#my daria fic

[kinetic-elaboration]

May 16: Daria/Jane, Kiss

Daria/Jane, ~900 words, ~35 minutes

In the same 'verse as this fic, but it also takes place before so like, post-canon, basically. This was inspired by a comment from/conversation with @riotsquirrrl on that fic about how D and J might have gotten together. I really liked it, so I decided to play around with it.

How can it be that Daria thinks it's cold enough for snow and yet Jane's not wearing anything as heavy as a real jacket? It's because Daria is from the South and doesn't understand what cold is or what almost-snow feels like either. So.

*

The forecast says snow flurries but the air feels like incipient heavy snow, as bitter-cold as it is when Daria opens the door and steps outside. These are the last flickering days of the year, the in-between time, the neighborhood dark by 5pm and illuminated only by streetlights. She stands in the cone of light from the Morgendorffer's front-door light and shrugs her shoulders up toward her ears, crosses her arms against her chest, and Jane pulls the sleeves of her red BFAC sweatshirt all the way over her hands.

She'd volunteered to walk Jane out but not all the way home, so there's no reason now to linger out here in the cold, breathing out faint misting gray breaths, thinking about how it won't really snow, not in Lawndale in December. It never has.

But Jane just shifts her weight from one foot to the other, glances out in the direction of the sidewalk and then back. "Hey--so." She mimics Daria's posture, crossed arms to hold in body heat. "Thanks for letting me hang out all night and avoid my house."

"Thank you for distracting me from having to spend time alone with my family." A half-joke, and Jane half-smiles at it. They're not so bad, really. She's just not so used to being home, as if she'd traveled back from Boston in a time machine and now she's in high school again, Quinn telling stories about the same teachers, the same gossip, the same football team. As if Daria's four months at Raft never happened. As if time had shifted in some jarring, abrupt way, but only for her. Only somewhere in her body, in her consciousness.

"Could be worse," Jane answers. Could be her place. Wind's moved back in, half-taken over. Trent won't last the year with him, though he hasn't admitted it yet. And Jane's mom has been away for six months now, the sort of absence that must make even Jane wonder if she'll ever come back, and as far as Daria has ever been tell, Mr. Lane has never really lived there at all.

Maybe familiarity is better. At least she has somewhere to come home to.

"What are you doing tomorrow?" she asks. She means it as a lifeline but selfishly, too.

Jane shrugs. "Sleeping. Painting."

"Busy schedule. Do you think you can find time for pizza?"

"I might be able to pencil that in." The corner of one side of her mouth lifts up again, a smirk but, because it's just them alone, there's softness to it. "I should go."

"Yeah."

For a while now, maybe a couple of months, Jane's been in the habit of kissing Daria on the cheek when they part ways. The reason why has never been obvious, and Daria has stopped trying to remember quite when it started, or what she thought of it then. Maybe Jane does it because separating always feels so much more weighty now, when they won't see each other for days or possibly weeks, instead of hours. Maybe the gesture comes from how much more often they touch, now: jostled together on the subway; falling asleep in each other's dorms; leaning on each other sometimes, when they study side by side in the same bed. Or maybe it's an art school thing, or just part of Jane changing and growing, in some more abrupt or sudden or meaningful way than she did in high school--some change in her that somehow Daria can't see in its entirety or fully understand.

She likes it, though, this new sort of ritual. Never knows how to respond, never initiates, but likes it. When Jane doesn't do it, she always thinks, well that's over now, and then is pleasantly surprised when the habit picks itself up again. Last time, she reached out after and squeezed Jane's arm, just before they parted at the train station in Boston, which was her attempt at speaking the same language back.

But this is Lawndale and it's different here. They're nineteen; they're fifteen; the world is very small, the neighborhood familiar even in the darkness. Flakes of snow too light to even count as flurries are getting caught in Jane's hair.

Somewhere in the direction of the neighbor's lawn, some sound like the movements of an aggressive squirrel rattles through the stillness. "I'll see you tomorrow," Jane says, and Daria turns away from the noise just as Jane leans in to kiss her cheek, and the kiss lands on the side of Daria's mouth instead.

She turns very slightly to her left, like a correction, but doesn't otherwise move. Doesn't pull back, doesn't press forward.

Interesting.

Jane steps back again, blinks a few times; her eyes are unusually wide. "Sorry about that," she says.

Daria shakes her head. "Don't be."

And then Jane's shoulders fall back down, and she laughs like she's letting out some coiled-up nerves. "All right. Tomorrow, then."

"I'll stop by."

Maybe she should be doing something else now, saying something else. Jane leans in one more time and this time kisses her cheek, like she'd meant to, and then she sticks her hands in the front pocket of her hoodie and starts off down the front walk. Daria stays outside and watches her, moving in and out of the brightest lights, until she disappears at last down the street.

[jazz-ers]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: The Veilguard (Video Game) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Rook/Emmrich Volkarin, Rook & Emmrich Volkarin Characters: Emmrich Volkarin, Rook (Dragon Age), Original Grey Warden Character(s) (Dragon Age) Additional Tags: First Time, Service Top Emmrich Volkarin, Sub Emmrich Volkarin, Age Difference, Body Worship, Praise Kink, Enthusiastic Consent, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Rook was previously a slave, so some trauma presents here Summary:

She should have believed him when he said he would worship her.

His every touch is like a prayer, writing holy words to fade the scars that mark her skin. His mouth is gentle, open, yet filled with such a genuine want that she is left breathless. Yet, she doesn’t feel consumed. His touch dulls the memories of other cruel, greedy hands whose exploration separated and disseminated her parts from her being. As Emmrich explores, opens her, and works away at her until she is undone, it is full of a promise whispering love with each and every stroke.

[mistylacrimosa]

Me last night when I tried to read a fic before bed.

Also me today when I tried to read a fic before getting out of bed.

[mechazushi]

So, I've got this KafHoshi fic I'm working on and it's starting to turn into a, like, 5 + 1 scenarios kinda fic in the vaguest sense of the situation. Which means I need to come up with senarios about Hoshina falling head over heels for Kafka and I listened to Super Massive Black Hole by Muse, immediately followed by Landmines by Sum 41 and all I could think about for a day was a situation where Kafka had a "Homer learns the bass" moment in his teens and his mom or cousin or something was cleaning out an old storage container and sent him his old bass guitar.

Not to overindulge, but basically my mind wouldn't let go of the image of Kafka singing SMBH, but in his Kaiju voice, which then morphed into Iharu begging on hands and knees asking if Kafka could learn the bass line to Landmines and be the bass to his lead guitar and play the song on his birthday in front of the Third Division with him.

And THEN my brain was like....

"Ok, but a Saturday morning cartoon about A rock band getting mystical guitars that transform them into humanoid Kaijus with super powers so now they fight crime just because and they have to keep the identity a secret from the police and Dollar Store Iharu leads the team and in the first episode show starts off with the band needing a new bass player so they start tryouts and a Kafka-like character shows up and the whole team isn't impressed with him until he starts playing an absolute sick riff and they let him join and DS Iharu's dad is the band's manager and he's a shit dad but he knows about he Kaiju Guitars/private hero identity thing (Cuz' he's the one networking the media to help keep it a secret) and there's a side plot about Kafka the Bass player becoming DS Iharu'd Better Dad and Reno's there too, but he's the "No enthusiasm" Guitar seller that sold them their mystic guitars and he had no idea about what the guitars do and the team rope him in once he and the rest find out KnockOff Reno had been chosen to help the people that became bestowed with the Kaiju Guitars and now KnockOff Reno is the team's Guy-In-The-Chair and HE gets his OWN character arc and him and Dollar Store Iharu start to fall in love and then you find out that Kafka had a secret love child that he didn't know about and then spend a season off screen fighting for custody and I've given this way too much thought already but doesn't it sound REALLY COOL because I could see it becoming one of those cult classic shows that were only made to sell toys, but it became one of the few that managed to transcend beyond that..."

It's never going to happen. but I do agree with myself.

[kardia-library-official]

I was slowed down by a sudden increase in length and many busy days of unrestrained summer fun, but I said it was coming, and here it is! A novella about art and feelings. Feat. Artsy Elf Sisters, Sad Wet Detective, and Manic Pixie Dream God. I'll fully admit that it was written for an intended audience of me, but maybe you'll like it too!

Extra special thanks to @darkacey, who sent the ask that started it all! ^_^

To celebrate, I'm gonna go finish that pile of musty old comics I've been reading, and maybe watch some Outlaw Star. <3

[dazesanddoodles]

player came in<33

[diaryofasugarfiend]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Daria (Cartoon) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Daria Morgendorffer, Jane Lane, Trent Lane, Jesse Moreno, Quinn Morgendorffer, Helen Morgendorffer Additional Tags: Mystik Spiral, Interior Decorating, raccoons - Freeform Summary:

They're powerscrubbing Trent's room again and also Helen feels insecure about her decor.

[weirdo09]

- intro post -

hey y’all, it’s ya boy girl cade <3

preferred names (in order) - cade/cadey/candece/cadece (cadece’s cool too tho)

age - demon (jennifer’s body)

sexuality - biromantic demisexual ^_^

blackity BLACK girl !!!

current interest: lolirock, anime <3

interests (currently as of 5/08/24|08/5/24|) - across the spiderverse, downtown mtv, daria, jordan peele movies (get out, us, nope), the boondocks, static shock

birthday - nov 6th (save it ya calendar, mooties)

scorpio sun ☀️ - scorpio moon 🌙 - scorpio rising ⬆️

fave musicians (as of 8/9/24|9/8/24) - latto, megan thee stallion, ravyn lenae, kali uchis, flo milli, raye, beabadoobee & many more

fave music genres - rap, r&b, rock, blues, jazz, indie rock and anything to cancel out the noise

interest 2 (hobbies) - reading, drawing, writing and sleeping

hope ya stay to browse my blog, bah-bye !

my last pinned post:

tags

#cade’s things - used for every normal post of mine

#cade’s thoughts 💭- same as cade’s things

#cade’s writing ✍🏾 - fic ideas n fics of mine, also prompts

#cade’s music 🎵 - sometimes used wit music reblogs (I be forgetting y’all)

#cade’s playlist 🎸 - my original playlists

#cadecore - things that give me

#cade’s music artists - music artist reblogs

#<333 - things that I love

#!!!! - things that I think are important or relatable

cade’s birthday 🥳 - comes around every November 6th

[fandom-friday]

Thank you so much to everyone that submitted recommendations this week! A comprehensive list of this week’s submissions can be found under the cut! Recommendations are organized by show/media, and any main pairings will be listed after the title.

💕 = 18+ content 🟪 = contains spoilers of a currently running show

Fics:

The Clone Wars: It Only Takes a Spark (Purge Trooper Cody x f!Inquisitor Reader) by @vodika-vibes 💕 Time After Time (Commander Cody x f!Reader) by @the-rain-on-kamino Theirs (Commander Fox x f!Reader x Commander Wolffe) by @vodika-vibes 💕 Don't Stop on My Account (Commander Wolffe x f!Reader) by @dickarchivist 💕 One Spotchka Too Many (Captain Rex x f!Reader) by @twistedsarchive Captain Rex x OC Nia Ficlet by @eternal-transcience 💕 The Last Word (Fives x OC Mal Darroch) by @ariadnes-red-thread Shattered Sunrise (Mace Windu x OC Danica Morrow) by @pickleprickle The Choices We Make, The Paths We Tread by lildropofmagic (AO3) The Number Lads by @jgvfhl

The Bad Batch: The Hostage by @kybercrystals94 Freeze Thaw by AnEchoInHere (AO3)

The Book of Boba Fett: 💕 This Tender Love (Boba Fett x f!Reader) by @daimyosprincess 💕 Worth the Risk (Boba Fett x f!Reader) by @daimyosprincess

Star Wars Original Trilogy: Revelations by shOokspeared (AO3)

Republic Commando: 💕 Off the Grid (Niner Skirata x f!Reader) by @the-rain-on-kamino

Batman: Lavender Blood by @starkskypines

Hetalia: Axis Powers: Grey Skies Over London by Gemini Star 01 (ff.net) Every Generation by Gemini Star 01 (ff.net) Gutters by Glassamilk (ff.net) Ditches by Glassamilk (ff.net)

Call of Duty: 💕 Riptide (Price x f!Reader) by @the-californicationist

Crossover AUs: Edward's Babysitting Service (Hetalia: Axis Powers X Fullmetal Alchemist Crossover) by orphan_account (AO3) Conversations With Patronizing Jerks (Hetalia: Axis Powers X Star Wars Crossover) by @basketofnova

Art:

The Clone Wars: Republic Troops 501st Poster by @boggsart Clone Wars Band Art by @pinkiemme Captain Rex Art by @vivaislenska Captain Rex Art by @kheimerios Captain Rex Art by @rackcty Mace Windu Art by @mudpuddless Fives and OC Elara McTavish Art by @aliettali OC Kazi and OC Daria by @eyecandyeoz (from I Yearn and So I Fear by @enigmaticexplorer) Clone OC Atlas Art by @orionfrommars

The Bad Batch: Bad Batch Selfie Art by @collophora Happy Ending Bad Batch Art by @mroddmod Hunter and Omega Art by @blxem1lk Hunter Redesign by @snw-faatuatua 🟪 (TBB S3) Hunter Art by @soularsss 🟪 (TBB S3) CX-2 Art by @notnyxxy Tech Art by @rexxdjarin Tech and Phee's Children OCs by @nightskyfoxyy A Place to Hide by @the-rain-on-kamino

Star Wars Original Trilogy: Young Boba Fett Art by @mrs2224

Jedi: Survivor: BD-1 Art by @eriadus

Batman: Batman's Boys by @inverted-typo

How to Train Your Dragon: Meatlug Art by @spacenintendogs

Call of Duty: Wraith by @bluegiragi

GIF Sets:

The Book of Boba Fett: Kia Kaha, Kia Maia, Kia Manawanui by @bobafettdaily

[pinkkkkat]

black velvet night

synopsis: nat didn’t mean to match with lottie. if it was up to her, she would’ve left this party the second she realized what she had done. in the end though, it wasn’t up to her, so here she was. (set in 1998 just so shauna’s costume is topical)

request by @cosmcgirl “can you write a fic about them at a halloween party where they accidentally show up wearing matching costumes and everyone assumes they’re dating and keeps teasing them?”

being forced to attend a highschool house party had not been a part of natalie’s halloween plans. those plans actually consisted of giving out what candy they had to the few kids running loose in the trailer park that night, and then eating the rest of it in comfortable solitary, sprawled on her bed and watching a movie maybe, if van had gremlins on tape and let her borrow it

but, when jackie taylor decides one, that she’s hosting this years rendition of wiskayok teens getting drunk for halloween, and two, that the team all has to show up AND dress up in solidarity, there’s not much nat could do to get out of it, weak protests dying in her throat at the lunch table when she saw the determined look in jackie’s eye

a costume though, was another matter. it’s not like she could afford to buy one from the actual halloween store in the mall, and it was also halloween like, today

nat sat on her front porch to smoke immediately after school, smiling at the little girl in the trailer across the way. she was dressed like a lady bug, and running circles on the lawn (read: patch of grass in between her trailer and nat’s) pretending to fly. the young mother came out moments later, dressed like a mummy, blood seeping between the bandages and everything

in a moment of impulse, nat asks if the lady has any fake blood leftover, and she does, and so thats that for halloween costumes. nat rifles through her closet (read: pile of clothes in the corner of her room) and finds a black dress, long sleeves covering her arms and a short skirt brushing the tops of her thighs. the figures she’ll go as a victim of some sort, it doesn’t really matter what as long as she has enough fake blood

so in the grimy trailer bathroom, nat pours a liberal amount of fake blood over her front, from her neck down. the goopy substance sticks her dress to her chest, deep red staining her pale skin. before she leaves the trailer, the incessant beep of van’s horn from her driveway hurrying her along, she dots two blops of the darkest blood onto her neck. a vampire victim, perfect, she thinks, maybe some guy there will be dressed as a vampire and she won’t have to stand awkward and alone while van and tai make out

van whistles at her when she heads out the door to her car (i’m a van x nat best friends truther btw)

“what are you supposed to be?”

“dunno really, i’ve got a vampire bite on my neck though” nat says, tilting her head to expose her skin to the girls in the front seat, but feels embarrassed and indignant when tai barks an incredulous laugh at her (tai, dressed as cruella deville, van, a dalmatian puppy)

“what? is it that dumb?”

“no no just— jesus” she laughs again, turning to up the volume on the radio, and they take off towards jackie taylor’s house

and so, twenty minutes later finds natalie nursing a red solo cup of something sweet and lukewarm, chatting with laura lee (little bo peep) about laura’s counter attack last game and how she can improve. it’s not awful, but nat is missing her candy-in-bed plans like you would not believe. the highlight of the night so far would have to be that jackie (barbie) had pregamed a bit too much, and was drunk enough to relinquish the music controls to shauna (not really in a costume but nat could tell it was supposed to be daria from that mtv program) occasionally, which was resulting in every few songs being that of the sort nat actually likes

she doesn’t realize that something is happening until a third person approaches to interrupt her and laura lee to ask nat where lottie is? and nat doesn’t understand because she hasn’t even seen lottie herself, let alone has she ever acted as lottie’s keeper

“i don’t get it” nat mumbles, and laura lee laughs sweetly at her

“well you are matching with her natalie”

nat gapes at laura lee, not really putting the pieces together. matching? with lottie matthews? no way

so when she turns around to scan the living room and lays eyes on lottie matthews, white blouse stained too with fake blood and tucked into black jeans, long legs highlighted by the platform doc martens she is prone to wearing, she sucks in a little breath. lottie has fake blood dripping from the edges of her mouth, running down her back and over smooth collarbones, disappearing under her shirt, and nat has a sudden urge to see how far it drips down

wait

what

when they make eye contact and lottie smiles at nat, eyes sparkling, nat can see that her already-pointy canines have been accentuated by false teeth to be longer and sharper, nat knows what’s going on. vampire and vampire victim, it’s so obvious that they’re matching nat doesn’t really know what to do besides smile back at lottie teasingly

“here to drain my blood?” she asks when lottie makes it across the room to her, and lottie laughs

“it looks like i already did”

they chat for a moment, but mari (inappropriately sexy nurse) appears nearly right away to drag lottie away. van promptly appears at nat’s side

“sooooooo,” the redhead starts, and nat pins her with a glare. ineffective, because van only laughs at the blush on nat’s face. “oh cmon nat, we both know you wouldn’t being victim to lottie”

and because nat is grown and mature, thank you very much, she stomps away to the kitchen to get another drink. she huffs to herself a few times while she mixes her drink, flush never leaving her cheeks. can you blame her? lottie was hot, and it just so happens that they’re wearing matching costumes. plus, she can’t seem to shake the image of lottie’s wet mouth on her neck, holding nat tightly to keep her still, and that isn’t making her any calmer

she’s shaken from her lottie-centric train of thought when a hand touches her shoulder. nat spins to look and is faced with travis martinez, coaches son, dressed as an unconvincing mario. look okay, nat has nothing against travis. he can be a little asshole sometimes, but he can be funny, and he doesn’t engage in the rumors about nat like some other guys do. the issue is that he’s always flirting, and nat does not know how to turn him down gently

“mario, really?” nat says, fully turning to face him, leaning her hip into the counter and folding her arms. there’s amusement in her eyes when travis rubs the back of his neck, looking embarrassed

“yeah, javi wanted to be luigi so” and nat smiles a little at this. javi is only young, and that’s the nicest nat has ever seen travis be towards him. so she’s happy to stand here and chat with travis, if it means a distraction from the fact that lottie is here somewhere, matching nat’s costume like they planned it and looking like someone nat is dying to follow home later, to be taken home by lottie like a stray cat the taller girl has grown fond of

travis, because he cannot help himself, crowds closer to nat as the conversation drags on. nat tries not to squirm, the alcohol on his breath and heat from his body’s close proximity making her itch for an escape. the moment travis extends his hand to take nat’s arm, mumbling something about ‘going somewhere more quiet,’ nat feels a pair of hands snake around her waist, pulling her back against a tall frame

it smells like coconut and cherry, and nat knows before she tilts her head up and to the side to see who’s there that it’s lottie. lottie has nat pulled against her, arms wrapped all the way around the blonde girl, hands resting on the front of her hip bones. nat’s hands come up to rest on lottie’s wrists instinctually, and travis fades from her vision a bit as she looks at lottie

lottie is staring directly at travis though, darkness in her eyes growing as she glares at him and his outstretched hand, paused midair at lottie’s arrival. travis rolls his eyes a little at the taller girl, and lottie’s hands grip natalie tighter. a flush overtakes natalie’s face, and she’s a bit appalled at herself. turned on over this alpha-male type dick measuring contest

“bye, travis” lottie says, and travis huffs before walking away, taking one backwards glance and nat and lottie, neither of which move to break the hold they have on each other. nat giggles a little when travis is gone, and can feel lottie’s chest shake against her shoulder blades indicating her own laughter

there’s a moment where neither girl moves, and the kitchen falls relatively silent, minus the dulled tune of sounds like teen spirit coming from the other room. nat distantly thanks god for jackie’s low alcohol tolerance and shauna’s elite music taste

she feels lottie shift, and a hot breath fans out over her neck where she had drawn the bite marks. a shiver runs the length of her spine, and she’s knows lottie could feel it

“you wanna be my meal, natalie?” lottie whispers in her ear, and nat is frozen, blood rushing through her faster than it ever has. lottie punctuates her bold statement with a firm, hot kiss to the side of nat’s neck, and then she releases her completely. nat immediately mourns her absence, head spinning. when she finally builds up the courage to turn around, lottie is gone from the kitchen completely, leaving her with her heard pounding under her ribcage, flush coating her face and down her clavicle, and a distinct print of red lipstick on her neck, over the fake blood and bite marks

later, when shauna gives her a look and says “jesus nat, you look like someone devoured you,” all she can do is grumble under her breath and think about lottie’s mouth

[kinetic-elaboration]

June 1: Daria/Jane, Winter Break

Hmmmmm, well. A continuation of this.

Daria/Jane, ~700 words, 23 minutes

Sap, sap, sap.

*

The Pizza King is full of high schoolers--a prime example of how they have changed, even though the world, or at least Lawndale, has stayed the same--so they agree that next time, they'll find somewhere else to eat. Over mushrooms and jalapenos, they reminisce about when they were that age, as if they were ages older. They don't talk about how, the night before, they'd accidentally kissed or what that means, and maybe if they don't discuss it, that means it isn't important at all.

If this had happened with anyone else, Jane would be the first person she'd tell.

They spend the afternoon together, stopping by all of the old haunts, feeling old. She notices all the new ways that Jane touches her now, things she'd taken for granted in a new location and feeling like a new self: how often Jane grabs her arm or nudges their shoulders together or even sometimes takes Daria's hand and squeezes it, if she wants to get her attention.

By the time they're back in their own neighborhood, early winter-dusk is starting to fall. The grass is cracked with frost that never melted. Daria has her hands deep in her pockets, her fingers much too cold. Jane seems reluctant to go back to her own place, but still declines an invitation to dinner. "But I'll see you tomorrow," she says. It's not even a question.

When she leans in, she doesn't press a kiss to Daria's cheek, like she usually does, but aims right for her mouth and doesn't miss. Daria kisses back. But it's only a moment. Feels not unlike the other kisses did: like just something they do now, an extension of three and a half years of friendship, of whatever this bond is between them she's long stopped trying to name. The gesture is affectionate, warm. Jane smiles at her after, before she turns around and walks down the drive again.

The next day is frigid by Lawndale standards and the snow flurries look like something that might almost stick. They hang out in Jane's old bedroom because it's where her easel is. But the house feels different now--emptier--even some of Jane's art is gone from the walls, because she took her favorite stuff with her, and it's up in her dorm room in Boston making that place look like home.

They talk about the Trent situation and Daria watches Jane paint and doesn't pretend to do anything else, because it's winter break and she's tired and lazy and this is the only thing she wants to do in the world. When Jane hits a snag, needs a break, she lies down too, on the other side of the bed. They're face to face and staring at each other.

"Jesse would probably move up to Boston with him," Jane says, very quiet and serious, grinding down the unsaid into actual words. "Max would say he would, then chicken out. Nick won't leave his kid."

"So no more Mystik Spiral." It feels heady to say, like vertigo. "Or they could take the whole family."

"Nick and his kid and his ex?" Jane raises an eyebrow.

"Mass exodus."

"I guess anything's possible."

Or it's just the end of an era. Or change is good for people, sometimes.

Jane reaches out and tugs on the lapel of Daria's jacket, like she's trying to straighten it. She doesn't wear it as often up at school--sometimes, but she doesn't need it like she used to. Jane shifts a little closer, and Daria twists the cords hanging down from the hoodie of Jane's sweatshirt idly around her fingers. Her heart's pounding maybe a little too hard, but it's just Jane, so she knows the feeling in her chest isn't nerves.

Jane shifts closer then and somehow they end up curled together, Daria holding her, until fairly soon Jane has fallen asleep. This has happened before, more than once, up in Boston. A part of her wonders why it never happened when they were still in high school.

Daria leaves not long before dinner, and only because her parents are expecting her. At the door to Jane's room, they both linger a long moment; Daria is thinking idly about how their fingers are entwined. Jane's goodbye kiss is on the mouth again. Maybe it lingers. And afterward, she squeezes Daria's hand before she lets go.

[stillmonsterz]

I just finished the Brave It Together parts, and omg, wtf is Ni-Ki up to?? I knew it was too good to be true with him, the way he was so lax and chill. I don't think he's a bad guy, I'm just wary of him now.

I think Jay and reader are a good pair because they're the same in lots of ways. They get something from the other that they need, which completes them and make them whole. Is she that way because it was a way to protect herself when younger, so it's just automatic? Their dynamic can be frustrating at times, but it works. She reminds me of Daria in a way. I like her friendship with Isa.

Despite all the shit that happened regarding Jake, I really don't think he raped Mina. We've heard things from multiple povs about it, and I just don't feel that he did that. That club may be spoiled, rich, entitled assholes, but I think they draw the line at something like that. Remember how upset Ni-Ki was when he told her what happened when he drove her home that time?

Jay Jay Jay...I'm not sure what to even say. I'm curious about why he's the way he is. It's like he's so angry about everything, and he's behaving in a way because he has nothing to lose? Idk. I should reread it so I can understand him better. I just hate that he treats reader and Isa horribly. Like why is one good enough to fuck but not show off? I can't wait for the next chapter/part.

I've been saving this one. I hate letting long asks like this leave my inbox lmao.

Y/N's past is probably going to stay ambiguous. I try to leave hints here and there, but I want a lot of my fic to be left to open interpretation. It's funny you mentioned Daria. Never watched it, but from what I've seen they are very similar (flat affect, societal disconnect, style of dressing). Jay and her are similar, and I'll go into that more in the final part trust.

I've spoken to my friends and they said that they thought Jake did it, so it's interesting to hear the opposite perspective. I'll never reveal what really happened, so it's up to you.

Isa is the biggest victim in all of this imo. Y/N went through a lot, but Jay coerced Isa into public sex and her new friend has been sleeping with her man for weeks. It's rough for her.

Thank you so much for leaving your message, and I really hope you enjoy this fic.

[tcwmatchmakingau]

Everybody Hates Neyo Round 2: Matchmaking Boogaloo

A/N: This is a standalone sequel to “Everybody Hates Neyo,” (NSFW) by @dystopicjumpsuit​ (that’s me), and “The Blacklist,” by the brilliant @blueink-bluesoul​, who also generously let me borrow the character of Daria Trace (THANK YOU!). You don’t need to read those fics to understand this one, but you should because they’re great and they provide more background. I converted the Reader-insert into an OC because to be frank, she’s a piece of work, and I didn’t want to project that onto my readers. That said, as always, feel free to insert yourself into the story if you prefer; I haven’t described the OC beyond being a woman with hair long enough to pull.

Pairing: Commander Neyo x the Admiral (formerly Fem!Reader)

Rating: M | 18+ | Minors DNI

Wordcount: 6.5K (I know)

Warnings and tags: toxic, obsessive behavior; SO MUCH SMUT; hatefucking; rough sex; oral sex; PIV; hair pulling; biting; sex under the influence of alcohol; Neyo and the Admiral being absolute menaces to society

Disclaimer: Let me just put on my Auntie DJ hat for a second. *ahem* This is a work of fiction intended for entertainment only. Please do not take this as a guide to romance or a healthy relationship. Neyo and the Bad-miral are flawed characters in a wildly problematic relationship with more red flags than the Fire Nation. Enjoy!

Matchmaker extraordinaire Daria Trace was not accustomed to failure. When she applied her considerable intellect to a problem, she did not stop until she formulated a solution. Which was why her now-99% matchmaking success rate galled her so intensely. In all her years of matchmaking, she had never encountered a client so stubbornly determined to thwart her efforts as Marshal Commander Neyo. After twelve failed matches—one of which involved a call from an infuriated woman demanding to know “why the kriff you thought I was a good match for that sociopath”—she had reluctantly conceded defeat.

The blacklisting of Commander Neyo from the Right to Love Matchmaking Service spread like wildfire through the GAR gossip channels. Most of the troopers thought it was hilarious; others insisted that he’d finally gotten what he deserved. In fact, the only people who seemed to have any sympathy for Neyo were Commanders Bacara (to be expected) and Fox (somewhat less expected). And when Fox reached out directly to Daria and asked her, as a personal favor, to give Neyo one more chance, she agreed. One more chance, and ONLY to give her an opportunity to get that track record back up to a perfect 100%.

She glared irritably at Neyo’s file and clicked her stylus three times, twirling it between her fingers. The man was impossible. It was no wonder he’d turned to RTL for help finding a partner; any woman in her right mind would run in the opposite direction the minute she looked into those blank, frigid eyes. She shuddered involuntarily. Shark’s eyes. Daria had made a few discreet inquiries after he’d first signed up for the service, just to make sure she wasn’t about to set up some unsuspecting match with a serial murderer. Without fail, every single answer said the same thing: he was an ice-cold sonofabitch, but he had a strict code of honor, and no, he wasn’t a serial murderer. Probably.

She sighed and tossed his file to the side, to be revisited some other day. He was her most difficult client, but by no means was he the only problematic match candidate, and she had a small stack of what Blizzard liked to call The Hopeless Casefiles waiting for her to review. Just thinking about Neyo’s case had given her the beginnings of a spectacular tension headache, and she flipped through the folders quickly, looking for one that was a little less challenging. As she skimmed the stacks of flimsi, her eyes came to rest on one name: Reeda Wai’yen.

Now there’s a thought.

Daria was sure that Reeda was a lovely woman, despite all evidence to the contrary. She was just very… intense. Like Neyo, she had chewed through several potential matches, and the most frequent word that appeared in her failed matches’ post-date surveys was “intimidating,” followed closely by “terrifying.” Daria had sniffed disdainfully that those particular matches simply couldn’t handle a strong woman; however, she had to admit that after several months of trying, she had not been able to find a perfect match for Reeda. She pulled Neyo’s file and laid it out next to Reeda’s. As she compared their backgrounds and preferences, she became more and more convinced. This could work. Given their personalities, it might well be the best possible outcome for society at large if they were both removed from the dating pool. And if it happened to close out her two most annoying files, well. That would just be the cherry on top of her perfect-track-record sundae.

A timid knock sounded on Reeda’s office door.

“Come,” she called shortly.

Her assistant, Lissi, poked her head into the room. “Sorry to bother you, sir, but you’ve received a comm from RTL Matchmaking.”

Reeda cursed. She was up to her ass in flimsiwork, and she was meeting with the Senate Task Force on Galactic Security in ten minutes. She did not have time for this now. 

“Take care of it,” she ordered.

“Sir?” Lissi asked, her wide, startled eyes giving her a distinct resemblance to a terrified ash-rabbit. 

“Just take care of it,” Reeda repeated, tamping down her irritation at being questioned. “You know my schedule better than I do. Set it up. Somewhere nice—somewhere in the Federal district. I don’t have time to deal with traffic.”

Lissi blinked, nonplussed. “Don’t you want to see who you matched with?”

“No time,” Reeda said, rising to gather her materials for the meeting. “Just put it on my calendar, and I’ll be there.”

Three nights later, Reeda sat in the restaurant at the top of the tower where her penthouse was located, waiting for her mystery date to arrive. She had to commend Lissi’s efficiency in choosing the venue; the only traffic she’d had to endure was at the lift. And it was a lovely restaurant, she had to admit, with stunning views of the Coruscant cityscape. She had only eaten here once since she’d bought the flat, usually opting to have food delivered to her office at the Republic Center for Military Operations as she worked late into the night.

She had resisted the urge to bring her datapad with her to the restaurant, knowing that if she did, she would inevitably get sucked into work, but now she wished she’d taken a moment to review the file from RTL. It wasn’t that she thought all clone troopers were interchangeable; far from it. She had worked closely with them during the war, had fought by their sides, and she had found them to be brave, competent, and loyal. They were also notoriously attractive, but she was a professional, and she was their superior officer, and she had never allowed that line to become blurred—except on one memorable and highly regrettable occasion.

She had had no time for a personal life during the war, but now that it was over—well, to be honest, she still had no time for a personal life. Which was exactly why she had reached out to RTL; it was the perfect solution. She didn’t enjoy solitude. She wanted companionship, and maybe even something more. But she needed a partner who would understand the demands of her career, and nobody understood the burden of duty better than the clones. Now that she had separated from the GAR and returned to her post in her home planet’s military defense force, the rules regarding fraternization no longer applied to her.

She hadn’t bothered to review the file because she’d learned from the previous several failed dates that a promising file was no indicator of compatibility. Still, as she waited for her date, who was now seven minutes late, she wished she’d at least checked to see if he had any identifying marks or tattoos that would make him easier to spot. To be fair, though, the few clones present in the restaurant were already paired up with other diners.

Her stomach rumbled. She hadn’t intended to skip lunch, but she’d had back-to-back meetings with the joint chiefs of the Core Worlds Defense Alliance and the senate appropriations committee, and one thing led to another. The service droid had delivered a basket of fresh, hot bread rolls, which she had heroically resisted for the first six minutes past the scheduled start of the date, but now her resolve began to crumble. If her mystery date didn’t have the basic courtesy to be on time, by the Force, he wouldn’t have a leg to stand on if she ate all the bread before he arrived.

She buttered a roll and took a small bite. She couldn’t suppress the groan of relief at the buttery, yeasty goodness, and she quickly polished it off, then picked up another. She had just begun to butter her third role when the unmistakable voice of a clone spoke next to her.

“Admiral.”

She turned automatically, a smile just beginning to form on her lips, when she caught sight of a familiar set of numbers tattooed on a handsome, arrogant face.

“Oh, no,” she said with disgust. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same question,” Marshal Commander Neyo replied contemptuously. “I have as much right to be here as you do.”

“I’m on a date,” she snapped.

He looked pointedly at the empty chair across from her. “Looks like your date has a strong sense of self-preservation. Probably took one look at you and ran for their life.”

“He’s just a little late,” she said, tilting her jaw at a haughty angle to hide the flash of hurt at his words.

“That must kill you,” he said with a mirthless chuckle. “I remember the time you made a Jedi padawan cry for being three minutes behind schedule.”

“There were barely tears. Do. Not. Sit,” she gritted out as he made himself comfortable in the chair across from her. He picked up one of the remaining bread rolls and took a large bite, and she sighed. “Why are you here, anyway?”

“It just so happens, I am also on a date,” he said, mumbling around the bite of bread.

“Oh?” she wrinkled her nose at his table manners. “And who’s the unlucky lady?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. Some civvie named Reeda.”

Her hand tightened dangerously around her butter knife. Neyo’s eyes dropped to the blade, and he smirked.

“Disappointed?” he asked.

“You could say that,” she said, grinding her jaw. “I’m Reeda.”

He choked on his bite of bread and wheezed a bit, pounding his chest to clear his airway. Alas, he survived.

“What?” he sputtered.

“You didn’t even bother to find out my first name after you were inside me?” she demanded. Her sharp tone attracted attention from the surrounding diners, and she heard a few quiet titters from the tables around her, but she was too irate to care.

“You didn’t even bother to find out who’d be eating dinner with you?” he retorted.

“Don’t pretend you aren’t just as surprised as I am,” she snapped. “Didn’t you read the file?”

“I didn’t get a file, just a call.” He grunted. “Apparently, ‘beggars can’t be choosers,’ and I was lucky to get a match at all.”

“Why am I not surprised?” she mocked.

“Careful, Admiral. Don’t forget they matched you with me.”

“I would be insulted if it weren’t so obviously a mistake. I can’t say I’m impressed with their performance thus far.”

“For once, I agree with you,” he said. “You’d have to be a special kind of incompetent to think we were a good match.”

The service droid approached the table and asked, “May I take your order?”

“He’s not staying,” Reeda cut in.

“I’ll have the bantha filet,” Neyo replied, ignoring her. “Bloody.”

He turned to her and arched his brows. The droid waited expectantly.

“I’ve suddenly lost my appetite,” she lied.

Neyo’s mouth twisted, and he huffed a breath through his nose. “The admiral will have the roast porg. And a bottle of Alderaanian red.”

The droid nodded and ambled away. Reeda glared at Neyo.

“I don’t eat meat, you presumptuous ass,” she said.

“Liar,” he said. “Unfortunately, the souls of the innocent weren’t on the menu, so I had to settle for your second-favorite meal.”

“At least you’re safe, since you obviously have no soul and you’re definitely not innocent,” she said in a pleasant tone.

Damn him for being right about the porg, though. How did he know?

The wine arrived, and he poured a generous glass for each of them. She didn’t toast; just downed half of it in a single swallow. Neyo sipped his and leaned back in his chair to observe her. His sleek, severe hair and the large tattoo on his cheek made him look menacing as hell, but it was his eyes that made brave men take a step back. She didn’t know how it was possible for his eyes to be that unnerving. Gods, why did he have to be so handsome? What a waste of perfectly good Fett genes to have a personality like that.

“Did you stay just to torment me?” she asked when the silence stretched beyond the limits of her endurance.

“And because I heard the filet was good,” he said affably. “What are you even doing on Coruscant? I thought you’d scuttled back to whatever hellhole spawned you.”

“Kuat,” she bit out from between clenched teeth. “I was assigned to work as our military liaison on Coruscant.”

“Couldn’t stand having you back on the planet?” he derided. “I don’t blame them.”

“I need to use the fresher,” she said, flinging her napkin down on the table with excessive force. “Feel free to die while I’m gone.”

She strode purposefully through the restaurant, her face set in a steely mask. She knew she was drawing attention from other patrons, but if she sat at that table and listened to Neyo needle her for one more second, she was either going to stab him or burst into tears. She pushed through the refresher doors and went to the sink, washing her hands just to give herself something to do. The face that stared back at her from the mirror was Admiral Wai’yen, not Reeda. Stern. Unyielding. Unaffected.

She swallowed, and her face crumpled. Tears of rage stung her eyes, and she ruthlessly wiped them away with her clenched fist. A soft noise at the door startled her, and she whirled to face the intruder. Horror flooded her. It was Neyo, and he’d caught her crying in the ladies’ room.

“What the kriff do you think you’re doing in here?” she demanded icily. “Get out.”

He stared at her for a moment, and then he locked the door. Stalking across the room, he cupped her jaw in his hands and tilted her face to get a closer look. She tried to pull away, to put her Admiral Wai’yen mask back in place, but then his thumb stroked softly next to her eye, wiping away the tear that had breached containment. She gasped involuntarily, and his lips collided with hers.

Reeda was so shocked that for a moment she went perfectly still, but then Neyo flicked his tongue across her lower lip, and her body remembered how to move. She thrust him away and stood back, glaring at him. His chest rose and fell quickly, and those cold eyes blazed with a dark and covetous fire. She raised a hand to her lips and felt the slickness left by his tongue. Something snapped inside her. She took two hasty steps forward, and she was in his arms again, his hands rough and dominating on her body as they consumed each other with a kiss that teetered on the edge of violence. 

Lips, tongues, teeth crashed together. He clasped her tightly against his hard, unyielding body, and unbidden, the memory of him deep inside her came flooding back. He gripped her ass and ground his rapidly stiffening cock against her. Her reaction was electric. She rolled her hips, nearly climbing him in desperation. He dropped his mouth to her neck and kissed her once, roughly, and then to her breast, yanking aside her dress as he closed his teeth on her soft skin. He picked her up by the waist and set her on the edge of the sink, dropping to his knees between her thighs, rucking up her dress around her hips, and then his mouth was on her.

He didn’t even bother removing her underwear, as though he couldn’t wait another millisecond to taste her. He licked and sucked on her through the fabric, his mouth working frantically. Her body jolted and trembled at the effort of staying upright, and then his tongue snaked past the lace and dipped into her, smooth and hot and wet. He let out a vicious growl and grabbed her hips, settling her thighs over his shoulders, and then he pulled her off the sink and thrust her against his face as his tongue speared over and over into her cunt. She yelped and scrambled to brace herself with her hands, her arms shaking with exertion.

She couldn’t come like this, but kriff, it was hot to feel Neyo throw her around with such ease, like she was his own personal toy. How many nights had she fucked herself to sleep to the memory of their first encounter? The way he’d lifted her bodily off the ground and thrust into her, supporting them both with those powerful thighs—it played on a loop in her head for months, long after the bite marks and bruises had faded.

His tongue slid out of her cunt and swirled around her clit, and her legs spasmed around his head. She couldn’t come like this. Could she? All the muscles in her body began to tense, and her pelvis began to rock rhythmically against his face. Shit, I’m going to come. No sooner had the thought formed than Neyo dropped her back onto the sink and pulled away from her.

“No!” she wailed. “You bastard, I was right there!”

He shot to his feet. “Shut. Up,” he bit out, and kissed her punishingly hard. “Do you want the whole Federal District to know what we’re doing?”

He pulled her head back to expose her throat, and he scraped his teeth across her delicate skin. She felt his other hand fumbling in between them. Within seconds, his cock was free and thrusting against the scrap of lace that still covered her. She wrapped her legs around him and pulled him against her, determined to find the stimulation that she needed to reach completion.

“Get inside me,” she hissed.

“You aren’t calling the shots any more, Admiral,” he growled. “You don’t get to give commands.”

“I hate you,” she breathed. 

“And yet here you are, begging for my cock,” he said coldly. 

“I do not beg,” she said. “Ever.”

He released her hair and pried her legs away from himself, then took a step back. “You get nothing until you admit that you want me. I’ve waited a long time for this. I can keep waiting.”

“What the kark is that supposed to mean?” she demanded, sliding off the sink to stand in front of him.

“It means you give me what I want, or I walk out that door right now and you can figure your own shit out.”

Was this his twisted kriffing way of asking for consent? Because she was pretty sure she’d covered that when she all but ordered him to fuck her.

“Fine,” she said in a low voice. “I…” She nearly choked on the words, and Neyo’s intent gaze pinned her in place. “I want you.”

He wrapped his hand around the back of her neck and pulled her in for a bruising kiss, then spun her around and bent her over the sink. He pulled up her dress, yanked down her panties, and thrust into her. She muffled a whimper at the intrusion and squeezed her eyes shut as she adjusted to the stretch. He wrapped his hands around her hair and jerked her head up.

“Open your eyes. I want you to watch,” he ordered.

She complied, shocked when she saw her own ravaged face in the mirror as Neyo pounded into her from behind. Her makeup was smeared, her hair was a wreck, her eyes were dilated with lust, and a sheen of sweat glistened across her skin. She flicked her gaze to stare at Neyo. His face was twisted into a scowl, and if she had any sense at all, she would have been frightened, but she was in too deep to care. His hard eyes met hers in the mirror, and his jaw tightened.

He released her hair and slid his arm around her body, between her breasts, to wrap around her throat, and he lifted her upright so he could whisper in her ear.

“Do you know what you did to me?” His voice was hoarse and anguished. “Every time I kissed someone, all I could taste was you. Every time I hooked up, all I could remember was this perfect fucking pussy.”

He pounded into her with bruising intensity, furiously working her clit with his free hand. Her head began to throb. This was so wrong. He couldn’t be saying what she thought she was hearing. She was confused from the lack of blood flowing to her brain.

“I got matched twelve different times, and not one of them was right, because not one of them was you,” he snarled. “You cursed me. You haunt me.”

The world began to darken around the edges as her eyes drifted closed, and he released her throat and forced her head to the side so she faced him.

“Look at me when you fucking come,” he ordered.

She gasped, and he clamped his hand down over her mouth to muffle her scream as he wrenched an orgasm from her body. He didn’t let up, chasing after her at a frenzied pace that rocked her entire body as she sobbed into his hand.

“Inside?” he asked roughly.

She nodded and whimpered as tears blurred her vision and spilled down her cheeks. He came with two brutal thrusts, and she felt the hot rush of his release deep inside. He shuddered against her hair as his cock softened and slipped out of her. At last, he loosened his grip and turned her to face him as he leaned against the wall for support. He wrapped her in his arms and stroked her hair as she rested her head against him.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” she sighed as she licked his neck, unable to resist the temptation of tasting his skin.

“I’m sure there’s an official list in my GAR file,” he said, pressing a soft kiss to her temple.

Reeda cleaned up quickly while Neyo went back to their table so they wouldn’t be spotted leaving the refresher together. Her hairstyle was destroyed, so she hastily repinned it as well as she could, and then wiped off the mascara that smudged heavily beneath her eyes. A quick reapplication of lipstick, and she almost looked presentable—with the minor exception of her missing panties, which Neyo had silently retrieved from the refresher floor and tucked into his pocket while maintaining strong eye contact.

When she returned to the dining room, Neyo waylaid her with a ferocious expression. Force, what is he scugged about now?

“We’re leaving,” he said, taking her by the wrist and pulling her toward the exit. A few quiet murmurs whispered around the room as he dragged her behind him.

“What?” she asked, tugging her wrist to no avail. “Why?”

“The karking droid gave away our table,” he said.

“My deepest apologies, Admiral,” the droid said. “We can locate another table if you would care to wait.”

Reeda assessed the room quickly. Every table was occupied, and none of the diners were anywhere close to being ready to leave. Moreover, at least half of the customers were eyeing her and Neyo with expressions ranging from amusement to overt curiosity.

“No,” she said. “Have the food delivered to my flat.”

“Right away, sir,” the droid replied, waddling off to relay the order to the kitchen.

Neyo looked at her inquisitively. “Your flat?”

“I live in this building,” she said. “Come with me.”

She was keenly aware of the many sets of eyes that tracked their hasty exit, but before long, she led Neyo into the private, secure lift that opened directly into her penthouse. He stood silently next to her on the trip up, watching her with an inscrutable gaze. She tried not to give herself an opportunity to second-guess her decision to let him into her home. Strange, she thought, how this seemed more intimate than allowing him inside her body. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d allowed another person into her home. 

The lift doors opened, and he followed her into the flat, pausing long enough to remove their shoes, then looking around curiously.

“Lived here long?”

“A few months,” she said. “I bought it when I found out I’d be stationed on Coruscant long-term.”

“It’s nice,” he said. “Very… clean.”

She laughed. “You mean sterile. I haven’t had time to do much decorating. I’m hardly here except to sleep, anyway.”

He nodded. “I thought I’d have more time for hobbies after the war ended, but now it’s just nonstop—”

“Red tape and committees,” she finished with a sympathetic grimace. He shot her a wry grin. She didn’t think she’d ever seen him smile before, and it did uncomfortable things to her brain. She tried not to think about it, instead asking, “What kind of hobbies? Aside from plotting my slow death, obviously.”

“Oh, you know,” he said vaguely. “Torturing small, adorable creatures; sharpening my vibroblade collection; collecting stamps; that sort of thing.”

She blinked. “I can’t tell if you’re joking.”

He regarded her steadily for a moment, eyes unreadable as ever. “You really think the worst of me, don’t you?”

She was taken aback. “I—”

Her reply was cut off by the chime of the door. The food had arrived, thank the Force, which gave her a moment to stop herself from blurting out her immediate thought: You’ve never given me any reason to think anything else.

Neyo was a competent soldier—brilliant, in fact. There was no question that he had one of the finest tactical and strategic minds in the GAR. But as a person? From the moment they’d met, he’d been antagonistic, sardonic, cold. He’d challenged her authority and provoked her in meetings. He’d only treated her with the barest semblance of civility in public, and in private—Well. They both knew how things went when they were alone.

The service droid rolled a cart into the dining room and began setting up the meal.

“Can I get you a drink?” she offered Neyo. “I don’t have any Alderaanian red, but I do have Cheedoan whiskey.”

“The good stuff,” he replied. “I’ll have a glass. Thanks.”

The droid finished setting up and shuffled out the front door as Reeda poured two generous glasses of whiskey at the wet bar.

“Ice?” she asked.

He didn’t answer, and when she turned around, she nearly dropped the glasses in surprise to find him standing close behind her. He locked his eyes on hers and never looked away as he took one of the glasses and drained it in a single swallow, then set it down with a decisive click on the counter. Her heart began to pound as he loomed over her. He traced his fingers from her elbow up to her wrist, and then he wrapped his hand around hers and raised her glass to her lips. 

The whiskey burned a fiery path across her tongue and down her throat. A few droplets escaped and splashed coldly on her chest. Neyo didn’t let up until she emptied the glass, and when she was done, he leaned down and sucked the liquor off her skin. His hands dropped to her hips and slid up her back as he located the zipper of her dress and dragged it down excruciatingly slowly, and all the while, his mouth moved across her skin. He slipped the straps down over her shoulders and let the dress fall to the floor, and then he kissed a path along the lacy edge of her bra.

“Thanks for the matched set,” he said, unhooking it and pulling it off.

“Those were expensive, asshole,” she said unsteadily.

He didn’t reply, but she knew she was never going to see that bra again. He kissed his way down her breast and captured her nipple in his mouth, abrading it lightly with his teeth. She jolted, and the empty glass slipped from her hand and smashed against the hard tiles of the floor. 

Neyo barely responded to the sound of shattering crystal. Reeda froze, keenly aware that the smallest movement could result in a bloody footful of glass. She stood utterly, helplessly still as he continued to explore her body with his teeth and lips and hands and tongue. He was thorough in his attentions, and something about being entirely at his mercy was wildly arousing. Her head spun as the whiskey began to work its insidious way through her bloodstream.

“I missed this perfume. What is it?” he murmured against the soft skin of her abdomen.

“I don’t wear any,” she said.

He nuzzled against her as though he could transfer her scent to his own skin. Without warning, he scooped her up and carried her out of the room, completely disregarding the risk to himself. But instead of dropping her as soon as they were clear of the broken glass as she expected, he asked, “Bedroom?”

“Left,” she said, and he strode across the flat and kicked open the door, to her intense irritation. “You gonna pay for the broken doorknob?”

He didn’t reply, just tossed her onto the bed and pounced on her as soon as she landed. He slid in between her thighs and gripped her hard as his mouth descended on hers, kissing her as though he were trying to devour her soul. He was still fully clothed, and she scrambled to pull off his shirt. He was completely unhelpful, too engrossed in her taste. She raked her nails across his skin as she yanked his shirt over his head, and he seized her lip in his teeth in revenge.

At last, the barrier of his shirt was gone, and she writhed against him, desperate to feel as much of his warm, smooth skin against her as possible. They clashed together, sinking nails and teeth into each other. At some point, Neyo got his trousers down enough to free his cock, and he shoved into her. His belt chafed harshly on her delicate skin as she wrapped her legs around him, urging him to go deeper, harder, faster. The sounds they made were unholy, primal: growls and grunts and screams of pain and ecstasy as they tore into each other with all the aggression that they had built over the years. 

She pulled his hair; he clawed her back. She slapped his face; he bit her shoulder. She snarled that she loathed him; he interlaced his fingers with hers and whispered how beautiful she was when she came apart beneath him. She thrust him away and kicked him across the bed; he pinned her down and fucked her until she sobbed and begged for more. At some point, she tasted blood, and she didn’t know or care whose it was. And when at last she lost count of how many times he’d brought her to orgasm, he curled his body around hers and traced his thumb softly over her features as she drifted to sleep.

“If I die while I’m inside you, it’s the closest I’ll ever get to heaven,” he whispered.

“Force, you say some kriffed up shit,” she grumbled.

Reeda awakened slowly, aware of something blissfully warm and soothing moving across her skin. She cracked her eyes open. Neyo was lying on top of her, dragging his tongue lazily over her body. He roamed along her curves, and it wasn’t until he paused at her bruised wrist that she realized what he was doing.

“Are you licking my wounds?” she breathed.

He didn’t answer, but his eyes met hers with an intensity that bordered on madness. Gods, everything about this was so fucked up, and she didn’t dare examine too closely why she found it so incredibly arousing. He moved slowly, meticulously, his tongue gliding softly over every centimeter of her body, until she felt like a bomb, ready to detonate at the slightest spark. She came before he ever reached her cunt, and again as he rocked gently inside her, his lips soft against her mouth, silent tears spilling from the corners of her eyes to course down her temples.

After, he guided her into the shower, and when her legs gave out, he held her upright as the hot water washed over them. Once he’d massaged her entire body with his strong, soapy hands, he dried her off and laid her back on the bed while he spread bacta across the damage he’d inflicted. It was disorienting to be cared for so thoroughly by the man who’d spent the better part of four years making her life hell. He didn’t speak, and she didn’t know what to say, so in the end, she simply watched him in silence.

When he finished with the bacta, he retrieved their dinner from the dining room. The food had long since gone cold, but after hours of intense physical activity, they were famished, and they ate it anyway, sharing bites and sipping whiskey straight from the decanter. Neyo sat with his back against the headboard, his long, strong legs bracketing Reeda as she leaned back against his broad chest.

“How did you know porg was my favorite?” she asked.

He shrugged. “They’re tiny, cute, and innocent. I just assumed you would enjoy extinguishing the life from them and consuming their remains.”

She laughed and snuggled closer to him. “Is that why you order your meat rare? Because it’s the next best thing to drinking straight from the source?”

“Finally, someone who understands,” he smirked. “Truthfully, I overheard you tell Admiral Coburn that porg was your favorite during a banquet at the strategy conference at Valor.”

She turned to stare up at him. “Neyo, that was two years ago. That was before we ever…”

“I know,” he said, burying his face in her hair and breathing deeply.

“Stalker,” she murmured.

He dropped his mouth to her neck, and she tilted her head back against his shoulder as his lips glided across her skin. 

“What does it say about you that you like it?” he whispered when he reached her ear.

He pulled her close, positioning himself between her and the bedroom door. From the proprietary way he held her, she knew it was a deliberate choice; any threat that came through that door would have to go through him before it got to her, and she had a feeling that there weren’t many beings in the galaxy that were brave or foolish enough to try.

Reeda jerked awake to a furious pounding at the front door. Neyo was already halfway out of the bedroom, stark naked and armed with a steak knife from their midnight dinner.

“Wait here,” he ordered, his voice hard and flat.

She rolled her eyes as she pulled on a bathrobe and grabbed a blaster from her nightstand. Neyo glared at her when she joined him, but didn’t bother yelling at her.

“Coruscant guard! Open up,” a modulated voice shouted harshly from outside the door.

Neyo glanced questioningly at her, and she shrugged, hiding the blaster behind her robe. He stepped out of view of the door, and she opened it to find none other than Marshal Commander Fox, flanked by two Corrie ARC troopers.

“Commander,” she greeted him, not bothering to conceal the surprise in her voice.

“Good to see you’re in one piece, Admiral,” he said. “Are you all right?”

“I beg your pardon?” she asked, baffled.

“We received multiple calls about a disturbance at your address. Are you alone?”

Reeda felt a hot rush of blood wash over her face and neck. “I fail to see how that is any business of yours, Commander.”

“Sorry, sir, but it’s my duty to—” He stopped abruptly, and his visor shifted to a point behind her. 

“Isn’t this a little below your pay grade, Fox?” Neyo drawled close behind Reeda.

Fox’s visor turned back to Reeda, then to Neyo, and then back to Reeda again. The two ARC troopers appeared to be fascinated by the walls on either side of the front door. 

At last, Fox spoke. “I don’t send shinies to wake up admirals.”

Neyo’s hand slid possessively around the front of Reeda’s abdomen, and he pulled her against his nude body. Something large and solid prodded against her backside. Dank farrik, is he turned on right now? Sick bastard.

“Thank you for your concern,” she told Fox, “but everything is under control.”

“So I see,” Fox replied. “Still, you’ll need to keep the noise level down, or I’ll have no choice but to arrest you for disturbing the peace.”

Neyo reached forward silently and shut the door in Fox’s face, then he spun Reeda around, picked her up over his shoulder, and carried her back to the bedroom. The last thing Fox heard was the unmistakable sound of Neyo’s hand slapping her ass as Reeda shrieked with indignant laughter.

Republic Military HQ buzzed quietly with speculation the next morning when not one, but two of the most senior command staff called in sick for the first time in either of their careers. Rumors swirled: some were convinced a secret bioweapon had been released by Separatist holdouts; others maintained that the stress of dealing with politicians was beginning to take a toll; still others claimed that it was a coverup and that the marshal commander and the admiral had been taken hostage by pirates. It was whispered that Commander Fox had a particularly haunted expression that morning, and two of the Coruscant Guard ARC Troopers had contacted the legal department to update their wills. In the midst of all this, the beleaguered Lissi received a brusque order to inform RTL Matchmaking that the admiral no longer required their services.

Daria drained her third iced caf of the morning as she flicked through her holomessages. Buried amidst the intake forms and meeting invitations was an abrupt-bordering-on-rude note from Marshal Commander Neyo ordering her to close his file.

“Why do you look like the tooka that got the blue milk?” her fellow matchmaker Tarsi Renda asked as she passed Daria in the corridor.

“Oh, no reason,” Daria smiled. “The galaxy is back to normal, that’s all—and my track record is once again perfect.”

---

DJ’s masterlist | Join my tag list here

[mmmichyyy]

weekly tag wednesday 🎀

tagged by @mybrainismelted @energievie @lingy910y @sgtmickeyslaughter @catgrassplantdad !

Name: michelle

Location: rainy gloomy westcoast canada

Age: 31

You have an unexpected extra day off work or school! What are you going to do? sleep in, maybe check out a cute cafe (because all cafes here usually close at 4 on weekdays and way too busy on the weekend)

What is your favorite way to spend a summer day? stay in the shade (because the sun/heat gives me migraines), check out cool shops, get ice cream or bubbletea, watch a movie

What is your favorite way to spend a winter day? stay inside, watch movies/read in bed, drink hot tea

What do you do to unwind at the end of the day? my skincare routine, read fics in bed until i fall asleep

Do you play any sports? nope

Other than fanfic, what is your favorite genre to read? i love asian diaspora lit and personal essays, anything that covers the themes of identity, family, displacement, etc

What is your comfort movie/tv show? i'm always rewatching a sitcom as background noise. i have a looooong list of shows that i consider comfort shows, but my all-time faves are community, bojack horseman, daria, new girl, etc etc. comfort movies hmm probably the ocean's trilogy, national treasure, mission impossible, red white & royal blue lmao i rewatch them a lot (shamelessly going to plug my letterboxd i swear i watch other cooler movies too)

Do you write or draw? write, i can't draw for shit

What other arts or crafts do you do? punch needle, pompoms

Describe your perfect breakfast: an iced matcha latte, a cup of seasonal fruits, bacon, either a glazed fruity/savoury scone or avocado toast or rosemary rocksalt bagel with smoked salmon and dairy-free cream cheese or eggs benedict. realistically for breakfast every day i just eat a banana or buttered toast lol

tagging @stocious @jrooc @gallawitchxx @thisdivorce @gardenerian @heymrspatel @spoonfulstar @sam-loves-seb @blue-disco-lights @whatthebodygraspsnot @callivich @sickness-health-all-that-shit @loftec @darlingian @crestfallercanyon @suzy-queued @creepkinginc @palepinkgoat @burninface @deedala @deathclassic @vintagelacerosette @celestialmickey @doshiart @crossmydna 🌸

[kardia-library-official]

Yes! I'm back! With a Daria/Gaius novelette inspired by something I read on an energy drink can. I think everyone who was questioning their relationship status at the end of Iron or Silver? will be happy with this one. <3

[dariaslookalike]

update on updates

my dad died. i don't really know how to say it any better, but he did. we had a really complicated relationship. i hadn't spoken to him for a few years after the final straw that broke the camels back when i was 13. i had some really strong, horrible feelings towards him for a few years but right now, i was at a place where i didn't hate or despise him. and i guess in the back of my head i always thought we would have time- time for him to realise being an alcoholic was killing him and our relationship, time for him to apologise and try his best to be my Dad instead of just a dad. i thought maybe it would be when i had kids or a husband, and i was older and wiser and i didn't hold onto all my stubborn anger as much as he taught me to. i thought i could swallow all that came with being my father's daughter and eventually see what we could salvage together. but he died, always the one to prove me wrong. so im a bit lost right now, and im in the process of being there for my family and trying to juggle my uni assignments.

all in that to say, the updates i had planned won't be here as soon as i hoped. once we've done the funeral i want to get back into writing- it helps me, but right now my head is all over the place and i won't be able to put forward my best writing as i usually want to. i am not taking a large hiatus (like my gap with my house fic on ao3) but it might be a few weeks. im not sure. i am not abandoning any fics, but i'll be mia for a period.

-daria