caused Elain to make a second plate of food. She set it before him only for Lucien to shove it toward her while Arina picked at grilled chicken smothered in a garlic sauce. 

“Familiar how?” Elain questioned, cocking her head so curls spilled down her shoulder. Elain hadn’t realized she was pregnant until she tried to sit, smoothing her dress over a small, rounded stomach that had just begun to take shape. 

“Like my mother,” he finally said, exchanging a significant look between himself and his…wife? Kidnapped bride? None of that meant anything to Arina.

“Is he going to die?”

Lucien exhaled loudly. “No. It would be difficult to kill him. He’s simply injured.”

“Then we’ll leave as soon as he’s well,” Arina declared, suddenly wary of these two. Like my mother. Arina didn’t want to get caught up in a family affair. She intended to get Eris and herself away from these people before politely asking him to drop her off somewhere safe and go about his life without her. 

The look exchanged between dragon and woman didn’t give Arina any confidence they’d allow it. She needed to be on guard and careful. Arina ate despite her nervous stomach, making polite small talk before accepting blankets for the couch in the living room.

She waited until the candles were extinguished and the sound of footsteps on the creaking wood overhead had silenced before she grabbed two of the nicer blankets and slipped out. She didn’t trust either Elain or Lucien to let them go or not to immediately send her back.

Strange, though, that she trusted Eris. 

He still laid on the sandy beach of the lake, tail curled around his body as little tendrils of smoke escaped his nose with each breath. Arina pressed her palm against the soft snout, relieved when one gold eye peeked open.

He huffed in response, stretching his injured wing in an attempt to shield her from the cold. Arina held up the blankets as both his eyes opened, round and wide with surprise.

“This belongs to another dragon and his kidnapped…wife?” she whispered urgently, noting Eris’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. “They say you smell familiar but I don’t trust them. I think we need to leave.”

The exhaustion on his face told her he didn’t want to. He huffed again before shifting, bones creaking from the effort. Where once a massive creature had lain, now a very naked man replaced it, curled in the dirt.

Arina dropped a blanket over his body. She didn’t want to see what he looked like naked, afraid some part of her might like it.

“We?” he questioned. 

“You can stay if you want,” she replied, stomach clenching at the thought. “But I’m leaving before they wake up.”

Eris forced himself to his feet, blanket falling gracefully to the ground. His body was a mass of toned muscle and broad shoulders, ribboned in glittering orange scales that gleamed in the waning moonlight. Arina tried—and failed—not to look any lower. He wasn’t erect, at least, but the largeness of him alarmed her.

Her eyes flew back to his face. The creature was too exhausted to have any smugness to him, holding out his hand for the other blanket draped over her arm. She thought he wanted it, but Eris merely staggered forward to bunch it over her shoulders.

“We’ll fly until I can’t,” he said, voice close to a whisper. “And then we sleep.”

“Fine.”

Once he was well, she’d leave him. Gripping her chin beneath cool fingers, Eris forced her to look at him. He didn’t say a word, amber eyes searching her own as if looking for something he’d missed. Arina pulled from his grasp, frustrated he was touching her. 

Eris exhaled. Had he found what he was looking for? She hoped not. The last thing she needed was a duel between the fiance she’d escaped and the dragon now re-standing before her. Eris bowed his neck, allowing her to clamber up the smooth scales. There was little for purchase, though once he righted himself, she realized she wasn’t really in danger of falling.

He took to the skies, glancing her way only once. No one came to chase them.

They were safe.

ERIS:

He wanted to die.

Every inch of his body screamed for rest, begging him to land on the ground where he could close his eyes and allow his dragons blood to heal the wounds rapidly reopening with each flap of his wings. His mate wanted to leave, believing they were in danger of another dragon. Eris wouldn’t have told her no, but the thought of another male sniffing around make him anxious.

He was injured—it would be easy for another dragon to lay claim to her and snatch her up before he could do a thing about it. 

So he flew through the night, gritting his teeth until blood flooded his mouth, looking for anywhere he could safely set her down. Somewhere she couldn’t escape, though he knew that was wrong, too. He had no right to hold her hostage and force her to accept him.

But she didn’t know him, either, and was convinced he was a creature he wasn’t. When he fell into a healing slumber, he didn’t want her to run off and be recaptured. Or worse, harmed, because she wouldn’t listen to sense of reason.

The problem was how few places there were to truly go. Behind him lay Velaris and the vast kingdom belonging to Rhys. To the east, Windhaven and the home of the eastern Dragons which lay in the hands of Cassian. If Rhys demanded Cassian hand Arina over, Cassian would do it. 

His own territory was further to the west, over a vast ocean Eris wasn’t convinced he could cross without dying. 

Eris was going to try. To have her safe in his own territory, assured that the only person who could order her back was him, was enough to keep him going even when his mouth dried out and his muscles began to fail him. He kept her scared face forefront in his mind, calling it up ever time he dipped over the glittering water. He didn’t know if she could swim. 

There were other dragons.

She was beautiful.

Eris spied the trees before he saw the shoreline. Despite being so west, his territory was temperate, the weather mild all year round. He knew the water would be unpleasant should they be close, the wind practically unbearable by then. He had an estate up in the forested mountains, miles from his palace. If he could get close, she’d make her way to the home by virtue of needing shelter. There was no one within, no servants stationed when his presence wasn’t required.

And on every side, she’d be surrounded by dense woods, in a place she wasn’t familiar with. He was a bastard—thats what his father used to say before he vanished. 

They say you smell familiar.

Eris banished the thought. If his father had sired others, well…that wasn’t his business. Not anymore. As a youngling, freshly made a king before he had hair on his face, Eris had gone looking. Had scoured the lands trying to find out where his father had taken their mother. His father was older, cleverer. And then, of course, the waves of humans had descended, destroying the females and children with such ferocity that Eris could think of nothing else. Unlike so many other territories, he’d managed to stave off the worst of the violence, losing more males than anything else. 

Someone had warned the humans where dragons were vulnerable. Eris had long wondered if it hadn’t been his father. He was too ashamed to give voice to those fears, worried that if any of the remaining monarchs investigated, they’d find him at fault given Beron, wherever he was, clearly had perished.

Still, the question nagged at the back of his mind even as he began to lull to the side, unable to keep himself steady. They were close enough, he reasoned. A ten minute walk if she didn’t linger and moved in a straight line through the thinning trees. He wanted to warn her where to go, alongside the dangers of the forest should she venture too far, but he couldn’t speak in this form. 

Eris tumbled to the ground gracelessly, dragging fallen leaves up like clouds of dust. Arina screamed, the sound arousing the baser instincts that demanded he protect his mate. One wing flung out in a misguided attempt to protect her from the danger, though he was the danger. Still, she was uninjured when he slowed, though clearly just as exhausted.

“Where have you taken us?” she breathed, smoothing out her rumpled, dirty skirt. Eris wanted to tell her. He simply could not bring himself to do so. Every inch of him hurt, wounded and injured from keeping her alive.

Don’t leave me, he wanted to say. Everyone does. 

She was already walking away as he thought it, and the last thing he saw before the darkness reclaimed him, was her retreating back in the forest. 

Leaving him.

As everyone always did. 

—

Arina didn’t know what to do for a dying monster. Panic had settled into her bone, especially as the air took on a distinct dusky chill. Did she traverse the forest looking for help? Was there even help? She’d been so sure he knew where he was going until his body lurched, landing them in a sloping mountain covered in dense, brightly colored treetops. 

It excited her and it frightened her. She knew, by virtue of crossing a dark sea, that she was so far from her fathers reach that he may never find her. And still she warred with herself, until Arina decided that she would stay, at least until he died.

She didn’t know how to tell what a dragon needed. As night approached, Arina merely curled close to his body, delighted that, even as he died, he radiated an incredible amont of heat. She still had the blankets they’d taken from Lucien and Elain. She placed one around her body, creating a little bag that kept her body off the leaves while still covered, and the other around his neck. Did dragons get cold?

Arina wasn’t sure. 

It should have been terrifying. For a few moments, when pure darkness settled around them and the noises of the nightlife began to echo, she had been nervous. But she learned, quickly, that nothing dared to get too close to the predator napping in the woods. She’d always wondered what freedom might feel like.

Arina’s home had been warmer than this place, sandier and hillier with few trees to truly speak of. She’d been enarmored with nature as a child, the great tragedy of her lifetime given that she was not allowed beyond the high palace walls without an escort.

She wasn’t allowed within the grounds without an escort, either. There was no napping in the shade or running barefoot through the grass. She was forced to stroll in heavy gowns that caused sweat to slide down her spine while making idle chatter with the ladies who weren’t quite her friends. 

Arina had tried, of course. She’d snuck around until the secret passageways had been boarded up. She’s slipped her chaperones, which only caused more guards to be posted. And eventually, she simply gave up. At every turn, her father was determined to keep her indoors.

Not anymore, she realized as she lay on her back, a massive dragon curled around her. She pressed her fingers against his soft underbelly, wondering when his steady breathing might stutter and then eventually stop.

It was strange, but she’d miss him. 

Arina fell asleep to the soft rustling of animals running underfoot and the feel of cool wind caressing her cheek. Her dreams were sweet, for once, filled with images of those jewel colored treetops and a life running between the sturdy trunks. Maybe it was the lack of sleep, or merely just feeling safe for the first time in living memory.

Or maybe, deep down, she knew Eris wasn’t going to die. Arina woke, sweaty and well rested despite the unforgiving ground beneath her. A heavy wing had draped itself over her, shielding her from a light rain drizzling overhead. She sighed, causing the wing to lift just a little so a familiar amber eye could blink in, obviously curious.

Arina pressed her fingers to Eris’s belly. “Are you okay?” she asked him, well aware he couldn’t answer her in his current form. Still, she pressed against the soft, unplated flesh, earning a woosh of warm air from his nostrils. 

“I’m jealous of that,” she admitted, noting what had once been tender and swollen now seemed wholly healed. He lifted his head, bones snapping before he was the man again.

A very, very naked man.

The water he’d been shielding her from began to slide down her cheek, dampening her hair as she rose gingerly to her feet, trying—and failing once again—not to look between his legs.

“Why are you here?” he asked warily.

“I thought—” she felt strangely stupid all of the sudden.

She tried to keep her eyes on the ground, but his fingers found her chin, lifting her face so she had to look up at him. 

“You thought…?”

“I thought you were dying,” she admitted, wrenching out of his grasp. “I didn’t want you to die alone.”

A strange expression flitted over his handsome face, bringing with it a wash of color. Defensive, Arina decided she didn’t need to say anything else. It was on the tip of her tongue to say something cruel—to demand he not hurt her—but she knew he wouldn’t. If he’d wanted to, he would have by then.

It was clear he was still injured—his skin revealed the healing gashes and bruises that no longer seemed so lethal, though she imagined were still painful. He winced, offering her a hand she didn’t take. He was still naked, after all, and she’d spent her whole life being told to stay away from naked men.

“It’s difficult to kill my kind,” Eris informed her, taking a careful step through the soggy underbrush. 

“Unless they’re female?” she heard herself ask. There was no malice to her words—just curiosity. Why had they done it? 

Eris’s gaze sharpened, nearly ablaze as he turned to look at her. “It was not my kind that slaughtered each other. It was humans, emboldened with knowledge they shouldn’t have, that descended upon us. Who stole sleeping young from their beds and killed their weeping, pleading mothers with impunity.”

“That’s—”

“Its not my kind that forces females into marriages they don’t want…or strikes them across the face when they’re displeased.”

“I don’t think you have the moral high ground. You kidnapped—”

“Kidnapped?” he scoffed, turning abruptly to face her. “You ran straight into wolf infested woods. I rescued you.”

Arina felt foolish, fingers twisting in front of her body to keep herself from breaking down. “This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.” Some of his anger seemed to soften. “How did you imagine it?” he asked curiously. 

Arina shrugged, blinking away the urge to cry. They resumed walking, the trees thinning as they went. That was unfortunate, as the leafy tops overhead kept the worst of the rain from falling on them. By the time the reached the stone laid path leading toward a rather lovely estate, Arina was soaked to the bone. 

“I thought you’d make your way here,” Eris informed her, careful to keep his distance.

Arina opened her mouth to inform him she wasn’t so awful she’d abandon him to die, but shut it before she said a word. Why tell him that? “What is this place?”

“One of my homes,” he informed her, pushing open the wooden doors to let her in. Magnolias lined the path they’d walked along, dotted orange, yellow, and white beneath the gray sky. 

“How many do you have?”

“Three.”

Three? Arina wiped her muddy feet on a mat, dragging puddles of water onto the gleaming wood. The entry way smelled of cedar and woodsmoke and when Eris snapped his fingers, the sconces on the wall ignited with a cheerful intensity. “I thought you were just Eris?”

“I am—to you,” he replied, brushing his knuckles over the back of her arm. 

“You didn’t even know me when you said it,” she reminded him, bristling a little. It was all but an arranged marriage, just with different terms. 

He shrugged. “I wanted to know you. Pick a room,” he added, leading her down the halls. 

“Any room?” she replied.

He nodded, leaving Arina standing alone as he made his way down a separate corridor. She watched him go, eyes trailing down the muscular contours of his back. She was strangely entranced by the shifting muscles beneath his skin. Life would be so much easier if she wasn’t attracted to him, she thought ruefully. 

With Eris fully gone, and Arina safe from the elements, she decided to take him up on his offer. The estate was rather large, though not so big it was possible to get truly lost. She found herself turned around once or twice, walking through the same dining room on three separate occasions.

She found a rather lovely library, smaller than the one in Velaris, though larger than the one that had been housed in her own home. 

Huge, glass windows smeared with rain droplets created a rather moody atmosphere she found rather charming. Arina did settle on a room, mainly because the room, once made of wood and marble, became glass where the bed lay, allowing the person sleeping to stare upward at the sky and outward toward the forest, if they wanted.

It smelled like that same woodsmoke, mingled with cinamon, and something about those two together made her feel safe. Arina pressed her face into the soft, cream colored pillow before flopping on the bed. It was as if she’d summoned him. Eris appeared in the doorway, eyes slightly narrowed.

“This room,” she said, spreading her arms out wide while he leaned against the door. He had pants on, though unlaced and loose on his sculpted hips. 

“Oh?”

It also happened to be the largest in the estate. Arina had considered the implications of it until Eris closed the door with his foot, smug smile on his stupid, handsome face. “You want my bedroom?”

Arina sat up, but it was too late. He was making his way in, arms still crossed over his chest.

“Pick a different room,” she demanded.

“I don’t think I will,” he informed her, eyes sliding toward the rainy glass. 

“How long are you going to let this go on for?” she demanded, sitting up, arms crossed over her chest.

He shrugged. “Ask to go back.”

Arina pressed her lips together. She wasn’t going to do that.

“Ask to leave me.” She opened her mouth that time, but nothing came out. A soft tugging kept her from saying it. Why? When it was a lie? Eris waited, his expression so very carefully neutral.

“That’s when,” he murmured.

Arina looked down at her lap. “You’d let me go if I asked?”

“You’re not my prisoner,” was his soft, almost sad reply. “If you decide to leave me, you’re free to go.”

Arina didn’t move, even as the possibilities raced through her mind. He didn’t say it, but she suspected if she asked him to take her somewhere else, he’d do so. And he’d leave, though she was willing to bet he’d keep watch on her somehow. Just in case. 

“I like it here,” she declared. “And you can stay…but you can’t touch me. And you have to wear pants.”

He scowled. “Anything else?”

She considered it for a second. “You have to answer every question I have honestly.”

“Deal,” he agreed, his annoyance clearly reserved only for the pants. That would help, she thought, if she wasn’t constantly fighting the urge to look at him unclothed. He didn’t need to know that. 

Arina offered him a smile. As long as he upheld his end of things, she’d stay.

And she’d worry about everything else later.

[astrology-bf]

FFXIV Write 2024 | Day 6 "Halcyon"

Master Post | My AO3 | Challenge Info

~ 3k words | Mature | Gen | CW: Semi-Graphic Violence, Death, Heavy Angst, Mild Stormblood Spoilers

(Set after the Scions are called to the First, but before the showdown with Elidibus)

The gunblade shook in Marius’ hand as he did his best to keep his knees from giving out from under him, his nerve rattled by pain from the arrow wound on his left side… but more so the sight before him and his squadmates.

That the eikon-slayer appeared to be a simple man was beyond terrifying.

“Forward!” The centurion’s command cracked through the tension like a whip.

Marius hesitated; as did the other men. One even dared to verbalize his hesitation. 

“But-”  

The remainder of the protest went unvoiced as the centurion looked sharply at the culprit; that was enough of a reminder of the penalty for disobedience. 

“That is an order.” he stated, with firm finality. 

“You should probably listen to them.” The eikon-slayer’s voice was clear, but slightly husky at the edges with quiet weariness. He had his eyes fixed on the centurion, but hadn’t moved an ilm since they’d caught sight of him.

The centurion tightened his grip on his own weapon. He hesitated for a moment, then brandished it towards the enemy.

“You are outnumbered, savage,” he said. “Give up.”

The eikon-slayer raised his staff, holding it vertically with the end a mere fulm from the ash-stained earth. 

“Last warning.”  he said.

Again, there was a beat of hesitation. Then, with an audible intake of breath beneath his helmet, the centurion raised his gunblade. 

Marius took a step back.

“For Garlemald!” 

The cry was met with wordless shouts as all the men save Marius advanced; weapons raised, putting all thoughts of fearful tales aside as they began their charge to what they tried to convince themselves was a lone man. Easy enough prey.

A quiet breath left the eikon-slayer’s lips, and Marius’ blood turned cold as he saw the Hyur’s expression take on a serenity which was more frightening than anger.

His staff came down, the end striking the earth with a light crack.

There was a flash of pale-blue aether, and all heat was evacuated from the air within an instant: a snap of cold which caused the metal plates of the Garleans’ armor to start warping, buckling, digging into flesh or popping off and leaving it defenseless… not that it mattered, given that the flesh was now more ice than meat. 

After a few moments, the aether faded. Marius stood frozen as he gazed in horror at the frozen statues which had once been fellow soldiers. The corpse of the centurion keeled over, and shattered when it struck the ground. 

The eikon-slayer watched it fall, and then his eyes flicked up to Marius.

There was a clatter as the gunblade fell from Marius’ hand. His knees gave way, and he gasped at the stab of pain in his left side from the sharp motion. Through trembling, he raised his hands in a gesture of surrender.

“...Please…” he begged.

The eikon-slayer’s chin rose up as he eyed Marius carefully. He said nothing, and the serene expression on his face had faded into bitter weariness. His staff lowered, and he began walking towards the kneeling soldier - weaving around the frozen statues of his former squadmates, so he didn’t disturb them. 

Marius’ shaking grew more violent as the eikon-slayer neared him, and his breathing came in panicked gasps.

“Please…” he said. His mind was screaming at him to pick up his weapon, or at least try to run, but pain and fear held him locked tight. “Forgive me, please… Please don’t kill me…” 

A quiet sob escaped him as the eikon-slayer came to a halt merely a yalm away. He stared at him, still and silent, his staff in hand even if pointed away from him. 

Marius closed his eyes, and thought of his family. He had no gods to pray to, after all.

“You’re injured.” 

Marius froze. His eyes opened, and he looked up to see the eikon-slayer was looking at his left side, where the hauberk had been punctured and the hasty patch applied, given they lacked a Medicus. 

“...What?” he asked. His voice was nearly a whisper, and all fear had turned to sheer confusion.

The eikon-slayer gestured at his injury. “What happened to you?” he asked.

The Garlean soldier swallowed, blinking furiously. “...An arrow.” he answered, instinctively.

His enemy gave a slow nod. “Do you want me to take a look at it?” He gestured at his injury again, keeping his staff lowered and pointed away from Marius.

Again, Marius blinked. He shook his head. “I don’t understand.” 

“I can heal it for you, if you’d like.”

A breath left the Garlean soldier’s lips under his helmet, and his eyes went to the frozen corpses of his former comrades; people he all knew by name, and now were dead by the hand of the same man offering healing. “...You’re insane.”  

“Aye. Probably.” The eikon-slayer said, nodding in agreement. 

Marius began to shake again.

His enemy then gave a shrug. “Offer’s open, but if not you can head back. Not going to kill an unarmed man.” he said, gesturing and causing his own weapon to vanish as a show of faith. 

The only sound that passed between them for a long few moments was Marius’ labored breathing, set against the backdrop of distant artillery and thunder; an endless drumbeat of a march to war upon the Ghimlyt Dark.

Marius swallowed again. His shaking started easing, and as his terror faded the discomfort of the injury made itself known again.

“Would it hurt?” he asked, hesitantly.

The eikon-slayer shook his head. “No,” he answered. “Might be a bit uncomfortable at first, but I’ve been told I’ve got a gentle hand.” Then he paused, looking off to the side and giving a bitter sigh. “For healing, at least.” he added, mournfully.

Another silence lingered in the air before Marius gave a slow nod of agreement. “...All right.” 

His enemy moved forward and knelt down next to him, the red-accented white of his short jacket standing out amidst the ash, dirt, and blackened plating of dead soldiers and wrecked magitek. He was careful not to move too suddenly, but even then the poor Garlean couldn’t help but flinch as his enemy began healing him.

True to his word, there was no pain: more of a hot pressure that soon faded like a burn run under water. The tightness where the skin was punctured loosened as the magick knit the tissues back together, keeping them cleansed of any infection. 

Marius had been healed by magic before, but admitted that the eikon-slayer had a gentle hand. He even started humming, quietly, stirring thoughts of home in Garlemald when Marius was laid up with a childhood cold and being attended to.

It was strangely soothing, considering the circumstances.

“What’s your name?” The eikon-slayer asked. His eyes had remained fixed on Marius’ injury since he’d begun.

“...Marius.”

“Nice to meet you, Marius. I’m Ifan.” The eikon-slayer - Ifan, rather - glanced up at Marius’ eyepieces and gave a small nod.

Marius swallowed, brown eyes peering at Ifan’s blue from underneath his helm. “The eikon-slayer.” he said, out of pure instinct. 

Ifan snorted. “Just ‘Ifan’ is fine.” He shook his head, and went on healing.

The Garlean bit his lower lip and looked away. His fingers still trembled where his hands sat idly. 

“You are not like the tales.” he said, at length.

“What do the tales say about me?” Ifan asked, with a note of mirthless amusement.

Marius’ breath caught in his throat, and his chin lowered. “I would not wish to anger you.”

“Odd thing to say, coming from a soldier trying to conquer my homeland.” Ifan said, after humming inscrutably. His tone was strange; more like a performance of being teasing, going through the motions with no substance in it. After a brief pause, Ifan glanced up at Marius again. 

“You know what they say about Garleans?” he asked.

Marius shook his head slowly.

Ifan paused as if in hesitation, or perhaps putting more focus into the healing. “They say that you can’t use magic because you don’t have souls,” he began. “That you’re not human, just beasts which look and speak like us. Worse than Amalj’aa, or Sahagin, because at least they don’t try to lure you in by looking like you.” 

The Garlean’s brown knitted and his lips parted beneath his helmet, but he blinked in shock as Ifan gave a derisive snort.

“Fuckarse rubbish,” Ifan swore. “Who comes up with shite like that, anyway?” He shook his head, and went on healing.

Marius let out a small scoff, not sure why he found the notion of the eikon-slayer having a foul mouth somewhat amusing. “You do not believe it?” he asked, peering at Ifan.

Ifan shook his head. “Even if I didn’t have Garlean friends, I was raised to see the value in difference and diversity. My mentor was Dalmascan.” he explained.

“Truly?”  

“Aye,” Ifan said, nodding again. “He loved his country just as much as you probably love yours, and he did his best to share that love with me. Tried to keep what Dalmasca stood for alive, through me… a dream of harmony.” 

He started frowning, then, as his gaze slid off towards the side. He took in the sight of the battlefield where the pair knelt, listened to the distant din of endless fighting, and tried to remember what the sun looked like.

Ifan clicked his teeth, shook his head, and went on healing.

“Your turn, Marius,” he said. “What do they say about me in Garlemald?”

Marius wetted his lips, and looked off to the side to avoid Ifan’s gaze; even the helmet seemed no real cover from those dark blue eyes. 

“Some say that you’re an eikon.” Marius answered.

Ifan blinked, seeming surprised. “Oh? Of which god?” he asked.

“Your death deity.” Marius said.

“Nald’thal, hm?” The eikon-slayer let out a whistle, then nodded with an impressed pursing of his lips. “High praise, if a bit blasphemous. Summoned by the Sultanate, no doubt?”

Marius returned a nod.

Ifan took in a breath, glancing up thoughtfully, then looked back at the Garlean soldier’s helmet for a moment. “Why him, specifically?” he asked.

Marius sucked on his tongue. The pain in his left side was fully gone, so it was easier to think; Ifan hadn’t made a move to harm him, so he was owed some candor at the very least. “They say you raise the dead to eat the living, and burn your enemies alive in hellsfire. Some even, uh…” He swallowed, tone growing reluctant.

“Hm?” Ifan coaxed. “Go on.”

“...Some frighten their children with you.” Marius answered, at length. “‘Behave yourself, or Kaleid the Black will come devour you in the night’. That manner of thing.”

The healing stopped. Ifan’s lips parted, then his gaze lowered as his face took on an expression which was nothing short of miserable.

Marius could swear the eikon-slayer looked like he was about to cry. 

“...That so?” Ifan said, after a long and sad silence. The magic resumed, and Ifan’s expression hardened. 

“Suppose I earned it,” he remarked. “It’s true enough.” 

“...What?”

Ifan gave Marius no answer, at least not until he finished healing him. The magic faded for a final time, and the Garlean would have marveled at the way he felt near good-as-new were he not slipping back into a state of fear.

“You’ve heard the name Rhitahtyn sas Arvina before, no doubt.” Ifan asked, standing upright. He offered Marius his hand, keeping it out until he finally worked up the courage to accept it. 

The Garlean grunted lightly as he pulled himself up to his feet, as did Ifan. The difference in their height was stark; Marius was pureblooded, and Ifan below average for a Midlander. “Of course. Who hasn’t? You slew him, at-”

“Cape Westwind.” Ifan supplied. He stared up at Marius’ helmet, hands kept at his side and his expression grim. “I was angry. It was ripping me apart inside. So I took it out on him, and anyone who tried to get in the way.”

Marius swallowed. Though afraid, his curiosity proved itself stronger. “What did you do?” he asked.

“You don’t want to know.” Ifan answered, quietly.

Marius’ lips twitched at the warning, but he still insisted. “Tell me.” 

The eikon-slayer stared up at him intently, giving him near a full minute to renege. When Marius didn’t, Ifan took in a breath and answered in a quiet, and guilty tone.

“When his men tried to interfere, I raised their dead comrades as ashkin and set them loose,” Ifan said. “Then I held back with Rhitahtyn when I set off that flare inside his armor, so it didn’t kill him right away. He suffered.” Despite his words, the eikon-slayer’s face was completely impassive.

Marius stared back at him, lips parted and his eyebrows fallen at the ends. He hadn’t any answer.

Ifan didn’t let the ugly silence linger, however, and glanced off to the side again. 

“Why are you here, Marius?” he asked.

“...For Garlemald.” Marius answered, hesitantly and at length.

The eikon-slayer looked back at his helm again, as if able to peer behind the metal at his eyes. “And what is Garlemald, to you?”

Marius went quiet for a moment as he gave Ifan’s question thought. “It’s my home. Our home. A place we earned, against all odds.” He swallowed, voice gaining confidence at the reminder. “We owe her everything. This is her command.” he said, and finished with a nod.

Ifan’s face twisted disgustedly. “This?” he asked, gesturing around. Then he paused, closed his eyes, and scoffed humorlessly. “...Not that I’m any better. The Alliance tells me who to kill, and I do it. For Eorzea.” he said, nodding at Marius.

Marius blinked. “You do not wish to be here?” he asked.

Ifan looked at Marius as if he was joking. “No.” he said, tone growing aggrieved, “I want to be with my friends, with a man I love, studying magic and having adventures. I don’t want to be stuck in the hells killing people and having children be scared of me.” Then his face twisted, and Marius felt himself frown at just how vulnerable the eikon-slayer looked.

 “I’m worried about what it’s doing to me, Marius.” Ifan said carelessly and honestly. “Sometimes I feel like I’ve forgotten that I used to have a life before this.”

The Garlean gave no answer. Instead, he looked at the ground at the uncomfortable reminder of an all too familiar feeling.

“...Suppose it doesn’t make a difference, does it?” Ifan said, giving a sigh. “I chose the job, I need to see it through.”

“Job?” Marius asked, looking back up.

“Aye.” Ifan nodded. “The job.” He gave no further explanation.

Strangely, Marius found himself thankful that the eikon-slayer didn’t tell him what ‘the job’ entailed. The way he said it sounded like a death sentence, to the Garlean’s ears.

The pair stared at each other, silent once again. Marius’ breathing had now eased, but the sounds of warfare in the distance went on ceaselessly. 

Marius wet his lips. “...What will you do, now?” he asked.

Ifan hummed to himself briefly. “My orders were to clear the area. It’s clear. So I’ll probably go have a drink, find a man, take a nap, and wait for my next set of orders.” His tone was flat, as was his face, and the words were very practiced. Then he looked back at Marius again. “What about you?”

The Garlean had to take a good minute to give it some thought. That he was alive at all was nothing short of a miracle, at least based on the knowledge the Garlean Empire had of Kaleid the Black; or rather, the image of him that was useful to the Emperor. A merciful adventurer who liked playing with magic wasn’t someone who inspired fear and rage, which were the tools of conquest.

“They would not believe me if I told them you spared me,” Marius answered. “They will likely think I deserted, if I return alone.”

Ifan nodded. “What’s the penalty?” he asked, though he seemed to have a decent guess as to the answer.

Marius swallowed. “...Death.” he said, quietly.

Ifan’s lips pursed. He looked away again, thinking, then let out a long breath and nodded to himself. 

“I have a bit of gil. Should be enough to get you somewhere safe, for now.” He reached into his jacket and withdrew a small pouch from a space which seemed too small for it, before stepping forward and offering the coin to Marius. “Go be with your family, if you have any.” 

Marius reached up after another pause; not to take the pouch, but rather to remove his helm so he could look the eikon-slayer in the eye. His dark hair was plastered to his forehead around his third eye, and his pale face was flushed with lingering exertion, but his expression was a mask of sad and fearful gratitude. He let the helm fall where it landed with a final thud, before Marius accepted Ifan’s mercy. 

“...Thank you.” He said, and took the coin from Ifan before holding on to it carefully; his life depended on it, after all. 

Though could likely take his leave, Marius instead kept looking down at Ifan’s face. His lips twisted. “Have you any family?” he asked, unable to disguise the pity.

Ifan shook his head. “Not blooded, but…” His gaze lowered as his face took on a distant cast. “...most of them are gone, now. And I don’t want the other people I care about to see me like this.” The eikon-slayer then looked back up at Marius, and tilted his head apologetically. 

Marius didn’t know what to say. But he felt he should say something, so he did.

“I am sorry, Ifan.” he uttered, clutching at the coin pouch Ifan had given him.

Ifan stared at him in silence, and then gave him a faint, sad, but still thankful half-smile.

“Thanks, Marius.” He said. Then he nodded, and took a few steps back before he turned to leave. “...Good luck with your second chance.”

[sofasoap]

Mending Heart

Pairing : Din Djarin x f!reader. featuring Grogu, Paz Vizsla + OC.

Summary:  sequel  to heartbreak and Wrenching heart. Din is a big di’kut. His ad’ika to the rescue.

Slightly AU-ish, Din didn’t get N1 after Razor Crest got blown up.he got something similar. And his relationship with Paz isn’t that bad. He is still trying to redeem himself but didn’t get kicked out of the covert completely. Mummy Armorer is still pissed off at him though. 

Warning: Mature theme. strong languages. Alcohol use. 

English isn’t my first language, so I apologise for any mistakes. 

A/N : I seem to be writing all the Din fic for the University students at the moment to push them on ( Trust me, I know your pain. been there done that)   @groguspicklejar and @deakyjoe this is for both of you.

MASTERLIST

I am happy, I am back with Armour buir.

But where is Singing buir?

“She’s not here anymore, ad’ika.”

Why do you look so sad, armour buir? Armour buir isn’t happy anymore, I can feel it in the force.

There’s singing buir! We found her! She is happy to see me! But why isn’t she happy to see Armour buir? She is sad too.

Why are you crying Armour buir?

“I messed up, ad’ika. I really messed up.”

“You are a di’kut.” “ I know.” “ The biggest di’kut out there.” “ You don’t need to repeat that.” “Utreekov.” Din sighed. Sitting back to back with Paz, he Lift his helmet up slightly, downing another shot of spotchka. Trying to drown himself in alcohol and sorrow. Paz turn towards Grogu, “Gar buir kaysh mirsh solus” ( your father is an idiot ) “ Coo??” “ Can you not teach my ad’ika weird words.” “ He needs to learn some Mando’a you know.” Paz grab the cups, pour both another serving of spotchka. “Did you present her with a courting gift?” “.. I did, with my signet on it too.” “Hmm. Then I don’t know where you went wrong then.” “ Did you explain to her what it means?” Paz’s riduur chimed in as she put a plate of fruit and dried meat down for the men to snack on. “......NO.” “ I swear you Mandalorians always assume everyone should know all the hidden meanings behind the actions.” She sighed. Turning to Din, “You know Paz chuck me a knife the day after he saved the village, hover around me for days, expecting me to say something to him.”  she rolled her eyes. Din remembered. Paz kept sneaking out to the village, and when the Armorer ask him what he is doing, all he replied was, “Just to see everyone is alright at the village, I have to make sure the security is up to date.” 

His vod was so love struck by the woman who fought valiantly to protect her village, he didn’t even care she is a non-Mandalorian, he dug through his family weapon cache and gifted her a sacred heirloom. Pass down only from Father to son. It’s not until his now-riduur went up to him and push the knife back into his hand, “ I don’t need another knife, I have plenty in store, we got a stash full of weapons in the armoury here, Mandalorian. Keep this for your covert.” Only then did Paz realise his mistake in approach. 

He remembered laughing at Paz, from the great Vizsla clan,  who could have ANY Mandalorian, hell, there was no lack of warriors trying to throw themselves at him, he went for a non-Mandalorian. The chaos that ensued after that. How the tide turned. 

“ I am a di’kut.” Din groaned. “ I did tell you.” “Shush Cyare. Stop making fun of your Vod.” Sitting down by Paz, she consoled Din, “ Look, you can still redeem yourself…” “ I feel like I am redeeming myself a lot lately. This is probably going to be more impossible than finding living water on Mandalore.” “ As non-Mandalorian.. I can suggest gifting her more… conventional gifts? Flowers… sweets.. What does she like?” Din look at Grogu,  what do YOU like? Oh dear.

“Patu!” Turning your head as you heard the sound, narrowing avoiding the sharp edges of the wingspan of the ship you are fixing. Peli has been commenting on how you are really not concentrating lately. Connecting the heat exhaust vent to the life support system,  putting the fuel intermix back to front. You are embarrassed. You pride yourself in quality jobs, and here you are, mind wandering over the places. Giving back the vibroblade back to Mando was your own way of cutting the tie with him completely.  Forget about him. Moving on. He doesn’t care about you. You convinced yourself. Yet. You find yourself thinking of him even more. No. You just miss the little green pea. “ Patu patu!!” Now you feel a little hand smacking your thigh. Looking down, Grogu was there by your feet, trying to get your attention. “What are you doing here?!!” you shuffled out from under the wing, picking him up, he extended his two little arms, and presented to you dried flower in his tiny claw-hand. “ Aww, thank you little pea, is that for me?” You look around the hanger nervously, Grogu is here, does that mean Mando is here too?? Makers, that is the last thing you want. You spotted Boba Fett standing by the hanger door. What is the Daimyo here?? “Greetings Daimyo, what can I do for you today? Do you require me to fix one of your transporters ....” “ Relax, please, just call me Boba Fett. No need to be so formal. I am babysitting the little green thing here for the day. He insisted on coming here and giving you the flower.” You let out a breath of sigh. At least Mando isn’t here. The way Boba Fett is looking at you, you feel like there is something else he isn’t letting on.  Few weeks later, Grogu is back again, this time with a little colourful stone in his hand. Fennec is with him. With amusement written all over her face. Next was some hard-boiled sweets. The time after that was a bottle of perfume from Pasaana. A scarf from Coruscant. Cloud puffs from Bespin. 

Wasaka berry from Khashyyyk.

Five-blossom bread from Naboo. Your favourite pastry from your younger days. Now you are getting more and more suspicious about the gifts. The little Pea definitely didn’t choose them. Deep down you know who was instructing him to bring the gifts. Coward. You thought. Getting his son to do the job for him. “We got a secret admirer here?” Peli teases you. “You mean either the Daimyo or Fennec? I doubt it.” You rolled your eyes. The gift just keeps coming. Always Grogu bring them, accompanied by either Boba or Fennec. Until that night. Peli has gone out again, to one of her dates. “Zeltrons,” she commented, “ great drinking companions, they hardly get drunk with their second liver!”

You decided to take advantage with a bit of solo time, dragging one of the crates to the centre of the hanger, enjoying the beautiful light of the three moons with a glass of light liquor you save up for occasions. Hearing the slight clunk sound of metal door opening, you assume Peli was back from her outing, you made a comment without turning around, “Your date didn’t go as planned, Peli?” You were met with the sound of heavy boots coming towards you. That’s not Peli, alarm bells ringing in your brain. Why didn’t the security droid alert me? Out of habit, your hand went to your belt, grabbing the vibroblade, only to realise, you returned it to its original owner. Worse of all, you left your blaster in your bunk. 

Slowly turning around to face whoever the intruder was,  you saw something shiny reflecting under the moonlight. It’s Din. He strides towards you, only stopping about arm length distance away. You always admire the confidence he exuded when he walked towards his bounty, his prey. His helm tilting down slightly, looking straight at you. Suddenly that confidence he was showing disappeared a little. You swallowed hard. Why is he here? 

He spoke first. “... .You got all the presents?” “Yes.” So your guess was right. It was from HIM. Fidgeting your hand, you wait for him to say more. Instead, he reaches around to the back of his belt, and brings something forward to present to you. 

The vibroblade. The same one he gifted to you before. “I… In… In Mandalorian culture,” You can hear the wavering in his voice with the slight distortion through the modulator. “ We.. gift a weapon, with our clan signet on it.. To.. um… someone we intended to court..” He was shifting a bit on his feet. “ I.. I am sorry I didn’t explain it to you the first time I gave it to you.” You can tell he was getting nervous. “I came to apologise and.." he was practically begging by this point, “ Please forgive me. I have been a di’kut.. An idiot for pushing you away. I was only thinking for myself.. I didn’t realise you were just as equally as hurt after losing Grogu..”  “Please come back.. We miss your presence…. I MISS YOU…” You reach towards his helmet, he flinches and moves back a bit with instinct. Pausing a bit, silently letting him know you have no intention of removing his helmet, he shifts towards you a little bit more. Pulling him down, you rest your forehead against his helmet. You hear a gasp was too soft to be picked up by the modulator.  Din wonders if you know the significance of the action. “You are the biggest, most idiotic, most frustrating Mandalorian I ever dealt with, Din Djarin.” Din’s knee nearly gave out upon hearing you using his real name for the first time. “ I convinced myself to forget about you, but how can I forget our time as a family? As a clan of three? You were too good to us, Din….” Tears were slowly falling down your cheek.

“ I realise you care about us in your own way, but you really need to tell me what is going on in that beskar brain of yours.. I can’t guess what you are thinking all the time.” You were sobbing by now. Din moves one of his gloved hands towards your face, wiping away the tears. “You were ignoring me, not telling me what your problem was, I was so hurt. I thought we had something going on between us, yet you keep pushing me away, I don’t feel wanted anymore, just like my family.  Throw me away when I was no use to them.” Din’s heart tightened. This is the first time you let out any details of your former life.

“Yet, you wouldn’t let me go.” sucking in a deep breath, you continue pouring your heart out. “ I am not an object Din, you can’t trap me with you without giving me one good damn reason. So I ran. I ran as far as I could. But you still found me.” “ By pure chance.” he softly added. “ By pure chance. From that point I was actually believing the Force was leading us together. I wasn’t planning to stay here this long.” “But I didn't want to get hurt again. I want to cut my ties with you once for all.” “ That is why you gave me the vibroblade back.” Din replied with saddness in his voice. “ I didn’t know the significance of the gift. Though, even if I did, I would still have given it back. For what you have done.” Din looked down to the ground with shame. 

You sighed.  Pulling away from him, you push his hand with vibroblade back towards him. 

His heart dropped. 

“I am going to ask you again, do you miss me only because you have Grogu back and you need a maid to look after him again? To have someone fix your ship, clean up after you two, and throw me away again when I am not needed anymore?” You growled. “NO! It’s not like that Mesh’la… I..” He stepped forward and blurted out.

“Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum.” 

Your eyes widened. You vaguely remember the meaning of the sentence from your studies.

“I will know you forever..” You whispered. Din’s head whipped up, shocked. “ you…. “ “Yes Din, I know what it means.” you reach out to his hand and take the vibroblade from him. “ I can’t leave yet , Din. There’s too much work going on for Peli to deal with on her own. Come and pick me u in a few months. In the meanwhile. I will keep this gift of yours.”

Din pulls you into a tight hug. You bury your face in his hard beskar breastplate. It’s a start. You’ll see how this goes. You are allow yourself to hope again. 

If in doubt, use Grogu. He will melt anyone’s heart. Din was trying his luck with whatever he could find, hoping to hit the mark with one of the presents. Reader has been hurt so deeply, she needed a lot of reassurance from Din before she accepted his love. I can’t believe i am saying this.. I might write a bloody part 4. Gosh. 

If i feel like it...I might write about Paz and his riduur’s comedic courtship sometime. 

Thank you so much for reading, any likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated! 😀

Tag list:

@frogtits1, @READINGFAN, @memester-png @jake-g-lockley @novaethecosplayer @foxgirl95

[neonlight2]

Jaehaera Targaryen (OC)

Masterlist

Jousting tournament

The commotion was endless. People of arrayed rank and standing surrounded the pit of dirt, which smelled a sweat, blood, and shit— horse and man. But such was carnage. Nobles frothed at the mouth for the violence. Those that claimed to be better than the common folk, who were too dirty, too uneducated, or too uncivilized to converse with. They all had the same hunger, built from pent up rage, to watch someone else crumble under the mercy of one far stronger. However, the question is if it is true?

Are the nobles truly so high? Or are they even more sickly, plagued with the ugly hide of greed, than those which serve?

***

“Why are we here Rhaenyra?” The girl known as the ‘new born dragon’, Princess Jaehaera, asked her sister by law. She was stuck in between Princess Rhaenyra and a mutual friend, Lady Alicent Hightower. Both knew she couldn’t be let out of sight, for she would disappear without a word to seek comfort in the training grounds or reading atop the dragons den.

“Because we are required to be here Issa qēlos, father expects us to be at social events.” (My star)

“No he expects you to be at social events with the Lords and Ladies of court,” she stated plainly with bored eyes. “I’m a bastard.”

Jaehaera received a quick glare from her sister before her hand was stolen, and their fingers were interwoven. “Don’t say that about yourself. My wrath does not stop for you, at you. I will not hear any slander of your—,”

“Oh please calm down Queenie, you know the term doesn’t hurt me.”

“Yes, but it’s disgraceful and treason for someone to say so Princess,” Alicent chimes in, holding the girls other hand.

Jaehaera was caged, that she knew, but she didn’t mind their warm and gentle touch. However, all of this was so new. It was taboo to a child of the underground city. She used to hate others touch, yet now she couldn’t help but feel starved for it.

“Yes but not to me.” She stated with no infliction, almost seeming amused by the notion. “So there’s no true, political reason for me to be here, watching an over-exaggerated cock fight then. You just wish to pester me.”

“Or I just wish for your company,” Rhaenyra remarks back playfully.

Rolling her eyes, Jaehaera leans over to whisper in her ear. “Bullshit. You just want to gawk at the knights.”

“Jaehaera!” Alicent gasped, covering her mouth to suppress her laughter.

“What? Don’t act so innocent Ali. Just because you’re not as shameless as Rhaenyra doesn’t mean I don’t see your quick glances at the knights build.”

Jaehaera had in fact caught Alicent a numerous of times in the act of checking out lords and knights. So there was no doubt when she caught the small pink about her friend’s cheeks once they entered the jousting grounds, that this was only the beginning. Alicent could barely deal with invited flirtations, let alone bare skin— which would absolutely be peaking out between the plates of armor that the men were clad with.

“You mean to have me believe that you wish to see no one here?” Rhaenyra asks with a curious smile expression, whilst saving Alicent from further embarrassment.

The bored looking princess hummed in confirmation, resting her forehead on Rhaenyra’s shoulder, crooning her temple to relief the stress building up in her skull.

“Not even Daemon?”

Rolling her eyes once again, Jaehaera pushed herself off of her cheeky sister, relying on Alicent to become her new cushion. To which the girl did not disappoint. “Don’t project onto me Nyra, and for your information—,” loud horns interrupted the girls, shooting off a protruding tune to which was not entirely pleasant. Although, the trio all had the same, simultaneous thought.

Speak of the devil.

Perking their heads up slightly to get a better look, the girls view the spectacle Prince Daemon like to call a proper entrance.

Rhaenyra marveled at her uncle’s display, finding it entertaining and him gorgeous in his specially designed armor to resemble that of a dragon’s wings. Daemon loved being a dragon that fact was well known. He prided himself greatly of being of magic and blood relation. This happened to be one of his many ways of showing of his pride, love, and power. Rather zealous, but he was never shy of dramatics.

However, Alicent couldn’t help but gulp in unease as her gaze flickered between her brother and the rogue prince; she feared the damage he could do.

“I see enough of Daemon as it is.” Jaehaera mutters the last of her answer, knowing very well Daemon now had all of Rhaenyra’s attention.

The crowd roared wildly at his entrance, knowing this would be a bloody tournament now. Everyone knew of the Rogue Prince’s thirst for victory and gore. He might be chaotic and a mischievous devil in daily court, but he was a monster on the battlefield— of any kind.

“And now it would seem Daemon has everyone’s attention,” Jaehaera huffed at Rhaenyra’s expression before hers morphed into disgust. Catching a glimpse of some officials betting on the participants welfare, others touching each other in the corners of as if they weren’t in the light of day, made her throat go rancid. “Just how he likes it.”

“Are you alright my princess?” Alicent asks, rubbing her friends back soothingly. “What is it?”

Before her friends eyes could be tainted by the revolting sight, Jaehaera faced Alicent with a wide smile— bright enough to fool anyone. She took her hands and nestled them along the soft of her face.

Crooning into her chilled palms like a cat, Jaehaera sighed. “Nothing, just another headache.”

Worrisome lines made their way into Alicent’s forehead, along with warming cheeks. “I told you to go see a maester. They’re happening too frequently—,”

“Lady Alicent!”

The shout almost made the poor girl leap within her seat, causing Jaehaera’s gaze to harden. Both glanced over to its origin, finding the center of attention beckoning theirs with childish desire.

Daemons expression was light and sneaky, his smirk resembling a cheshire cat, but the raven haired dragon knew better. She could see past his cocky facades, and she saw the dark intentions behind his eyes.

Jaehaera knew the man held no shame for his cruelty, finding it warranted almost always, but he was too prideful to admit other festering feelings. But she knew. She saw the way his eyes quickly flickered from Alicent’s hands, which were withdrawn in seconds, to the two girl’s eyes. Something new was brewing as the gears turned in his head.

Normally, this wouldn’t scare Jaehaera, but the way he was staring at Alicent made her stomach twist.

Whatever he was thinking… it was dangerous.

“My Lady,” Daemon reverberated with a sickeningly sweet tone. “I ask for your favor.”

Scoffing, Jaehaera stood before her friend could. Alicent could not refuse his request even if she wished; it would look poorly on not only her honor, but her father. But the thing that Jaehaera really didn’t like was that Daemon hadn’t even tried to play it off as a question. While the Princess had a good amount of hunger for trouble as well, she couldn’t stand upright arrogance— particularly when it was staring her in the face and directing itself shamelessly at her loved one.

Putting her hand behind her, a small gesture to urge her friend to remain calm and still, Jaehaera peered down at her devious ‘realative’. Resting her elbows against the railing she toyed with Daemons lance, which was protruding her personal space rather annoyingly she thought.

“Do you wish to make us jealous Uncle?”

Daemon’s expression scrunched up into something that could only be described as pure, utter disgust. It took a lot for Daemon to grimace like that, even Otto never seemed to succeed, but she knew he absolutely hated that.

Jaehaera was one of the only few people who could call Daemon anything. Anything. And he’d simply laugh, give a rebuttal, or smirk like the right bastard he is. But he could not stand her calling him Uncle.

In the first few months that’s all she called him, that or ‘my Prince’. And while he didn’t despise the latter, Daemon wasn’t fond of her formal use of the title. Jaehaera believed he held great destain for her in the beginning because of the fact. She thought maybe he thought her below him, being that they weren’t actually of the same blood nor status for that matter. If it weren’t for his constant pestering and relentless attention she would have continued to think so. It didn’t help that every time she asked him why he loathed when she called him Uncle— what she thought to be a term of endearment— and not in times with Rhaenyra, Daemon said the same thing.

“Because you are not Rhaenyra. You two are totally different people.”

So Jaehaera usually settled calling him asshole and bastard— sometimes if he was lucky enough however, she’d be in the mind to call him more loving names. Sadly, he learned the hard way that the easiest ways to retain them was whilst training with her, which ended more bruises than one would normally hope for.

“I only wish for Lady Alicent’s favor for luck my dear Princess. I’m going against her brother, who is quite skilled in this area of expertise I’ve heard.” Daemon replies, a more cunning spark lighting within his eyes.

Humming in a patronizing tone, Jaehaera glanced back at Alicent and gave her a reassuring smile. “I suppose she’ll want to give you the honor,” Alicent was quick to catch on and waived over her maid to retrieve her favor amongst the others in holding. “But now I have a conundrum Uncle.”

Exhaling deeply, in order to control his twitching eyebrows, Daemon smiled back at the girl. “And what’s that my princess?”

“My original plan was to give you my favor, but it doesn’t seem fair that you should get two…,” Jaehaera dragged out the last word as her friend slid her favor down his lance, decorating it with green and white flowers. “So, whoever shall I give it to now?”

The girl lets out a short sigh, tapping her face in ‘contemplation’. For who would she give it too? Who was worthy of a Princess’s favor, let alone one who is familiar with the sport herself.

“I guess I’ll have to find another after your joust.” Jaehaera stated with a light disposition, making Daemon’s jaw clench in slight irritation. He’d dig his own grave when the time came, along with the fellow he’d kill upon receiving her favor.

“We wish you luck Uncle,” Rhaenyra said with a fonder smile, diffusing the tension she noticed by looping her arm through Jaehaera’s, then giving a gentle tug.

Tipping his head in respect and genuine admiration, Daemon— though fully frustrated by the whole situation he had created— couldn’t help but enjoy the view of his two girls standing, linked together with foreboding expressions. His niece Rhaenyra’s filled with amusement and yearning for entertainment, whilst Jaehaera’s eyes were intense yet still twinkling in something Daemon had grown to be afraid and excited by.

“Thank you my princess, I hope to make you two proud.”

The raven haired dragon’s eyes flickered from Daemons, resting on her dear friend with sympathy. She may not have been close with Alicent’s brother, but she could imagine this to be a very scary predicament.

“Well let the joust begin then!”

All heads turned to face behind the four, landing on the king who had grown tired of the needless chitchat of his brother. Not to mention, he rather hated seeing his family so tense. More particularly his girls; he rather liked seeing Daemon squirm. He’d never admit it alas.

A thankfully smile etched its way onto Jaehaera’s face as they all bowed their heads at her father’s order. The trio sat, now with Alicent in the middle, for she was in need of most comfort. She held her friend’s hands with such a fierce grip; they could see the white of her bone pressing intently on her skin, waiting to break free. And her nerves only grew worse by the second.

Both contestants took to their side, raising their colors one last time before the horns screamed one last time, and the thunder of horse hooves sounded off twice as loud. Dirt splashed those on the lower stands, kicked back furiously by the horses as they charged forward. Their rider stuck true, leading a lance straight to the chest. Sir Hightower’s lance packed a greater force than Prince Daemons it would seem. It caught the royal’s chest plate, whilst his own broke in half. This, of course, only made the prideful man even more determined. If there was one thing Daemon loved more that a good challenge or chaotic beginning, it was to win. And win definitely.

At the start of the joust the newest Princess saw the look Daemon had shared with the hand of the king. He’d never been too fond of Otto, that much was clear, but letting his pettiness deep to his children— that was a new low. But he also never cared for rules, and who was going to stop him? The brother of the king? A warrior known amongst most men? Feared by most men?

Even his brother wished to see the outcome, overcome by a serene since of loyalty. He knew his brother would win, and while Daemon could be a pain in his ass, he always made his brother proud in these matters.

Jaehaera knew Daemon was out to maim, and after retrieving his second lance, her suspicions were confirmed. There was a tilt to his lance. Too quick for one not familiar with the sport to notice, so most gasps and screams occurred after Sir Hightower was flipped over his horse. Daemon had hit the poor creature instead. She took a quick glance to see her friend weeping silently into Rhaenyra’s shoulder— to hide it from the public. They would shame her for being ‘too emotional’. As if her brother being mauled and perhaps mutilated wasn’t an enough reason.

Oh, and how it made the girl’s blood boil.

Without a second thought, Jaehaera slipped her hand out of Alicent’s. Her prescience soon vanished.

***

Rhaenyra couldn’t help but feel bad for Alicent, who was currently sobbing into the collar of her neck. A few minutes ago she was shouting encouragements for her uncle, who she was just pleased to interact with. He had been gone for a while, off on one of his annual benders. Another he had not taken her and Jaehaera on, like he had promised.

But now, guilt ripped at the first Princess’s heart. She was too blinded to truly realize the circumstance, that her friends brother was the one against her bloodthirsty uncle. Rhaenyra only ever received the sweet and playful part of Daemon. Surely, she knew he could be cruel, but it was not something she had to be faced with, until now.

And while it wasn’t someone she directly cared about, Rhaenyra felt great empathy for her friend. She knew if it were someone she were close to, her state might have been worse. Oh, if it had been Jaehaera—

Eyes widening, the princess felt her stomach drop. “Jaehaera?”

Sniffling, Alicent shifted her head up slightly to view her friends shocked expression. Furrowed eyebrows followed not to long after, and her neck creeped the other direction. Finally her own eye drew tight, and both girls had a look of panic about them.

“Jaehaera?!” Alicent screamed, looking around the nobles sitting amongst them. She could barely be heard over the ongoing commotion though.

It was only until Otto and Viserys got sight of their otherwise deranged looking daughter’s approaching them that they were given any recognition.

“What is going on my child?” Viserys asked his daughter, holding out his hand for her to take.

Rhaenyra took it with haste, a worrisome feeling urging her to look all around her. She was just there, she thought. “Jaehaera’s vanished again.”

A hearty chuckle buffers the girls search, instead inflicting a sense of belittling. Here she was, in a panic to find her sister and Otto was laughing. Even his own daughter found it appalling.

Viserys had at least taken a moment to be wary. He let his eyes drift, hoping to put an end to his heirs suffering by spotting Jaehaera somewhere amongst the crowd. Everyone close to the girl knew she liked to wander; it was her nature to be curious and long for freedom. She wasn’t someone to be caged. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t bring himself to be as anxious as Rhaenyra. He had grown accustomed to his daughter running off, and he trusted that she would go to one of her well know places. So when Otto laughed at their children’s faces, he couldn’t bring himself to disagree. They knew her as well as them, perhaps better. Why all the fuss?

“I’m sure she’s just gone to the library to learn another language,” Otto suggested after his amusement simmered. “Why she wishes to learn Dothraki is beyond me.”

“As is most of what my sister does.” Rhaenyra quipped, a pout of destain now on her face.

Scoffing to himself, Otto tilts his head in seeming agreement. “Quite.”

“I’m sure she just studying my dear, perhaps even training. I know she finds watching these tournaments rather dull.” Viserys reassures with a smile on his face.

“I know father but she would never leave when—,” Rhaenyra’s words get caught in her throat after feeling Alicent’s hand brush against her side. Her gaze wavering to see a pleasing look upon her friends face.

“When what Princess?” Otto asks while glancing between the girls. His eyes hardening— daring for his own daughter to say something. Of course he felt bad for his son, his pride and joy, but he also knew better. And Alicent was expected to as well. He could see how puffy her eyes had become and how red her cheeks were; he wasn’t a fool.

“I just had a bad feeling father. I know her. She wouldn’t leave right after Daemon—,”

Again, the princess was interrupted by the blasting of obnoxious horns. Rhaenyra swore by all the Old Gods of Valeria, if she were to hear another peep of a horn she’d banish them from her sight for the length of her reign.

“There has been a last minute addition to the joust! Princess Jaehaera, the new dragon of the land, wishes to compete!”

“Oh seven hells,” Viserys let go of Rhaenyra’s hand, rubbing a hand down his face while standing up. “Why do my children seek to put me in an early grave?”

Once he’s made it to the railing, the king watched as his daughter road her horse with a straight back, confident as a knight of old. He’d like to say that he’d be able to scold her at this moment, but he couldn’t. His heart betrayed him. Viserys was nothing but a ball of warm mush when it came to his daughter, sometimes to a fault.

There was a great uproar; a mix of excitement and discontent brewing among the audience. It was not proper for a lady to be involved with such matters, yet… who were they to dictate what is and isn’t proper?

“And who is it you wish to joust Princess?!” The bellman asked, bowing dramatically as he usually did. Jaehaera couldn’t help but admire his commitment.

Humming a tune unfamiliar to those around her, Jaehaera tilts her head at a symbol she wasn’t able to recognize. It was filled with many stars, quite precious in her mind. Many knights used their family crests, that of which were fierce. Yet this one, was decorated in stars. How curious.

Her horse trotted toward the knight dressed in the least expensive armor in the line, definitely of common birth. A new sparkle arose in Jaehaera’s eyes, mimicking that of his shield.

“What is your name Sir..?”

All those surrounding them gawked at the Princess’s choice. Out of all the prestigious knights— one of which being the Rogue Prince, whom she had been ignoring much to his dismay— she’s choose…

Removing his helmet, the knight revealed an abundance of rich dark locks, and eyes of bark brown— almost matching the dirt beneath them. Bowing his head in respect, he peered up at Jaehaera with such purity. It was a little off putting if she were to admit.

“Sir Criston your highness,” his answer multiplying the whispers around the pair. However, his gaze never shifted from the Princess before him. “I would be honored to be your opponent.”

Jaehaera’s brow drew up high at his response. She was sure most of the other knights would have tried to coax her with flattery. Maybe even try and persuade her to quit while she could. In that moment she knew she had chosen the right one.

“Well, Sir Criston, I was actually going to ask for a favor.” She threw a quick glance at her family, brushing over Rhaenyra, Viserys, Alicent, and finally Daemon. The princess gave the clad man a grin before gesturing her new acquaintance to come closer.

Jaehaera tilted her head to the side once Criston was within arms reach, gently pulling him by the tuft of his armor. Then she leaned to his ear and whispered something impossible for anyone else to hear. No matter how quiet the crowd got, none could decider a single word. But by the grin spreading across the knight’s face, it wasn’t hard to tell it pleased him. It almost matched the princess’s.

“It would be my honor.” Sir Criston said, watching intently as she drew back.

Letting a breathy laugh leave her lips, she nods. “I’m sure.”

Fastening her hair up, Jaehaera gave her steed a light smack on the side. This bringing her face to face with Daemon at last. “I was hoping you would humor me my Prince.”

Daemon shifted in his saddle as he watched her attentively. He knew she was up to something. Payback no doubt for hurting her friend, which he understood. Her loyal and protective nature was part of what he loved about her, but what he didn’t understand was… why was she bring Sir Criston into this?

He was a fine knight, that Daemon could not dispute, but he was nothing compared to the likes of him— let alone Jaehaera.

“I’m always at your disposal my princess, whatever you wish.”

“Make a wager with me then?” Her tone now giddy and light, causing her teeth to sink into her plush bottom lip.

Daemon’s own lips couldn’t help but quirk at the sight of her new demeanor. All he could do was nod, compliant as ever.

“You and Sir Criston will joust,” she started, a finger held high for all to see. “And whomever is the victor, will then be my opponent.”

The crowd grew hysterical upon the Princess’s words reaching their ears. Once low murmurs turned to an uproar. Some were absolutely exhilarated by the prospect, already placing their own wagers and bets. However, majority were tense and criticized the very notion.

These grievances traveled quickly about the rows, which meant it only took a few minutes for them to get to Viserys. Oh, and how the king didn’t like that.

“Silence!”

The arena went quiet in an instant.

Jaehaera’s doe eyes glanced along the audience surrounding her, a small, coy smile dancing along her mouth. Finally, when everything seemed fully calm and collected, she turned to her father in great gratitude. It seemed she wouldn’t need to stretch out her vocal cords today.

She took a dramatic bow atop her horse, hair falling forward like a swatting horse tail. “Thank you father.”

Scoffing under his breath, amused by his daughter’s dramatic performance, the king held his hand out— a gesture to tell her she could stop. If Jaehaera hadn’t gotten the impression from his expression.

“So what’ll it be Daemon?”

Both father and daughter, king and princess, brother and niece— both asked Daemon in a tone demanding. He knew, even if he had planned to refuse, he would not be able too. That’s when his eyes got wide, peering at Jaehaera with a raised brow.

The little dragon… was getting revenge.

His eyes flickered to the stand holding his brother, along with Rhaenyra and Lady Alicent, before returning to those blistering eyes of hot amber magma. And yet, Daemon’s smile got the widest it had all day.

“I could never refuse you, my princess.”

***

I think we all know the fate of Daemon and Sir Criston’s joust… and later brawl. We all know Dameon is a sore loser, so imagine his disappointment when loosing the chance to joust Jaehaera.

Oh, and it takes little time to figure out who won between the noble knight and the intuitive royal. While Sir Criston is a fine knight— he was not match for Jaehaera’s quit wit, nor her agility (where she dodged his attack falling to the side of her horse— held only by her feet— and launching herself back at him after his lance had passed her line of vision.)

And I know… from how Sir Criston (or little bitch, whichever you prefer), has been described in other parts of this series it may be a bit confusing right now. But like in the show, he was playing a hero until his cloak was removed and his true self was revealed. So just wait until “the incident”. Then you’ll see the shift in their relationship.

Thank you for being patient with me readers, hope you enjoyed.

[pckwrites]

The Dragon and the Knight

The beast lay on the cold castle floor, withered and gaunt. Its once magnificent scales turned dull and brittle. Tough, leathery skin hung off bones like fabric on a clothesline. Penetrating the silence of the empty castle, the dragon heard the sound of an uninvited guest. 

Clink. Clink. Clink.

The familiar sound of steel plate armor. In old days, the dragon would have flapped its mighty wings, exhaled a torrent of flames into the sky as it prepared to feast. But those days were long gone, barely even a memory.

“Well, isn’t this a sight for sore eyes,” said the owner of the clink-clink-clink.

The dragon tilted his head and shrugged at the sight of a knight holding a large broadsword high above his head.

“Have at it. Achieve your glory. Save the town. Win the princess. Whatever it is you lot do, " the dragon murmured with weary resignation.

The knight hesitated, searching for a hint of deception. But he found none. He lowered the broadsword and removed his helmet to reveal a similarly withered expression and a head of wispy, gray hair, “Hardly any glory in killing a dying beast.”

He took a seat beside the dragon. A cautious distance, but close enough to hear him whisper. 

The dragon grumbled, “You had many chances. It’s not my fault you were a shoddy knight.”

“I think it is your fault, actually,” The knight replied with a wry glint in his eye.

The dragon let out a glimmer of a grin, “I’ll never forget that day you rode in with all your men, desperate to slay me—“

“Only to turn tail the moment my banner caught aflame,” The knight smiled wryly.

The dragon let out a hearty laugh, interrupted by a sickly cough. The knight frowned at the pathetic sight. He reached into his bag. The dragon instinctively shuffled away, but the knight raised a hand to signal it was no threat. He pulled out an old banner with burnt edges.

The dragon stared in awe, “You kept that ratty thing?”

The knight nodded, “Of course. Proof that I battled with a dragon and lived to tell the tale.”

“And that?” The beast’s claw gestured to the image of a striking red dragon emblazoned on the banner.

The knight ran his fingers along the fabric, “My wife’s handiwork. She was the one with all the talent. Thankfully my children took after her. Of course, before they…” As a rush of emotions surfaced, the knight held them back with an ease that gave away his experience. “Before things went awry.”

“Somehow the world is left with just you and me, “ the dragon remarked. 

After a lingering silence, the knight rose to his feet with a tired grunt. He lifted the steel chest plate off his shoulders and dropped it to the castle floor. A relieved sigh as the heavy weight had been whisked off him.

The dragon stared in surprise, “What are you doing?”

“You never meant to kill me that day. You saw me for what I was—a foolish, young brute that acted with his emotions before his brain,” The knight said as he removed his armor, piece by piece. “Now it’s time to return the favor.”

The dragon turned its snout, “I won’t be given charity. And besides, I no longer have any desire for precious metals.”

“Not charity…” The knight reached into his bag and pulled out a parcel wrapped in brown butcher’s paper. He unwrapped the contents and tossed it before the dragon, revealing raw cow’s flank, “… a meal between friends.”

The dragon looked puzzled, but his questions were soon answered upon looking at the knight. Without the armor, his skeleton-thin physique revealed itself. He was an old man on borrowed time.

The knight made a gesture, asking to approach. The dragon nodded and the knight took a seat beside him. From his bag, the knight pulled out a small meal of cured ham and crackers made from oats.

In the halls of the decaying castle, the dragon and the knight shared a meal, comforted by the presence of a familiar face. 

[fallout4-reacts]

How would the various companions react to like during the escape of vault 114 skinny Malone shouts out to his goons "I want that Twink obliterated" at nick

Cait : She gives Nick a nasty glare but crosses Sole's nervousness. She doesn't like this phoney detective who looks down on her, but she doesn't want Sole to feel guilty.

"Don't worry, they'll try; they'll just run into me and my bat on the way."

Codsworth : "We'd better save ourselves as soon as possible!"

Nick casts a glimpse towards the robot accompanying his saviour. "Why? They never threaten you. They're looking for me."

"However, you are Mum/Sir's only hope of finding young master Shaun. We're not going to let them get to you that simply!"

Nick can't help but smile at the robot, which undoubtedly conveys the background thinking of Sole, who rushes into position, weapon in hand.

Curie : "Doux Jesus!" she said. "This man is terrible! Shouldn't we... flee to avoid them?"

"Not a bad idea," says Sole. "However, Nick, you remain well ahead in sight. I didn't come all this way to have holes drilled in you on the way out."

"What about me?"

"Run with him, and I'll cover you."

Danse : "Tactically, it would be more prudent to abandon the synth. We already have enough on our plate without having to defend this individual against a horde of assailants."

"This synth is my one and only chance to find my son!"

Danse sighs as he looks down at Sole.

"Proceed, I will shield you with my armor. But if you attempt to do it backwards, synth, I'll get out of their way, and we'll have to find another way to find Sole's son."

Deacon : His brows appear over the rims of his glasses, but his demeanour remains unaltered as he gives Sole a little hand gesture to proceed forward. Deacon disappears into the shadows as Sole go further with Nick behind them. While Nick and Sole are walking towards the exit, they hear some dry detonations followed by silence. Deacon rejoins the two fugitives on their level.

"They're not going to chase you anymore, Nick," Deacon says.

Dogmeat : He doesn't know what it's about, but his master goes to this detective, whom he sometimes hang with, and both appear to be afraid of something. The dog's hair rises on the back, and he turns toward the fierce energy with a growl. Men approach with a sinister expression. Dogmeat will shred them all.

Elder Maxson : He dislikes Nick Valentine. He dislikes being persuaded to do this with Sole. He has no idea how this happened. (Possibly due to the fact that the Prydwen never arrived in the Commonwealth at this point 😅😉 ) But one thing is certain: he despises losing his goal to the adversary. He spins around in an instant and charges, not like a fool, but like in a true guerrilla, using the shadows to set up ambushes where raw force or gunfire are insufficient. The poor triggermen have little chance against such a smart tactician, who is equally good at conceiving and executing a strategy.

Hancock : "They don't know who they're dealing with!" he exclaims.

And before Sole or Nick can react, he leaps into the melee, dodging gunfire and splitting the stomachs with his knife without hesitation. Nick and Sole make it their business to complete what little work remained. But the mayor can become feral whenever he wants, and threatening one of his buddies brings out the worst in him.

Gage : He casts a mocking glance towards Sole.

"I told you it was a bad plan from the start!"

"I require the services of this detective. We must prevent them from killing him."

"You need that detective. I need an Overboss. But I'm not going to let a gang of triggermen kill me for this, Overboss. You'll meet me at Nuka-World when you remember what your interests are."

He walks away without saying anything else. He's a raider, you know. Loyalty is not something they have a reputation for. (After all, even if you romance him, he is the first to shoot you in Open Season)

MacCready : "It smells like bone."

"If we don't help him, I'll never find my son."

"Two or three hundred more caps and—"

"Wait, are you negotiating at this time?" exclaim Sole.

"There will never be another better time."

"150, and we have a deal."

"Are you serious?" ask Nick, becomeing irritated.

"Sold! Pointe, I fire."

And, needless to say, there is no longer a triggerman to chase a now taciturn Nick who can't believe his life has been negotiated down.

Nick Valentine : He gives Sole a look of concern. That was something he should have expected. Honor is always last on the agenda with individuals like Malone. He raises his weapon and prepares to protect his life, but to his surprise, Sole also shoulders.

"Wait, you're not fleeing? They're looking for me."

"I also require your assistance. Furthermore, there is no need to investigate who is good and who is bad."

The detective says nothing as the exchange of fire begins, but even after the final triggerman has ceased breathing, he continues to ponder about the moment when Sole, a stranger to him, risked their lives for his synthetic skin.

Piper : "Things are getting complicated," she observed.

"You can go, I'll cover your back," Sole replies.

"Don't you think about it seriously? Do you believe this is the most dangerous situation I've ever encountered? Anyway, I'm not giving up Nicky that lightly."

"Wow, Piper, I'd almost be flattered," Nick says, taken aback.

"Don't think too much," she advised. "It's only a matter of ethics."

Preston : "Who do they think they are?" He asks. "We made a deal, and we stuck to it!"

"You can have fun explaining it to them once they put holes on me like a sieve," Nick replies sarcastically.

"Who do you believe I am? We didn't come to pull you out of there and watch you die!"

Sole doesn't waste time debating and rushes into position, ready to receive the triggerman. Preston covers their back and shoots enthusiastically. When there are no more triggermen standing, he moves closer to the nearest body.

"Adhere to the terms of any deal you make. Honor is what keeps a man up when he has nothing else."

Strong : "AAAAAAAAAAARH!" he shouts.

No wondering which side he's on. Sole wants the detective; the men want to kill the detective. Strong kills the men. Strong is powerful. Strong defends Roboman. That’s all.

X6-88 : "I would strongly suggest that we abandon this obsolete model, which appears to be accumulating more and more problems, and instead utilize the Institute's resources in order to achieve your objective." "What are you doing here???!!"

[tanis-fics]

Knight in shining armor

Barry Wheeler would do anything to keep his bestseller, his superstar, safe and out of trouble (as much as he could, anyway). If that meant to pretend he was the owner of the matching ring on his finger when men hit on him at a club, so be it.

Pairing: Alan Wake/Barry Wheeler ♦ Words: 995 ♦ Note: For the @februaryficletchallenge, prompt Fake Dating 🔥

[on ao3] ♦ [on squidgeworld] ♦ [read on site]

 It wasn't strange for women to be around Alan when they hit the town, swarming the handsome author despite the ring on his hand up until they got the message loud and clear, leaving disappointed. It wasn't strange for men, either, which always made Barry raise an eyebrow. Not in confusion, no, there was nothing to be confused about; Alan was a catch, objectively speaking (they wouldn't be making the money they did if he wasn't); but he was also so, very, blatantly straight, Barry couldn't for the life of him wonder why they'd even take the chance in the first place.

 Regardless, they persisted. Men with fine attire that he wouldn't clock as gay if it weren't for the way they looked at his friend. For the way they touched him, casually, yet with intent.

 At this point of the night Alan was probably too drunk to tell, Barry reasoned as he watched from the other side of the bar, having finished his part of the socialities already and quickly picking a couple somethings to snack before heading back, alarms going off on his mind. That must be it.

 Slipping an arm around his back and the snack inside his ringed hand -making the metal shine with the light in the process- the best agent and best friend in the entire world sat heavily at his side, announcing.

 "Sorry fellas, this man's already taken." Luckily none of them saw the absence of a match on naked fingers, eyeing him up and down before scattering around. The way it took a few seconds for Alan to react gave him a cue of his state. The way he slid further into his arm, comfortably, answered the rest of his questions. The man was beyond salvation at this point, it was a good thing he spotted him before anything bad happened. A homophobia lawsuit and newspaper headline over a broken nose were the very last things Barry needed on his plate.

 "Seriously?" He snorted. "Are you my wife now?"

 "Seriously, Al. Are they still around?" He asked, smiling sardonically at the comment but refusing to answer it. Alan raised an eyebrow, amusement showing easier than most days as he scanned behind them languidly, while Barry did the same for any hidden paparazzi. He shrugged eventually.

 "You could say that."

 "Are they looking at us?"

 "...Yeah, sure. Why...?"

 Barry grumbled under his breath before cupping the back of Alan's neck with his hand, leaning further on that tight space in just the right way to fool anyone watching. A kiss, a simple brush of lips against his friend's warm, warm cheek that seen from the wrong angle could have been planted on unsuspecting lips. Alan just let an acknowledging noise when they parted without moving an inch. Barry was glad he was exempt from his fight of flight response.

 "What, what was that for?"

 "That's me saving your skin, Al." He whispered, still close enough to be heard. "Those guys over there were totally checking your out."

 This close he could feel him take a deep breath. In discomfort at the idea, no doubt. Disgust, even.

 "Were they?"

 "I know right?" Barry laughed, arm still comfortably and protectively wrapped around his best friend's shoulders, hand playing with his hair in reassurance as his taller, drunker frame leaned slightly onto him in that small couch. With his other hand he started chewing on the food. "Good thing they bought it, huh? Tell me they scattered by now."

 A both quick and lethargic look around the busy club came back empty, and Alan ate deep in thought as Barry tried to change the subject to the deals he had been making, before licking the salt off his fingers and slowly downing the rest of his drink.

 "Hey, Barry."

 "Yeah?"

 "What would you've done if they hadn't buy that?" Barry hummed, shifting a bit on his seat without wanting to think too much about it. The thought made him feel funny. The thought, and having Alan pressed against him the way he was in that moment.

 "You don't wanna know, Al." Now it was his friend's turn to laugh at the dramatic statement.

 "Give me a break."

 "I'm being serious! Think about it this way: when haven't I done anything to keep people out of your back?"

 Alan looked at him, bemusement mixing with a certain drowsiness on his eyes. Call it sleep or skepticism. Barry called it that, at least.

 "Anything?" He repeated.

 "Anything." He enounced, dead serious. Alan was the writer, the artist, between the two, but Barry was a goddamn miracle maker. He could talk his way in and out of anything, if he so wanted. Didn't even need to talk, in this case.

 Not that he wanted to, here and now, of course.

 But if the situation were to ask for it. Well. Barry could think a couple ways to keep the wrong crowd away from him. If they didn't get the memo from his ring, his wife, and everything else about Alan, Barry would make sure they knew that man wasn't up to be shared with.

 "...C'mon hotshot, lets get you home." he joked, finally, throat dry and having grown wary of playing with the hair at the back of his neck with his thumb, as Alan looked like he was starting to melt against him and the backside of the couch. This close he could feel the shiver that went down his spine, sighing deeply.

 "Let's go, then. My hero."

 Barry chuckled at the sarcasm, helping him get up with an arm around his waist and trying not to get toppled over by his added weight. He didn't wonder about it often, but sometimes he had to ask himself, did Al knew how much he would do for him? The lengths he would go for him? Glancing at the people around him, he unintentionally pulled him a bit closer.

 "You're damn right I am, Al."

[lunardragon00]

The Heir (Choi San x OC)

Masterlist

Genre: Fantasy , Lord!San x Princess!OC

Words: 4317

Authors Note: This one is one of the few time jumps this story will have, just keep that in mind.

Warning: Talks of war and battle // not very gruesome // Violence

Chapter Two --> Chapter Three --> Chapter Five

ℭ𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔉𝔬𝔲𝔯 - ℜ𝔢𝔲𝔫𝔦𝔬𝔫𝔰

Three Years Later.....

The war had been long and tough, many sleepless nights made the fighting men tired and weak. A group of men gathered around a long table, battle strategies thrown to one another. 

"We have sixteen, perhaps eighteen seaworthy ships. 700 foot, some 60 knights. Our food will quickly dwindle, save for what we can fish from the sea. I would say we have a fortnight, mayhaps longer with strict rationing. I've made call for Coralrift to send more ships, but it will takes weeks before they arrive. We are faltering and the triarchy knows it. We must press the attack, continue sending the dragons." The group watched as Lord Jungchul's brother, Lord Jaehyun, spoke. His son, Choi Jongho spoke. 

"It's pointless father, the crab feeders created a chokepoint here beyond these dunes. " Jongho moves a piece on the table, displaying points located in the battlefield. 

"Archers hold their high positions, foot soldiers hold the ground. We strike them on dragonback again and again, but they just retreat within the caves." Men looked at the placements on the makeshift map, agreeing with the young lords words. Jaehyun, not pleased, stared down his son. 

"Dragons can circle Bloodstone until fall out of the sky." He now looked to his brother, who had been supporting him in this fight. "The crab feeder and his men have no reason to leave those caves." Jongho cuts him off.

"Then we must give them one. An offering of flesh to bait the crab." Silence rested over them. 

"Who?" As Lord Jungchul posed the question, the air was filled with an uneasy silence. The men of House Choi exchanged wary glances, uncertain about the ominous proposition of offering someone to the crab forces. The atmosphere was thick with tension, and the weight of the impending decision hung in the air. Suddenly, a high-pitched screech pierced through the quietude. All eyes turned skyward, and the soldiers were met with a breathtaking sight – a red-scaled dragon soaring majestically above them. The creature's wings cut through the air with power, casting an imposing shadow over the camp. The men, caught between awe and fear, watched as the dragon circled above them. The vivid red scales shimmered in the sunlight, giving an otherworldly aura to the majestic beast. The dragon's presence added an unexpected layer of complexity to the already charged situation. As the dragon descended, the camp was bathed in a surreal glow. Its fiery eyes scanned the gathering below, adding an unsettling intensity to the unfolding scene.

"Yes, who? Which man here will happily be put to their death. Show me the knight who will march into that camp and I will call him a mad man." Jaehyun stepped closer to his son, who only stood taller,  ready for whatever was to come. 

"San" His father scoffed. "San is why we are losing." He spat at his son. Jongho was not going to relent. 

"At least he is fighting this war. What role have you played in his council Father, other then the master of complaints." Jaehyun didn't know how to reply.

"Enough Jongho...." Jungchul exclaimed, but a pathway was starting to form as the dragon rider walked to the group. The man had full armor on, his house sigil imprinted on his chest plate. Jaehyun turns to leave but his brother held him back by his arm. 

"Family or not Jaehyun, I will not you stoke mutiny." Jaehyun yanked his arm out of the mans grasp. Men moved to the side to let the soldier pass, who glared at the rider approaching the table. The man removed his helmet, hair matted from sweat and face covered in ash. As he took off his gloves, another man spoke. 

"if we do not seize control of this war my Lord, the crabs will soon dine on all of us."  Silence overcame the group, as they had a guest. Horses steps could be heard, the house Kim banner raised above soldiers heads. Each man watched as they approached, a young man walked forward. 

"Lord Jungchul, I bring words from his grace Kang-Dae, first of his name. King of the Andals, the Roynar, and the first men. Lord of the seven kingdoms, and protector of the realm." He reached for the inside of his cloak, pulling out a rolled parchment and handing it to the Lord. Jungchul took it from him and opened the scroll. His face unreadable as he examined it's contents. Once finished, he looked to his own son. He looked back to the messenger and handed the parchment back. A grim smile spread on his face and he leaned his hands upon the table. Looking out to the land, he saw smoke fill the sky, his ships burned down to their very foundation. A sinister laugh came out of him before he took hold of the placed helmet and striked the messenger with it. Men of the group rushed to separate the two, pulling the lord off of the innocent man. 

With the man now fallen, the dragon rider took hold of the parchment. His eyes scanned the contents of the parchment, and with each passing word, a storm of emotions brewed within him. The anger that built was palpable, and his grip on the parchment tightened. The message, a poor attempt of heroism. Twenty thousand ships he was to send, hundreds of soldiers aboard them. After all these years, the King has just now decided to provide aid when they had asked for it long ago.  

"What strategy was discussed?" He demanded. 

Jongho had appeared to be correct, but as was Lord Jaehyun, for San had turned into a mad man. Smoke had cleared the area, bodies revealed to be cut in half, skin burnt to char. Arrows stuck out of the ground everywhere soldiers walked as they searched for any fallen brothers. Lord Jungchul looked around the field, looking for his son's face, but finding it no where. The last time he caught sight of him was when he first approached the crab feeders cave, sword pulled out and placed in front of him, feigning surrender. It had happened quickly, when the crab people were close enough, San had swiftly grabbed his sword and began slicing through them. Aeshara, sensing her rider is danger, came flying down, then all he could see was fire encircling the area. 

He was about to shout his name, when movement was seen from inside the cave. Jungchul pulled his sword out, approaching with men following closely behind. Once the body came out to the sunlight, Jungchul relaxed, puting his sword back in it's sleeve. Armor and face covered in blood, his son emerged from the cave, dragging the crab feeders body behind him. 

-----------

The rough water rocked the ship, making the princess start to feel sick. She stood on the deck, overlooking the vast sea. She watched as birds flew overhead, their wings catching the breeze. The salty air filled her nostrils, and the rhythmic sounds of the waves crashing against the ship provided a soothing backdrop. Despite the seasickness creeping in, Hana found solace in the vastness of the ocean. Prince Wooyoung joined her on the deck. He too gazed out at the horizon, his expression thoughtful. The two friends shared a moment of quiet contemplation, surrounded by the boundless expanse of water.

"Seems like the sea has a mind of its own today," Wooyoung remarked, his eyes narrowing against the sun's reflection on the water. Hana nodded, a faint smile playing on her lips. 

"It's unpredictable, much like life itself." As the ship sailed further into uncharted waters, the anticipation of heading home made her heart fill with excitement. The dornish prince nudged her shoulder. 

"Since when did you become so wise princess? Have all those philosophy books finally get to you?" Hana laughed, shaking her head at his joke. 

"Perhaps they have," she replied, her eyes still fixed on the distant horizon. "Or maybe I've just learned to appreciate the lessons life teaches us, even the unpredictable ones." The crew on the ship bustled around, their tasks keeping the vessel on course. The sea breeze carried with it a sense of freedom and adventure, and Hana couldn't help but feel a renewed spirit within her.Wooyoung looked at her, a hint of curiosity in his eyes. 

"You've changed, Hana. The girl who used to sneak into the city for secret adventures seems more... composed now." She sighed, a mix of nostalgia and maturity in her voice. 

"We all grow up eventually, Woo. And sometimes, life forces us to face things we never expected." The ship sailed on, leaving behind the vast sea as it carried the friends closer to Drake's Landing. Hana couldn't shake the feeling that the journey ahead held more surprises and challenges.

"I'm surprised you stayed in Sunsphinx for so long, I was expecting you to leave the moment you got there." Wooyoung said. "I'll admit, the weather was something I had to adjust to, but truthfully I enjoyed myself." Hana responded. 

"I suppose the warmth of Sunsphinx has its own charm," Wooyoung remarked, a playful glint in his eyes. "And who knows, maybe I found something that made your presence enjoyable." Hana raised an eyebrow, catching the subtle implication in his words. 

"Oh, is there a particular reason you enjoyed my presence so much?" she teased, curious to know if there was more to his statement. Wooyoung chuckled. "Perhaps I will share it with you another time." As the ship sailed steadily, the banter between the two continued, creating a lighthearted atmosphere amidst the vast expanse of the sea. As they sailed, a sudden shout cut through the air, warning of an impending threat

"DRAGON" The unexpected turbulence tossed the ship from side to side, and Hana, standing on the deck, struggled to maintain her balance. In the chaos, she collided with the side of the ship, the impact causing her to wince in pain. Wooyoung, quick to react, rushed to her side. 

"Princess, are you alright?" he asked, concern etched on his face. Hana held her head, feeling the aftermath of the collision.

"I'm alright," she reassured him, attempting a small smile despite the throbbing ache. Wooyoung gently helped her stand and examined her head for any signs of injury. Fortunately, there was no blood. As they stood together, Hana and Wooyoung watched the red dragon fly east. The uncertainty of the situation hung in the air, and Hana's thoughts swirled with questions. She knew the dragons of her house, but this one remained a mystery.

"Who is that?" Wooyoung inquired, seeking guidance from the princess.

"I'm not sure," Hana admitted, her gaze fixed on the majestic creature. The distinct color of its scales indicated that it was neither her brother's dragon nor any she was familiar with. The dragon's roars reverberated through the air, stirring a mixture of awe and trepidation among the crew. The ship sailed on, leaving the enigmatic dragon behind, but the encounter left an unsettling feeling in Hana's heart. 

-----------

As Hana and Wooyoung stepped off the ship, the bustle of activity around the dock greeted them. The crew worked diligently to unload their belongings, preparing for the journey to the Red Keep. A knight, standing at the end of the dock in resplendent armor, caught Hana's attention.

"Sir Jaime," she exclaimed, her smile brightening at the sight of her old friend. Jaime turned towards her, his armor gleaming in the sunlight, a white cape flowing elegantly in the gentle breeze.

"Princess, welcome home," he greeted with a bow, his short golden blonde hair framing his face. His gaze shifted to Wooyoung at Hana's side.

"Ah, Prince Wooyoung, a pleasure to see you again," Jaime acknowledged, offering a courteous nod. Wooyoung reciprocated the greeting, expressing his gratitude. The trio began to make their way toward the Red Keep, the iconic structure towering in the distance. As they walked, Hana felt a mix of emotions—excitement at being back, curiosity about what awaited her, and the lingering sense of uncertainty after the encounter with the red dragon.

"I would like to stop by the training yard." She exclaimed, Sir Jaime acknowledged her wish with a nod of his head. 

"Will Yeosang be coming to Drake's Landing soon?" Hana asked. "I'm sure he'll want to. Depending on what happens." Wooyoung responded. She hummed in agreement. 

As Hana and Wooyoung strolled through the courtyard, the distant sounds of clashing swords grew louder, drawing their attention. A crowd had gathered at the center, indicating that Hongjoong was indeed putting on a display of his swordsmanship. The princess couldn't help but smile, knowing her brother's penchant for showcasing his skills. Approaching the gathering, they found a space at the edge of the crowd to watch. Hongjoong moved with grace, his sword a blur in the air as he parried and struck with precision. The onlookers were captivated by the spectacle, cheering and applauding with each impressive move. 

Sir Jaime, who had followed them, leaned in and whispered to Hana, "Your brother's skills with a sword are truly remarkable. It's a sight to behold." Hana nodded, her eyes fixed on Hongjoong's performance. Despite the troubles and challenges that had befallen their family, this display of skill and strength brought a sense of pride. The courtyard echoed with the clashing of swords, creating a symphony of martial prowess that filled the air. She watched as blocked and ducked every blow his opponent gave him. Sword fighting was a beautiful dance, a dance of steel and skill. Hongjoong's movements were fluid, and his opponent struggled to match his finesse. The crowd's cheers intensified as the spectacle continued. Hana couldn't help but feel a surge of admiration for her brother's prowess.

The sun bathed the courtyard in a warm glow, casting long shadows as the combatants circled each other. Each strike was calculated, and every parry showcased Hongjoong's mastery of the sword. The princess found herself lost in the rhythmic flow of the fight, the clashing of steel creating a captivating melody. As the duel reached its climax, Hongjoong executed a series of swift maneuvers, disarming his opponent with a flourish. The crowd erupted into cheers, and Hana clapped along with them. She exchanged a proud glance with Wooyoung, both appreciating the artistry of the sword fight.

Sir Jaime, standing beside them, nodded in approval. "Your brother truly has the heart of a warrior. It's good to see the strength of House Kim on display." With the duel concluded, Hongjoong bowed to his opponent and acknowledged the cheering crowd. Looking in the groups direction, his eyes widened. Onlookers tried to grab his attention, but he paid them no mind. He dropped his sword and rushed towards them. Hongjoong's genuine excitement filled the air as he lifted Hana in a tight embrace. The princess, caught off guard by her brother's exuberance, couldn't help but laugh at his enthusiastic greeting.

"Get off of me," she teased, playfully pushing him back to get a better look at his face. Despite the sweat and grime on his training gear, the joy in Hongjoong's eyes shone brightly. His longer hair and sharper features since their last meeting spoke of the time that had passed.

"You've grown, little sister," Hongjoong remarked, holding her at arm's length and studying her face. "I can't believe how much time has passed since I last saw you." Hana grinned, a mix of amusement and affection in her eyes. 

"It has only been a year brother." Hongjoong chuckled. "It's good to be back, though. I missed this place, missed you." He ruffled her hair, earning a mock glare from Hana.

"I missed you too, you oaf," she replied, a warmth in her voice. The reunion brought a sense of familiarity and comfort.

"Do you have more training to do?" Hana asked. Hongjoong shook his head. "That was the last of it, I need to start getting ready for the feast tonight." Hongjoong greeted Wooyoung with a shake of his hand. 

"A feast? For what?" Hana asked, curious. Her and Hongjoong walked towards a shed, in it were hooks and tables to place weaponry and discarded clothing.  He began to remove his gloves and put away his sword. 

"For your arrival of course, father wants to celebrate his daughters return."  Hongjoong continued to stow away his training gear, glancing at Hana with a smile. "The whole court is abuzz with your return. It's been too quiet without you, little sister." Hana joined him in securing her weapons, her mind processing the idea of a celebration. 

"A feast in my honor? I thought we save those for significant victories or weddings." Hongjoong chuckled, "Well, your return is a significant victory for the court, and who knows, maybe it'll turn into a celebration for something more in the future." As they exited the shed, Wooyoung followed them, curious about the upcoming festivities. 

"A feast sounds like a splendid idea. I haven't had a proper celebration in a while." Hongjoong threw an arm around Hana's shoulders, guiding her towards the castle. "It's settled then. We'll have a feast, and you, little sister, will be the guest of honor."

Hana grinned, appreciating the warmth of her brother's presence. "As long as there's good food and lively music, I'm in." 

Curious of her fathers location, she asked her brother "Where is father now?" Hongjoong replied, "In the throne room, apparently there's news on the stepstones." This peaked Hana's interest. 

 "Any idea what it is?" Hongjoong shook his head. Hana nodded, "You go ahead, I would like to pay him a visit. Sir Jaime, please show Prince Wooyoung where his chambers will be." 

"As you wish." He replied. Hongjoong left a kiss to his sister cheek and walked off with the other two men, their conversation she could hear in the distance. As Hana made her way towards the throne room, her footsteps echoed through the grand halls of the Red Keep. The castle had an air of familiarity, yet she couldn't shake the feeling that something had changed in her absence. The throne room doors were large and imposing, guarded by members of the Kingsguard. They nodded respectfully as she approached, recognizing the princess. Pushing the heavy doors open, she entered the room.

Inside, her father sat on the Iron Throne, a place of power and authority. It towered over the courtiers present, valryian steel blades spread to the steps of the seat. The room was spacious, with high ceilings and the banners of House Kim adorning the walls. She hid behind the courtiers, not wanting to cause a scene. She heard them whisper amongst themselves, as she walked, one of the comments made her heart stop momentarily. 

"I think it has to do with Choi San." San? A slight smirk played her lips as she continued walking. Once she found a spot, loud footsteps could be heard walking towards the room. There he was, it was truly him. He walked past the crowd, hair parted to the side, features sharp, and a crown made of shells adorned his head. He had a dark blue tunic on, a shield of armor covered his back and chest, his belt held a piece of weaponry that one of his hands rested on. 

As he walked with confidence, so did she in secrecy, matching his steps approaching her father. As a warning he was close enough, a guard pointed his sword out towards him, but San kept moving until the blade touched his armor. San looked at the guard, plucked out the weapon, and dropped it at his feet. The guard sheathed his blade and picked up the piece. 

"You wear a crown?" The King asked. "Do you also call yourself King?" Whispers filled the room. San adjusted his stance. 

"Once we smashed the Triarchy, they named me King of the Narrow Sea." More whispers rose from the crowd as they watched the event play out. 

"But I know that there is only one true king your grace." San moved to kneel down on one knee, head bowed as he did. "My crown, and stepstones, are yours." He removed the crown from his head and held it out as an offering. The King shared a small smile and looked past him before looking at him again. 

"Well, where is your father, Lord Jungchul?" San tilted his head back up. "He sailed home, to Coralrift." King Kang-Dae clicked his tongue. 

"Who holds the stepstones?" San was quick to respond. "The tides, the crabs, and two thousand dead triarchy members staked to the sand to warn those who might follow." Small gasps could be heard, shocked at the gruesome telling. The King stepped down, approaching the man. He reached down to take the crown from San's hand and examined it before passing it to one of his guards. San watched him with careful eyes, cautious of his every move. 

"Rise." Kang-Dae commanded. He helped San to stand, and once he did, he clasped a hand on his shoulder. Claps resounded as a sign of approval and respect for San's actions. The courtiers, nobles, and members of the court recognized the significance of this moment. The King's gesture was not only an acknowledgment of San's accomplishments but also a show of trust and favor.

"Your bravery has served the realm well," King Kang-Dae declared, his voice carrying across the throne room. "The Stepstones are a crucial region, and your efforts have ensured the safety and security of our interests there." San bowed respectfully, humbled by the recognition. The courtiers continued to applaud, and some even offered approving nods. 

"Your loyalty to House Kim and your commitment to protecting the realm do not go unnoticed," the King continued. San looked up at the King, his eyes reflecting a mix of gratitude and determination. "Thank you, Your Grace. I am honored by your trust."

"May you continue to serve House Kim with the same dedication and valor," the King replied, patting San's shoulder once more. The King, overlooking the room, spots his daughter, a smile plastered on her face and clapping diligently. 

"Yes, Yes. We thank the god's for this young man's brave actions. I would also like to thank them for bringing my daughter back home safely from her travels." As the King expressed his gratitude and acknowledged his daughter's return, the courtiers joined in the applause. The court was filled with a mix of formal acknowledgment and genuine joy at the reunion of father and daughter.

Hana, standing among the courtiers, smiled at her father. The bond between them had been strained in recent times, but the acknowledgment in front of the court served as a moment of connection. She felt a sense of reassurance that her presence was valued and recognized by her father, even amidst the complexities that surrounded their relationship. The King's words echoed through the throne room, and Hana curtsied in acknowledgment of the court's applause. The people of the court dispersed, until only a few remained. As she approached her father, she felt knots form in her stomach. San came closer into view, even from behind he was still captivating to her. 

"Ah, my daughter, a lovely surprise to see you in court." She smiled at him and accepted the hand he reached out to her before placing a kiss upon it. 

"it has been too long my dear," Hana let out a small laugh. "Yes, I suppose it has been." She finally turns to greet San. From far away, she could tell her had changed, but now, standing so close, she felt like she couldn't breath. His eyes were as striking as ever, sharp and feline like. His build had grown exponentially too, shoulder much broader and muscle prominent. San, turning to face Hana, met her gaze with a mixture of surprise and warmth. The courtly setting seemed to fade away for a moment as their eyes locked, the unspoken connection between them rekindled. He was dressed in armor, a testament to his newfound responsibilities and achievements.

"Princess Hana," San greeted her with a respectful bow, his voice carrying a deep, soothing resonance. "It is an honor to see you again after such a long time." The formalities of the court were still present, but beneath them, there lingered a familiarity that transcended titles and decorum. Hana nodded in acknowledgment, a soft smile playing on her lips.

"Lord San," she replied, her tone carrying a warmth that went beyond mere courtesy. "I hear tales of your valor and accomplishments. The stepstones must be thankful to have such a dedicated defender." San's gaze held a depth of emotions, and for a moment, it seemed as if they existed in their own world within the bustling court. The King, observing the interaction, offered a subtle nod. Sir Jaime, standing discreetly in the background, maintained a watchful eye on the proceedings.

"I appreciate your kind words, Princess," San replied, a genuine smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Much has transpired since we last met."

"Princess, you should start preparing yourself for tonight." As Sir Jaime redirected Hana's attention to the impending preparations for the evening feast, she couldn't help but feel a tinge of reluctance to part ways with the captivating gaze of Lord San. The exchange had been brief, yet it held layers of unspoken sentiments.

"Until tonight then, Lord San," Hana said with a gracious nod, masking the undercurrent of emotion that resonated in her voice. She turned gracefully, her gown swaying with each step, and followed Sir Jaime out of the throne room. San watched her departure, a mixture of admiration and longing in his eyes. The courtly affairs continued around him, but his thoughts lingered on the unexpected reunion with the princess. The echoes of their shared past and the uncharted future hung in the air, a subtle tension that promised more encounters to come.

[yoitsjay]

Fanart by: @s-sputnik-k

Hazard Response Protocol

Pairings: Hazard (oc) x fem jedi! Reader

Summary: in the past few months, so much had changed. His general had a padawan, who had become a general of sorts on her own, and now he couldn't get enough of her... seems she can't get enough of Hazard either, no matter how dangerous he can be.

Warnings: smut (minors dni), unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it) p in v, cunnalingus, cum eating? Hazard is so beautiful sigh

Word count: 4,411

“Commander? Commander!”

“Hazard's out cold!”

“Commander down!”

“Bullet Wound to the Chest and shoulder, we need emergency medical evac now!”

-

So much shouting, though it was muffled. He had been shot but he didn't even see the bullet coming which was rare. Now he was on the ground, he could feel sand between the plates of his armor, rubbing uncomfortably, to the point of overstimulating which was only making his pain worse.

Then he felt a light pressure on his chest, and soon his helmet was being pulled up and off his head. He winced as the light hit his eyes, and he looked away, but only for a moment, seeing none other than Arian.

Her hands were holding his face. They were soft, he noticed, comforting… he wouldn't mind dying in those hands, if that's what needed to happen…

“Hang in there Haz, I need you to push through.” Y/n ordered, your words weren't as muffled as the other men, Though before he could say anything else, his head fell back and he passed out, completely unconscious.

-

The medics had told you that Hazard would pull through. It was rare when he did get injured, but whenever it happened, he always survived. You just had to relax… though that was harder than it seemed, apparently, because you refused to leave your commander's side.

He had saved you, after all. And now you had to stay with him, to make sure he would pull through this…

-

Hazard had a dream.

Well, it was really more of a nightmare than anything… More screaming, blaster fire, but it wasn't towards droids, or separatists… but the Jedi that the clones fought besides.

So many Jedi, dead… an order that was impossible to ignore…

Hazard's eyes shot open and he sat up, clutching his chest and groaning In pain as he did so, and yet- he felt those soft comforting hands from earlier, pushing him down onto his back again.

“...ard… Haz…. Hazard- Hazard!”

Your voice went from muffled, to loud within seconds as she shouted his name, keeping Hazard pinned to the bed despite him trying to get up. He panicked, from the nightmare? Yes, and also from the injury, which he couldn't remember getting, or how he would have even gotten it in the first place.

Hazard finally looked over at you, his amber eyes staring straight into yours, and your hand once again was cupping his cheek, your thumb brushing against the star tattoo on his left cheek.

“Y/n?” He called out in a whisper, his voice cracking slightly even as he spoke. You just smiled lightly at the use of the nickname and you nodded your head, sliding your hand through his hair, pushing it back slightly.

Hazard's eyes fluttered closed, and he let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. Opening his eyes again as he gently grabbed your hand in his. “What- what happened?” He asked, genuinely addled.

You frowned for a moment, helping Hazard into a sitting position before you pulled yourself up onto the medical cot beside him.

“Well- you saved me.” you started, tone soft as you looked up at him, then looked away.

“We were in the midst of a heated battle when suddenly you grabbed me and threw me out of the way of a barrage of blaster bolts, a surprise attack from the separatists. You got hit a few times in the back when you threw me out of the way.” you explained slowly, furrowing your eyebrows as you spoke.

“Now you're here. And you need rest, Commander.” you added, looking back at the man, taken aback with how intensely he was staring at you.

“I'll always do that. Every single time.” He whispered, and your eyes widened. “I can't lose another friend, Y/n, especially you.” He added, and his fingers grazed yours. You tugged her bottom lip between your teeth, and you aced your gloved fingers with his.

“You wont- you won't lose me, Haz.” You assured softly, and you slid your free hand up to his face, and he immediately leaned into your touch. “get some rest. I'll go get you some food and something to drink.” You started softly, and slid off the medical cot.

Hazard’s eyes wouldn't leave your form as he watched you walk away, and as soon as you disappeared he let out a string of curses. He was getting attached, too attached… though how could he not.

You were smart, beautiful, talented and skilled, everything any guy could want in a woman, and yet- you were even more than that. You understood him in a way he never thought a person could, he had a bond with you that he wanted to explore, to expand.

But you were right… what he really needed was rest…

And rest he did, under the medic’s and your watchful eyes. He healed within a week or so, thanks to bacta patches and spray, and a couple bursts of your force healing, though he refused to let you do it more, knowing it took a lot of energy from you, energy you needed for fighting, to keep the peace.

But in those past weeks, Hazard had gotten to know you in ways he never would have dreamed of… he learned so many miniscule details, and remembered every single one. Like your favorite color, or a specific way you liked your food prepared, or clothes worn.

And he remembered that he promised to meditate with you today.

And he totally forgot.

“shit!”

Hazard immediately stopped what he was doing, paperwork could wait, and he wasn't useful if he couldn't even focus on one sheet of paper, which had sloppy and unorganized writing, unlike his normal sheet reports. He ordered some other officer to deal with it, and practically bolted out of his office on the jedi cruiser, injuries allowing, and slid through the hallways until he skirted to a stop in front of your bedroom door.

He didn't even have to knock, you had sensed his presence, and probably heard him too. So the minute he raised his hand, you were opening the door, and yet you weren't physically opening it.

Hazard sucked in a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart as he stepped inside your quarters, then softly shut the door behind him. He looked around, taking in all the details before he saw you sitting cross legged on the floor, looking up at him with a pointed expression.

“I'm sorry I'm late i-”

“You forgot.”

“I forgot…”

You chuckled softly, then patted the cushion in front of you. Hazard gently unclasped his armor, then set it in a neat pile on the floor by the bed, sitting down cross legged in front of you.

“We are going to try to relax your mind… so just repeat after me, it should be easy.” you mused, and Hazard nodded his head, watching you close your eyes and rest your hands on your knees before breathing in slowly.

Hazard followed her movements, resting his hands on his knees, closing his eyes, then breathing in.

And after a few minutes he was entirely vulnerable in front of you, a clear path from his mind to hers…

And you were curious about what you could find… so you weasled your way into his mind, his feelings…

Raw, unbridled emotion, fear, love, hate, brotherhood, warmth.

Home.

He felt like home.

Passion, intimacy…

Everything you ever wanted…

You opened your eyes, staring at Hazard who still had his shut, as he breathed in and out… then he opened an eye, after feeling your stare on him, and opened the other one as he tilted his head slightly. “What Is it?” He asked, and you blinked, once, maybe twice.

“Can I check your injuries?” you blurted out the question, and Hazard's eyes widened slightly. “Uh- of course?” He agreed, though sounded skeptical- or maybe just more curious than anything… your tone sounded- desperate from what he could pick out from your tone, but desperate for what?

You shuffled closer just as Hazard started to remove the upper part of his blacks, however her hands were quick to take over, pulling the tight shirt up and over his head with a swift motion that made the commander amused, albeit aroused.

“What are you doing, General?” Hazard asked, voice coming out in a broken whisper as you trailed your hands from his chest, down his well built abdomen to his thighs where you stopped moving, now gripping the clothed muscle of said thighs.

“I-”

You didn’t know what to say, but you knew that deep down there was this insatiable lust that you just couldn’t ignore, no matter how many times you masturbate, or try to relieve yourself, it just isn’t enough to satiate that need.

“Y/n…” Hazard spoke up again, loving the soft little gasp that fell from your lips as he cupped your chin in his hand and tilted your head upward so you were now looking up at him.

You didn’t want to wait anymore, and you knew no amount of words could do you justice like actions could. So you surged forward, wrapping your arms around your Commander’s neck as you firmly pressed your lips to his.

Hazard wasted no time in reciprocating.

His mouth was hot, he tasted like freshly brewed caf and fruits that you had gifted him a day prior, with a slight minty undertone as well. But he was passionate, and he was taking what he wanted, or at least more than willing to with the way he had his hands gripping your hips, pulling her up to sit on his lap as he grinded his hips upward.

This was what you wanted, feeling his hands, his body pressed against yours…

“What do you need Mesh’la?” Hazard grunted out through the sloppy kiss that you shared. You pulled your head back, staring at the clone with an intense stare before you opened your mouth to speak.

“I want- I need you, Haz, yout hands, tongue… everything.” you whispered. Hazard only smirked, and within seconds he had you on your stomach in your bed, knees keeping your bottom half suspended in the air in front of him. Hazard let out a low growl at the sight, and again wasted no time in shedding you of the annoying garments that kept your delicious body from view.

You let out a startled whine as Hazard ripped your leggins off your bottom half, leaving the fabric split in two and now piled on the floor.

“Kark, woman…” Hazard muttered, seeing how soaked you were through your panties. Hazard ran his fingers up against your clothed folds, hearing your soft and desperate pleas as you looked back at him.

“You’ll get what you need, ner serad. But I'll get my fill first.” He growled out, deciding that he was allowed to be a little selfish today, if only for an hour.

Hazard had his hands sliding up your torso next, dragging the upper half of your robes up and over your head, tossing them to the floor like he had with your leggings. Now he had your breasts in hand, he squeezed, pinched and groped them with his hands, listening to your needy whines, or annoyed little huffs, though the look on your face told him all he needed to know.

Hazard slid his hand back down your stomach, one of them settling on your hip for a moment while the other moved further down. He hooked a finger on the hem of your arousal soaked panties, and tugged them down until they were pooled around your ankles.

“Fuck.” He muttered again when he saw your bare, glistening pussy right in front of him.

Hazard then flipped you off your stomach, now laying on your back, but not before he tugged your hips closer to the edge of the bed where he was kneeling. He spread your legs wider, and placed them over his shoulders, trailing soft kisses down the inner plush of your thighs, his tongue darting out to taste your skin.

Then he started nipping, sucking as he got closer to the area you needed him most. His hot breath fanned against your folds, and you squirmed from above him, trying to push your hips closer to his face. “Hazard please…” you begged out softly, sliding your hand down, which quickly found purchase in his soft hair.

“I’ve got you, ner serad, just be patient.” Hazard hummed, and he slowly slid a finger up your folds, collecting your juices on the tips of his finger before he moved it down again, and slowly, very gently, slid his first digit inside of you, not missing the way your breath caught in your throat, before breaking like a dam as a long needy moan fell from your lips.

“Use your words, pretty girl, so I can give you what you want.” Hazard spoke up, still resting his head against one of your thighs, his eyes flickering between your pussy to your face.You sucked in a deep breath, and you tighten your grip on his head ever so slightly.

“I want your tongue on my pussy, Hazard, I want- hng-” Your words were cut off as Hazard dove in at your request, flattening his tongue against your folds before he licked upwards. His eyes fluttered closed as he tasted you, and he audibly groaned before he took what he wanted, and gave you what you had been begging for so nicely.

He devoured you.

Tongue, teeth, lips, fingers, he used all of them to make her feel like you were on cloud nine, and the stubble of his cheeks and chin just added to that sensation, so reaching that point really didn’t take long. Though behind all his eagerness, his need to please you and make you feel good, there was a twinge of inexperience, masked with research on how to do what he was doing.

You could tell, you could sense that buried nervousness, the doubt in his mind that he wasn’t doing good enough… you smiled lightly, tugging on his hair as you moaned out his name.

“Yes baby- god you're doing so good! You feel so good~” you cried out, clasping a hand over your mouth so you weren't too loud, you didn’t want to alert anyone else. But your words encouraged him, and that doubt in the back of his mind vanished as he pumped his finger in and out of you, slowly adding a second, and then a third, feeling your spongy walls stretch around his fingers. He groaned softly, opening his eyes to admire the blissed out expression on your face.

He then curled his fingers up, nailing that soft spot in your cunt which sent you spasming beneath Hazard, your back arching, pressing yourself further onto his fingers as you came with a muffled scream, having to press your face into the pillows just to muffle it.

Hazard slowed down, and slowly drew out your orgasm with the soft pump of his fingers, slowly pulling them out despite you whine. You jolted as his tongue made contact with your entrance, and you watched with hazy eyes as he lapped up your orgasm, and arousal, somewhat cleaning you up before he pulled away, leaning back on his knees with a coy grin.

Your arousal glistened on the lower half of his face and on the stubble that was growing, you smiled lightly, and just admired him, and his beauty, the pale splotches on his face, the way he looked at you with such adoration.

“Do you need some water?” Hazard broke the silence with a question. You hummed for a moment, lost in thought before you nodded. “Yes please.” you answered, watching as the clone rose to his feet with a nod, walking to the refresher, disappearing from sight for a moment.

When Hazard came back his face was clean, and he was holding a glass of water in his hands, which he then set down on the table beside your bed. You scooted yourself against your pillows and you grabbed the glass, taking a couple sips before setting it down again, and turning your gaze to Hazard, who was now sitting on the opposite end of your bed, and was lightly palming himself through his blacks.

You smiled a bit to yourself, sucking your bottom lip between your teeth as you looked from the bulge in his blacks, to his eyes, which bore tight into your’s. “I wan’t you to fuck me, Hazard, and take what you need from me… Then I want to get to know you more, if you’’ stay, and lay with me.” You requested softly. Your wanting to get to know Hazard more than you already had, surprised him, though he wanted to stay, to be around you.

So he nodded, then rose to his feet as he removed his blacks and boxers at once, kicking them off his ankles with ease, his cock springing upward, twitching as the room's air hit it. Like most if not all clones, Hazard was around 6 inches long, thick and veiny with the head flushed a deep red, pre- cum already dripping down the shaft.

You thought it was gorgeous, perfect, and all yours.

“Have you ever- um-” You blurted out, though you didn’t finish the question. Hazard chuckled lightly. “I've had hookups before, from 79’s and stuff like that… I had a lover once, but nothing since then, though.” He affirmed, and You nodded your head.

Hazard watched as you got ready to move onto your hands and knees, only to stop when you saw Hazard shake his head. “No- I want to see you when I bury my cock inside of you, ner serad.” He bellowed, and You felt a surge of arousal grow in your belly again as you nodded, and laid down on your back, adjusting the pillows how you needed, watching as hazard climbed onto the bed, and then onto you.

You let out soft little gasps, and hum’s as he started peppering kisses across your slightly sweaty skin, a groan cutting past your lips as he swirled his tongue around your nipple, and sucked for moment before doing the same to the other one, and then he trailed his kisses higher, but he didn’t leave marks, not this time, you had enough of those on your thighs.

“Hazard please.” you whispered softly, tilting your head to the side so you could catch his gaze. “Please what? Ner serad?” he was teasing you, with the way he slightly grinded his hips against yours, with the way his lips were inches away from yours.

“Kiss me, and ravage me.” you begged, your voice breathy as you stared into his eyes. He waited for a few seconds, and then his lips were on yours, swallowing the loud moan that left your lips as he shifted her hips upward, and slid himself inside. It was only the tip, and an inch or so, he was moving slowly, he didn’t want to hurt you, not ever, even if the nightmares wanted him too.

You slid one hand to the back of his head, your fingered slightly gripping the hair on the top. your other hand fell to the broad expanse of his shoulder, gripping tightly as he rocked his hips back and forth, pulling out slightly, only to thrust in deeper every time, until finally the swollen head of his cock hit your cervix.

The kiss was broken as your head fell back, though Hazard quickly chased after you, one hand firmly placed beside your head on the pillow, though he had brushed your hair out of the way so he didn’t accidentally tug it, and his other hand went to your leg, wrapping your left one around his hip, moving the second upwards so it was being held by his upper arm.

He pushed in deeper, and again your moans were silenced by his lips as he started to piston his hips against yours, the sounds of muffled moans, and skin slapping against skin filling the room, as well as the frame of the bed knocking against the wall with every one of his powerful thrusts.

“Kriffing- hell Mesh’la.” He groaned out, breaking the kiss for a moment so he could once again lick and kiss at your jaw, and neck, though after a moment he rose his head again, and shifted so he was leaning on his forearm rather than his hand, his chest now pressed against yours, bringing you closer than before.

You let out another string of moans, your grip tightening in his hair as you kept your gaze locked with his, seeing the milky sea of brown swirling in his eyes, making this a lot more intimate, if it wasn’t already.

“You feel so good, serad.” Hazard whispered, his eyes closing for a moment as he clenched his jaw, thrusting harder now which just made your cries of pleasure louder. “Shh ner serad, we don’t want the others to hear us hm?” Hazard asked, only receiving a whine in response as you tried to quiet yourself, which worked somewhat, he could hear your moans and your whines, but the walls of the room were able to silence them enough so they couldn’t be heard elsewhere.

“Good girl..” Hazard praised, nudging his nose against yours before he captured your lips again, sliding his spare hand to your thigh, squeezing it firmly in his hands as his thrusts started to get more erratic, needy.

“I’m getting close baby-” You whined, and Hazard nodded, letting out a soft curse as he groaned. “kark- me too baby- kriff.” He cursed, rolling his hips into yours.

“You gonna cum for me Mesh’la? Huh? Be a good girl and cum on my cock?” Hazard asked, and your lips parted, your eyes squeezing shut and your eyebrows furrowing as you nodded your head. “Yes.. yes! Fuck Hazard- im coming-” you cried, and wrapped your other arm around his neck, pulling him further against you, your lips smashing against his as you came, squeezing around him like a vice.

Hazard cursed, thrusting his hips one more time before he pulled out, sliding a hand down as he fisted himself the rest of the way, letting out a loud groan against your lips as white strings of his release painted your stomach, chest, and his hand.

Both You and Hazard were panting messes, and strayed in that position for a few moments as they caught your breath. You then released your grip on him, and Hazard sat up, admiring the paint job he had done on your stomach.

“Kriff…” He muttered, though he was smiling, genuinely smiling, which was a rare sight for him… though he always seemed to be smiling around You.

After a few more seconds, Hazard scooped you up in his arms and he carried you from the bed to the fresher shower, setting you down on your feet, keeping an arm around your waist as he started the water, waiting for it to warm up before helping you inside, following after.

He helped clean You up, and you cleaned him, some more kisses were shared, gentler than before, and eventually you and Hazard got out of the shower and dried off, now clean, and refreshed.

Hazard pulled his boxers back on, and you pulled on your own underwear and a shirt, climbing into bed and into Hazard’s awaiting arms. You let out a content sigh, resting your head on his chest for a moment as you listened to his heartbeat, you then pulled back, laying against the pillows as you slid your hands up to his face, your fingers tracing the edges of the pale splotches of skin. Your other hand was up a little more, and your pointer finger was gently gliding over the scar of his mechanical eye, hearing the low hum fall from his lips.

“How did that happen?” You asked softly, frowning as you noticed the same on his lips. “The Kaminoan’s did it to me… I came out of the tube defective in their eyes, with one blue eye and one brown, rather than both of them being brown. They were just going to scrap me if Shaak Ti hadn’t figured out their plan’s and stopped them… I was only a child, a cadet… So Shaak Ti took me under her wing, and protected me… My batch protected me too, but it wasn’t enough… The Kaminoan’s grabbed me, and they cut out my eye, and gave me this scar to make it look like a training accident,, told Shaak Ti that i cut myself by accident.” He explained softly, shaking his head as he sighed.

“They told me nobody would ever believe me if I told the truth, so I said nothing to Shaak Ti, just followed with what the Kaminoan’s said…” Hazard trailed off, closing his eyes for a moment as he sighed.

You frowned deeply. Moving your fingers away from the scar, now just holding his head in your hands. “I’m so sorry, Hazard.” You whispered softly, and he simply shook his head. “It’s fine… it happened in the past, nothing I can do to change it.” he mused, opening his eyes to look at you again.

“It isn’t right, the way some people treat clones… treat you, especially if they come out different, they should expect gene abnormalities, especially when you have to stretch a strain of Dna because the donor is dead.” You huffed, and Hazard nodded his head in agreement. “Yea… it sucks… but we were created to be expendable, to follow orders, and die for the republic.” He muttered, and again you frowned.

“You are not expendable, Hazard. Not to me.” you whispered, and pulled him close again… Hazard was more than happy to relax against you, resting his head on your chest as he wrapped his arms around your waist and sighed.

“Thank you, ner Serad.” Hazard spoke up after a while, and you hummed, running your hand through his hair.

“What for?” She asked softly.

“For caring.” he replied, though before you could reply, his soft snores filled her room, and you chuckled lightly, leaning down as you kissed his forehead, laying back as you too drifted off to sleep.

And for once, he had no nightmares.

☣︎

Hazard (oc) tag:

All:

@moomoog017

[galactic-star-bruiser]

Protected, pt.3

X: picks up after princess!reader was accosted by the man her parents set up for her to marry.

Part 1, Part 2, Masterlist

tags : @angel-with-a-heart @art2emily

“Princess...princess” a voice called after me as I walked briskly to my parents ship.

My father? No. My mother? No.

 A hired bodyguard cared more if I was okay.

“Listen, thank you for protecting me, I know its your job or whatever, but-“

“But what? Would you have rather me let him continue?”

“No... no thats not what I’m saying.” I sighed and turned to face him in the entrance of the large ship, moon light gleaming off his armor. “I just... I felt so helpless.”

“Well thats why your parents hired me, to help and keep you protected-“

“You don’t get it” I snapped, instantly feeling guilty for it and averting my gaze. 

I walked to my quarters and sat on the edge of my bed, head in my hands as sobs racked my body. 

“Princess...” a modulated voice rang out in a gentle tone. The mandalorian stood in the doorway of my bedroom, not daring to walk in uninvited. 

“Please” I begged through sobs, “I really don’t want to talk right now.”

With that he turned and walked back out to where we were sat earlier. 

Regret consumed me and any comfort he brought faded. 

I laid back on my small ship bunk, eyes blurry with tears as I stared at the metal ceiling that felt like it was closing in on me. 

I have always had men on my trail, unwanted advances and hungry eyes following me...but this was different. Cillian felt as though he had a right, at least the other men would cower under a cold glare or a sharp rejection.  He pushed and just took what he wanted.... I didn’t want to believe his words, that we were to marry, but how could I not after the strange way my father introduced us?

I groaned and rolled over, sounds of the Mandalorian’s fist colliding with Cillian’s face swarmed my mind. 

thwap. 

I wished that it was my fist. I wished that I was the one protecting myself. 

Maybe I really was just a spoiled little princess who didn’t know how to save herself

Three knocks on a metal door before it slid open.

“Princess?” questioned a stoic voice.

“I... I just wanted to apologize for snapping at you, it-“

“It’s okay. I understand.”

I shook my head and smiled at my shoes, “you don’t, but thats okay. I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that, you were just doing your job.”

“Is there anything else you need?” His voice was colder than before, a professional sound. 

“No” I mumbled before walking back to my quarters and falling into a restless sleep. 

///////////////////////////////////////////////

I woke to sounds of cutlery tapping on ceramic plates and the smell of caf.

I realized I had fallen asleep in last nights gown and I could still feel that mans fingers digging into my sides. 

It made me feel sick to my stomach. 

I turned the small knobs in the ‘fresher, water bursting to life. I was grateful for the older ship we had, sonic showers just never felt the same as boiling water flowing against my skin.

I got lost in the steam and my thoughts. I winced when I brushed the bruises left on my hips, and I winced at thoughts of marriage.

It seems I was so lost in thought that I didn’t hear heavy footsteps on the tiled floor outside of the shower.

“Princess...” An almost choked voice rang out. 

I covered my body as quickly as I could, grabbing the towel I had left for myself. 

“What are you doing?!” I screamed at the armored man who was avoiding eye contact in the clouded room. 

“I- I’m sorry... your parents, they needed you and I couldn’t, um-“ he stammered out. 

It was almost amusing seeing him this way. 

I sighed, “just get out, I’ll be there in a minute.”

I couldn’t help how red my face was, even after stepping out from the heat of the water.

“Mother, father... mandalorian” I greeted cooly, sitting at my place at the table. 

“Look who finally decided to join us” chirped my mother. 

Do parents only know one phrase?

I smiled half heartedly and watched as a man who worked for us served me a cup of Caf.

My thanks to the man were greeted with scoffs from my father who deemed those who worked for us as lower beings. I just glared, as if he needed to give me another reason to. 

“Married, huh?” I commented matter of factly.

My father choked, surprised by my question. He laughed, “Cillian’s father was meant to keep that under wraps, guess it’s too late now though. They are a good family, good reputation-“

“Yeah” I scoffed, “good at abusing women.”

The mandalorians grip on the table hardened at my father words but loosened after my comeback. Interesting. 

My father tutted, boiling my emotions down to stupid, young, behavior.

“What do you have to say about this, Mother ” I spat.

“Well dear, I- I think it’s a good idea. Good for strengthening our line.”

“So you’re happy with me marrying a creep? You saw the state in which he was left after last night. Are you even going to ask why?”

“Well, I-“

“No.... Of course you weren’t. If you must know,” I stood up to lift my tunic and show the bruising, “the man you chose gave me these beauties.”

My parents just looked down, pretending to not see something they didn’t like. Like always. 

The armored man stood up almost too quickly, damn near flipping the table. With a quiet apology he turned and stormed off, stiff backed and helmeted head straight. 

The grip I had on my mug almost caused breakage, but the rage I had for my parents was all too familiar. How could I even be surprised by this? They’ve been grooming me for this ever since I was born. 

With one last swig, I stood up from the table without a word. 

“Your chair...” My father commented.

“What, oh-.” I hadn’t pushed in my chair. “Cmon, don’t try to play parent now.”

With that I walked off onto the planet we were stationed at, green and lush. 

Endor.

I went to turn right for a better view and once again was inches from colliding with a beskar chest plate. 

“You have got to stop doing that, dude” I said with a small, slightly annoyed laugh.

“My apologies, princess. I was just following after I saw you leave the ship, just doing my-“

“Youre job, I know.” I laughed, “Sorry, you’ll have a boring day of following me around then...I was just going to go explore.”

“Are you sure that’s the best idea? Exploring a planet you don’t know?”

I scoffed, “good thing I have a bodyguard then, huh?”

Without thinking, I grabbed his gloved hand and dragged him into the wilderness. 

To my surprise, he never tried to let go. 

“Where are we going?” He asked, his modulated voice hinting at a gentler side of him I had never really seen. 

“I don’t know, just somewhere... away” I responded, looking up at him as I dragged his large frame behind me.

A rustle of leaves left me embraced in large arms, my back to his chest and my breath hitched. 

“Its okay, mando” I whispered, a smile playing on my lips,“just an animal”

“Din.” He replied.

“Din?”

“My name, you can call me Din. Din Djarin.”

He could’ve let go immediately, his firm grip loosened, but he held me for an extra beat.